by M. D. Cooper
“Nice one!” Keli called out, and gave Goob a high-three.
Crunch tossed his cards onto the table and folded his arms. “Imma sit this one out. Any game that requires a vote like that to get started isn’t one I care to join in on.”
Kelly groaned and gave the sergeant a dismissive wave. “Stars, Crunch, it’s just a name; no one’s doing any of that shit—ha! See what I did there? Besides, none of us have the plumbing for it, anyway.”
“I feel like that’s the only thing keeping you from those kinds of activities, Kelly,” Goob said as he examined his hand. “Not that I have to worry about being the plug-sucker or butt-plug. This hand is killer. Gonna mop the floor with you.”
“Big words, Goob, big words,” Kelly retorted after downing the rest of her beer and signaling a servitor to bring her another. “Care to put some money on that? Loser has to…mop the floor!”
“Wow,” Chase shook his head. “For all that smack talk, your stakes are pretty weak. How’s about loser has to scrub all the Nietzschean logos off Deck 47?”
“Shit, Captain, if that’s the stakes, I’m out, best hand ever or not,” Goob said, laying his cards on the table—face-down, Chase noted.
“Yeah…that’s more than just shitty stakes, that’s a life sentence,” Keli drawled.
“Oh! Well punned,” Kelly proclaimed.
“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week, try the strawberries.”
Goob moaned, a look of sorrow in his eyes. “Don’t talk about strawberries. We finished the last of them yesterday. I nearly cried.”
“You know…” Kelly gave Goob a conspiratorial wink. “I have a private stash of strawberries.”
“Is that what you’re putting up?” Chase asked. “Oh, wait…that’s a euphemism, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Goob pressed. “Is it?”
“Which are you asking about, the strawberries, or the strawberries?”
A wide grin split Goob’s lips. “Both.”
Kelly sat back and shrugged. “Sure, I’ll put all my strawberries up. Why not. I’ll kick all your asses. You’ll be sucking my plug.”
“Not me,” Crunch grunted. “Like I said, I’m out.”
“We know,” Goob said, slapping Crunch on the shoulder. “You’re too much of a wuss to risk sticking your face between Kelly’s asscheeks. Granted, she prolly has teeth back there.”
“Hey! Whoa!” Kelly raised a hand, and wagged a finger in Goob’s face. “You’ve taken the metaphor way too far.”
“Me?” Goob exclaimed. “I didn’t make all the shit and strawberries jokes.”
“You’re right,” Chase said, catching Keli’s eye. “This is the most disgusting version of Snark ever. Where in the stars did you all learn it?”
Everyone at the table glanced at one another and then laughed.
“Who do you think?” Kelly asked between guffaws. “Barne.”
A reminder pinged on Chase’s HUD, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank stars. We’re coming out of the DL in twenty minutes. I want everyone sharp in case we jump into the shit, so clean up this mess and scrub that booze from your bloodstream.”
“Nice one, Captain,” Kelly chuckled. “ ‘Jump into the shit’. You would have done just fine in butt-Snark.”
* * * * *
“You’re practically vibrating,” Heather commented, as Chase stood at the front of the bridge, counting the seconds until the Fury Lance dropped back into normal space.
“Me?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the ship’s captain. “You’ve been pacing just as much as I have. Don’t try to pretend like you’re not on pins and needles, too.”
Heather gave a nonchalant shrug, then grimaced. “OK, you got me. I’m a mess. This has got to have been the longest nine days of my life. I can’t imagine what they’ve gone through; it must be horri—” She stopped abruptly. “Sorry, this is why I’m trying to suppress. If I don’t, I say stupid shit.”
“It’s OK,” Chase told her with a reassuring smile. “We’re all thinking the worst. But we have to remember: this is Rika. Not only has she survived worse, she’s a mech. You’re the toughest people in the galaxy.”
“You’re one, too,” Heather said with a kind smile. “A mech, and tough.”
“Still feel like I’m earning it, here,” Chase replied. “But I suppose that’s a normal feeling for our line of work.”
Heather nodded solemnly. “ ‘Only the dead…”
“…know the end’,” he completed the saying.
He didn’t get a chance to ask, as the view of the Q9 object appeared on the screen.
“Well…that’s unexpected.” Chief Ona was the first to speak. “Are those moons all on the same orbital path?”
“And they’re mining them?” Garth asked.
Heather nodded slowly, peering at the display. “Must be.” She pointed at two locations. “Those are refinery platforms.”
The bridge crew was still discussing the object they were approaching, when Potter interrupted.
“Rika?” Chase asked, turning toward the secondary scan tank, where a small craft had appeared.
the AI replied.
“It’s warm, warm enough for life support to be running,” Chase said as he examined the shuttle’s signature.
“Ona,” Heather strode back to her command seat. “Get us to that thing on the double, but keep us out of view of that nest of Niets down there.”
“Yes ma’am!” Ona all but shouted.
DRAGON’S LAIR
STELLAR DATE: 10.23.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: NMSS Spine of the Stars, approaching Farthing Station
REGION: Epsilon, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
Rika and Leslie crouched inside one of the Spine of the Stars’ landing strut assemblies, made roomy enough for them to fit by the removal of segments of the strut itself.
Sofia had assured them that should the ship get an internal berth—which was likely—the bay would have a cradle, so they wouldn’t need to worry about the strut deploying.
Both women knew that for this segment of their journey, they were entirely at Sofia’s mercy. If the Nietzschean colonel gave them away, there would be little they could do, trapped as they were in the landing assembly.
Rika and Leslie’s plan—which they fervently hoped would work—was to wait until the first round of inspection crews had passed through the ship, and then sneak out onto the docks and secure a ride away from Epsilon.
That was what they’d told Sofia, at least.
Rika and Leslie had agreed that getting the hell out of the ship at the first possible moment was their best bet, regardless of whether or not the inspection crews were still scouring the Spine of the Stars; if for no other reason than that they could barely move in the cramped space.
Rika nodded.
The ship shuddered, and the pair of women felt gravity begin to tug at them.
nds came from outside the ship, indicating they had moved inside a bay.
Leslie giggled, her shoulders shaking.
A dull thud echoed through the hull as the Spine of the Stars settled onto a docking cradle. While they’d still been on approach to Farthing Station, Rika had bored a half-meter hole through the strut cover, through which she sent out a passel of nanoprobes.
Leslie shrugged.
The women fell silent as the probes captured images of a docking bay in near chaos.
Soldiers ranged around the ship, covering all the airlocks, while a colonel marched up to the main entrance, waiting for it to cycle open.
Rika followed after, easing through the narrow opening, feeling like a square peg in a round hole as she twisted to get her GNR’s barrel through, along with her AC9CR.
As Rika clambered onto one of the docking cradle’s struts, Niki made a disgusted noise in her mind.
Rika reached the base of the strut, and slipped through a gap into the service deck below.
Rika confirmed that as she swept her gaze across the space below the dock’s main deck.
A chuckle nearly escaped Rika’s lips.
Her HUD lit up with a location pin, and she saw that Leslie was already at the far side of the service deck, positioned near one of the doors—where Rika assumed she was planting an infil kit, one of the six that Niki had assembled on the ship.
Rika crept carefully across the deck, her weight causing her to move more slowly than Leslie, who massed less than half what she did, even in her armor.
Before she reached the door, the scout had it open and was flashing a location update that showed her already progressing down a long passageway on the far side.
The pair’s immediate goal was simple: get out of the sector that the Spine of the Stars had docked in before any sort of lockdown occurred. Given the number of soldiers that had surrounded the Spine of the Stars, Rika feared that eventuality may happen sooner than later.
She wanted to gather as much intel as possible before they hitched a ride out, but was wondering if they’d have time before the alarms started sounding.
Rika shook her head, and smiled.
Niki said with a soft laugh.
Rika gave a slight shudder.
Rika considered the options laid out before her.
Rika fell silent, following Leslie’s pings as the pair worked their way through the labyrinth of service corridors. After a few minutes, she began to encounter workers and automatons going about their business.
The corridor was wide enough for Rika to avoid collisions, but only just barely. Twice she’d brushed against Niets when they’d shifted too close to avoid. Luckily, both times, the workers were carrying loads, and didn’t slow, apparently guessing that they’d bumped a bulkhead with something they were carrying.
After several minutes, the two women passed through an airlock—wide open on both sides, despite a posted sign indicating that should never happen—and into the next section of the docks. Once there, Leslie sent Rika a quick message.
Rika reached the door, which led to a storage room, and waited for Leslie to open it. Once there were no workers in sight, the door slid aside. After giving
a three-count, Rika carefully slipped through.
Inside were long racks of equipment, everything from ventilation pumps to airlock doors, and even rows of seating along one wall.
Leslie pinged her location, near the seats, and Rika walked over, establishing a tightband connection.
Rika went on to explain the presence of the Harriet carriers, news that caused Leslie to groan.
Niki spoke up.