War in the Fringe - Chris J Pike
Page 59
Fallon’s eyelids twitched, but she schooled her expression. “While, I appreciate your point of view, I think you should press charges. The colonel’s gross—”
“Off the record?” Maureen asked, interrupting the major.
The other woman’s eyes lit up, and she nodded, clearly anticipating something that would aid her cause.
“I think you have some sort of grudge against the colonel—I’ve seen it hinted at in your reports.” Maureen knew that it was the last thing Fallon expected. “Not only that, I see the way you look at him sometimes. Somehow you think that his time aboard that junker ship has smeared some sort of civilian stench on him. He disobeyed orders, sure, and maybe he was wrong, but he played a critical part in averting all-out war with Scipio, and High Command opted not to press any charges against him.”
“Maybe they should have. General Samuel was his mentor, and look what happened there: the colonel betrayed him.”
“General Samuel was wrong,” Grayson said as he stepped into the room.
“Sir,” Fallon said, standing up straight. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“I’m not.” Grayson fixed the major with a steely gaze. “I’m fully prepared to answer any questions you might have about the decisions I made while trying to rescue the general’s daughter and secure the nanotech from the black market. I can tell you exactly why I felt the need to disobey Samuel—one of those reasons being that he ordered his men to fire on his own daughter.”
Fallon’s eyes widened, but Maureen only nodded. Unlike the major, she’d taken the time to befriend Lana on the trip to the Hanoi System. The girl still had nightmares about being shot at by her father’s soldiers.
“However,” Grayson continued, “I’d like to ask that you hold off on launching any sort of official inquiry until we stabilize the situation on Chimin and Battia. Once that’s done, I’m an open book.”
“We laid these questions to rest weeks ago, Colonel,” Maureen added. “You have nothing further to answer for.”
Fallon flashed her a look. “I disagree. Your actions down on Battia were problematic at best, sir.”
“If you want to seek a disciplinary hearing against me, that’s your prerogative, Fallon. I won’t try to stop you. But until we either complete our mission or I’m recalled to Silstrand, I’m going to do the job we were sent out here to do.”
Grayson didn’t raise his voice as he spoke, but it certainly carried a deadly menace.
“Yes, sir. Thank you for your time, Colonel. Permission to return to my duties?”
“Yes, Major.” Grayson chewed out the words.
Fallon nodded and slipped past Grayson and out into the corridor.
“Don’t worry. I’ve done nothing wrong, and the SSF—not to mention Tanis and the ISF—have my back. Fallon wants to stretch her wings, push the boundaries, but she performs her duties well. She just needs to let this go.”
Maureen sighed. “I’m so sorry, Colonel. You don’t deserve her accusations.”
Despite having his own XO gunning for him, she could see that Grayson wasn’t letting it get to him—something that impressed her even further.
“We have a job to do, Commander. Let’s do it. To be frank, stabilizing this system is what I’m interested in. What’s on my mind is whether or not the person we need for the job isn’t ready for it—or even wants it to begin with.”
“Let’s hope you can get them ready in time, then.”
“Agreed and welcome back.” Grayson gripped her shoulder lightly. “I’m glad to see you standing in one piece again—and with all your teeth!”
Maureen laughed. “I’ll be happy when I can eat a toasted hoagie again.”
“Pardon?” Grayson asked as he followed her out of the medbay. “Why in the stars would you toast a hoagie? Now that’s grounds for an inquiry.”
His easy manner put her at ease, and Maureen just laughed all the more.
BYE ASSHOLE
STELLAR DATE: 12.22.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Solidarity, Starlight Station, Dante
REGION: Dante Velorum System, Fringe
Despite his human’s never-ending insistence that he leave the ship, Mr. Fizzle Pop liked the freighter-whatever-it-was-called and didn’t want to go. Which meant, after he’d created a distraction for those men, he went to find a snack.
In his infinite wisdom, he’d tricked the two-legged angry men in the escape pod and toyed with them a little bit. It wasn’t as much fun as a ball of yarn, but it was something to do.
Maybe it was mean to continually start and end the launch sequence for the escape pod, but it was almost as much fun as playing with the aforementioned yarn, so he did it a few more times before becoming bored.
Even though he now understood that he could talk to his humans anywhere over the Link thing they had given him, it never occurred to the cat that the humans he’d trapped could do the same thing.
Luckily for him, the two men had agreed not to call for help until they’d exhausted all options—neither wanted to be the laughing stock of the fleet for being trapped by an abomination of a talking cat.
And so, Mr. Fizzle Pop sauntered through the ship, pausing a few times to lick down the annoying bit of fur on his right haunch that always itched. Though humans may have thought his progress to be slow, he made good cat-time to the kitchen, where he carefully pulled open the chiller.
Climbing inside, he managed to push the remaining half of the cake Ricket had made a few sleeps ago onto the floor. The cover popped off and he ate as much as he could manage before repeating the process with a bottle of milk that he bit until it started leaking.
Never humans near when you need them, he grumbled to himself.
Now that he was sated, Mr. Fizzle Pop started to consider which of his favorite warm places he would visit for a little nap. He never tired of food, but what he really loved to do was sleep—at least sixteen, sometimes twenty hours a day. So long as the humans didn’t disturb him. If he was really tired, he might even go twenty-two, which was why he had to eat so much.
It wasn’t his fault he hibernated daily and needed to stock up.
He strolled through the ship, once again pausing here and there to sniff at interesting things. At one point, he saw The Mouse, but decided that going after his nemesis was best done when he didn’t have half a cake working its way through him.
He reached the bridge, and suddenly remembered that his humans weren’t aboard. That meant his favorite warm spot, also known as Ricket’s lap, wasn’t available.
A glance back down the corridor was all the consideration he gave to going to the hot room at the back of the ship.
“TOO FAR,” he said to himself before jumping up on the pilot’s chair.
The memory of Ricket’s warm lap would have to do.
He was fast asleep when something came into his mind, causing his ears to twitch with annoyance.
He ignored it, ears twitching again.
He sighed. It was Kylie. She would probably keep invading his sleep until he responded. The human gave a good scratch behind the ears, but sometimes pet too hard and had earned a little hand-bite from him more often than not.
Even so, Mr. Fizzle Pop had decided that he liked her, even if she did smell like burnt coffee all the time.
The cat’s ears flattened against his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Ricket was his favorite next to Bubbs. He was so fond of her, he’d peed in her shoes to remind her of him.
Mr. Fizzle Pop lifted his head up with interest, and his tail swished side to side.
Kylie sighed and sounded relieved, but Mr. Fizzle Pop wasn’t sure why. He always made sure to make pleasant conversation.
Mr. Fizzle Pop listened as he stretched and hopped down from the chair. He trotted through the ship while holding his head and tail high. On the way, he stopped to snack on a piece of food he saw on the deck near the escape pod. It turned out to only be lint, but he ate it anyway.
Then, after licking that bit of fur back into place again, he stretched up to look at the screen that showed the interior of the pod.
“HI,” he said as warmly as possible, which wasn’t very warm at all.
“Hey, kitty, niiiiiice kitty,” one of the humans said, making silly faces that amused Fizzle Pop to no end.
The other only sneered and raised a fist. “I’m going to turn you into a hat, you stupid cat.”
Mr. Fizzle Pop tapped a claw on the screen, trying to see if they’d scurry around like fish in a tank, then wondered if they could get a fish tank on the ship. It had been so long since he’d caught any fresh fish.
Good times.
Both of the humans began yelling, and he couldn’t make out the squawky human language well enough to understand what they were saying anymore.
After listening for a minute, Mr. Fizzle Pop did manage to make out a few words and decided that he didn’t like them much at all. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the two humans flailing about in the pod.
And then a thought dawned on him. Kylie had explained that they weren’t sneaking anymore; it was time for the hunt. Which meant he didn’t need to keep these two captive.
Bubbs had taught him—multiple times, because she said he never listened—how to activate escape pods. It was simple. With humans inside, and the door closed, all he needed to do was tap one green button, and then a red one on the screen.
“BYE BYE ASSHOLES.” Mr. Fizzle Pop pressed the buttons in sequence and then gave the screen a toothy grin as the pod ejected from the ship.
He began to walk toward the airlock, when the smell of the cake and cream hit his nostrils.
Maybe just a quick snack.
THE ACE SHOT
STELLAR DATE: 12.22.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: The Star Strand, Dante
REGION: Dante Velorum System, Fringe
Paul stood at the window of the elevator car and watched the glow of the blast below them fade, wondering how many people had died in the explosion.
“We need you to make a statement,” Janice said from behind him. “Speak to the remains of our fleet and tell them that this was the action of AIs and that we need to stand with Orion, that it’ll help us achieve all our goals.”
“They don’t help us achieve our goals.” He glanced over at where General Levin stood with three of his soldiers, and lowered his voice. “We help them achieve theirs. They have mods, some of them even have AIs.”
“A means to an end,” Janice hissed. “They can crush Silstrand and its allies. On our own, the Revolution doesn’t stand a chance!”
“And you believe them over me? When did you lose your way, Janice? When did you decide your heart was loyal to someone other than our family?”
General Levin gave a rueful laugh as he approached. “You should worry about mods. Like the ones that allow me to hear you from over here. Truth of the matter is, you don’t have a choice. If you won’t make the statement, I’ll have Alberta here kill you, and Janice will make it. So, if you want to live out the rest of your natural life, you’ll do what I say.”
Alberta pushed the butt of her weapon into Paul’s back for emphasis.
Paul bit his lip. “And the fact that there’s no demonstration? I don’t have the virus. So far as I can tell, Kylie killed Raynes, and his creation is gone.”
“Paul!” Janice hissed, giving him a wide-eyed expression.
Levin glared at the Rhoads couple. “I didn’t come all this way to fail because you can’t manage to transport a simple canister. Don’t you know how it was made? I assume your people sent notes and updates as to how it was manufactured and incubated?”
“We have some.” Janice nodded eagerly. “The process was perfected at Chimin in the Hanoi System. They may have more details there.”
“My people will review what you have,” Levin replied before he turned to gaze out the car’s window as they rose above ash-filled clouds below. “If not, we’ll go to the Hanoi System and find out what they know. It’ll at least buy you time with Garza. You won’t want to find out what failing him brings about.”
Paul ground his teeth as he turned to look at his wife and guards. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I? When my own people, my own wife, have turned against me.”
“It’s for our own good, Paul. You’ll see,” Janice coaxed. “You’ll see, once we’re settled and have everything we want, how good this all is.”
“What I wanted was to be free of this mess,” Paul admitted. “That’s what I wanted.”
No one spoke for a few minutes, and Paul turned his gaze to the stars, looking out at the points of light high above, which he knew to be his fleet. There was also another grouping of ships over a higher latitude that he knew to be the Orion vessels. Seven cruisers, from the reports he’d received. Not a match for his fleet, but he suspected that the Orion Guard may have more nearby.
“Should I send the message now?” Paul finally asked.
Levin’s eyes narrowed. “No. We’ll do it from my ship. Then we can be sure nothing is sent that we don’t agree with. Honestly, Paul, I expected more from you. I’m a little disappointed.”
Janice sneered, her gaze raking across Paul as he lowered himself into a seat. “He’s lost his will to fight,” Janice said, sounding both sad and disgusted.
The elevator car reached the station, and the group turned from the window, walking toward the debarkation airlock.
During the ride up, the car had matched pressure with the station, making the airlock a formality, but once Drake opened the inner door, the ‘Pressure Imbalance’ light lit up, stopping the outer door from opening as well.
“I’m surprised this ancient pile of trash is still working at all,” Levin muttered as the group filed into the airlock. The inner door closed, sealing them in as they waited for the lock to match pressure with the station.
After half a minute, during which Paul didn’t detect any pressure change—usually his ears popped in airlocks—the ‘Pressure Imbalance’ light went out, but the door still didn’t open.
Levin flipped the screen to a manual override mode and hit the emergency open button. “I have half a mind to shoot this thing down,” he muttered as the door began to cycle open.
The group was readying themselves to exit, when the door suddenly slid shut.
Paul and Janice exchanged a look, but Paul quickly glanced away.
Levin slammed his hand into the override again, and the door opened a crack, only to close again.
“This is ridiculous!” he fumed, and hit the override once more.
The same process repeated three times until Paul couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re never getting out of here at this rate.” He tried to regain his
composure as Levin shot him a dark look. He coughed and raised his hands. “Just stating the obvious. Something is clearly wrong with the door, that’s all.”
“I’m on with station command,” Alberta said. “They aren’t registering anything wrong with the door, but they said it’s pressure sensitive. It won’t crush a person pushing through.”
Levin eyed the door. “And do they really think we’re gonna trust anything to work the way it should on this station?”
Janice elbowed Drake and gestured toward the outer door. “When he opens it, push it all the way over.”
Drake nodded hastily, and when Levin hit the button, he wedged his hands in before the door closed and forced it to slide into the bulkhead.
Once it was open all the way, Paul barely bothered suppressing a laugh when they saw what the source of their trouble had been.
“It’s a…cat,” Janice said.
Paul thought it was a rather adorable one, at that—though it did seem a bit put out as it sat back on its haunches and glared at them, eyes narrowed, tail curled around its front paws. The little thing was even wearing a collar with a bell.
“Looks like someone’s pet got loose,” Paul commented.
Janice asked, “Is it purring?”
“Coincidence,” Alberta muttered. “Cats can’t work airlock controls. Time to move, General, people are coming up the strand from the explosion. No idea if they’re clean or covered with fallout, so we should get moving.”
“My ship is in bay 82-201. Let’s go.” The general tried to sidestep the cat, but it ran in front of him, nearly tripping the man. He moved to the left and then the right. Both times, the cat started weaving between his legs. “What a little troublemaker you are!”
The cat blinked up at him. “MEOW. MOO.”
Janice glanced at Paul. “Did…the cat just…say ‘moo’?”
Paul shrugged. He wasn’t interested in discussing anything with her at present, especially not this rather amusing cat.