by M. D. Cooper
“Nice to see that someone’s getting some enjoyment out of it.”
“Is the platoon ready?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Of course. They’re itching for action,” Beatrice replied. “We’ve been out here staring at stars a lot longer than anyone had expected.”
“Spoiled,” Terrance said with a laugh. “To think that this is ‘long’.”
“Don’t pull that ‘when I was your age’ garbage with me, mister.” The captain looked at him with a twinkle in her eye, and he wondered if she had some sort of double meaning in her words that he couldn’t quite pick out. “Doesn’t change what the soldiers expected to be doing.”
“OK, you win,” Terrance laughed, trying to keep the tone light.
“Then you’d best not besmirch their eagerness to be doing something important.”
“Trust me,” he said. “This is important.”
“Sure,” the captain nodded. “I get that, but they don’t. They want to be making personal contributions.”
“If there are some sort of hunter-killer bots in that C&C, they’ll get to make those personal contributions before long.” Terrance stopped short and shook his head. “Shit, that sounded more macabre than I meant.”
“A little gallows humor before battle.” The captain’s tone carried that same note it had earlier, as though Terrance was missing some subtext that wasn’t present in the words they were exchanging.
He glanced around the bridge, noting that the crew was focused on their tasks, though smiles had quirked the lips of a few.
“Are you sure you want to go down with the advance team?” Captain Beatrice asked after a moment. “I should add, is there anything I can do to convince you not to go?”
“Well, probably, but stopping me would require something rather extreme. I must admit, I’m not so different than your platoon of soldiers. I need to feel like I’m doing my part as well.”
Especially since my actions set so much of this in motion.
“Hard to argue with that.” The captain paused, turning to glance at Terrance. “Just keep your head down, sir. If you don’t make it back, I might as well fall on my sword.”
Terrance nodded, keeping his expression neutral.
He hated being someone else’s baggage, but that wasn’t going to stop him from getting involved. The core AIs had created a mystery, and that mystery had a plan. Though most of his life had been spent fighting corporate enemies, he’d negotiated with the business end of a rifle more than most people thought.
“Don’t worry, I have a vested interest in making it back. And I know which end of the gun is the dangerous one.”
“Weapon,” the captain corrected with a smile. “My ship has guns, you’ll be carrying a weapon.”
Terrance flashed her a grin and slapped her on the shoulder. “I love you fleet types.”
Captain Beatrice shot him a strange look as he walked away, and then called out, “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Sorry what?” Terrance turned and asked, picking up something unexpected in the woman’s voice.
“That you’re coming back,” she said hastily, then added, “And that I’m not going to have to fall on my sword.”
“Oh,” Terrance said, nodding quickly. “Of course, you can count on it.”
He left the bridge, wondering if the captain had been responding to his statement that he ‘loved’ fleet types. There was no arguing that Beatrice was a lovely woman.
She had a broader figure than women who normally caught his eye, but she had a grace to her movements that masked that well. That didn’t bother him at all, especially because of the fiery intensity that lurked behind her almost blood-red eyes.
Though she always behaved with decorum, there was an intensity behind those eyes that spoke of a different side to the ship’s captain.
Maybe I should see what that’s all about, after this mission.
A few minutes later, he reached the platoon’s sortie room and shook hands with Lieutenant Jordan.
“Ready to kick some ass?” Terrance asked.
“Always, sir,” the woman replied. “Though I suspect that there won’t be any asses down there, just machines…so, heat vents? Servos? Not as inspiring.”
Terrance snorted. “No, I suppose not. Let’s be clear, though, there will be defenses, and they’re not going to play nice, so we keep our eyes peeled and respond with maximum force to any threat.”
“I like this guy!” one of the privates called out.
The lieutenant shot the woman a look, and then gestured to the armor rack as she settled her attention back on Terrance. “You familiar with our gear, sir?”
“I did a test fit a day ago,” Terrance replied. “Got my preferred loadout set up and then ran some sims. I think I’m good to go.”
The lieutenant gave him a look of respect. “Glad to hear it, sir. Your public profile says you’ve seen combat before, though not where.”
“Well, I saw some back on Carthage when the Trissies landed their ships. Urban stuff in Landfall. Before that, it had been some time, unless you count that brief scuffle in the Kap. But yeah, I’ve fought on just about every type of terrain and theatre you can imagine.”
“Alice,” one of the sergeants called out, nodding to a private checking her loadout nearby. “Maybe you should pay attention to what Mister Enfield does. Could learn a thing or two.”
“Sure thing, Sarge. Never learned much watching you,” Alice replied, laughing until the sergeant walked over to her and whispered something in her ear that made her face grow pale.
“Good crew you have here,” Terrance said as he backed up to the armor rack and closed his eyes as it began to wrap him in the TSF’s mid-weight assault buildout.
He knew they wouldn’t use him for any scouting, and he hated the way heavy armor restricted movement. The Transcend’s assault armor suited him best.
Doesn’t hurt that it also comes with a shoulder mounted railgun.
“Sir.” One of the soldiers walked up to Terrance as he stepped off the rack. “I’ll just check over your loadout and seals.”
“Of course,” Terrance said, holding out his arms. “Specialist Larson, you’re the TSF’s breach AI on this mission?”
“Yes I am, sir. I’ve gone up against some of the best out there, but never against core AI tech. Earnest has loaded me up with more breach routines than I thought existed. I’m ready to take them down.” She turned her head, nodding in the direction of another figure further back in the sortie room. “However, I’m not primary on this mission. An ISF pinnace arrived a few hours ago with Commander Sue aboard.”
“Sue!” Terrance exclaimed aloud, craning his neck around as he looked for her.
The utterance caught her attention, and the AI strolled over, the ISF frame’s design standing out in stark contrast to the TSF soldier’s armor.
“Good to see you, sir,” the AI replied. “I was wondering when you were going to realize I was aboard.”
“You came with the supply pinnace?” he asked.
“Yeah, a few hours ago. I didn’t mean to hide from you, but you were getting your beauty rest. Then Earnest accosted me and began loading me up with data and new techniques along with Specialist Larson, here.”
Terrance couldn’t help himself and reached out to embrace the AI, not caring that their armor clacked loudly—or that she was an AI and an embrace didn’t mean as much to her.
“Stars, you know, I haven’t seen you since a year after Carthage landfall.”
“I know…I took a lot longer to recover from losing Trist than I expected. And then when Jessica disappeared…well, I lost myself in my work, out at New Canaan’s heliopause.”
“No blame here, Sue,” Terrance replied. “We all had a lot of personal rebuilding to do once we got to Canaan.”
“OK, let’s not delve too deep into the past,” Sue said, taking a step back, her helmeted head cocking to the side as she regarded him. “I know how you organics get al
l mushy.”
Terrance nodded. “Too much in the past to think about right before a mission. There’s a whole future to worry about, and we can actually do something about that.”
“Good attitude,” Specialist Larson said.
“OK, you louts!” Lieutenant Jordan shouted a moment later, drawing everyone’s attention to herself. “Scan’s just updated our tactical net with the latest surface visuals. This moon’s just a little bitty rock. Less than five percent standard gravity. Don’t go bounding and banging. Maglocks on if they work, controlled and tactical.”
“I love to go banging!” the same private who had made the prior colorful comment called out.
“Stow it, Flo,” Jordan shouted. “Don’t forget, we have guests, so let’s try to look like a professional unit out there. You all wanted to see some shit, and this is going to be it. These AIs we’re going up against probably know every trick in the book, but that’s why we have some oldies but goodies with us.
“I have operational command of this mission,” the lieutenant continued. “But if Commander Sue or Mister Enfield says something, you listen. They’ve seen more shit than you’ve ever imagined.”
“I can imagine a lot of—” Flo began, but a hand came out of the crowd and slapped her in the back of the head, shutting her up.
Jordan gave a thankful nod to the sure-handed sergeant. “Scan’s picked up the source of EM coming from the moon. It’s centered in a crater near the equator. We’re going to come in low and settle down in the lee of its rim. We’ve got two birds as our chariots today, so first and second squad are with me, as are Mister Enfield and Commander Sue. Third and Fourth, you’re with Staff Sergeant Yens and Specialist Larson.”
The lieutenant paused, pulling her helmet from under her arm as her head swiveled from side to side, surveying her troops.
“OK, then, you fantastic assholes…. Let’s go take these core AIs down a notch!”
She pulled her helmet onto her head as the TSF soldiers shouted ‘Roo-AH!’ and then filed out of the sortie room, double-timing it toward the drop bay.
Terrance followed the last squad, with Sue and the lieutenant following behind.
The shock of seeing Sue again after so many years was wearing off, and he wanted to ask her why she’d given up starship command for tactical operations—especially with how short the ISF was on experienced starship commanders.
Save it, Terrance. Give yourself something to look forward to.
On the way to the drop bay, he reviewed the latest scan data on the crater and the anticipated defenses. It was all but raw speculation. Neither the ISF or TSF had ever encountered a core AI facility—if that’s what this was. There was a possibility that it had been left by someone else in the past, or that perhaps it wasn’t even Terran in origin.
However, the presence of core AI remnants in the IPE made the final two options far less likely. He fervently hoped that the facility they were going to was fully automated, though each fireteam had a shadowtron on the chance it wasn’t.
The two stealth shuttles hunkered in the bay, their surfaces designed with configurable angles to alter their profile and reflect away any active scan systems. Not that the ultra-black, Elastene-like material was likely to reflect much of anything.
It still gave him a sense of pride to know that nearly every stealth system in the galaxy utilized essentially the same technology that his own research team back on Alpha Centauri had pioneered in the thirty-first century.
At the same time, it brought him a little sadness. Of all the people he had set out with, traveling from Alpha Centauri to other near-Sol colonies, only Jason Andrews was still alive. It made so many of their daily experiences bittersweet.
“Shuttle two,” Lieutenant Jordan directed, and Terrance followed her, Sue taking up the rear.
Inside was a standard troop bay, spare and utilitarian, with two rows of dampening seats that could also form a full pod to seal the soldier up for an emergency eject. It was such a logical system, he was surprised more dropships didn’t utilize it. Bring the squad down as one unit, fake out the enemy, and turn them into helljumpers.
His seat was in the middle of the right row, and he settled into it, leaning back to let the straps and bands wrap around him.
“How many drops you been on, sir?” a corporal across the aisle asked.
Terrance glanced at the man and shrugged. “More than a few hot drops into active combat.”
“Where at?” a private asked.
“Well, my first planetary drop was in Tau Ceti. I hit dirt on Galene and joined up with their Marines to stop…well, an insurrection, I suppose.”
The question was innocuous, but the answer brought back memories of Khela and how they’d met, before spending long years together. Which led to how they’d separated and the shame he still felt from it.
Funny how shame seems to stack up.
“Stop bugging our guest,” one of the squad sergeants said, and Terrance was grateful for the reprieve.
He took a moment to review the personnel on the two squads, and then leant back in his seat, closing his eyes.
As the shuttle took off, he began to run through a series of breathing exercises, knowing that, from now until they touched down, everything was out of his hands. It was a calm feeling, and one that he endeavored to maintain as long as possible.
That ended up being just over thirty minutes. Then the shuttle exploded.
BOTTLED MESSAGE
STELLAR DATE: 10.12.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: IS Shuttle approaching Normandy
REGION: Khardine System, Transcend Interstellar Alliance
Sera turned her head to look across the small pinnace’s cockpit at Jason as he piloted the craft toward the small moon named Norway. He spotted her surreptitious look and flashed her a grin in response.
She smiled back, unable to ignore how happy he always was when flying a ship. There was a special crinkle in the corner of his eyes that only showed up when at the helm…or stick, depending on what he was flying.
She craned her neck a bit further, nodding to Roxy, who sat behind Jason, while Jane rode in the seat behind Sera.
At first, Sera had planned to go down to the moon alone with Jason, but after Roxy had officially taken on the assistant director’s role in the Hand, she had all but insisted she come along to see what was going on with the QuanComm messages being altered.
Sera couldn’t very well say she wanted alone time with her beau, so she had acquiesced.
“Nervous?” Jason asked as he looked over his display, reviewing the craft’s status.
“Me?” Sera snorted. “We’re going to check out an anomaly at a glorified comm shack. What’s there to be nervous about?”
The governor shrugged, a boyish gesture that seemed at odds with the grey-haired senior captain she’d first met on the Intrepid years ago.
A part of her missed his statelier look, but she understood that availing himself of rejuv so that he could handle the demands of office was wise. He’d also assured her that he’d get old again, adding in one of his saucy winks.
“Beats me, you’re the one that’s fidgeting like there’s nothing else to do.”
“That’s because there is nothing else to do,” Sera muttered. “Stealth approach to this place means that I’m stuck inside my own head, and this ship is stripped down so much, it barely has an onboard logging comp.”
“Right, because that’s what I love to do for fun,” Sera drawled.
Carmen said.
“Your human?” Sera’s brows rose in mock outrage, and she caught sight of Jason covering his mouth to laugh. “Oh, is it funny, mister?”
“No,” Jason sh
ook his head. “Just reminds me about something that an old friend used to say.”
She was going to ask him for details, but his expression grew clouded, and he busied himself with the ship’s navigation console.
“Do I?” she asked. “Sorry, I guess that’s an unintentional slip-up. I think it’s like saying ‘my friend’, but since you’re inside my head, it helps to identify our relationship.”
“I’ve never asked you to,” Sera said, an annoyed breath blasting out her nostrils.
“That’s different! I didn’t ask you to do them for me, just help with research and analysis!”
“See?” Jason asked, reaching over and placing a hand on Sera’s thigh. “You’re a bit on-edge.”
The two women in the seats behind had fallen silent and still. Their reaction made her angry for an instant, but then she took a deep breath and reminded herself that everyone had pressure, and that they were all dealing with more shit than most people could imagine. No one needed her losing it and making things worse.
“My father wants to relinquish his presidency, which may come back to me,” she explained after a minute of silence. “Though he understands I don’t want it. He suggested Krissy, but after thinking about it, I’m not totally sure she’d take it, or that it would be wise, given her duties and the work she has to do.”
“Ahhh.” Jason pursed his lips, angling the pinnace toward the small moonlet and entering into a holtzman transfer orbit.
“Just ‘ahhh’?” she asked.
“Well, I mean…you can’t make someone be in charge who really doesn’t want to. It’s not a great idea to force them to, either.”
“That’s how I feel.”
“I know, I was referring to you, Sera.” Jason gave her a kind look, and she felt even worse for having snapped at him.
“Oh, sorry.”
“I know it doesn’t help with your family problem,” Roxy said a minute later. “But feel free to pass me any reports you’d like. I don’t mind, and I like to stay busy.”