“Can you figure out the missiles’ trajectory?”
“If I had a computer, it would be a snap,” the Neptunian said. “Eyeballing it like this and crunching the numbers with my tablet, not so much. The missiles do seem to be traveling directly for Neptune, though.”
“Heading for the rings?” asked Jon.
“Maybe.”
“Search around Neptune. Try to find the super-ship. What we’re witnessing…it must be part of a battle.”
“Four or five ships aren’t much compared to what the Solar League had earlier,” Da Vinci said.
“True,” Jon said quietly.
The seconds ticked away until fifteen minutes had passed.
Jon stood. He needed advice about what to do next. The only person he could think about asking was the mentalist.
“Da Vinci.”
The little Neptunian looked up.
“Send a runner to find me if anything interesting happens. I’m going to find the mentalist. Do you have any idea where she is?”
The rat-faced man shook his head.
Jon thought she might be up at the main command deck. He shoved off, sailing toward the auxiliary exit.
They weren’t using any kind of comm devices so that the signals didn’t give them away. If an alien ship was out there, it might be scanning everything. Until they knew more about the alien sensors, it seemed wisest to play this cautiously.
-4-
Jon propelled himself along the corridors, using float-rails to gain speed. He had a knack for zero-G maneuvering, but he wasn’t as good as some of the old-timers were.
He passed a soldier here and there. He even spied the Centurion in the distance. It bothered him that he feared running across the first sergeant. Would Stark really try to kill him?
That was a distinct possibility. Jon was still surprised he’d survived the encounter with the three dinosaurs. Should he really arrange for bodyguard as the Centurion had suggested?
He glanced back, almost stopping to go speak with the Centurion. They needed to search every cranny of the battleship just in case some Solar League personnel had survived. Enemy combatants could prove dangerous, and possibly at the worst moment.
Instead of stopping, Jon continued sailing through the corridors faster and faster, enjoying the feeling.
He pondered what to make of Da Vinci. Was the little tech as unsavory as he pretended?
The colonel had talked to him about mercenary units. In the dim past before the Space Age, humanity had fought constantly against others on Earth. One of the nation-states doing a lot of fighting had been France. According to the colonel, the French had something called the French Foreign Legion, which had been a mercenary outfit, recruited from the four corners of the world. Some of the recruits had been gentlemen adventurers. Some had been criminals running from the law. Some had been hunted soldiers from one losing war or another. Some just needed a job to put food in their bellies. The ancient Foreign Legion had been a place to find second chances. Men could start over. It didn’t matter who one had been, but who one was now.
Jon had been a gang member. Da Vinci had been an embezzler. The Old Man had run from Earth, on the lam from the GSB. Colonel Graham had escaped from the Jupiter System when the Solar League had conquered it. Some of the men claimed Graham had been a politician who had counseled war to the death with the Solar League—only the colonel had fled before the Jupiter System military had died to the last unit.
People needed second chances. The chaplain said Christ Spaceman had come to Earth in order to give humans who begged God a second chance at life.
The regiment had gained a second chance out here in the Neptune System. Maybe this was even a third chance on the battleship.
Can I atone for losing the colonel?
As Jon sailed through the empty corridors, he determined to become the best mercenary commander that ever ran a regiment. He would devote his life to paying the colonel back for lifting him from the squalor of the New London Dome. He would pay it forward because he didn’t know how to do it any other way. The soldiers under his command deserved his very best—and he had to make sure that his best was good enough to win.
Jon grabbed a rail to slow his progress as he drifted toward the frozen double hatch that led to the command deck. He didn’t want to go in there. He could smell the rotting flesh from here. They were going to have to do something about that soon.
He cupped his mouth, using his hands as a megaphone. “Gloria! Are you in there?”
“Go away,” she shouted from inside the command deck.
Jon scowled. What was the mentalist doing in a room full of dead people?
“I need to talk to you,” he called.
“What part of ‘go away’ don’t you understand?”
“The sergeants came to me. I may be under a death sentence if I don’t perform. I need some advice.”
There was no answer.
“Gloria!” he shouted.
The mentalist poked her head out from between the two frozen hatches.
“What’s wrong with you?” she said.
He could see her haunted look, the trembling of her features. Something seemed wrong with her.
“Get out of there,” he said.
“You’re not my teacher!”
“I never said I was, but get out of there anyway.”
“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?” she demanded.
Jon thought about that. “I’m the captain of this ship,” he said.
“You?”
“That’s right. I run the regiment. The regiment controls the ship. That makes me the captain.”
“Your precious regiment doesn’t run anything. You’re hyenas snarling over the scraps.”
“What’s gotten into you?”
She floated into an up-and-down position, turning her head to look back into the command deck. “The aliens killed us,” she said in a muffled voice.
“Why don’t you come out here where I can hear you?”
Her head whipped around, and he thought she might berate him again. Instead, she used both hands, grabbing the edges of the hatches, and shoving off.
“Catch me,” she said, as she sailed toward him.
He grabbed an arm. She tugged it free from him and grabbed his face, pulling herself closer, kissing him on the lips.
Was he supposed to pull away in shock and surprise? If so, she didn’t know much about the lower-level New London people. Or mercenary soldiers. He grabbed her face, kissing her back.
“You brute,” she said, tearing away. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”
He grinned at her.
“I miscalculated,” she said, while rubbing her lips as if to get any cooties off them.
“What did you think I’d do if you kissed me?” he asked.
She shrugged.
His BS meter began to ping. He peered at the frozen hatches, remembering the dead that lay beyond.
“I get it,” he said. “You got depressed. So, you decided to punish yourself. You wandered around the corpses and started out by feeling sorry for them, but ended up being sorry for yourself. You’d gotten yourself into a good funk by the time I showed up. You wanted some good honest human contact to make you feel human again, instead of like a ghoul. So you kissed me, and you hoped to make me uncomfortable. What you didn’t take into account is that I’m a soldier. Soldiers like girls,” he said with a wink.
“I miscalculated indeed,” she said, studying him oddly. “And I think you just did too. Don’t you know you’re supposed to keep your secrets?”
“What’s my secret?”
“You’re a thinker,” she said. “I wonder if that’s what your colonel saw in you.”
“I don’t know what he saw.”
“I bet you do know. He chose you for a reason, back when he had you trade places with him. I’m beginning to see that.”
“Look,” Jon said. “We’ve got trouble.”
“I agree with
that.”
Jon shook his head. “I’m not talking about the aliens, but the regiment, what’s left of it. First Sergeant Stark doesn’t like me. He didn’t agree with the others’ decision to let me live.”
“Tell me what happened,” she said.
As he did, he observed how she drank in the details, beginning to wonder why he trusted her.
“It sounds as if you handled the situation as well as could be expected,” she said. “Besides, that’s not my area of expertise. I’m a mentalist. Emotions are harder to weigh and objectify. I’m better at manipulating facts.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I’ve got a teleoptic sensor working, by the way.”
“You do? Then what are we doing out here? Let’s get to the auxiliary station and figure out what’s happening.”
“Da Vinci spotted five SLN warships.”
“Who?”
“Come on,” he said, grabbing an arm, tugging her. “Let’s get back to auxiliary control. You can see for yourself. I’ll fill you in as we go.”
“Good idea,” she said.
Jon grabbed a float-rail as he began to speak, wondering if the Martian was going to end up being his confidante. The colonel had told him before that a commander needed one. What would the sergeants, especially Stark, think about him confiding in the mentalist?
He didn’t even want to think about that one yet.
-5-
Jon, Gloria and Da Vinci stared at the auxiliary station’s main screen. The other two techs worked on different pieces of equipment. Outside the hatch, two big soldiers floated at guard.
Jon had asked the soldiers about being here.
“The Centurion sent us, sir,” the bigger guard had explained. “He said no one is supposed to enter auxiliary control unless you give the okay. I’m supposed to tell you, sir. By that, the Centurion means no one at all, no exceptions, including him.”
“I see,” Jon had said. “Carry on.” The Centurion no doubt wanted to make sure the first sergeant didn’t barge in and kill Jon.
“I may have found your alien vessel, sir,” the little Neptunian said.
Jon’s focus returned to the here and now.
Da Vinci’s twitchy fingers manipulated the sensor panel, enlarging the image on the main screen to focus on Neptune’s faint rings.
“Do you see it?” the Neptunian asked.
“Not yet,” Jon admitted.
“How about you, little girl?” asked Da Vinci.
“I am a Martian mentalist,” Gloria said in a cold voice. “Do you even know what that means?”
“I read,” Da Vinci said. “I guess you figure being a mentalist makes you a mighty muck, huh?”
“You will address me with respect,” she said.
“Sure, lady—”
“Tech Corporal Da Vinci,” Jon said softly. “You will heed the mentalist’s instructions.”
Da Vinci hesitated a moment, finally nodding. “Sure, Mentalist, I got it. You’re a brain, a big brain. And everyone likes stomping on the Neptunian. Everyone figures they know more than me.”
“What about the alien vessel?” Jon asked.
Da Vinci muttered under his breath as he made adjustments by tapping various coded lights on a panel.
“There, chief—sir,” the Neptunian said. “Look at the dark area near the exact middle of the rings.”
Even with the zoom-enlargement, the vessel appeared tiny. The fact that they could see anything meant the ship was huge. On the screen, Jon saw a dark hull amid the faint rings, with part of giant Neptune as background.
“Is that the alien ship?” Jon asked.
“Could be, sir,” Da Vinci said. “It’s big enough for your alien vessel. But it doesn’t seem to be doing anything, even with them missiles barreling down its throat.”
“Quit talking for a second,” Gloria said. “Let me consider this.”
Da Vinci glanced at her sidelong, beginning to tap his fingertips against each other. It seemed to take an effort on his part to remain silent.
“This takes my breath away,” Gloria soon said. “That is an alien vessel. Do you realize the significance of the moment? This is history, gentlemen.”
“Just a minute,” Jon said. “Something’s bothering me about what I’m seeing. I can’t quite place it, though.”
“If it’s okay for a lowly Neptunian like me to speak, I can tell you exactly what you’re not seeing.”
“What?” Jon asked.
“Normally,” Da Vinci answered, “we’d see lights, tons of lights from the various habitats. There are orbital stations, floating cities in Neptune’s upper atmosphere with incredible lights, ships moving around with obvious exhausts. You see what I’m getting at?”
Gloria sucked her breath in sharply. “You’re correct. This is pristine Neptune like it was before humanity stumbled out here.”
“I doubt everyone just turned off their lights at once. If I were to guess—” Da Vinci trailed off
“You think the aliens destroyed the cloud cities, orbital habitats and spaceships?” Jon asked.
“Seems like the easiest working theory to me,” Da Vinci said.
“Do you see any evidence of combat debris?” Gloria asked the Neptunian.
“Huh?” Da Vinci said.
“If the alien ship destroyed…” Gloria’s mouth hung slack. She turned to Jon. “I know what happened.”
Jon waited for it.
“Do you remember the yellow lines I showed you before?” Gloria asked, “The lines radiating from the alien vessel?”
“I do,” Jon said. “They were radio waves to everywhere else. You’re thinking the aliens put viruses into all the other computers. And those computers attacked their inhabitants just like our computer did to us?”
“My evidence,” Gloria said, “is the decided lack of lights anywhere else in the system.”
“Then…” Jon said. “How are those five warships managing to do what they’re doing? And how are those missiles closing in on the alien vessel? The missiles are headed there, right?”
“They are indeed,” Da Vinci said.
“When you look at it like that,” Gloria said, “the five ships are a fascinating development. I’d dearly like to speak to someone over there.”
“I can open communications with them,” Da Vinci said.
Gloria scowled. “Don’t be a fool. If you send a message, we’re all as good as dead. That would alert the aliens that we have defeated their computer virus.”
“I don’t know about that,” Da Vinci said. “The aliens—if that is an alien vessel—don’t seem to be doing anything about the five warships.”
“We need other sensors,” Gloria said. “This is like watching a movie without sound. We can figure out some of the plot, but there’s too much we’ll never understand just by watching it.”
Jon had been tapping his chin. He now turned to her. “If you’re right about the alien method of attack—turning our computers against us—what happens if the alien ship heads deeper into the Solar System?”
“No!” Gloria said, grabbing one of his forearms. “That would mean system-wide destruction.”
Jon glanced at her hand, and she abruptly released him.
“Why are the aliens so hostile?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Where did that ship come from?” Jon asked.
“The aliens must have come from out there—from somewhere outside the Solar System,” Da Vinci said.
Jon frowned at the obviousness of the answer.
“No,” Gloria told him. “That’s the correct procedure. Begin with what you know, no matter how basic. Once you establish the basics, you attempt to layer more data onto the foundational knowledge. They are aliens. They turned our own machines against us. That is an efficient form of combat. It indicates that the aliens are highly logical. It proves they’re ruthless as well. They didn’t give us a chance to surrender. It appears that they don’t desire to merely conquer us, but to utter
ly destroy us.”
“Genocide?” asked Jon.
“It may be too early to conclusively state that as a fact,” Gloria said. “But I’m leaning heavily in that direction. Wouldn’t they attempt some form of communication otherwise?”
“I have no idea,” Jon said.
“That was a rhetorical question,” Da Vinci told him.
Jon didn’t bother to reply to that. If he did, he would have to discipline the cheeky Neptunian. With the proper guidance, though, he hoped to use Da Vinci’s brains and skills for the good of the regiment. Thus, he didn’t want Da Vinci to turn sulky on him if he could avoid it.
“Let’s suppose that is an alien vessel,” Jon said. “What do we do next? What is our wisest response to them?”
“That’s easy,” Da Vinci said. “We stay hidden until the bastards go somewhere else. Then, we pick up the scraps. Think about it, sir. All that loot is lying out there because the owners are dead. I mean, if the mentalist has everything figured out correctly, we know the people are dead. The cloud cities, the habs—they’re all waiting for whoever wants what they have.”
“And when the aliens return to Neptune?” asked Jon.
“Go somewhere they’re not,” Da Vinci said.
“Let me get this straight,” Jon said. “We hide while the aliens kill everyone else in the Solar System?”
“Killing everyone else is only going to last for a while,” Da Vinci said. “If we’re still around, the aliens will return and kill us too. That only means one thing, Chief. We have to scrounge up women. The regiment has plenty of men, men who will probably be pretty horny soon. They’re going to need women bad. I could use me a couple of girls myself. We have a big ship, right? Well, we leave the Solar System, partying for as long as we can on this ship. I don’t see any other choice for us.”
“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die,” Gloria quoted.
Da Vinci scratched his head, as if thinking that over. “I don’t care much for the dying part, but the rest sounds good to me.”
Gloria glanced at Jon.
“What’s your suggestion?” he asked her.
“We have to stop the aliens,” she said.
“I’d like to know how we do that.”
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