by B. V. Larson
“What about you?” Gwen asked. “Do you stay on or go home?”
“I’m from the planet that commissioned this ship. Killer will return to her home space, and I’ll return to my duties in my star system.”
“But you’ll still be a lieutenant commander?” Gwen pressed. “While Leo here gets nothing?”
“Well, there won’t be time to put him through the officer training. You’ll be back on Earth before it begins. Recruits from the primitive worlds rarely become officers anyway—but in this case, it could have happened if hostilities had continued.”
I nodded, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about the whole thing. The change was so sudden, so final… It was like I’d been allowed to glimpse another world, and then having it yanked away from me.
But I knew I needed to keep my crewmen happy. They were looking down in the dumps, probably for the same reasons.
I slammed my hands together, making a loud report. They all jumped and looked at me.
“This is fantastic!” I said. “Can you believe it? We’re going home! Back to our green Earth at last. Can any of you tell me you haven’t felt homesick?”
They shook their heads.
“Good enough then,” Shaw said. “I wanted to tell the five of you in person, because you helped make all this happen. Now, I’ll spread the news. Feel free to tell anyone you meet.”
He left us, and we stood in a loose circle.
“You led us home in the end,” Samson said, smiling. “And to think I tried so hard to kill you back on Earth.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that would have screwed up everything.”
Our group laughed and broke up. All over the hangar deck, I heard cheering break out. The word was spreading. For us, the war was over.
Dalton found me next. He put out his hand, and I shook it.
“You did good, Blake,” he said. “I want to take back every shitty thing I ever said about you. Well, most of them…”
“Same here,” I replied.
We both grinned.
“Look me up when we’re standing on real dirt again,” he said. “I’ll be somewhere around Manchester.”
“I’ll do that.”
In a similar fashion, I met with numerous others and discussed our future plans. They were all stunned, relieved, and a little bit sad. We’d been part of something big together. We all had lives to go back to, but there was no way they could be as interesting and unique as serving in the Rebel Fleet.
Mia was among the last to find me. The first bell had rung, calling us to our pods again.
“Once more,” she said, pressing her warmth against me. “In the fighter this time.”
I didn’t have to be convinced. I took her hand and led her aboard Hammerhead.
We made love in there until the second bell, when we walked together back to the pod. The crew knew us well enough to know what was up, and they eyed us in amusement.
All except for Gwen, that was. She was curling her lip. Could she be jealous still? I thought she’d gotten over that.
=51=
Returning to Earth took almost a month. By the time we jumped into our home space, we were more than ready to muster out and leave Killer behind.
The carrier’s deployment system followed a consistent pattern as the crews were disbanded. Each time, a single fighter was shunted out of the lower breach. When it was fired out into open space, it was up to the crew to land safely.
It was a strange way to end our enlistment in the Rebel Fleet. Commander Shaw explained that they had to return us home as soon as the Imperials retreated. We were, after all, not prisoners aboard Killer. We had been “volunteered” by our home planets.
Piloting Hammerhead for what I assumed was the last time, I steered the tiny ship toward my birthplace.
“You’re sure you know how to reenter an atmosphere?” Dr. Chang asked me again.
“As long as I keep our speed down, we’ll be fine,” I assured him. “This will be a powered landing, not a glide-down or a splashdown. I’ll keep the angle fairly shallow, and I won’t let the friction build up too much.”
“Are you still sure you want to land on the Pentagon’s lawn?” Gwen asked nervously. “That seems provocative.”
“We’re cleared for it,” I said. “Shaw said that he talked to the government, and they were agreeable.”
“What if they try to shoot us down or something?”
I chuckled. “Samson, look sharp on those countermeasures!”
“I’m on it, Chief.”
Dalton was in Mia’s place today, as she’d been left behind with her original crew. He stretched out, ignoring the armament controls.
“I’m going to miss weightlessness,” he said. “And Hawaii, too. You should land us on those islands, Blake. Let our governments pay if they want to fly us somewhere else.”
“He’s got a point there,” Samson agreed. “They’ll probably do a brain-suck on us to get every drop of information they can. No reason to rush it.”
“They won’t have to,” I said, looking around the crew thoughtfully.
“Uh-oh,” Dalton said, taking his legs off the trigger mechanism for the main cannon. “I can tell you’re going to do something unexpected. What is it?”
“Well… what if we didn’t return Hammerhead to the Rebels? I mean, what if she had a malfunction and Killer had to leave her behind on Earth…?”
They stared at me for a second, then Dalton grinned. He grabbed my shoulder and shook it.
“That’s the first smart idea I’ve heard come out of your mouth in a month! Listen, I know the perfect fence. He can move anything, a Rembrandt, a—”
“Hold on,” I said, “I wasn’t talking about selling it.”
“What then?”
I shook my head and turned to the group. “Listen up. Earth is now in contact with the rest of the wild Kher, but we lack any serious space-going tech. We’ll never catch up enough to build a fleet of our own—at least, not in our lifetimes. I intend to help with that. If Earth’s engineers can dissect this ship, they can build their own based on this design.”
“That’s wrong,” Gwen said.
I turned to her, a little worried. Her skills were going to be critical in order to implement my idea. I hadn’t floated my plans back aboard Killer because I knew there were too many recording devices everywhere. But now, I needed the cooperation of everyone aboard.
“I’ll need your help, Gwen,” I said. “You’re our best hacker. We need to use our syms to take this ship for our own. We’ll make it look like an accident—a malfunction of some critical system.”
“I don’t like it,” she complained.
“Listen,” I said, “this is bigger than we are. We’re talking about Earth’s future.”
“Why can’t our government just buy one of these ships, if they need it so badly?” she asked.
Forcing a smile, I lowered my voice and tried to stay calm.
“Listen,” I repeated, “we don’t have anything to trade. At least, nothing that’s worth traveling across interstellar space to get.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, “they came here to get us.”
“Yes, but only because that was a legal requirement for them.”
She eyed me for a while then sighed.
“Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll help you. But if they come after us, I’m telling them it was all your idea.”
“That’s exactly what I’d do if the situation was reversed,” I lied. “But don’t worry—they won’t come after us. We should be good for another thousand years.”
We spent the next hour guiding our ungainly bird down into the blue skies and streaky white clouds of Earth. She really was a different-looking planet than I’d realized. Bright colors interlaced and swirled with a frosting of gasses, but they were more muted than I’d seen in books or movies. The ocean was an unexpected shade of blue, almost a gray, and the land was a mottled patchwork of greens and browns.
Whe
n we glided down toward the East Coast of North America, none of them objected. Dalton was from the UK, and Dr. Chang had begun his life in China. Even so, they seemed to agree the United States government was the most trusted entity to receive this jewel.
Maybe they would screw it up. Maybe my brothers and sisters on Earth would squander this opportunity, or try to hoard it for their own national gain. But I couldn’t control that part. I could only hope the tech would get out, and my home world would grow up.
The universe was so much bigger and more dangerous than it had been just a few short years ago. Instead of random points of light that we theorized about, we’d been allowed to go there.
Just the data logs aboard Hammerhead would grant humanity centuries worth of interstellar exploration. We’d been out there, and the sensor data was all in the data core. The storage capacity of even a small, outdated fighter was tremendous by Earth standards.
So, before we touched the mesosphere, Gwen was hard at work hacking Hammerhead’s central guidance computer with her sym. We were supposed to set the fighter down, climb out, and stand clear while the ship flew back up to the carrier on automatic—but I planned for events to proceed differently.
“I can’t get in,” Gwen complained. “They—they changed some parts of the security interface. My old codes have already been locked out.”
I was busy piloting Hammerhead, but I had a plan for this, too.
“Dalton,” I said, slapping his leg. “You’re on. Fly this bird down to D. C.”
“What?” he said, looking shocked.
Like the others, he’d been busy soaking in the sights of the East Coast below us. We’d pierced the cloud-layer and were beginning our final descent. The view was fantastic.
It was dusk on this part of Earth, and I could see lights and highways. There was a thrill in everyone’s gut. We couldn’t believe we were really home. It had been many long months since we’d been collected and processed back on Hawaii.
I locked the controls, switching them over to Dalton. Then I climbed out of my harness. Dalton, cursing steadily, took over.
We were still running the anti-grav system, so I floated to Gwen’s station in the back.
“Let’s do it together,” I said.
“I don’t think this is going to work.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, giving her my most reassuring grin.
Together, we let our syms out to do their worst. I’d already cut our data-feed channel to Killer. No doubt the CAG was annoyed and trying to reconnect—but I didn’t care.
This was too important. Today, I was no longer a member of the Rebel Fleet. I was a human helping out my home world.
“I think I’ve got an angle,” I said, “check out Tand’s log entries.”
“Why?” Gwen asked. “He’s dead.”
“I know he’s dead now,” I said, “but he had full access to this fighter in the past. Based on how the Kher seem to operate, I’m gambling that they haven’t updated his login info yet. It probably hasn’t even occurred to them.”
Together, we followed that thread of logic. Suddenly, the ship opened up to us. We’d done it. We’d hacked a Rebel fighter with an old passcode.
“We’re in,” I said.
“It really isn’t a crime,” Gwen said worriedly. “I mean—this is our ship, right? They assigned it to us. We’re her crew.”
I touched her arm and assured her our former commanders wouldn’t mind a bit. I don’t think she really bought it, but she gave me a flickering smile to show me she appreciated the effort.
We landed on helipad three, just as we’d been ordered to do. I took pains to alter Hammerhead’s programming—well, not really. I just blanked the rest of her flight plan.
Outside the landed ship, a throng approached cautiously. I saw uniforms, service trucks—even an ambulance. They weren’t taking any chances.
“Now,” I said, “drop the fuel pods.”
Samson looked at me in surprise. “Me?”
“That sub-system is on your interface, isn’t it?”
Grinning, he did as I asked. We heard a clang and a rolling sound. The group outside scrambled back in alarm. I was glad to see no one was crushed.
Outside, the rescue crews retreated and Marines moved in to surround our ship at a safe distance. We could see them standing warily in full dress. They didn’t seem to know if they were a color guard or a combat team. They avoided the fuel tanks as if they were dangerous—which they were.
“Edgy, aren’t they?” Dalton laughed.
“They probably think we’ve just laid a pair fusion bombs on them,” Gwen said.
“Time to make this real,” I told them, and I opened the main hatch.
A few Marines approached us. I kept my hands over my head and waved at the nearest troops.
“I need these fuel tanks rolled off the pad!” I shouted.
“Are they dangerous?” asked the duty commander.
“Yes, of course.”
He swallowed, folded up his lips into a tight line and began shouting orders. My request was honored immediately by a dozen men with surprised looks on their faces.
While they worked, Gwen and I edited the ship’s logs—by erasing all records from the last shift. No scrap of data since we’d launched from Killer was spared.
A squad of brass shouted for my attention, but I ignored them. I pointed up at the sky, indicating I was calling the Rebel Fleet. They shut up, pronto. No one on Earth had the balls to go up against what they considered an alien menace from the skies.
After we rebooted Hammerhead’s computer, I made a call to the CAG. He relayed me to Captain Ursahn herself.
“We’ve got a problem, sir,” I said.
“So, human,” she said. “You’re not infallible after all.”
“Afraid not,” I said ruefully. “This ship is old—almost falling apart after all the combat she’s seen. We had to drop her tanks over the ocean. She’s functioning now, but barely.”
“A pity…” she said. “What do you suggest that we do?”
“It’s all up to you and your time schedule. You can call her scrap, or you can send down a tug to pick her up.”
“That will delay our departure by hours,” the Captain complained.
“Like I said, it’s your call.”
I waited tensely for her decision. I was hoping she’d just piss-off and go away. It would be the easiest that way.
After a full minute, she called me back.
“We’re dispatching a tug. Hold at your position.”
I gritted my teeth and sucked in a hissing breath through them. Killer wasn’t going away.
“You’ve got it, Captain,” I said, as if I didn’t care at all.
When she cut the channel, it was my turn to release a long series of curses. A two-star general walked up to me during this tirade and asked what the hell was happening.
I told him quickly, and he caught on right away.
“We need this ship,” the general said. “We’ve been talking about stealing her ever since we were told you were returning.”
“I’m glad to know my efforts will be appreciated,” I said.
He clapped me on the shoulder and leaned close. “Not by everyone,” he said. “Some are terrified it will start some kind of war. What do you think we should do to pull this off cleanly?”
I looked around at the greeting party and my crew. Hammerhead stood proudly on her skids, all burnished metal and wicked-looking weapon mounts.
The sun was setting, looking orange through the haze.
“We’ve got to steal her,” I said.
The general nodded grimly and smiled. “You’ve got my attention, Blake. What can we do to help?”
=52=
Sometimes, I think I’m at my best when I’m winging it. That seemed to be true with women, work—and war.
We had to move fast. It was getting dark, and we had maybe forty-five minutes before the tug from Killer arrived. I had to make every minute count
.
First, I requested a Blackhawk gunship. They complied worriedly, and twenty minutes later it set it down on a nearby helipad. The weight and size of the vehicle was pretty close—I hoped it would be close enough to be convincing.
Then, we rolled one of the two big fuel tanks right up against the gunship.
My crew was getting nervous by this time.
“Dammit, Blake,” Dalton said, “why don’t you just let us go home? I’m itching for some iced whiskey and a warm companion.”
I appreciated his state of mind, and I expected a hero’s welcome too—but business came first.
“You’re still under my command for now, Dalton,” I said. “We’re part of the Rebel Fleet until Captain Ursahn releases us.”
“You’re a right bastard, Blake,” he muttered. “What can we do?”
“We’re blowing that up,” I said, pointing at the Blackhawk and the fuel tank. “With you manning the cannon.”
“You crazy sod,” he laughed. “We’ll be hanged—or worse.”
“You let me worry about that. Gwen, blank the ship’s logs again the second it’s done.”
“Oh… this is too insane.”
“Keep it together,” I said, “trust me.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Well then—trust in America.”
She looked at me and shook her head. She sighed. “I’ll do it, but I want it noted that I was only following orders.”
“So noted.”
“That defense always works, Gwen,” Dalton cackled. “Don’t worry for a moment, my love.”
She muttered foul words, hacked into the ship again, and gave me the thumbs up.
Dalton didn’t even wait. He blasted the helicopter to fragments. Flaming pieces went cartwheeling into the air. He hooted with joy.
“Right under the Yanks’ noses,” he said. “Look at them run!”
The marines who’d been ordered to clear the vicinity had been loitering at what they’d thought was a safe distance. But when the air ripped apart, releasing deadly radiation in pulses, they’d all fallen on their faces. Some of them had singed hair and uniforms. I hoped no one was seriously injured.
“Dammit Dalton,” I said, “You might have killed someone.”