by Mark Wandrey
“Thank you, sir. I’m familiar with the title.”
Edwards grinned. “Lieutenant Hoot over there is preoccupied with some comms data,” he said and indicated the Buma. “And I believe you are familiar with Kleena, who is sitting in for us while we continue to work on damage.” The elSha looked up at him and waved a wide-fingered hand before returning to work. Rick waved back.
The work stations were all at the same level in the CIC and faced toward the middle of the room, not in one direction. Rick didn’t know what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it. He spotted at least a dozen Tri-V projectors mounted around the perimeter of the CIC, all currently in standby.
“I was ordered to report to the captain’s wardroom,” Rick said, “but I only know it’s on this deck.”
“Of course,” Edwards said and gestured behind his command chair to where a hatch stood. “It’s through that door. Knock once and enter.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rick said and pushed off across the CIC, careful not to collide with anything or anyone. As he sailed by, the Buma’s eyes opened slightly more, and its owl-like head turned to track him, even after he went past. Rick used his arms to arrest his momentum, then knocked once on the hatch before pulling it open.
“Come in, Mr. Culper,” a woman’s voice said, and he got his first look at Captain Alexis Cromwell, his boss. Also in the wardroom was a white Veetanho Rick guessed was the executive officer and Lieutenant T’jto. Rick nodded and pushed off the door frame toward the empty chair the captain indicated. “First, let me apologize. In the past, I’ve made it a policy to meet every new member of my ship’s crew. As you no doubt know, we left Karma in a bit of a hurry, so I missed that ritual.”
“Understandable,” Rick said. “Is that why I’m here now?”
“Not entirely,” she admitted. Rick examined the woman who led one of Earth’s Four Horsemen. She had average to above-average looks, with narrow cheek bones and deep set, expressive eyes that were as blue as his own. Her hair was pure white, as if she were very old, though she was clearly no more than forty or so. She wore it in a carefully-knotted ponytail that somehow stayed down against her back. A wire, maybe? She looked over at her XO and nodded.
“We’re not at liberty to explain the situation we find ourselves in,” Paka said. “I’m sure you understand, Private?” Rick nodded. “After the boarding action in Karma, and a few other incidents, we decided it was best to undertake a security review of all the new members of the Winged Hussars.”
“And after my strange behavior, I’m at the top of that list?” Rick asked.
“Actually,” Lieutenant T’jto said, “you were at the bottom.” Rick looked at the MinSha in confusion.
“We’ve found Humans are the least likely to cause trouble in a Human merc company,” the captain said, then shook her head and added, “at least when hired off Earth.” Rick would have to think about the meaning of that line later. “Though we’re almost 50 percent alien, we’re still owned and commanded by Humans.”
“Then why am I here?” he wondered.
“We were hoping you’d have some insights,” Paka said, simply. “Maybe observations? Have you seen anything unusual?”
Rick grunted, then tried to think of anything that would meet that criteria. What would a kid raised in an Indiana town, born into a moderately well-off family, who had travelled into space to become a marine in a merc company made up of dozens of races find unusual? He almost laughed at the idea.
“You mean besides the Ghost?”
The captain’s head snapped up from the slate she’d been reading, and T’jto and Paka exchanged looks.
“You’ve met the Ghost?” Paka asked.
“Yes,” Rick admitted. “I brought her some robots during the space battle.”
“And you know the Ghost is a female,” the captain added, shooting a less-than-thrilled look at her XO. It was interesting to see a Veetanho look visibly uncomfortable.
“You’re not a very experienced merc, are you?” Paka asked.
“Only been off-world a few months,” Rick admitted.
“Then how did you know the Ghost is a female?” the captain asked.
“I didn’t until a Cochkala cook said she was female.” The captain tapped on her slate, and Rick wondered if he’d just inadvertently tossed the cook under a tank.
“Besides the Ghost?” the captain asked. Rick shook his head. “Very well, remain alert. I’ve read the briefing on your actions during the boarding action in Karma. For an inexperienced marine, you did well. But as your lieutenant said, avoid unnecessary risks.” Rick knew that meant the single-handed defense against the Zuul’s last minute charge. He still didn’t think it was unnecessary. “I’m glad we signed you and happy you’re one of my marines.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
“Dismissed,” the captain said, and Rick quickly pushed off the chair toward the exit. As he left the wardroom and floated across the CIC, Edwards nodded and gave him a wink that made Rick grin. As he made his way toward the lift, he promised himself he’d work twice as hard to become the best marine possible. The captain was an inspiring figure.
* * *
“What do you think?” Alexis asked her XO after the young Human was gone.
“He’s straightforward,” Paka said, “and desperate to prove himself.”
“I agree,” T’jto said.
“That injury,” Alexis said and shook her head, “I’m surprised he survived. Are you certain he’s fit for duty?”
“Dr. Ramirez says he is,” T’jto said and glanced at her own slate. “There was a fair amount of damage to his brain, but nothing to his motor cortex or decision-making processes. Nemo added he thinks the damage is memory and emotions, and some function may return with therapy.” Alexis shivered a little at that. The Wrogul’s therapy methods were hard enough to watch on simple procedures; she couldn’t imagine the alien digging around someone’s brain trying to fix a difficult problem.
“I don’t want the good Nemo experimenting on the private’s brain,” Alexis said, holding up a hand.
“You have more experience with his work than anyone else,” Paka said.
“Don’t remind me,” she said darkly. T’jto glanced between the two, but didn’t say anything. She’d only joined the Hussars a few years ago, and knew the captain and XO had served together a much longer time. “Lieutenant,” she said to the MinSha, “call the next new hire, please.”
* * *
Rick pulled off his armor and racked his laser carbine in the armory, reveling in the increased freedom of movement and cool air on his skin.
“That feels good,” he said, glancing to where Johansson was doing the same. He tried to admire her naked form without being obvious, especially now that she’d been promoted to sergeant to fill T’jto’s slot.
Dragon Squad had spent several hours helping in engineering, then working out in zero gravity to continue familiarizing themselves with the complicated Mk 8 CASPers. They’d jelled together quickly. Rick, Johansson, and Lynn were starting to feel like a team.
Once he put on a regular uniform, he floated into the squad bay. There, Oort and Lynn were having a discussion on philosophy. It had become a regular habit of theirs in the off-duty hours. Pegasus didn’t have the best entertainment database, so once you exhausted the library, the options were limited. Apparently, Lynn had already seen most of what was there, so she’d taken to discussing existential matters with the Tortantula. He found it interesting to observe; most of the others usually ignored it. Today, the discussion seemed particularly interesting.
“…premise is questionable,” Oort grumbled from where she was floating. Because of the size of the Tortantula, it was often more convenient for her to simply float free in the 20-by-20 space, where everyone could just move around her instead of always asking her to move. “After all, to quote, ‘Under peaceful conditions the militant man attacks himself.’”
“You are simply in love with Nietzsche, aren�
�t you?” Lynn asked. The floating Tortantula did not respond. “I would counter with an observation by Plato, ‘The measure of a man is what he does with power.’”
“I find Plato to be more taken with himself than with his own philosophy,” Oort responded, causing Lynn to visibly bristle. Johansson was already in the bay and was using the little autochef. Rick floated over to her as the other two marines exchanged another salvo.
“Don’t they ever get tired of this?” he asked the corporal.
“Not that I can see,” Johansson replied. “Never thought much of philosophy myself.” She gave a shrug as she accepted the plastic container of food. The autochef had detected the absence of appreciable gravity and dispensed the meal in the appropriate container. “All my family are mercs, going back to first contact. Dinner table discussions tended to revolve around blowing shit up, not navel gazing crap like this,” she finished, gesturing at the conversation.
“I have to admit,” Rick said, “I never expected a Tortantula to know philosophy.”
“She didn’t used to,” a high-pitched voice added. Jeejee floated nearby with a slate, playing a game. “Oort had a couple of close calls with death, and it affected her.”
“Looks like she’s had a lot of those,” Rick said and pointed at the huge alien’s partially missing rear leg, and numerous scars on her black body. Looking at the alien talking, Rick even noticed a couple of her sharp interior teeth were missing.
“Oh, tons,” Jeejee admitted. “She’s been injured a dozen times badly enough to endanger her life since we became partners.”
“Then what was different this time?” Rick asked.
“She says she should have died three times on a mission right before you joined us,” Jeejee explained. Rick considered how he might be affected by surviving three near-death experiences in a row. It didn’t elicit any feelings, but most things didn’t anymore.
“And that’s a big deal?”
“I’ve been trying to get more out of her,” Jeejee admitted. “Tortantula aren’t exactly talkative beings. However, I’m beginning to think it’s religious.”
“Tortantulas have religion?” Johansson asked incredulously.
“Sure,” Jeejee said. “I don’t understand it, though. Kind of a reluctant doomsday cult, I guess. It’s why they tend to go crazy and attack tanks bare-handed. Any sort of threat that can kill them, is a chance to cheat death.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
“But she can still fight?” Rick asked.
“Sure,” Jeejee said. “You saw her in engineering.” The Flatar seemed to think for a second. “Actually, she probably fights better.”
“How so?” the sergeant asked.
“She’s not quite as crazy as she used to be. Before, she’d go in fangs first. Now, she seems to be more deliberate.”
“Do you think she’s scared?” Johansson asked.
“No,” Jeejee laughed, “Tortantula are incapable of simple fear. It’s like she’s thinking it through more. She took chances in the engineering battle, like always, but she passed up a few chances where I’m certain she would have gone in screaming before.”
“And she didn’t eat any of the dead Zuul,” Johansson said.
Jeejee suddenly looked up from his game. “I…hadn’t noticed that,” the Flatar said, “but you’re correct.” Rick had to admit he liked being part of this company, if for no other reason than the strangeness of it. “Any word on what to expect at Grkata, Sergeant?” Jeejee asked, changing the subject.
“You’ll know when I know,” Johansson said, tasting her food. “I think it’s a rescue mission. I just hope it’s not a wild goose chase.”
“The captain is afraid something strange might be going on,” Rick pointed out.
Johansson nodded. “The captain knows things, Private. She’ll take care of it. But we need to get ready for Grkata in a couple days.” She ate her food as they listened to the ongoing debate between Oort and Lynn until Jeejee spoke up again.
“What’s a goose?”
* * * * *
Chapter 31
EMS Pegasus
Grkata System
Outer Asteroid Belt
“This is Pegasus calling Task Force Two, please respond on scrambled comms.” The CIC was silent for a moment then Hoot turned to look at her captain. “Still no response, Captain.”
“Continue hailing,” Alexis ordered. The little red light flashing in the CIC reminded everyone they were under Condition One, as they had been since arriving in the system. “The task force has to be out here somewhere.”
“What if they’ve been destroyed?” Paka asked. The commander shook her head. She refused to believe that. Everything pointed toward this being a trap. Why kill the bait before the trap has been sprung?
“I could broadcast in the open?” Hoot suggested.
“No,” Alexis responded immediately, then added with less force, “at least not yet.”
“
“How are you sure?” Alexis asked in return.
“”
Well that’s a big help, Alexis thought to herself. “Status update on those enemy seekers?” she asked Flipper.
“One is two light seconds out at bearing 88-mark-12,” the sensor tech responded, “the other’s last reading was 192-mark-39, distance one light second.” They were getting closer, and the second one worried her. The velocity they’d carried with them from Karma had served them well, but after emergence their course was unfavorable, forcing them to change bearings. The crew had determined the most logical place to look for the missing task force, and Pegasus had burned her torch at 3Gs for almost half an hour to turn onto the new heading. The advantage of their unconventional arrival had been effectively squandered when the massive fusion torch announced to everyone within several light hours a capital ship was in the system.
“Can’t we just splash those seeker drones with our own?” she asked over her pinlinks.
“
“Don’t they already know about where we are?”
“
“Not that it will help us evacuate our task force,” Alexis said. The hyperspace shunt possessed by Pegasus was incapable of projecting a stargate for other ships to use. When it came to the overall tactical situation, it was likely her lost lambs were aware of Pegasus’ arrival and were remaining silent on purpose to make it harder on the enemy. Or her source had been wrong about where the task force was hiding. Her gaze examined the big Tri-V projection of the Grkata system. An older, low sequence orange star, it had fizzled in its birth and didn’t have a halo of planets around it. A single, poorly formed gas giant, a few dozen planetoids, and a pair of huge asteroid belts made up the entirety of the star system’s points of interest.
There were several places they could be hiding. The upper atmosphere of the gas giant was unlikely as it was too easy to search and too difficult to hold position for weeks. The first asteroid belt was also unlikely, it was much smaller and only held a few dozen larger rocks and millions of tiny ones. It could have been thoroughly searched by now. Finally, the larger out-system belt, where they were heading now, was huge and full of hundreds of asteroids 500 miles wide, and thousands that were more than 100 miles or more in diameter. It would take all the ships the Hussars had more than a year to do even a basic search of the field. Their destination was based on proximity to the emergence point.
No, she reaffirmed to herself, they had to be out there. When Pegasus transitioned in, they detected only a single squadron of ships led by a battleship guarding the stargate. The system was lousy with distant radio squelches of active fusion torches, all in proximity to the out-system asteroid belt. That suggested
a search underway. Task Force Two was out here; it had to be.
“I have something,” Flipper said.
“Drone Control, stand by to launch,” Paka ordered.
“Standing by,” the monotone replied.
“What do you have?” Alexis asked Flipper.
“It’s small,” Flipper replied, listening to the data. Their species was good at this job because they could ‘listen’ to computerized sensor data converted into almost musical tones. Members of Flipper’s race could process sensory data faster than any other living race in the Union. “And it’s coming toward us.”
“Shields?” Paka asked.
“No,” Alexis said, “wait. Any signs it’s scanning us?” she asked the sensor tech again.
“No,” he replied, “I’m only getting passive emissions, probably from gyros and attitude control.”
“Give it a sweep,” she told him, “gently, on tight beam.”
“There’s still a risk,” Glick reminded her.
“I’m aware,” she replied. The Bakulu glanced at her with one eye then returned it to his controls.
From the forward array of sensors, a low-power directional radar pulsed outward. The radiation struck the approaching craft and some was reflected back. A fraction of a second later, Flipper knew a lot more about it.
“It’s one of ours,” he replied excitedly. “A message drone!”
“Drone Control,” Paka called, “take control of the incoming message drone.”
“I have it,” the reply came immediately. “It is answering only to one-way commands. It has been set to full passive mode.”
“They weren’t taking any chances,” Alexis said. “Bring it aboard. Helm, go full dark.”
“Full dark, aye-aye,” Chug replied, and the ship stopped all maneuvering. It would be hard for a seeker to spot them now, extremely hard with her reactors on low power.
Everyone in the CIC watched as the drone was plotted through its turn to come onto the same bearing as Pegasus. As the battlecruiser began to catch up to it, the drone fired its ion drive to match velocities. Within minutes, it was gently maneuvering sideways into the open hangar deck. The crew plugged a data line into the machine and downloaded its contents in short order.