by G J Ogden
Taylor, Sonner and Casey had spent the time working on more operational matters. Sonner had commandeered one of the corner offices in the medical center and all of them were standing around a clinically pristine, white circular table, looking over the crew and supplies manifests. Casey had been working out how best to load each transport ship with the optimal combination of both personnel and key supplies from the base – mainly fuel, ammunition and, at Sonner’s behest, coffee – while remaining within the maximum mass limit. Overload the ships and they would burn through their fuel before reaching the main Contingency base, which was something that everyone had agreed would be a bad thing. Taylor and Sonner, meanwhile, were going through the crew manifest and building five-unit crews for the Nimrods, trying to match up the different skill sets and personalities as best they could. But there was one name in particular on the crew manifest that had caught Taylor’s attention. He was sure that Sonner must have spotted it too, and was curious as to why she’d not brought it up, but it was a potential problem and it needed discussing. He was about to raise it with Sonner when Casey spoke first.
“Hey, Commander S, I think we might have a serious problem,” said Casey, twirling a stylus between her fingers like a drummer showboating at a rock concert. “We can’t fit everything we need onto the two transports and the Contingency One and keep within our mass limit.”
Sonner glanced up from the data pad on the table and raised an eyebrow, “Really? I thought we’d got the numbers spot on. What’s tipping the scales?”
“It’s the coffee, I’m afraid,” said Casey. She was keeping a straight face, but nothing about the joyful timbre of her voice suggested she was serious, “I’m afraid we’re just going to have to leave it here...”
Sonner’s eyes flicked across to Taylor, who was clearly struggling not to smile; twisting his face into a grimace as if he was struggling to contain a really bad case of flatulence. Sonner’s expression, however, did not waver, and when she spoke she sounded as grave as if she was delivering a prison sentence.
“Not a problem, Casey,” said Sonner, looking back at the personnel records on the data pad. “We have plenty of pilots now, so just transfer an amount of coffee equivalent to your mass onto the Contingency One, and you can remain on this base.” There was a dramatic pause for effect, before she added, “We’ll come back for you once the war is over. Maybe…”
A tiny laugh that was half grunt half squeak escaped Taylor’s synthetic lips. This was partly as a result of Sonner’s deliciously deadpan repost to Casey, but also because he was reminded of Sonner’s earlier theatrical performances during their adventures on the Way Station, before their current mission. Sonner had certainly honed her acting skills since then.
Casey stopped twirling the stylus and frowned, “Aww, Commander S, that hurts,” she said, genuinely affronted.
“Pilot, there are only two things in this universe I care about,” said Sonner, “Winning this war, and coffee. Not necessarily in that order...”
There was another brief silence and then all three of them burst out laughing. It was a rare moment of pure joy when all of their worries vanished, if only for a few seconds. Humor was a great leveler, Taylor realized in that instant. Laughter shared amongst friends was one of the most genuine of all human experiences.
“Well, I guess I’ll just go and measure out the correct quantity of coffee,” said Casey, sashaying towards the door of the office, “I’ll see you guys in another three hundred years then...”
Taylor raised a hand and waved, “Take care, Casey, catch you on the next one,” before Casey swept out of the office and swung left towards the docking section.
“She’s really something,” said Sonner once Casey had vanished from view. “It was the right call to rescue her, and not just because she’s an ace pilot.”
Taylor glanced at Sonner and smiled. “Yes, she is. And thanks for saying so.”
“It’s a shame we don’t have another ninety-nine pilots just like her,” Sonner went on, slipping back into her more Commanderly persona. “Some of the crew on this base had only just completed the academy crash course at the time they were rushed away from Earth and frozen.”
“They’ll step up,” said Taylor confidently.
Sonner frowned at him, “How can you be so sure?”
“Because they’ll have to,” said Taylor, and then his eyes fell on the name he’d seen earlier, before Casey’s humorous interjection. “Besides, I don’t think rookie crews are our biggest problem. Have you seen one of the names on this list?”
Taylor noticed that Sonner’s jaw seemed to clench as he mentioned the list. “What name?” she asked, cagily.
Taylor pointed a finger at the name on the data pad and added, “What are we going to do about him?”
Sonner looked at the entry above the tip of Taylor’s finger and read the name, “Colonel Chester Collins, Officer Commanding Earth Fleet Reserve Contingency Base (EFRCB).” When she looked up at Taylor, she looked oddly relieved. “Oh, him. What about him?”
Taylor was genuinely surprised at the reaction, partly because it seemed to indicate she had expected Taylor to highlight a different name, but also because she seemed unconcerned about the arrival of an officer with more seniority than she had.
“‘Oh, him’?” Taylor repeated. “Who were you thinking I meant?”
“Never mind that,” Sonner hit back, folding her arms, “what’s your point about Collins?”
“Seriously, you don’t see this as a potential problem?” Taylor asked, not even trying to hide his dismay at how casually Sonner had brushed it off. “He’s a Colonel, he outranks you!”
“Plenty of people in Earth Fleet outranked me, Captain,” said Sonner. She knew what Taylor was eluding to, but the fact he hadn’t just come out and said it annoyed her, and made her want to be even more difficult than usual.
“Yes, but all of them are dead,” replied Taylor, sticking to his guns. He wasn’t letting Sonner just casually brush this under the rug. Then he tapped his finger on the name again. “This guy is not.”
“Look, Taylor, I’m just a cranky, forty-something Earth Fleet engineer. I fix things and I box the ears of other engineers to make sure they fix things. I was never supposed to be the one leading this crazy war.”
“Yet here you are, doing just that,” Taylor replied, and then with sincerity added, “and not only that, but you’re doing it well.” This caused Sonner’s eyes to soften a little. “You can’t be willing to just give up command to whoever this guy is?”
Taylor had finally got to the point, and now Sonner opened up too. “Of course I don’t want to hand over the Contingency to Collins, but it doesn’t matter what I want. He’s a Colonel and I’m a Commander and that’s all there is to it.”
Taylor shook his head, “No way, I don’t accept that. We haven’t got this far playing by the rules. You should have killed me when you first encountered me, but you didn’t. You broke the rules then and we’ve been making the rule book up ever since. That’s the only reason any of these people are alive.” Then he leaned in a fraction closer to her, locking his silver eyes onto hers. “You’re the only reason any of these people are alive.”
Sonner sighed and then rested her palms on the table, bring their heads closer together, “Most of that is true, Captain.” Then she met his eyes. “But you know damn well we’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, too. And Casey. We’ve done this together.”
“And we need to see it through, together,” replied Taylor with a firmness and gravitas she’d rarely heard from him. He held his finger on the name and the service record of Colonel Chester Collins filled the screen of the data pad. Taylor scanned the entry, assimilating the information far more quickly than Sonner’s human eyes could. “This guy is a bureaucrat. A manager. He was put here to ensure the base ran smoothly, not to command forces into battle.”
“We don’t know what’s he’s like,” said Sonner, tiring of the conversation. There were more pressing
matters to deal with. “He could be just what we need to plan our attack.” Taylor looked at her like she was crazy, which only made Sonner more irritated, “Look, Captain, let’s just worry about getting everyone back to the Contingency base first. This Colonel Collins has only just thawed out and will barely be able to string a coherent sentence together for at least another day. So let’s park this conversation for another time, okay?”
Taylor sighed and then massaged his non-existent stubble, “Okay. For now.”
Sonner nodded. “Good. Besides, he could be a great guy. A great leader.”
“And what if he’s not?” wondered Taylor, folding his arms. He was still smarting from the exchange and was like a dog with a bone.
Sonner continued to peer into Taylor’s silver eyes, which held her attention like a magnet. He wasn’t just shooting the breeze; she could tell that this was something that troubled him deeply and, if she was honest, it was troubling her too. She didn’t know this Colonel, and whether he was a capable officer or not, she didn’t want to give up command to him, or anyone else. She had been frank with Taylor earlier when she’d described herself as just a ‘cranky, forty-something Earth Fleet engineer.’ She would have been the first to admit that she should be the last to lead the Contingency War, but fate hadn’t given her a chance to say no. And now she had come too far not to see it through to the end. “If he’s a grade-A asshole then we cross that airlock when we come to it, okay?”
Taylor nodded and was about to reply when James burst through the door, red faced and out of breath.
“What the hell, Lieutenant, haven’t you heard of knocking?” snapped Sonner.
“Sorry Commander, but we’ve detected another ship entering the system,” panted James, almost collapsing onto the table and spitting the words out so quickly they practically merged into one.
Sonner and Taylor glanced at each other and then darted for the door. “Get back to the Contingency One,” Taylor called out to James, “We hooked its scanners up to the hidden antenna on the surface. It will be quicker than trying to access and figure out the systems on the base.”
James nodded and together then ran along the corridor, past the disheveled forms of Earth Fleet crew that had recently been brought out of stasis, whose eyes followed them fearfully, and in through the lowered rear cargo ramp of the Corvette. Taylor made it to the bridge first by virtue of his untiring simulant body and rushed to the mission operations console.
Casey was at her station with her purple canvas shoes up on the pilot’s console, and Taylor’s sudden charge through the door almost made her fall off the chair. “Captain, what’s going on?”
“There’s another ship coming in,” said Taylor, quickly accessing the surface antenna and pulling in the sensor data. Casey jolted out of the chair and ran to his side, and soon the scan data flowed onto the console screen. Taylor was able to assimilate it all before the two Sonners finally arrived.
“What is it, Captain?” asked Sarah Sonner, holding her sides. “Is it the frigate?”
“No,” replied Taylor, double-checking the data to be sure, “it’s another Corvette-class cruiser, like this one, and it’s heading towards the breaking yard.”
Sonner relaxed back against the wall and let out an audible sigh of relief. “Damn it, James, you made me run all this way for nothing. And you know how much I hate running.”
Then Taylor realized something, and he spun the chair around to face Commander Sonner, “It’s a Hunter Corvette!” he exclaimed, suddenly excited, “They’re probably decommissioning it, which means the Hunter simulants are probably still on board.”
Sonner pushed away from the wall, “Oh, no, no, no,” she said, wagging a finger at him, “I know what you’re thinking, and you can get that idea out of your lab-grown brain, right now!”
“Don’t forget our deal, Commander,” Taylor hit back. “If there’s a chance of rescuing one of the others, you owe it to me to try, just like on the Way Station.”
“This is hardly a similar situation, Captain!” argued Sonner. “Have you forgotten that there’s a sensor perimeter surrounding that breaking yard? And have you also forgotten about the lethal plasma turrets that would turn the Contingency One to smoldering ashes if we got hit?”
“We won’t get hit,” said Taylor, but then Casey joined in, fearful that Taylor was relying on her piloting skills a little too much.
“Cap, I know you have faith in me, but I have to agree with Commander S,” said Casey, hesitantly, but with no less sparkle to her voice. “I can’t dodge volleys from that number of turrets for long.”
“We won’t get hit,” Taylor said again, “because I’ll do my ‘party trick’, as Sonner calls it, and shut the perimeter down. Including those turrets.” Taylor’s comment had the desired effect of stopping Sonner from adding to her string of objections, giving him an opening to finish detailing his proposal. “We launch the transports and send them out hot, making it easy for the breaker’s yard to spot them burning hard away from the planet,” Taylor went on, growing in confidence. “They will scramble whatever ships they have to intercept, but the transports will be spooled up and ready with pre-calculated jump co-ordinates transferred from the Contingency One. We already calculated the reciprocal course in case we had to jump away quickly, remember?” He paused for a moment to check if Sonner was ready to object again.
The Commander seemed to be chewing the inside of her mouth, but then sniffed loudly and said, with some reluctance, “Go on, Captain.”
“The transports then both jump away before the scrambled ships can get within weapons range. Once they’re gone, I pop the circuits in the breakers yard, taking down the sensor perimeter and turrets. We go in hard and fast with the Contingency One, grab the prize, and be gone before they realize what hit them.”
There was a pregnant pause, and then suddenly Casey start to applaud. “That’s a great plan, Cap,” she said brightly, “and it might even work!”
“I can make sure the transports have the jump calculations programmed in,” said James, adding to the chorus of support, “and the new transceivers are already installed and working, so they’ll have no problem jumping the threads undetected.”
“It’ll work,” said Taylor, resolutely looking Sonner dead in the eyes.
Commander Sonner blew out her cheeks and shook her head, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s a solid plan. Hell, let’s give it a shot.”
Casey and James looked at each other and smiled, as if they were kids whose mom had just said they could go to the mall, but Taylor remained serious and somber. “Thank you, Commander. I mean it.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Captain,” Sonner answered, “because if you get me killed, I’m having you and Casey turned into coffee machines.”
FOURTEEN
Provost Adra stared out through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the cube-shaped office that presided over the center of the reclamation facility, patiently observing a swarm of repair drones buzzing around her stricken War Frigate. The ship had been recovered to the safety and protection of reclamation facility Cygnus G7-530 by the Warden of the operation; a fidgety male bureaucrat called Holx. He had dispatched tugs and a repair ship the instant Adra’s ailing frigate had been detected, and the massive ship was now attached to the dock in the first quadrant. Each quadrant of the facility was able to process a ship from start to finish, and was typically occupied by vessels that were awaiting dissection, rather than repair. The mighty War Frigate was therefore a highly unusual sight. The dock was also where any remaining crew as well as valuable internal equipment was offloaded, before the ship made its way through the stages of surgical processing to cut away anything of value.
Like the remote Way Stations, which were sanctuaries for the those who didn’t want to be found and those without great ambition, the reclamation facility was another posting for those who preferred to keep a healthy distance from the core systems of the empire. Nevertheless, Holx had impressed – or a
t least not yet offended – Provost Adra through his quick and intelligent response to her arrival, and had so far acted respectfully and appropriately towards her. In short, this meant he had wisely not asked her any probing questions. And he had also made himself scarce by offering Adra the use of his office, perched high above the labyrinth of conduits and interlinked sections that made up the facility’s four operational quadrants. The elevation, and the transparent walls, meant that the Warden could more easily monitor everything that went on below. And it was also an efficient, if slightly oppressive, way to motivate the workers, who knew they were being watched at all times.
Adjutant Lux remained by Provost Adra’s side, choosing to stand despite Adra having given him permission to sit down. The simulant on the frigate had succeeded in keeping him alive for long enough to reach the installation’s medical facility, but it had quickly become obvious that Lux’s injuries were more than skin deep. The medical staff had treated him as best they could, but they had neither the equipment nor the medical expertise to attend to him fully. Adra had also not escaped the debilitating consequences of the double jump unscathed, but her levels of resilience were ranked amongst the highest of any Hedalt officer in the entire empire, and as such she had already regained much of her strength. This had in part been helped by the fact that Adra found Holx’s office to be an oasis of calm compared to the constant rumble of white noise that assaulted her senses on the frigate. Combined with the near-hypnotic sight of hundreds of automated repair drones performing an intricate and synchronized ballet of maneuvers outside, Adra had felt as close to being at peace as she could remember for a long time.
“Provost Adra, there is another ship docking,” said Lux with surprise.
Adra turned her head to where Lux had been, but she had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized her Adjutant had moved over to the other side of the office. He was propped up against the transparent wall, peering down at the reclamation dock in quadrant four.