by Isaac Hooke
“Sorry, sir,” Miko replied.
“You’ve met Stanley, right?”
“On a few occasions,” Miko said.
“Well, you’ll be interacting with him a lot more in your new role,” Robert said. “And trust me, you’ll never hear a euphemism leave his lips. When you talk to him, you’ll understand where the origin of the phrase cuss like a sailor came from.”
“I’m sure I will,” Miko replied.
“Have you ever—”
“Sir,” Ensign Lewis interrupted. “I’ve got something.”
Robert retracted the noise canceler. “What is it?”
“One of the telemetry drones we dispatched to scout the system has reported in,” Ensign Lewis said. “It’s discovered an anomalous thermal reading on a moon orbiting the third gas giant.”
“Another anomaly?” Robert mused. “More Elder offspring?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“The third gas giant...” Robert glanced at Miko. “Isn’t that where the six Raakarr ships emerged from last week? Those vessels the Raakarr built in this system?”
Miko nodded. “That’s right.”
He glanced at Lewis. “Why are we detecting the thermal reading only now? Those drones have been out there for days.”
“The telemetry drone in question only passed behind the gas giant a day ago,” Lewis said. “The moon’s orbit is exceedingly slow, and it has remained out of our direct line of sight since we arrived in the system. The drone found the anomaly only after passing the far side of the moon. It had to return to a higher orbit, far enough away from the radiation belts of the gas giant to transmit the information to us.”
Robert nodded. “The Raakarr chose a good site for their shipyard.”
“Assuming that’s what this is,” Miko said.
Robert considered his options. “Maxwell, I’m taking the Callaway and Dagger to investigate. Inform the captain of the Salvador that he is in command of the remaining task unit.”
“Yes sir,” Maxwell replied.
“You know how Captain Dallas felt about splitting the fleet up...?” Miko said.
“I’m not Captain Dallas,” Robert told him, a bit more brusquely than he intended.
“All right,” Miko said. “But I wouldn’t be fulfilling my role as first officer if I didn’t remind you of what happened the last time two of our ships went off to investigate an anomalous thermal reading on the moon of a gas giant.”
Robert regarded Miko thoughtfully. “I’m hoping things don’t turn out so poorly this time.”
Because he definitely didn’t want the same fate as the Selene and Aegis to befall them.
“In the meantime,” Robert said. “Send the telemetry drone in for a closer look. Let’s see if we can get some insights into what’s actually going on down there.”
nineteen
Jonathan resided in his psi-shielded tent in the berthing area. The others had retired to their shelters, too, as the hour was late. He was wearing his aReal goggles and writing in his log for the day. Ordinarily he would have kept a video logbook, but since there were no lightfield cameras available and he didn’t feel inclined to hold out his goggles or helmet in front of him selfie-style, he had chosen the written route.
“You know...” Chief Galaal’s voice floated through the berthing area, sounding slightly muted thanks to the tent he spoke inside of. “If the Raakarr have conquered Prius 3 and the adjacent systems, we’re essentially behind enemy lines, right?”
Jonathan took a break from writing his log entry. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But you’re entirely right. Especially when you consider the Raakarr are placing the equivalent of comm nodes at the entrance to every Slipstream.”
“And destroying our own Gates in the process,” the chief said. “What happened in Prius 3 disturbs me. Greatly.”
“It disturbs us all,” Sil Chopra chimed in from her own tent.
“You don’t understand,” the chief said. “I’ve lived through similar events in the past. This is how it begins. You’re all witnessing history. The cradle of the next alien war. It starts with skirmishes on the border systems. And soon grows to all out hostilities. This won’t end well. Not for either side.”
“I won’t disagree with you there,” Jonathan said. “The cradle of war. Not really what any of us signed up for, is it?”
“If I’d known I’d be serving aboard an alien ship behind enemy lines,” Rodriguez said. “I probably would have thought long and hard before crossing illegally into the United Systems.”
“You’re one of those immigrant draftees?” Rail said. “I thought they struck down the Enforced Enlistment Act back in ‘06?”
“Oh they did,” Rodriguez said. “But I arrived in ‘05.”
“Never realized you were that old,” Rail said, the mockery obvious in her tone.
“I’ve had a few rejuvenations done,” Rodriguez admitted. “But I don’t consider myself old. Enlightened is the better term. Wiser.”
“More curmudgeonly, you mean,” Chief Galaal said.
“I actually think I’m cheerier than I used to be,” Rodriguez told him.
“I was talking about myself,” the chief replied.
“Ah. I can certainly vouch for that,” Rodriguez said, sounding amused.
“The two of you have served together previously?” Jonathan asked.
“On a couple of deployments,” Rodriguez answered. “Back then, Chief Galaal was still making a name for himself as leading petty officer. I’ll tell you one thing, you didn’t want to get on his wrong side. Still don’t, actually.”
“Very few people get on my wrong side,” the chief said. “Unless they call me sir.”
“I think that was a surreptitious insult aimed at us officers,” Rodriguez joked.
“Not at all,” the chief said. “I know my place. Just as you know yours.”
The conversation momentarily died.
“Sometimes I wonder if I truly know mine,” Jonathan said into the silence that followed. “Am I truly the captain of a fleet? If so, why have I led my intrepid crew here? What the hell have I done?”
“You’re doing the best you can,” Connie said. “Like us all.”
“Am I?” Jonathan said. Then why do I feel so powerless?
“I think we’ll all need a good talking to with an experienced counselor when this is over,” Captain Rail said. “Of course, I’m referring to after your inquiry, Dallas.”
“Yes,” Jonathan said. “Thank you for reminding me of that.”
“I thought that was what you were alluding to,” Rail said. “When you were questioning your authority over the fleet.”
“Not at all,” Jonathan said. “But you’re right. What happened between me and Admiral Knox is another reason why I’m not so sure of my place.”
“I don’t know why you need a governing body to validate your position,” Rodriguez said. “By now you should know in your heart that you’re our commodore. You’ve led us through thick and thin. You don’t need the approval of some board of inquiry.”
“Unfortunately I do,” Jonathan sighed. “Legally, I will have to answer for what I’ve done.”
“And you will answer,” Rail said. “Don’t you worry.”
“Why are you so vindictive toward the captain?” Rodriguez asked. “What did he ever do to you, other than save your life?”
“It’s not what he did to me,” Rail said. “But the Admiral. Disobeying a superior officer like that, trying to get the other captains to rise against him, that’s deplorable behavior. It strikes against the very tenets at the heart of the navy. If people didn’t follow orders, there could be no navy.” She hesitated. Then: “Also, on a personal note, Knox told me he was going to put me in for a commendation when we got back. I would have been given command of my own task unit. The Salvador would have become a flagship.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” Rodriguez said. “You think you’ve lost your chance of advancement now that
the admiral you were all cushy with is gone. But I got news for you, Rail. He was playing you. He did it to all of us. He promised me the same thing. Back when we were in Vega 951, he told me I was second in line after Captain Dallas. That if Dallas weren’t there, I would have been given command of the second task unit.” Rodriguez’s voice quavered slightly. “That was one of the reasons I didn’t back you, Captain, when you called for the admiral’s removal. I thought Knox was going to make me the commodore of your task unit. But then Knox went and put Scott in charge of the unit, and I was like: what the eff. I’m guessing Knox made the same promise to all the other captains you tried to rally to your cause.”
Jonathan nodded slowly. “I was wondering what sort of backhanded dealing was going on behind the scenes. Political plays were never my strong suit.”
“You’re too humble, Captain,” Rodriguez said. “I’ve seen your tactics. Politics and space battles aren’t so removed from one another. Misdirection, trojan horses, pretend alliances... in politics, it’s all par for the course.”
“Maybe so,” Jonathan said, though he wasn’t convinced.
“What are you saying,” Sil chimed in. “Our alliance with these Raakarr is pretend?”
“Not at all,” Rodriguez said.
“NAVCENT may treat it as such,” Rail added.
“I hope not,” Sil said. “I’d hate to think we deceived these Zarafe into bringing us home, only to betray them when we arrive.”
“You forget,” Rail said. “That they could be the ones deceiving us. They want our planet killers. And they’ll do anything to get their hands on one. Even if it means pretending to be our allies.”
The conversation almost died on that note. But a few minutes later Rodriguez started it up again.
“What’s it like serving on the same ship as your dad?” Rodriguez asked. His words were obviously directed toward Sil.
She didn’t answer right away. “Not as bad as you’d think. He’s not my CO, thankfully, and we don’t see each other all that much. The Callaway is a big ship, after all. I can’t really bump into him accidentally.”
“Imagine if your father was the captain,” Connie said. “And you served on the bridge with him.”
“Now that would be a bad, bad thing,” Sil said. “It would be bad enough if I were the captain, and I had to order his team of MOTHs to perform some suicide mission. I don’t think I could do it. I can only imagine the inner turmoil Captain Dallas experienced when he had to fight an enemy who harbored the wife of his first officer. A wife who was also a good friend of his.”
Jonathan knew he was expected to say something, but he elected to remain quiet. He glanced at his log, and thought of something he had been meaning to ask Connie.
“Lieutenant Myers,” Jonathan said. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck determining the new frequency our laser rifles need to penetrate the personal shielding of the aliens?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Connie said. “I’ve had the Dragonfly attempt an active scan of the guards in the hangar bay, but it hasn’t helped. I’ll actually need to get my hands on one of their darkness generators; only then can I use the tools I’ve stowed aboard the shuttle to determine the new frequency.”
“I’ll talk to Barrick,” Jonathan told her.
“Wait,” Rail said. “Is that wise? Can we trust him? What if he reveals our intentions to Valor?”
“Do we have any other choice?” Jonathan said. “I’m under constant observation when I leave the berthing area, so there’s no way I’ll be able to secure one of the devices myself. Plus I don’t even know where they’re stored.”
“How do we know Barrick isn’t under constant observation as well?” Rail said. “And perhaps looking for any opportunity to ingratiate himself with his alien masters.”
“If he wanted to, he could invent a fake plot at any time,” Jonathan told her. “As the only one of us capable of talking to the aliens, he basically holds our fates in his hands already. I say we give him a chance to prove himself.”
No one else disagreed, so Jonathan called Barrick via the aReal.
A moment later the telepath tapped in.
“Yes, Captain?” Barrick said.
“What if I told you there was a way to regain our trust?” Jonathan asked him. “At least partially.”
“I’m interested,” Barrick said, sounding cautious.
“Well,” Jonathan continued. “It would certainly go a long way toward that end if you could help us secure one of the Raakar darkness generators.”
“You mean a tartaan?” Barrick asked. He had named the generators after the tartans Scottish highlanders wore because the patterns of light and darkness given off by the devices apparently denoted clans, like their namesakes.
“Yes, fine,” Jonathan said. “A tartaan.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Barrick answered. “However, I should warn the captain I may require the aid of one of his stalwart crew members to complete the task.”
“Tell me who you need,” Jonathan said. “And you’ll have him.”
“It’s not so much a him I want,” Barrick replied. “But a her.”
twenty
Barrick approached the airlock of the berthing area, and waited while the Raakarr with him authorized the outer hatch to open.
Inside awaited a crew member in a spacesuit. There were no escorting combat robots: their absence would place the Raakarr guards more at ease, which was precisely what Barrick wanted.
He stared at the lone spacesuit. Those outfits were the great equalizers: their bulk hid male and female forms while enhancing strength. No matter what your gender or physical capability, a spacesuit made you exactly the same as every other human—discounting the specialized exoskeletons of the special forces, of course.
One thing the suits could not hide were the faces, however. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true—some people employed suits with one-way displays that could replace the owner’s face with another. But that was not the case with the woman who stood before him.
Behind the faceplate her exotic features readily stood out. He would have recognized those high cheekbones, pouty lips, and that immaculate nose anywhere. Throw in those expertly trimmed eyebrows above the steel blue eyes, with tanned skin framed by jet black hair... she was perfection embodied. The culmination of a billion years of evolution.
“Hello,” Barrick said, his voice shaking very slightly. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”
“Captain Dallas gave me an order,” the woman said over the comm. She sounded bored. “So here I am.”
“But you could have refused that order,” Barrick insisted.
“Hardly. He’s my commanding officer.”
Barrick smiled sightly. “In any case, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Right.” Sil stepped from the airlock. “Can we get on with this?”
“Certainly. This way.” The hatch closed behind them, and Barrick followed the two Raakarr through the passageways. Sil strode at his side.
“You’re supposed to be pretending you’re ill,” Barrick told her.
“I doubt the Raakarr could tell either way,” Sil said. “Our physiology is just as alien to them as theirs is to us.”
Will the Organism make it to the examination room? one of the guards asked him mentally. Barrick called that one Banjo, because the ancient musical instrument was the closest match to the image the guard returned when Barrick asked his name.
The Organism will make it, Barrick replied. He could have mentally substituted the word ‘human’ for Organism, but the strange looking three-dimensional point cloud that the Raakarr sent to his mind was not specific to human beings—the aliens had used it to describe other species in the past, including the Elder.
Good, Banjo said. I don’t want to have to carry the repulsive thing.
Never fear, Barrick returned. If it comes to it, I shall carry the Organism. If only.
“Are you talking to them right now?” Sil asked.
“A little bit,” Barrick admitted.
“What about?”
“They’re wondering if they’ll have to carry you,” Barrick said. “I told them no.”
“Probably a good thing,” Sil said. Barrick thought she shuddered behind her faceplate.
“For a xenobiologist, you seem to have a remarkable aversion to these aliens,” Barrick said.
“Is it that obvious?” Sil asked. “You forget I spent some quality time as their prisoner. We were treated worse than cattle. They treat us little better even now.”
“The Raakarr are doing the best they can, under the circumstances,” Barrick said.
“Are they? Plumbing and running water would be nice.”
“I’m sorry that your quarters lack the usual amenities you’re used to,” Barrick said. “But you do realize the concepts of plumbing and running water are foreign to the Raakarr?”
“I suppose so,” Sil said. The two walked in silence for a few moments.
“Why me?” Sil asked suddenly. “You could have chosen any one of the team. But you chose me. Why?”
“To be frank,” Barrick replied. “I find you attractive.”
“Ah.” She sounded uncomfortable. “Ordinarily I appreciate frankness, but in this case you should have lied. I was hoping for something along the lines of, you admire my command ability, or my smarts, or my quick wits.”
“Those too, of course,” Barrick said.
“Though my looks are what sealed the deal.”
“Yes,” Barrick admitted. “I do apologize if I’d made a social faux pas by telling the truth. I have to admit, I never was the best at socializing. I often live inside my head, as you might imagine.”
“No it’s fine,” Sil said. “At least you’re honest. In the past, I’ve had officers promote me for my ‘abilities,’ and then all of a sudden they expected me to sleep with them in thanks.”
“Tell me who they are,” her father said over the comm. “So I can hunt them down and kill them.”