Guano nodded firmly. “Right, well, Captain, you got me out of Miramar, so I guess I’m at your disposal.”
“Technically,” said Mattis, as a faint hum began to fill the air. He raised his finger skyward. “You’re at her disposal.”
Guano’s eyes followed his upward to see a descending shuttle, the underside still glowing hot from the speed of reentry, as it dropped down toward them, retrothrusters firing to break its fall. The thrust kicked up a wave of dust and debris, making Guano shield her face with her arm.
When the noise of reentry died down, a woman stepped briskly out of the shuttle. Her captain’s uniform was inhumanly tidy despite the dusty, sweltering air swirling around it, her hair was pulled into a severe bun, and her blinking left wrist belied a portable computer. “Good morning,” she chirped. Even before hearing the voice, Guano knew it could only be Captain Spears.
A flashy, urgent entrance for a nominally stoic, reserved Brit. What the hell was going on?
“Good morning,” Mattis returned, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Great to see you, Captain.”
“And you as well,” Spears said, accepting the handshake with notable warmth. Then she turned to Guano. “Lieutenant Corrick.”
“Captain Spears.” She wasn’t exactly sure what to say. She managed a halting, “It’s good to be here.”
Spears smiled. “Well, with all the pleasantries out of the way, let’s get going. You better believe we have a jolly great lot of work to do, eh Mattis?”
Guano saw Mattis very subtly wink at the federal investigator, then turn back to Spears. “Of course. Oh, before I forget…” Mattis reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small thermos. “It’s an herbal tea, but I think you’ll like it.”
“Bully for you,” said Spears, and then beckoned all of them aboard.
Guano had to pinch herself. How had she gone from her cell to an APC to liberty to orbit in just a few minutes? But she determined to put it all out of her mind. She followed Mattis aboard the ship, taking a seat opposite the the blonde fed. Guano stuck out her hand. “And you?”
“Special Agent Denelle Blair.” She took the offered hand gingerly, looking distinctly uneasy, glancing up at the roof as though expecting it to fall in.
“Never been off-world before?” asked Guano.
“Nope. Never. This is my first time. I, uh, actually applied for a transfer to the intergalactic branch, but…” The shuttle rumbled as it took off, lifting them into the sky. Blair gripped her restraints tightly, about to throw up. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Motion sickness bags should be below your seat,” said Guano.
The shuttle vibrated as it climbed, passing through the upper atmosphere. Guano had flown enough exoatmospheric missions to almost sense, in a way, where the ship was relative to Earth. Her pilot’s instinct informing her more than any sensors or gauges.
Damn she missed flying.
She tried to catch Mattis’s eye, but he seemed focused on Spears, his voice raised to shout over the rumble of the shuttle. “Surprised you could get flight clearance with the Goalkeeper lockdown. And in the middle of all this, no less.”
“Blackwood arranged it,” Spears shouted back. “That woman is magic.”
Guano had seen not Blackwood in action, but could hardly doubt that claim. She tried again to catch Mattis’s eyes, but nothing came of her efforts, so she gave up.
“Okay,” said Spears, leaning forward in her seat, testing the limits of her restraints. As if she had willed it so, the pressure and rumble of takeoff suddenly evened out into the silent weightlessness of space, and she was able to return to her characteristic calm efficiency without missing a beat. “With introductions out of the way, I’m glad you could all make it. We have a very important job to do, and we’re going to need everyone in this ship in order to accomplish that. Thank you for coming.”
Guano smiled wryly. “I didn’t exactly have much choice, Captain.”
“True.” Spears’s face was a grim mask. “But I thank you all the same. I need your help to find the Aerostar.” She looked to Mattis. “And yours as well.”
“What’s an Aerostar?” asked Guano.
“It’s a ship,” said Spears, patiently. “Which we’re tracking down.”
Oh. Right. The hunting dog part. “Yeah. Okay. The Aerostar. Got it.”
A moment of silence. Nobody asked the obvious question, so Guano went for it: “Why?”
Spears pursed her lips. “Because,” she said, “when we analyzed the wreckage of the USS Stennis, there was something missing. A piece of it had been taken. A review of the flight recorders of nearby strike craft and an analysis of radar logs showed that the Aerostar had performed some rudimentary salvage in the wake of that battle. That piece is something I believe to be extremely important for securing ourselves against further attacks—whether from without, or within.”
Guano narrowed her eyes. “A piece of wreckage from the Stennis? How is that important?”
“That,” said Spears, “will depend on what the piece contains. I strongly suspect it’s the Stennis’s main backup computer.”
“And how does that help us?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Spears, with a sigh. “All I know is that it was enough to have the Reardons execute a Z-space translation away about two hours after they picked it up—when we passed over their ship with a routine radar scan and it activated. That would have been just long enough to recover the computer, examine it, and see what was inside—then panic when we accidentally scanned it. And if they want what’s on the computer that desperately, then I want it too.”
“Okay,” said Mattis. “Well, the Aerostar is the property of Sammy and Harry Reardon. They’re resourceful, and they have more first-hand experience with the Avenir than anyone else in the galaxy. If we want to understand the Avenir—and, especially, Spectre—we need them first.”
Guano nodded. “Right.” She hesitated, but steeled herself to continue. It was important. “And… also you need to understand what happened to me, right, Captain Spears?”
“That’s right,” said Spears, obviously aware Mattis was sitting right there.
“And how do you intend to do that?” It sounded much bolder than Guano felt. Fake it till you make it.
“Well,” said Spears, thoughtfully, “first, we’re going to examine your brain.”
“Wait, you mean, like, surgically?”
Spears considered. “If necessary. For now, we’ll hold off on that. But I’m warning you, it may be in the cards.”
“Sounds great,” said Guano, grimacing.
Spears stared her down. “If you want me to return the shuttle to Miramar, I can arrange that.”
Guano threw up her hands. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m good. Really.”
“Good,” said Spears, settling back into her seat. “Because I haven’t even given you the bad news yet.”
Guano was about to ask what that was, exactly, but Blair suddenly reached under her chair, scrambling awkwardly, before withdrawing a red paper bag, opening it, and barfing up what Guano presumed was her breakfast.
“Oh, that’s just great,” Guano, settling back into her chair. “Is it worse than the knowledge that we have about three quarters of a shuttle ride left with a space-sick person?” Again with the bravado. But she wasn’t embarrassed… Maybe she was nearly herself again?
“Believe me,” said Spears, casually reaching over and patting Blair on the back. “If this is the worst thing that happens to you today, you’ll be thankful.”
Lovely.
Chapter Ten
Shuttle
Hangar Bay
HMS Caernarvon
Low Earth Orbit
Mattis felt vaguely sympathetic for Blair as she hacked up her guts for the rest of the trip, the airsickness bag practically attached to her green face. His own space sickness had been well and truly trained out of him by the academy, but the notion that someone might not have had the benefits of that exper
ience hadn’t even occurred to him.
“You okay there, Agent Blair?”
Blair kept her head high, valiantly trying to mask her discomfort. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice muffled by the bag. “I think I’m out of stuff to throw up. So I’m fine. Everything… is… fine.”
“Very well. Just so you know, if you do, the bags are—”
“Yup. I know.”
The shuttle vibrated slightly and Mattis kept an eye on Blair as a fresh wave hit her. He turned slightly back to Spears. “Kids.”
“Let’s just focus on getting to the Caernarvon, shall we?” Spears responded, smiling kindly toward the space sick youngster. “Do try to keep calm and carry on, my dear. We’re used to it, but this mustn’t be easy for a civilian.”
“I’m not a civilian,” managed Blair, her voice thin and raspy, muffled by the bag. “I’m a federal agent.”
“That’s a civilian in the eyes of the military,” Mattis chuckled. “Sorry.”
Blair glared at him. “We prefer the term sworn vs non-sworn,” she said, but didn’t look up to pushing the point.
“Fair enough,” Mattis said. No need to kick her while she was down.
“Here,” said Guano. “Old pilot’s trick. Clench your toes inside your shoes. It’ll help distract you.”
The rest of the journey was filled with the spectacle of Blair, alternating between vomiting, insisting she was fine, then vomiting again whenever the shuttle changed course, accelerated, decelerated, or otherwise moved in any way. For Mattis, it was in some ways satisfying to see her—the woman who had interrogated him and implied he’d shot the President—with her face ashen, slave to a paper bag. But, after all, she was just a kid. And they were on the same side now.
Eventually, to the relief of all, the shuttle docked at the HMS Caernarvon, and a clipped British voice announced their arrival. The shuttle doors opened and the lingering, bitter smell of sick began to dissipate.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” asked Mattis, formally.
“Granted. To all of you.” Spears gave Blair another motherly pat on the back. “Go see the ship’s doctor for some cortrazoamine stabilizer,” she said. “It’ll make you feel tired as the dickens, but it does wonders for the inner ear.”
“Sure,” said Blair, attempting to stand, but abruptly halted by Spears’s hand on her shoulder.
“One thing, Special Agent Blair,” Spears said, her gentle sick-room voice instantly hardening with authority. “This is the HMS Caernarvon. A Royal Navy vessel. More critically, this is my ship. And aboard my ship, I am to be addressed always as Captain Spears, Captain, or Ma’am. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Captain,” said Blair, obviously ashen, her eyes closed.
Spears smiled curtly. “Very well. Off you go, then. Infirmary. Cortrazoamine stabilizer. Double time.”
Mattis had to hand it to Blair that she did attempt to hold her head high with her last shred of dignity as she hobbled off, bent double, in double time. He shook his head knowingly at Spears. “Landlubbers, what can I say?”
“Oh, acutely,” said Spears, unclipping herself and standing briskly. “Although—back in the submarine service—we used to call them boat people. Or, less flatteringly, targets.”
For just a moment, they indulged in the shared nostalgia. Those first days of recruitment for the space-fleet—a breathless time; a wild journey into the unknown. With no precedent to follow, the American Navy had filled their ranks with the surface fleet, and the Royal Navy had drawn from their submarine service. Standing casually on the landing bay of the Caernarvon now, it seemed like another life.
“Right,” Mattis said. “We should get to work, Captain.”
Spears nodded agreeably. “This way, then.”
Lieutenant Corrick stood as well, uncharacteristically silent. The three of them exited the shuttle together. A pair of Marines stood at attention on the base of the ramp.
“HMS Caernarvon, arriving.”
Spears gave them all a crisp salute. “So,” she said, as she led the way up the ramp. “Lieutenant Corrick. You’ve been quiet since we broke atmosphere.”
Corrick seemed uncomfortable. Mattis knew he must be part of the cause, but he just didn’t know how to interact with the girl. Her very presence was a constant reminder of Chuck. Of the absence of Chuck. “Yes, Captain,” she began hesitantly. “I just… well. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever be back onboard a navy ship. Not even this morning when I got up. Things are happening so quickly.”
Mattis regarded her cautiously. “And how do you feel?” he asked. “No more… urges?”
Corrick shook her head firmly. “No. Whatever it was, it’s gone.”
Mattis took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eyes. “You realize that my grandson Jack was—” he cleared his throat. “Your actions put civilian lives—“ his voice faltered again. He shook his head. No, this wasn’t the time. “We’ll talk about this,” he said simply.
A tense silence hung in the air. Spears watched Mattis closely, her lips pursed. Corrick looked determinedly at the floor. Mattis let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I—I think I know that they weren’t your actions.”
“You think?” asked Spears, cautiously. “Jack, I told you…”
He was letting his anger—his damned emotions—get the better of him. He nodded curtly. “I know it.”
Satisfied, Spears snapped back into military mode and nodded to Corrick. “Dismissed, Lieutenant. Report to sickbay and chase up our civilian—” she managed a slight smile. “Sworn or unsworn. And make sure they’re all right. Sharpish, if you please.”
“Aye, Ma’am.” Corrick saluted, then turned and rushed through the bay doors.
Spears signaled for the two of her Marines to follow her. The way they moved suggested that Spears had arranged it in advance.
“Only two for an escort?” asked Mattis. “You know what she’s capable of.”
Spears shrugged faintly. “I’m of two minds about it, honestly. One part of me says either we trust her or we don’t. Another part of me—the smarter, older, wiser part of me—says trust, but verify. Ultimately, the guards are there for her peace of mind as well as mine. Believe me, Jack. Regardless of if its her fault or not, ultimately the fact remains: if our pilot friend gives me even the slightest sign that she is being… affected… I will have her arrested and tossed into a dark hole from which she will not emerge.” She pointedly rested her hand on her sidearm. “Failing that, I’ll give her two in the chest and one in the head.”
Mattis had absolutely no doubt she would. “Okay.” He paused. “And why’s the FBI agent here? Not just to puke her guts out, I hope?”
“Oh, no,” said Spears. “I reviewed her file. Recently declined for a promotion. Probably wants to prove herself.” She smiled softly. “A young up-and-comer, with a chip on her shoulder and willing to jump head first into something she doesn’t understand… reminds me of myself, in a way, I suppose.” Spears clicked her tongue. “Point is, she wanted to come, so I figured that with where we were going and what we were doing, we could use a bit of legal muscle. Lawyers are too slow; sometimes you just need a civilian on hand, yes?”
Mattis narrowed his eyes. “You sound like you’re going to somewhere like Chrysalis,” he said. Then the realization hit him. “Oh God. You are going to Chrysalis.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Spears innocently. “However, the truth is there are indeed a few contacts on Chrysalis I might potentially want to leverage. Plus, it’s a known place of business for the Reardons, and they trust you, so…” she tapped her nose. “But again, I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to.” Mattis grunted and ran his hand over his head. “I can never seem to escape that place…”
Spears smiled. “Well, bully for familiar stomping grounds, eh?”
He opened his mouth to say something sarcastic and biting, but before he could, the General Quarters alarm sounded throughout the ship.
/> Mattis and Spears exchanged a wide-eyed look, then both hurried to the core of the ship, feet pounding on the metal deck as the alarm wailed all around them.
“Talk to me, Blackwood,” said Spears, touching her wrist computer. “What’s happening?”
“It’s Goalkeeper,” said Blackwood, her normally unflappably calm voice strained. “Earth’s planetary defense grid. It has identified us as a threat and is locking us up.”
“Prep the ship for Z-space translation,” Spears commanded, picking up the pace. “I’m on my way.”
Mattis could not believe for one second that Goalkeeper, his new command, had targeted them by accident.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
Spears opened her mouth to reply, but no answer came. Instead, she broke into a run, Mattis hot on her heels.
Chapter Eleven
Bridge
HMS Caernarvon
Low Earth Orbit
Mattis sprinted after Spears as she made her way into the bridge—a place so much like his old commands, and yet so different. The same monitors and screens arranged in different positions. Disorienting. He wheezed, coming to a stop to the left of the Captain’s chair.
“Captain on the bridge!” said one of the junior officers. He had to remind himself that the guy wasn’t talking about him.
“Okay,” said Spears, settling into her command chair. She barely seemed out of breath. “Tell me what we have.”
Blackwood pointed to one of the monitors. “Goalkeeper’s powering up, but they’re painting us with their targeting radars. They haven’t begun to shoot yet because their weapons are still on lockdown, but this isn’t good.”
The Last Strike: Book 5 of The Last War Series Page 6