by Pat Hauldren
“Captain, we’re here,” Zeus coughed past rough purrs. “And not one shot fired.” The tom nudged his weapon toward a corner of the bridge. “See there.”
“Daddy!” Her father lay unconscious upon the floor and alongside Marian and those of the Argo’s crew who had remained to fight. They looked asleep, or contained, as each lay within a force field of contained energy. Emily swung the rifle over a shoulder and chose the shredder.
“What have you done to them? What do you want? ” Adrenaline forced her heavy march toward her chosen alien leader. “Never mind, just get off my ship!” Emily needed both hands to aim the shredder. It didn’t matter what she shot first, a head, heart, one tentacle. The .44 would grind pounds of meat out of the thing.
A long limb reached, the leader held another jade device and Emily fired. “That’s a warning shot,” she said as sparks flew and something smelled awfully burnt.
“That'll leave a mark. Captain Revel, might I suggest removing these creatures without further damage to the Argo?”
“How will we do that?”
“Shoot them now.”
The jade device flickered and then activated. “Ooonly ooone,” a warbled voice spoke.
That was her father’s voice, but all garbled up. Emily glanced down. The leader held the rod to her father’s throat. “Heelp one,” barely her father’s voice again spoke and Emily removed the jade rod from her weapons belt.
“Leave him alone!” Emily's temper flared as the rod glowed and translated her words.
“Only one help.”
Where to concentrate? On her father? At the faceless alien? Her father’s unconscious body twitched and Emily aimed at the leader as something thudded hard to her right and her hand jerked. The second alien thrashed, its arms twitched in weak circles as its legs began to spasm, its muscles to shake.
“Long we watch,” her father’s lips moved
She lifted the .44 with both hands, her arms edged exhaustion.
“Broken. Broken. This place,” her dad spoke as the alien waved a heavy limb in a wide arch at the Argo. “Heelp. Only one.” The leader slumped aside as translator fell loose and the alien looked as if to pass out.
For months, something tailed alongside the Argo and the council tried to keep everything quiet, but her father knew that would never work. Eventually, the alien presence became the perfect excuse for the Gallant’s treason.
“Just this ship, the Argo?” Zeus locked his gaze with hers.
“Only one. No more?” Emily said and the jade device glimmered, translating. The leader’s tentacle quivered, again it pressed a translator against her father’s throat, but it slid off. But did she understand? She must understand.
“They think the Argo exploded, broke in two pieces?” She looked back at Zeus.
The tom shrugged. “This seems the case. A second case in point is that one G will return online in less than three minutes. We should shoot them now,” Zeus added.
By some weird space law, these aliens would help one. One what? “Release my captain.” Emily struggled to lift the business end of the .44 at the leader. “My father will…,” the words caught in her throat.
The bridge doors slid open and Zeus raised his weapon as Emily turned and Queenie mewed. Zeus’ mate collapsed forward, a simple stunner fell loose from her paw. Emily shuffled, hurrying as best she could toward the stricken feline.
“Queenie, what have you done?” She lay aside both weapons to pull the orange tabby onto her lap. “Oh, no, Zeus, she’s gone into labor.” Emily held a firm hand at the life which struggled within the gen-cat. “I can't do this.” Emily shook her head. “Someone’s got to help her.”
“This u chooze?” the alien’s odd staccato words gurgled.
Gambit: an end chess move, in which an insignificant piece is sacrificed for a more advantageous position.
“Captain Revel, you’re needed at the bridge.”
How much sleep this time? Maybe, three hours? By the time unit on the wall, no such luck. “On my way.” Could be anything, but hopefully not the food cyclers. Everyone, except the children, were already at half rations. Water purification held well, that was always a plus. A last brass button clipped in place and Captain Revel placed on a beret, then exited quarters.
“Engineering, it better not be the ion engines.”
“No, ma’am. Captain, it’s a message,” the young corporal’s voice trembled.
“Corporal, I’m in no good mood.”
“No, ma’am. The message mentions you by name.” The corporal opened a link and Revel listened.
“To Captain Emily Louise Revel and the good crew of the Argo, my humble greetings. My name is Alexander Ethos. My parents named me after someone you knew as a child, but that human called himself, Zander. His formal name was Alexander Peter Ivanosky and was once the Argo’s chief engineer. Zander was my father’s most trusted friend and dearly loved by our sire. Captain Revel, I believe you also knew my mother.”
Emily stared across a blanket of nameless stars as she listened to Queen’s youngest son, Alexander, continue his message of blue skies, rivers of fresh water, and tall growths that they had named, trees.
“To the Argo, I extend an invitation. From my people to yours, travel no longer weary crew of the Argo. Here, upon this world there is plenty for all. We offer you sanctuary. Come home, Captain Revel.”
The young corporal exhaled, as a shocked face stared up at her. “Captain, I’ve just received directional coordinates.”
Years ago, a child once played chess. Emily examined the displayed information. Then that ten-year-old had made her first command decision, gambit. She’d chosen one species above another. Now, and against all odds, her furry chess pieces had castled.
“Navigations, change course.”
“Captain, to do that…,” her young corporal protested, but then silenced.
“Damn protocol and the high Council. They’ve been wrong once, twice, and more.” Revel locked eyes with the corporal as the entire bridge crew nodded. Agreed to mutiny. The Argo’s great engines roared, expending precious energy that the generation ship could never recover. End move. Emily’s decision shifted with the physics of the universe.
“Ma’am, who’s Alexander?” the nav-tech spoke.
Emily huffed. "Doesn’t the educational staff teach you kids any ancient Earth history? Alexander was a Greek warrior and a king. Alexander, as legend goes, was the son of a god. His name means, protector of Mankind.”
***
Peter Keenan is a computer programmer and writer specializing in military, historical, and adventure SF in North Texas. @GeniusLemur
CARD THIRTEEN
by Peter Keenan
It was one more FUBAR in a war full of ‘em. The only difference was, my number came up this time. But I had kind of a …secret weapon. Is there such a thing as an anti-self-fulfilling prophecy?
That morning, I’d found the new dogface playing with a pack of fortune cards. He had some kinda card wheel set up. When I laughed at him, he said something about knowin’ what to look for. As if a deck of cards was smarter than our INTEL. I grabbed a card out of the deck for a smartass remark. Number thirteen, with a big grim reaper on it. He started talking about how it just meant big changes, but I walked out. The first thing I told myself afterward was I didn’t believe that crap.
Not that the dogface was that odd. I’ve seen guys cling to a lucky charm, a lucky bullet, a lucky helmet, a lucky grenade. My first louie had a lucky pen. And he went into all his missions with that pen in his pocket. Had one corporal who insisted he had to have a spent casing in his mouth. Not a lucky casing, as long as there was any old casing in his mouth, he was good. Soldiers are like that. Anything to pretend you’re safe from a random bullet. But I’d never believed that stuff. It’s just a crutch.
But when I was the last guy running toward the chopper as the VC closed in, somebody else might have said the card was right. I was about twenty yards away when the chopper blew
up, and my first thought was to check for survivors. Then another bomb dropped on it. Then a third. If somebody bullseyes like that with his mortar, he’s damn good. And the other choppers had lifted off already.
I’d already used most of my ammo and had no compass, so I was pretty well screwed from the get-go. I was ready to make my final stand when I remembered the card. No way I was gonna let a damn piece of cardboard say when I died. I was gonna live. No buts about it.
So I went to ground. The VC was almost on top of me, and the only way out was on foot. I could call one of the other choppers back, but that guy and his mortar were still around, so I’d just get them killed. I’d told the boys again and again that sometimes you gotta leave somebody behind. Ironic, but still true. Still, I wasn’t dead yet. The firebase waited a couple hours to the west. Not good odds, ‘cause the firebase was under heavy attack. After all, that’s why we were there. But I wasn’t gonna stand there and die like the card wanted.
Half the squad beat me for infiltration in training, but I slipped through the VC pretty good. I crawled to the edge of the VC group before somebody spotted me. Well, woulda spotted me. The VC gunner sat on a little ridge. One hand rested on the trigger of his RPD, and the other rested on top. He looked real careful over the whole area. A good soldier. When I looked around, I knew I couldn’t crawl any further without being spotted. To make things worse, I could tell the moment he’d spotted me, he’d swing the RPD around and hose. An mg hoses down on you, and you’ve had it.
So I played sniper. The thought of the card bugged me, but it was the only way out.
I got the VC in my sights and put two rounds in him. He screamed his head off and bled all over his RPD. I hightailed it into the jungle before his buddies got there.
It was afternoon, so I had a way to figure west. I might not find the firebase, but I’d try. I’d prove that card wrong. Or go down fighting. When they lynched grandpa, he took two men with him, and I was gonna make him proud.
About fifteen minutes later, I was still pushin’ through the jungle and feeling pretty lucky. I’d spotted no VC, no booby traps, and I saw both snakes before I got near ‘em. Everybody in the platoon was paranoid about snakes after what happened to Finster. I actually felt kinda smug for a minute, and then the sniper took his shot. I felt the shot clip my helmet, but miracle of fucking miracles, he missed. I hit the bushes, jinked into a low area, went east a ways to throw him off, turned south to get some more distance from him, and started west again.
My nerves sizzled after that, and that’s probably why I caught the sound. It was just a tiny sound, but it meant there was somebody else ahead of me. He was tryin’ to be quiet, hell, he was, but I heard him. He was there, and he was gettin’ closer. Beeline closer, like he knew where I was. I stopped, holed up in a thicket, and waited.
The oriental-looking face that peeked in was pretty flat and topped with straight black hair. I swung my rifle up and damn near blew his head off before I saw the aid bag hanging off his shoulder. Then I saw the American fatigues, and realized it was a Latino, not an oriental. The weird thing was how he was grinning like an idiot.
“Thought I heard ya,” he said. He had the good sense to keep it quiet.
“Where the hell did you come from, doc?”
“Bird went down. Same as you, probably,” he said.
“Any more with you?”
“Nope. Nobody else made it, but I’m just fine. Guess I got all the luck in the bird.”
“You sure you’re okay? Turn around, let me have a look.”
He was confused, but he did it. I gave him a careful up and down on all sides. “What’s that all about?” he asked.
“I’ve seen too many men who caught a bullet and didn’t know until it was too late. You’re clean.”
He looked at his M-16 and asked. “How much ammo do you have?”
“Mag and a half. That’ll take care of one or two. You got any?”
“Nothin.”
“I can give you a few. Better two rifles than one.”
“Nah, I’m trigger-happy and can’t shoot for crap. I’d just waste ‘em. If the VC find us, I’ll play carrot. You play stick.”
“Best chance we got, I guess. I figure our best bet is to head for the firebase to the west.”
“That’d be the firebase we were here to help in the first place?”
“You got a better idea?”
“Suppose not. Is it straight west?”
“A little south, I think.”
He pulled out a compass. “Well let’s get started.”
“You’ve got a compass? Thank god for small favors.”
We both walked in silence for a while. Nothin’ to do but look for VC.
“I’m glad I found you,” he said, “If I can get you back in one piece, you’ll be number twelve.”
“Number twelve?”
“Sorry, lemme explain. When I first got here, I did some figuring, and when I saved twelve lives, my own life was… paid for, I guess. After twelve, it meant that my life had meaning, and I didn’t come here in vain.”
“So if you save thirteen, you’ve …turned a profit.”
“Yeah.”
I looked at my rifle. “How many VC do I hafta kill before I turn a profit?”
“Dunno. Can killing ever turn a profit?”
“In a war, yeah.”
“In a war. What about in this war?”
“Probably not. But that’s for the generals to worry about.”
That was everything we said for a while. After a few miles, he poked me and pointed. A pair of VC walkin’ down the trail ahead. Too close for comfort. We spotted them, they spotted us. Shit.
The medic and I dove into the brush, and the VC did too. “Cat and mouse time, doc,” I whispered.
“Carrot and stick time,” the medic whispered back. He went crashing through the underbrush like an elephant. The VC opened up; turned out there were at least 5 of ‘em. Five AK-47’s going full auto. I thought for sure they’d gotten him, but he kept goin’. One of the VC stood a little too high trying to get a clear shot. Bad move. I fired a burst, and put one through his head. I put a couple more bursts about where another one had been shooting from. I caught a glimpse of one moving, and very nearly got a second kill. Must’ve missed him by an inch or so. A second burst woulda gotten him for sure, but my rifle was empty. That meant I was down to my last mag. The rest of the VC skedaddled, but they’d be back soon. With friends. Still, I could get the VC’s AK. That’d help our chances. But I checked my buddy first. He was okay, the lucky bastard. He wasn’t even real scared.
When we got over to where I’d dropped the VC, I found out why he’d been so hot to get a good angle. He had two rounds in his rifle, and no spare mags. Two fucking rounds. It wasn’t worth the dead weight. We left the AK. I switched my M-16 to semi-auto. Try to conserve ammo.
We went a little south before we turned west again. If they were thinking, they’d probably figure where we were headed. And if we beelined, they’d be waiting for us. It was lost time and lost ground, but we did the smart thing.
Except that it didn’t turn out to be the smart thing. Heading south, we ran into more VC. This time, there was a good six or eight there. Thank God they didn’t see us, but they were heading our way. Maybe they heard the shooting from earlier. I tapped the doc’s shoulder and whispered “Hide.”
We picked our hiding spots. He found a little hollow, and I found a couple trees with good, thick trunks. We were pretty well separated; the one place in the jungle without a million hiding places.
The VC kept comin’ down the trail. They walked slow and looked alert. Either they’d heard the shooting, or they were the buddies the guys from earlier were bringin’ back. I stayed behind the trees and hoped. I was so intent on watching them, I’d forgotten the card.
I stepped on something. To this day, I don’t know what it was. But it snapped and crackled nice and loud. To me, it almost sounded like a rifle shot. The VC all looked my way.
I’d made a noise. A fatal noise.
And then the medic made a bigger noise. There wasn’t anything accidental about it, either. He reached up, grabbed a big branch, and pulled until it snapped. The VC cut loose. I saw the bullets shredding leaves right where he’d ducked, and I figured I’d lost him. But I was gonna make ‘em pay.
My first shot hit something metal. Probably the VC’s rifle. He fell backwards and dropped his rifle. The rest went for cover. I squeezed off the bullets nice and careful. Maybe I got one or two, I don’t know. But I got them to put their heads down and keep ‘em down. I heard a noise, whirled, and damn near shot the doc for the second time. They hadn’t gotten him after all. I fired off my last three shots to make sure the VC stayed down, and we ran. And I mean ran. Musta been a country mile before we slowed down. ‘Course that meant that we had to rest. We found a spot screened by brush all around. It wasn’t defendable, but that didn’t matter anymore. Our only chance was to not get found.
After I caught my breath, I grabbed him by the shirt and said, “Listen, you don’t do that again! I don’t care about your calculations. We’re both going back, you understand? The two of us are gonna get through this.”
“Just figured I had a better chance,” he said.
“Well you didn’t! I had hard cover, you had soft cover. Soft cover don’t stop bullets!”
“Sorry,” was all he said.
My temper wheezed out. It was energy I needed against the card. Especially then. I looked at my rifle and said, “And that was the last of my ammo. We’re now officially fucked.”
“They haven’t gotten us yet,” he said. Then he looked at my neck and said, “Here gimme your second dog tag. One of us probably isn’t going to make it. The other can at least bring word.”
“What if we both die?”
“Then we’ll probably die together. When the graves people get to us, they’ll look at the recs. I’m white, you’re black. They’ll work out what goes with who.”