“I’m sorry, we lost him,” said Mitchie.
“We have to go look for him!”
“He died. We can’t go back. It’s too dangerous.”
“He can’t be dead! Did you see his body?”
Mitchie climbed the rest of the way out of the hatch, forcing the older woman back.
“Bing. We have wounded. Get your gear and help them.”
“Not until I get Alois back!”
“There’s a Marine medic with a little first aid kit. If they don’t get more care than that some of them will die. Go help them.” Mitchie turned to Hiroshi. “Start the turbines.”
“Yes, ma’am!” He was relieved by the direct order.
“Who the hell are you to give orders!” demanded Bing.
“Schwartzenberger told me to take command. I’m following his last order. We need to get out of here. You need to treat your patients.”
Mitchie locked eyes with the first mate. After a long moment Bing went below.
Setta came on the PA. “All personnel are on board. Cargo doors and airlock are secure.”
By the book the crane should be secured for lift as well. Mitchie didn’t care right now. “Decurion, take us up,” she ordered.
Hiroshi said, “Up ship!” over the PA as he throttled up the turbines.
Demeter Orbit, acceleration 10 m/s2
Once they were boosting for the Coatlicue gate—and clear of anything that might be chasing them—Mitchie decided to check on her new additions. She found a couple of marine privates in the galley helping Bing run a sandwich assembly line.
The senior private answered Mitchie’s “What’s up?” with, “Gunny detailed us for KP, ma’am!” As the last sandwiches were wrapped in paper the marines tucked them into a pair of nearly full boxes. With nods to the captain and first mate and omnidirectional “ma’ams” they carried the food off to the hold.
Mitchie turned to Bing. “That was nicely done. Thank you.” The first mate kept wiping down the counter without acknowledging Mitchie’s existence in any way. The new captain waited a few minutes then walked off.
Coming down the ladder in the hold gave her a good view of the people. The Rangers and Marines were mixing, which eased her top worry. They’d broken into groups by rank. The handful of civilian refugees were sticking together near the airlock. There was more food than sandwiches in sight. Bing must have emptied the main deck coolers.
A Marine corporal was standing at parade rest by the base of the ladder. When her left foot touched the deck he came to attention and bellowed, “Captain on—”
“As you were!” Mitchie interrupted. “Carry on with your meals.”
The corporal saluted and returned to his meal. Waiting next for her were the two top NCOs. Gunnery Sergeant stood rigidly at attention. Beside him Master Ranger was in wu chi stance, erect but relaxed. “Ma’am, how may we serve?” asked the Gunny.
“Don’t need anything, Gunny, Master Ranger. Just wanted to check that you’re all fed and settled in. Please, carry on.” She declined a sandwich but had to accept a bottle of juice to escape. The NCOs went back to their conversation, comparing the relative value of high-intensity VR simulations to a real-world orbital drop on a bandit camp for producing combat experience.
Mitchie strolled around the circle of conversations. The box from the laboratory sat in the center of the hold where everyone could keep an eye on it. No one wanted to be near it.
The junior NCOs were trading stories of training accidents. The Senior Rangers seemed to be winning. “So he’d actually managed to survive sliding sixty meters straight down into the glacial crevasse before getting wedged in the ice. That’s when we found we only had fifty meters of rope . . .”
She moved on to the refugees, who actually wanted to talk to her. Mitchie promised to drop them off at the next Fusion world. They were grateful enough to make her wonder if someone had started a rumor of the Disconnect kidnapping immigrants.
The medic kept an eye on the wounded in one of the dormitory containers. They were all asleep—Bing had provided the drugs he’d needed. She thanked him for his work and moved along the circle.
The privates and Rangers were talking about life on Akiak. “Never break a promise. You’ll be passing the hat to get some cardiac surgery and bam! Someone pops up saying you didn’t feed her cat ten years ago when she was out of town. Then you’re a promise-breaker and no one will help you.” The Ranger finished up his tale with a laugh.
A short master private sat up in alarm. “Wait, you need to pay for surgery?”
“Of course,” said another ranger. “Doctors have to eat.”
“Government doesn’t pay for it?”
“Shit, the government can barely pay for us. Half our gear we got from donations.”
“Oh, shit.” The master private looked very unhappy. “All my money was on Demeter. I can’t afford any surgery. I was going to switch back when I mustered out. If I wind up on Akiak I’m going to be a boy forever. Fuck.”
A junior private snarked, “You’ll get used to it.”
The rangers were curious. “If you don’t want to be a boy why’d you switch?”
“I wanted infantry,” said the master private. “At my height I needed the muscle bulk, bone density, aggression hormones, and stuff to pass the Grinder.”
“They wouldn’t let you enlist as a girl?”
“Oh, I could enlist. But they’d make me a fricking useless intel weenie or something.” Another marine hissed at him. The master private looked up to see Mitchie listening behind him. “Uh, no offense, ma’am.”
Mitchie said, “Carry on, Marine,” and walked to the lower deck hatch. Maybe she could find a more pleasant conversation in the converter room.
Pleasant maybe, but not private. She came through the corridor to find Guo making a stranger trace the plumbing to find the key valves.
“Ma’am, I’d like to introduce Waja Azad,” said her husband. “He was a mechanic at the Caerus spaceport. Waja, this is Captain Long.”
“Hi, ma’am,” said the stranger.
“Welcome aboard,” said Mitchie as she shook hands.
Guo explained, “Waja’s volunteered to help out with maintenance. He doesn’t have experience with analog ships, but the plumbing isn’t much different.”
“I learn quickly, Captain,” said Waja.
That title’s going to take some getting used to, thought Mitchie. “Good, I’ll leave you to it, then.” She turned to Guo. “See me when you get off shift?”
“Of course.”
She headed back up to the main deck. Maybe I’ll get something from the galley and go eat in my cabin. Need to read up on funerals anyway.
100k TEU Container Ship: this freighter carries the equivalent of a hundred thousand twenty-foot standard shipping containers. It travels a circuit through the worlds of the Fusion, never landing.
Battleship: massive warship built around spinal directed energy weapon. Cannot land on planets.
Chapter Seven: Shepherd
Demeter System, acceleration 0 m/s2
“How’d the service go, ma’am?” asked Hiroshi as Mitchie floated up through the bridge hatch.
“Fine,” she answered. “The Rangers and Marines seemed to draw some comfort from it.” But Bing looked like she wanted to kill me. Mitchie still felt unsettled, more from seeing her husband cry than her own grief or Bing’s hate.
She pulled the restraining strap back to put the worn copy of the Captain’s Bible back on its shelf. The ceremony under “Funeral, Body Missing” had met her needs exactly. She just followed the script.
“Uh, ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“I know a new commander usually has changes she wants to make . . .” said Hiroshi.
“Right now we need to focus on getting home alive,” Mitchie said.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m just wondering . . .” He trailed off.
“Spit it out.”
“Ma’am, what’s your policy on fra
ternization?” he blurted out, face red.
“Ah.” This is why officers shouldn’t play practical jokes. “No policy. As long as all the work gets done I don’t care what you do in your time off.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Hiroshi took out the sextant and measured their vector relative to the Coatlicue gate buoys. After covering half a sheet of paper with calculations he announced, “In the groove, ma’am.”
“Very good, Pilot. Take us through.”
Now they just waited to coast through the gate. Mitchie was eager to leave this dehumanized system and return to human space. Hiroshi handled the PA announcements as they approached the jump.
She anticipated the anticlimactic appearance of a new sun dead ahead of them. Instead there was a passenger liner ten times their size blotting out the starfield.
“Traffic!” yelled Hiroshi.
“Evasive pitch plus!” ordered Mitchie.
The pilot pivoted the ship and burned to put them on a non-collision course. Mitchie activated the radar to measure the clearance.
“Belay thrust. Pivot us to give me a look at that ship.”
Hiroshi carried out her commands, this time warning everyone over the PA before maneuvering. “No plume,” he said. “They’re not thrusting.”
“No,” said Mitchie. “Radar shows them with a typical velocity for jumping in. So they’ve been drifting for a day or so.” She studied the liner through the telescope. “No visible damage. Close enough for me to read the name off her.” She put the telescope back in its case.
Mitchie unstrapped and moved to the comm console. “Butterfly Dance, this is Joshua Chamberlain. Come in please.”
The Fusion ship responded promptly. “This is Butterfly Dance, we read you.”
“Butterfly, do you need assistance?”
A bitter laugh came across the radio. “Don’t have a guess what you could do to help us, Joshua.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Mitchie.
“We’ve been disconnected. Control declared all the refugee ships leaving after Demeter lost network monitoring are data hazards. Changed the key on the navigation beacons. We’re lost. Can’t go anywhere. They’d shoot us down if we tried to land. So we’re just sitting and waiting for the food to run out.” The voice from Butterfly Dance laughed again.
“Those sons of bitches,” muttered Hiroshi.
Mitchie bit down on her anger. No matter how much I assume the worst about the Fusion they keep amazing me. Cursing up a storm wouldn’t help these disconnected ships.
Disconnected . . .
“Butterfly Dance, how accurate is your collision radar?” she asked.
“We have you within plus-minus twenty meters.”
“Can you maneuver to match courses with us?”
“Certainly. But where are you going? You arrived later than us. They won’t let you access the nav beacons.”
Mitchie chuckled. “Butterfly, we’re an analog ship. We’re going home to the Disconnected Worlds. You’re welcome to follow.”
Pause. The Fusion ship’s captain said, “Would they really take us in?”
“We’ll take the people. The ships may be scrapped.” Or seized to be converted to warships. “There’s no stipends. You’ll all have to work.”
He laughed, this time with a trace of hope. “Blessed Krishna, working beats starving. Yes, we’ll follow you.”
“Good,” said Mitchie. “I’m going to see if any other ships want to tag along. Get me an estimate of your fuel and food endurance.”
“Working on it, ma’am.”
Mitchie turned to Hiroshi. “Let me see your course to the Danu gate.”
“It’s laid out on the plotting table, ma’am,” he said.
She floated over to the table. The magnets marked the major planets and scheduled maneuvers. “Perfect. We’re staying well clear of the inhabited worlds. Go take a nap. We’re going to be busy sheep dogging those ships. I expect we’ll be working overlapping shifts.”
Hiroshi looked like he wanted to ask a question but decided against it.
She switched the radio to the omnidirectional antenna. “Analog ship Joshua Chamberlain to all Demeter refugee ships. We are bound for Bonaventure . . .”
Coatlicue System, acceleration 10 m/s2
Two days of talking and maneuvering brought thirty-one refugee ships together in a loose formation. Staggering them to keep clear of each other’s plumes put all but the front rank out of radar range of Joshua Chamberlain. Mitchie hoped following-the-leader would be precise enough when they headed for the gate. Or at least that the errors would cancel out.
“Acceleration is good for the first leg,” reported Hiroshi.
“Thank—” Mitchie’s second word turned into a yawn.
“Ma’am, I can solo this stretch. Go get some sleep.”
She decided he must be right if she couldn’t come up with a good counterargument. “Call me if anything comes up.” She climbed down the ladder.
“Good night, ma’am.”
The bridge ladder delivered Mitchie into the main deck corridor looking at the galley. A couple of men sat at the table. Guo lit up the instant he saw her. “Off duty?” he asked.
“For a few hours.” They shared smiles.
Guo headed for their cabin.
The other man was Master Ranger Robinson. He came to attention. “Ma’am, may I have a moment of your time?”
“Of course.” Mitchie stepped into the galley.
“In private?”
Never a good sign. “Yes, come this way.” She led him into her cabin. Guo stood by the bed, shirt off. “Chief Kwan, could we have a moment please?”
Guo’s jaw clenched. He silently put his shirt back on and left.
“What’s on your mind, Master Ranger?” asked Mitchie.
“Captain Long, I have no hesitation in carrying out any orders I’m given. I will be more certain I’m carrying out those orders as intended if I understand the philosophy behind them.” He stood at parade rest, eyes fixed on the cabin wall over her head.
This is a pissed-off NCO. “I’m happy to discuss my command philosophy. Is there a particular example you’d like me to clarify?”
“Ma’am, as we prepared to depart you assigned a search and rescue task to Gunnery Sergeant Singh, an enemy soldier.”
Mitchie wished she’d had a chance to review the Master Ranger’s service record. But it was probably still on the Consul’s ship. “What was your best search and rescue mission?”
His stance relaxed slightly. “Seven years ago. When the rim of the southern ice cap collapsed near Mulcahy. Found a homesteader cabin under twenty meters of ice. Pulled out eleven survivors who had only a few hours left.”
“I’d heard of that. I hadn’t realized you were the same Robinson.” Deep breath. “The task I assigned Gunny was not a search and rescue task.”
“Ma’am?”
“It was a security task. He had to evaluate those refugees to see if any of them had been infected or suborned by the AI. Bringing a contaminated refugee on board would endanger our lives, the ship, and the mission.”
Master Ranger paid full attention. She could tell he hadn’t grasped her point yet.
Mitchie continued, “I needed someone who could condemn an innocent to death because she might—not would, might—pose a danger. Fusion Marines are trained to destroy. I knew I could count on Gunny to put the mission over an innocent life. Could you do that?”
His lips twisted as he struggled with the question. “I think I’d try to bring them along in some kind of isolation, ma’am.”
“I’d like that if we could do it. But we didn’t have time and we didn’t have resources.”
“Thank you, ma’am. This has been very informative.” He saluted and left.
Guo came in, face stiff.
When he closed the hatch Mitchie said, “You’re right, I shouldn’t throw you out of your own cabin for ship business. Schwartzenberger used his cabin for business but he lived alone.
I need an office. Can’t use his cabin, Bing’s spending half her time there.”
He relaxed and hugged her. “I’m sorry. I’ve just gotten so little time with you lately. I hate to see something else get in the way.”
She squeezed back. “I miss you too. Shepherding those lost lambs is taking too much time.”
“I worry if the Disconnect can afford to take them all in.”
Mitchie giggled. “Afford? Honey, imagine cutting the torches out of all those ships and handing them over to Bonaventure’s building program.”
The mechanic thought a moment. “They’re mostly cruiser-size. And the torch is about a third of the cost of a warship. That’s going to make a difference.”
“I thought so. Now, let’s go look at the spare cabin and see how hard it would be to set it up as an office.”
When Mitchie last looked in the cabin across the hall it had a bunk with a sheetless mattress and a few boxes strapped to it.
Now she opened the hatch to find it filled with stacks of cartons. They’d been secured against thrust but not well enough to keep a few from breaking loose. Those now blocked the opening down the middle.
Mitchie set her handcomm to PA. “Spacer Setta to the main deck.”
In a moment they heard feet on the cargo hold ladder. Setta popped up through the floor hatch and saluted. “Reporting as ordered, ma’am!”
Mitchie’s return salute turned into a wave at the open hatch.
“Um, First Mate Bingrong gave permission to swap ship’s supplies for local goods as long as we received equivalent nutritional value.”
“All that is from swapping our food rations?” asked Mitchie.
“The ship was stocked for a long cruise. Disconnect foods are somewhat exotic on Demeter. Were. Hiroshi and I had a lot of time to visit the markets while we were waiting to leave. I found contacts who really liked the stuff.”
“Right. Okay, I have no complaints about the swapping. You need to secure it better. Move it to cargo hold containers if you need to. Then clear out Bakhunin’s cabin so I can use it as an office.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Setta. “Um . . . priority level on that?”
Torchship Pilot Page 15