by Jim C. Hines
“She’s practically a prisoner now,” muttered Mops. Sage had taken command of the station and stripped Pachelbel of most of her duties and authority. Mops didn’t know how much of that came from Sage’s suspicions about Pachelbel, and how much was typical Krakau political squabbling. “Pachelbel doesn’t know who to trust, so we’re the lucky ones getting sent to Earth.”
“Pachelbel said you might be reluctant to return to your world. Your cowardice is understandable. Earth is a wild and terrifying place.”
Cate was right. Mops was afraid. But not for the reasons he probably imagined. Sure, half a billion feral humans roaming about was enough to fuel anyone’s nightmares. Far worse were the reminders of what the planet had once been.
Mops’ personal library included countless history files—texts and images and videos retrieved from Earth. Knowing many of those records had been filtered or doctored by the Krakau did little to ease the horrific contrast they painted between past and present. The idea of setting foot on Earth again and walking through the graveyard of human civilization made her ill.
Like all cured humans, Mops had been born on Earth, but she had no memories of her life before the Krakau found her. She couldn’t have said which of Earth’s six inhabited continents she originally came from. Only the occasional nightmare provided glimpses of that other life, of endless, gnawing hunger . . .
She’d been reborn in a secure medical facility. Her initial education took place while she was semiconscious in a medical tank, her brain and body being recoded by Krakau medicine. Once the cure had progressed enough for her to be safely awakened, she’d joined the rest of her crèche to study in the underground complex. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d walked on the surface and seen Earth’s blue sky after her rebirth.
Almost all reborn humans ended up in the Earth Mercenary Corps. Mops had always considered her service a drop in the ocean toward the debt she and humanity owed the Krakau. At the graduation ceremony, where newly-reborn humans chose their names from Earth’s historical figures, she’d taken the name of the human doctor who allegedly helped spread the plague across the planet. Mops had meant it as a reminder of what her species had done to itself, and what would have happened if not for the Krakau.
How much of that history was distortions and lies? Who knew if Doctor Marion Adamopoulos had even existed?
“Captain?” The escape pod’s comm buzzed with static, making her jump. The voice repeated more clearly a moment later. “Captain, is that you?”
Mops pulled herself to the controls, skimmed the labels, and flipped a large toggle. “Good to hear your voice, Grom. We’re here, and we’ve got a guest. Do you have the shuttle?”
“Yes, sir. We hardly banged it up at all when we hauled it in.”
“What about Wolf?”
“Didn’t bang her up much either. Kumar’s bringing us into a parallel course so we can catch your pod without splattering you all against the wall. Wolf should have a grav lock in about three minutes.”
“Any word from the Jellyfish?”
“Nothing yet,” said Grom. “Azure’s on tactical, watching for missile fire.”
“Did she and Kumar finish mixing up that surprise I requested?”
Kumar cut in. “Four barrels, sir. I followed the recipe from the Zenkozan veterinary database and modified it per your instructions, but—”
“I supervised Kumar’s work,” interrupted Azure. “In my professional opinion, the mixture is not medically viable.”
“Understood.” Mops had given Kumar this assignment because he knew five times as much about medical as anyone else in her severely undersized crew. Since the rest of the crew knew approximately nothing on the subject, that wasn’t as reassuring as it might have been.
Azure, on the other tentacle, had been trained in biochemistry during her time on a Rokkau family ship, hiding from the rest of the galaxy. She had also, shortly before joining the crew, used that training to create a biological weapon with the potential to kill every Krakau on Dobranok, which made Mops reluctant to give her unsupervised access to their medical center.
“It’s impressive that a hygiene and maintenance team can successfully run a cruiser-class vessel on their own,” said Cate. “Particularly a mostly-human team.”
Mops let that pass.
The pod lurched hard as the Pufferfish’s grav beams took hold. Mops and the others were pulled none-too-gently against the ceiling. Her mind reoriented, with the ceiling becoming the floor and vice versa, as gravity increased.
She checked the display again, trying to estimate speeds and distances. “You’ll want to try to relax,” she warned Cate. “It helps with the impact.”
“A Prodryan warrior is never relaxed.”
“Suit yourself.”
Cate paused. “In what should I dress? You haven’t returned my armor, and your uniforms aren’t designed for Prodryans.”
“I meant—never mind.” The pod’s lights flashed blue, and a loud clacking assaulted Mops’ ears. She assumed it was a proximity alert. Gravity died a moment later as the Pufferfish shut down the primary grav beam, letting the pod coast the final meters into the bay. Mops grasped the closest bar and checked her monocle for the relative orientation of the ship and pod. “Looks like portside is gonna be down.”
She raised her legs toward the left wall.
The pod fell sideways the moment it entered the Pufferfish’s internal gravity field. Sideways became down. Mops and her team dropped to the wall—floor—and grabbed whatever they could. Cate squawked and spread his wings. His desperate flapping didn’t save him from tumbling onto his back.
The pod spun hard before sliding to a halt.
Cate pushed himself upright and shivered, filling the air with yellow-and-blue wing dust. “Are we safe?”
The all-clear flashed on Mops’ monocle. “Safe is relative, but the docking bay is sealed and pressurizing. We should be good to leave in less than a minute.”
“Excellent.” Cate turned away, coughed three times, and hocked up a series of oily-looking pellets.
Mops tugged a cleaning rag from her harness and handed it to him.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“I’ll have Kumar instruct you on basic cleaning and sanitation procedures.” Mops checked the external pressure and opened the hatch. Wolf’s shuttle was locked down on the far side of the bay. Scrapes along the shuttle’s hull suggested her landing had been as bumpy as their own.
“I’m a lawyer and spy,” Cate protested. “Not a janitor.”
“Rule one: everyone cleans their own puke.” Mops jumped down and stretched her shoulders. “Welcome to the Pufferfish.”
* * *
By the time Mops reached the bridge, she was swearing. The glittering copper specks spilled across the floor near the navigation console didn’t help her mood. She’d told Grom not to bring their homemade mineral salsa onto the bridge.
She pushed her irritation aside, focusing on the data Doc was feeding to her monocle. Data on the Box Jellyfish’s course and speed, complete with a countdown showing when they would overtake the Pufferfish.
“Give me some good news, people.” She strode to the captain’s station at the center of the bridge, stepping over the low metal guardrails. The rails were designed for Krakau use, putting them at precisely the right height to bruise the hell out of human shins. Mops kept meaning to have Grom remove them.
“They’re holding fire for now.” Sanjeev Kumar looked more like a soldier than an ex-janitor, but his broad, muscular build came mostly from his obsessive cleaning habits. Habits that never seemed to carry over to taming his short, tangled brown hair. He was excessively detail oriented, which was one of the reasons Mops had assigned him to Navigation. “I’m working on an evasive course through the herd, but I don’t think we can dodge them long enough to get clear an
d make a safe A-ring jump.”
Cate chittered for attention. “Using the Comaceans as cover knowingly places them in harm’s way, violating APSA 93.42.6 through 9. Should the EMCS Box Jellyfish open fire, you would be held partially responsible for any damages.”
“We’d probably be dead, too,” said Monroe as he slid into his seat at Tactical. The eight bridge stations were spread around the outer part of the bridge, each one a shallow circular pit.
“I agree with Cate,” said Rubin. “We can’t endanger these animals.”
Grom drew themself up taller, coiling the rear third of their segmented body for balance, which brought them to almost a meter in height. They jabbed a clawed limb toward Cate. “Is anyone going to explain why we brought a Prodryan on board?”
Gromgimsidalgak had been one of the Pufferfish’s computer hardware technicians, and now fancied themselves the ship’s programmer and engineer. They’d modified many of the bridge controls, replacing sophisticated command consoles with preprogrammed macros and video game controllers. They’d also removed the metal nest used by Mops’ Krakau predecessor, replacing it with an upholstered armchair from the mess hall.
Grom was on the small side for a Glacidae. Two rows of stubby, featherlike legs ran the length of their body. The yellow spines along their back were fully raised, making them resemble a cross between a pincushion and a giant Merraban sausage.
One large brown eye watched Cate while the other narrowed at Mops. The thick digging limbs ringing Grom’s head twitched and fidgeted nervously.
“This is Advocate of Violence,” said Mops. “Cate for short. He has intelligence Admiral Pachelbel wanted us to see, assuming we don’t end up dead or imprisoned in the next few minutes. Kumar, take us closer to the nearest Comacean. Wolf, help Cate broadcast a warning message to the Box Jellyfish, reminding them of the consequences of violating the Alliance Protected Species Act. Maybe it will make them hesitate before blowing us up.”
Cate started toward the communications station, then paused to stare at Azure. “Nobody told me you had a deformed Krakau on board.”
Mops froze with her hand on the back of her seat. Like the Krakau, Azure had a roughly cylindrical body with limbs loosely resembling those of an Earth squid or octopus. But the Rokkau had had four primary tentacles instead of three. One of those tentacles was significantly underdeveloped. Her lower limbs were shorter and thicker than those of the Krakau, and her beak was flatter against her face.
Azure’s limbs stilled. One of her eyes fixed on Cate. She could have been a statue carved from blue-speckled obsidian.
She might not be Krakau, but Rokkau body language was close enough for Mops to recognize the threat. “Both eyes on your console,” she snapped at Azure, loud enough to capture everyone’s attention. To Cate, she said, “Get that message out to the Jellyfish, then shut up.”
Azure’s beak clicked shut. After a moment, she bobbed the upper part of her body and turned away. She’d picked up nodding and several other human mannerisms during her time with the crew. Cate continued to stare after the Rokkau, even as he made his way toward Communications.
Monroe had switched the main viewscreen to tactical, with the Pufferfish at the center. Mops studied the Comacean herd and tagged four undersized individuals. “Make sure we steer clear of those youngsters.”
“Why is it acceptable to endanger the adult Comaceans, but not the children?” asked Rubin.
“Message sent,” announced Wolf, saving Mops from an answer.
Mops double-checked her console, confirming and approving Kumar’s course. Less than a minute later, Wolf turned her head and said, “The Box Jellyfish is hailing us.”
“Put them through to me.” A new window opened on Mops’ screen, showing a middle-aged human woman with short black hair and a circular scar on the left side of her throat. It wasn’t who Mops had expected. “Battle Captain Irwin? Don’t tell me your Krakau command crew are still recovering from your A-ring jump.”
“Captain Smuglyanka felt you might be more responsive to a fellow human.” Irwin rolled her eyes, making it clear what she thought of that theory.
“Nice to see you again,” said Mops. “Did your husband ever get the bugs worked out of that prosthetic leg? I spoke with Monroe, who says it might be a software problem. He suggests wiping and reinstalling the AI’s spatial awareness software.”
“This isn’t a social call, dammit.” Irwin’s gaze slipped. “But I’ll pass that along.”
“I saw Eva on the Comacean. How’s she working out?”
“Fine,” said Irwin. “Command is keeping her under long-term medical observation, but we’ve seen no long-term effects from the bioweapon attack. She says she’s looking forward to serving on the Pufferfish again, once we take it back from you.”
“I’ll have Wolf clean her room, just in case.” Mops chuckled. “What’s it been, five weeks since we talked?”
“Five weeks and three days since you slipped away from us at the Avangart shipyards.” Irwin leaned closer. “You and I both know how this plays out. Power down before anyone else gets hurt.”
Not for the first time, Mops considered simply broadcasting everything to Irwin and the crew of the Box Jellyfish: the truth about the Krakau’s first disastrous mission to Earth, about the Rokkau who had accidentally poisoned a human leader, and how that poison had turned humanity into monsters. Their near-genocidal war against the Rokkau. The hundred and fifty years of lies and cover-ups that followed.
But she also knew the lengths the Krakau had gone to in order to bury that history in the sand. Every Alliance computer system had buried safeguards helping to protect those secrets. Mops had seen an AI take complete control of the Pufferfish at the mere sight of a Rokkau. She’d eventually gotten those subroutines removed from the Pufferfish, but the Box Jellyfish would have the same programming. Telling Irwin now, without irrevocable proof, would only endanger her and her crew.
“Rotting dicks, Adamopoulos. My team said you were working with Prodryans, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
Cate had stepped into view, probably while trying to get a better look at the screen. Mops swallowed a sigh. “When did you start picking up Nusuran slang?”
Irwin simply stared. The sight of a Prodryan on the bridge of an EMC ship had clearly burned away any remaining hesitation about Mops’ guilt.
“Technically, it’s just the one Prodryan,” said Mops.
A vein in Irwin’s temple began to throb.
“You’re a good officer, Irwin. And I’m sorry about this.” Mops signaled Wolf to cut the connection. “Kumar, keep a light touch on the engines. Get us as close as you can, but do not disrupt or injure the Comaceans.”
“Understood.”
“Should I power up the defensive grid?” asked Monroe.
“Don’t bother.” The energy dispersal grid on the Pufferfish’s hull wouldn’t help against grav beams, and if the Box Jellyfish opened up with plasma weapons at this range, they’d burn through the grid in seconds. “We don’t want to provoke a fight. Right now it’s just a race, and Irwin thinks she’s going to win.”
“Is that because she is going to win?” demanded Cate.
Mops shrugged and watched one Comacean grow larger as Kumar maneuvered them beneath its belly. Beneath his belly—the skin was ribbed like corrugated steel.
“Captain, we could fire on the Box Jellyfish.” From the way Monroe hesitated over the words, he knew what Mops was likely to say, but it was his job to present all options. “Try to get in a quick strike to disable their engines without hurting the crew.”
“Even if we weren’t swimming with Comaceans, I won’t fire on an EMC ship.”
Cate scoffed. “Given how many laws you’ve violated since we met, this seems an odd time to bind yourself to such a rule.”
“The Jellyfish is within grav beam range,” Monroe announced
. “They’re probing us for a solid lock.”
“They’ll need to slow down a bit to match our speed.” Mops watched the distance counter decrease. “Kumar, keep that Comacean between us and the Jellyfish. Make them work for it.”
“I’ll try.”
A proximity alert flashed on Mops’ console. Moments later, the entire ship shuddered. Alarms turned the bridge green, and the tactical display updated to show the grav beam anchoring the two ships together.
Kumar spun from his console. “Sorry, sir. Their navigator anticipated me. Whoever’s piloting that ship, they’re better than I am.”
“Sure, but you can sanitize an entire medbay in fifty-seven minutes. I’d like to see their navigator do that.” Mops leaned back in her chair. “Any chance you can shake us free?”
“Not without breaking the ship.”
Several more tremors shook the bridge as the Pufferfish struggled to adjust internal gravity to compensate for the effects of the Jellyfish’s beam.
“If they follow standard procedures, we’ve got about twenty minutes before they draw us in close enough to disable our defenses and send boarding teams,” said Monroe.
“Would one of you please share the location of the ship’s escape pods?” asked Cate. “Purely as a precaution. Believe me, I have no intention of abandoning ship and leaving you to your fates.”
“Deck D,” said Wolf, without looking up. “For security purposes, the door is labeled ‘Central Waste Processing and Reclamation.’ Jump right in, and you’ll be fine.”
“Reduce engines.” Mops brought up the aft cargo bay controls and tried to remember how the overrides worked. Starting decompression was straightforward enough. She waited until the pressure was down to a quarter of normal, then stopped the process. When she tried to open the bay doors, a green message flashed onto her screen: Cargo bay depressurization incomplete. Please make sure all air is evacuated from the bay before opening outer doors.