Kae wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist. “Yes, Colonel, but there’s always something we don’t know. You wouldn’t throw us into the middle of the shit if you had a choice, or if you knew they had ballbusters like nukes.”
“And I’d be right there with you. Which suit is mine?” Marcie replied, looking over her husband’s shoulder as he nuzzled her neck.
“Nuuumpff,” he said.
She pushed him to arm’s length. “Say that again.”
“None of them,” he replied softly, looking into her eyes.
“Fine.” She turned to Daniel. “When will more suits be ready?”
“We’re churning out four a week, but we’ll be out of raw materials after the next four. Shipment due in a month, start again, four per week. You still need thirty-two or something like that, so say about four months.”
“How in the hell does that come to four months?” Marcie wondered, ticking the numbers off her fingers. Auburn was mumbling the math to himself.
“Raw material shipments are every other month, maybe even every third month. I prefer to under-promise and over-deliver, but judging by the expression on your faces four months isn’t what you wanted to hear.”
Daniel shifted uncomfortably, looking from one face to the next.
“We could have ten operations between now and then,” Kaeden remarked.
“Or you could pace yourself until you’re fully outfitted,” Daniel countered.
Kae, Marcie, and Auburn started to laugh.
“You don’t know Dad or the pack. The only reason we won’t have twenty ops is…” Kae stopped, pickled his expression, and turned to Marcie.
“There is no reason. Just travel, and since we can gate within a star’s gravity well, even that doesn’t take long. So ten, twenty-five—whatever it may be. You can guaran-damn-tee that we’re going to be busy,” Marcie explained.
“I’ll do my best,” Daniel told them. He couldn’t guarantee anything except that he would make calls and try to instill the sense of urgency into his supply chain.
“I’ll ask my dad to call Nathan and see if we can get a little extra horsepower on our side,” Kae said, as if reading Daniel’s mind.
After they looked at each other for a few moments they realized there was no more conversation left, so the warriors nodded politely and left.
“Dad is running the levels?” Kae asked once they were in the corridor.
“That’s what I hear. I think he’s got the pack with him, so you should be able to hear their grumbling before you see them.”
“Why weren’t we invited?” Kae liked the unit runs.
“Because we show up to work outs on time. The pack acts like they’re back in New York City.” Marcie listened, then looked up and down the corridor. Terry and the others would run through the one they were in at some point in their journey.
“How would you know what they were like back then?”
“I know this one!” Auburn interjected, waiting a few moments before delivering his punchline. “Because Char said they were acting that way.”
They chuckled together until interrupted by a distant voice.
“Would you keep up?” Terry Henry Walton bellowed from well down the corridor. The station was round, but didn’t need to rotate to maintain artificial gravity. The outer rings on each deck provided the longest routes.
Logistics was located between two docking bays for ease of transloading raw materials. The automated factory occupied the interior section of the deck. When major deliveries were being made, the corridor was closed as equipment moved back and forth from outer to inner areas. The next ship wasn’t due for a week, so the space was open and free for recreational use.
Or torture, which TH appeared to be inflicting. He had picked up his pace to the inhuman speeds that the enhanced could achieve and Char was right behind him, but Dokken fell back. No one else was in sight.
Marcie was waiting at an intersection and held out a hand to stop the train heading down the tracks. Terry reared back as he pulled up and breathed deeply and quickly. Char matched his pose, hands on her head to expand her lungs more fully and pull in the most air possible. Dokken trotted up, tongue lolling.
I think you are a horrible human, Dokken broadcast to everyone’s chip.
“What do you mean?” Terry replied defensively.
I don’t run like that. If you wanted to see how fast you could go, you should have left me out of it. I’m done with this exercise in fertility.
“Futility,” Terry corrected.
Exactly. Dokken limped away.
“Hang on, are you hurt?” Terry hurried to the dog’s side, checking his rear leg. Dokken yipped when Terry touched a certain place.
He picked Dokken up gingerly and started to run. “We’re going to the Pod-doc!” he yelled out the side of his mouth.
Dokken stuck his tongue out at the group of watchers, dog-smiling over Terry’s shoulder.
Char watched them go. “I think my husband just got played by a German Shepherd. Let’s follow in case there’s fireworks.”
Char took off after TH and the others fell in behind her.
* * *
Ted looked at Ankh, who returned his gaze. To someone who didn’t know them they would have appeared to be in a staring contest, but they weren’t.
They were linking through the artificial intelligence called “Plato” using the advanced chips that Ted had designed. So far only Ted and Ankh had had them surgically implanted in their brains.
Ted considered it liberating, as if his consciousness were expanding to fill the universe. He was in a place that challenged his mind all day, every day.
Ankh looked at problems in ways Ted would not have considered, and the insight from an alien mind made Ted better.
Ted appreciated Ankh, validation which he hadn’t received from his fellow Crenellians. They went about their business and did their jobs, staying physically as far as possible from their fellows. Basically, they lived within their computer systems. The small alien had the best of all worlds with the Bad Company. He had access to more powerful computers than he had imagined existed, and he had the freedom to explore both the real and virtual worlds.
He’d even drunk a beer.
Ted blinked and glared at Ankh. “Beer? You should be thinking about interstellar communication. How do we burst the signal for instantaneous transfer?”
The Crenellian’s big head bobbed about before he stood. “I apologize for my distraction. How long have we been at this?”
Ted glanced at the clock, but it was inconclusive. He needed more data. “What day is it?”
Plato said through the room’s speakers, “You’ve been at this for more than two days, and you are both malnourished and dehydrated. You need to drink, eat, and rest—in that order, please. I will shut down all research and development systems for the next ten hours.”
“You can’t do that. We have work to do!” Ted stood too and looked from screen to screen, but they were all dark. “Plato?”
Ankh reached over his head to stretch, the skin tightening across his ribs. “Yes. Food would be a good idea.”
Ted didn’t want to leave. He thought they were ready to cross the next threshold; to be that much closer to a solution regarding instantaneous interstellar communications. Infinite power took care of a number of problems, which meant they could focus elsewhere and keep knocking down the obstacles until there weren’t any more.
And he needed those communications so he and Felicity could talk with their kids to find out what was going on back on Earth. How were they holding up?
The others wanted to talk to those they had left had behind as well. The issue was always there, but no one discussed it. Ted was about to change that by opening a channel so everyone could stay in touch with their families.
After a meal and some sleep, of course.
* * *
Dokken came out of the Pod-doc much perkier than he had gone in. “Thank you,” Terry told the te
chnician running the advanced device. Char stood behind TH, shaking her head and holding a finger to her lips.
The technician nodded. “You’re welcome.”
Char smiled and mouthed the words, “thank you.”
I feel like a new dog! Dokken exclaimed, twitching his eyebrows. No more runs.
“I thought you were a little more stalwart. No wonder you can’t catch Wenceslaus! Is it just me, or have you noticed that the cat is getting fat?”
Dokken huffed, coughed, and barked. Blasphemy! He has help, and you know it. That engineer is sheltering him, and I suspect Smedley Butler is in on it too.
“You like Clodagh, and you know it.”
Do not. She smells of cat. It makes me sneeze.
“I see. Maybe if you spent more time with her you’d block the Good King Wenceslaus. He would come to you.”
You may have a point, human. I will consider it once we are back aboard the War Axe.
“Until then, dog, what’s our next move?”
Dokken sat, rocked backwards, and used a back paw to scratch the side of his head. When he was finished he stood and shook himself, causing a small cloud of hair to rise into the air.
The technician sighed.
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Terry said, embracing the pun as he hurried from the medical space. Char and Dokken led the way out.
Once in the corridor, Dokken stopped and looked up at Terry Henry. Thank you for taking care of me, but I must be off now. See you around dinnertime?
“Where do you have to go?” Terry wondered aloud.
Places to go, people to see, Dokken replied as he trotted away.
“You know he wasn’t really injured,” Char said, watching the German Shepherd happily wagging his tail as he turned a corner and disappeared.
“I know. I told the technician to not do anything with the Pod-doc. He closed the door, turned on the lights for a minute, and opened the door. I was running poor Dokken into the ground, and carrying him here was my way of apologizing. He knows it and I know it, but as long as no one says it out loud we can hold on to our dignity.”
Char snorted as she draped her arms around her husband’s neck. “And what, if I may ask, is your definition of dignity?”
“‘The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die, But if that flow'r with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity. For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds,’” Terry quoted from Shakespeare.
“After you made Felicity cry you probably don’t want to show your face on the promenade, my festering lily.” Char’s purple eyes sparkled and her hair perfectly framed her face, the silver streak trailing down one side.
“I am smitten,” TH admitted.
“How about a shower? You’re kind of rank.”
“I’m all kinds of colonel, aren’t I?”
Char pushed him away. “You promoted yourself once a hundred and thirty years ago. Your upward mobility sucks.”
“Rank it is, my love.” Terry took Char’s hand as they started walking toward the quarters area of the station. “And then a staff meeting to refine the planning for Benitus Seven.”
Char stopped. “You could have brought that up after dessert.”
“Are we going to lunch?”
Char rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Last one to our place has to clean up the bathroom.” She launched herself forward at werewolf speed, and it dawned on Terry what she’d been talking about.
Too worried about the next op to see what’s right in front of you, he thought as he accelerated, enjoying the wind of his passing blowing his hair back. He smiled as he sprinted to keep Char in sight. She ran effortlessly.
This is why we do what we do. The freedom to be happy, so people can play without worry about whether they’ll be alive tomorrow or not, whether that tear in the dimensional fabric will affect them. Monsters! It is our job to give the people the joy of ignorance. No one needs to know the danger, only that the Bad Company will protect them.
Chapter Three
“We don’t know a whole lot, do we?” Marcie stated after the initial briefing.
Terry Henry Walton shook his head. “This meeting is about filling in the gaps in our knowledge. We’ve built a recon plan. Kaeden?”
“You bet, Pops,” Kae replied, standing up.
Terry stopped him. “‘Pops?’ Where the hell did you get that from?”
“Some old black and white movies. It sounded groovy.” Kae nodded to the others in the room—werewolves, weretigers, vampires, aliens, and those in Terry and Char’s family, enhanced by nanocytes and leaders all.
Terry turned to Char and whispered, “I’m not sure I like that.”
Char shushed him.
“Returning to the matter at hand…” Kae began. He was nearly one hundred and fifty years old, but embraced the youth that the nanocytes gave his body. Regardless of appearance, Kaeden was a skilled tactician and experienced in combat.
“As you’ve taught us, there is nothing like having eyes on target before committing to a final action plan. Let’s talk about what that looks like…”
* * *
Felicity leaned back in her overstuffed chair behind her oversized desk. Daniel stood in front of the desk with a man dressed like a prison inmate. An armed security guard stood behind the pair.
“I’d like to introduce Brice. He’s one of the few who isn’t incapacitated by the sight of a woman.”
“Good morning, Brice.” Felicity knew why they were there, but wanted to wait until the man spoke.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said in a soft voice, looking at the desktop. “My name is ‘Bo-ah-Rice,’ but I like the way you pronounce it.”
Daniel looked surprised.
“‘Brice’ it is. What can I help you with?”
“We are eating the rations from our ships, but those will run out soon. We will need food if we are to survive, but as our captors, it is yours to decide if we live or die.”
Felicity smiled pleasantly, draping her blonde hair behind one ear. “That’s not how we do business. You were freed from your oppression by the Direct Action Branch, but you are now under my protection and I’m the senior civilian authority in these parts. Your lives are not in jeopardy,” Felicity drawled slowly as he leaned forward on her desk.
“The food?” the man asked.
“Already ordered. A freighter should arrive within the next few days. They will also be carrying a great stock of spacesuits. We need your people to help us build a functioning shipyard where we can repair or upgrade any vessel which visits. That work is very important to us, and every worker will be paid in Federation credits. The workforce will have quarters on this station with access to all that we have here—restaurants, shops, recreation, people.”
“How will the females be apportioned? Surely there aren’t enough to go around?”
“I’m sorry. I saw your lips moving and heard some words come out, but none of them made any sense to me,” Felicity replied in a low and dangerous voice.
The man stuttered, but stopped before he said anything else.
“From what I hear, the entity known as ‘Ten’ picked a select few for breeding, and they remained behind on Home World. Everyone else was put to work and prevented from interacting with women in any way,” Daniel offered.
“This is the truth,” Brice confirmed.
“Holy shit.” Felicity covered her mouth with one hand at her verbal transgression. “I’ve been around those vagrants and mongrels for too long...” Felicity shook her head and sighed before continuing, “What was that? You don’t ever get to see women?”
“The first women we have seen have been those from the Bad Company. You are the first woman I’ve ever talked to. May I touch your hair?”
“No. You may not touch my hair. We need someone to train eleven hundred men in how to treat women, appropriate social skills…” Felicity’s eyes crossed as sh
e pondered the inconceivable. “I have it—it has to be me.”
Daniel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and the guard looked nervous.
“What’s your name back there?” Felicity asked.
The guard pointed to himself, and Felicity nodded.
“There are those who call me ‘Tim,’” he replied ominously.
“As long as one of those was your mother I’ll accept that. Tim, I’m going to make you my liaison to our guests. He’s not to touch my hair or any other part of me or any other woman on this station. Then we’ll need to set up a way to talk with these people. By the way, what do you call yourselves?”
Brice wore a blank expression.
“Hello?” Felicity stared at the man.
“Nothing,” he finally replied.
“That won’t do. How should we identify you? Because we surely are not going to call you ‘the captives.’ You are free to become contributing members of our society. The only choice you won’t have is to return to the fold on Home World. I suspect that once Terry Henry and his gang get done with it, there won’t be anything to go back to anyway.”
All three men stood uncomfortably before Felicity’s desk.
“Fine. Tim, take Brice for a walk around the station. Introduce him to some people, like the shipyard manager and as many of the foremen as you can find. Let’s see how we can temper our approach and bring an army of good workers on board.”
Tim nodded politely and ushered Brice out. Daniel waited. Felicity rolled her finger at him. Out with it.
“If we don’t get a resupply on food within the next couple days we’ll have to start rationing.” His forehead wrinkled in concern.
“I know, Daniel, but the first one should arrive in time and deliver enough to get us by until our big shipments hit. With this kind of manpower we might have to get our own gate, because the freighters are limited to traveling with the big warships. My husband is working on something so even little ships will be able to gate. That could solve our problems, and these are some big problems,” Felicity drawled.
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