by B. V. Larson
Winslade’s hands jumped out of the way. “Oh, I see. Pray continue.”
Armel went back to the work, and he was pecking stuff, watching the response, then pecking more stuff. It was hard to follow.
“What kind of a code is that?” I asked.
“It’s advanced,” Natasha said. She sounded kind of breathy, kind of turned on, almost. “Algorithmic. One wrong character, and it knows you’re not running the right algorithm. I’m surprised Armel can keep up with it.”
I gripped her shoulders. “Can you duplicate his work?”
“I don’t know… maybe. So far, he’s been increasing the binary code behind each digit typed, then transposing—James, let go of me.”
I had her hand in mine, and I was running off with her. She stumbled behind me like a kid being hustled out of a candy store.
“Just can’t wait, huh McGill?” Carlos asked we rushed by. He made kissy faces at me, but I didn’t have time to bash him one.
We pulled up short in front of Graves. He was standing in front of the hatchway with his arms crossed.
“Where do you two think you’re going?”
“To the bridge, sir. Armel’s typing in the code, but he’s going to screw it up.”
“Why do you think that—and how do you know what’s going on Gold Deck?”
“First off, Winslade is micromanaging Armel. That’s how I know he’s going to mess it up. Secondly, well, take a look.”
I showed him the vid playing on my arm. He was outraged.
“How did you get into this feed? Natasha, I’ve warned you countless times against this sort of thing. Do you realize how many times you’ve been passed up for promotion? You should be working at Central as a primus or something by now.”
“I… I know, sir,” she said, hanging her head low.
“Aw now, don’t go busting her, Primus Graves,” I said. “I got her to do it, and it was for a good cause. Just watch Winslade hovering over him.”
After initially pulling back, Winslade was playing the role of a fly on a turd once again. He was buzzing around Armel and asking stupid questions.
Graves frowned at that. “You’re saying that if this sequence fails, the Skay sentries will attack?”
“Worse. Dominus will be marked for destruction throughout the province.”
Graves gritted his teeth and watched. He squinted his eyes, too. He looked like he was having a bad day in the dentist’s chair.
“All right,” he said at last as he watched Winslade tapping on Armel’s shoulder. “But you’ll never make it all the way up to Gold Deck fast enough. Here, take this teleport harness.”
Surprised, we took it, set it for the bridge, and I put it on Natasha’s back.
“Me, James?” she squeaked.
“You’re right. It’s a short hop, I’ll tag along.”
I grabbed her up in my arms, hunching over her tightly, and activated the harness.
-30-
“McGill? What do you think you’re doing on my bridge?” Winslade demanded when we appeared not ten meters off.
“Graves sent us, sir,” I said quickly. “Natasha here can help.”
“What nonsense! Get back to your post at the outer hull.”
“With a bit of luck, sir,” I said, “we won’t need to prepare for any kind of boarding attempts.” I stepped up to him and put a hand to my face. My voice was a loud whisper. “We both know Armel might screw this up. Let Natasha double-check his homework as he goes.”
“She knows the codes? How?”
I showed him the stream playing on my arm. “We were watching, see, and she figured it out.”
Winslade’s neck twisted around like he was a barn owl or something. “That’s a hacking violation, Specialist Elkin.”
Natasha studied the deck. She didn’t even bother to deny it. That was a good move on her part, as she wasn’t any good at these kinds of shenanigans.
“Look, Tribune,” I said to Winslade. “Who do you trust more? Natasha or Armel?”
“Natasha, obviously.”
“Right, and even if she doesn’t really help much, she might learn the code… for next time.”
That comment did the trick. Winslade’s nose twitched a little. He was on track at last.
“All right… Specialist Elkin, aid Armel. Don’t let him make any mistakes.”
“I need no help, fools!” Armel complained. “I need you to stand back and let me work. There is a timing element involved. Each response must be returned within fifteen seconds.”
Natasha had her orders. She sidled up to Armel and watched him work. Unlike the repulsive Winslade, she found it easy to do this unobtrusively. Armel never complained as she discretely hovered near.
I took a long step backward and gestured for Winslade to do the same. He hesitated, then followed my lead. I breathed a sigh of relief. With Armel and Natasha on the case, they’d either do it—or it was undoable.
Two more long minutes passed. That counted for eight more transmissions and responses. At last, however, Armel stood up and threw his arms high. “C’est fini!”
I unlimbered my big arms and clapped a few for him.
Winslade stopped me irritably. “What now, Armel?”
He shrugged. “Now, you fly as you wish in this province. Do not behave trepidatiously, act as if you belong here. That is my best advice.”
Winslade tapped a skinny finger over his lips. “Hmm… Very well. Helm? Set course for Green World.”
Armel’s gloved hand came up, and he stepped toward us. “Perhaps that would be overly direct. Can you please not give away our intentions so quickly?”
“The last time I checked, the shortest distance between two points is still a straight line.”
“Yes, yes, but if there is another layer of scrutiny, you’ll be giving away our ultimate goal.”
Winslade frowned at him and put his hands on his narrow hips. “Another layer of scrutiny? Did you not just state that we could fly freely in this province from this moment on?”
Armel looked disgusted. “The Skay sentinels are fooled, yes. But there are also enforcer ships here in Province 926. Earth’s fleet performs that service back in our home province, and here, the task is being done by the Saurians.”
“I see… helm! Choose a random course ten degrees off Green World. Every two hours, shift the course again to another random heading, always ten degrees off.”
Armel nodded. “Simplistic, but it will probably be effective. I approve.”
“Good. Now, get off my bridge. All of you.”
Natasha, Armel and I were tossed off the bridge and then Gold Deck entirely. Graves immediately began pelting my tapper with requests for me to report back to the outer hull, but I ignored that for a few minutes.
“So… did you screw us, Armel?”
He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Why would I do such a thing? I’m aboard this ship with you, am I not?”
“Yeah, but you could be planning on a stealth revive someplace else after we’re blown out of the sky.”
Armel laughed. “You’ve been talking to Claver too much. No one wanted to revive me on Earth the last time. Why would I push my luck by rolling the dice yet again?”
After a bit of thought, I decided he was right. He didn’t have a secret army of clones with revival machines stashed someplace. “Uh… okay. Thanks, then. We’ll fly to Green World and take out the trash.”
Natasha was anxious to get back to Graves and our assigned post. While I was talking to Armel, she managed to scuttle off at a trot. I let her go and continued my ambling pace. I didn’t see any reason to hurry back to that airless pocket between hulls.
Armel walked with me alone. We took our time. When we reached an open officer’s lounge, he gestured toward the entrance.
“Would you share a celebratory beverage, perhaps?”
“I would love to, but Graves already wants to kill me as it is.” I tilted my tapper in his direction. It was chock-full of unread, ang
ry messages. They were all in red text, and some of them were blinking.
“I understand. Let me just say something before you go.”
“What’s that?”
His expression was an odd one. He didn’t meet my eye. “McGill, we’ve never been friends. We probably never will be. Let’s assume that to be the case. But, in this single instance, you’ve played the game fairly. That flogging back at Central—I didn’t care for the experience. But it did give your superiors an excuse to allow me to speak. That was your ultimate purpose, was it not?”
“Oh… wow. You figured me out, Armel. I thought I’d pulled a fast-one there.”
He smiled, accepting my bullshit without question. I’ve found that if you can lie while praising people, it’s much more likely to work.
“Yes, well, I do know you rather well. Anyway, as you’ve earned my favor, I would like you to consider something.”
“What’s that?”
“We’ve passed the sentinels. We’ll probably make it all the way to the target world without being attacked. That is what I’ve done for Earth today.”
“Yep. It was a job well done, too.”
“Yes, yes… but McGill… have you considered what this ship will do on the return journey?”
I blinked at him a few times. “Uh… what do you mean?”
“After we’ve attacked Green World—successfully or not—don’t you think that someone might notice?”
“Oh… they might at that.”
“Yes. I see now that the tiny wheels in your head are turning. I will say no more. Good day, McGill.”
With that, he pushed open the door to the officer’s lounge and headed straight for the bar. I watched him do this, but I didn’t really see it.
My eyes were unfocused. I was imagining the near future.
Once we started shooting, the jig would be up. No amount of sending happy-talk coded messages to the Skay sentinels would stop them from converging on us. They were machines, but they weren’t dumb. They would seek and destroy with a vengeance.
All of them.
After having this disturbing premonition, I considered marching back up to Gold Deck to warn Captain Merton and Winslade. But before my feet could take the first step, I experienced a few… after-thoughts.
I’d just gotten a big win with the brass today. Primus Graves still didn’t like me, but Winslade and the others probably thought I was a hero. That would all be unraveled if I brought them a big sack of unhappy thoughts too soon.
Sure, everyone knew that you weren’t supposed to shoot the messenger who brought you bad news. It wasn’t the fireman’s fault if your house burned down, after all.
But that’s not how people really operated. They did tend to shoot messengers who brought them news they didn’t like. In fact, people did that all the time.
Shrugging, I decided to keep the info under my helmet for now. They’d probably figure out the danger themselves and come up with some kind of plan to escape Province 926 after this attack. They must have an exit-plan, right?
Putting these irritating thoughts out of my mind as best I could, I whistled all the way back to my post at the outer hull. Graves scolded me when I finally arrived, and he put my unit as far from the entrance as possible. We were pretty much guarding the big ship’s nosecone from the inside.
That’s when I decided to make the best out of an unpleasant situation. Finding a good spot to loaf, I placed myself behind a massive strut and tried to get some shuteye—but I found that hard to do.
I kept thinking about what Armel had said about scads of mini-Skay sentinel ships converging on Dominus all at once. I saw it play out in my mind’s eye, and it still wasn’t a pretty sight.
-31-
After we crossed the demilitarized zone and entered Province 926 proper, everyone seemed to be holding their breath. My unit stayed on station for thirteen straight hours, and let me tell you, that was no picnic.
Our suits were built for long term survival in space. You could piss your pants, and it would filter down around your toes in these tubes and things. An hour later, you drink it right back. That was pretty cool if you were stuck in hard vacuum, waiting for rescue. But since we were just left at our posts without relief for an absurdly long time, it was annoying and disgusting.
At last, Winslade contacted Graves. I overheard the talk, as I’d gotten Natasha to tap into the command channel by this time. She’d done it at around the fourth hour out of sheer boredom.
“Graves?” Winslade asked. “Are you still standing guard in the ship’s prow?”
“Yes sir. Until relieved, as ordered. The third cohort never—”
“Yes, yes. Excellent. All the others requested relief hours ago. You’re to stand down, Graves. Put your men to bed. Winslade out.”
That was it. Graves had been stoically forcing us to stand at what amounted to the ship’s head-watch—a punishment duty since time immemorial—for no reason other than sheer stubbornness.
We were dismissed, and we left grumbling. Most of the troops headed for the showers and their bunks, but I took a detour in the direction of the mess deck.
The main meal service was shut down, but I managed to scare up some passable fare. About an hour later, my gut was full, and I was feeling good again.
“Ew. You stink, McGill.”
Turning, I saw Carlos come in and sit down. “What kind of an animal thinks of its gut first, instead of cleaning out recycling tanks?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “I dumped it all in the restroom over there before sitting down.”
Carlos wrinkled his potato-shaped nose. “That’s not the same thing. Not at all.”
“What do you care? Are you trying to ask me out on a date or something?”
“No one would date you, Centurion. Not tonight.”
“Wanna bet?”
We talked and ate for about half an hour. At last I grew tired of Carlos, so I said goodnight and stood.
“Heading for the showers?”
“That’s right.”
“Say, um, before you go, sir…”
That line kind of surprised me. Carlos hadn’t called me sir all night. That would normally be unacceptable, but as we were alone right now, I didn’t care. After all, we’d been together since we’d joined the legion on the same day decades ago.
“What is it, Specialist?”
“I’ve heard… rumors. Some people say this rocket-ride is one-way. It’s a suicide mission.”
I stared at him for a moment. “Who says that?”
He shrugged. “People. Anyway, is it true?”
I thought for a full second about what Armel had said. That getting in was going to be easy, but once we started shooting, well… getting back out again wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
Grinning at Carlos, I gave him a laugh. “That’s nonsense. Those robots out there are scary, but they’re dumb machines. Armel switched them off on the way in, and he’ll do it again on the way out. There might be some ships full of lizards chasing us, sure. But they’ll never catch Dominus. Earth’s warp drives are better than the trash they fly around out here.”
Carlos gave me a flickering smile. “Thanks for the update, sir.”
He stood and left. I knew he didn’t believe me. I’d given him an excellent lie, too. Sure, he’d known me for years and all, but it was still galling to be disbelieved so easily.
Worse, I didn’t think Carlos had come up with this rumor on his own. Who had he been talking to?
Frowning, I worked my tapper. There were new “features” on our tappers these days. You could look into the comms history of anyone who was directly under your command.
Now, that was ripe for all kinds of abuse, but I’d never cared enough to use it that way. Even today, swiping through Carlos’ connection records, I didn’t give a rip about what girls he stalked on the grid. I was looking for names—the names of tech specialists.
Unsurprisingly, there was only one name on the list that fit the b
ill: Kivi.
“Hmm…” I said, studying the pattern of communications. She was sending him direct-messages, every hour or so, even back while we sat on our cans inside the hull. That wouldn’t have been suspicious, except for the fact that Kivi was in the same unit as Carlos—my unit. If she’d wanted to talk to him, couldn’t she have just sat beside him and flirted to her heart’s content?
I thought about opening the texts and reading them, but my big fat finger hesitated. I just didn’t want to see a dick-pic today. Not even one.
Accordingly, I got up and headed down to find Kivi.
Coincidentally, she was just hitting the showers herself—with Sargon in tow. I got the feeling they’d been intimate, then decided to wash up. That was extreme, even for me, but I wasn’t in a judging mood.
“Specialist?” I said, climbing out of my filthy suit and getting into some hot water. Carlos had been right about that part—after a long day, a shower always felt even better than you thought it was going to.
Sargon raised an eyebrow at me. “Is this official business, Centurion, or…?”
He didn’t want anyone horning in on his girl, and I didn’t blame him. “Yes, it really is.”
“All right then. I’ll see you later, Kivi.” He slapped her on her ample butt and left.
She didn’t meet my eye. Instead, she started washing herself in slow-motion. Apparently, her breasts were going to be sparkling when she stepped out of here.
Now, I’m every kind of a fool when it comes to womanly wiles, but even I have my limits. I knew she was distracting me. She was doing a good job of it, too.
“Stop that,” I told her.
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“What I don’t like is tech specialists who tap into feeds and listen into command chat.”
She blew a raspberry at me. “As if. Your little doormat Natasha does that trick for you whenever you snap your fingers.”
“She’s my specialist, she works for me. That’s different, I need intel from above.”
“So do I.”
Kivi looked unrepentant. I was annoyed, but it was kind of hard to blame her. The brass treated us like sardines in a can, and they told us very little about what was really going on.