by Isaac Hooke
The clamps on either side telescoped into his rib area, securing him. His stomach still felt queasy: while there were inertial dampeners aboard the shuttle, there was no artificial gravity.
“Have you heard anything from the Argonaut, yet?” Rade asked after taking his seat.
“No,” Algorithm replied. “The vessel refuses to reply.”
Rade sat back, and sighed deeply.
When Tahoe, Manic, Bender, and Surus had loaded into the shuttle with him, Rade had Algorithm close the ramp. Then Brat opened up the topmost shuttle to allow the remaining Argonauts inside.
Attached to Surus’ harness were the two heat-damaged, hand-sized robots she had taken from the planet. Now that Rade could observe them up close and away from the swarm, he confirmed they bore a striking resemblance to insects, like the behemoths. Their oval-shaped, segmented metal bodies had six clawed legs, and from their heads emerged two mandibles from which thrust a single long proboscis.
“Get those robot bugs away from me!” Bender said, noticing the things for the first time.
“No one told you to sit beside me,” Surus told him.
Bender retracted his seat clamps and shoved himself across the cabin, then took a seat across from her.
“TJ, Fret, Lui, and Harlequin have loaded,” Brat informed Rade. “And I have shut the ramp.”
“Algorithm, pressurize the cabin and plot a pursuit course with the Argonaut,” Rade said. “Synchronize engines with Shuttle B, and engage.”
Rade felt his seat shudder as the engines activated. He switched to an external camera and confirmed that the topmost Dragonfly was applying propellant as well. By combining the shuttles like that, they increased their maximum possible speed, however it was still a far cry from the Argonaut’s maximum. The Hoplites were towed along behind them.
He reverted back to the view from his faceplate.
“Cabin is pressurized,” Algorithm announced.
“Open up your faceplates,” Rade said. “It’s time to conserve jumpsuit oxygen.”
Rade activated the faceplate retraction control, and the glass slid back. His face felt frigid as he inhaled the sterile air. It smelled rusty.
Other Argonauts opened their faceplates; Bender and Manic removed their helmets entirely. Surus likewise removed her helmet, shaking out her hair. Bender remained uncharacteristically quiet as she did so: he simply stared at the deck.
“Boss,” Algorithm said from the cockpit. “You know that we’ll never catch the Argonaut, right?”
“Do you have any idea of their course, yet?” Rade said.
“They appear to be heading toward the outer planets, on the way to the exit Gate,” Algorithm said.
“Are there any stations or bases on that route?” Rade said. “Where the ship could make a layover?”
“Only one,” Algorithm said. “A small pleasure-themed station orbiting the fifteenth moon of the fourth gas giant. They’ll pass it on their current trajectory. But why would they stop?”
“Probably won’t,” Rade agreed. “How long until they reach the Gate?”
“About a week,” Algorithm said.
“And how long until we arrive?” Rade asked.
“Eighteen days, at our current velocity,” Algorithm said.
Rade nodded slowly.
Like Algorithm said, we’ll never catch them.
“I suggest we make a stop at the station,” Surus said. “To purchase a temporary replacement vessel.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Rade said. “Assuming you can afford it.”
Surus gave him what looked like an insulted half-smile.
“If we continue on our current trajectory, how long until we reach the station, Algorithm?” Rade asked.
“Five days,” Algorithm said.
“And then how long to the Gate after that?” Rade said. “Assuming we acquire a ship with the same engine profile as the Argonaut?”
“Another five days.”
“That’s reasonable,” Rade said.
“One thing that’s bugging me,” Tahoe said. “Why haven’t the Phants opened fire on us? If they wanted to stop us, whoever is in control of the Argonaut has had ample opportunity.”
“If the two Phants got aboard,” Surus said. “They would have indeed fired already. Unless something stopped them.”
“Shaw,” Tahoe said.
“Yes,” Surus said. “She must have found a way to disable the weapons.”
Rade felt his face become hot, the cold air of the cabin becoming a distant memory. Was she still aboard, a prisoner held by the Phants? Or dead? He had no way of knowing.
“Thanks for what you did out there,” Tahoe said.
Rade realized Tahoe was talking to him, and he glanced at his friend distractedly. “You would have done it for me, or any of us.”
Tahoe nodded behind his open faceplate, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Do you think she’s all right?”
Tahoe didn’t have to clarify who he meant by “she.” They all knew.
Rade knotted his gloved fingers, but didn’t reply.
“If Corunna managed to install a Trojan in the shuttles,” Manic said, “who knows what kind of tampering she engaged in with the Argonaut itself?”
“This is all my fault,” Bender blurted out. “I was in charge of reviewing the system logs. But I didn’t spot a thing. Didn’t see any signs of tampering. I obviously missed something. I messed up. Big time. I should have paid extra attention to the subsystems, considering that we had a guest aboard. If I had, none of this would have happened. I should have puckered up my asshole real tight. Instead, I’ve become the very thing I despise most in life. I’ve become a bitch.”
“No you haven’t,” Rade said. “You assumed we could trust the Green. You assumed she was our ally, like we all did. Our guard was down. It’s not your fault you didn’t notice her system access attempts. She probably covered her tracks very well.”
“I disagree,” Manic said. “If he wants to call himself a bitch, let him.”
Bender looked up. His features seemed a mix of emotions. Shame. Regret. Anger.
“Yeah, that’s right, you’re a bitch,” Manic taunted.
Bender exploded. His restraining clamps retracted and he propelled himself across the cabin. He landed on Manic, his fists flying. Blood spurted from Manic’s nose; the ferocity of the attack had obviously taken him off guard, because Manic offered no defense. He was already out of the fight. He simply took the blows.
Tahoe and Surus pulled Bender off of him.
“Manic, you all right?” Rade said, shoving off to join him.
Manic wiped the blood from his nose. “Sure. That time of the month for Bender, I guess.”
“Tahoe, get the Weaver in here,” Rade said. “Bender, damn it. We have to keep it together now more than ever before. We all need to be at our strongest in the days to come. We can’t waste energy fighting each other.”
Bender was staring down at his hands. The knuckles were bloody. Rade thought it was Manic’s blood at first, but then realized Bender had been hitting him hard enough to break his own skin.
“I’m sorry, boss,” Bender said.
“You’re damn right you’re sorry.” A sudden wave of anger came over Rade. “I’m docking half a month’s salary from your pay. And I want you to drop to the deck immediately. Assume the plank position. Activate the magnetic mounts in your chest and boot tips, strength seventy-five percent.” That would be enough to simulate gravity in the zero G environment of the cabin. It might even be too high, but Rade wanted Bender to work.
“But my hands—” Bender began.
“To hell with your hands,” Rade said, assuming his mantle of cruel taskmaster with gusto. “Drop and push ‘em. Now, bitch!”
Bender’s head shot up, a flare of rage flashing in his eyes. Rade had never called any of them a bitch before. Not even in PT. Especially not Bender.
Good. Let him feel what it’s like to be called a bitc
h by someone you respect, your leader, in front of everyone.
The anger quickly faded and Bender lowered his eyes once more. “Yes, boss.”
Bender dropped and attached himself to the deck. Then he began pushing out the reps, countering the magnetic forces.
“Are you sure that’s seventy-five percent?” Rade said. “Seems too easy.”
“It’s seventy-five,” Bender said.
“Make it eighty, then,” Rade said.
“Yes, boss.” Bender slowed down visibly a moment later.
“I want five hundred of these,” Rade said. “And every morning at ten a.m. you’re to attach yourself to the deck with similar magnetic settings, and do another five hundred. That should work the aggression out of you. When you’re done your current set, have the Weaver treat your knuckles.”
Rade felt a moment of pity when he saw the blood oozing from Bender’s knuckles, and heard him wheezing from the difficulty of the pushups, but Rade quickly dismissed it. Sometimes what his Argonauts really needed was tough love.
At least that was what he told himself. Because he knew, deep down, that he was only getting out his frustrations and pent-up emotions on Bender. He wasn’t angry at Bender. The man fought Manic all the time, about the littlest things.
Yes, Rade was only pissed at himself.
I’ve lost Shaw yet again. She could be dead.
He wondered if he should tell Bender to stop. The man continued to pump out those pushups, grunting with each rep.
No. Can’t go back on a punishment after it’s been meted out.
But Rade resolved to apologize to Bender later for the “bitch” comment at the very least, when they had both calmed down.
Bender’s pushup tempo increased in a sudden spurt, and he grunted loudly with each one. Rade doubted the Argonaut had lowered the magnetization setting; he was sure Bender was merely getting mad all over again, and using the anger to power through.
Might be a while before I can get in that apology.
sixteen
Rade had given the team the order to rack out, but was unable to do so himself. How could he sleep, knowing that Shaw was somewhere out there, either dead or trapped aboard the ship?
Surus was also awake, of course. She was sitting in the cockpit beside Algorithm, examining the swarm robot she had captured.
In the dim cabin light, Bender shifted. Rade focused his attention on the Argonaut. After the Weaver had finished attending Manic, it had waited about half an hour for Bender to finish his push-ups, and then gone to him. That had been a few minutes ago.
Rade retracted the seat clamps and shoved off, floating to him.
Bender glanced up.
“Hey boss,” Bender said quietly. His fists were wrapped in gauze. The knuckles were bloody. Odd; there should have been no blood on them at all. Hell, he shouldn’t have even needed any bandages once the surgical robot was done.
Then again, now that Rade thought about it, the Weaver’s session had been a little short.
“How are the hands?” Rade asked softly. He pulled himself into an empty seat beside Bender.
“Fine,” Bender said.
“They don’t look fine,” Rade said. “I told you to have the Weaver treat them.”
“You did,” Bender agreed.
“Then why haven’t you?” Rade asked.
“Dunno,” Bender said. “Guess I wanted to punish myself further for attacking Manic for no reason. And for allowing Corunna to steal our ship, and Shaw. Pushups... well, pushups ain’t enough.”
“The only one who should be punished is me,” Rade said. “It’s my fault any of this happened. I could have refused to allow Corunna aboard. Or I could have had her watched more readily, not just by the AI, but by members of our crew. It’s because of me that we’ve lost the Argonaut. And Shaw.” As well as my unborn boy and girl.
“Then why do I feel so bad?” Bender said. “I hate this. Knowing that we’ve lost one of the most important crew members of all. We let Shaw down. She’s our astrogator. We all love her.”
Rade felt himself tearing up and he had to look away. The tears accumulated around his eyes in the zero G and he had to wipe them away, taking a moment to compose himself. Finally, he glanced at Bender once more and said: “By the way, I’m sorry for saying you were a bitch earlier. That was uncalled for.”
“Nah,” Bender said. “You can call me bitch if you want. You’re the boss. If I’m anyone’s bitch, I’m yours. Just don’t insert it too hard, kay?”
Rade laughed, and for a moment he forgot all of his troubles. “What would I do without you? You’re not my bitch. You never will be. You’re one of the best men I have. Maybe the best. Despite your foibles.”
“Thanks, boss,” Bender said. “Try not to give me a big head. Hey, wait a second, what foibles?”
“Your inclination to scuffle with Manic, for example,” Rade said.
“Oh,” Bender said. “That. He’s the one always instigating it. You saw what he did back there.”
“I did,” Rade said, allowing his voice to grow sarcastic. “He’s a very bad man, isn’t he?”
“Damn straight.”
“I’m awake you know...” Manic said.
“Go back to sleep, bitch, before I break your other nose,” Bender said.
“My other nose?” Manic said. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your dick...” Bender said.
“Um,” Manic said. “You can’t break a dick.”
“Yeah you can,” Bender said. “Snap the spongy chambers inside, and it’s broken. You’ll swell up like a balloon.”
“That’s a disgusting image,” Manic said.
“Really?” Bender said. “I thought you’d enjoy it. Considering that your dick is so small, you’d do anything to make it bigger, even break it.”
“How about I break your dick instead?” Manic said.
“Okay,” Rade said. “That’s enough, Bender. Go to sleep, Manic.”
“Yes, boss,” Manic said.
Rade turned back toward Bender. Rade was still wearing his helmet, with the faceplate open, and as such was able to extend the noise canceler around Bender so that no one else would hear his next words. If he were aboard the Argonaut, similar noise cancelers embedded in the overhead would have offered the same functionality without the need for a helmet.
Bender must have heard the subtle dampening of sound in the cabin, because he said: “Noise canceler?”
“Yes,” Rade said.
“Perfect,” Bender said. “So I can be completely straight up with you. It really was my fault, boss. For real. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I feel like I’m dying inside. If something happens to Shaw, or your unborn children—”
“Listen to me, Bender, and listen good,” Rade said. “Because I’m not going to tell you this again. The fault is mine. You get that? Mine. And if you want to help me shoulder the blame, that’s fine, but it’s not something I’m asking of you, and I hope, I really do, that you’ll drop this. As I said before, what the hell would we do without you? If you weren’t here to fight at our sides, who would we have to stand between us and the long legion of bugs in this hostile universe?”
Bender sniffed and wiped at one eye. At first Rade wasn’t sure if he was joking, or serious, but then when Bender looked away and wiped his eye again, Rade realized the man was sincere.
“Thanks, boss,” Bender said. “That means a lot to me.” He chuckled softly. “Bugs. They really are everywhere these days, aren’t they? If not organic bugs, then robotic.” He shook his head. “The bitches. Hard to believe, there was once a time when humanity believed itself alone in this universe. In our very own youths people were still talking about the Fermi paradox. We had achieved faster than light space travel, with the help of Slipstreams, and still encountered no aliens. Until we discovered the Phants. After that happened, it’s like the floodgates were unleashed. The asshole of the universe opened right up to shit aliens all over us. We enc
ounter a new bug species almost every other year. Literally a fecal explosion of bugs. There’s gotta be an explanation for that.”
“I’m sure you’ll come up with one,” Rade said. “Bender’s Bug Paradox. Bowel movements not included.”
“That’s right,” Bender said. “Though the only explanation I got is that the universe hates us. The Argonauts, particularly.”
“It’s a good theory, but I think you’re wrong,” Rade said. “Because if the universe hated us, we wouldn’t be alive right now. All the brushes with death we’ve had, all the narrow escapes, I can’t believe that the universe has singled us out for anything but good luck. To counter the bad luck of meeting the bugs in the first place.”
Bender stared at him seriously for a moment, then cracked a grin. “You know that makes no sense, right? Good luck to counter the bad luck of meeting the bugs...”
Rade laughed. “I suppose not.”
“But even so,” Bender continued. “I actually feel better now after talking with you.”
Rade patted him on the back. “Go to the Weaver. Get those knuckles treated. You’ve punished yourself enough. And going forward, leave all the punishing to me.”
Bender flashed a crooked smile. “You got it, boss.” He pulled himself from his seat and launched toward the rear of the cabin, where the Weaver awaited.
Watching him go, Rade shook his head, reflecting on what he had just said. Bender had seen right through his lie: that little bit about the universe being on their side and always bringing them good luck. Back in his military days, Rade had learned firsthand how little the universe cared about him and his team. Stints of good luck were routinely followed by even longer spells of bad luck. As a part of the team, Bender would have known that very well.
Rade just hoped that Shaw wasn’t at the forefront of the latest downturn in their luck.
SHAW STARED NUMBLY at the spinning points of light before her. Her mind continually dwelled upon the events leading up to her expulsion into the void, and what happened thereafter.