Wrecker's Moon

by Patrick McClafferty

  “Thanks a lot, Uncle Horatio.” Kelsoe grouched. “Shall we leave it at that?”

  The older man smiled. “For the moment.”

  Kelsoe exhaled loudly. “Good. I move that we break for lunch. I have a few things to do over at the Wyvern. Meet back here in two hours?” Nods came back from around the table and Kelsoe stood, intending to run out of the room if necessary when Donovan caught her arm.

  “You blew a hole in the Vonuborg flagship, and blew up their supply chain?” He asked in an incredulous voice. “With one little survey ship?”

  “Yeah, it seemed the right thing to do at the moment.” She didn’t mention that the Wyvern mounted the equivalent in weapons to a Fleet light cruiser.

  “How did you ever get around their shields?” There was professional curiosity in his eyes.

  Kelsoe laughed. “Their shields weren’t up yet. They were just cruising along, fat dumb and happy. I planted an anti-matter mine on the hull of the flagship to disabuse them of that idea, and timed it to go off when my missiles struck the fuel ships.”

  “As a tactician you rank right up there with my father.” He said in his soft deep voice.

  “Don’t flatter me.” Kelsoe scoffed, blushing. “I’m a fifteen year old former thief, and I know nothing of tactics and ship battles. G’Fleuf, who was and still is my teacher, and Mia did all the hard brain work. I just said—yup, it sounds like a good idea.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I really do have to go.”

  His look was flat and unreadable. “The stumps of my legs itch.” He said without preamble. “Each morning the doctors have to put on new dressings, because the old ones always seem to be too tight. The worst part, I suppose, is that in all their sophisticated medical programs they can’t find the reason why.” He chuckled. “I moved back to my own quarters yesterday, and don’t plan on visiting the doctors again…unless I have to.” He paused for a moment. “I measured them. My legs are two inches longer than when I lost them, and if I can judge by the shape, the new knee joints are beginning to form.”

  Kelsoe gave him a warm smile. “I’m glad to hear that.” She murmured. They were standing very close now, and Donovan blinked, seeming to realize for the first time just how close.

  “I’ll see you later.” His smile was just as warm as hers, and it gave Kelsoe a small fluttery feeling in her stomach. “Thank you.” He murmured softly as he turned away.

  “He likes you.” Dashtra announced as she stepped beside the young woman to watch Donovan’s retreating back. When she wanted to, the bigger woman could move as silently as a cat. “But he is a little old for you, don’t you think, and perhaps a little battered?”

  Kelsoe laughed as she led the way out of the door. “You may want to rethink your views on certain things, Dashtra.” She rejoined, as she reached out in a casual friendly movement, and placed her hand on the blond woman’s arm.

  “And what things are those?” The woman asked as they began to slip on EVA suits.

  “Start thinking about life expectancies in the hundreds, if not thousands of years. The difference of a few years is nothing. Missing legs is simply a temporary inconvenience, and Donovan will be walking on his own legs again soon enough. His new legs have grown by two inches already.” She smiled to herself. “He told me.”

  Dashtra scoffed, her voice sounding tinny in Kelsoe’s suit speaker. “Nobody has a life expectancy in the thousands of years. One hundred and fifty is the current max, with all the Empire resources available, and nobody grows new legs. Cloning yes, in six months to a year, but nobody can grow new legs. When it was hinted that Commander Donovan would be in Physical Therapy I assumed it would be to get used to his new prosthetics.”

  Kelsoe slid the airlock door open and the two boarded the small two man skimmer that waited her use. Like the first Den, the surface here was dusty with a thick white powder. “You’re right, humans don’t live that long or grow new limbs but Commander Donovan does, and so do you…now.” The buzz of the vehicle’s drive blotted out Dashtra’s shocked response.

  The two women hung their EVA suits on pegs in the airlock, and stepped into the Wyvern. To Kelsoe it felt like coming home. Dashtra stood staring, and Kelsoe sighed.

  “Mia, this is my guard, PT therapist and friend, Lieutenant Dashtra Varoshi. Dashtra, this is Mia.”

  “It is nice to meet you, Dashtra,” Mia said in a soft voice, holding out her hand. The blond woman frowned furiously as she struggled to remember where she had seen this woman before. Finally giving up, she stuck out her own hand to shake Mia’s.

  “Who are you?” Dashtra said by way of greeting. “I think I should know you.”

  Kelsoe rolled her eyes. “Go ahead and get it over with, Mia. You won’t be happy until you do.”

  Mia smiled. “It’s not who but what, really, and Kelsoe is my daughter. I am the AI that runs the Wyvern.”

  “But…” No other sound came out of Dashtra’s mouth, her blue eyes glazing slightly. Kelsoe took her gently by the arm, led her to the wardroom and put a steaming cup of klah in her hand. Dashtra automatically took a long sip, and her eyes cleared suddenly. “There’s rum in here!” She announced in an accusing tone, glaring into the cup. “Actually, it’s mostly rum!”

  “And your point is?”

  Dashtra glanced up at Kelsoe for a moment, her shoulders sagging as she drank down the rest of her steaming drink. “It was a good call.” Setting the cup on the table, she was silent for several long moments as she looked from Kelsoe to Mia, and back, nodding. “I think I have. I can see the resemblance now.” She murmured, smiling. “This ship used to belong to Aarlan Smith, and the personality matrix was programmed to resemble his wife.” She turned the smile to Mia. “How close are you?”

  “Ninety three percent verisimilitude.” Mia replied immediately.

  “And the body?”

  “Virtually one hundred percent accurate.” Mia said proudly.

  Kelsoe sat and sipped her own klah, but without the rum. “How is your other little problem coming?” The corner of Kelsoe’s mouth twitched up into a smile.

  “Ahhhh.” Dashtra reddened slowly. “I don’t like the idea of an alien virus pumping through my bloodstream.” She glared at the younger woman. “Who knows what the hell it’s going to do in the future?”

  “My father was “infected” for a number of years, and it didn’t seem to do him any harm, although it couldn’t save him in the end.” Kelsoe sighed.

  Dashtra touched her arm, and gave her a weak smile. “At least I don’t have a male presence running around in my head, peering into all my dirty dark little secrets. THAT would have creeped me out.”

  Kelsoe blinked, and for a moment suspected that Dashtra liked women better than men—but that wasn’t quite it. She frowned, and then she had it. “You’re attracted to both men and women.” She murmured aloud.

  It was Dashtra’s turn to blink at Kelsoe’s calm tone. “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “Should it?” Kelsoe replied quickly. “I was born and raised in the Den, where the ratio of men to women was about fifteen to one. My best friend, my only friend was G’Fleuf the Drugud. The human men ALL wanted only one thing and I usually had to fight them off, sometimes physically. The women I met were all too tired for talk, or for friends. There was no such thing as a normal relationship. The first man I ever met and really liked I got blown up.” She gave Dashtra a sour look. “I think I’d just like to have a friend for the moment.”

  Dashtra leaned over and touched her hand. “I can probably help you there.”

  “Thank you.” Kelsoe replied warmly, and then looked up at Mia, who sat at the other side of the table. “What do you think of our little plan?”

  “Except for covering the fact that you want to go to Wecarro in the Wyvern, and shadow the transport, it was fairly thorough.”

  “What!!” Dashtra squawked.

  “Hush!” Kelsoe commented in a preoccupied voice. “You will be going too, along with Uncle Horatio, so things are
n’t that bad.” She turned her attention back to Mia. “Can you reprogram the Vonuborg food replicators?”

  “Hmmmmmm.” The sound coming from Mia meant that she was accessing her data files, and it went on for several minutes, and then… “Well!” Mia exclaimed. “Who would have thought they would do it like THAT!”

  “You can’t do it, can you?” Kelsoe said in a depressed voice.

  “Oh no, I can do it.” Mia admitted gaily. “The Vonuborg use their replicators for everything, unlike human replicators that are designed to replicate certain TYPES of products. One replicator will replicate food, while another may replicate ball bearings, and another farm fertilizer. The Vonuborg replicator will replicate a nuclear weapon as well as a cup of klah, or the gross Vonuborg equivalent.” Mia actually shuddered, and not for the first time Kelsoe marveled at the wide range of emotions programmed into the synthetic personality of the Wyvern’s Artificial Intelligence. “Reprogramming for human food will be easy. Programming a lockout for everything else will be somewhat more difficult, but I can do it.”

  Kelsoe leaned over and touched Mia’s hand, and was again surprised at how warm and human it felt. In that touch she was almost certain she even felt a heartbeat. “Thanks mom.” She said in a very small voice.

  Dashtra cleared her voice, and gave Kelsoe a level look. “Have you told your Uncle about this scheme of yours?”

  The younger woman flushed brightly. “Not yet.”

  “Do it as soon as we get back.” She smiled and took Kelsoe’s arm. “Now, why don’t you show me your ship, Captain?”

  “We should leave in no more than two weeks.” Horatio restated as he began the afternoon session of details. He turned to the Marine Lieutenant. “As Kelsoe mentioned this morning, the cleanout of the Vonuborg troop transport will be a job for the Marines. How many can you make available, Justus?”

  The Marine didn’t even blink. “As many as we can fit into the two destroyers.” He thought for a moment. “Perhaps eight hundred. Some of my engineers are involved in projects here.” His glance took in their home. “Squeezing four hundred Marines into each of the two destroyers will be tight, but it won’t be for long. We can transfer to the Vonuborg transport once we seal the hull breach and restore power and air.”

  Kelsoe shuddered at the thought of what the inside of the transport would be like. As the details of setting up the salvage operation and the rescue of the Smith family continued, she found her thoughts wandering. On the other side of the table Dashtra appeared to be slightly dazed. Kelsoe knew from past experience that she was probably trying to cope with the idea of the strange alien infection she’d just received. As the meeting began to break up, Horatio touched her arm and indicated that she should wait. She smothered a smile, and knew that it was too much to ask for to put one over on her Uncle.

  Horatio sat down beside her and steepled his fingers. “You might as well tell me what you’re planning, little Kelsoe. You may be Primus, but I can still put you over my knee if you need it.” He glanced up warily at Dashtra, who was watching him like a hawk from the other side of the table.

  Kelsoe gave him a winning smile. “That won’t be necessary Uncle, since you will be coming with Dashtra and I to Wecarro. The Troop Transport Terranen needs something a little stealthier than a frigate to guard it.” He frowned. “Do you know who will be flying the transport? I didn’t see another ship captain at our meeting.”

  “Lieutenant Helve Sepp is Bente Velo’s XO from the Sword. She is quite experienced, and you might consider giving her command of a ship when we get through with this.”

  “Who will be her XO on the Terranen?” Kelsoe asked.

  “Warrant Officer Marco Craxx from the Marines is a qualified pilot, and is the only surviving Marine Aviator.”

  “Good.” Kelsoe smiled, and then whirled as a small sound from the other side of the room caught her ear.

  “I knew that you had something up your sleeve.” Donovan’s voice was grim. “I’m only upset that I can’t come along.”

  Kelsoe’s face was turning alternate shades of white and red, and she couldn’t tear her eyes from Donovan’s face. “You can’t come along,” she confirmed in a small voice, “this time.”

  Donovan sighed. “Even at the rate I’m healing, it will still be months before I’m on my feet again, even with crutches.”

  Kelsoe gave him a wicked smile. “Good.” He blinked. “That will give me time to find a ship for you to command.” She looked up at her Uncle. “And Fleet Captain Smith, of course.”

  Across the table Dashtra was doubled over in laughter at the faces of the two men.

  Chapter 9

  WECARRO REPRISED

  Kelsoe leaned back in her command chair and watched Charybdis drop away below them. A soft equipment hum filled the command deck, and the air was cool, bearing the faint scent of pine needles. It had been three weeks since the planning meeting, and one week since the Troop Transport Terranen and the Frigate Grazer had departed for Wecarro. Since nobody but the crew of the Wyvern knew when or where she was going, their departure was up to them. Mia estimated that she would catch the much slower transport and frigate in a week or less. Kelsoe’s immediate ‘family’ had, of course, been told and weren’t too happy about the whole adventure, but they put up, as military families have since the dawn of time when loved ones departed into harm’s way. Even Dashtra was acting unusually chipper for the usually sober Physical Therapist. With four people aboard, the Wyvern was finally flying with a full crew and as their Captain, Kelsoe didn’t plan on letting anything go wrong this time. Horatio was sitting in another bridge seat looking particularly somber while G’Fleuf looked…as he always did. Donovan had been confined to bed the week before, and was taking the enforced inactivity badly, and had snapped at Kelsoe so often when she came to visit that finally she just stopped going. It wasn’t that he was ill; just the opposite. His new legs were going through a growing spurt and for the moment, had to be treated gently. That meant no wheelchair.

  Kelsoe, feeling quite proud of herself, had resisted the urge to pick on Donovan while he was down. The thought of Donovan made her frown, and she nibbled a convenient fingernail.

  “The Primus shouldn’t chew her fingernails.” Horatio muttered in a vexed voice.

  “That’s a completely different hat, Uncle.” Kelsoe replied loftily. “I’m the ship’s Captain this week, and can do what I please.” She was rewarded by a cold glare from the older man. “Tell me this, Horatio.” She bit her lip. “Are Séamas and Jasmina Donovan’s children? They seem close, but not that close, if you know what I mean.”

  Horatio sagged. “Séamas and Jasmina are the children of my older son, and Donovan’s brother Argus. Argus, his wife and Donovan’s wife were all killed by that fiend Jochim Howarth.” His smile was as cold as ice. “I let Donovan tell Howarth that he had the choice of being boiled alive in oil—slowly, or trying his luck at swimming to freedom. He might have lived longer if he had chosen the oil.” The Fleet Captain shrugged.

  “Oh gods, I’m so sorry Horatio. I’ve been so mean to Donovan on occasion.”

  Horatio laughed. “It was the best thing you could have done for him. If you had coddled him, and felt sorry for him he would have hated you.” He gave her a level look. “As it is…” He let the rest of the sentence drop, and Kelsoe felt her cheeks heat.

  “So instead I take his father and go dashing across the galaxy without him.” She snapped.

  Horatio smiled in reply. “Donovan is a patient man.” He glanced around the minimalist command deck. “So this is the ship that confounded Task Force Seven?”

  “It is.” Mia said at Horatio’s shoulder, making the man jump. The AI had a small satisfied smile on her face. “I have all sorts of tricks up my sleeves.”

  “Any more of those anti-matter mines left?” Horatio asked curiously.

  Mia gave him a sour look. “I’ve replaced the one I used.”

  The older man put his hands behind his head and
leaned back in his own chair, the ghost of a smile on his own face. “Well now, you don’t say?” He murmured. Kelsoe could almost hear the gears whirring in the man’s mind.

  “Actually,” Mia continued, giving the Fleet Captain a hostile look, “I’ve replaced all the munitions I’ve expended, including the half kiloton device I dropped into the Fleet Headquarters after the last fiasco.