by Robert Culp
Without speaking, he looks at me for a period of five heartbeats. “Lords of Hell, woman, you sound like my fifth wife. You’ve said nothing I don’t already know. She wasn’t expected to start puberty so soon. I will deal with her. With tenderness and understanding, I promise,” he adds. I must look distressed. “Go about your other duties. Also, get some Strike Armor and FGMP training soon. I fear we may need it if my visions are realized.”
“Is that what it is? Puberty? Hormones raging, skeletal geometry changing, and all that stuff? I didn’t see that coming. Please understand me. Like her, I’m new to this. I know you are busy, but I would be very grateful if you would ‘deal with her’ sooner, rather than later. Thank you for your time and indulgence. I will do as you ask.”
“Are you still here? Begone!” he roars.
Now I know who taught Aria sarcasm. I hope it counts that I curtsy on my way out.
There’s a message in my perCom from Avi: Hey, dearest. Are you okay? I am in the lounge if you want to do some shots
I return the message. Hey, sweetie, I’m on my way. I’m not sure I’ll be good company, but I’m on my way. It’s something to look forward to anyway. The Old Man said “Strike Armor and Fusion Gun Man Portable training”. I think I know an excellent teacher. He answers on the third trill of his perCom. “Hey,” I say. “How’s my favorite heavy-weight fudge packer? I need to get familiar with Strike Armor and FGMPs. Who do I talk to?”
Freddie doesn’t miss a beat: “Hey, Squats. Talk to Jonesy. He’s covering for me while I mend. I think Pedersen has given that up, but I’m not sure. And I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you did in the attack. I appreciate it. I’d teach you myself, but the wing hasn’t quite finished healing yet.”
We trade barbs about each other’s habits. I’m happy to know he’s recovering. The arm was reattached and he’s learning to use it again. Seems all the nerves had to grow new paths. That couldn’t have been pleasant.
When I get to the lounge, I find Avi at the bar, so I plop onto a stool beside him. After a quick kiss, I ask Rachel for a shot of the house Scotian. She pours it and before she can pull away, I put my hand on hers. “Can you leave that for me? I would appreciate it. And bring some glasses fitting for a Highlander when you get back this way?” She winks and moves on to tend other customers. I relay the past handful of hours to Avi and thank him for letting me unload on him. “Reminds me, I need to talk with Doc and get some parenting advice. Oh, damn. Does that weird you out too much? I promise I wasn’t trying to that time.”
Avi pours another two fingers into each of our glasses. “Oh, give me some credit. I like to think there’s a bit more to me than that. It doesn’t weird me out. But if I were you, I’d get out of that whole mess while the getting is good. I remember from school that women have bio-clocks and maternal instincts, so I understand your attraction. But you’ve missed most of what women brag about: pregnancy and the early years. And there is also your career to consider.”
I raise my glass in a toast. “Thanks. Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me? It isn’t necessary, you know.” After a sip, I swirl my drink in my glass. “In my head, I follow the logic. But in my heart, I’m already too invested in her to just walk away. I can’t explain it, so I don’t expect you to understand. The Captain says she is telepathically attaching herself to me. ‘Imprinting’ was the word he used.”
“Sorry. How about letting me brush your hair and massage your calves?”
Isis, he sounds like Johan now! “Can we crawl into bed and just cuddle? We’ll worry about where that leads later. I’m a little mixed up, just hold me for now.” I lean into him. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we drink silently for several minutes. “Let’s give what’s left of the bottle back, and we’ll go to my place. Unless you’d rather we go to yours?” He shakes his head no. So we go to mine.
In the morning, I check in with Ginny and Gorb before going to the LEO. They are working like bees in a hive. Engineering is running like a precision wristwatch. Ginny winks to tell me “I got this.”
“Hi, Shownya!” Gorb says. “Ginny is being nice to me, and Gorb is helping all day!!” What more can a department head ask?
“I’ll be in the LEO,” I tell them. “Call me if you need me.”
I spend a few hours going over damage reports, maintenance requests, etc, and spend a few more hours assigning chores. Once everything is in place for the day, I call Jones. “I need to get trained on Strike Armor and FGMP. Is Pedersen the Point of Contact for that or someone else?”
“Hi, Chief. Nope, it’s me. I’m running some guys through tomorrow at noon. Just be at SIM Room 2 by ’lebm hunderd to get into a suit and rig up a SIM weapon.”
“Thanks, I’ll be there.”
I also call the Doc. “Do you provide emotional counseling? I think I need some.”
“Of course I do, sweetheart. You know my door is almost always open.”
I walk to Medbay. The Doc ushers me into her office. I wave at Avi and he smiles and waves back. After she closes the door, she stabs two buttons on her desk panel. She pulls two glasses out of a drawer and a bottle from a freezer. “I find a little attitude juice helps in counseling.” She pours each of us a measure and hands one of the glasses to me. “Now, the doctor is in; the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign is lit; the vodka is poured. What’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s like this: I now feel guilty for all the hell I put my parents through.”
“Most new parents do. Nothing unusual there. Please continue.”
“Ever since Gwen opened her eyes and called me by name, it’s like she pulled a piece of my heart out, and I’m not complete without her.”
“Is it true you never stop worrying about them?” I ask Doc. “Your children, I mean? I don’t think I’m cut out for this ‘motherhood’ thing.”
“It’s absolutely true. Take Avi. He’s an adult who makes his own decisions, and yet when he comes to me with problems—and he does—I still want to rock him and say ‘Mama will fix it.’ So no, you never outgrow that.”
“Has he come to you about me? I mean about ‘us?’”
“Of course he has. We had a conversation very similar to the one you and I are having now.”
“You won’t tell me what was said though, will you?”
“I’d be happy to.” She sips her vodka. “Right after you tell me all of the parent-child conversations you’ve had with Gwen.”
“Touché.” There’s no way I’d do that. “It was an inappropriate question.” I set the glass down. “So, how horrible a mother am I?”
She smiles broadly at me. “It’s always been my opinion that if you are worried about your parenting, you’re probably doing it right. And from what I’ve seen, you’re a very good mother. You might want to consider doing it the hard way someday.”
“I’m doing the best I can. The best I know how.”
“That’s what I said. And it’s all that can be expected of you. On a sadder note, I performed Mikkelson’s autopsy. His brain literally short-circuited. I don’t know exactly how, and I can’t prove it, but I believe as sure as I’m in this chair that Gwen caused it. Of course I have to report any dangers of that nature up the chain, hence Gwen’s detention. If it helps any, I bear a part of the guilt as well. I am hoping for a peaceful resolution that keeps everyone involved happy.” She freshens up our drinks and continues, “On another note, you don’t have to kill yourself keeping the Captain happy. He has his own agenda, and, believe it or not, with people who want to learn, he is very patient. Of course, people who don’t want to learn aren’t around very long.” He’s certainly put up with more from me than I would have expected.
We talk for quite a while. I learn a fair amount about her and Avi; she learns as much about me. I decide to leave while my legs work well enough to get me to my stateroom. I call Sherri, “Hey girl-friendly. I’m sure you’re curious about what happened in the chow hall last night. Drop by, and I’ll fill
in the blanks for you. How’s Gwen doing? Can I see her?”
“I wish I could, Chief, but I have a drill to run tomorrow. I gotta get up at 04. If it was up to me, you’d be with Gwen right now. But that’s Aria’s department. I’ll see what I can do, though.”
I have my answer soon, directly from Aria: “You may not see Gwen. She has been placed in a shielded cell for observation. She is healthy, comfortable, and playing with her paint program. I will inform you when you may visit her. Busy yourself with work, Sonia. Let the command group worry about Gwen for a while.”
“I’ll do what I can. Is the disk we brought aboard off limits? I’d like to have it moved to a workshop where I can start trying to learn more about it.”
“That will not be possible either. The disk has been moved to a containment area in the cargo bay, that is normally for reactive materials such as Uronium or Bacthium. It is strictly guarded, per the Captain’s orders. The Captain and I alone have authority to open the field to view or touch it.”
For the next two weeks, I am in Simulator Room two for two hours per day, learning how to use Strike Armor. I can’t say if it’s overt subversion or just me being passive-aggressive (or thick headed and stubborn), but I wear my prototype. It gets a few stares and comments. I also find out first hand where to make improvements. Fortunately, once I get the hang of it, I develop a certain level of mastery. It’s not a vehicle, so it isn’t driven. It’s more like a suit of clothes; it’s just worn. We take turns laughing at each other as we practice for our graduation exercise: moving one dozen raw eggs from one bowl to another. I get to where I only break two. The standard is four, so I graduate.
When Night Searcher arrives at BaineRa’ah IV, the maneuver drives hum to life. We’re one hour from orbit. I’m in the LEO when the bridge calls me: “Chief MacTaggert, Zack Bordeaux, lead navigator. Can you prepare the power plant to charge a set of batteries for an advanced base? A group is going on a long camp-out to find contacts here. The sensors won’t read anything on the planet. The atmosphere is blocking us.” The batteries for the advanced bases draw a prodigious amount of energy from the power plant. It’s not a problem as long as it isn’t a surprise.
“We’ll get on it, Zack. How much time do I have?” We’re interrupted by a textCom. Aria has called a staff meeting in the conference room at 2100. I’m to be prepared to brief the charge status of a set of advanced base batteries. Checking my desk clock, I see it is currently 1930. I wish they wouldn’t wait until “critical” to call me. But coal never became a diamond without heat and pressure. I confirm with Zack, then call Ginny and tell her to reconfigure power plant production to allow for the battery charging.
In my copious free time, I keep myself busy and occupied by re-creating PeteArmor, or at least making Strike Armor a little more “Trooper friendly.” I’ve been able to modify one of the Strike Armor suits with some PeteArmor functions. The prototype is hanging in the locker. I trust it. And this one finally has the cooling and plumbing issues completed.
The only ones at the meeting are Aria, the Captain, Damien, (the lead bridge officer), and I. We go around the table, briefing our departments, until we get to the Captain. “Chief MacTaggert, you will put a team together. You may take whomever you want, except Aria. Head down to the planet, and make contact with someone. If you determine it to be necessary, you are authorized to bring them to Night Searcher on your return. We need to know where in the Nine Hells we are. Take a full complement of weapons, food, etc. The 100 ton cutter is available, so don’t skimp or feel the need to travel light. What are your questions?”
I think for a minute and tick them off on my fingers, “I know I want Landers to do the flying. I want Watson and Jones as shooters, unless Sgt. Call is available. Dr. Took for medical support. I’m going to need someone for combat engineering in case I have to blow something up. Someone who excels at Recon, if Sherri or Jones isn’t the best. A Long Range Communications operator will be helpful. If we have an archaeologist or anthropologist aboard, that would be great. Off the top of my head, I’ll want to set up someplace away from any people. Then gently, but deliberately, make contact with them. We’ll all take formal—as well as casual—wear, in case we need it. What sort of time frame do I have to operate in? I’m told we don’t know anything about this place. Are the sensors not penetrating the atmosphere, or is something blocking or jamming them? And, if I can really have anybody I want, then I want Gwen.” I do my best to keep a steady gaze. Every pair of eyes in the room is riveted on me.
The room is silent.
“All granted,” he says, “except Gwendolyn. There is one person that can handle her if she gets out of control, and that is I. And it isn’t child’s play for me. Work the rest out with Aria. I will expect your report within ten days. Aria will give you what limited information we have.” He leaves.
I call Ginny. “Mind the shop—I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” I tell Ginny the time frame and put her in operational control, with Gorb as the resident subject matter expert. For HR purposes, I send the personnel officer a text message detailing that, copying Ginny.
Aria has been making notes. She spins her pad around for me to read and says, “These are your assets.”
Personnel:
Sonia MacTaggert: Team Leader, Engineer, Shooter
Shawna Landers: Pilot, Navigator, Medic
Sherri Watson: Shooter, Backup Pilot, Communications
Marlon Jones: Shooter, Explosives
Dr. Avinoam Took: Medical, Long Range Communications
Doyle Reeber: Scientist’s Apprentice, Shooter
Materiel:
The 100-ton cutter has been configured with:
Two 30-ton cargo modules
2 single barrel, fusion turrets.
2 MED Kits
1 LR Communication system
4 survival packs
90 field rations
90 gallons fresh water
10 APE suits
5 suits Strike Armor
1 flame cannon
5 shotguns with a total 400 rounds
1 MAINTBOT
“I have in mind two more shooter/spacers you can take, if you want,” Aria says. “They are not special ops qualified, but competent and extra people to help. If you want them, their names are Loki and Seams. I am sending you the photographs we have made of the planet.” Her fingers dance over her notepad.
“I’ll take them. May I use this room to brief my team?” She agrees. My own notepad signals the arrival of the data. I send messages to the team and direct them to be in the briefing room in one hour. I spend the hour looking over photos, charts, atmospheric data, library data, and the scans the Bridge has run.
When the team is gathered, I bang a coffee mug on the table to get attention. “Let’s get started. Does everyone know everybody?” Some shake their heads, so the team members take turns introducing themselves. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Sonia MacTaggert, Chief Engineer. I’ve been tasked to lead a recon mission of the planet below, and I have selected you to be on my team. Our mission is to find out where in the universe we are. Star charts will be most helpful. This is not an assault. This is not a raid. Ideally, we will neither fire nor be fired upon. We will travel to the planet via hundred-ton cutter and Shawna is doing the flying. If you don’t know—or aren’t comfortable with—each other, don’t worry. That will change as we’re going to be together for at least a week, no more than ten days. This may turn into a First-Contact mission. Shooters, bring your armor and your preferred weapons. I hope we won’t need it, but one never knows. Everybody should bring some formal attire, some workday clothes, and some bumming around clothes. Reeber, please contact the galley and find out if a field kitchen is available. Ten days of cold or moderately warm FieldRats is not appealing. Understand there’s a lot of work to do before we go. Any reason we can’t leave in twelve hours? Any questions of me?” There are none. “It is now H minus 12, PCIs in the small craft bay at H minus 1. Okay, get hopping.
”
There is a lot of work to do, so they start filing out. I hold Avi back, and when everyone else is gone, I confront him with my no-nonsense face and take his hands in mine. “This isn’t a break-up speech. But it is a ‘things will be cooling down’ speech. While we’re on this mission, I have to be ‘The Boss.’ That isn’t to say I will or will not sneak into your sleeping bag from time to time. But we have to keep our eyes on the mission, not each other. Can we agree, my love? Call me when you get some time; we can share a nap or something.”
“Of course. It will be my pleasure to serve under you. I mean…oh forget it.”
We both grin.
At H minus 1 all team members are present. Shawna is doing her pre-flight checks on the cutter. There’s an air of professionalism and confidence among the team. Shawna has her suit zipped up to cover her ample bosom, so the spacers loading the launch won’t trip over their tongues. Sherri has the shooters on line and is double-checking their basic loads. Everyone gives me a thumbs-up. I can’t explain it. I am way out of my element, but I feel good. For safety purposes, everyone is either in an APE suit or combat armor. All the shooters have questions about my prototype. I promise to answer all of them in good time, but not now. I have the armor stowed. I can’t sit in the cockpit in anything heftier than an APE suit. The spacers and maintenance robots are loading the mobile base unit through the cutter’s rear cargo hatch.
I climb into the seat beside Shawna. “Seems I remember the navigator telling me the ship’s sensors wouldn’t read the planet. That being the case, when we transition to atmospheric flight, I want to be on the night side of the planet to hide our contrails. Wherever we see lights is probably where we’ll find people. We’ll set down in that vicinity. But not too close.”