by Alex Deva
"Why did you lie?" asked Mark.
"To protect you."
"We nearly died, you alien turd!" yelled Aram, again.
"No Aram, the ADM's right," said Mark, calmly. "And Doina, you probably knew it all along."
"What?!" The Dacian was beginning to heat up.
"If we'd started shooting American vessels, we would've then had to keep going until every last one of them was dead, because they would not have given up."
"So? Do I have to remind you that they were all trying to kill us?"
"So, we would've killed hundreds of people who wouldn't really have stood a chance, and made a very powerful enemy, the United States of America with Bloody Space Ships. And whatever allies they have."
That kept Aram quiet.
"You would have made an enemy of the whole Earth," said the ADM. "The show of force would have been far too impressive, for the others to risk dealing with you."
They had nothing to say to that.
"Forgive me," said Doina to both of them. "I didn't know we had a gun, honest. But I knew Doi-the-ship could have killed all those soldiers, and I didn't want to let that happen."
"No kid should ever have to make that call," agreed Aram, sombrely.
"That's right," said Mark. "But I'm not a kid. ADM, we need to know about this weapon. How does it work?"
"Directional calibrated resonating gravity field oscillations," came the straight answer.
Mark exhaled audibly, Doina just shrugged.
"If it's even true," said Aram, morosely. "Anyway, who cares how it works? It blows great things to fine dust, and that's good enough for me."
"Does it need to recharge? Does it need ammo? What's its rate of fire? How do we aim it? Hell, how many do we actually have? Can we have portable ones?" asked Mark.
Hearing the last question, Aram perked up a little and shot him an approving glance.
"Aram is right," said the ADM. "Let the ship take care of the weapon. It will be available when you want it available, for as long as you do."
"Assuming you agree with the way we want to use it."
"Yes." Another straight answer.
"I see."
"Portable weaponry is also possible."
"No," said Doina, suddenly, shaking her head. "Please. No guns here on the ship."
Mark and Aram looked at each other, and decided not to press the point.
"That brings us to the last point on the agenda," said the Brit, opening his left palm and peering into it. "ADM, have you ever heard about Greenwich?"
XXXIV.
Mark had learned the ten digits by heart. He was familiar with geographical coordinates; map reading, next to cleaning one's teeth and weapon, had always been one of the most basic skills drilled into soldiers. (Although, to be fair, he'd already known about maps and hygiene when he'd joined the Royal Green Jackets.)
The coordinates were obviously important, so he'd had them committed to memory, first chance he had. However, since the blue ink was still visible on his skin, he checked them again.
Initially, he thought he'd just ask Doina for a projection of the Earth, figure out where the Equator and Greenwich were, and plot the position himself. But then it dawned on him that maybe teaching the starship about the human system of coordinates might come in handy at some point, so he invested fifteen minutes in explaining the Great Circles, degrees of arcs, subdivisions, cardinal points and hemispheres.
Doina and Aram listened to his explanations with interest.
"Never really thought numbers could be that useful," said the Dacian. "Especially after the Romans came and fucked them up."
"Did the Dacians have their own number system before the Romans, then?" asked Mark with some interest.
Aram eyed him sarcastically and answered:
"No, we just walked about telling each other damn, I sure wish those Romans would conquer us already and teach us how to count."
Doina laughed.
"Never really thought about that," said Mark. "I guess you're right, though."
"Yeah, there was life before the Romans," said the blond man wryly.
Mark changed the subject.
"Doi, can the ship get us above these coordinates?"
"Yes, Mark," she answered without hesitation.
"That's good. Could we approach on a spiral trajectory? Always moving along with the Earth as it rotates, so from their perspective it looks as if we're coming straight down?"
She took a few seconds to make sure she understood his meaning.
"Yes, I can do that. But why?"
"If I understood lieutenant Lawry right, that's going to be Chinese territory. Or Eurasian, assuming China is still in Asia, which I'm really hoping. In any case, it makes sense that political boundaries extend vertically upwards, like airspace used to in my day, so by approaching vertically with respect to China, we should be staying out of enemy territory."
"I understand. That's good thinking."
"So, no problems then?"
"Well, there's one or two," said the girl.
He gave her his full attention.
"Go on."
"One, speed. If we don't go in fast enough, we may fly a little close to the Moon, depending on what time we choose to arrive and where the Moon will be in her own movement."
He looked at her with genuine admiration.
"You're thinking like an astrophysicist, Doi. That's very well spotted, and I hadn't thought of that. Suggestions?"
"Well, I can fly by really quickly, but there's a limit in the distance I need to brake." More and more, she was referring to the starship in the first person.
"So, to them, we'd effectively be coming out of nowhere, because I know Doi can brake pretty amazingly fast."
"Yeah, I guess. And I can accelerate very quickly too, but we don't want to fiddle with the passage of time."
"That's true. Can I leave it to you to find a compromise?"
She probed her English lexicon for the meaning of the word "compromise", then acknowledged, smugly. Mark was educating himself to treat her according to her proper place in their midst, but her level of scientific understanding felt to him nothing short of staggering.
"Anyway," she continued, "we could also simply time ourselves to arrive when the Moon's on the other side of Earth."
"Can you calculate that?"
"I don't need to. I can simply look."
"Let's do a combination," he said. "Definitely let's try to stay as far as we can from the Moon, for the time being, but I like the surprise element too."
"OK. No problem."
"Thank you," he said. "And what's the second question?"
"Oh, yes. What's China?"
* * *
"I could come separately, with Effo," suggested Aram a little later.
"I've thought about that. To provide cover fire?"
"Yeah, just in case these Eurasians turn out even worse than the Americans and we need to start offending, you know?"
"I do know. But I really want us to be in full complement when we meet these people. We're not just falling into their soup this time, we're going to be expected; and if there's drama, you can deploy with Effo in under a minute, I guess."
"Right. Got it."
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"I'm really glad this ship picked you. And I'm sorry I kept the truth about my past from you."
Aram looked at Mark's bruised face and spoke, softly:
"I didn't understand half of it anyway. Some day you'll have to explain to me what a Muslim is, and what you've done to them so bad that they wanted to fuck you up like that. I mean, I have my own suspicions already, but..."
That ruined Mark's sobriety. He tried to stay serious, but a smile cracked his face. Exactly as the Dacian intended.
"Muslims are OK, it's just some fuckheads that ruin things for everybody, like those tribes you had that nobody liked."
"Well, those tribes are long gone, so I wonder what became of your fuckheads."
/> "I'll make a point to ask," said the Brit, and smiled again.
* * *
"They're called 'actions-if'," said Mark.
"Actions if what?"
"Actions if... Actually, they're just reactions. But us Army monkeys are a little daft, and 'reaction' has too many letters."
Doina laughed.
"First scenario. What if it's a trap?"
"How could they entrap us?" asked Aram.
"I can't begin to imagine, which is the whole point."
"I don't know. Start shooting?"
"First, we try to find weak points in whatever's trapping us. Then, we try to concentrate on one spot; if it doesn't work, we launch you with Effo and we coordinate trying to escape in two places at once."
"OK. What if they try to board us?"
"I think we shouldn't allow anybody armed to come on board."
"That's an excellent idea," nodded Doina vigorously.
"Fair enough," said Aram. "What if they want us to fly over for talks?"
"No," said Doina.
"No," said Mark, too.
"Agreed," said Aram. "OK, here's one. What if nothing and nobody is there?"
"Then we either have the wrong coordinates, or I didn't teach them properly to the ADM, or we're too late, or we're far too late."
"What do you mean, far too late?"
"Relativistic effects. As in, four hundred years have passed since we met the Kennedy."
"No," said Doina, again. "We didn't do anything nearly fast enough."
Mark and Aram looked at each other.
"We believe you, Doi, of course. That goes without saying. But it's still possible."
"The ship wouldn't lie to me," she said with conviction.
"OK. Well, that's why we're doing this, to try to cover any possible scenario," said Aram.
"If there's nobody there, I think the safest thing is to get out as quickly as possible and reassess the situation," spoke Mark.
"Agreed. What else? What if we arrive in the middle of some natural catastrophe? Or another space battle?"
And so they took their time, trying to think about every single possibility, planning ahead and discussing their options, so that whatever might wait for them, they would never again be unprepared.
XXXV.
"Any trace of the Americans?"
"There are ships around the Earth, around the Moon and inbetween, but I can't tell who owns them."
"Anyone close to us?"
"No, we're way out of the Earth-Moon plane."
"And still approaching..."
"...vertically as seen from those coordinates. Yes."
"Sorry, Doi. I just don't want to risk anything again."
"I know. I'll let you know the moment any of those ships seems to be changing course towards us."
The girl floated gently back to the floor, where Mark was peering intently into a projection that displayed their current trajectory relative to the Earth and the Moon. She used hand motions to zoom into the Earth, and a blue dot appeared over its surface as she rotated the planet.
"That's the place."
"Hm. It's not above China," said Mark.
"No? Is that bad?"
"Not necessarily, at least not in my day. It's above Northern Europe. If I'm not wrong, it's above Russia."
"American allies?" Aram wanted to know.
"Not unless the world turned completely upside down, my friend."
"Well. That's good, then."
"Hm." Mark was anything but thrilled. "Maybe."
He bit his lower lip and tried to think. Russia, part of a Eurasian alliance? About as hard to believe as it being an American ally.
"Doi, can you please zoom out and vertical? Let's get a closer look at that place."
"I don't need to. I can show you right now."
She zoomed out just the right amount, and a great space construction filled the projection.
"Whoa," said the Dacian. "Look at that. I guess there's something there, after all."
"Sorry," she said. "We were too far to see it before, and on the wrong side, too. I had to catch up with it first, before we started closing distance."
"I still don't know how we can see it in such detail from this far," he said. "How long till we make it there?"
"How long do you want it to take?," she asked.
He smiled.
“Let's see what we can see, first."
The station was huge. It seemed to Mark a lot larger than his contemporary International Space Station, and for a brief moment, he wondered what had become of that. Long, slightly curved golden panels glistened in the sun, and he needed a few good seconds before he was able to tell things apart.
The station proper, huge as it was, was only part of the structure. Two long, cylindrical ships were docked into it, at angles with each other. Complicated structures, in apparent disarray, connected to each other, and moving compartments, some of which looked like the already familiar American crates, were slowly rotating as Doi tracked them about the Earth. It all made for an amazing testament of the progress that humankind had made in the past three centuries.
One of the two long ships looked like a smaller version of the Kennedy, and when it rotated towards Doi, they could see that it was badly damaged. Many of its compartments had huge, gaping holes in them, and most of its antennae were destroyed. At the back, chipped, blackened cones stood over what must have been the ship's rear engines.
Then, the Sun shone on its long surface and Mark could read, in blue lettering: "EASS M NNET".
"Eurasian Space Ship Monnet," he whispered.
"What's the other one called?" asked Aram. He moved around the projection and leaned to one side, trying to read upside down. He squinted, spelled and then read aloud: "EASS CAMERON".
"What?!" Mark thought he was being made fun of. "Are you serious?"
Aram looked up at him.
"What? Why?"
"The Cameron? Really?" asked the Brit with incredulity.
They both looked at him.
"Do you know that ship, Mark?" asked Doina.
"No... but I really hope it's been named after another Cameron," he mumbled.
Doina and Aram shared a blank look.
"Wow, look at all those smaller ships," Mark changed the subject.
About a dozen ships that looked much like the American Wings were flying, some towards the surface, some manoeuvring around the space station, while some were docked at the two cruisers. They watched the scene in silence for a few seconds.
"Looks like they're working to fix that big broken ship," said Aram.
"Amazing," said Mark.
"None of this in your day?"
"Mostly, no. I mean, we had a space station, but nothing of this magnitude, no."
Again, they watched in silence, then Aram said, again:
"I wonder what the Americans have."
"My guess is, the same thing, only bigger and more of it."
Aram laughed. "I'm still amazed just looking at the Earth underneath. I can't believe we lived on such a tiny patch of it. We had no idea there was so much room."
Mark said nothing. They'd looked at models of Earth that Doi-the-ship had taken during her previous fly-bys, and he had taken his time explaining continents and geopolitics as best he could, but Aram and Doina were still amazed by the vastness of their planet.
He looked at the space station and inhaled deeply.
"Well," he said, "I guess that's where we're going."
The starship stopped nearly instantly.
They were about thirty kilometres in front of the Chinese space station, assuming it really was Chinese -- and if the part they decided it looked like its front really was its front. The starship hung motionless in space, relative to the station, moving together with it at precisely the same angular speed.
They were all in One. Aram had opened all the doors between himself and the airlock, and even opened Effo's top cover, so he could jump in it in only a few seconds, if thi
ngs turned pear-shaped. He was a little edgy, pacing around the room, munching on a red meal bar.
"Wow, look at that," said Mark.
Even without the starship's unbelievable magnification, the space construction looked incredible. There was logic in its apparent disarray, and altogether it occupied a vast volume of space.
"You were right," said the girl.
"About what?"
"The Americans have at least three, and they're all larger than this one."
Mark gave her his attention.
"When did you see that?"
"Well, there are more things like this around the Earth. I've counted four on the way here, and I didn't look on the other side yet."
"What makes you think the others are American?"
"Because they're much larger than this one."
Even Aram smiled at that logic.
The station was not still. Tiny white flashes were visible where thrusters fired, moving transport ships and the larger, Wing-like vessels around. The busted cruiser, the Monnet, looked even worse from up close. They could easily zoom in to see individual people floating around it, in space suits that were black, dark red, light blue or even the white that Mark had somehow assumed was normal.
And then, again -- they got noticed.
Two of the Wing-like ships started to turn, their gun turrets pointing straight at them before their noses followed.
"Egg's up," said Doina, automatically.
"ADM," called Mark.
"Cannon is ready, Mark," said the voice from the walls instantly.
"Mark, please."
"Don't worry, Doi. We won't use it unless we definitely have to protect ourselves."
"I really don't want to kill anybody."
"I know. We talked about this."
She sighed.
"Yeah. I'm aiming for their wingtips."
"I can take them out before they know what hit them," said Aram, half to himself.
"Aram!"
"I know you can. And that's exactly why you won't," said Mark, quietly.
I know, thought the Dacian.
"So, what do we do, then?" he asked, stepping towards the room's centre, ready to jump, just in case.
"We wait. We've responded to their invitation; it's their move now."