The 13: Mission's End Book One

by M. M. Perry

  “What’s keeps them from dropping our conformity?” Jeremy asked.

  “Mike said there are just different rules for them. I asked him to tell me about it, but he just changed the subject. Told me he’d tell me after the mission. That it might bother me too much and I needed a level head. I’m thinking about asking Alphea tomorrow if I get a chance to see her before we launch. But, I don’t know. Maybe Mike is right. Maybe if I know, it’ll be like knowing the Tereshkova has gone dark.”

  Jeremy hugged Naomi.

  “Mi, you still okay to do it? Maria and…”

  Naomi touched Jeremy’s arm.

  “Mike, and I think Chef, too. I think they’re my friends. I’ll be ok. You just be here when I get back. Promise?”

  “Yes. I’ll be safe.”

  Naomi waited a beat.

  “Jeremy, if… if the counting doesn’t work, tell Alphea.”

  “It always works, Mi.”

  “This is different than those times. You might be really scared for me. If things get too scary, tell Alphea. Tell her before they get too scary. Tell her if you think they’ll be too scary, okay?”

  “Okay, Mi.”

  Mike sat at the small table in his quarters trying not to let Chef’s pacing put him on edge. He took a sip of his tea and stared at his bed.

  “I hope I’m right about Book,” he said absently, his mind in two places.

  “You can’t be that wrong twice. At least I don’t think you can. Look at it this way, if you are we’re doomed anyway,” Chef began.

  “You aren’t helping, Sissy.”

  “I’m trying. That’s the important part. And, I mean, Book isn’t one to act out. Got toilet duty for six weeks for what he did. That’s a lot of toilets, sir. That’s got to be good for something.”

  “He could have been put up to it,” Mike said, rubbing his thumb along the side of his warm mug.

  “Nah. It was legit. If you’da seen the look in his eyes when I found him. You were wrong about Casings, but you were soft on him on a counta’ growing up with him in the same platoon. Anyway, I never saw it. And I watch for that kind of thing. Don’t beat yourself up so much,” Chef said.

  “You picked Book after a lot of unbiased observation. You have to get over the Casings thing. If you’re actually going to mutiny, or whatever it is we’re doing, even if it’s just hiding all Casings’ shoelaces, for it to work, we need a leader who has confidence in himself. Let Casings be your turning point. From now on, don’t trust men that could pass for stretched out pig nuts that have been ripening in recyc’. Pick chaps like me. And probably Book.”

  “You’re a colorful one tonight.”

  “I can’t help it. Sticking it to the man makes me foulmouthed and giddy. You good?”

  Mike nodded, satisfied. He took another drink of his tea and fell silent, his mind wandering. Chef walked back and forth, fidgety with nerves, despite her speech. She glanced at Mike and noticed he was deep in thought. She moved to stand between him and the bed and waved her hands in front of his eyes.

  “Reliving the moment, sir?”

  Mike was jolted from his thoughts.

  “What? No. What moment? Are we back to this again?”

  Chef grinned.

  “You’re squirmy when you talk about it, did you know that? It’s a helluva tell. You spend too much time training. You need to relax a little more. You wouldn’t make such a big deal about a roll in the hay if you did.”

  “I wouldn’t want it to be like that,” Mike said, trying not to recall the way Naomi subtly fidgeted in his arms afterward, trying to be polite and not dash away, yet still eager to get on with her night.

  “Don’t like being used as physical therapy?”

  “No, it’s not that. She wanted a stress reliever. I was game. It was something else. It was like a ritual for her. Like she was in a trance. You remember Fidget?”

  The image of the squirrely man popped into her head.

  “Yeah. Poor guy,” she said, nodding.

  “When I was still in training,” Mike said. “my commander told me Fidget was an error. It happens, he said. Rarely, but it does. They had to pick more than six hundred years’ worth of genetically diverse people to put on the ship. The program that sequenced the genes was designed to screen out certain mental predispositions. But every now and then a combination that hadn’t been discovered would occur. A bad combination that resulted in what they called an error. He told me he’d once been ordered to take out something called a sociopath. He said Fidget wasn’t that bad off, but it had something to do with compulsion. He’d perform these rituals. Had to, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Chef said, “I remember it got him killed. He had to tap three times on the explosives after setting them. I wasn’t there, but I heard about it. Told his squad he hadn’t tapped it in the right place so he ran back to fix it. Boom. Soldier soup.”

  “I asked him about it once,” Mike said. “He said his brain told him that tapping them kept them from failing.”

  “His brain?”

  “Yeah. He knew it was stupid, but he said his brain wouldn’t let him not do it. If he didn’t do it, it would drive him crazy.”

  “I never understood Fidget. I think I get him even less, now,” Chef said.

  “I think I’m starting to get it. The way Naomi was, it was like Fidget in a way. Not exactly the same. It was different, but the weird ritual nature of it, that was the same. And then after… When I asked her about it, about…” Mike trailed off.

  Chef dropped onto the bed.

  “You mean what you’re planning to tell me an’ Book?”

  Mike nodded again, lost in thought.

  “Boss,” Chef said.

  “Yeah,” he responded absently.

  “She actually wanted to do it, right? It wasn’t like Fidget, where she had to do it?”

  “No. There’s compulsion, but not like that. Not like Fidget. I’ll tell you both everything once Book gets here. But it isn’t compulsion to do that. The comforting is like having a piece of chocolate cake after a bad day. It makes them feel less anxious. The compulsion, it’s about having those feelings. It’s what forces them to remain so calm. It’s why they try so hard to do the unburdening thing. Why they try so hard not to feel anxious. The ritual of it makes them feel better. They’ve taught themselves to feel better by, you know.”

  “I know what?”

  Mike scowled at Chef.

  “Hey,” Chef said grinning, “You’re the commander who’s afraid to say the word screw. The whole thing sounds ridiculous anyway. I don’t know what all this epiphany talk is about. It’s just people screwing, see, I can say it, screwing to feel better. This isn’t some new idea the civvys came up with. Soldiers have been screwing to relieve stress forever.”

  Mike leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

  “I can’t explain it. I know what you’re saying, but this is different. It’s… it’s like it’s been distilled down to its essence, without all the baggage of personal stuff we attach to it. Feelings aren’t confused.”

  “You sure there’s no confusion boss?” Chef asked, a quiet note of concern in her voice.

  Mike waved his hand weakly as if to banish the concern.

  “Don’t worry about her. She’s very confident about how she feels. Knows her mind. Her friend, the pilot. She went right back to him.”

  “I wasn’t worried about her, sir.”

  “You think what exactly? I’m in love? After one night with a woman I just met? I thought you had the measure of me, soldier.”

  “Pretty sure I do, sir,” Chef said under her breath as Mike got up to answer a rap at the door.

  Book walked in and nodded at them both, his hands behind his back.

  “Let’s see ‘em, Book,” Mike said.

  Book sighed heavily and rolled his brown eyes.

  “I can explain,” he said as he raised his hands.

  Mike looked down at the swollen, bruised knuckles. He checked Book’s
face next. Reddish stubble was starting to show clearly in the late evening. Mike didn’t see any marks there.

  “What did he say?”

  Book lowered his hands and shoved them into the pockets of his fatigues.

  “A rather generic insult about the lass we’ll be lookin’ after tomorrow. I won’t repeat it as it was both in poor taste and not particularly original. Sir.”

  “So you hit him?”

  “I did?” he looked at Chef who nodded her assent. “Yes, it seems I did, sir.”

  “Just for insulting the lass, was it?”

  “I did mention it was a dreadfully dull-witted insult, yes?”

  Mike stared at Book, waiting for the real explanation.

  “Look, she didn’t do anything to deserve it. If anyone deserved a shitting on, it was that half-assed idiot, Henry. She paid attention, did what she was told and generally speaking was surprisingly not a pain in the ass. She gets points for that if you ask me.”

  Mike crossed his arms.

  “So she could have deserved some harsh words, theoretically.”

  “Nooo,” Book groaned, “you’re getting my meaning all mixed up. She could have been a pain in the ass all day long and he still shouldn’t have said anything. You’ve made it clear we’re to be civil to these folks. He was out of line.”

  “So you were protecting my honor?”

  “What can I say, sir? You look at me that way and I get this tingly, chivalrous feeling deep inside. Right about here, I’d say,” Book said, patting his gut. “Or, it could be lower,” his hand began to dip.

  Mike glared at him.

  “Yeah, here’s good,” Book said, raising his hand back to his belly with a smirk.

  “I don’t know how I found you people,” Mike said, sitting back down and gesturing for Book and Chef to join him.

  “Tomorrow, we’re going to go over to who knows what on that ship. We’ve never gone into a situation we’ve known so little about before. We’ve certainly never missioned very far past our hull. I think it’s important for us to understand the people we’re protecting a little better. If you know as many variables as you can, you’ll be better equipped to handle any problems that arise. We all know Chief Marcus has it in for Naomi. He’s sent along Henry and it’s my understanding he’s offered various temptations to people on my squad. I can trust you two but I don’t know about the rest. Casings is a lost cause. We can’t let him near her. But the others…”

  He looked to Chef and Book for input. Chef shook her head. Book scratched his chin, the rough sound of his stubble punctuating his movements.

  “Trigger’s been close to Casings for a while,” Book said. “More than, you know, sitting together at mess, close.”

  Mike raised his eyes.

  “Yeah, well, a woman has needs, boss,” Book quipped.

  “He understands that pretty well,” Chef said.

  Mike kicked her boot under the table.

  “In any case. If Casings causes trouble, and we know he will,” Book cracked his swollen knuckles, “I’d bet Trigger’s along for the ride. I could be wrong on that, but,” Book shrugged, “seems a pretty good bet to me. Kitch, well, he’s a bit of a loner. Seems good enough, but when I was having my disagreement with Casings, he stayed out of it. Trigger gave me a pretty good stiff arm to the gut, but Kitch, he just sat there watching.”

  Mike nodded.

  “Then it’s just us. If Kitch isn’t sure where his allegiances lie, then I’m not going to worry about him for the moment. We can expect Casings, Trigger and obviously, Henry to be actively working to harm Naomi.”

  “This political scuffle is way above my paygrade,” Book said, shaking his head. “Why in the hell would they want to jeopardize this mission for any reason? Let’s just say whatever bullshit they’re planning to throw at this civvy engineer doesn’t completely derail the whole plan to fix our engines, and we get that part and haul ass outta there with her spaced, or whatever nefarious plan these evil overlords we work for have for her, don’t we need that part installed?”

  Chef leaned in.

  “She’s not the only engineer on the ship.”

  “Then why are we risking taking her at all? If for some reason Marcus doesn’t like her, let’s just accidentally leave her behind. We can cause some hang up for her.”

  “Alphea wants her there,” Mike answered.

  Book crossed his arms and looked over at Chef. She shrugged at him.

  “We gonna get any more than that, boss?” he asked.

  “If I had more to give you, I would. Alphea says she needs her there. She’s Alphea’s eyes and ears over there. Henry is Marcus’ and anyone else he’s in league with.”

  “Don’t we have eyes and ears, boss?” Chef asked. “Or doesn’t Alphea trust us? Not even you?”

  “She does,” Mike said firmly. “But our eyes, maybe they won’t see the same things Naomi’s will. Now, you two done trying to figure how to scuttle Naomi? Because she’s coming, like it or not.”

  They nodded.

  “Right. So it’s probably best you know a few things about Naomi that won’t be in her file.”

  “I hope one of those things is what makes her so wicked the higher ups have okayed a black ops style takedown of her within our own squad,” Book chimed in.

  “No, it’ll probably be more like the fact that she frightens pretty easy,” Chef said.

  Mike stared at Chef coldly.

  “You expect if Casings had you cornered and threatened you like he did her you’d fare much better?”

  “What’s this now?” Book asked, confused.

  “It’s nothing. Point taken,” Chef said stiffly.

  Mike leaned back, his eyes softening.

  “You’re not entirely wrong though. Civvys don’t have the same types of problems we do.”

  “Their shitters don’t back up on the regular?” Book asked.

  Mike scowled, so Book straightened up, indicating he was taking the commander seriously.

  “The people up there don’t have disagreements. They don’t get mad. They don’t get jealous. They don’t threaten or intimidate. They don’t hurt each other.”

  “Sounds like heaven. And one that Henry and Marcus didn’t get the memo about,” Book said.

  “You gonna tell us how that’s even possible? Book’s right. Surely they’ve got a hundred Marcus’ and Henry’s up there shitting all over their paradise,” Chef said cynically.

  Mike put his hands together on the table, trying to think how best to explain it.

  “Mike and Henry are the exception. The rest, they’re taught this unburdening thing, right? This weird mantra they use. And they do all that,” Mike blushed uncomfortably, “comfort stuff. Constantly popping in and out of the sack with everyone.”

  Book raised his hand and waited for Mike to acknowledge him.

  “Why are we against this again? Chef said something about taking on the system, which I’m all for, for the right reasons. Command has done some truly heinous evil in the past. But they said things were better. They promised. And look, shackin’ up to work out your stress? Come on, man, that’s enlightened.”

  “Yeah, I can’t disagree with that,” Mike said. “And maybe it started out good. But it’s twisted now. The shaggin’s all fine and good for them until they start shagging with someone too many times. Maybe they think they love them. That’s when the problem starts.”

  “Alright, brother,” Book said seriously. “Now you’re trying to make love sound ominous. You’re gonna have to back that up with something. Because you just sound silly.”

  “You’ve read all about war right? You tell me if love ever caused trouble.”

  Book twiddled his fingers, annoyed.

  “This isn’t Troy or ancient Greece. It’s not even the Chinese Orbital Station hostage scenario. It’s nothing like that.”

  “No,” Mike said.

  He picked up Book’s hands and held them knuckles up.

  “But you pummeled
a man for saying something filthy about a woman out of a sense of duty. What would you have done if you loved her?”

  Book stared at Mike before responding.

  “I like you too, Boss, but holding hands? Isn’t that a little fresh? You haven’t even given me your promise ring yet. And,” he said before Mike could interrupt, “okay. I’ll buy it. In a purely, rather twisted, theoretical sense, people shouldn’t fall in love because it might lead to someone riding a hollow horse in here and killing us all. But you know that’s not how shit really works. Most people just have relationships without starting a war. It is possible. I’ve seen it in documentaries. And movies. So many movies.”

  “Agreed,” Mike said. “And as ludicrous as it sounds, prohibiting an entire population from getting emotionally involved because there’s a slim chance a few people might get upset enough to cause an issue, we are talking about Command. The folks who tell us if we fall out of line, there’s an airlock with our name on it. The guys who tell us staying in line requires sneaking upstairs to the civilian population and removing four children because they were trying to start a group to protest their job assignments. Four thirteen-year-olds who we all watched put into an airlock because they wanted to be fitness instructors or botanists instead of whatever life people more than six hundred years ago laid out for them. Is it such a stretch to believe that these people made a law that says no one should fall in love because that could get dangerous?”

  Chef and Book were quiet, each reliving the horror of that memory.

  “They promised after that… They said they’d changed. New Captain. New officers,” Book said solemnly.

  “Yeah,” said Mike. “I don’t know why I ever believed them. It’s clear now they said that to save their skins. They went too far and they knew it. But what they’re doing now… they started a long time ago. Naomi said they taught them these rules when they were children. They were taught all about how everything can be solved with counseling.”

  “Counseling? You can talk somebody out of love with counseling?” Book asked incredulously.

  Mike looked into his near empty mug and sighed.

  “I’ll just tell you what Naomi told me. Anytime they have strong feelings, they’re supposed to get counseling. It’s the rule. They’re told, every hour of every day. It’s drilled into them. They can hardly forget it. It’s like our obedience training, and you both know what that was like. It’s why they’re so careful with their wrist monitors. Counselors are alerted if they redline. If they can’t come up with some believable excuse - they stubbed their toe, they heard about a death. If they can’t come up with a convincing reason they’re having an increased emotional response, they’re sent to counseling.”