by M. D. Cooper
“Yes, mother.” Katelyn couldn’t help but grin at Wren’s tone of voice.
She’d be sure to keep her eyes open for that tech in the future; she could imagine all sorts of uses for it.
Clarke motioned her over to the small, portable launch pad, where a five-meter shuttle awaited. To her surprise, Wren boarded first, taking the pilot’s cradle. Katelyn hopped aboard at Clarke’s gesture, then the soldier shouldered a pack filled with equipment, and sealed the hatch behind them.
They passed a few quiet hours crossing the Teka continent, and then flew out over the Prelandra Sea. Shortly thereafter, the craft slowed and came to a hover three meters above the water. Gertrude was dancing in and out of gathering clouds and Katelyn could see a line of thunderheads building on the horizon. She heard the patter of raindrops as Clarke triggered the hatch open.
A glance at the shuttle’s main holo showed they were four hundred kilometers from the Teka Coast Guard’s base of operations outside Tarja, at the mouth of the river where the Damascus met the Prelandra Sea.
“Teka Coast Guard’s spaceport’s up that river a few hundred klicks,” Clarke told Katelyn as he handed her a rebreather.
She cocked her head. “Seriously? A Coast Guard station, that far inland?”
Wren snickered. “Crazy Venusians. Don’t ask.”
Katelyn shook her head as Clarke sealed his suit and gave her a thumbs-up.
Katelyn nodded at him, rebreather firmly in her mouth, and then followed the soldier out the hatch.
Her suit’s sensors showed the contours of their underwater environment, the darkness of their surroundings absolute.
Clarke’s avatar held up his hand, and she stopped a meter above him.
She gave the more experienced man a thumbs-up and pushed off from the sandy floor. She felt her body moving forward as she was towed alongside him.
Soon, she was arrowing through brackish water beside the bulky male, her suit projecting a three-sixty image of her surroundings, the suit’s full EM spectrum scan allowing a view that no naked eye could achieve with this visibility, even during full daylight.
Stars, shoulda done this ages ago, she thought as she marveled at the river ecoystem around her.
All too soon, Clarke was slowing their approach, until they hovered beside one of the Coast Guard cutters, moored toward the end of one of the spaceport’s two piers.
She sent her assent, her body rising and falling gently with each breath she took, as the air in her lungs altered her body’s buoyancy. Her feet trailed behind her, the water streaming past at a rate that made it nearly impossible to orient herself upright. Five minutes later, Clarke pinged her.
He noted a location, and a pin appeared on her HUD, highlighting a ladder built into the pier. She swam toward it and began to climb. She paused when she spied Clarke as her head cleared the water, a shadowed figure being pelted by sheets of rain, crouching at the top of the ladder.
He touched his finger to his lips as a warning. She nodded, and resumed her climb.
The spaceport should be starting its second shift about now, but given the weather, she hoped very few would be moving about. She glanced about as she reached the top rung. Things appeared relatively quiet, the Marines who’d attacked their ship having arrived hours earlier. Everyone was settled in for the afternoon—and that was just fine by her.
Clarke hooked a hand under her arm as she levered herself onto the pier. The plascrete surface under her palms was rough and slightly slippery from the rain, but held a pleasant, residual warmth from Gertrude’s rays. She sat a moment, getting her bearings as Clarke fiddled with something inside one of the packs he carried.
A small airfield spanned the distance between the two piers. At the end nearest them was a hangar, with three surface shuttles parked outside. That would likely be where the woman she was impersonating worked.
Katelyn’s gaze swept beyond it. She could see the outlines of other structures further inland, sparse lighting casting them in a half-gloom. She figured the large one in the center must be the Coast Guard’s administrative offices, the place Jakobsen had assured them was the most likely spot where they’d find the node.
Clarke cut her off, squeezing her shoulder in warning as he pointed to the side of the hangar. There, two figures sat eating a meal, the building’s overhang sheltering them from the elements. As she watched, one of them stood, gathered his plate, and walked toward a recycling station.
As he stepped into the cone of light illuminating the station, Katelyn smothered a mental curse. It was the same Marine who’d gotten the drop on her back at the fuel depot. She must have tensed; Clarke’s grip on her shoulder tightened, and she could feel his gaze drawn to hers in question.
She sent her assent, sinking into a more comfortable position to wait out the lone diner. It didn’t take long; five minutes later, the woman stood, disposed of her plate, and sauntered back toward one of the smaller buildings.
Clarke gave a mental grunt.
Katelyn stood and followed as Clarke began to walk toward the airfield.
HEY, MICKEY
STELLAR DATE: 3227475 / 06.05.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Venus Coast Guard Sector Teka, outskirts of Tarja
REGION: Venus, InnerSol, Sol Space Federation
Williams’ gaze swept the crowded room that served as 8th Battalion’s current HQ—co-opted from the Coasties due to the command shack living up to the name. Officers and service noncoms stood in clusters around various holodisplays, the hum of equipment and the sound of conversation filling the air. He turned as he heard his name, his eyes settling onto the commander before shifting to the two strangers standing beside her.
“Williams!” Commander Lauren called again, her voice rising over the chatter of the busy room as she waved him over. He nodded, altering his path to intersect with her location.
As he approached, he studied the newcomers. Although they were wearing fatigues that bore the insignia of the 242nd, he could tell they weren’t Marines. Something about them screamed military intelligence.
His eyes narrowed in speculation. He could think of just one reason why two Mickies would show up at battalion headquarters.
The CO confirmed his suspicions.
“That node you recovered is some new hot-shit tech IntelliCore was developing for the TSF. The thing mysteriously walked off two weeks ago, and our guests are here to ensure it hasn’t been compromised.”
She turned to the newcomers. “Gunnery Sergeant Williams is the Marine who secured the node. He can answer any questions you might have about the incident at the fuel depot.”
She shot him a glance that made the statement an order. “Gunny, this is—”
If she introduces them as Smith and J
ones, I’m gonna—
“Specialists Smith and Specialist Jones.”
Williams didn’t quite suppress the grunt that slipped out, though his face remained impassive. Lauren shot him a repressive look, then continued. “Please escort them to the room where Commander Tippin’s studying the node.”
Williams nodded curtly. “Yes, ma’am.”
He turned just as Bourne walked up.
“Ma’am,” the first sergeant said, bracing to attention before turning to the Mickies. “Colonel Ender asked me to let you both know that IntelliCore’s sending someone out on a fast boat. Should be here by tomorrow morning.”
Williams saw relief flash through Lauren’s eyes. “Good,” she said. “Damned thing’s going to give up its secrets one way or another before we get back to taking the city.”
The female agent just nodded, her eyes dipping briefly to Bourne’s nametag. “Thank you, Sergeant Bourne.”
Stepping forward, she gestured to the exit. “Sergeant Williams?” She smiled, but her eyes remained cold as she waited for him to lead the way.
“It’s ‘Gunny’, ma’am. Or just ‘Williams’ will do.”
As he headed for the door, the two agents stepped into place on either side of him. They remained silent until they cleared the room and entered the relative quiet of the corridor.
“Can you tell us the events that led to you securing this node? We need to know exactly why the Veefs—and the Diskers—want it so badly.”
The male agent’s voice was pleasant enough, but something about the way the woman silently scrutinized him gave Williams the feeling he was being interrogated. He didn’t much care for that.
He shot the man a sharp look. “We record every skirmish. Didn’t anyone give you access to the feed?”
The woman made a dismissive sound. “Of course, but we want to hear about the Diskers that got away. A holo can only tell you so much.”
“You could have seen things the recording missed and not even realize it,” Smith added.
His comment earned the man a scowl from Jones that caused Williams to swallow a smirk. He’d never known a Mickey to explain anything to anyone—ever.
Rookie. Bet he pisses his partner off to no end.
They fell silent as a squad of Marines approached, traveling in the opposite direction. As soon as the group was out of hearing range, the woman started up again.
“Venus STC says the ship was transmitting the ident of a Jovian merchant, but its profile matches that of a smuggler I’ve been tracking.” She shot Williams a sharp look. “I almost had her on Cruithne a few weeks ago. Anything you might have seen or overheard, no matter how trivial, could help us find her and shut her down.”
The agent’s words caused Williams’ lips to compress into a thin line.
Something about the Mickies gnawed at Williams. His gut told him the agent’s idea of shutting someone down might include making them very dead.
Unbidden came the memory of Katelyn’s face as she stared at him from the airlock of her ship. Her expression was that same mix of anger and fear he’d seen in many a raw recruit.
Katelyn was in over her head; he knew it.
How’n the hell am I supposed to keep Joe’s little sister alive during this shit-show, and what the fuck does MICI want with her?
* * * * *
Katelyn and Clarke had to duck into the shadows until another group of Marines jogged past, boots slapping wetly on the soggy pavement, before they made it into the hangar. Clarke led as they slipped into the shadows of its southern exterior.
She nearly bumped into Clarke as he pulled back abruptly from where he’d been peering around the side of the building.
Turning, Clarke signaled her to follow until he came to a stop beside a door in the east wall.
She stood behind him, glancing over her shoulder as he stepped up to the door and deployed the nano. She heard him grunt, and then he was moving inside.
Katelyn followed, her suit’s sensors revealing the familiar cavernous emptiness of a large freespan building. Her suit registered the cloud of nano the SWSF Marine loosed ahead of them, jamming any sensors the hangar might have. She saw Clarke pause before the opening to a small machine shop, and then the nano cloud swept inside.
Katelyn followed Clarke into the machine shop in time to see him pull his hood off and run his hands through his short-cropped hair. She followed suit, relieved to be able to feel fresh air against her face once more. She grabbed a seat at the comm console as Clarke moved to the wall he’d identified as housing the node.
“We’re sure we can hack into this without being detected?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Clarke flashed her a sardonic grin as his hand came to rest against the wall. Through the Link, she could tell he’d just inserted a passel of nano through it.
The hardware hack was just the first step. Once breached, they’d use Wren’s software patch to gain access to the more secure TSF net partitioned within the base’s system.
Instead of responding to her question, Clarke asked one of his own.
“Ever wonder why there are so many AIs out in the Scattered Worlds? If there’s anyone that hates oppression more than the humans living out in the Disk, it’s an AI—any AI. They have an especially low tolerance for that kind of bullshit. Sentience Wars and all, know what I mean?”
She cocked her head, considering, and then nodded. It made sense.
“Guess we might have a leg up on the TSF in some areas, after all.”
“That’s right, Evans. Don’t forget it.”
A few minutes later, Clarke passed access over to her. His nano hackit had gained them access through the firewall used by the Coast Guard.
“All yours. I’m going to scroll through their security feeds, see if I can’t locate our package.”
She gave an absent nod as she went to work, insinuating herself into the TSF regiment’s HQ net. Once there, she kept her presence as unobtrusive as possible. The data available at this topmost, brigade-wide level could prove helpful, and she wanted to absorb everything it offered before moving on.
The risk increased the deeper she penetrated into the system, she knew. She’d have to determine if the risk of getting caught was really worth the payoff.
One of the bits of info gleaned at this level was that the Coast Guard had set up a temporary supply depot for their TSF guests. Its list of reserves was open to all Coast Guard personnel, including the lieutenant she was impersonating.
Accessing it brought up a recent requisition for parts and maintenance from one Gunnery Sergeant Williams. Her attention was snagged by the Marine token associated with it. The image that scowled back at her was a familiar one.
Well, hello there, Sergeant Asshat. Let’s see if we can’t find out where you went just now….
She knew tapping his icon from within the supply depot would likely ping him, so she set about to find a reason the depot might do so.
“Mm-hmm. How about a confirmation of equipment received today?” she murmured to herself as she flipped through the list of materiel Bravo Company had checked in upon arrival.
She sent the confirmation along with a ping for his location. Curious as to what he was doing in the main building around chow time, she located the nearest sensor feed and accessed it.
What she saw had her smirking in satisfaction.
Rising, she walked over to where Clarke was standing. His arms were folded against his chest, his back against the wall as he scrolled mentally through the station’s feeds.
She tapped him on the shoulder. “Found it.�
��
She saw his gaze sharpen as he pulled his attention away from what he was studying and focused on her.
“What do you mean?”
She sent him the pathway as she propped her shoulder against the wall next to him, a sassy grin spreading wide across her face.
“Check out Admin 22A, Classroom D.”
There was a pause as he accessed that particular feed. When he did, he gave a low whistle.
“Well I’ll be damned. How’d you find it so quickly?”
“What matters is that it looks like they’ve been unable to open it. That means Aaron’s presence is still hidden.”
Clarke flashed her a grin. “Not bad for a rookie.”
Katelyn grinned back. “Well, this rookie still has a few tricks up her sleeve.” Sauntering back to her seat, she wiggled her fingers dramatically at him before sinking them back into the holo interface. “Next up, our ride out of here.”
The SWSF soldier chuckled. “You do that. I’ll touch base with Wren, tell her the river’s too heavily guarded and we can’t exfil that way any longer. Then I’ll make sure their attention is focused elsewhere when we leave.”
She ran through the supply depot’s current inventory one more time, noting the items she could most legitimately claim as shortages. Pulling up the proper forms, she filled out an order for more of those items, then filled out a flight plan and a request to sign out a shuttle.
Taking one last, quick look at the dossier of the woman she was impersonating, she sent a comm request to the spaceport’s admin AI.
Katelyn pitched her mental tone into one of nonchalance. She had Sands’ avatar grin crookedly at the AI.
The AI’s avatar waggled her eyebrows and chuckled.