by M. D. Cooper
“Hold up there, cowboy,” she warned the exec, lacing her tone with both humor and caution. “You might be signing the paychecks, but you’re not the one with the military training here. I can’t advise letting anyone approach that ring until we’ve fully thought through how we’re going to accomplish this and ensure that we don’t get infected before we can verify for ourselves that Noa has a viable ‘cure’ that isn’t defeated by mutations.”
She saw Terrance frown, but Jason just nodded, whipping his cradle around to the console to begin a rapid manipulation of its holo display.
“Take a look,” her XO said, highlighting the green-line approach vector he’d just mapped out.
“Here’s where Noa’s bunker is located, at the base of the Zao Mountain Range. It’s about eighty klicks east of the elevator, which means it’s under slightly less coverage from the blockade, since they’re concentrating their ships over the dense population areas.” Jason rotated the planetary view, tapping on various locations. “Here at Hokkaido and the Q-camps that are around it, and then at the three coastal cities: New Palos Verdes, Cherny Ostov and Meshuggah.”
Jason spared a quick look over his shoulder, one brow raised. When there were no questions, he returned his gaze to the holo.
“Logan, how would you feel about threading this needle here?” He traced a line between the twelve-thousand-kilometer separation of two of the projected blockade ship paths. “Your biggest risk of detection is your atmospheric entry window. But even then, I’d wager that they’ll be hard-pressed to get solid targeting solutions off the Eidolon’s Elastene surfaces. Barring a lucky shot, you should be able to get her down without any issues.”
Jason’s expression turned wry. “Getting her back up, on the other hand….” His voice trailed off and he ended the sentence with a shrug.
“I know I’m just the financial backer of this trip,” Terrance spoke up, giving Calista a significant look, “but I really think we need to get down there as quickly as possible. Those folks need our help. We can figure out how to get back to the Vale later.”
Calista agreed, but was shocked to hear Logan echo Terrance’s opinion.
“I agree. And I think the odds of finding a way off Galene are high,” the profiler said. “I just completed a review of a list of refugees Bette sent along with that last transmission. We have the equivalent of several companies of military personnel down there, plus a few active combat units that were smuggled to the surface by one of Galene’s AI Marines.”
He gestured to the main holo and brought up an image of a woman in full battle-rattle.
“Sakai’s daughter leads one of Galene’s Marine Special Operations groups and is actively holding back the ring’s escalation of troops to keep the planet ‘contained’. I’m sure Sakai will be grateful enough for our assistance that we should be able to enlist their help to get back to the ship.”
Calista hardly heard the last of Logan’s statement. She was too busy staring in surprise at Terrance’s reaction to the sight of the woman on the screen.
* * * * *
Terrance’s gaze was riveted to the image of the woman Logan had on display.
The phage had not exempted her from its grasp; from the looks of it, her armor’s base layer had been compromised and had begun to ‘self-repair’ itself into her own skin’s epidermis. The nano had apparently rejected her hair follicles as foreign material and had grown itself partially across her scalp. Tendrils of nanofilament laced her left cheekbone, cutting through her eyelid and across her forehead. Where the base layer had taken combat damage, repairs had begun—but again, the nano appeared to be melding the suit to her skin rather than seeking to seal itself over it.
Still, her dark eyes burned with fierce determination as she calmly returned fire under the onslaught of GSC forces attempting a purge of one of the more hard-hit Q-camps.
Something in his chest burned.
He felt a questing probe, and then a murmur of agreement from the AI—both of which he ignored as he tore his gaze from the holo, seeking Logan’s frame.
“Who do we take with us? You, me, Kodi, and…?” His voice lifted at the end in question as he looked from Logan to Jason.
“Me.”
Marta’s voice, as always, came from beside the doors that led to the corridor. The doctor had the uncanny ability to arrive on the bridge without notice.
“From the data dump they sent, their surgeon general is sorely understaffed down there, and they could use as many capable hands as they can get.”
Terrance heard Calista begin to protest, but the doctor overrode the captain.
“Shannon and Jonesy feel that the colloidene rectification plan that Noa sent us is a solid one, so all we need to do is manufacture a supply of our own before we arrive. That way, we can feed the immediate area with a constant stream of them.” She shrugged as she strode forward, thumbs hooked inside the front pockets of her medical coat, and nodded at the holo. “If the phage does end up compromising any of our nano, it won’t have a chance to take hold.”
She grimaced, shaking her head in thought as she paused to consider her own words. “They could really use double or triple the medical staff they have down there. In fact, if we can successfully inoculate ourselves against the phage, I’d like to bring a small team of surgeons with me, volunteers from within our passenger ranks, if they’ll come.”
Terrance found himself holding his breath as he glanced over at Calista to see what she thought of the plan.
He didn’t have long to wait; after a brief hesitation, she nodded decisively. That was all he needed.
He rounded on the room, his next words acting like the gunshot at a starting line.
“Very well, people. Let’s make it so.”
AMBUSH
STELLAR DATE: 09.11.3246 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Federated States of Tau Ceti picket line
REGION: approaching Galene nearspace, Tau Ceti system
Jason sat in the pilot’s cradle of one of the two Icarus-class shuttles, Tobias ensconced within the ship’s core housing, the holo before him displaying the icons of the various ships comprising the FSTC picket. The Sable Wind’s IFF tagged each one red, while the Icarus fighter containing Calista and Logan was tagged green.
Calista’s Mirage hung off his left wing-tip, both ships tucked in close to the Avon Vale. They were closer than Shannon would prefer, given her caustic comments over the combat net about the Icarus birds scorching the larger ship’s Elastene-clad surface.
The three ships were exchanging encrypted communications via directed laser tightbeams, so narrow that one of the FSTC ships would have to physically cross its path to know that it was there. Given the vast distances between objects, even this close in, the likelihood of that happening were nil—at least, if those operating said tightbeams were halfway competent.
In the case of team Phantom Blade, competency was a given.
Jason executed the final hard deceleration burn that would bring him to a comparable velocity relative to the picket, and then vectored away from the shadow of the Avon Vale, and toward the nearest FSTC ship—a Nereids-class corvette, his cockpit holo informed him—while Calista headed for one of their destroyers.
He’d planned his trajectory carefully to mask his use of the ship’s thrusters as much as possible, and began a gentle loop, curving under the corvette’s bow. His path wou
ld intersect the other ship’s main sensor array, and he held his breath as the Icarus-class shuttle sliced silently through the black, the corvette not twitching a whisker at his advance.
After completing his loop, he curved upward until he was well above the plane of the picket, and shot a brief tightbeam burst back toward the Avon Vale to indicate he’d completed his run.
An answering burst acknowledged his transmission, and he waited patiently as his display updated Calista’s projected path. The fighter had opted for a pass that was much more close-in, and the successful completion of her run would be the last bit of intel they would need to solidify their approach plans for Ring Galene.
Another few minutes passed, and the Sable Wind was hit by a comm tightbeam off his starboard wing, passing the message that the Mirage, too, had made the run without detection. Both ships turned back to rendezvous with the Avon Vale and prepare for their real mission.
* * * * *
Back on the bridge, Jason sought to remain calm as he spoke once more with acting president Henrick. Light-lag from the ring was now just an annoyance, but it was made more so by how irritating the woman was. He took a deep breath and reached for a patience he’d never been very good at, as the woman once more attempted to keep them from intervening.
After their first exchange with acting president Henrick, it had become clear that the woman was unable to divest herself of her now-ingrained distrust of and aversion toward AIs. Her irascible behavior was making Jason heartily regret volunteering to run the ring op.
Jason snorted mentally at that.
His attention returned to the slightly guttural tones of the woman on the holo, settling one hand on Tobi’s head when he heard the big cat begin to emit a low growl.
“While we appreciate your concern, we would prefer the matter of Enfield’s stasis technology to be considered separately, as purely a business transaction.” The woman waved her hand dismissively, but she couldn’t quite hide the anger that telegraphed itself in the tension of her eyes or the taut manner in which she held herself.
Jason stifled a sigh of exasperation as the woman continued.
“Your offer to serve as an impartial intermediary for matters between Ring Galene and those quarantined on the planet is commendable, but we cannot expect someone who has just recently arrived to appreciate the various layers and nuances involved in this complex situation.”
“I’m afraid we are going to have to insist,” Jason replied in a tone that brooked no further discussion on the matter—or he hoped that was the case.
His words were rewarded with a flash of surprise coupled with annoyance after the few seconds of light-lag had passed his response to her.
“We have some of Enfield’s most-skilled technicians aboard the Avon Vale, and are prepared to demonstrate the validity of our claims.” He toggled a sim of the Sable Wind that he’d created, one that illustrated their proposal.
“We can dock wherever you would like, and I will personally submit to any of your scans. I’m an unaugmented human, with no mods other than the Link and a standard, carbon nanotube-reinforced skeleton—something I understand is typical for your pilots, as well.”
The sim showed the Icarus-class shuttle docking, and miniaturized icons representing cryo-pods being loaded aboard.
“We can take on half a dozen of the infected in cryo units, and then we’ll undock. We’ll match orbit, establishing a station-keeping attitude with the dock while our team of engineers administers the colloidene rectification application. You’ll be able to monitor via a live broadcast stream. We’ll share our scan data with you as we receive it.” Jason’s tone turned firm, unyielding. “But know this: the only way you’re getting your hands on a single one of our stasis pods is by accepting our offer to prove—or disprove—the effectiveness of the phage cure they’ve developed down on Galene.”
Henrick’s mouth firmed, and for a moment Jason thought she might protest, but she gave a curt nod and cut the connection.
For a moment, he continued to stare thoughtfully at the holo, now displaying nearspace around Avon Vale.
“Interesting,” he murmured, and looked up with a distracted expression when Terrance nudged him.
“Care to share?” the exec asked, a brow raised.
Jason reached toward the holo and zoomed in, highlighting the insignia on the sleeve of one of the soldiers standing in the background, behind Henrick.
“Take a look,” he said. “That’s not the insignia of the Galene Space Command we saw in the Tau Ceti infodump the FSTC sent us.”
“No,” Terrance mused. “You’re right; it’s not.”
Jason cocked his head toward Logan. “What do you think?”
The profiler stood perfectly still, staring at the image floating on the holo. After a moment, the display split as the AI brought up two more images on either side of it. One was the GSC insignia; the other was the seal of the Department of Planetary Security.
In the side-by-side comparison, they could clearly see the arm band the soldier sported was an amalgam of the two.
“Goon squad?” Jason guessed, “or secret police?”
“It would fit with what we’ve found,” Shannon’s voice was laced with acrimony.
“Agreed,” Logan said, just as his brother chimed in. “This acting president Henrick strikes me as a big believer in the old adage of never letting a good crisis go to waste.”
Jason sent Landon a sharp look. “You think she’s seized power permanently, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
Landon nodded. “I’m not the profiler in the family, but yes, it stinks of that—to me, at least.”
“She might not be very eager for our cure to the phage, then, if she’s using it as an excuse to stay in power,” Terrance said thoughtfully, hand again scraping across the stubble along his jaw.
“Best we proceed with caution, then,” Jason said, and Terrance made a sound of agreement.
Several hours later, Jason was once more strapped into the pilot’s cradle.
She had decided to move from the Vale and embed with him in the shuttle—to ‘make sure he didn’t screw anything up’, she’d said. She was handling nav, while Jonesy sat on comm and Jason ran the pilot’s boards. Behind their shuttle, lined up to drop as soon as Sable Wind had cleared the ship, were the Eidolon and the Mirage.
Tobias was embedded with Calista in the fighter, while Logan was with Kodi and Terrance, embedded in the second Icarus shuttle. Marta had joined them on Eidolon, along with a few of her best ESF medics.
Landon had remained behind and was now in command of the Avon Vale. He would function as overwatch and coordinate the timing of the operations, as well.
Calista flashed her running lights at Jason as the bay’s ES field snapped into place and the bay doors began to slide open. He felt a slight bump as th
e auto-tow latched onto the docking rings that protruded from the belly of the shuttle, and Sable Wind began to creep forward on the bay’s departure rails. The auto-tow gave one last push, and the shuttle dropped clear of the bay.
Jason engaged thrusters and vectored away from Avon Vale while monitoring the Sable Wind’s rear optics, watching as first the Mirage, and then the Eidolon dumped into the black. He caught the flash of light as the ES field was cut and Avon Vale’s bay doors began to close.
He heard the smirk in Terrance’s voice as the exec drawled in a sardonic tone,
Forty-five minutes later, he was shaking his head in disgust as Ring Galene’s STC Approach control cleared him for his final approach, and he came close enough to see an actual human, dressed in an ancient-looking pressure suit, waving him in.
He shook his head in astonishment as the figure waved two glowing sticks at him, beckoning him forward, and then did a little butt wiggle and raised his left knee to indicate Jason should slew the aft end of the Sable Wind to port a few degrees. He snorted into the comm at that.