"It means we have a mission to carry out, and a license to do so as we see fit. We know the target planet has Colonial sympathizers, and whether or not we get down safely my broadcast will tell them that at least we tried. But our priority is still to establish a secure base, and cycle the sleepers as fast as possible. We’ll deal with any political ramifications once we complete that objective."
Katra nodded, and Jantine was about to dismiss the team when JonB spoke up.
"When you say, get down safely, does that mean you don’t expect us to?"
JonB hadn’t made any friends since coming aboard, even among the other civvies. His pessimism always seemed out of place in a scientist, and Jantine hoped that if—when—they landed, one of the sleeper Betas would be a better fit to act as her chief science advisor. It’s not that she disliked the dark-haired mod, but she’d rather deal with someone she felt a real connection to as her civilian liaison, instead of someone assigned to her by the Alphas because he did well on tests.
"It means that right now, I’m in command of twelve mods and not a lot else. We’ve got exactly two buttons left to push that can control our destiny, and a whole bunch of hopefully empty space between us and our objective. Once we jettison the hyperdrive module and re-enter normal space, best case scenario has us a few hundred million kilometers from the planet, and on target. If all goes well, Malik will orient us as soon as we’re in normal space and start our burn accordingly."
Jantine tried not to think about how insane it was to be traveling through space—hyper- or otherwise—without any way to change their destination. The cargo slug the containers were attached to had no maneuvering thrusters, no navigation sensors, and worst of all, no weapons.
Not that any were necessary. The slug itself was a weapon, a mass of rock and iron moving at relativistic speeds. Aimed directly at a planet, it was so potentially destructive that until now the human race had avoided using anything like it in five centuries of space travel.
Jantine’s team was another kind of weapon, one meant to be fired and discarded after use. According to the Alphas’ plan, her crew container and its twin containing the sleepers would detach from the slug as they approached the target planet. Their projected insertion point was far above the plane of the ecliptic, so slug itself would go on traveling into interstellar space once the containers were away. If the plan worked, they’d come down intact on gravity buffers, blast their way out into sunshine and clean air and start killing anything that moved while the civvies and Omegas started building them a stronghold.
If. Lots of ifs. But the Alphas had big brains, and they said it would work. So Jantine believed it would too.
Mostly.
"Carlton, Harren, are you ready?"
The civvie Betas actually were crèche-sibs, and responsible for reviving the sleepers as soon as it was determined safe to do so. Unlike JonB, they were open and jovial, and tended to finish one another’s sentences.
"You bet, Boss. Find us a spot to work in, and we’ll get the job done."
Harren nodded at Carlton’s words, and she knew they’d get it done. All of them would, even JonB.
We have to be more than our numbers. At least for a little while.
"Then that’s all for now. We’ve got a little more than two hours until the transition. I want our camp broken down and final readiness reports in one hour."
And with that, the meeting was over. Jantine stood as the crew filed out, running a hand over her jumpsuit in search of crumbs. There were none, but generations of Betas before her had done the same thing after a meal, whether or not they were in the field. It was the little things that got you killed. Even though they would likely be dead soon anyway, there was no reason to abandon discipline.
Carlton and Harren were hanging back from the others, and it took her a moment to process that they were waiting for her to exit the tent. This space needed to be collapsed as well, and since the team had already eaten there was no need to leave it standing.
Jantine picked up several crates to carry outside. Everybody helped on this team—there were no ranks or egos to interfere. Jantine was in command, Malik backed her up, and everybody else did their jobs. Jarl would likely assume command if both of them were incapacitated, but given how few combat operatives they had it wouldn’t be for very long.
Out in the too-white light of the cargo unit, Jantine watched the camp collapse around her. As each gray-green shelter came down, the mission got more real. They were going to invade an inhabited world, establish both an initial base and a hidden colony, and then defend them to the death with only the barest hope of support from the local population.
No problem. Yet.
Jantine had dealt with her own gear right after she’d made the call, so she had time now to circulate and talk to her people one-on-one. For her first conversation, she selected Doria and the Omegas.
The trio was securing the other team members’ crates as they were assembled, in preparation for a hard landing. There was no guarantee Malik could get them down in the same relative orientation they had now, and to power the external buffers he’d need to kill the internal gravity.
Watching the Omegas work filled Jantine with something akin to the wonder the civvies felt when Crassus and Artemus ran sims. There was no wasted movement in their activity—just a quiet grace she wished she could emulate.
Jantine was a hair slower than most other Betas, a bit more awkward and unsure of her body. But her mind worked much faster than she could explain to the others. She could see each Omega’s actions for the poetry it was, knew exactly how much force they were using, and how much they were holding back.
Doria knew. Doria knew everything, though she rarely let on. Her empathic mods let her speak for the Omegas, but they also gave her unparalleled insight into the mental health of all the team members.
Doria didn’t look up from her handheld when she spoke, continuing to catalog the mission’s supplies. The Omegas had seen Jantine approach, and likely had relayed that information to the Gamma through their link.
"They really like you. They want me to make sure you understand that. They’re sorry you’re so sad."
Sad? I’m not . . .
"You’re not like the other Betas, and they know it. You’re special, but alone."
Jantine stood silent, unsure of exactly how, or to whom, she should reply. Doria tapped out something on the handheld and then turned to look at Jantine. As if sensing the nature of her conversation, the Omegas turned away to wait for the next crate. Jantine knew they could hear every sound in the container if they wished, but also that they understood the other mods needed privacy now and then.
"It’s okay, the damper is running. We’re as alone as you need us to be."
Doria waved a hand toward a pair of chairs that had yet to be stowed, and smiled. Jantine returned the expression, and took one of the offered seats.
"Is this an official session, then?"
"If you’d like. The chairs are here for everyone, and I expect you won’t be the last visitor we have over the next hour. What we’re doing isn’t . . . small."
Jantine nodded, as much at Doria’s phrasing as the words themselves.
"No—no, it’s not. You were communicating with the Omegas during the meeting. Is there something they want?"
"Katra asked more or less the same question they had, and you answered it well enough. They wanted to be sure the team understood the full meaning of the message. But they were more concerned about you than anything else. Like they said, you seemed sad."
There’s that word again.
"I’m fine, really. This is a big thing. An impossible thing, really. Everything has to go exactly right for this to end well, and so little of it is in our control."
"And the Omegas know that. We all do, even JonB. But we volunteered for a one-way trip knowing we might not even make it that far. The Alphas could have picked anyone for command. They chose you, and that’s enough for us."
Jan
tine exhaled, pushing herself back a bit into the chair and wishing it were a warm pile of blankets she could hide in until the mission was over. It wasn’t sadness the Omegas felt in her, but doubt. She could admit to herself, if not to Doria, how overmatched she felt for what was to come. Why she’d delayed making the call for so long, when she knew she had to do it from the moment the cargo slug launched.
The Omegas are perceptive, and they talk to Doria. But can the others figure it out?
Jantine was older than Doria by a couple of years, but she’d spent those years absorbing tactics and history, while Doria had spent almost all of her time since leaving the crèche listening to people’s problems. It made the Gamma seem so much older and competent by comparison, even though Doria was among the physically weakest mods on the team.
"Thanks. And let them know I appreciate their concern, will you? I know that I wasn’t all that approachable in the command tent."
"I will." Doria smiled and gestured toward the Omegas. "And don’t worry about the Builders. They’re the most well-adjusted among us. They don’t worry about the same things the rest of us do in the Colonies. To hear them tell it, they’ve been preparing for a mission like this for a very long time, almost since the exile."
Jantine took pause at this, trying to remember exactly when the Omega line stabilized. It was one of the last mods to really distinguish itself from the baseline, the first expressions arriving a good fifty years after the Gammas bred true. The Omega community adapted well to life in the Colonies, and were full partners in the Accords. Jantine couldn’t imagine a society without Omega architects and builders, where artists made music and drew pictures with senses designed for one planet only.
If any of us could plan on that scale, it would be the Alphas. But the Omegas might be capable of it as well. They build great things. Would a shaping a society be any different than planning a city? If only we—I—knew them better.
Jantine started to stand, but Doria’s hand came over to rest on hers, and despite the seeming kindness of the gesture Jantine tensed up.
"It’s important to them that you understand. It’s all right if things go wrong. They are here to help you, and are ready to do whatever you need them to do. All you have to do is ask."
Something in Doria’s eyes made Jantine wish for the blankets again, along with a big bowl of something warm that didn’t come out of a tube. There was a meaning in the words that was pure Omega, layered and nuanced and beyond the understanding of most mods. Doria herself might not really understand the message she was delivering, but Jantine suspected she did, and that the Gamma was frightened by it.
The peaceful, gentle Omegas were ready to fight and die at her command.
Doria’s hand withdrew, and Jantine watched the other mod’s smile settle back in place.
"I understand." Jantine wanted to say more, but those two words were all that seemed appropriate. She’d answered their question, now she had to make sure the Omegas never needed to fulfill that promise of sacrifice. Instead she nodded to Doria, and walked away from the staging area.
She didn’t need to check her handheld to know how much time there was to insertion, but she’d need to talk to every member of the team like this before Malik pushed the button.
And if everyone uses their time to tell me how much faith they have in me, I sure hope we live long enough for me to thank them properly down on the surface.
Jantine
"ALL DONE WITH YOUR PEP-TALKS, BOSS?" MALIK’S whisper was barely in the audible range, but Jantine could hear the smile he normally kept hidden. He was busy strapping himself in to the cargo harness, eyes never straying from his computer. The rest of the team was making the same preparation for insertion, aligning themselves along the outer edge of the "raft" of crates the Omegas had assembled. Assuming Malik could get them to the surface intact, the harnesses should keep everyone secure as they descended.
"Why? Feeling the need to unburden yourself?"
The "pep-talks" had taken most of the two hours she’d allocated, the bulk of which was confirming all post-landing activities with JonB. Jantine could see him now in animated conversation with Doria, and by extension the Omegas, on the same topic.
Wearing encounter suits with the faceplates open, the pair of civvies almost looked like combat mods. But there was something in their eyes, a softness that betrayed their genetic programming.
They’re not ready to kill. Not as long as we’re here to do it for them.
"I’m good, Boss. Ten minutes, give or take. The readings are a bit different now, but I don’t know if that’s the end of the hyperspace corridor or something else. If we ever make a return trip, I’ll let you know."
"I’ll keep that in mind. How long until you kill the lights?"
Malik’s response was slow in coming, a personality trait to which she’d never quite grown accustomed. He wasn’t a slow thinker, he just liked to be thorough. And he had a habit of translating his very accurate responses back into plain speech to put people at ease. Jantine had no real preference, but understood that others did.
"I can probably manage the power load fine with them on. It’s the grav that uses most of the reserves. And we won’t start tapping those until we jettison the hyperdrive module."
Jantine considered several scenarios before speaking again. If it truly didn’t matter, the civvies would probably appreciate not being in the dark. They’d made the adjustment to living in constant illumination well enough, and it was their idea to stop using the simulated sky projections. Jantine definitely approved of that change—no matter what the weather was supposed to be like at their destination, seeing clouds move with no accompanying breeze just seemed wrong.
"And the other environmental systems?"
"Same general idea. We shouldn’t have to use them long enough to make a difference. We’ll either be able to land or not."
Something was bothering Jantine about insertion, more so than her earlier doubts. She felt she should be doing something right now, even something small, to increase their chances of survival. In the end it all depended on Malik’s ability to land a falling building using nothing but readouts and fast reflexes, but Jantine was responsible for keeping everyone alive, and the team had made sure she knew they had complete faith in her ability to do so.
"Kill them in five, and the other systems too. Save every erg you can. Patch me into the handhelds."
Jantine surprised herself with her confidence, but only a little. This is what she was bred for, and after so long with nothing to do she was now in her element.
Her handheld beeped twice, and checking it she saw eight ready icons waiting for her words. While the Omegas could read just fine, they preferred to communicate through Doria rather than transcriptions.
Okay, here we go.
"In five minutes, we’re going to shut down all environmental systems in preparation for insertion. Get your helmets on and breathers calibrated, and then power down all nonessential equipment. I want no stray signals. We will be weapons-hot in five minutes starting . . . now."
Jantine nodded approval at the countdown that appeared on her handheld, but then frowned at the comm request from JonB. Surrendering to the inevitable, she keyed in a privacy code and answered it. She barely had time to register his face on the screen before he started speaking.
"Is this really necessary, JTN-B34256-O? I’m reading full capacity on all power reserves, and we’re well within safety margins."
"It’s ‘Jantine,’ JonB. Or ‘Commander’ if you must, but yes, these are my orders. This is still a combat mission, and I don’t think I have to remind you of the stakes here."
Jantine could almost see JonB’s brain working inside his head. After her almost-rebuke, his lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes had narrowed. He was running options in his head, trying to figure out why she would want the extra power.
There was a very thin line between advice and insubordination, and JonB had higher intelligence scores than
she did, if less practical experience. Everything he’d said so far was correct, and she was impressed that he’d been monitoring the situation so closely. But the decision was hers to make, and he had to accept that.
I’m really hoping one of the sleepers can replace him.
"I understand . . . Jantine. I’ll message you once I confirm everyone’s breathers and suits are properly calibrated."
The connection terminated abruptly, and Jantine felt her own lips pressing together. The next few minutes were crucial to the survival of the Colonies, and if it came down to it, she had to make their sacrifice matter. One by one her team signaled their readiness, well within the deadline she’d set. Doria sent a text-only message along with her confirmation, and reading it sent another chill down Jantine’s spine.
They understand, and are ready.
How much, or how little, the Omegas really grasped about what was happening was something only Doria could tell her. But Jantine suspected it was the former, and it probably wouldn’t take much longer for the rest of the mods to come to the same conclusion they had.
All, or nothing.
"Boss?"
"Do it. Scenario Five Alpha is a go."
"Acknowledged."
On schedule, Malik disabled the environmental systems. Her encounter suit responded instantly, adding a small puff of air in her helmet every time her chest moved and keeping it the same temperature as her skin.
Jantine didn’t think she’d miss the subsonic hum of the container’s air exchangers, but without it she felt a little bit naked. With her faceplate sealed, she could only hear the sounds of her own body, and it was a bit unnerving. Nothing would change in the module for a few hours; there was plenty of shielding, and it was a completely enclosed system. But without that constant vibration stimulating the edges of her perception, the mission was now more real than ever, and she tried not to think about the fifty thousand or so things that could go wrong in the next few minutes.
She especially avoided thinking about the destruct charges Malik had just re-enabled.
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