by A. B. Keuser
Cable looked for Kenzie as he left, but she and Raza were long gone. Hunting them down now wouldn’t do him any favors.
Especially with the company he gained as soon as he stepped out of the infirmary.
He was waiting, like a hunter in a blind. As soon as Cable turned down the corridor, he struck.
If falling in line and keeping pace could be considered a strike.
Then again, his odor was enough to call an assault.
Bezzon didn’t say a word.
"Do you need something?"
"I want on your team."
That would be a cold day in hell. "We're full up."
"I heard they reassigned Stacy to your team. What’s one more? I was hoping you'd make room.”
Cable stopped at that, his head nearly snapping to look at the lieutenant. "Why in Goddess’ name would I do that?"
Bezzon smiled, too smug. "Because we both know your current team isn't particularly happy about working with Mack... I have no problem with it."
"Even though she outranks you now?"
Cable could see the revelation surprised the lieutenant, but he recovered quickly.
"Yes."
"There's no room, and I'm not going to split up a cohesive team just because you want a piece of the glory."
"I don't—"
"Yeah, you do. I forgot how many transfer requests I field.” Bezzon was the first in-person. He’d seen twelve waiting in his comm file. “The answer is no. No one on my team is getting sacked. If we lose a member, the selection process is set. I don't take bribes. Now, I'm sure you've got an assignment waiting on you somewhere else."
Bezzon stared at him, jaw twitching. Until he finally said, “Just remember. I liked Aaron. I still do. I don’t know why he did what he did and he paid the price for it. No one else should have to. If you’re willing to trust your crew with Mack’s safety--and I wouldn’t be--then just remember they’ve got guns and hot tempers. Don’t let Buck’s idiotic orders get her killed.”
Cable stared the man down. It wasn’t a threat. Per se.
“My crew is professionals. They know when to hold their tongues and take orders. And they know when making baseless accusations--especially ones involving superior officers--could put them on a fast track for the brig.”
Bezzon had the decency to look cowed.
He dismissed the lieutenant, turning away and trying his best to pretend as though the man no longer existed.
He'd had petitioners get violent, or worse, weepy. He cringed at the thought. There was something entirely unsettling about crying adults trying to become a part of your kill squad. He needed patience and resolve.
Communication and honesty was the way to build a squad from the ground up... and Aaron had crippled him on both fronts.
He should have scrapped the team all together, sent them off to start their own squads. But he was selfish, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that to himself.
Thirteen
Mack hated the Dendratic and it had nothing to do with the soldiers casting curious glances her way. The grey-blue steel of the bulkheads was sterile. She missed the vibrant murals and long outdated advertisements on Celesta. Hell, she’d take a random swath of graffiti and be happy about it.
The military didn’t like personality. It like order and regulations.
Raza opened a heavy door and ushered her into their quarters.
The accommodations were not the first things that caught her eye.
Stacy stood in the center of the room, her shirt off, back toward them. A white steri-strip held an ugly gash together on her shoulder, another impending, jagged scar across the fractured face tattooed there.
“And here I thought I’d have the place all to myself,” she said, pulling on a tank and stuffing her dirty uni into a laundry chute.
She gave them both a quick smile, and Raza stepped around them both, to strip off her tactical gear.
Their bunk was as impersonal as the rest of the ship. Four beds stacked two and two across from each other, with a small mirror glued to the back of the hatch door and a closet sized lav directly opposite.
Mack wasn't precisely comfortable with the open lav.
If Aaron's reminiscing had any layer of truth, Mack surmised the fleet drove home several non-universal truths. One: your body was not your own. It belonged to the service for so long as you were enlisted--or conscripted, as the case was for her--so what did you care if others saw it.
That was not going to fly, not for Mack. She may not have been a prude, but she certainly wasn’t an exhibitionist.
Raza tugged on her pants and flopped onto the lower left bunk, throwing a hand toward the lower bunk across from her and making some non-committal noise that Mack could only guess was a signal that it was hers. The clothes stacked there were a better clue than the one given by her new roommate. The same black uniform as Raza's waited, neatly folded on her bunk, along with a pair of standard issue boots and, most surprisingly, two regulation PA145 hand cannons.
"Beautiful." Mack barely breathed the word as she gazed down at the stock weapon her brother had taught her how to shoot on one of his longer bouts of leave.
Tossing her bag to the foot of the bed, she picked up one of the guns, and traced her fingers over the cold metal. They weren't spectacular, an old, beat-up pair - but then, she hadn't expected new toys. This was the military, after all. Private sector got the really fun do-dads.
“Have you been certified on those?” Stacy asked, sitting cross legged on the bunk above Raza.
“Not officially.”
“And unofficially?”
“Aaron and Cable showed me the basics. I stole one of Aarons when he was on leave and improved my technique… and his guns. These are clearly not those.”
She pulled out the few tools she had in her duffle and started to work, breaking apart the piece.
It took five minutes per gun before she had them up to a serviceable condition she could tolerate. She checked the sighting, made a few minor adjustments and then caught Raza's curious glare.
"Upgrading the hardware chip for better output." She pressed the side alignment and looked through the sight once more. "You want me to do yours?"
"No, thanks." Raza rolled back over, staring at the top of her bunk while Stacy shook her head. "You'll want to change. We have a briefing as soon as the commander is out of the infirmary."
"Lovely." She tried not to roll her eyes. Failed.
Mack did as suggested, trading her station jumpsuit, for the uniform.
The uni’s fabric was lighter, the inside smooth, the outside rough when you slid your hand up, leather patches sewn onto the shoulders and back. "Kevlar polymer silk?"
Raza snorted with what Mack hoped was amusement. "Your brother refused to wear anything but... which was fine, because he was in charge of squadron requisitions. We just never changed the order."
"You didn't like my brother very much, did you?"
She opened her mouth, anger flashing in her eyes and then she shook it away. "I loved your brother. He was like family, and then...."
Mack touched the data stick still in her bag. Whatever was hidden there, she wasn’t going to like it.
She turned, shooting a wary glance toward the door as though she'd said too much.
"If you don’t know why people around here have an issue with him, and you for sharing his last name, there are some things you still need to discuss with Cable."
"I guess so." Tying her bootlaces, she looked across the small expanse and considered the data chip in her bag… the one that would tell her what Raza alluded to without having to prod Cable into telling her. “How many people do I have to watch out for? And what’s the best angle to expect a knife in my back?”
"I'm going to try to help you out. Survival in this situation is all about hiding weakness. The Cable you knew - the one you saw on leave, the one on that space station with you - is not the Cable you'll find here. Not on this ship anyway. I’d suggest you learn to kee
p your head down, and your mouth shut when you don’t know how someone’s going to react to the name embroidered on your chest."
"You make them sound like monsters more than soldiers."
"We’re all monsters. Don't give them any ammo. Teach them to respect you, not to hate you."
“What did you do to earn their respect?” Mack asked as she pulled out a makeup clip and used the small mirror to contour her shape into new angles. The less she looked like her brother right now, the better.
“I hold the record with in the fleet for enemy kills.” She smiled, but it was a tired smile, one that seemed to come out of habit, unbidden. “You're a tech, right? I mean, you're replacing Aaron as far as that goes in the squad, and I watched you deal with that weapon...."
"I’m proficient." Enough to fake a low enough score to keep her out of the government eye.
"Perfect. Earning respect isn't going to be easy, but it won't be terrible. You do your thing, get us out of any scrapes the Commander gets us into, and hold your own with those guns... and you should be in the clear. It's getting to the mission that'll be the hardest."
"I can't beat the ever living crap out of someone out of the gate? Lieutenant Bezzon's face needs rearranging..."
Raza laughed. "Being on his bad side, might help."
A trilling chime signaled overhead and Raza stood, grabbing a tablet from inside her bunk, "That's our cue to make our way to the briefing. I hope you're ready for the ravenous dogs."
"Most of them won't know who I am right off the bat." Maybe. She and Aaron did look startlingly alike.
"No, but they'll want a name, and it's not like you can lie."
Pulling her hair over her shoulder to obscure the name patch, Mack gave her a dumbfounded look. "I'm Mack, what more do you need?"
Raza pursed her lips and shook her head. “You might survive after all." She pulled open the hatch and led Mack down the corridor.
This time, Mack paid attention to where they were going.
Chances were, she'd be here for a while. She trusted Cable to try to get her out of the conscription... she didn't trust the fleet to loose its claws quickly. She noted each corridor they passed, catching sight of exit markers and maintenance hatches.
Raza led her past the mess hall and her stomach lurched at the idea of something other than the protein bar Raza had thrown her way in the infirmary. It may have the nutrients she needed, but it had tasted like cardboard and sawdust.
“Making a map?” Raza asked without looking at her.
"It's a big ship." She said noncommittally.
The ship was a maze of more than just open corridors. Power ran through the conduits on every side, and she catalogued weak points, wondered which she could sneak out and fix in the night. Cable’s mother was on this ship after all.
The briefing room was not what Mack would call large. The same dull gray as the rest of the ship. The room held a wide viewport, similar to the one in Celesta Station's axis lounge.
She followed behind Raza, quickly appraising the nature of the others in the squadron. Peezus was the first one she noticed.
She’d never met him, but Aaron’s stories of the quiet man were descriptive enough she could spot him in a crowd.
A commo, the man was built like a bulldog. Small hips that his shoulders seemed to overcompensate for, did not fit the uniform well. He watched her, eyes darting around her person--seemingly cataloguing her every feature. Not a good thing under the circumstances.
The second man, a steely eyed bruiser, stared at her, cracking his knuckles as though they were nutshells. He sported a rather recent black eye and a heavy bandage on his neck. The salt and pepper hair atop his head made her question his age... gray didn't seem to suit him.
"Got some fresh meat for the troupe, Raz?" The bruiser asked. He had that generic soldier look. The one she'd seen so many men and women fall into when they signed on for duty. He'd stuck with the severe buzz cut from boot camp, and it only made his block head blockier. She knew a dozen stationers who'd fall at his feet.
"I'm Mack. Your new tech."
“Anders.” He said, brusquely. “Glad you’re finally here. Raza isn't the only on chomping at the bit to get back to what we do best. I'm about ready to fling myself out an airlock and see if I can't take on the last of the insurgents myself."
Stacy slipped in through the open hatch and sent Mack a quick smile before slipping into her seat. Peezus greeted her with a grin.
Anders on the other hand…. “You blow up a station and get promoted to Carr’s team? Must be nice.”
“I didn’t blow anything up,” Stacy sat back in her chair and cast a sharp smile his way. “But speaking of incendiaries… how did your four months of clean-up detail go for that little fire bomb you accidentally set off at the back world academy when you were pretending to be an instructor?”
Anders stiffened and for a moment, Mack wondered if he wished looks could kill.
“That was a misunderstanding.”
Raza snorted and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You destroyed three buildings.”
“It’s smaller than a whole station.”
“She didn’t call in the attack ships that crippled the station, and she sure as hell didn’t plant explosives to tear the thing apart.” Mack said, brushing her hair over her ear.
Raza was still laughing, when he turned his dark glare on them.
“And the station was already going to be blown up. I doubt they had plans to decom the school.”
“At least his students know what to not do.” Stacy was smiling at Anders, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore.
Whatever irritation he’d had, he’d transferred to Mack. She could deal with that.
It was Peezus who spoke next. “I feel like I know you, but I can’t figure out why.”
He studied her as though squinting would give him his answer.
"Because her brother was fleet." The bruiser stared at her openly. "Sorry, took me a second to recognize you. The photo was old, and I haven't seen it in a while."
"So, you're brother's in the ranks? What's his name, maybe I know him."
"You knew him. Are you blind? She's even wearing his fucking uniform."
She’d fidgeted with her hair without noticing.
Sitting back, she forced herself further into the padding of the chair and tried not to make it obvious that she was clinging to the arms. The power pulsing through to the output jacks calmed her in a way no pill from a med tech had ever managed.
There was a beat of dead silence as the women to her right shared a glance, and then Anders cursed.
"Fuck me. And Buck wants her on our team? Is she huffing fusion burn?"
His objections to her presence descended into a low grumble. And Peezus watched her warily. So much for being judged on her own merits.
“Is this better, or worse than I should expect from the rest of Mersen’s crew?”
“I’d guess better… but I can’t be sure. Your brother liked making enemies for fun. Anders had to work with him on a daily basis, he was pretty inured to him by the end.”
Raza just shrugged and leaned back in her chair watching the man curse into his lap.
Stacy had leaned over and was discussing something with Peezus out of hearing. He, for what little it was worth, cast her a quick smile. She’d have to remember to thank Stacy for smoothing that over.
Cable stepped inside, his jaw set as he took his place at the front of the briefing table. "I see you're all getting acquainted."
Fourteen
This was going to be messy.
"You were all here for the big bang, so you know Celesta station experienced a non-passive failure." He turned to look at Peezus, the Commo was the quintessential gossip - something that made him perfect for his job. "I'm sure you've all heard the scuttlebutt about the Curran as well , that it followed an attack by a raiding party that strafed the station.
“Lieutenant Stacy is joining us because Greene was on the C
urran. His temporary assignment was not public knowledge. If you could have been informed before now, you were.” He glanced at Raza who stared at him impassively. “We have received footage with this man,” He swiped the desk control to display on the wall and turned to look at the rag veiled man. “Taking credit for the attack.
"He calls himself KaRapp. I hope you all remember you small school history lessons. The Kas have been gone for at least a century, but, imposter or no, he's still a threat--as evident by the debris we're currently leaving in our plasma wake.
"If you've had a chance to read the brief mission report drawn up by one of Buck's people, we're getting this party started with a search and destroy mission. There's an Asteroid, designation Gamma-Three-Four-Niner that used to be a part of the Kas planetary defense system."
"I thought the Kas abhorred defensive weapons.” Raza said, looking at the holo of the asteroid with pursed lips, narrowed eyes. “Didn’t they style themselves hunters?”
Peezus laughed and spoke to the lot, though his eyes darted back to Cable as though seeking backup. “Not smart ones. They were notorious for attacking even when there was no hope of victory."
Cable deferred to the general understanding of the Kas. "I suppose defense is a misnomer. The asteroid was part of a broadcasting system. It blankets the space around it with a field that seriously fucks with transmissions. As of three weeks ago. This one," he pointed to the image on the screen as it changed to the asteroid clump. "resumed activity."
"That's impossible." Kenzie said, her eyes fixed on the picture, mouth still in the same scowl it had been in since he’d entered.
Cable agreed, but this we was on her side. "It's as impossible as a Ka finding his way out of the woodwork."
His bulldog-faced third in command looked back and forth between them, "Someone want to fill the rest of the class in on why it's impossible?"
Kenzie turned to the tabletop in front of her as though it held some answer none of them could see. "Because Ka Technology is bio-specific. It's why we don't have any of it. There are only two reasons fleet doesn’t cannibalize alien tech when you have the chance. First, it's inferior to what we have already--and sometimes even then, they snag it. Second, we can't make it work in spite of our best efforts. You have to have an incredibly precise string of genetic coding that's inherent in Ka DNA. Without it, the tech is useless. There were even some Ka with genetic mutations that couldn't work their own tech."