He’d vowed never to be that guy. If something was wrong, he had to do something to stop it.
He felt like he’d failed on that promise during his first away mission. That was why the vomit smell was coming back to him so hard now—it was a reminder of his gutlessness. He should have been the one to stand up to the Lùhng then. He’d told himself he was staying behind with the others to protect them, but truth was he hadn’t accompanied Jax, Savea, and Sotomayor because he was afraid.
You were afraid then, but that doesn’t make you a coward. Not if you resolve to do better. Not if you make amends.
And this can’t stand. This omission was it for him, the last straw. He couldn’t think of a single positive reason why the Lùhng might keep their lineage hidden.
If someone was coming for them, like Dr. Jax surmised, it wasn’t going to end well for the convoy, he was sure. They had to do something before they ended up slaves, or lap dogs, or Soylent Green.
We can’t stay here. But they couldn’t run, either. And they had no way to fight.
Or did they . . .
Steve stood outside the service entrance to Breath’s shuttle maintenance hangar, staring through the narrow slit of a window in the door, his breath fogging the glass.
Inside were the remaining experiment pods. Each sat in the angular mandibles of a hydraulic lift. They looked like scrumptious pink fruit in the clawed palm of a monster—something out of an altered fairy tale, like those Steve’s mother had read to him when he was young.
He liked fairy tales, truth be told. There were heroes, and there were villains, and no one fudged on the matters of morality.
When dragons appeared, you fought them. It didn’t matter if they were there to eat virgins, burn down houses, or hoard gold.
Dragons were for slaying.
But swords wouldn’t work against their dragons. Neither would shock batons. With that whump device of theirs, all melee weapons were off the table.
They could machine the parts they needed for guns, probably. And he figured it might not be a bad idea to put that into motion. But you had to be close enough to see a dragon to shoot it.
What they really needed was a way to cripple the Lùhng ships themselves, from afar. Trap the bastards in their caves, so that when the convoy tried to run again, no dragon would follow.
Explosives would do the trick. A nice remote-detonated blast would be very satisfying.
But he had something even better in mind.
Steve tapped a jaunty rhythm against the window, pleased with himself for realizing a well-placed SD bubble could be as devastating as any bomb.
It’s why we’re in this hellish nightmare to begin with, after all.
And it would be so easy—launch a pod, dive it into a known travel SD, and program it to reemerge wherever you wanted it to—say in the middle of a Lùhng engine room? Or the bridge?
Or Kali’s horror show of a bedroom?
There’d be no way to stop it.
The calculations wouldn’t even be all that complicated—the Lùhng ships maintained steady distances, their drift was uniform, and their speed constant. He was pretty sure even he could do the math.
Careful coordination would be the tricky part. They’d have to launch all the pods without arousing any suspicion, and the minute they were sure the local Lùhng were distracted, they’d have to dive—the Lùhng near the megastructure field could arrive in no time to provide backup, and the humans would need to be long gone by then.
Once they left, he was sure they could make it on their own. They had plenty of water, Dr. Jax’s farm was thriving, and all of their convoy repairs were holding.
We can do this, he realized. We don’t have to just give in, sit back, and wait for whatever they’re going to do with us.
With a spring in his step, he made his way back to his quarters on Pulse, pulled out some extra holoflex-sheets, and began to formalize his plan.
Under different circumstances, Steve would have presented his ideas to the lead security officer, and let him decide if it was worth presenting to command. But he didn’t want to waste time jumping through any more hoops than he had to. Luckily, he was able to leverage his position as a member of one of the Lùhng away teams to wrangle an immediate meeting with the captains in Tan’s ready room.
His presentation was brief, but detailed. Tan occupied his desk, while Baglanova stood at ease.
Aksel Baglanova had made his earthly home in Saint Petersburg, Russia, and had run ships in the Baltic long before running them in space. He was a taut, angular man, with a shock of straight sandy hair that he always kept slicked back with what looked like industrial-strength hair gel.
Both captains were calm, precise men. Both were stern and discerning.
Neither spoke until he was finished, but Steve could tell by the hardening expression on Tan’s face that he did not like what he heard.
Steve tried not to feel deflated.
“You’re proposing a preemptive strike,” Tan said flatly.
“Yes. But the goal isn’t to kill Lùhng, or even destroy their property, just to disorient them. Keep them busy with their own problems while we get away.”
“Not destroy their property?” Tan asked incredulously. “And yet Lùhng casualties are likely.”
Yes, and who cares? Steve grumbled internally.
“Yes, it’s dramatic. But I think this is an excellent idea,” Captain Baglanova said suddenly. “It risks minimal equipment and personnel, and has a high chance of success.”
“I don’t agree with that assessment in the slightest,” Tan countered. His eye twitched ever so slightly. It was clear he was doing his best to maintain his stoicism, but beneath, something was boiling. “We would be destroying the majority, if not all, of our experiment pods, limiting Kapoor and Dogolea’s investigation into our accident. And if something goes awry, we’re risking the entire convoy. Say the pods fail to hit their mark, or the extra Lùhng ships arrive sooner than expected and are able to give chase—what would they do when they caught us? Our standing with them is razor thin as is.”
“But we haven’t earned such handling,” Baglanova pointed out. “That’s part of the point. They pull us in, push us away, won’t let us leave. Won’t let us do anything else, really. They have no reason to fear us, but they keep treating us as though—”
“So, you propose we give them a reason?” Tan asked. “Our goal right now should be de-escalation, not some hairbrained attempt at escape that can only be managed by committing an act of war against a more advanced civilization.”
“What is the point of staying, Tan?” Baglanova asked. “They haven’t shared anything valuable with us since our initial plea for basic necessities. They’ve even stopped responding to our messages. I know you believe they can help us with our medical crises and our displacement, but they’ve given us no reason to trust that they will.”
“Diplomacy, these types of relationships—”
“Take trust, patience, I know,” Baglanova interrupted. “And if the Lùhng had handled things differently, I might believe as you do. But there is no proof they’re acting in good faith. Just because we know they’re post-human doesn’t mean they relate to us on a human level. Doctor Jax compared their position to us finding human ancestors, correct? Just how human would we treat a group of Neanderthals, do you think?”
“We have more of a fighting chance here—where we have access to resources and information—than out there, alone,” Tan said firmly, ignoring the other captain’s flippant comparison.
“We don’t know that,” said Baglanova.
“Yes, we do. End of discussion. We are not going to attack our allies based on fearmongering. I’ve heard the speculation, the rumors. We are a scientific convoy, and we do not bend to conspiracy theory and hearsay.” Tan pointed roughly at Steve. “There will be no preemptive strikes on my watch, understood?”
“Then ask to leave,” Baglanova said lightly, crossing his arms and leaning back against t
he wall. Steve was sure he was trying to pull off “casual suggestion” and “firm challenge” simultaneously. “If they’re so benevolent, communicate our concerns and tell them we wish to leave. We have their coordinates—if we want to return, we can.”
Captain Tan was silent for a long moment, calculating. Finally, he said, “That would put undue strain on our relationship.”
“Our sitting here is putting undue strain on our relationship with our crew,” Baglanova countered. “This waiting game, it feels like giving up—”
“Our crew is reasonable. And they can be made to understand that patience is an active measure. We don’t truly know how volatile the post-humans are, as you keep saying. And you are absolutely right, they hold an incredible amount of physical sway over us—”
“Which is why Weaver’s plan is a sound choice. If we remove ourselves from the threat, we can regroup and reassess the post-humans from a distance. We can write our own terms of engagement. We don’t have to give in to their whims or their demands.”
Tan stood abruptly. “Thus far, we are the only ones making demands. We are the ones that showed up out of nowhere. We are the ones that required resources and—”
Steve grew bold. “But that doesn’t give them the right to treat our crew members as they have.” When the captains didn’t immediately order him into silence, he continued. “Respect is important. Dignity is important. If they’re willing to disregard our autonomy under such benign circumstances, doesn’t that point to a larger threat? A contempt for our independence that could mean more than this bizarre version of house arrest we’re under? Why should we believe they wouldn’t outright imprison us? Or trade us? Or kill us just because we’ve become too much to deal with? The longer we stay here without communications or concessions, the easier it is to believe that our well-being is not a top priority for them. And why should it be? As you said, Captain, we’re an unexpected burden.”
Tan ground his teeth, seethed through them. “We have no evidence they mean us any harm.”
“So why shouldn’t we back away?” Steve asked. “We ran to begin with because we weren’t sure what their intent was. Truth is, we still don’t know.”
Tan looked between the two men, face taut. “You rail against the Lùhng’s lack of humanity, but want to engage in the most fundamentally abhorrent aspects of ours. A first strike is never an option, do you understand me?”
“Yessir,” Steve said.
Tan glared at Baglanova, until he, too, said, “Yes . . . sir.”
“I will ask them to move off to a symbolic distance—whatever would satisfy you,” Tan conceded.
Steve opened his mouth to protest. There was no symbolic distance far enough. The point was to ensure they were out of the Lùhng’s reach.
He’d only uttered a single syllable before Baglanova held up a hand and interrupted with, “What if they refuse?”
“Then we will reassess at that time.”
Both captains stared at one another, their bodies rigid lines, each an exclamation point on his own statement.
Tension filled the air with an invisible prickling, like crackling static, and Steve wondered which man would blink first. No one was getting what they wanted, but the tide was turning—something was changing, their understandings of one another rearranging.
“Are we adjourned?” Captain Baglanova asked tersely.
“Aye,” Tan replied, tuning on his heel, leaving abruptly. The tension wafted out after him, like a cloud of irritated flies.
Over the next few days, Steve attended to his duties quietly, waiting for news. He had no reason to doubt Tan would send the message, but he wondered how long the captain would wait for a reply before admitting diplomacy had failed.
The worst part was, whatever pull he’d thought he had with Tan, being a member of the away team, seemed to have evaporated. The captain wouldn’t grace him with more than a curt nod in public.
He felt unfairly cut off. So what if he’d proposed something Tan thought unsavory? Why should that earn him a cold shoulder?
Nearly a week after his proposal, he appealed to Sotomayor for information. But all she’d say was that Tan had given her a direct order not to discuss the situation.
He pressed others around the gym, hoping the casual setting would relax some lips. Dr. Dogolea on the stair-stepper said he was out of the loop. Esmée Jensen, grunting through her bicep curls, said she didn’t even know what he was talking about. Guy de Roux, who worked on Breath’s bridge and was currently doing push-ups near the mirrors, said he hadn’t heard anything. “But Captain Baglanova is anxious about it,” he said. “If you find anything, you be sure to let me know.”
He was so hard up for a scrap of new info, that when Mendez Perez sauntered into the gym and hoisted himself onto the pull-up bar, he nonchalantly headed over to the former ADCO’s side.
They’d never really gotten over Stone’s time in the brig. They weren’t friends, that was for certain, but it wasn’t like they were sworn enemies. And he had no idea where Stone came down on the post-human revelation: was he pro-or anti-dragon?
“Hey,” he said, trying to act casual.
“Hey,” Stone said, mid chin-up.
“Tan have any luck persuading the Lùhng to chat again?”
Stone gritted his teeth as he eased himself down before hoisting himself up once more. His dog tags and Dr. Kapoor’s sundial hung inertly against his chest. “No idea.”
“Kind of fucked up they didn’t tell us, right? About the genetic hybrid thing.”
Stone side-eyed him. “I guess.”
Steve scoffed internally. You guess? “Do you think the captain is handling this right?”
That seemed to give Stone genuine pause. He let go of the bar, dropping deftly to the floor, having done a whole six reps. “You’d handle it differently?”
“You don’t think he rolls with the punches a little too easily? Shouldn’t he stick up for us more? Demand respect on our behalf?”
“How’s he supposed to do that?”
Over Stone’s shoulder, Steve caught sight of the doorway. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered, brushing by Stone (whose huffy response he ignored).
In walked Captain Tan, flanked by Mac Savea and Kurt Böhm. It was the first time Tan had made his way to the gym since before its opening.
“What can I do for you, Captain?” Steve asked.
Tan wrinkled his nose instead of answering. Steve noticed how pungent the space had gotten. Too many sweaty bodies in one place. He’d do an extra wash of everything when he closed down today.
“I’m sure Lieutenant Way would be happy to vacate the stationary bike if you’d like a go, or I’d be happy to spot you on weights. Anything you want to try.” Maybe if he put on a friendly face, the captain would see that he’d meant no offense. He wanted to protect the convoy just as much as the command team.
“That’s not why we’re here,” the captain said firmly, his gaze pinpointing something on the other side of the gym. “I was informed there’s been a conduct violation. I’m here to vet the report myself.”
Steve was genuinely confused. Everyone who’d used the gym had done so with the utmost respect for both the equipment and their crewmates. There hadn’t been any fights, any harassment. No destruction, or improper usage of any apparatus. “Conduct violation?”
Tan, whose expression remained stern, pointed a firm finger. “That. The vandalism.”
He was pointing at the punching bags. “You mean the faces?” They all had permanent likenesses now. “I wouldn’t call that vandalism.”
“You authorized it, then?”
“Yes. And Captain Baglanova said it was fine—”
“Captain Baglanova and I disagree on many things,” Tan said curtly. “Planet United Consortium regulations prohibit the defacement or mutilation of communal property. In addition, the depictions are vulgar. In my opinion, they have the potential to erode convoy morale and deteriorate future interactions with our hosts. I wa
nt those bags scrubbed and those caricatures gone by 1900 hours.”
With that he turned and left, Mac and Kurt following after. The gym-goers were left in stunned silence, and Steve stood frozen to the spot, astounded by the captain’s overreach of authority.
Stone surprised Steve, coming up on him from behind to give him a patronizing pat on the shoulder, “Point me toward the soap,” he said, aiming for the towel rack.
He was followed close behind by Sotomayor. Steve remembered how she’d turned up her nose at the original Lùhng bag with a holier-than-thou attitude.
Oh, yeah, Steve thought sarcastically, I wonder who the snitch was.
As he grabbed a few more towels, stomping off to the supplies closet to prepare a wash bucket, he silently seethed.
Here he was again, getting sucker punched by the big kid with an authority figure just standing by, idle and inept. Only this time the big kid was a horde of post-human monsters, and it wasn’t just Steve’s brain taking a bashing. The whole convoy was getting screwed.
He slammed the full wash bucket on the deck beneath the speed bag with the red face, and water sloshed over the edges to soak the thin carpet. He didn’t care.
The first wet swipe across the crimson graffiti left a smeared red streak right through the grinning face, pulling the grotesque lips wide. It was almost like it was laughing at him. See, you can never escape, it giggled. He scrubbed at it all the harder, the soap turning pink and foamy, his pale knuckles staining red.
No. No! He wasn’t going to give up that easily. Getting the hell out of here mattered now more than ever, because Captain Tan was clearly long gone. He’d given up, given in, and Steve . . .
Steve no longer recognized his authority.
And that . . . that was fine.
It was for the greater good. This needed to be done, and if Tan was too enamored of the Lùhng—or too brainwashed or too weak, whatever—it wouldn’t stop Steve from doing the right thing.
Noumenon Infinity Page 43