Tiny things, most of all, just as Finlay said. Small enough to fit inside Serengeti’s main cargo bay and still have room to move about.
“Send your data packages over,” Henricksen ordered. “Real information this time, not that crap cover you tried to sell us before. No self-respecting AI’s ever gonna name themselves Bobo or Bluebell or whatever fake names you put in those files.”
“Incoming communication,” Delacroix reported barely a second later. He ran the decryption himself this time and passed the contents to Henricksen.
“Well I’ll be…” Henricksen laughed aloud, fumbling at his panel. Searched through Serengeti’s directories for a few seconds before giving up and asking Serengeti for help. “Need to send a message back. Same encryption routine as the one that came in.”
Serengeti set up the shell and waited while Henricksen tapped out a message. Sealed it with a security code before sending it over to the lead Raven.
A hush fell over the bridge, everyone holding their breath, staring at the windows as a voice came through—AI voice, no doubt about it. Shunted through the speakers by Serengeti herself.
“Henricksen? That really you?”
“In the flesh.” Henricksen smiled widely. “Long time, no see, Shriek.”
“Heard you were dead,” Shriek said, voice clipped, almost harried sounding—odd tone for an AI. “Fifty-three years. Should be dead.”
“Yeah, well. You know me. Never did do what I was supposed to.”
The ship out there laughed softly.
Serengeti closed the comms, giving them some privacy. Not quite liking this whole chummy, long-lost-friends vibe she felt going on. “I take it you know each other?”
Henricksen threw a sharp look at the camera, seeming to sense something in her voice. “Four-man ops squad,” he said, tone neutral, carefully controlled. “Me, Sikuuku, Ogawa, and Hanu running skunk works with Shriek and his buddies.” He paused, mouth open, eyes flicking to the windows. “Not my assignment,” he told her, looking back to the camera. “Shriek wasn’t in charge. It was Scythe that ran the squadron back when I was a Raven.”
“And you in charge of the operations.”
Henricksen nodded, eyes never leaving the camera. “Scythe…” He trailed off, dropping his eyes to his station, scrolling through the information on the Ravens around them. “Not here,” he murmured, brow wrinkling, a hint of worry infecting his voice. “Shriek’s here, and the rest of the squadron, but no Scythe.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Very,” he nodded, taking another look.
“What do you suppose happened to her?”
“If I know Scythe…” Henricksen shook his head, frown deepening.
“Do you?” Serengeti asked quietly. “Just how well did you get to know Scythe?”
Henricksen went very still, eyes lifting to the camera. “Long time ago, Serengeti. Ancient history now. Black Ops, the Ravens…” He shook his head, lips pressed in a hard line. “I left that all behind. My choice, Serengeti. Mine, understand?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Henricksen flinched, eyes narrowing.
The crew called him captain, but Serengeti rarely did. They served as equals—partners protecting their crew. Titles added a formality neither of them wanted. But using the title now…well, it did get his attention. And added a weight to Serengeti’s words that tone sometimes couldn’t convey.
“So why are they following us?” Serengeti asked him—capitulating, wanting to move on.
Henricksen dipped his head, acknowledging the gesture. “Good question. How’s about we find out?” He flashed a smile and keyed comms open, addressing the ships outside. “What’re you doin’ here, Shriek?”
“What are you doing here?” the Raven threw back.
“None of your business. Now answer the question: why are you and your boys following us?”
“We weren’t—”
“Bullshit. You wouldn’t be cloaked if you weren’t. Spill it, Shriek. Why are you doggin’ my tail?”
“Curious?”
“Not good enough,” Henricksen snapped. “I’ve still got that big gun pointed your way, and my gunner here is just itching to give it a go.”
Bosch stuck a ham-sized hand from the Artillery pod, giving Henricksen a thumbs up.
“You’re Fleet, Shriek. Which means you’re with Brutus. And since you’re following us in secret, you know we’re not.”
“Sir.” Finlay twisted, looking around. “Maybe—”
“Not now, Finlay.” Henricksen raised a hand, cutting her off. “Truth, Shriek. All of it this time, or I’ll blow you and your buddies to kingdom come.”
A pause, comms quiet on their side, Serengeti picking up other communications flashing back and forth between the Ravens across a channel she couldn’t touch.
“We’re not with the Fleet,” Shriek finally admitted. “Not anymore.”
“DSR?” Henricksen looked surprised. Shared a worried look with the camera.
“Right.” Shriek snorted. “Like we’re gonna throw in with that chicken shit outfit. We’re independents now, Henricksen. Got sick of Brutus’s crap so we went freelance a few years ago.”
“Why?” Serengeti asked, not quite buying it. “Last I remember Black Ops were the darlings of the Fleet. Brutus’s precious, protected pets, second only to his bloody, brutish Dreadnoughts.”
Henricksen muted the channel. “Wow, Serengeti. That didn’t sound bitter at all.”
“I don’t like them. Sue me.”
“I like this side of you,” Henricksen chuckled, thumbing comms back open. “Answer the lady’s question.”
Another pause—Shriek probably trying to decide some other fabricated story and the actual truth. “Bastard tried to drone us. Can you believe that?” Shriek sounded indignant—guess he settled on truth. “Take away our crew and dumb down the AIs.” Shriek grunted in contempt. “Well, ya know what I told him?”
Henricksen smiled, muting the comms on his end. “I’ve got a pretty good guess.”
“Fuck that,” Shriek spat.
“Wow,” Finlay blinked. “He’s pretty foul-mouthed for an AI.”
“You shoulda heard Scythe. Cursed like a sailor.” Henricksen looked surprisingly proud. Pressed a finger to his lips as he unmuted their end of the comms channel and picked up the interrogation where he’d left off. “So you broke ranks and took off. Just like that.”
“Uh-huh. Me and Swift. Sharp and Stitch and Snicker-snack over there.”
Finlay giggled. “Snicker-snack? What kinda name is that?”
“Mine,” a voice droned, clearly unamused.
“Oh. Sorry.” Finlay blushed brightly, ducking her head. Tapped at the panel in front of, engrossing herself in Scan.
“Brutus took away our crews, so we stole ‘em back,” Shriek said smugly. “High-tailed it for deep space and never looked back.”
“So that’s where you’ve been all this time?” Serengeti asked him. “Hiding out? You abandoned the Fleet, took off on your own, and you’ve been doing…what? Besides following ships through jump, that is?”
“Be nice,” Henricksen whispered, cutting his eyes toward to the ships outside.
“Why?” Serengeti demanded. “I honestly see no reason at all to be nice to these sneaking little runts.”
Henricksen rolled his eyes. “Just…tone it down,” he told her. And to the ships outside, “Stop dancing around and answer the question, Shriek. Why were you tailing us through jump?”
“Told you before: we were curious.”
“And?” Henricksen waited, but Shriek buttoned his lip and kept his mouth shut. “The rest of it, Shriek. Now,” he ordered.
“Look,” Shriek sighed. “It’s boring out there in the fringes. So we’ve been sort of…keeping tabs on things. Watching the comings and goings of the ships in the Fleet. Might’ve noticed the Valkyries were up to something a few months ago so we started following them around for a while.” Shriek went silent for f
ive whole seconds—a long pause for an AI, an eternity for a blabbermouth like him. “We saw them rescue you, Serengeti. Watched Sechura and the others tow you back to Blue Horizon.”
“Did you now,” Serengeti murmured. “Well, thanks a bunch for helping out.”
“Nice,” Henricksen mouthed, throwing a stern look at the camera.
Serengeti flashed an image to his panel: rounded smiley face, tongue sticking out.
Henricksen snorted, wiping it from his panel. “Why?” he asked on her behalf. “I get your beef with Brutus. I even get why you took off. But why go to the trouble of following the Valkyries around in secrecy? If you thought they were up to something, why not reach out? See if you could join forces or something?”
“Wasn’t sure we could trust ‘em,” Shriek admitted. “Valkyries come and go, collecting wrecked vessels, shipping them off to get fixed. Could be they’re up to something we don’t wanna be a part of. Looking to stir up some trouble that could get us all killed. Could be they’re just operating on Brutus’s orders—”
“Right,” Serengeti snorted. “Because we so love Brutus.”
Henricksen muted the channel. “Could you at least pretend to be nice?”
“No,” Serengeti said flatly.
Henricksen sighed heavily, shaking his head as he opened the channel back up.
“You’re a close-mouthed bunch, Serengeti,” Shriek was saying.
“And you want me to be nice to that.”
“Quiet,” Henricksen warned, giving her camera a stern look.
“Wasn’t quite sure I could trust you until we caught you sneaking away from Blue Horizon.” Shriek paused again, longer this time. “Didn’t know about the Dreadnought refit, by the way. Never could see under that shimmer shield.”
“Yeah, well, take a good look at the new me,” Serengeti said sourly. “Baddest-ass bitch in the galaxy.”
Shriek laughed appreciatively. “Say that again, Sister.”
“I’m not your sister,” Serengeti growled.
Fifteen
“So what now, Shriek?” Henricksen stared at the windows, arms folded tight to his chest. “We know who you are, and now you know who we are. Neither of us is with the Fleet, but you’re not quite sure you can trust us and I damned well know better than to trust any of you.”
Shriek laughed again—Shriek and all the rest of the Ravens with him, much to Serengeti’s surprise.
Strange AIs, these stealth ships. Not like any other crystal matrix mind set she’d encountered.
“You’re right, Henricksen. I’m not quite sure I trust you. But we’re bored and you’re up to something. Something secret, apparently, based on the way you’re leapfrogging around. So we discussed it amongst ourselves, and we want in.”
“You want in,” Henricksen repeated, sharing a wary look with Serengeti. “Just like that?”
“Yup.”
“How do we know we can trust you?” Serengeti asked, suspicious still.
“You can’t,” Shriek said brightly. “And I can’t make you. But actions speak louder than words, as they say, and I think I’ve got something to offer that just might do the trick.”
“Oh yeah?” Henricksen looked suspicious—as suspicious as Serengeti felt. “What’s that?”
“You’re going to see Cerberus, right?”
Henricksen turned toward the camera, eyebrows lifting in alarm. “What the hell?” he mouthed.
Shriek laughed softly. “This is the part where I imagine the shocked look on your faces, and you mute the comms and argue heatedly about how I could possibly have come by this knowledge before opening the channel back up. Well, I’ll save you all that and just say this: if it was me that woke from a fifty-three-year dirt nap and found the Fleet gone to shit, the first thing I’d do is go looking for the head honcho and demand some answers.”
Henricksen cut the comms and just stood there—arms folded, staring through the windows at the ships outside.
Finlay looked around from Scan. “Why does that Raven sound like you?”
Henricksen frowned, looking down at her. “Doesn’t sound like me. Sounds like an AI asshole. No offense,” he added, tipping an invisible cap at the camera.
“None taken,” Serengeti said dryly.
Shriek, meanwhile, kept blathering away. Talking about the birds and the bees or some such thing while Finlay listened intently.
“Ain’t?” She turned around staring accusingly at her Captain. “He just said ‘ain’t.’ That’s so you.”
“Yeah. About that.” Henricksen actually looked embarrassed. “Me and Sikuuku mighta got drunk one time and sorta built him a lexicon of human phrases.”
“Ancient phrases from the sound of it,” Aoki muttered, and then clapped both hands to her mouth, looking horrified that she’d actually said that out loud.
“Hello? Helloooo? You guys still listening?” Shriek sent a blast of static over the channel that made everyone wince. “I’m pretty sure I know how to get you onto the Citadel without getting killed. You interested?”
Henricksen glanced at the windows, then back to the camera. “Up to you,” he said, leaving the decision to Serengeti.
“They’re deserters,” she reminded him. “I realize you ran with them, once upon a time, but do you think it’s good idea to bring three unknowns into the mix?”
“Probably not. But it can’t hurt to at least hear him out.” Henricksen glanced at the windows, looked up at Serengeti’s camera. “You said it yourself: it’s not like we’ve got all that many options. You don’t like what he has to say, you can always tell Shriek to piss off.”
“I don’t like him,” she said, “but I’ll leave the pissing off part to you, if it comes to that. You’re good at it. And much more eloquent than I.”
“Deal.” Henricksen nodded, smiling crookedly as he re-opened the line. “Alright, Shriek. We’re listening. Tell us about this grand scheme of yours.”
*****
“So let me get this straight,” Serengeti said after hearing Shriek out. “Your plan is for me to cruise in and make myself a target while you fly in under the radar and sneak into one of the Citadel’s landing bays. Do I have that right?”
“Well, it’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah. That’s it in a nutshell.”
“And why do I have to get shot at?” Serengeti demanded. “Why can’t I be the one doing the sneaking and you and your boys there play duck in the shooting gallery?”
“No offense, Serengeti, but you’re a tad…large,” Shriek said carefully.
Henricksen glowered at the stealth ship’s sharp-sided shape showing through the windows. “You callin’ my girl fat, Shriek?”
The Raven wisely didn’t answer that. “I suppose you might be able to slip through Cerberus’s defense perimeter if you shut your engines down and glide in on momentum. But no way you’re gonna dock that mass of yours without the Citadel noticing,.”
“And you can?”
“Yeah. He can.” Henricksen flicked his eyes to the camera. “That’s the whole point of a Raven. Shielding prevents the scans from picking them up. We never would’ve noticed Shriek and his boys ourselves except for the jump drive signature.”
“Alright. I’ll concede that point.” Grudgingly—didn’t much like conceding anything when it came to the stealth ships—but she did concede it. “Explain to me again why I need to get shot at.”
“Distraction,” Shriek told her. “Best way to sneak in unnoticed is to do it while everyone’s attention is focused somewhere else. We shorten this last hop, come in say…a hundred thousand kilometers out. Should be well outside Cerberus’s scans so he won’t pick us up. Use the main engines to give us a good shove and we glide in on momentum. No beacons, no engines, he’ll never even know we’re there.”
“How is that a distraction?”
“Ah. That’s the brilliant part.”
“Brilliant, my ass,” Serengeti muttered. “Guys the most puffed-up popinjay I’ve ever—”
“What? That was nice.”
Henricksen sighed heavily, eyes flicking to the watching crew. A very confused looking crew, AIs squabbling and taking cheap shots at each other being a somewhat new experience. “You said you’d hear him out.”
“I did. He’s an idiot.”
“He’s not—” Henricksen broke off, sighing again. “He’s painting a picture. You have to let him do more than just sketch the lines.”
“What if I don’t like the picture?”
“Told you before: we can always say no.”
“No.”
Henricksen glowered at her.
“Fine. I’ll let him finish. Just not promising I won’t set his little painting on fire once it’s done.”
“Fair enough.” Henricksen smiled, opening up the line.
Shriek still blathered away, seeming unaware that they’d muted him at all. “So you cruise in close, right? And then hit your engines full gas. Come flying in like a bat out of hell, all big show and shouty-shouty, drop a few repeaters to make it look like there’s a whole damn attack force coming down on Cerberus.”
“And you?” Serengeti asked. Politely this time. For Henricksen’s sake. “What will you be doing while I’m out there getting shot at?”
“Me and the boys here wait until Cerberus deploys those Mosquito drones of his—annoying little fuckers, by the way; not even sure why he has them when he’s got all those damned cannons all over his body. Anyway, where was I? Oh! Right. So me and the boys slip in behind the Mosquitoes all sneaky-sneaky like, and slide into the landing bay before anyone’s the wiser!” Shriek paused, waiting for their response. “So?” he asked, when the comms line stayed silent. “Whaddaya think?”
“I think you’re an idiot,” Serengeti said flatly.
“Oh for the luvva…” Henricksen bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“But I also think you’re right.” Hard admitting that—didn’t really want to admit it—but after running the numbers and playing out a few scenarios, she came up with no better answer than Shriek’s.
Serengati 2: Dark And Stars Page 15