Status Quo: The Chronicle of Jane Doe

by Chris Kuhn

  I wasn't exactly sure what I'd do when I got there, but I figured I'd solve one problem at a time.

  I was approaching the hatch in the missile bay floor now, the same hatch I'd entered through before. I forced myself to slow down. If they were already in the bay, I'd accomplish nothing by popping out of that hole.

  Except to improve their whack-a-mole skills.

  I eased the hatch up a few centimeters and listened. Nothing. Good enough. I shoved it open and climbed into the missile bay. No one was there, but the one remaining anti-matter missile sat on its cargo sled in the middle of the open room.

  I stared at it.

  No way.

  They couldn't have moved it that fast. Could they? And if they had, where the fuck had they gone? Was this a trap of some kind?

  Fuck it.

  If I could get to the missile, I was sure I could disable it. I was no expert, but if I popped open the access hatch on the side and started yanking on shit, I could probably neutralize it.

  Unless it was a trap.

  Maybe it is, but it's also an opportunity. Gotta try.

  I raced over to the missile and slid like a baseball player into it. The panel I needed to open had screws - a lot of screws. I yanked the power driver out of my toolkit, cursing the missile's designers. No reason to have twenty damn screws securing this one fucking panel.

  I was halfway through removing them when the door to the missile bay slid open.

  Log 014: Rocks and Hard Places

  I ducked behind the missile and sled, putting its bulky frame between myself and the door.

  Lousy hiding spot.

  They'd see me as soon as they walked up to the missile, which was - presumably - their purpose in coming here. I eased myself to the deck and peeked around the corner of the sled. Udo and Byers had come in... but not as friends. One of the minions had a weapon trained on Byers. Once they'd entered the bay, the minion - who I officially designated as 'Bob' - shoved Byers to his knees.

  "So, old friend," Udo said, turning to face Byers, "Change of plans."

  "Kinda figured," Byers replied, locking eyes with Udo. "Let me guess... Blow up the Pridemore?"

  "Yup." answered Udo. He grinned. "I imagine we'll have to dial back the missile's power a bit."

  "That wasn't the fucking plan!" Byers spat.

  Udo knelt in front of Byers, lowering his voice.

  "The plan is gone," Udo said. "The cruiser isn't responding because nobody's alive over there. Besides, the missile pod is damaged beyond repair. We have no other means to transport the weapons. Ça me fait chier. We have no time. There is only one thing we can do at this point to advance our objectives."

  "Our objectives?" Byers repeated. "What, you mean suicide?"

  "Not suicide." Udo said, shaking his head. "We still have the lifepods, after all."

  "Then what?"

  "It's not complicated," Udo went on. "This ship - and her capabilities - are critical to expanding the Coalition's power. Power, I might add, that generally goes unchallenged. How many ships have we lost to their interference? How many contracts? How much money? They brazenly invade our space, board our ships, seize our goods. And why not? Until now, they've had nothing to fear from us. When the Pridemore goes kablooey, I suspect the echos will reverberate throughout their halls of power. They'll have to reevaluate things. They'll have to ask themselves - with all the threats they already face with the Brood - whether fucking with us is still in their best interest. This wasn't what I set out to achieve today, but I'll be happy with what I've got. I still have this missile, and after we recover the others outside if the Coalition doesn't back off... well, maybe I wasn't entirely honest about my intentions of not using them on Earth.” Byers made a sound that almost resembled a sob as Udo kept ranting. “Perhaps what the people of Earth really need is to see the horrors from above first-hand to inspire some genuine rage. They'll be MUCH more willing to go to war when we bitch-slap twenty percent of the Human race into oblivion. I'm thinking North America doesn't need to be around anymore... I never liked it much. That's, like, what? A billion people? Wait, no... I should probably leave them to rile up the others. Ooooooh, I know. AUSTRALIA."

  "And if I say no?" Byers asked.

  Udo shrugged, then turned around.

  "Mia!" he bellowed.

  Testosterone Girl entered my field of view.

  Apparently her name is Mia. Not what I'd have guessed. I was thinking more Helga or Brunhilda. She walked over to Byers and knelt down. With more speed than I'd have given him credit for, Byers drew his fist back and punched Mia in the jaw. It was hard to tell, but the blow didn't seem to have done any damage.

  I couldn't say the same for Mia's response.

  With inhuman speed, her open palm slammed into Byers' ribcage. I heard the sickening crack of bone.

  "Jesus!" Byers wailed, falling to the deck.

  "You won't reconsider?" Udo asked, a broad smile on his face.

  "Fuck you for Christmas," Byers choked out.

  Udo looked at Mia again and raised his eyebrows.

  "Harder," Udo said simply.

  I couldn't see what was happening to Byers, but the noise was bad enough. I heard Byers screaming, then a series of sickening sounds followed by more screaming. Then I heard the crash. Something had hit the missile sled, and I felt it shove into my shoulder. I heard Udo curse.

  “Mia,” Udo asked delicately, “could you not throw our captive at the planet-cracking missile?”

  “Where do you want me to throw him, then?” Mia barked.

  “It's a big ship,” Udo said, “find somewhere that's not here.”

  I heard the sound of the sled shifting again, followed by another thud and Byers' whimper. Udo turned and started speaking to someone other than Mia, which I was guessing was minion-Bob.

  "It seems that Mr. Byers won't be assisting us for the moment. I'll need you to set the detonation sequence for the missile. Here are the decrypted codes. Would you be so kind?"

  I couldn't see minion-Bob's face, but he sounded uncertain.

  "Ummmm," Bob said. "I have no fuckin' clue, but I'll give it a look."

  “Excellent!” Udo responded, “I admire your can-do attitude!”

  Minion-Bob moved to the missile. I couldn't see what he was doing, but it wasn't difficult to guess.

  I didn't need to see.

  I heard the soft beeping sounds as his hands played over the keypad and Bob read out loud the prompts on the screen.

  Fuck.

  They were going to detonate it. As quietly as I could, I pulled the pistol out of my tool bag. I stared at it. I could shoot Udo. Maybe. It was a hell of a shot, and I'd have to kill him on my first attempt. Even if I did, I'd be dead shortly afterwards and Bob or Mia or someone else could pick up where he left off. My brain raced thought the options. There weren't many. The best I could come up with was to put a few shots though key parts of the missile before I got killed.

  Of course, I'd only be delaying the inevitable.

  There were still missiles floating outside the Pridemore. An EVA team could bring them back in, and all they'd need is one. Udo still had men for that. Shooting at this one missile would just cost me my life and buy only a little more time. Would it be long enough for the Melbourne to get here? Long enough for Byers to escape somehow and shut down the whole plan? Not something I can count on.

  Fuck.

  As I listened, Bob tapped away and I heard the screen beep in confirmation along with Bob's quiet “yay!” of celebration.

  I had no time to think of clever new plans. No time to bypass and hotwire and scheme. I could shoot at the missile or not shoot at the missile. Those were my options.

  I started firing.

  The first shot went through the missile's nose, shattering the screen next to Bob and sending shrapnel through his hand. The second went through what I assumed was a pressurized tank of some type - a stream of gas shot out of the hole on both sides of the missile. The third went through the
middle of the body and had no obvious effect.

  Before I could fire a fourth time, something heavy smashed into me and I fell to the deck. The pistol landed next to me, and a heavy boot kicked it away. I looked up to see Mia towering over me, a twisted grin on her face.

  "So," Udo said, drawing the weapon from Bob's holster as he lay on the ground clutching his bleeding hand, "You're not a ghost after all."

  Debatable, I thought, grimacing. And highly subject to change.

  Personal Log 426: Boys

  *audible sniffling and ice clinking in a glass*

  So a boy walks into a bar.

  *hiccup*

  He wasn't a boy, really - he'd just turned twenty-one. It would have surprised absolutely no one if he'd ordered a drink, proud of his new ability to do. He didn't. He had no interest in alcohol, because he'd found far more interesting ways to avoid sobriety.

  He hadn't come for the booze, he'd come for the girl sitting by herself and nursing a soda.

  He dropped into the booth and looked at her, and for the first time he saw her as someone other than his sister. She was dressed in black, a conservative and tasteful dress that had suited the morning's event. The boy didn't know what to say, but the silence was comfortable. He picked up a coaster and played with it... like a ninja star... and he looked at his sister's face. He saw the smeared makeup and the distant expression and wondered what she planned to do.

  She looked back at him and asked if he might buy her a shot of liquor. Anything would be fine, she clarified, as long as it wasn't vodka.

  He recoiled.

  He told her that he wasn't going to be responsible for starting her on that path. She told him that it wouldn't matter, that she didn't plan to make it a habit and that if it became one there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. She said this, and she observed that he was the last one who had a right to criticize what she put in her body.

  The boy conceded this point.

  He went to the bar and ordered a whiskey. Then he sat back down, blocking his sister from the bartender's view. He poured the whiskey into her half-empty soda, and she raised the bottle in a silent gesture of thanks.

  He opened his mouth to ask what she was thinking, but she beat him to the question.

  She asked for his thoughts.

  He responded. He told her that he hadn't cared for the eulogy, that the last line had made him angry. The speaker had implored his mother to "be forever with the stars". He hated that phrase. He knew it was customary when people had died in space, but he hated it anyway. For one thing, it had not been accurate. His mother was not among the stars. His mother had been boiled alive during atmospheric entry, an inter-mortem cremation that had spread her remains across the sky of a world he'd never seen.

  But even if his mother had died in space - among the stars - the boy still wouldn't have been happy with the phrase. The phrase was obnoxious and melodramatic. It implied significance where none existed.

  The boy explained all of this to his sister, and she nodded absently and said she agreed. Then she sipped on her drink and he asked her what she intended to do.

  She had no good answer.

  Log 015: The Interview

  Two of Udo's men searched me.

  I didn't know either of their names, but they were efficient. When they got done checking my pockets, they moved on to my tool kit. I watched them take everything out and examine it. As they did so, Udo approached Bob, who was standing next to the missile with his hand wrapped in shredded fabric.

  "Status?" he asked. Minion-Bob cocked his head.

  "What, besides this?" Bob asked, raising the bloody mess of what used to be his hand. "It ain't good, that's for damn sure." The two of them then turned to the shattered missile. “Oh, yeah, that. I'm pretty sure the missile's fucked.”

  "Then go get another one," Udo said easily.

  "Sir?"

  "Take Mr. Leach here with you, get in EVA gear, go outside the ship to where the missiles are, and bring one of them back in." Udo clarified.

  "Sir..." Bob began, then trailed off.

  "Yes?" Udo demanded.

  "Sir, there's still time to get off the ship. The lifeboats can take us down to the-"

  "The lifeboats," Udo said, interrupting him, "Will still be here after we finish our work."

  Something passed across Bob's face. Anger? Disgust? Udo obviously saw it too.

  "You know what?" Udo snapped, "disregard that order."

  "Mia!" Udo called out. "What is your present location?" I heard no response, but after a moment Udo nodded and turned back to Bob and the other two minions.

  "There is gymnasium two decks down and one section aft." Udo said, walking to the damaged missile and yanking a tie-down strap from it. "Go there and relieve Mia." He thrust the strap into Bob's good hand. "Secure Mr. Byers." Bob nodded wordlessly and turned to leave the bay. "Oh," Udo called out as an afterthought. "Since it is a gymnasium, you might take advantage of the opportunity to work out any... frustrations you may be feeling."

  Not waiting for a response, Udo turned to the last two men in the bay.

  "You ready for some EVA work, gentlemen?" He demanded. They both nodded, one more hesitantly than the other.

  "Then go get me a missile."

  Udo watched until all of his men had left the bay.

  Just the two of us.

  I stood wearily, and he had me follow him to a worktable in the far corner of the bay.

  "Sit," he said.

  I sat. He looked around for another chair. Not finding one, he flipped a nearby trash can upside down and lowered himself onto it.

  "You realize you didn't change anything," he said. "We'll have that missiles here in...” he shrugged... "Forty-five minutes, tops. Still plenty of time before the Melbourne makes it back."

  I didn't respond.

  "And what's even more interesting," he continued, "is that it would never have come to this if it weren't for your actions." I glared at him. "I'll kill you if I have to," he continued, "But it'd be nice if it didn't come to that."

  "For once I agree with you," I assured him.

  "Join us," he replied, staring at me with a huge grin.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Join the Free Trader's Legion. You're competent, resourceful, and you look really cute in cover-alls.”

  I stared at his face.

  "You're serious," I realized, taken aback. "What makes you think I'd even consider it?"

  He withdrew his small tablet again, raising his eyebrows to indicate its significance.

  "I don't know what that is," I said.

  "Then let me help you." He cleared his throat and began reading from the document in a really convincing American sounding accent that mocked Captain Wiley. "'Memorandum for the Office of Naval Personnel. From Wiley, Trevor. Commanding Officer, HMS Pridemore. Subject: Re-enlistment recommendation.” My heart sank in my chest. “During her time aboard this vessel, this crewman has demonstrated high levels of technical competence. However, her conduct and character are inconsistent with the best traditions of the Coalition Navy. Recommend discharge after her current term of service.'"

  He set the tablet on the table and crossed his arms.

  "How did you get that?" I demanded.

  "I assure you, it was the least challenging thing I've done today,” Udo said back in his natural Frenchy accent. “You're out of a job, kiddo, and it doesn't sound like you'll be heartbroken to leave it."

  "The Navy and I have had our issues," I admitted.

  "To say the least. Your record is a case study in underachievement and anti-social tendencies. These documents do not speculate as to the cause, but I'll take a guess. You lost your mother..."

  "Oh, good," I interrupted, "I've always wondered how that affected me."

  "I don't know," he said carefully, "but I know you were an emancipated minor. You joined the Navy with a waiver at age sixteen. It sure as hell seems like you were running from something."

  "The unemployment li
ne. What the fuck do you care?"

  "Fine," he said, shrugging, "but whatever happened, I'll assume your life wasn't ideal. You had no sense of belonging. Judging by your records, you sure as hell didn't find it here. I can give you that."