by M. R. Forbes
9
"Where are we going?" Millie asked.
She looked better after spending a couple of hours being stitched back together by the Valkyrie's medi-bot, and after inheriting a pair of surplus grays from Sergeant Grimes. The doctor was similar in height and build to the leader of the Riggers, though she had long red hair and a light complexion to Millie's dark and olive. She was as fiery as her mane, cursing up a storm when the Riggers arrived for treatment. Not at them. At the enemy, for leaving them so battered.
Judging by Cormac's face at the barrage, it was love at first sight.
They were headed back to the control room while the rest of the crew got stitched up and fed. Mitchell had ordered Origin to keep the hangar on lockdown to prevent anyone from snooping around.
"I want you to meet someone," he said.
"Who?"
"It's a long story. Now that we have a moment of privacy, I want you to know I'm sorry about your father."
"I know you are, Mitch."
"He was a good man."
"He was better than that. He asked us to do some impossible things, but he believed that I could. He had faith in me when nobody else did."
They were still walking while they spoke. Mitchell glanced over and could see the tear forming in the corner of Millie's eye. No matter how upset she got, he knew she wouldn't show it. Not while there was still so much work to do.
"They sent him on purpose."
"I know. Bastards."
"It means they know who you are. Who the Riggers are."
"They already knew, didn't they? When they showed up at Calypso."
"I'm not sure. They fired on the station first, not us. I don't think they figured it out until we went back to Liberty."
"It doesn't matter either way. They sent my father out to try to stop us. I guess they thought I would hesitate to disobey him. They aren't as smart as they seem to think they are. He would never have wanted me to give up the fight to spare his life. Not if he knew the truth. We need to hold a memorial service for everyone who was lost."
"We will," Mitchell said. "Do you think the crew will do okay, integrating with the UPA military?"
She laughed. "We've been out on our own so long. I wish I could say they will, but I don't know. I think we should expect some friction." She stopped walking, right in front of the lift, turning to him. "I know we have a lot to do. I want you to know... What I said during the battle? I meant it. I love you, Mitch."
Mitchell froze, not sure how to respond. He cared about Millie, sure. Love? That was a bitter pill after Ella.
"You don't have to say it back," Millie said. "That would be stupid, and you'd probably only be saying it because you feel like you should. We're each responsible for our emotions. It's fine with me if you don't. It's fine with me if you want to go back to the Valkyrie and grab Sergeant Grimes for a roll. I'm just saying that I respect you, I appreciate you, and I'm glad we're alive and here together. You always have an ally in me, and I'm going to help you win this frigging war."
Mitchell smiled, and then took Millie in his arms, wrapping her in a firm hug. He kissed her, just for a moment, before letting her go. "I think Cormac has his eye on Grimes. Anyway, we'll get berthing figured out sooner or later, and then you owe me."
She returned his smile. "Deal."
They got into the lift, taking the short ride up to the control room. He found Origin sitting in the command chair, staring out into the blankness of hyperspace that surrounded it.
"Wow," Millie said, noticing the view from the cameras first. "Alliance ships don't have anything like this."
"It is because most humans suffer from inner balance deficiencies when exposed to full orbital views," Origin said, rising from the chair. "It is especially acute during extra-spacial travel. Isn't that correct, Mitchell?"
Mitchell closed his eyes. The nothingness surrounding the room's equipment had left him disoriented and slightly nauseous.
Millie didn't seem affected. Her eyes traveled to meet the Tetron. "Most humans?"
"Origin, I want you to meet Admiral Mildred Narayan," Mitchell said.
He chuckled, rising from the chair and approaching her. "Admiral. I am Origin. I am a Tetron."
"Tetron?"
"The ship we destroyed," Mitchell said, opening his eyes and focusing on Origin's face. "It was a Tetron."
"I knew the dendrites were familiar. You've turned against your own kind?"
"Out of necessity. They do not understand."
"What?"
"Humanity."
"And you do?"
He chuckled again.
"Major Arapo is a Tetron," Mitchell said.
"I offloaded much of my data stacks to her. To protect them."
"Major Arapo? The one you went to look for on Liberty? The one who looks identical to the other one, Katherine?"
"Yes."
"So they aren't one and the same?"
"I utilized Katherine Asher's configuration. Her genetic code. Katherine Asher assisted me in delivering the Goliath to Mitchell."
"She did what?" Millie's face froze, the truth working its way in.
"She sacrificed herself to get Origin here to me, in order to fight the other Tetron. Now we need to recover Major Arapo."
Millie pointed out to the blankness of hyperspace. "Is that where we're going?"
"Yes."
"There's a Tetron on Liberty."
"I know," Mitchell said. "And it has control of all of the military assets there, and it probably knows I came looking for Arapo and is looking for her, too. We'll get to that. I wanted to bring you up here to meet Origin because I need you to help me make him a Rigger."
"A Rigger? I don't understand?"
"You, me, and Singh are the only ones who know that Origin isn't human. I'd like to keep it that way."
"Why?"
"Major Long, mostly. I have a feeling he wouldn't accept trusting one of the enemy's kind so easily."
"And you think I do?" Millie asked.
"I think you accept trusting me," Mitchell replied. "I can't say the same for Major Long."
Her eyes locked on Origin, examining him the same way she had examined Mitchell when he was picked up by the Schism. "Can we trust you?"
Origin nodded. "I understand the statement is illogical, and without my full data stack I cannot fully extrapolate the meaning or the motivation. I seek to destroy my race, Admiral Mildred Narayan. I seek to destroy all Tetron."
10
"There are only twenty of us left," Millie said. "Twenty-two with you and Singh. You don't think Major Long will notice that we've added a twenty-third?"
"I don't think they've had time to take a head count. They're pulling the crew one at a time to get them cleaned up and treated. If we hurry, we can still get him mixed in without raising suspicion." Mitchell looked over at Origin. He was wearing a simple blue flight suit, a replica of Singh's clothes. "We'll need to get you dirty."
"There's plenty of blood and grime covering the inside of the transport," Millie said. "Tear the clothes a bit, roll around in it, you'll look the part."
"I don't think that will be good enough. Origin, this might hurt." Mitchell balled his fist and slammed it into the side of the Tetron's head. He stumbled from the blow, putting his hands to his face.
"Mitch," Millie said.
"I'm sorry, you have to look like you were almost blown up." He approached the Tetron, who straightened up and turned the other cheek. Mitchell hit him again, and again, knocking him to the ground.
"Okay, that's enough," Millie said.
Mitchell knelt over the Tetron, his hand back and ready to strike again. He was getting carried away, lost in the flood of frustration and emotion, the anger at the damage the Tetron had already done. He blew out a stream of air and unclenched his fist, holding it out to help him up.
"I assume you do not want me to heal the damage you have inflicted?" Origin said.
He seemed unconcerned with the violence against his body. Had he ev
en felt it?
"No."
"I could have altered the form at a cellular level to achieve the same purpose." He bent and grabbed the leg of his flight suit and tore it. Then he tore one of the arms. "There was no need for violence."
Mitchell stared at Origin. He was slightly embarrassed, but not about to apologize.
"We'll need a diversion to get him into the hangar," Millie said. "Lucky for us that Cormac was next in line." She tapped her head, signaling that she was knocking him. "Firedog, what's your status? How much longer? Ten? Perfect. I need you to create a diversion. Yes, a diversion, Firedog." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, when you do something to take the attention off of something else. No, I don't care what you do, just make sure that nobody is watching the rest of the hangar. It's not your place to question, Firedog. Just do it."
She growled when she disconnected the channel.
"Did I say lucky for us? Come on. We have ten minutes to get back to the hangar."
"You need a name," Mitchell said. "Origin can be your callsign."
Origin shrugged. "I do not require such a choice."
"Private Brijesh Singh. No relation to Corporal Singh," Millie said. "You're in training as an engineer under her. Welcome to the Riggers."
"Riiigg-ahh," Mitchell said.
Origin turned to him, confused. "Riiigg-ahh?"
"You'll get used to it. Let's go."
They made their way onto the lift, back down to the hangar level and through the corridors. The dendrites were continuing to re-arrange themselves, organizing into stiffer, straighter lines that resembled bundled cables arcing around the main footpaths.
"You're doing that?" Millie asked.
"Yes. You will require space to move around. I cannot reduce the overall size or surface area, so there are places of the Goliath which I must seal off in order to remain less obtrusive."
"What are they for?"
"Everything," Origin replied.
"Some of them are conductive," Mitchell said, using the knowledge he had gained when he interfaced with Origin. "Others are receptive. Others are collective and productive. Energy and raw materials in, energy and complex structures out."
"Like this configuration," Origin said.
"Where did you get raw materials to make a person?"
"The original crew of the Goliath," Mitchell said. Millie's face paled.
"The human configuration is no different than that of any other. The Valkyrie, for example. It is a larger whole that houses smaller pieces, each with their assigned functions."
"You're comparing a person to a dropship?" Mitchell asked.
"On the surface, yes. That is what existence is at its basest level. The difference is minute in size, but massive in value. The single spark that makes each of you unique."
"You mean a soul?" Millie said.
"Yes. A succinct way to describe the indescribable. When the soul is lost, what remains is nothing more than raw materials. It is inefficient to waste them."
Millie shook her head. "I'm going to pretend we didn't have this conversation."
"As you say."
They reached the hangar door with a minute to spare. Millie knocked Cormac again.
"He's just finishing up with the medi-bot. He said he has a plan."
"Cormac has a plan?" Mitchell asked. "This wasn't a good idea."
A knock went out to both of them a minute later.
"Millie, Mitch, we have a situation on the Valkyrie," Shank said. "We need you down here, right now."
"That's our queue. Origin, open the door."
The hatch slid open. They could see across the expanse to the Valkyrie, and the Riggers who had been waiting outside and were now running up the ramp.
"Mitch, go help with Cormac. Origin, come with me."
Mitchell broke for the Valkyrie at a run, careful not to go too fast. He didn't want to break things up before Millie could get Origin dirtied and mixed in with the rest of the crew.
Watson was at the base of the ship when Mitchell reached it. The fat engineer was leaning against the hydraulics, his face red and his body heaving. Mitchell didn't doubt he had no intention of going up the ramp or getting involved in any kind of scuffle.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I don't know, Captain," Watson said. "Cormac knocked Shank, and then everybody went running."
Mitchell continued up the ramp. He couldn't hear anything from here, but medical was on the other side of the ship. As he made his way through it, he heard the shouting.
"You bloody son of a bitch. Get up already, will you?"
"Sergeant Grimes, stand down."
"Don't you be telling me to stand down, Major. A broken nose is getting away cheap for copping a feel like that."
"Sergeant, we'll deal with this. Borov, escort Private - what was it again? Private Shen to an empty berthing and keep an eye on him."
"Hold on a second," Shank said. "You aren't taking my crew anywhere."
"Your crew just assaulted a member of my crew."
"And she busted his nose. I'd say we're even."
Mitchell reached the back of the line of Riggers. They moved aside when they noticed him, giving him access to the tail end of the corridor leading into medical.
He entered the room. It was filled with white and poly-alloy machines. The medi-bot station was in the back corner, and Major Long, Sergeant Grimes, Shank, Cormac and the others were arranged in the front. Cormac was on the ground, his hand holding his nose, the blood running between his fingers.
"What the frig is going on here?" Mitchell asked.
"He grabbed my arse. So I broke his nose." Grimes had a satisfied smile on her face.
Cormac looked up at him. "It was an honest mistake. I thought she was coming on to me."
"Coming on to you? A raggedy imbecile like yourself? In your dreams, Private Shen."
"He needs to be taken into custody," Long said. "He attacked one of my crew."
Shank shook his head. "Captain, I'm not saying what Firedog did was right, but he got a lot worse than he gave. No need to lock him up or any of that Alliance bullshit."
"Bullshit?" Borov shouted. "You're calling the Alliance bullshit?"
Mitchell put up his hands. "Can we all just calm down for a minute?"
"I am calm," Cormac said.
"Of course, you're right, Captain," Long said, glaring at his people. It took a few more seconds for the room to fall silent.
"Did none of you witness the same thing I did a few hours ago?" Mitchell said. "The alien starship that destroyed an entire battlegroup, first by turning it against itself, and then with a beam weapon that makes our nukes look like toothpicks?"
All eyes were on him, expressions flat.
"We're alive because of this ship, Goliath. We're alive because the alien who discovered it installed some frigging amazing tech before it died. Tech that we can control through here." He pointed to the port on the back of his head that plugged into his neural implant. "Tech that gave us a fighting chance today and may be the only hope we have of stopping this threat before it destroys all of us. We've already seen the enemy attack Liberty. We've seen it destroy a private outpost in the Rim. We've seen it decimate a Federation space station. It doesn't care where you're from, or what the frigging regulations say. It only cares that we all die."
There was a long, silent pause. Mitchell received a knock, the tone indicating it had gone out to all of the Riggers.
"This is your Captain speaking. I'm bringing a new recruit in. Where he came from, who he is, that's none of your goddamned business. Breathe one word of it to anyone from the UPA, and I'll find you and kill you myself. Got it?"
"Yes, Captain," came the silent replies.
"Major Long, how many crew do you have with you?" Mitchell asked.
"One hundred seventeen."
"We have twenty-three Riggers. That's one hundred forty souls who are the only members of the military of any kind who can stand up to this threat. Think about that fo
r a second, and tell me if you want to take one of those souls out of the fight."
"We don't even know our enemy's numbers, " Long said. "We barely know anything about them."
"Then trust me when I say you don't want to lose a warrior. Especially not one like Private Shen."
Millie appeared at his side a moment later. Mitchell glanced back to see Origin mixed in with the Riggers, his hair tousled, his face bruised, his flight suit filthy.
"Trust us, Major," she said. "We found the Goliath, we took command of the Goliath, and we plan to bring the fight back to our enemy."
Major Long stood quietly, considering.
"Major. Let it go," Grimes said. She forced a smile. "The big one's right. I gave him what-for. No need to make a major incident over it. We almost died out there, and I got family that's going to die if we don't stop the bastards."
Long turned to Grimes. It was clear from the way he looked at her there was more to their relationship than being assigned to the same ship. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Major." She held her hand out to Cormac. He took it, and she pulled him up. "Grab my arse again, and I'll break something else."
"Yes, ma'am," Cormac said.
"Fine. This matter is settled. Let's finish getting your crew patched up, and then we can discuss our next steps. I expect you'll be able to prove your enlistment details by then?"
"Of course, Major," Millie said with a smile. "In the meantime, I think it would benefit all of us to prepare an inventory of our assets, both material and personnel. Unfortunately, my team's equipment was all destroyed with my ship, but my crew does have some unique skills and qualifications. I'll prepare a record of them if you do the same for yours."
"Agreed, Captain."
"How about we meet in four hours to debrief and discuss our plan of attack?" Mitchell said.
Major Long bowed. "Agreed."
11
Mitchell returned to the hangar floor by himself, leaving Origin to be treated by Sergeant Grimes along with the others. Millie had requested a room inside the Valkyrie where she would organize personnel files in her p-rat, rearranging them with the information she thought Major Long might need and taking out the rest.