Suicide Mission: Unity War Book 2

by C. G. Michaels

  Brid found Lanei’s bed and discovered Carey Jain there, taking the patient’s vitals and giving her a once-over. Brid gave him a once-over while he wasn’t looking, and quickly put her gaze to Lanei when Carey noticed her presence.

  Lanei had an oval face, lovely brown skin, gently arching brows, and black hair that someone had taken the trouble to arrange in an attractive style. Her hands lay on her lap, her long, rounded nails enhancing the delicate quality of her slender fingers. She was thin, but possessed a nice figure.

  “Lieutenant Nicolson, how are you doing?”

  “I’m doing real well, ma’am, thanks.”

  The bruises and bandages spoke a different story. “I heard you were very brave.”

  Lanei smiled. It was a very pretty smile. “I don’t know about that, ma’am. And now I’m stuck here, and I hear the 15th is going on another mission. I wish I could go with them.”

  “They wish the same. Apparently, your expertise and your company will be sorely missed.”

  That smile again. Brid supposed many a man had fallen for that smile.

  “I want you back at work, too. Therefore, you’re under strict orders to do as Doctor Jain tells you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. That means a lot to me.”

  Brid nodded, touched Lanei’s hand, and moved off to speak privately with Carey. “What’s the prognosis?”

  “Well, she was seen to fairly quickly, and she’s strong and mostly upbeat. I expect a full recovery. But I’m afraid she’s going to be out of commission for a while.”

  “But she won’t have any difficulty returning to work? No nerve damage?”

  “Nothing permanent. I hear her friends did a good job of getting the bear to let go of her. That may have saved her life.”

  “Take good care of her. The 15th are a good group. I’d hate for them to lose another of their own.”

  “I’ll keep a special eye on her.”

  “I’d like to visit some of the other patients, if that’s acceptable.”

  “I think they’d like that.” He smiled, an expression that never failed to disarm her. He had a handsome smile, and a genuine one. For an instant she pretended that smile was just for her. But only for an instant; Carey was a fantasy, and would remain so.

  She went to boost the morale of the injured. By the end of the afternoon, the 15th had retrieved what they needed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Just inside the Osiris atmosphere

  Brid got up the next morning filled with enthusiasm. She had high hopes for this little venture of hers, and couldn’t wait to get caught up on what had been done while she performed her daily duties. She ate breakfast slowly, forcing herself to spend a bit of extra time, time the metallurgist, Vidie Fos, might need to get anywhere on the makeup of the Copperheads’ casing. She forced herself to check in on the bridge and finish her first coffee before getting in the lift and going down to the lab.

  Warships like the Takarabune didn’t normally have need for metallurgists or their labs, so when Brid had learned what was required, she brought the ship to Osiris to ask for their best metallurgist and whatever equipment would be needed for his or her lab. The crew had cleared out some space in a couple of rooms that had previously served mainly as storage, and the Osirians had sent Vidie Fos, along with an abundance of equipment the Takarabune really didn’t have room for.

  They made do, however. They always made do.

  Brid came to the lab entrance, where a small set of radiation suits hung. She took one down and put it on over her uniform, but needed help getting the head gear on; it attached all the way around, and she couldn’t be sure it was secure in back. So she rapped on the hatch’s window, and when Vidie looked up, she indicated her suit.

  Vidie told an assistant to go out and help Brid. The assistant made short, efficient work of it, smiled brightly up at Brid, and escorted her into the lab.

  The lab, such as it was, was already on the small side, space being of a premium on a warship. Packed with materials, equipment, and the odd assistant or two dressed in bulky radiation-proof suits, the place felt downright claustrophobic. Tubes, beakers, flasks, cylinders, a test tube holder, forceps, tongs, eye droppers, clamps, and things she had no names for—it was all metal and glass except for the collection of litmus paper. Things gleamed. Liquids both colored and clear sat in glass tubes or were poured from one flask to another, mixing, sometimes changing color, sometimes creating smoke. Brid was glad for the head gear and the self-contained breathing apparatus so she didn’t have to smell the chemicals. She’d always hated that about chemistry in school.

  Vidie Fos stood apart from the rest, having carved out his own workspace, which Brid saw he defended ruthlessly, glaring viciously at anyone who dared approach. He bent over a microscope, studying what Brid presumed to be a tiny sample of one of the Copperheads’ hulls.

  “Good morning,” Brid said. Vidie slanted an eye in her direction and gave a slight nod in reply. In their first meeting, Brid had surmised that Vidie spoke as little as possible, and that he preferred his test tubes to human company. He stood a good three inches shorter than Brid, had pale skin and short, stubby fingers. He kept his dark hair cut close to his scalp, and she could see his brilliant green eyes, focused on the task at hand. He had a plump build, and overall reminded her of a chemistry teacher she’d had in high school.

  “I’m here to get a better understanding of what you’re doing and where we stand with regards to making some Copperhead mock-ups,” Brid said.

  “I’m trying to understand the molecular nature of Element X,” Vidie said.

  “What is ‘Element X’?”

  “The unknown element.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to start at the beginning,” Brid said, when no further explanation seemed forthcoming.

  Vidie stopped what he was doing and faced her, though his eyes skipped hers and went instead to her breasts. Although she lacked Nuria’s ample cleavage—and, in fact, she had rather small breasts—Brid nonetheless had some experience in this kind of thing, but since she had risen to captain, she had dealt far less often with being objectified. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Vidie’s response.

  “Whatever is covering the Copperheads’ hulls is an alloy,” Vidie said, and although he still didn’t meet her gaze, he at least looked elsewhere. “In other words, metals mixed with other metals or elements. In this case, the coating is composed of the malleable metals iron, tin, and lithium; and Element X.” He moved aside for Brid to take a look in his microscope.

  Which she did, but it didn’t help her any, as she couldn’t tell what it was she was supposed to be seeing.

  “I’ve dyed Element X blue,” Vidie said. “See how it attaches to the metals? I’ve removed it and tried adding it to other metals. It’s attracted to them, like a magnet. It bonds with them.”

  “What exactly is Element X?” Brid asked. “A chemical? Another metal?”

  “A chemical. Look here.” He moved to a computer and clicked on an animation. “When I irradiated it, the radiation waves bounced right off it, like this. I tried irradiating part of one of the Copperhead’s casings, and ninety-eight percent of the radiation was reflected off the metal.”

  “That’s fantastic! Can you reproduce Element X?”

  “I’m working on it. It will take some doing, but we’re making progress.”

  “That’s excellent news. Good work, Dr. Fos.”

  “Is that all you needed?”

  “Yes. You can go back to work now. Thank you.”

  He turned to his microscope, not so much as acknowledging her thanks: a dismissal. He was a civilian, so Brid let it slide and beckoned for the assistant who had helped her before. She would need a hand getting out of this hot suit.

  * * *

  That afternoon, Brid found herself in a radiation protection suit once more, only this time she went to the second lab they had made, this one for Grim and his team to work on creating a prototype of the orb th
at controlled the wormhole. Brid had found it prudent to split the efforts of Grim and Nuria; Nuria and her team stayed in the docking bay, figuring out how to make fake Copperheads.

  Brid found Grim hard at work in his lab, going over notes on his computer. He got up when she approached. “I assume you’re here for an update.”

  “You assume correctly.”

  “I’m afraid I have no good news to report. We’re getting nowhere with the prototype, mainly because we haven’t yet managed to turn the orb on. It was broken in the crash, you see.”

  That was bad news. “But it was glowing when the 15th Squadron found it.” She glanced over his shoulder at the orb, sitting securely in its stand while a pair of mechanics fiddled with it. “It’s glowing now.”

  “Yes, but the glow doesn’t indicate full working capacity. There’s a severely damaged part, a very delicate part, which we haven’t been able to fix.” He sighed. “We’ve tried everything. We even tried creating a new part with a 3-D printer, but that didn’t work, either.”

  “I was hoping to get the fake Copperheads up and running within the next few days,” she said, and couldn’t quite keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I want to send them out on a fact-finding mission while we can, before the aliens decide to invade our space once more.”

  “Agreed. But—”

  “Ha!”

  They both started at the sudden cry. One of the mechanics jumped up and down, and another was clapping enthusiastically.

  “We did it, Mr. Moore! We fixed the orb!” The mechanic, a young man called Ahlgren, pointed wildly to the orb. Brid and Grim rushed over, took a look.

  From this angle, they could see that the mechanics had opened up the orb to examine its inner workings, and they could also see where one of the parts had been replaced by a copper facsimile.

  Grim leaned close. “Copper?”

  “It was a hunch,” Ahlgren said, grinning like a madman. “Kaipo Horvat said he tried something similar once with a radio. So we tried it. We don’t know why copper works when other materials don’t, but it does.”

  “Remind me to thank Kaipo.”

  “So can you duplicate the orb?” Brid asked.

  “Yes,” Grim said, “but that will take time. More time than you want to spend, I think.”

  “I see.” She thought about it and came to a decision. “Keep at it. And make sure we have at least one working model.”

  One would have to do. She’d have Nuria make four Copperheads, and the leader would open the wormhole for them all. She only hoped Nuria and her team could get four fighters working in time, before the aliens struck again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Just inside the Osiris atmosphere

  Brid sipped a decaffeinated coffee, wishing for caffeine but determined to stick to the four cups of regular that Carey allotted her each day. The ship’s coffee was tasty regardless of the amount of caffeine it did or didn’t contain, so at least she got her flavor fix, but she missed the kick of the caffeine.

  She worked in her office, one knee crossed over the other, her forearms on the desk as she examined the notes on her Palm. She had a desktop computer as well, but she hadn’t downloaded her notes to it yet, and besides, she liked working with the Palm; something about her concise notes and the hand-held device just seemed to go together.

  She took another swallow of coffee, careful to replace her mug on the coaster she kept on her spotless desk. She recalled only a fraction of the chemistry she’d learned at the academy, and she was wondering what kind of education it required to discern the molecular nature of an element when the intership comm announced a call. “Yes.”

  “It’s Nuria Gomes, Captain. We have four Copperheads ready for testing.”

  “I’ll be right there.” She hastened to the docking bay, leaving her coffee behind, eager to have a good look at the completed replicas.

  When she reached the docking bay, she found Nuria, Grim, Kaipo, and a couple of other mechanics putting the finishing touches on the fake Copperheads—which Brid couldn’t tell from the real ones, aside from the fact that the replicas were, of course, in much better condition than those that had been shot down. Brid ran a hand over the surface of one of the replicas and discovered an almost slick surface, except . . . “You even banged them up a bit,” she said.

  Nuria nodded. “I thought they should look as realistic as possible.”

  “Good call.” The fake Copperheads would pass even a fairly close inspection—although the pilots shouldn’t have to get that close to the enemy on this mission. “How did you handle the controls?”

  “The replicas are basically hybrids.” Nuria rested her hands on her hips and watched as Brid climbed up to one of the cockpits to have a peek. “As you can see, the outer hulls look like normal Copperheads, and they deflect radiation like the Copperheads. But the controls have been stripped from old Banshees and refurbished, so the pilots won’t have any trouble flying them. The only difference in the controls is the addition of the orb in the one you’re looking at. The lead pilot can activate the orb as soon as he’s far enough away from any ships or heavenly bodies, and the rest of the team will just follow him in.”

  Brid nodded. Inside the cockpit, the alien orb glowed softly within its protective casement. “How was Kaipo? He didn’t get in the way, did he?”

  Nuria changed her stance. “I have to say, he was pretty helpful, Captain.”

  It was indicative of genuine admiration on Nuria’s part to admit that. Ordinarily, she tried to outdo any mechanic within range. Brid glanced down at her, surprised, and caught the head mechanic blushing—it seemed she was starting to develop feelings for Kaipo. Brid wondered idly if he felt the same. “I’m glad,” Brid said. “Maybe I’ll loan him out to you again sometime.”

  She climbed down off the Copperhead, thoroughly pleased with the work that had been done.

  The aliens were about to get a nasty surprise.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Outside the Freyr Asteroid Belt

  Colonel Samson Lange stood at the fore of the Ready Room, fixing each of the pilots there with his cool blue gaze. Lange, silver-haired and clean-shaven, kept fitter than some of the pilots, his body trim and taut beneath his uniform. Everyone looked up to him because he had a compelling presence. Guys wanted to be him, and girls wanted to date him.

  Some of the guys wanted to date him, too. Garner saw Temple eyeing the colonel more than once, and he’d spotted Lieutenant Kamar of the 16th walking backwards down the corridor to get a better look at the colonel’s ass. Not that anyone would dare tell the colonel to his face that they thought him hot. Colonel Lange was a first-rate officer and abided strictly by the rules, which meant no dating among the officers.

  Not to mention the fact that he was as intimidating as hell.

  “As you may know from the scuttlebutt,” Lange said, “we have managed to duplicate four Copperheads. These ships have Banshee components and controls, so they’ll be flown exactly the same way as you’re all used to.

  “The purpose of these mock-ups is to create fighter ships that will both be able to go through the wormhole without damage to the ship or its pilot, and to be able to pass for alien craft once the mock-ups enter Snapper space. In this way, we’ll be able to go on a more in-depth fact-finding mission once we have the information we need.”

  An raised his hand. “Sir, this won’t be a fact-finding mission?”

  “It will, but we won’t be finding out about the aliens this go-around. This time we’ll be focusing on the wormhole itself.

  “Bai, Vasilescu, Crewe, and Hext, you’ll be flying the mock-ups. The rest of you” —here he indicated the remaining four pilots— “will follow at a discreet distance in case anything unexpected jumps out of that wormhole. You’ll all take extensive scans of the wormhole and the surrounding space. Those in the mock-ups, Team A, will take readings of their own ships as well as scans of the wormhole. Vasilescu will be team leader; he’ll have the orb prototype i
n his ship, and he’ll open and close the wormhole.

  “Now, listen up, and listen good: If the wormhole opens, you are not to go inside. You will observe only. We need to find out what we’re facing before we go headlong into enemy territory. This is a test run for the orb prototype. Don’t try to be heroes.”

  “What if something comes out of the wormhole?” asked Temple.

  “Kill it.” Lange turned on a 3-D holographic grid of the area of space in which the Takarabune currently cruised, then opened up the holograph to include a section some distance away from the Freyr Asteroid Belt. He pointed to a spot that had been marked A. “When you reach this point, Vasilescu will activate the orb by touch. The orb has been coated in the same casing as the mock-ups, so there’s no danger of irradiation.

  “Once the orb is activated, it will take a few seconds for it to power up. When it does, a green light will appear next to it. That’s when Vasilescu will input the code for the wormhole to open.” Lange indicated a code written on the blackboard behind him. “Once you’ve gathered enough data, you’ll enter this code” —here he gestured to another code below the first— “which will close the wormhole. In theory.”

  In theory. Garner memorized the codes and thought about what—and who—might lie on the other side of the wormhole.

  Lange dismissed them. The pilots made their way to the docking bay, where Garner, Fault, An, and Jaden found their mock-up Copperheads and had their first look at the beasts. The mock-ups looked exactly like their namesakes in every way, from the darker-than-black, glassy smooth outer hulls to the round lights at the fore of each craft, like a pair of wide, unblinking eyes. Only the insides of the Copperheads looked friendly, and this they could all see because the ships’ canopies had been opened ahead of time so the pilots could hop right in.