Suicide Mission: Unity War Book 2

by C. G. Michaels

  They turned to see Jaden enter the bar. She beckoned to them and to Temple, who had his arm around the sad soul at the juke box.

  “Lange wants us in the Ready Room,” she said. “We’ve got a mission coming up in the morning, and he wants to brief us. Look alive.”

  Garner finished his beer in one swallow and followed her out of the bar, Fault matching him step for step so that they ended up on either side of her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Inside Nommos’s atmosphere

  Fault flew in formation along with An, Garner, Lanei, Jaden, and Temple over the Nommosian landscape, the headlamps of their Banshees casting great pools of light that sped along beneath them. Trouble was, scads of frothy smog danced and slithered thickly above the landscape, hiding everything from sight even with the headlamps.

  “Damn!” Fault said. “Can’t see nothin’!”

  “Where is all this smog coming from, anyway?” Jaden asked, sounding pissed herself.

  “The smoke is drifting from Amma City, just northwest of here,” Lanei said in a voice laced with nostalgia. She was from Nommos, and it sounded like she missed it a lot more than Fault missed Osiris. “The fog comes off the River Hapi, which is almost right below us.”

  “Yeah, well, Nommos oughta clean up its skies,” Fault said.

  “Maybe we would if Osiris would share its technology with us!”

  “What, you can’t figure out for yourselves how to use clean energy?”

  “Children,” Temple said, “behave.”

  “Visibility would be low even without the smog,” An said. “Looks like there are a lot of really tall trees growing in the area.”

  “We’re never gonna spot a downed Copperhead from up here,” Garner said. “We’re gonna have to land and hoof it.”

  Fault searched for a decent landing spot, but Temple found it first: “There,” he said. “There’s a big hill we can use to get the lay of the land. We ought to set down near that.”

  The trees happened to thin out nearby, and Garner led the team that way, taking a clearing surrounded by towering pines and poplars. It took some maneuvering to set the Banshees down without scraping the treetops on the way, but they made it, and got out to have a look at their surroundings.

  Fault liked how the ground felt underfoot—firm but giving, so that his footfalls made less sound than usual. The air stank some from the smog coming in, but there were pleasant smells, too, like grass and earth and wildflowers. He could smell the river, as well, and hear its roar not far away. Robins, jays, and wrens cried from hidden branches, some singing territorial songs, and some cussing the humans out for invading their space. One of the wrens made himself visible in a bit of scrub, bobbing his head up and down in a threatening gesture and calling a raspy, “Bzz-bzz-bzz!”

  Fault figured that must be wren for “Get the hell off my land!”

  He wasn’t good with flowers, but he did recognize the ones growing in the clearing as clover, which he knew rabbits liked; and there were some kind of tiny blue flowers covering the ground near the woods. He couldn’t tell if either of those were the ones that smelled so good or if something else grew among the trees. It felt nice to be out in the open for a change, instead of always trapped inside a warship or his Banshee, but they didn’t have time to relish it; they had work to do.

  “Come on,” Jaden said, as if reading his mind. “Let’s get up that hill.”

  The vegetation got denser as they neared the hill, weeds, timothy grass, and undergrowth all vying for space, and saplings sprang up before long, a prequel to the continuing forest. They tramped through the greenery, leaving the clearing and their Banshees behind, their boots crackling and rustling with every step.

  “Hold up,” Temple said, and lifted a fist, signalling a halt.

  “What is it?” Lanei asked.

  “Sh-h! I heard something. Wait—there it is again. Did you hear that?”

  Fault listened. And underneath the clamor of the river and the birdsong, he did hear something: sort of a growly sound, but not menacing. More like young animals playing.

  “Oh, my god, look!” Temple pointed, and they all saw the pair of black bear cubs wrestling at the foot of a poplar.

  Earth had terraformed all the Colonial homeworlds, filling them with life indigenous to Earth, so all of the Colonies resembled one another and, of course, Earth—although a few unusual life forms had popped up unexpectedly on each of the Colonial planets, altering their biospheres.

  The bear cubs, along with the surrounding area, provided an example of how the biospheres had remained alike, however. Fault might well have been standing in a forest on Osiris, Earth, or any of the other Colonies, and he would not have known the difference.

  “Those cubs are young,” Garner said. “Their mother can’t be far awa—”

  He was interrupted by a piercing scream from Lanei as the mother bear crashed through the understory and barrelled into her—likely because she happened to be the nearest victim. Lanei put her hands up in defense, the bear grabbed her by the arm, and she went down. Everyone else automatically drew, Fault aiming between the beast’s eyes.

  “Don’t kill her!”

  Fault glared at Jaden. “Why the hell not?!”

  Jaden and the others fired near the bear, but not at her. “She’s got cubs! Just scare her off!”

  Their shots very quickly got the animal’s attention; she quit mauling Lanei and lumbered towards the rest of them, roaring the while, her teeth long and white inside a wet, red mouth.

  “Oh, my god!” Temple said, and began running, the others hot on his heels, the bear hot on theirs.

  “Split up!” Garner jumped over a small bush and veered right. “Temple—circle around and get Lanei!”

  Jaden ran in the same general direction as Garner, while Temple and An went left, and Fault kept a straight path. The bear followed him—of course—and Fault put on speed, weaving a path through the greenery, trying to create a route the bear would be too big to follow. But the trees stood a decent space apart here, and the bear simply broke through whatever brambles or tangles he managed to put between them. Nothing seemed to slow her down.

  In fact, she was gaining on him. He sincerely hoped Temple had made it back to Lanei and was carrying her off to safety, because he had to get this bear off his tail. He came to an abrupt stop, took aim, and fired. The laser went exactly as he’d directed it, close enough to the bear’s shoulder that it singed her without doing any permanent damage.

  The bear howled, skidding to a halt and licking at the wound. She sniffed the air confusedly, then huffed and ambled back in the direction of her cubs, either afraid of Fault or satisfied he was far enough away from her family not to worry about anymore.

  “Everybody,” Temple said over Fault’s headset. “I’ve got Lanei. It doesn’t look good.”

  “How not good?” An asked.

  “Well, she’s out cold, but that’s probably good. She bled a lot, and I’m sure she’d be in a lot of pain if she were conscious.”

  “Have you bound her wounds?” Jaden asked.

  “As best I can.” He sounded worried, and with good reason—not having sufficient room in their Banshees for supplies, and not having cause to think they’d run into trouble on a friendly world, all they had was the most basic of first aid kits. “I’m back at the LZ. I already radioed the Takarabune, and they’re sending a shuttle.”

  “Sit tight,” Jaden said. “We’re on our way.”

  “I don’t know what else to do.” He didn’t say, “Please hurry,” but it was in his tone.

  They all raced to the landing zone to find Temple sitting on the ground with Lanei’s head in his lap, her face frighteningly pale. Blood covered both their torsos.

  “God,” An said. “Where was she bitten?” They all gathered close, except Fault, who stood a ways off, keeping lookout, not wanting to see Lanei in that condition.

  “On her arm and chest, from what I could tell. Like I said, there was a lot
of blood. But I think I stopped the bleeding, at least mostly.”

  Jaden touched Lanei’s forehead, her cheek, and Fault looked away, uncomfortable. “Hang on,” Jaden begged her. “Just hang on.”

  “Some of us oughta keep goin’ with the mission,” Fault said.

  “I’m not leaving her,” Temple said.

  “A couple of us ought to stay,” Garner said, “in case the bear comes back.”

  “I’ll stay,” Jaden said. Fault risked a glance in her direction, saw the concern in her eyes.

  “Okay. An, Fault, and I’ll go search for a useable Copperhead. You two help the medics get Lanei squared away, then catch up with us.”

  “Will do,” Temple said, and then they went on their way, going the long way around the edge of the clearing where they saw the cubs.

  “We should sing,” An said presently.

  Fault glared at him. “What the fuck for?”

  “I heard you’re supposed to sing something when you’re going through an area where there might be bears. If they hear you coming, they leave. No shooting, no running, no biting. Everybody’s happy.”

  “Okay . . . ” Garner sounded unsure. “What do we sing?”

  “I don’t know. The only thing I can think of is a Christmas song.”

  “Okay . . . ”

  “Okay, remember, we have to sing loud.”

  “God,” Fault said, “we’re not really gonna do this, are we?”

  “Good King Wenceslas looked out,” An sang.

  “On the feast of Stephen—Fault, if we have to sing, you have to sing.”

  “I don’t know the damn song!”

  “Sing anyway,” An said. “Deep and crisp and e-ven!”

  “God. Something, something moon that night.”

  “Louder! Really belt it!”

  “Something, something round a-bout!”

  “Already sang that lyric, but go for it! Gathering winter fu-el!” They climbed the hill they’d spotted in their Banshees, and only stopped singing when they’d reached the top, where An offered them a smug smile. “See? No bears.”

  “Shut up. Jackass.”

  Garner used his binoculars to scout the area while An waited patiently beside him and Fault paced back and forth. “There,” Garner said, and handed the binoculars to An.

  “It’s actually pretty close.”

  “Yeah, and there’s another one not too far off, a little to the south.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Fault, and led the way down the slope.

  They made good time, and they examined both Copperheads as intimately as they could, considering they were unfamiliar with the ships’ technology. Even so, they could see that one of them had significantly less obvious damage, so they chose that one to bring back to the Takarabune. Temple and Jaden joined them as soon as they were able, and helped hook the chosen Copperhead to titanium cables, which were already connected to both Fault’s and Garner’s Banshees. They used the same system to carry Lanei’s fighter back home, Jaden and An supporting it between their Banshees, Temple flying point with the rest of them fanning out behind him.

  They flew home in silence.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Just inside the Nommos atmosphere

  Brid walked quickly down the corridor, her boots clacking on the metal deck. The Takarabune and others like her did have carpet in some areas, namely, the bridge, private quarters, the rec room, Ready Room, and the officers’ lounge and offices. It didn’t make sense to carpet the Mess, the docking bay, or the constantly traversed corridors, so plain metal—not even painted—shone up at you whenever you went anywhere.

  She rounded a corner, saluted a lower-ranking officer, and continued on her path to the docking bay, her Palm computer in her hand. She intended to take notes, because although she had a trusty memory, she wanted the freedom to review details that might end up fuzzy in her brain hours later.

  Although she knew the docking bay stayed hotter than the rest of the ship, she had kept her uniform jacket on in an attempt to set a good example. She always thought it prudent to look as professional as you possibly could.

  Hot air blasted her as she opened the hatch to the docking bay, and for an instant she regretted the jacket. She went in anyway, heading for the far end of the bay, where she knew Nuria had set up shop for this particular venture.

  Brid found them gathered around the battered Copperhead the 15th had brought back, Nuria, Grim, and other mechanics whose names she did not know. The group started to come to attention at her presence, but she waved the effort down. “At ease,” she said. “Please. I’m only here to observe.”

  “Forgive me, ma’am,” Nuria said, “but ‘only here to observe’ to a grease monkey can mean an entirely different thing to a Star Force officer.”

  The corner of Brid’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. It was true; she knew from experience. When she’d served as an ensign aboard the Tangaroa, Lieutenant Trask had stood at her station “only to observe,” and had done just that—until he decided he’d seen enough, and proceeded to let her know exactly what she had done wrong, and exactly how many times she had done it wrong. Of course, “wrong” had also proven subjective. To Trask, “wrong” meant she had not done it his way.

  “Let me say then that I’m not here to pass judgement, but to ask questions and learn,” Brid said. She lifted her Palm. “I want to take notes, that’s all.”

  “As you would, ma’am.” Nuria maintained a carefully crafted neutral expression. Apparently, Brid thought, she would have to earn the trust of the hard-nosed mechanic. To that end, she stepped back to afford them room.

  The mechanics started off by examining every aspect of the outside of the Copperhead, taking meticulous measurements and drawing the details on an ArtPad. Brid refrained from taking notes at this point; what interested her more was the function of the inner workings and what made these ships able to survive the ravages of the wormholes.

  The team had progressed to the canopy, opening it gently so as not to cause more damage. Grim was moving his hands all over the outer hull, feeling every inch of the craft, every curve and line.

  “The surface is quite smooth,” he said. “Almost slick. And I’ve found something here.” He moved aside for the others to take a look. Brid waited her turn, eager and trying not to show it.

  She couldn’t make it out with her eyes; apparently it had the same color and was made of the same metal as the rest of the ship. But she could feel it: a slightly rougher texture, about an inch in diameter, and round, set flat in the hull. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, but I have a theory. If I may . . .?”

  She stepped back, and Grim found the rough spot with his fingers, then pressed it. The canopy went down, smooth as glass. When he pressed it again, the canopy opened slowly.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Moore!”

  He beamed. “An advantage, surely, to our own Banshees, which have to be opened manually.”

  “Indeed. Unless, of course, the mechanism sticks.”

  His face fell. “Oh. Yes. Well, we’ll have to add a manual override, of course.” If a black man could blush, she thought, he would do just that.

  She touched his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You did well to find the mechanism at all.”

  The mechanics had moved on to the Copperhead’s controls, taking notes, measuring again, and sketching some more. Brid took copious notes of her own, and photographs when she was sure she wasn’t going to get in the way.

  She looked up as she saw a familiar, pudgy figure approach.

  “I brought you this, Captain,” said Kaipo as he reached her, and handed her a fresh coffee. “I made sure to get it extra hot so it would stay warm on the way here.” He wiped his brow. “Although perhaps you’d prefer an iced tea?”

  The aroma of brewed arabica beans drifted towards her nostrils. She inhaled deeply. “No, Kaipo, thank you; this is fine.” More than fine, actually. She took her first sip and found it hot indeed, delightfully so. Sh
e made a contented noise.

  Nuria had cracked open the Copperhead, exposing its inner workings. Kaipo gave a low whistle and knelt, his eyes round as he took in the complex parts. “That’s some ship! My God, she’s a beauty!”

  “I didn’t know you had a love for mechanical things, Kaipo.”

  “If it takes fuel and I can tinker with it, ma’am, it’s my favorite thing in the world. Next to piloting the Takarabune, anyway.”

  “Do you have any aptitude for this kind of thing?”

  “I built my motorcycle back home from scratch. I spend my leave time tinkering with anything I can get my hands on, ma’am.”

  “Then you’re welcome to stay and pick up a few pointers, as long as you’re not needed on the bridge.”

  His entire face lit up. “Really? I’d love that, ma’am!”

  She caught Nuria’s look of disapproval and added, “Just be sure not to get in anyone’s way.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” He nodded sincerely.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes, Nuria?”

  “The outer hull seems to be coated in something. I’m guessing that’s what keeps the Copperheads from frying in the wormhole.”

  “What is it?”

  “We’re not sure. In order to find out, we need to study its molecular structure, and in order to speed things up on that end, we need more Copperheads. Whatever it is, it’s something we’ve never seen before.”

  Brid nodded. “I’ll get you more ships. Keep working on it.” She took her leave and headed for Samson Lange’s office, intending to enlist the 15th again.

  * * *

  Brid had spent all morning in the docking bay, watching Nuria’s team and taking notes, and had gone over those notes while eating lunch. Now, after a quick shower and a change of uniform to refresh herself, she intended to visit some people in the Infirmary. One of the 15th Squadron’s members, a Lieutenant Lanei Nicolson, had suffered injuries while on the mission to retrieve the Copperhead, and Brid wanted to thank her personally. In addition, the Infirmary still held a number of crew members who had been hurt in the Freyr Ambush. Thank God they had at least been able to relocate most of the civilian refugees from the Lotan and Osiris attacks. At least they had a bit more room to breathe, and could afford to feed themselves properly. They had all gone hungry when they’d had to take care of the refugees on top of the crew.