Voyage
Page 15
“So what if the university won’t let us in?” Mark was asking Rob, who was tucking into his dinner with gusto.
“Well,” said Rob, waving his fork around, “obviously, since I know where we will land on Earth, I’ll leave some instructions there to tell us how to get in.”
“Ah, OK.” Mark thought for a moment. “Then because you know where we landed on Ragnarok IV, wouldn’t you have left the instructions there?” Then he started to panic. “Shouldn’t we have looked there? Why didn’t you look there?”
The colour drained from Rob’s face. “Because you only suggested that now, here, on the ship!”
I laughed. “There was nothing there, no easy-to-find notes or anything. Remember?”
“In fact,” pointed out Mark, “why didn’t you just turn up yourself and meet us? Y’know, using your time machine that you’re gonna build?”
“Well… Uh…”
I came to his rescue. “Y’know, meeting your future self, paradox, rift in space-time continuum, breaking causality, blah blah.”
“Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Clarke,” said Rob, looking relieved.
I chuckled. “Anytime,” I said to him with a grin. “Anyway, guys, so how was the first shift?”
“It was amazing!” exclaimed Anna, before she related to me how cool it was to watch the pilot take off from a planet. I was a little envious. It was probably more fun than being shot to pieces in virtual jungles or being told you were crap by mercenaries.
“So what did you do?” asked Mark.
‘Oh, yeah, I’ve not told them where I’m working yet.’
“I ran around a bit, then I assembled and disassembled a gun several hundred times whilst being told I was crap at that menial and pointless task.”
Mark looked confused.
“What job are you doing?” asked Anna.
Rob’s mood had changed. He was frowning, and as he hadn’t asked me any questions and resembled someone sucking a lemon, I surmised that he’d asked the CTO where I was assigned.
“I’m a mercenary.”
Rob’s face brought to mind a dark stormcloud. Anna looked from me to Rob, anxious to know if I was joking. Mark’s mouth was open and Jane just shook her head. I had the sudden urge to laugh, but just about quelled it.
“Why, Clarke? Why?” Rob sounded despairing.
‘Ah, I don’t have a cover story for this one. I can’t tell them the bargain I made with the captain without revealing I am a vampire. But if I tell them the captain made me do this they’ll want to know why. And I can just see Anna going to beg him for my reassignment. That will be awkward.’
“It sounded like fun,” I said with a shrug.
Now Anna’s mouth was open with shock; she was staring at me as if I’d shown her my fangs.
‘OK, so I probably ought to have come up with something better than that.’
“You do know you’ll have to kill people and you could be killed yourself?” said Rob in a strangled voice.
‘Oh, yes, Rob, I know, it’s not something I’d pick if I had the choice.’
For a moment I felt like coming clean and telling them everything: the vampirism, the bargain, how crap I was at soldiering, everything. I would probably get killed in the first firefight I encountered and if I didn’t I would have to kill.
I paused and considered this.
‘I can’t tell them. For starters they’ll never believe me.’
I sighed and shook my head.
‘Damn, what should I say?’
“Yes, I know, it was in the job description,” I remarked drily.
“But… but why did you choose that job, Clarke?” asked Anna. She looked disturbed.
‘I didn’t choose it, I didn’t choose it, I didn’t choose it!’
“They didn’t need any more engineers.”
I didn’t think Anna’s eyes could go any wider. I was wrong.
‘Damn. I hate lying to my friends.’
I really couldn’t think of a good cover story, since it was not something I would normally choose to do.
“I’m sure Clarke has her reasons,” said Jane, coming to my aid. I shot her a grateful look. She raised her eyebrows at me then continued: “I have no doubt they’re dumb reasons, but reasons nonetheless.”
‘Thanks, Jane.’
“I was just kinda scared, y’know?” I said. “What happens if we get boarded by pirates? I’d want to be able to defend myself. So… I thought I’d give it a go.”
‘Not good. That sounded like a half-baked reason. I won’t get away with that, since they know I’m very logical–’
“And that sounds like just the sort of dumb reasoning you like,” commented Jane.
‘Thanks, bitch.’
The others nodded. I blew the air out of my mouth in annoyance.
‘Dammit. This has not been a good day for me. First, I’m told how crap I am by Connor, then I find out that my friends think my reasoning sucks. And, worst of all, I can’t go for Jane’s throat about it without the rest of them asking questions I can’t answer.’
“So… what do mercenaries do when they’re not shooting things?” asked Anna.
‘Ah, that’s nice, she’s taking an interest. Of course, I don’t really know. Same thing as normal soldiers, I guess.’
“Play pool. Drink beer. Play war games.” And wouldn’t you know it, my guess turned out to be right.
“Oh.” She nodded. I guess my description didn’t sound too bad. “It sounds OK then, so long as we’re not under attack, I suppose.”
Wow, That’s a Lot of Stakes
I woke up after only half a night’s sleep, feeling refreshed and wide awake. I opened the blinds and sat on my sofa drinking coffee and looking at the stars. Even if I wasn’t a good mercenary, I had an amazing view. I decided to get some practice in: I really didn’t want another disastrous day.
This time, I skipped the troop combat sims and loaded up a Japanese sword-fighting one. I had to learn a kata, a set of attacks and blocks. I stood at the start with the sword controller in my hand and followed the steps: step forward, thrust sword out, turn right, slice down diagonally, that sort of thing. It reminded me of learning steps to dance routines.
I found it relaxing to go through the kata over and over. I didn’t think about anything at all. I just went through the moves, sometimes as fast as I could do them, sometimes as slow as I could manage. It felt great to completely concentrate on my body, to feel it respond fluidly. It was far better than trying to crouch through virtual jungles. I enjoyed it so much that I spent several hours only doing the simple white-belt kata. I didn’t even try the other ones. I’m like that when I want to learn something. I put in loads of effort to get it perfect.
And because I was really into what I was doing, I was late for my second day too.
“Clarke! You’re late! Forty push-ups,” yelled the major when I jogged in. I stared at him in disbelief.
‘Nope, the major-guy’s serious. Honestly. Since when do mercs have to follow orders? Still, I suppose if no one does then it will be carnage if we get attacked–that is, carnage on the wrong side.’
I managed not to answer back, though it was a struggle.
Whilst I did the push-ups, he explained the exercise for that day. Oddly enough, we were doing sword-fighting.
‘Seriously, what’s wrong with guns?’
“Now, I’m sure you’re all aware of this”–I looked at the major whilst I was doing the thirty-fifth push-up; he looked amused–“but I’ll explain it again for the new recruit.”
‘Helpful.’
“Firing weapons near the outer hull is bad. Chopping up boarders with swords is good.”
‘Ah… I see, making a hole to vacuum would be fatal. Unless the hull is made of strong material that won’t let a bullet pass through. But then they might bounce off it. You don’t need a degree in physics to realise that in a confined space, that’s a bad idea.’
I finished my push-ups and followed the mercen
aries to the weapons locker. I was highly interested in what might be inside.
‘What sort of amazing future tech will they have? Fancy lasers? Phonon rays? Travelling pressure waves could make a good weapon. Maybe they have guns that fire antimatter-matter particle pairs? Oooo, they’d combine then explode outwards in a mass of energy. Or a gun that just fires antimatter into matter, a human being for example, that would cause energy discharge and probably the death of whoever it hits. Neat. Or maybe small black holes that evaporate after they’ve punched a hole, maybe? Cool.’
They opened the weapons locker. My jaw dropped.
“Wood?” I yelled. “Are those polearms? And swords? And what the hell are those pointy sticks?”
The weapons locker looked like a medievalist’s private collection. There were a few fancy-looking guns and futuristic weapons, but I was disturbed by the spears, the crossbows, the shiny, shiny swords.
‘Why would anyone need a crossbow or a polearm on a spaceship? Does anyone see any bears or knights around here? This is the twenty-third century, surely they must have better weapons than sharp pointy sticks?’
“Nothing wrong with wood, lass,” said one of mercs.
“It’s Clarke, not ‘lass’,” I muttered.
“Hey, yer not a vampire, are yer?” mused another one, before grabbing my wrist.
‘Oh, shit, I’ve given myself away over something so stupid!’
“Nah, this bird’s got a beat,” he continued. I pulled my wrist free.
‘So vampires don’t have a pulse then? And the mercs expect them to not like wood… interesting.’
“Cut it out, freak boy!” I growled at the guy who had grabbed my wrist.
“Oooo, tetchy,” he replied, raising his eyebrows.
‘I think I’m starting to fit in here.’
“All right, guys, stop yapping,” said the major. “And everyone grab a training sword.” A training sword was, literally, a pointy stick with a scabbard. Admittedly the point was blunted. I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.
One was thrust into my hand.
‘Great. Now’s the point that I realise I have no idea what wood will do to me. They’re called training swords. They are supposed to be safe, right? Are they safe for vampires?’
I was surrounded by twenty hefty guys with large stakes and the major knew what I was.
‘This does not look good.’
“Let’s try a little one-on-one,” said the major. He picked out two guys to fight each other whilst we all stood around in a circle to watch. The major shouted things like, ‘watch your guard’, ‘guard your flank’, and ‘footwork’.
‘Heh, that last one reminds me of dance lessons. The teacher was always yelling ’footwork’ at us.’
The pounding of their feet on the ground made a nice, syncopated rhythm. The smell of the combatants was earthy and pleasant, at least to me. They finished; it was over when one of them landed five hits on the other.
“Connor, you’re up next,” said the major.
“I wanna fight her,” he said, pointing at me. I frowned at him.
‘Great. My guess is that he wants to show me just how crap I am. Second day, arsehole.’
“Go on then, Clarke.” I looked at the major. He seemed amused at something, but nonthreatening. Generally, he seemed quite nice, but what if this was all a plot? He knew I was a vampire and he was dumping me in the middle of a mob with stakes.
‘Oh, I do not like this at all.’
None of the mercenaries smelt particularly agitated. I didn’t think they would be able to hide it if they were planning an assassination attempt, but I thought that the major could, and all he had to do was give the order.
‘Would the mercs hesitate? How well trained are they?’
Connor misunderstood my hesitation.
“You should just give it up, love, get yourself a nice desk job,” he whispered to me. “The bridge needs button-pushers. Or if you want to meet soldiers, you could serve us up our lunch.” I glared at him. Connor chuckled.
‘Ah, so he’s trying to wind me up then? Well… it’s working.’
I walked into the centre of the ring, and stood in the starting position for the kata I’d done all morning. In fact, I naturally fell into that position, because of all that practice.
Connor looked at all the mercenaries; some were grinning. The major gestured that he should get on with it. He smirked at me then lunged forwards, the sword aiming at me, but for some reason he seemed to be moving very slowly.
‘Is he taking the piss? Does he think I’m that bad I’ll just throw my hands up, drop my sword and scream?’
My body moved fluidly into the first move of the kata. I avoided his attack easily and thrust my sword against his solar plexus. He fell back, winded. I waited patiently for him to get up, spit, swear and glare at me. Then he slowly attacked me again. This time, I did the second move of the kata: I turned to the right and diagonally struck his shoulder as he stabbed his sword at where I had been.
‘This is easy. Why’s he moving so slowly?’
My sword strike had added to his forward momentum and he fell forward, sprawled on the floor, and his sword clattered out of his hand. Again, I waited for him to get up. I wanted to ask him why he was going so slowly, but the others were mumbling in appreciative tones. I even heard a, “The girl’s not half bad,” and the major chuckled.
‘Hmmm, what if vampires do have faster than usual speed? That would explain it. Maybe Connor is doing his best and is moving at normal speed. Intriguing.’
Connor got to his feet and hefted his sword and looked at me in confusion. I took a step forwards and went into the third move of the kata, a blow to the head. I moved it slightly to crash the sword onto his right shoulder instead. He gasped and dropped his sword. I went into the fourth move, a turn to the left and low sweeping blow to take someone’s legs out from under them. It worked and Connor fell over.
He picked himself up from the floor, swore and spat again. I only needed one more hit, and he hadn’t yet landed one on me.
‘Neat.’
I grinned at him.
“I’ll get you this time, lass.” He spat on the floor again and rolled the shoulder I’d hit.
‘Is ’lass’ better than ‘love’?’
He rushed at me. I still had my sword low from the fourth stance move so I went into the fifth move of the kata sequence, which was defensive. I moved backwards, sliding myself just out of range of Connor’s sword, and swept my sword diagonally upwards across my body. His sword came a little close and I felt a momentary panic, but I knocked his sword away from me and sent him into an ungainly spin. He managed to keep his balance, just. Then he dropped his sword and came over to shake my hand.
“OK, you’re not too bad after all, lass.”
I supposed it was a good enough apology, so I grinned and shook his hand.
After the training, the major had a quiet word with me whilst we cleared up the weapons: “Nicely done, Clarke. Come and see me in my quarters at around two, please.” I nodded mutely and he went off to give more orders.
Since our meeting was scheduled for several hours after the end of shift, I headed off with the mercenaries. As I had shown a bit of skill with a sword, I was now one of the ‘guys’–there were no other women who were foolish enough to do this job. There were about twenty mercenaries in all: fifteen humans, five orcs. Adding in the major and Connor, just under a quarter of the ship’s crew were given over to defence.
The mercs had their own bar/recreation room and it seemed that the captain didn’t waste any of his catering staff on it. Instead we had vending machines, pool tables, a juke box–that was playing country music–miscellaneous slightly busted training weapons, stained linoleum, low, ugly tables, mismatched slightly-ripped couches and bins overflowing with food wrappers and beer cans. I liked it. It reminded me of the student union’s basement, where the postgrads hung out eating pizza that was best classified as experimental.
‘Oh, well.’
As I was reading the label, Connor walked up. “So… you’re not useless then.”
‘’Useless’? Huh!’
“Apparently not,” I said drily. Some of the other mercenaries had gathered round.
“I lost two thou on you,” piped up one–Cliff, a scrawny twenty-year-old who looked about seventeen and had probably run away from home to seek adventure and, I guessed, was loving the fact that he was no longer the rookie. He was in my s . “I bet you wouldn’t come back for a second day.”
‘Heh. Not a bad bet really, I would have bet against me too.’
“So…” I smiled flirtatiously. “Which one of you lovely men bet on me?”
One of them jerked a thumb at one of the five orcs in the company. “Bron did.”
On hearing his name the orc turned round. He was, like most orcs, tall, broad-shouldered and well-muscled with green skin. His eyes were purple, his nose a little on the wide side–for an orc, of course–his mouth a little on the thin side and he had a pointier chin than the other two I’d met.
“Bron, is it?” I asked.
“Uh…” He was looking around for someone to bail him out. “Bronwich, it is. I mean, that’s my name, Bronwich. But they call me Bron, Kotar… I mean, sir, uh, ma’am-sir.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You don’t have to be that polite, Bron,” said a soldier from my s known as Petey. He looked like a card sharp missing the suit and hat. “She’s just a broad, she’s not in authority or anything.”
I ignored the card sharp. “Well, I appreciate you having faith in me, Bron.”
Bron looked more than a little perturbed. “Glad you think so, ma’am-sir.”
‘Maybe orcs are just polite.’