by M. D. Cooper
Harm handed the plas back to her. “Weird with a side of WTF. OK, I have to go. I need to find out who has set this in motion.”
“Uhhh…what about us?” she asked.
“Continue as you are. I’ll be in touch. And no one knows I was here.”
* * * * *
Connie had to admit that the threat of Colonel Higgs’ unbridled wrath had garnered exactly the sort of result from Master Sergeant Kieran that she’d hoped for.
Possibly even more than she’d hoped for. It was almost sickening the way he contacted her every thirty minutes to ensure that things were proceeding satisfactorily.
In the end, the crews missed Connie’s deadline of being ready in ten hours, but still made it under twelve.
“Kirby Jones, Kirby Jones!” Lieutenant Jeannie called out gleefully over the 1MC. “We have clearance to disembark. All sections confirm readiness to break moorings.”
Corporal Marion chimed in afterward, announcing that the sortie rooms, common spaces, and cabins were ship-shape and ready for hard burn.
Connie watched her consoles, glancing at the visuals of the bay—which still looked like a disaster—that showed the dock rails sliding out of the deck and connecting to the cradle.
Her systems indicated a solid connection between the rails and the cradle, and she disengaged the Kirby Jones’s docking clamps.
Pressure warning alerts sounded in the docking bay, and the exterior electrostatic field snapped into place, holding atmosphere in as the bay doors began to slide open.
The crews working to clean up the dock barely even paid the alerts any notice, as the cradle tilted and the ship slid onto the maglev rails.
A part of her was worried that Master Sergeant Kieran would do something at the last moment to ruin their departure, but when Jeannie’s count hit zero, the TSS Kirby Jones slid gracefully down the rails and out into the black.
Docking control handed the ship off to Vesta’s STC, and the ship was assigned a chemical thrust vector. Connie only half watched the thruster readouts as Jeannie boosted the ship away from Vesta’s ring.
“Shit,” Seamus sighed while rubbing his face. “I kept waiting for something to break off before we hit the rails. I can’t believe we finally got out of there. I could sleep for a week.”
Liam gave Seamus a light punch on the shoulder. “You still have to get the new dorsal beams connected to the backup trunkline. No week-long nap for you.”
“Yeah? Well, you’ve got a hot tub to set up in Hold 2,” Seamus shot back. “I want to have a nice bubbly soak. Chop-chop.”
“No one touch that shit,” Connie interrupted. “It’s not a hot tub, and I don’t want anyone in there ‘til we get the commander back aboard and she tells us what to do with it.”
“The commander?” Liam sat up straight and tilted his head as he regarded Connie. “What’s in there, Sarge?”
“None of your stars-be-damned business, Spaceman, that’s what,” she growled. Both Seamus and Liam drew back, eyes wide, and she shook her head. “Sorry, guys. I guess I’m still a bit on edge. I’m going to go do a walkthrough to make sure things are battened down. Once Jeannie lights the fusion burners—and everything is in the green—you two go grab some sack time.”
“You good to handle the shift on your own, Sarge?” Seamus asked.
“Well, I’m only giving you four hours in the sack, then it’s my turn, so make the most of it.”
Liam winked at Seamus. “With one hand she giveth while with the she other taketh away.”
Connie gave that comment what it deserved—an eyeroll—and then walked out of the engineering bay to make her final inspection.
To say that the interior of the Jones was a disaster was an understatement. Every corridor had panels pulled off and conduit hanging, webbed in only enough to keep it from pulling free under thrust.
She had to watch her step, as deck plates had been pulled up in some places, creating dangerous pitfalls. As she rounded a corner, Connie spotted a sewage line that was capped off and realized it was the one that ran to the san in her cabin.
“Well, shit…” she muttered. “Good thing I spotted that before I used the thing.”
“No pun intended?” a voice asked from behind her.
Connie spun to see a woman standing in the corridor wearing a shipsuit with a Kirby Jones logo on the chest. She was a touch on the overly-curvy side, with spiky, pink hair and glowing blue eyes.
“Who in the sweet fucking stars are you?” Connie asked, realizing that she’d left her service weapon in the engineering bay.
Then a privacy field snapped into place around them.
“Easy, Sergeant, it’s me. Harm Ellis.”
“Harm? Seriously?” Connie scowled at the pink-haired woman. “What happened to that Randy guy?”
“Randy is a dockhand. There’s no way he’d get assigned to the Jones.”
“Today is off the rails, you’ll forgive me if I’m suspicious,” Connie muttered as she folded her arms. “If you’re Harm, what did I order to drink at The Pig’s Ass when we met with Tanis?”
“How would I know?” the woman replied. “I wasn’t there. I’m passing you my tokens, that’s a lot better than playing twenty questions.”
The woman’s answer had been correct, but when her data packet hit Connie’s Link, she shunted it off into a sandboxed environment before opening it.
“Damn, Harm,” she said after looking over the information. “Girl looks…well…good-ish on you.”
Harm glanced down at herself and chuckled quietly. “Was a rush job. I didn’t have time to narrow my shoulders—that shit hurts, anyway—so I had to plump my hips to get the ratios right.” He turned slightly. “Got a bit big in the booty department—I’ll have to keep Smythe at arm’s length, he likes that sort of thing.”
“So I guess this means you’ve decided to come along for the ride?” Connie asked, a smile on her lips. “What prompted the gender change, though?”
Harm shrugged. “I flip between being a man and woman so often, I almost forget what I was born as. This cover was already established as being on Vesta; a quick transfer later, and Cassie Hawk is part of the crew of the Kirby Jones.”
“So which is it?” Connie pressed. “Were you born male or female?”
Harm placed a finger on the side of his nose. “An operative never reveals any hints of their true identity.”
“Cassie,” Connie tried out the name. “I guess it fits. I assume you need me to fudge some sort of mix-up that explains why you’re aboard and the XO doesn’t know about it?”
“Don’t worry. He’s about to find out,” Harm—Cassie said with a wink.
Smythe snorted.
Connie shot Smythe a dark look over the Link.
Connie returned her focus to Harm. “Well, Cassie Hawk. Welcome to the Kirby Jones. Now can you tell me what the hell is going on?”
Harm gestured toward one of the nearby holds with his head, and Connie followed him in, closing the door behind herself.
“Spill,” she said, folding her arms.
“OK, here’s what I know. I was busy with some L2 stuff for Enfield, and didn’t realize until late yesterday that your timetable had been ramped up. After meeting with you, I was able to confirm that someone was passing Colonel Higgs orders that seemed to be coming from Division 99.”
“ ‘Seemed’? How does one ‘seem’ to fake orders from the TSF’s top intelligence division?”
Harm—who Connie realized she needed to think of only as ‘Cassie’, or she was going to call him/her the wrong thing at the wrong time—gave a soft, almost squeaky laugh. “Well, that’s the kicker. Faking orders like that is pretty tricky, but I wasn’t able to tell where they were coming from. Let’s just say that when you think there are subversive elements in your own agency masquerading as you, you’ve got a pretty big problem on your hands.”
“Don’t you mean our hands?” Connie asked. “We’re all mixed up in this, too.”
“Yeah…and that’s puzzling, but for whatever reason, the Kirby Jones and Tanis are at the heart of whatever is going on—”
Connie started to interrupt, but Harm—Cassie—held up a hand.
“Let me finish. I had ‘Harm’ take a leave of absence and hop a liner to Venus while I switched over to Cassie. I went through some back channels to get Cassie’s orders to Higgs, but it’s entirely possible that whoever orchestrated your hasty departure from Vesta will eventually pick up on it and guess at who Cassie Hawk is—”
“Get to the part about Tanis,” Connie grunted.
Cassie pursed her lips, then nodded. “OK. I traced communications going to Tanis and realized that she got a burst from me yesterday. The message directed her to go to Ceres and begin looking for one of my assets. She boarded a ship for Ceres from Mars 1 yesterday.”
“That makes sense, it’s where we were told to meet her for refit shakedown,” Connie replied.
“Yeah, which is one hell of a weak excuse to get you all there. I would have done a lot better, if it were my op. Good thing whoever is pulling these strings is being a bit sloppy—or rushed.”
Connie shook her head as she tried to make sense of what Cassie was telling her. “This is just too weird. Why us? We’re just a patrol boat.”
A happy grin broke out on Cassie’s face. “So she didn’t tell you? Good. I bet Darla that she wouldn’t.”
“Tell me what?” Connie said, lowering her brow.
“Tanis is Division now. One of my assets.”
“Shit! Really? And she didn’t tell me? So much for being besties.” Connie only half meant what she’d said. Tanis keeping being a Mickie quiet made sense, but Connie hated being in the dark.
“Yeah, and now so are you, Connie. No one else on the crew can know about any of this.”
“Oh boy,” her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m a spy. Yay.”
“Don’t get too excited. You’re more like the backup quartermaster for the spies.”
Connie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the designation. “So what’s our play, oh great mastermind?”
“Don’t forget,” Cassie’s voice squeaked with indignance. “I’m a colonel and I’m giving you orders here.”
“I won’t forget,” Connie gave Cassie a measuring look. “But from the way I see it, you need me more than I need you.”
“Yeah, well, Tanis needs us both more. We need to get to Ceres, meet up with her, and find out why they sent her there.”
Connie’s eyes widened. “You think someone is going to use her to do something bad?”
“Yeah,” Cassie nodded. “Something that seems to require a starship with upgraded weapons and a fiercely loyal crew.”
“Shit,” Connie whispered. “Tanis and Darla are smart, though. They’re not going to fall for anything illegal.”
Cassie nodded, but her eyes held a measure of doubt. “There are a lot of ways to make people do things, Connie. Tanis isn’t immune to coercion. I’ll admit that I don’t know how someone plans to manipulate her, but the lengths they’ve already gone to tell me that they have a plan, and they believe it will work.”
“Well, shit, then we’d better get to Ceres as fast as we can.”
Cassie walked to the door and palmed it open. “Aren’t we already doing that?”
“You know what I mean, Cassie.”
PINAN GODAN
STELLAR DATE: 02.21.4084 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: TMS Fleetwings 17, Approaching Ceres
REGION: Main Asteroid Belt, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
The ship was still a few hours from docking at Ceres’ Insi Ring, but Tanis wanted to get a feel for Bella beforehand. After peeling off the mirrorsheath, she took a long shower then sifted through the clothing Darla had purchased, looking for something that suited her next cover.
“It’s growing on me,” Tanis replied as she held up a long coat. “I still don’t think it’s me, but I also think that’s part of why I like it.”
Tanis decided not to question Darla’s acceptance as she pulled on the loose slacks and grey blouse she’d selected. Once they were situated, she fastened a wide belt around her waist, buckling it tight before pulling on the flowing, ankle-length, silken coat that was Bella’s preference.
The final part of the outfit was a protective film she sprayed on the bottom of her feet.
“OK…I like everything about this cover except that she likes to go barefoot.”
“I guess it’s somewhat practical now, with a layer of pro-skin.”
“Good idea.”
Bella was an accomplished martial artist, which suited Tanis well, as she’d studied Wado Ryu karate for years. She thought through the discipline’s katas as she walked into the clear space in the center of her cabin, and decided on Pinan GoDan.
It had been some years since she had practiced karate, but as she calmed her breathing and settled into masuba dachi to start, the moves came back to her, and she performed them almost instinctively.
Her clothing rustled around her as she eased through the kata’s forms, finally reaching the kokutso dachi, while simultaneously, throwing the left soto uke—careful not to have her flowing sleeves slap her in the face—and delivered a right gedan uke to the front.
With a deep exhale, Tanis pulled her right foot back and relaxed her arms in hachiji dachi before closing to masuba dachi, and then lowering her head to rei.
She played a holo of herself going through the moves and nodded in satisfaction. “Seems I still have it.”
“Hey, that was my first kata in years. Give me a break.”
“I got to third degree before I became an L2. Mimicking a tenth should be a breeze now.”
Tanis settled into masuba dachi once more and repeated the forms until she could complete the entire Pinan GoDan kata in what felt like a single, flowing motion.
Her enhanced reflexes and L2 speed would render her movements as little more than a blur to most people, and she knew it wasn’t the point of kata to perform it so fast, but Tanis rather liked the feeling of flying through it.
Once she had satisfied herself with the high-speed edition, she slowed back down to the pace she knew would have pleased her sensei.
A moment of curiosity hit her, and she wondered what Sensei Guthrie was doing now, if he still taught in his small dojo in the hills above the Melas Chasma. She considered visiting him as Bella at some point; it could be an amusing diversion.
With Pinan GoDan remastered, Tanis worked through the other seven Wado Ryu katas until she knew that each one would have received perfect marks from Sensei Guthrie.
As she finished, an alert came in that the Fleetwings 17 would be docking at Ceres’ Insi Ring in two hours, along with a warning to prepare for a hard burn in thirty minutes, effectively ending Tanis’s practice session.
“I guess it’s time to be Claire one more time,” she said with a sigh, eyeing the mirrorsheath, now feeling loathe to put it back on.
Bella felt so honest in who she was, while Claire seemed like one big lie.
Though I suppose they’re all lies….
After a few moments’ consideration, she opted to forgo the mirrorsheath and instead selected an ankle-length gown. But as she began to pull it on, Tanis realized that it was so tight, it almost welded her ankles together.
“Seriously, Darla. I actually need to be able to move around in these outfits,” she muttered while pulling it off and searching for something better, carefully avoiding the dreaded ball dress.