The patrol craft took far too long to realize what was happening, and were disabled by the fast-diving minis before they had a chance to react. The transport did what any poorly trained crew would do. They sped up, futilely trying to escape. All this did was dramatically increase their signature on the sensors. The transport sub in the lead, the only one with a crew, labored against its heavy train of ore-laden trailers. After a moment they detached themselves, rocketing forward, the instant removal of mass increasing the engine’s effectiveness tenfold. Two of Thom’s corvettes had entered the fray at the point, sending out grapples, and started towing the ore train back towards the Reap.
The transport hadn’t gotten far before it was pounced on by two more minis. The engines were knocked out first, and the sub slowly came to a stop.
“Assault teams. Go,” Thom said, watching the action on the sensor monitors. Thom could feel the Reap shudder slightly, its buoyancy changing as the two shuttles detached from the hull, diving rapidly towards the dome below. Cameras along the keel zoomed in on the action, and Thom watched as the heavily armed assault teams subdued the staff of the dome. His assault teams went about systematically destroying every piece of equipment they could find. The staff was herded into the small lifeboat attached to the top of the living quarters. Thom didn’t see it happen, but knew the plan was for charges to be thrown down the open mine shaft, while others were sent down the conveyor belt deep into the mine.
It was all over in minutes. Soli signaled that he and his team were returning. There had been little to salvage. No sooner had the shuttles detached and started their return than flashes of explosions could be seen from the center of the dome. Water burst up from underneath the equipment, flooding the dome to at least waist height. The lights flickered out, cloaking the event in darkness. All that remained were the small emergency lights on the lifeboat, trapped inside a partially flooded dome. Thom had the comm officer send the recall command, and the ships formed up and rose away from the ruin they had caused. Around him his crew seemed elated. He wished he could have shared their joy.
Ten minutes later, it was like they were never there. The fleet ascended above the thermal layer and set out for their next target. With his second in command in charge of the bridge, and by extension the fleet, Thom headed down towards the back of the ship. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the constricted corridors of the Reap. Two people had to turn sideways to pass each other. Worse, wallplates were still missing in places, leaving exposed tangles of pipes and wires that threatened to snag, burn, or electrocute anyone who traversed the hallway. He got to the ready room where Soli and Lo’s teams were stowing their gear. Soli hopped on one foot as he struggled to remove one of his boots. Thom offered a hand of support, Soli took a shoulder.
“I take it everything went OK?” he asked the marine.
“No resistance.”
“None?”
“None. We walked in and everyone immediately put down their tools and whatnot and sat on the ground.”
“That’s it?”
“They looked pretty ragged, to be honest. When we put them all in the lifeboat, they looked...”
“Scared?”
“No. Disappointed.”
“What?”
“Wait a sec. Lo, come here. Tell the Commander what you told me.”
Lo was combing his hair, having already put on his civilian clothes. He wove his way between the rest of the dressing/undressing marines, his grace belying his mass.
“The management guy?” he asked Soli. The other marine nodded. “There was this one guy, seemed more like the manager of the place than one of the workers. He was watching over everyone as we rounded them up. Not in a bad way, kind of like how parents do with their kids, you know? He asked to be the last one in and when it was just him outside the lifeboat, he asked me if we had any food.”
“For him?” Thom asked.
“I don’t think so. It seemed like he was asking for his whole crew. It was really weird.”
“Did you give him anything?” Thom asked. The marines looked at each other awkwardly.
“We gave them what rations we had,” Lo answered almost sheepishly. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
Thom stood silently for a moment, and the marines grew concerned.
“Look, if it’s a problem, next time...” Soli began.
“Next time is the problem.” Thom replied. “You absolutely did the right thing. On the next run, if the same thing happens, let me know. After everyone is subdued and the place is clear, I think we can spare a few minutes to find out what’s going on.”
“What do you think?” Lo asked. Thom noticed the rest of the marines had stopped and were listening in on the conversation. Thom changed his tone and spoke to them all.
“When Ralla and I were on the Pop the people we met were very friendly. A real close-knit group. Closer, I’d say, than we are on the Uni. Many of them just had this blind hatred of us. No doubt spurred on by their leader. But now I wonder if there’s a few cracks in that hull. Above all, protect yourselves and your squadmates. But do your best to treat the Pop civilians as well as possible. I’ll see about having the cooks siphon off some of our supplies, even if it means we have to RTB a few weeks early for resupply. For the good we’ll be spreading, I think it will be worth it.”
“Got it,” Soli replied.
“Make sure all your men are running on the same layer.”
“Don’t worry. We were all talking about it on the way back. To be honest, we’re kind of freaked out about the whole thing. It’s not like we’re going after soldiers here.”
“Understood. Thank you, gentlemen.”
“Commander,” they said in unison. Thom uncomfortably returned their salute.
V
The cell door slammed open, but Ralla was already awake, so the dramatic effect was wasted. Oppai’s entrance, however, did surprise her. He was fuming. Ralla, having been meditating on her bed, leaned forward to peer out the door at the guards. They looked terrified. Not good.
“Get up!” Oppai barked. Ralla unfolded her legs and did as instructed. The Governor grabbed her arm abruptly and marched her out of the cell and up through the corridors of the ship. She’d been given an ill-fitting jumpsuit after repeatedly complaining about the rankness of her clothing. She kept tripping on the pant legs, causing Oppai to yank her along impatiently. The guards outside the Governor’s cabin opened the doors for them, but Oppai froze unexpectedly as they entered. It wasn’t until she peered around him that she saw why. There were a dozen men in normal clothing clustered in front of the wood conference table. They turned to look at Oppai, but their eyes slid to Ralla. Oppai didn’t seem to have expected them.
“What do you want?” he asked dismissively.
“This couldn’t wait, Governor,” said a tall, portly man with graying temples and a short brown beard. He stood in the middle of the group. “Perhaps your... pet project can remain seated for a few minutes while we discuss more... pressing matters?”
Oppai dragged Ralla towards the couches and gave her a shove. She tried to remain standing, but tripped on her coveralls. Oppai joined the others, all of whom had their noses buried in papers on the table. Ralla only caught occasional word or snippet—“ration situation,” “dire”—but the occasional glances they cut her said more than words ever could.
It seemed too perfect. As if Oppai wanted her to hear what they were saying. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d tried to trick her. But his anger at seeing these men seemed genuine, like a child being denied a cookie.
Eww, she thought, I’m the cookie.
Ralla resisted the urge to dismiss Oppai, or underestimate him even slightly. Even if the situation on this ship was bad, he was still an unpredictable threat.
Oppai stood up straight, then said yet another thing Ralla couldn’t make out. The message was clear, though; the other men filed out of the room post haste. A few eyed her as they left. She knew a lot of e
motions could be faked, but no one could fake fear that well. Certainly not that many of them.
“Clever. I bet your friends think they’re very clever,” Oppai said, looking out at the shipyard outside the windows. From what she could see, it seemed fine.
“Pardon?”
“I’ve had four mines go dark on me these past weeks. Tried contacting them. No response. I don’t suppose you know anything about this?”
Tentatively, Ralla stood and made her way towards the table. Scattered across it were dozens of printouts of graphs and long series of numbers. Ralla took a moment to realize he had asked a question. She held her arms out in front of her, the long sleeves covering her hands.
“How would I know anything about your mines?”
“We gave your people explicit instructions. I said any attack would result in your death. So they did it all quiet. No distress messages, just darkness.”
Ralla felt a wash of panic, but forced it to subside. Why would he have brought her up here to kill her? The cell would have sufficed. The mess would certainly be easier to clean up. His tone made her nervous, though.
“What do you want, Governor? I’ve been locked in that cell for, what, a month? I have no idea. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and honestly, I don’t care.” She played the part of exhausted prisoner, going so far as to droop her shoulders and bow her head.
Head bowed, her eyes darted around the room searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. With nothing to do in her cell but exercise she was toned into the best shape of her life. Ralla had always felt she was a little soft around the edges, but now she could see muscles making new curves. Oppai was bigger, though, and then there were the guards outside. She doubted she’d be able to force Oppai to the balcony before he struggled free or called for help. Patience, Ralla thought. For the moment, he was buying her act.
“Fine. If they’re moving on our mines...”
Our mines, Ralla thought.
“Then we’re going to strike. Now. Tell me where this silo thing is.”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“I’m sure you do.. You’ve obviously been involved in the planning. You've obviously had access to all the data. Would you have me believe that the Princess of the Universalis...”
“I’m not the…”
“You will tell me!” he screamed, and as quickly as the storm brewed in his eyes, it subsided. “I see imprisonment has done nothing for your demeanor, so I have a new plan. Let’s call it... escalation. Your life is about to become much, much worse. And when you’re finally broken, Miss Gattley, you will tell me what I need to know. It’s that easy. In the meantime, I’m going to step up my attacks on your people. I won’t let them just take what is ours. Have fun in the Sewers.”
His smile made her nervous.
On her ship, they called it the Bilge. It was a series of connected compartments that ran the length of the keel: above the multi-layer carbon outer hull, and below the bottom-most decks. Any water that washed in with an arriving sub, or was spilled above decks, eventually, through a series of tubes and channels, ended up down in the Bilge. The water brought with it all the grime and ooze it had picked up along the way. On the Uni, a team of techs kept colonies of microbes to break down the nastiness. Eventually the water was recycled, desalinated, and used as part of the rather sizable amount of fresh water hydrating the Garden.
On the Pop, there was no such program. Worse, it seemed like much of their wastewater emptied here as well. The water, such as it was, made its way from compartment to compartment through holes in the bulkheads towards the stern. Presumably, it was then pumped out into the sea. This left solid waste, along with all manner of other unidentifiable filth, to accumulate slowly in the chambers. She could smell it from two levels up, and they hadn’t even opened the locks to the stairs. Nausea didn’t fully describe her repulsion.
As the soldiers opened the hatch to the dark foulness, she vomited. Two guards had brought her down; neither seemed friendly. If suits existed to protect those unlucky enough to clean the humid nastiness, Ralla wasn’t given one. Instead, she was given a hose half the thickness of her arm and a partial face mask.
Stepping down from the entrance platform, she immediately sank into a knee-high mass of churning, slimy brown waste. She vomited again, sadly making the area no less revolting.
Feeble orange lights hung from the ceiling, casting barely enough light to let her see what she was doing. Of this, she was thankful. By the look of the hastily patched-together bulkhead behind her, it seemed like this was the forward-most compartment behind the shipyard. Looking aft, she could see all the lights, slowly swaying with the ship, stretching into the distance, blurring to a solid line. As she struggled to get some slack, the dull ache in her slowly healing shoulder erupted into piercing pain.
So she stood there, death grip on the hose, shaking in the muck and the stink and the echoing gurgle.
Ralla closed her eyes. Forced away the thoughts of what was pressing against her legs. Forced away the pungent stench, the clammy cold, and the sting of her wound.
Then she was sitting in the thick grass of the Yard floor. The picosun was at its most intense, bright and warm. Spread chaotically before her were papers filled with charts and tables, like what she had seen in Oppai’s office.
No, not there. Here, in the Yard. With...
Thom lay on his back, beside her, hands behind his head looking as relaxed as Ralla had ever seen him. He looked asleep, though she knew he wasn’t. At least, he hadn’t been when this had really happened, which seemed so long before. He had said something right before this moment, but now Ralla had forgotten what it was. The air smelled of cut grass and half a dozen different types of flowers.
The papers were from some committee she was on, and she pushed them away in disgust. This, she had done before. Or was it just then? The sound caused Thom to turn his head and open his eyes, squinting in the bright light. His expression asked the question.
“I can’t do it, Thom. I just can’t.”
“Do what?”
“This. All of this,” she said, her arm sweeping in front of her. “I’m not smart enough for this stuff.”
Thom expression soured.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m not. I know I’m not. Look, Thom, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, I’m not smart like my mom, I’m not born for bureaucracy like my father. It’s OK, I’m OK with that. It’s just...”
“I don’t get where that’s coming from.”
Ralla flashed to homework as a kid, her mother getting upset when she couldn’t figure out a math problem. She remembered how her father would insist she’d be able to understand something, and then when she didn’t get it immediately, he’d gently move on, giving up in everything but the words.
“My dad...”
“Is what? What makes you think he’s good at this?”
“Because he is.”
“Sorry, Ralla. I know I’m coming at this from a way different angle, but I learned a long time ago that parents are nothing but the people who gave us life. They don’t have extraordinary powers. They’re just normal people.”
“Not my parents.”
“Was your dad around a lot when you were a growing up?”
“Some, yeah. He taught me a lot of the things we didn’t learn in school.”
“And when he wasn’t there, how do you know he wasn’t struggling with all of this just as much you are?”
“Well...” Ralla trailed off. Thom had a point. It wasn’t likely, but it wasn’t impossible.
Thom propped himself on one arm.
“Ralla, look at me. You are the smartest person I know. You more capable of figuring things out and doing, well, anything, than anyone I’ve ever met. If you can’t do whatever all this dreck is, no one can. And anyone who seems otherwise is faking.”
She wanted to kiss him then more
than anything. No one had ever told her that before. He was so sincere in his words, so without hesitation in her ability. So much more so than she was.
As much as she wanted to fall on him and kiss him on the lips, she didn’t want anything to ruin this friendship. He meant more to her than anyone. He was such a mess sometimes, but when he wasn’t...
Tomorrow was dinner with Cern, and she realized that more than anything she would rather just stay here with Thom forever. The thought was terrifying, not because of Thom, but what that meant about Cern. Ralla felt confused, but somehow hopeful. She looked back at Thom with a different set of eyes.
Thom had rolled onto his back again, eyes closed, but his words continued to echo in her ears. The papers scattered before her no longer appeared a daunting, insurmountable task. Now they were just a task. Like any other. Maybe challenging, but doable. It was like a switch had been flipped in her brain. She could do this. Why not?
Ralla did something that she hadn’t done the first time. She turned and laid down, her head on Thom’s chest, his arm around her. She could smell him, then, that incredible smell of his.
Above her, the picosun started to fade, its color shifting to a faded weak orange. The warmth on her skin disappeared, the dank washing over her in a rush.
But it didn’t matter. The horror was gone, the stench no longer overwhelming. Ahead of her was a job, nothing more. One that others on this ship had certainly done before her. Ralla activated the hose.
Ten hours later, after the two guards had returned their charge to her cell and after a long detour in an industrial washroom, they sat in their barracks and argued. One was convinced that right before the tiny blond woman had turned on the hose, for a brief moment, she had actually smiled.
They had lost one of the modified transport subs in a raid on a dome the previous week. One of the dome’s patrol subs had lost its port engine, spiraling out of control, and colliding with the transport. Both subs imploded instantly, killing twelve. In agony, Thom wrote to the parents of the dead.
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