by Mark Wandrey
“Sir!” Bana barked. The old sergeant turned his CASPer and gestured with a long arm. “You heard the colonel, move it, shovel heads!”
Luckily for the squad, which was mostly cadre and the Zuul, they’d drilled loading into the Phoenix a couple of times. They managed not to trip over each other as they trundled up the big rear ramp in order and backed into the locking frames.
Sergeant Bana was last, after Corporal Plesh and Colonel Porter. He moved down the line, checking each of them to be sure the magnetic grapples had properly locked their mechs into position for launch. Ripley tried to remain calm, but realized she was panting in anticipation. They were going into space in their new CASPers!
“Loaded and locked, Colonel,” Bana said as his own venerable Mk 7 locked into place with a Clang!
“Very good,” her dad said. “Flop, we’re ready to go back here.”
“Roger that, Colonel,” the pilot, Lieutenant Dick “Flop” Prendergast, replied. “We’re refueled and taxiing.” His confident voice helped Ripley calm—she’d seen Flop in action often enough to trust the older pilot.
“You rookies hang on,” Sergeant Bana said over the squadnet.
“First kid pukes in his CASPer buys the drinks!” Corporal Plesh laughed. The only other veteran in their group, she’d come back with Porter after being injured on their last campaign. She had a cybernetic hand as a souvenir.
Everyone laughed, but Ripley dearly hoped she didn’t puke.
Most of their experienced troopers had ridden up to Paku, assigned to First Squad under Captain Tucker. The exceptions were Gibbs and Hewers. She wondered how Sonya felt about the latter. It was no secret she had some sort of feelings for the boy, but Ripley didn’t understand it. Humans were…so Human.
“Brace for takeoff,” Flop said. The ship stopped, and the pilot engaged the ascent engines. They roared to life, the brakes holding it back for a second before the vessel rocketed down the runway. In just a second they catapulted into the sky.
The pilot banked back until the Phoenix stood on her tail, and the Gs built quickly. Ripley’s lips skinned back from her teeth, and she was pushed into the side of her armor. It was one of the shortcomings of the Phoenix; the CASPers were loaded in two lines facing each other, backs to the bulkheads. It allowed more armor aboard, but forced the passengers to fight takeoff at an awkward angle.
There was little choice except to grin and bear it as their father said. Sometimes it was the fate of a merc to deal with bad situations the best they could. Her CASPer display dutifully told her the Gs peaked out at 5.9, which was just shy of horrendous. Every time she’d been to space before, they hadn’t gone over three Gs. Of course, those had been pleasure trips on commercial transports. The Phoenix provided neither.
“You five doing okay?” her father asked on a private link to Ripley and her siblings.
“Piece of piss!” Drake responded before any of the others could.
Despite the strain, Ripley laughed along with Rex, Sonya, and Shadow.
“Okay, good,” Father said. “Just a few more minutes.”
It felt like a few more years before the thrust fell off to a much more manageable two Gs. Ripley understood better than ever why the Humans received nanite treatments to toughen their skeletal systems. She was lucky, by comparison. Zuul possessed stronger muscles and bones as part of their basic biology and could withstand, by nature, what Humans needed to bolster against. Didn’t make it pleasant, though. They endured another 10 minutes of two Gs as the ship circularized its orbit and entered a rendezvous course with the Zuul ship. Then the pilot cut thrust. “Secure from boost stage,” he said. “You are now free to move about the cabin.”
All the CASPer-suited troopers chuckled. Even if they could detach from the harness holding each suit in place, there would be little room for them to move. The Phoenix was crowded, with 11 mechs aboard. The book said it could hold 15. Ripley wondered how you’d manage it, though.
They had to be approaching the Zuul merc cruiser, and she wanted to watch. “Lieutenant Prendergast, can we see the live feed on approach to the Paku?”
“Sure thing,” the pilot replied. A second later, her CASPer’s computer informed her of an incoming visual data signal. She used finger controls to project the images in front of her muzzle. The bulbous cockpit of the Mk 7 CASPer provided enough room for a small Tri-V. However, the data feed was 2D, so it merely projected on the inside of her cockpit.
As she suspected, the Zuul merc cruiser was already in view and closing quickly. Her eyes burned in on the alien ship design. Only, it’s not alien, she reminded herself. The ship was created by her race.
She’d only seen Human starships in orbit and on the ground. They tended to fit into three categories. Shuttles were aerodynamic, either like an airplane or a lifting body. Transports were round or flattened spheres. They didn’t have to be particularly aerodynamic; maximized internal space was more important. Military ships were usually cylinders, or needles for smaller ships.
The Zuul merc cruiser was a pointy cylinder, but with sharp, forward-swept wings, which reminded her of claws. Unlike human ships, it was painted. The main hull was silver, with a black and brown striped pattern that extended down the wings. A number of ports and vents showed it was also heavily armed. In a word, it looked dardy!
Silent Night’s own merc cruiser, a Human-made Enterprise-class ship named Starbright, looked like a cylinder holding three bulky modules in a ring. They’d originally been manufactured as light cruisers, and had proved under-gunned for their job. However, Enterprise-class made decent merc cruisers, especially when additional cargo space was added for dropships and ordnance. Paku didn’t follow any of the design criteria she was used to, and it clearly wasn’t designed to spin.
“How do they spin for artificial gravity?” Drake asked over the squadnet, his thoughts clearly aligned with hers.
“They don’t,” Flop replied. “GalNet says Paku is an Insho’Ze-class merc cruiser, designed for fast insertion and landing support. They can land.”
Ripley gawked. It was a bloody big ship to land. She doubted they carried enough fuel to land and take off after flying between the stars. That meant the ship would be all-in during an attack. Win or lose. No draws because they couldn’t retreat.
In a minute, their Phoenix flipped over, stern toward the Paku, and Flop warned them thrust was resuming. He burned the engines at just under three Gs for several minutes, then reduced to a fraction. They slid up under Paku in a perfect approach.
I need to hang out with Flop for some simulator time.
They floated in the silent void for a minute while their pilot discussed docking with Paku. Then a bay opened in Paku’s belly, and Flop piloted them up into it using careful bumps of the Phoenix dropship’s maneuvering thrusters. The feed cut off in the darkness of the hold as they felt the merc cruiser’s bay take ahold of the dropship, locking it in place. They were berthed.
“Now we get to see the ship,” Ripley murmured with a grin.
“Ripley’s in love,” Rex said.
Ripley cringed, not knowing her mic had been live. Her siblings never had understood her love for all things airborne. She tried not to let it bother her. The bay had pressurized, and the loading ramp opened. Time to go aboard.
* * *
“How in the hell do you do this without killing yourself?” Rex growled as he clumsily tried to pull his bulky CASPer out of the Phoenix.
“Practice,” his dad said.
“It’s impossible,” Rex complained.
“Tell that to the marines,” Sergeant Bana told him. “They fight in CASPers in zero G. It’s spectacular to behold.”
“Sounds like suicide to me,” Drake agreed.
“Tell you what,” his dad said, “once we’re in hyperspace, let’s do some zero G CASPer drills.”
“Sounds like fun!” Ripley said.
“Yeah!” Sonya agreed.
Great. My damned sisters. Rex tried to forget their enthusi
asm as he struggled with his CASPer’s ungainly arm length. He grabbed for a handhold on the outside of the Phoenix and missed completely. He tumbled out, a one-ton doll spinning out of control.
A cargo-handling robotic arm grabbed him, arresting his spin. Rex took hold of the arm and reoriented himself to the personnel door. Through a window, the Zuul operator of the arm waved at him. Rex growled inwardly, but waved back.
“Come on, Private,” Corporal Plesh called on Rex’s personal channel. “Enough screwing around.”
Rex pushed off the cargo arm and reached the personnel door on his second attempt. The rest of the squad was waiting there.
“You okay?” Drake asked on the private channel.
“Yeah, no worries,” Rex said despite his inward fuming.
The entire ship was in zero gravity, which was annoying. His dad led the squad through two companionways into the area of the ship they’d been given. He was surprised to find quite a bit of room, though First Squad was already there, securing their CASPers.
Despite the Zuul not using powered armor, the bay they’d been given was generous enough to allow the company armorers and mechanics to set up their management equipment. Since Humans often traveled on alien ships, the CASPer designers at Binnig had come up with modular systems designed to help transport the suits. Nobody wanted a ton of ceramic armor and steel crashing around inside their ship.
The traveling racks were magnetic, designed to be fitted to the metallic walls ubiquitous in a starship. Attach it to a bulkhead, then lock the CASPer into it. Simple. Rex had heard from his dad that sometimes alien ships provided few areas to do this. The Zuul ship possessed wide, unadorned walls that were perfect for securing CASPers. The mechanics were nodding to each other and chatting, a sure sign they were pleased.
“Any problems, Colonel?” Captain Tucker asked as his dad popped his canopy open.
“Nope, we’re squared away. Flop is taking care of the Phoenix. Looks like the mechanics are adapting.”
“Piece of piss,” Smithers said. He was supervising the other armorers and mechanics securing the last of First Squad’s CASPers. “We already have your squad’s racks set.”
“Fair dinkum!” Alan said, then turned to Rex and the others. “Get your suits locked away,” he ordered.
Rex was worried he wouldn’t be able to get his into one of the racks. However, a pair of mechanics were waiting and quickly helped maneuver him backward into the rack, locking the suit in place. By the time he opened his cockpit and floated out, Rex was a little less excited about the suit than he’d been back at the beginning. Gravity was a huge help.
A rap on the compartment hatch made Rex look. A Zuul he hadn’t met yet floated there, along with Teef. Their dad turned, and his body language instantly changed when he saw the new arrival.
“Am I coming at a bad time?” the new Zuul asked. Rex realized he could judge it as male from his scent. His high tail and forward-pricked ears spoke of authority and confidence.
“Not at all,” Dad said.
“You are Colonel Porter?”
“I am, and this is Captain Tucker, my XO.”
“Please to meet you. I am A’kef, Rei’shin of clan Insho’Ze.” He smiled. “I would be like you, a colonel.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rei’shin,” he said. Rex admired him for trying; the Zuul words were harder for Humans with their short mouths. He was also regretting not having learned his native language. He and his siblings needed to consider fixing that problem.
“I wanted to be sure you were settling in. We are scheduled to break orbit in three hours and set course for your system’s stargate.” He looked at the busily working mechanics. “Is that acceptable? We could alter the departure time, but it would require a higher G transit.”
“No problem at all,” Alan replied. “We’ll be ready ahead of your schedule.”
“Excellent,” A’kef said, inclining his head. He scanned the bay, gaze snagging on Rex and his brothers and sisters. He examined each of them, taking a full handful of seconds each. Then he took in the five CASPers that were obviously meant for Zuul. “I am honored you brought your…children.”
“Yes, we are glad you decided to come on the mission, too,” Teef quickly added, as if he was worried A’kef might have offended Alan.
A’kef held out a standard data chip, which Alan took. “This contains a briefing on shipboard operations. I’m sure we do a few things differently than you do on Human ships. It will help you familiarize your personnel with our operations to avoid confusion or incidents.”
“We wouldn’t want to be using the toilet when you’re accelerating,” Tucker said with a grin.
“Yes, that would be bad,” A’kef agreed. “Colonel Porter, you and your XO are welcome on Paku’s bridge at your convenience.”
“Thank you, I’ll be there well ahead of maneuvers.”
A’kef and Teef tilted their heads, flicked their tails, spun around, and were gone.
“So prim and proper,” Sonya said to her siblings quietly.
“Without a doubt,” Shadow agreed. “Did you smell A’kef?”
“Yeah,” Ripley said. “Wow.”
“He smelled like electricity,” Drake offered.
Rex nodded in agreement. A’kef was an alpha, no doubt about it. Rex found himself thinking about fighting him, then remembered they were in space, and barely grown besides. If his unfamiliarity with zero gravity wasn’t bad enough, A’kef would probably kick his ass in pure experience. He didn’t even know enough about his own culture to know if such thoughts were acceptable. Maybe this trip is a mistake.
“Enough bull,” Sergeant Bana snapped. “We only got a couple hours to get our shit squared away. I catch anyone screwing around, you’ll spend our time in hyperspace cleaning Zuul dunnys.” He grinned. “I bet that won’t be fun.”
Rex grunted and moved to help the mechanics.
* * *
Shadow had had many respectful questions for every Human leader he’d ever met. But here, aboard the Paku, populated by more Zuul than he’d ever seen in his life…he couldn’t think of a single one.
For the moment, he was content to wander. They’d been issued bunks together, his siblings and their Humans, but his nose was more than up for navigating him back toward Zuul common areas.
While he could tentatively determine how many Zuul had passed through a particular hallway, there were so many intermingled scents, overlapping notes, and what seemed like related variations, he had little confidence in his estimate. Up until a few days ago, he’d only ever remembered the scents of five Zuul, including himself, and now he realized he and his siblings had more in common than set them apart. Before, each scent had meant only Rex, Ripley, Drake, Sonya, Shadow, innately and wholly them. Now, with a multitude of other scents layering through his sinuses, he realized that not only males had thread of commonality, as did females, but he and his siblings also…shared some base level scent. It had been hard to pick out before, when it had been all he knew. Even now, it was a forming understanding, but Shadow had always been good at trusting even his partially developed instincts.
Family, then, had a scent. Uufek and Teef hadn’t had much in common, so likely weren’t of the same family. Shadow tried to sift the various faint smells in the hall, wondering if only siblings shared scent so clearly, or broader families, or even clans.
“Earth pup.” A door ahead opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered Zuul pushed his top half into the hall. “We were told to let you settle in before extending invitations, but here you are. Come in.”
Shadow continued forward automatically, responding to the strange familiarity of the brown-and-black male. “My name is Shadow.”
“Is it.” The older male tilted his head, taking Shadow in with a stare the younger Zuul could feel in his gut.
The expression and tone didn’t indicate a question, and Shadow found himself too curious to risk whatever conversation lay ahead by pushing the matter. He nearly froze, following th
e other Zuul into the room on the other side; he’d never seen anything like it.
Sparsely furnished with anything he recognized, only a few benches studded across its relatively large space, the room was full of…cubes. Some clear, some filled with various photographic or holographic scenes, some mounted on the walls at various heights, some stationed on metallic plinths that rose from the floor or the ceiling. The cubes varied in size, but it astonished him how many fit in there without the space feeling crowded. He realized, as he floated fully inside and the door closed behind him, the room itself was perhaps the size of three of the bunk rooms, not even half the size of the mess at home.
He wanted to ask questions, but still the words didn’t come. The way the older Zuul stared at him, he felt he should already know the answers. But how?
After another small hesitation, he moved toward the closest cube, a clear, empty one that—he stopped short, hands steadying himself against it, and freezing in truth.
As he stood in front of it, the air around him changed. No, that wasn’t quite right, but a smell, too strong for him not to have smelled a step before, had definitely…appeared.
“They’re scent boxes?” he asked, words leaving his mouth before he considered them.
“Something like that.” The Zuul’s expression changed not at all, but something eased in his posture.
“Some of them have pictures to go with them. Memorials?” Shadow held himself still, fighting back the leaping readiness of his body, urging him to run and smell everything.
“Some. Memories, more like. Of home. Of clan. Of those we’ve lost. Those we fight for.” The other Zuul crossed the room, lingered at another clear cube, then settled on one of the angled benches.
“How do you capture the scents?”
“How do you capture images?” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and gestured toward the other end of his bench with his muzzle. “Because Humans cannot do it, you imagine it could not be done?”