by M. D. Cooper
The last thing they all needed was Colonel Alice going on a rampage.
No matter what the outcome of the mechs’ hunt for the ship’s true purpose, Alison was certain of one thing: Karl was likely pissed that his ship had been taken by the Marauders.
The system’s public feeds were running rampant with speculation over what was really going on. Some people thought that the Marauders were just pirates, while others were hailing them as saviors, come to lift the Nietzschean boot from their necks.
There was worry about trade, and the damage to Memphis, Asmoian Station, and the locations that Third and Fourth Platoons had hit.
The strangest news of all was that Vargo Klen was functioning as the system’s governor pro-tem until the locals sorted themselves out.
Jenisa had laughed for a solid ten minutes when they got that news.
During that time, she’d managed to wheeze out seven words: “Captain Chase is off his fucking gourd.”
Kor had commented that he had no idea what a gourd was, but he agreed that Chase was off something. Fred, however, had nodded sagely, saying that Klen had prior experience with system administration, but wouldn’t elaborate, saying it was Klen’s story to tell.
Despite the fact that the mechs were making the best of the situation they’d found themselves in, Alison worried about what they’d do if the ship they were pursuing jumped to a heavily populated Nietzschean system, deeper in the empire. The mechs were all too willing to breach an enemy ship, but they were less enthusiastic about assaulting an entire system—at least, with Alice at the helm.
“Any updates?” Alison asked as she entered the bridge and settled into the navigation station’s low seat—too low for a mech to sit comfortably.
“Yeah, I picked up their shadow a few minutes ago,” Alice said, gesturing to the bridge’s secondary holodisplay, which showed a corvette class vessel very similar to the Karl’s Might.
Alison plotted its route and shook her head. “They’re going for this jump point, all right, but we’re five hours behind. Even if we pour on full thrust, we won’t catch them before they make the jump.”
“I know,” Alice said, scowling at the display. “We’ll have to follow through. I sent a tightbeam to Chase; he’s going to shift course as soon as the Niets leap out—we don’t want them to know we’re onto them.”
Alison glanced over her shoulder at the lieutenant colonel. “Where could they be going, Colonel? There aren’t a lot of systems in this direction…not for fifty light years. And then we’ll be on the far edge of old Genevia…just a dozen light years from where the border with Nietzschea used to be.”
Alice nodded. “Yeah, their trajectory is almost directly aligned with the Iberia System. Last time I was through there, it wasn’t anything special, but maybe the Niets have a sector HQ out there or something. Either way, they’re not going to get Rika.”
Alison gave a resolute nod, but didn’t feel nearly as certain as the gesture made her seem.
Kor made a gagging sound.
Alison simultaneously felt marginally better, and exponentially worse. Either this was the smartest thing she’d done all week, or the dumbest in years.
Probably both.
THE JUMP
STELLAR DATE: 10.14.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: MSS Fury Lance on outsystem vector
REGION: Blue Ridge System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
“Sir!” Chief Garth called out from the scan console, twisting in his seat to catch Chase’s eye. “I spotted a ghost! Three and a half light seconds from the jump point ahead.”
Chase turned from where he’d been standing at the main holotank, contemplating his options and considering whether or not he should send a message back to Thebes for help.
“A ghost?”
“Just for a moment. It looked like a strange heat bloom, and some ionized gas. Best guess? A ship venting atmosphere. It could have mixed with the engine’s plasma, and fouled their stealth systems for a moment or two.”
Chase glanced at the Fury Lance’s position. They were fourteen light seconds from the jump point. Too far to catch an enemy vessel before it would be able to transition to the dark layer.
“Chief Ona,” Captain Heather said, rising from her chair. “Shift us off our current vector a degree starboard, and cease thrust.”
“Heather?” Chase asked, glancing at the captain as she approached.
“We don’t have enough data to gauge their trajectory, and if we fly through that cloud of gas, we’ll lose any chance of carefully examining it. We need to slow up and send out probes. They can gather more data, and we can build up a model of exactly where the ship that vented atmo was headed.”
Chase hated the idea of more delays, but he knew that a blind jump outsystem wasn’t a viable option. They needed to know precisely where the Nietzschean ship was headed, then they could see if it lined up with a system.
Then they would have a target.
“Good thinking, Smalls,” he acknowledged.
“I know, right? I’m not just all beauty and great aim with a GNR. Some brains up here, too.”
Chase snorted and turned back to the holo. “Wherever that ship is headed, it has to be our Nietzscheans. Ferris hasn’t found any signs at Tellus Station that their brass fled there. The Republic and Capital haven’t spotted bupkis, either.”
“Bupkis?” Heather asked. “That a technical term?”
“Yeah, means we’ve only got one lead, and it’s weak as all get-out.”
“It shouldn’t take too long to get probe data,” Heather said. “Once we get it, we can boost hard to the point, and jump. Our other ships can catch up afterward.”
Chase nodded and settled back into waiting. He tried to be patient, but worry constantly gnawed at his gut. Fear that Rika would end up in some interrogation chamber on the far side of Nietzschea, and he’d never find her. He knew that the longer the pursuit dragged on, the less likely he was to ever see her again. This wasn’t like when she’d been sold at auction. The Niets didn’t want to use her because she was a mech; they’d extract what they wanted, and then kill her because of what she was.
Twenty minutes later, the probes had reached the slowly dispersing cloud of ionized gas. Data fed back to the ship, and Potter used the Fury Lance’s tactical systems to build up a model of the gas’s motion and origin point.
As the Nietzschean vessel’s flight path came up, Chase frowned.
t along,> Potter assured him.
“Dammit,” Chase muttered. “That—”
“Sir?” Chief Ona said from her station. “I might have something.”
“I’ll take anything right now,” he admitted.
“Well, I have a copy of some old charts that General Mill kept of Genevian space—he shared them with all the ships’ pilots. They have a bit more detail than what are in the Lance’s astrogation systems.”
“Aaaaand?” Heather asked.
“Well, it’s not much, but there’s a marker seven light years from here that’s on our ghost ship’s vector. It’s a Q9.”
“Q9?” Chase asked.
“Large mass rogue planet,” Heather supplied. “Just a cold ball of gas, drifting in the interstellar darkness.
Chase pursed his lips. “Some sort of black site?”
“Heather, get us on course for that Q9. Inform the fleet that they’re to follow us immediately. That’s our target.”
“You got it, Captain Chase. I’ll coordinate a rally point on the other side,” Heather replied. “Will you go get some sleep now? You’ve been pacing across my bridge for two days.”
Chase grimaced, but nodded. “Yeah, I should be rested for when we kick those Nietzschean asses clear across the galaxy.”
“That’s the spirit,” Heather said with a laugh.
At the door leading off the bridge, Chase paused to look back at the holodisplay just as Garth half jumped out of his chair. “I got them!”
“Them?” Chase asked, striding back onto the bridge.
“Uh, sorry, sir. Alice and Alison. Well, Alison at least; she sent a message via a relay drone.”
“This better be good,” Chase muttered. “Put it up.”
Garth nodded, and Alison’s voice came over the bridge’s audible systems.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Shut up, Kor. Shit! It’s recording already? Why didn’t you—nevermind. Captain Chase, this is Sergeant Alison. Lieutenant Colonel Alice pulled us onto this mission saying she has intel on where Colonel Rika is, but she’s being mighty tightlipped. It smells to us, but not so much that we’re ready to mutiny over it. If you know all about this, then hopefully you won’t be too pissed. But if you don’t, we’re going to the Iberia System. One hell of a jump, so we’ll be playing a lot of Snark. Alice says that you’re all going to follow after once the Niets jump out. So, given that we’re jumping into the lion’s den, here, I really hope that’s the case. A burst is following with our coordinates, vector, and route. Hope we see you on the other side. Sergeant Alison out.”
“Aw, shit,” Chase muttered, rubbing a hand against his face, forgetting that it was a mech hand, and stopping before he scratched his forehead.
“Borden is still on their tail,” Ona said. “He’s twenty light minutes behind, though.”
Chase sighed, nodding slowly. “Doesn’t feel right to send the ISF after them and not mechs.”
A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to see Heather’s serious eyes. “Borden’s the best of the best. You’ve seen the ISF in action—good as mechs. He’ll bring them back.”
“Pass him Alison’s intel. Tell him to bring them back here. This is where we’ll regroup.”
Heather gave Chase a light push. “We know how to do our jobs. Go, get food, sleep. Come back when you smell better.”
A laugh slipped past Chase’s lips. “I’m a mech, I don’t smell.”
“Mech yeah, but you opted for real skin on your noggin.” Heather leant closer and sniffed his hair. “Go wash it.”
Chase shook his head, and walked to the bridge’s exit. “OK, I can take the hint. Let me know if anything changes.”
“Go already!” Heather said, rolling her eyes.
CHORES
STELLAR DATE: 10.14.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: MSS Asora, in orbit of Kansas
REGION: Blue Ridge System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
“Do what you can, Abs,” Vargo said from where he stood on the bridge of the Asora. “I’ll try to keep piracy at bay while you keep the populace from panicking.”
Abs folded her arms and glared at Vargo, two of the mechs in her squad visible behind her in the Memphis spaceport’s CIC. “Easy for you to say from up there, Klen. Normally, I’d say a squad of mechs are enough for any task, but I’ve got a whole planet of people down here, and at least ten thousand Nietzschean soldiers still holed up here and there. Shit’s a bit nuts.”
“Soon as we complete our next orbit, we’ll lob shots at that bunker Musel’s team found,” Vargo assured her. “Make sure they stay clear; we’re gonna nuke it, to save our kinetics for more surgical strikes.”
“What about this senator who’s shown up, demanding to be put in charge?” Abs asked, a look of worry on her face. “I can shoot Niets all day, but politicians scare the fuck out of me.”
Vargo coughed out a laugh. “Not what we thought we’d be doing on this mission, is it?”
“Fuck, no,” Abs groaned. “I hate sitting back here, babysitting, but these are our people, right? They’re the ones we’ve wanted to free from Nietzschea for the past decade. It’s just…”
“Just why are they all such a bunch of whining assholes?” Vargo completed the sergeant’s statement.
“Yeah…that’s the nice way of putting it. Thought we’d get more gratitude, less bitching,” Abs said, her voice dour.
“Don’t let the few complainers get you down,” Vargo replied. “People really do appreciate what we’ve done here—or, they will eventually.”
“I could do with ‘eventually’ showing up really soon.”
Someone yelled something behind Abs, and she rolled her eyes.
“So what about li’l Senator Naia?” she continued.
Vargo sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before responding. “Send her up here in a shuttle. Hopefully it’ll make her feel all important, and maybe I can talk some sense into her. What I really need Senator Naia to do—and Lieutenant Governor Wilcox, if we can get him out of hiding—is rally the people to support us, not pester us with inane requests. Getting all up in arms about every little thing that has peeved them off over the last decade is not helping.”
Abs snorted. “Well, good luck with that. Honestly, she’s not that bad, but she keeps trying to get involved in every local detail. Maybe once she’s up there with you, it will help her see the big picture. Oh, shit, I have a bunch of locals demanding that we round up Nietzschean sympathizers. I have to go.”
“Good luck with that, Sergeant. Vargo out.”
“Sounds like a blast down there, sir,” Chief Ashley said from the Asora’s weapons and comms station.
With the Marauders stretched thin, it was just the two of them on the bridge, while warrant officers Glen, Jakari, and Lexi were down in engineering. One thing was for certain: four people on a five-hundred-meter destroyer made the place feel all but deserted.
Glen asked.
A laugh came from Glen.
Glen laughed and closed the connection without responding.
“
Fuuuuuck,” Vargo muttered as he leaned back in his chair.
“Glen?” Ashley asked.
Vargo made a strangled sound. “How’d you guess?”
“You have a special sigh for Glen.”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I blame Rika for all this. A month ago, I was the one that was all cocksure, mouthing off to the mechs and officers, flying like a maniac. Now I’m the captain, all respectable? How’d that happen?”
Ashley giggled, and Vargo shot her a cold look.
“You giggling at me, Chief?”
“Pretty sure I’m tittering, Captain,” Ashley teased. “Besides, you got your wish; you’re a mech now. And not a shitty GAF mech, you’re an ISF-built 4th Gen.”
A smile lit Vargo’s face as he looked down at his hands, and he smiled. “Yes I am, Ashley. Granted, so are you now. And here we both are, up on this ship instead of down in the dirt, kicking ass.”
Ashley gave a four-armed shrug. “We’ll get our chance soon enough. I’ve been doing drills with the old-timers to get ready.”
“How have you been doing?” he asked the chief, who had opted to become one of the new LHO models. “I remember you were wishing you’d not gone for the extra arms, at the outset.”
The chief lifted all four of her upper limbs in the air, and snapped her fingers in time. “I’m starting to get the hang of it. The ISF medtechs warned me that it would take a bit for my brain to adjust to the mods they made.” Ashley stopped and giggled again—a sound that Vargo found himself liking more and more each time he heard it—before continuing. “For a while, I kept getting my second set of arms and my legs mixed up. Had some embarrassing moments in the mess—once I tried to pick up a tray with my foot for a solid minute before I got it worked out.”
“I guess we all have our crosses to bear,” Vargo replied with a wink. “Shit, we’re coming back around. You ready to nuke some Nietzscheans?”
Ashley tossed Vargo a winning smile. “And you say we never get to have any fun!”
FAMILY
STELLAR DATE: 10.14.8949 (Adjusted Years)