Mission Pack 2: Missions 5-8 (Black Ocean Mission Pack)

by J. S. Morin

  He hadn’t thought about it that way. To all appearances, Mort had been sitting on his ass playing cards by himself while Roddy worked. Taking a quick count of his remaining supplies, Roddy extracted a beer from a dwindling case. He lobbed it to Mort. “Helluva day, huh?”

  Fluttering his fingers, Mort stopped the can’s flight halfway and sent it drifting back. “Thanks, but you’ll need it worse than I do. It takes a clear head to warp my thoughts just right. What I need is sleep. All this stifling of magic… it’s enough to make a fellow take up biochemistry.”

  “Can’t have that.”

  “We’ll take another crack in the morning.”

  “Think anyone’s coming back?” Roddy asked. He’d assumed someone would have returned to the Mobius by now. None of them had said a word about being gone overnight. If worse came to worst, he and Mort could probably get the ship off Ithaca. His gaze wandered to the engines, wondering just how long it would take to get them up and running at the rate they’d been working.

  “We’re not leaving until they do.”

  Roddy snapped a wide-eyed stare at Mort. Had the bloody wizard read his mind, or was he just that obvious? He took a dry swallow and nodded slowly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  # # #

  Carl awoke to a boot toe jabbing him in the ribs. Much as he might have wished otherwise, it wasn’t a new experience. A grunt, a groan, and muttered curse later, he opened his eyes. Light streamed in through the transparent panels in the stone walls. On this kooky moon, he couldn’t tell whether it was from Ithaca’s neighboring moon or the planet it orbited, but it definitely wasn’t from the local sun. Bathed in pale crimson rays, a marine stood over him. At least the spear the marine carried wasn’t pointed his way.

  “Come off it, Vasquez,” Carl mumbled, still working the gummy remnants of sleep from his mouth. “Can’t a guy get a full night around here? I walked about a thousand klicks yesterday.”

  “I’m Heatherton, jackass,” the marine said. “Now where’d your xeno friends go?”

  Carl sat up and stretched. The musky scent of his animal skin blanket clung to him, making his nose wrinkle. “Sorry. You boys are all shaped the same, and I don’t exactly have a datapad to keep you all straight.”

  Heatherton leaned down and put his face within millimeters of Carl’s. “The cat and dog, where are they?”

  “Back off, no-neck,” Carl said, pushing himself off the far side of the makeshift bunk. He chuckled once, before stopping himself short. “Kubu’s clearly a dog, but I can’t remember the last time I thought of Mriy as a cat. She’d tear my throat out for—”

  “Where are they?” Heatherton snapped.

  “Lemme guess, you were on sentry duty,” Carl said, standing and stretching his back with a symphony of crackles. A spacer’s life was rough on the body, and he felt older in the mornings than he had any right to. “Sorry. Can’t say where they went.”

  “You’re their captain.”

  Carl put on his best smirk. “Doesn’t mean as much in civilian life. All it really means is I own the ship. I can kick them off at any starport, but they can dump me out an airlock if they get sick of me. Not exactly the kind of authority you’re used to in a C.O.”

  The next thing Carl knew, there was a spear tip hovering centimeters from his face. “One more chance. Where’d your friends go?”

  “Or what? You stab me? Azrael needs me as a bargaining chip. You have a chain of command, and I’m on the protected species list.”

  “I could still break bones to get you to talk.”

  “I’ve had pros work me over, buddy,” Carl said. “Mind scanners, wizards… I’ve been beaten within a millimeter of my life so many times I started keeping score. You don’t look like a contender. Besides, Azrael needs me to cooperate. Last guy the navals are going to believe is a retired officer who looks like a Zero-G League loser.”

  Carl watched as the computer in the marine’s brain tried to process everything he’d said. Of course, on this tech-hating world, there was probably an abacus in there instead, clacking away madly trying to make sense of the quandary Carl had put him in. The odds of his survival in the event that the marine got rough with him were slim. But this was a battle of wits, and the spear Heatherton carried was more of a hindrance than an aid. It’s hard to think of clever arguments while armed. A weapon insists on simple, bloody solutions.

  Heatherton grabbed a handful of Carl’s shirt, just above the shoulder. “We’re going to see Azrael.”

  “Good,” Carl said, tearing himself loose from Heatherton’s grasp. Despite being a head shorter, he met the marine’s eye and stepped past him.

  # # #

  It wasn’t a long walk, and Carl’s legs were glad of it. Slogging through the jungle all day had half killed him, and however much sleep he’d gotten hadn’t been enough. But Heatherton escorted him back to the marines’ headquarters, and it seemed like the whole town had turned out for the show.

  The light reflecting off the planet far overhead had a reddish hue; it wasn’t a pretty world they orbited. Everything in the alien city took on a sinister aspect. But through that dull crimson overlay, Carl attempted to count marines. Unfortunately, they didn’t line up, or arrange themselves into formation to make it easy on him. They watched from ramps or from balconies overhead. Some came via side streets. All joined in the procession, as they must have surmised the destination of Carl and the sentry.

  By the time they reached Azrael’s office, the wizard was awake and waiting. Carl’s best guess as to the number of marines was forty, and he couldn’t take any more time to shore up that figure without making it obvious what he was up to. Instead, he focused his attention on the wizard who commanded them all.

  “You guys keep odd hours around here,” he said. “This couldn’t have waited until morning?”

  “This isn’t a planet,” Azrael replied. “We get rotational and ecliptic nighttimes. It’s impossible to keep a day-and-night schedule for sleeping. So no, this couldn’t wait until daylight.”

  Messerschmidt stepped forward, separating herself from the pack of marines to stand by Azrael’s right hand. Aside from taking orders from a naval wizard, it appeared that the chain of command was intact. A bunch of enlisted grunts needed an officer around. They drew on that borrowed authority. “Where did your two companions go?” She tried to lock stares with Carl; in return, he pointedly didn’t look above her collarbone.

  “They’re off to rescue the rest of my crew,” Carl replied.

  A hand cuffed Carl in the head from behind. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Heatherton demanded.

  “Lay off him,” Messerschmidt ordered before returning her glare to Carl. “We warned you about the dangers of the jungle at night.”

  “And you told me that the Odysseus was a death trap,” Carl replied. “I sent four of my own, including my sister, to check out the wreck.”

  Azrael clasped his hands in front of his face, index fingers extended and tapping against his lips. “So you killed six of your crew instead of four,” he said. A hint of a smile played at his lips. “I remember your call sign… Blackjack. Gambling with lives now?”

  “I’ve always gambled with lives,” Carl replied. “If I thought I had shit’s chance in a crapper, I’d have gone with them.” It wouldn’t have been his first choice of metaphors in most circumstances, but he’d learned that one from Tanny, who’d picked it up in her marine days. Azrael wasn’t the only one listening. “But I’m dehydrated, slow, and without a blaster or a Typhoon, I’m useless in a fight. Those two I sent into the jungle? Killers. Plus, they volunteered. I don’t leave my crew behind to die without doing anything I can to save them. And I don’t spit in the face of bravery.”

  “And yet, you’re here, safe and sound,” Messerschmidt said.

  “A good commander knows when he’s a liability on a mission,” Carl said. “Hell, even I know that. They’ll do better on their own for this one. What you should be worried about is those navals.
And as long as you’ve still got me, you’re all set. So power down those engines and let’s all get some sleep.”

  “You’re right,” Azrael said, unclasping his hands and tucking them behind his back. He paced back and forth in front of Carl, eyeing him all the while. “Take him to the guard spire. I want two guards watching him at all times—at all times—no matter what tricks he might use to get you to look aside. If he plays at our table, he uses our cards. He’s our chip to play.”

  “Well put,” Carl said.

  “I thought you, of all people, would appreciate it,” Azrael said as a pair of marines grabbed Carl by the upper arms and dragged him away. “Chips are meant to be played, but even played expertly, there’s a good chance they will be lost. I will not have my chip stolen from me.”

  # # #

  If there was one thing that could be said for the Earth Navy personnel, it was this: they knew their jungle. The light of the red planet above was enough for them to navigate without hesitation. Even just trying to keep up, Tanny stumbled several times on unseen obstacles along the trail. On each occasion, she caught herself before tumbling face first into the dirt and humiliating herself. Her reflexes were slowing; she could feel the sluggishness every time she tripped, during that split-second sensation of falling. Sooner or later, unless she was careful, she wouldn’t be quick enough to stay on her feet.

  “How much farther?” Rhiannon asked through heavy breathing. She’d had the worst day of it. It was surprising that she was still putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Half hour, maybe,” Niang replied from the head of the group. “We don’t have chronos and satellite maps, so it’s all guesswork.”

  “Is the jungle always this quiet?” Charlie asked.

  Tanny perked up her ears. She hadn’t noticed, but aside from the rustle of wind in the vine-choked brush, there were no sounds except for the procession of humans.

  “Wasn’t when we got here,” Niang said. “There was all manner of wild critters roaming around at night. Most of ‘em are gone now, or hide when they catch a sniff of us. Most of ‘em aren’t good eating, but it pays to keep the place clear of carnivores.”

  “You hunted them all?” Esper asked. Unlike the rest of them, she seemed no worse for wear after the day’s trials.

  “All’s a big word,” Niang replied. “But yeah, we hunted the hell outta those things. Xenos give us shit for being farmers, but they forget that 40,000 years ago, we humans were an extinction-level event back home. We’re survivors. We adapt. Lieutenant Kwon’s big on that one—reminding us we’re built to adapt.”

  “Sephiera’s with you?” Charlie asked.

  “With us? She’s our C.O.,” Niang said. “Highest ranking officer to survive impact. She’s the one who’s kept us alive all this time.”

  “You know her?” Rhiannon asked. Tanny clenched her jaw but kept quiet. They were officers on board the same ship. Even if they only crossed paths at staff briefings, they’d know one another. But Rhiannon was teasing out intel, even if that wasn’t her goal. The more Tanny knew about the crash survivors before reaching their camp, the safer they’d all be.

  “The ladies on the Odysseus had a Tuesday night poker game, officers only,” Charlie said. “I sat in on it a few times, but I preferred the hangar crew game. Non-coms spiced things up; it’s funny how bars on the shoulder can cram a stick up some people’s asses.”

  “Amen,” one of the naval enlisted personnel said.

  The procession tromped through the wilderness in relative silence for a time. Tanny could feel the jitters in her muscles as prolonged exertion burned off the drugs in her system. It shouldn’t have come on so quickly, but the chemical enhancements she’d relied on since joining the marine corps were as much A-tech as the engines of the Mobius—actually, quite a bit more so.

  “How come most science doesn’t work on this moon, but biology seems fine?” Tanny asked. “I mean, you’re not all mutated, so cell division still works. You must be breaking down proteins. Neurotransmitters work.”

  “Lieutenant Kwon explains it better,” Niang said. “But the quick answer is it’s magic, and who the hell knows?”

  “Each of us exerts our own self-image,” Esper said, quietly enough that most of the troupe probably hadn’t heard her. “You prove your right to exist to the universe with each breath. It takes strong, direct action for magic to disrupt biological function.”

  “You a wizard or something?” Niang asked.

  “Not yet,” Esper replied. Tanny wasn’t sure whether it was modesty or common sense not to tell Niang that she was. Plenty of wizards couldn’t do better than patching up a busted star-drive and laid claim to the title.

  “Got nothing but shit from magic and wizards since we been down here,” Niang said. His men shifted aside a bale of jungle vines that had been laid across the trail. In the darkness, it seemed a pointless precaution, but if it had been light out it would have obscured the trail. “We live like savages when there’s half a modern battleship parked up there in the mountainside. All ‘cause this crummy moon thinks it knows better than science.”

  “And Azrael,” one of the enlisted men said. “Don’t forget that toad.”

  “Who’s Azrael?” Esper asked.

  Charlie snorted. “One of the star-drive schmucks. Got a nose-lift when he got assigned to the Odysseus. Thought it made him a big deal being on a top-secret assignment.”

  “That’s the one,” Niang said. The jungle path had twisted back until they were heading into the mountains once again, though not the one that had the Odysseus jutting from its side. “Him and a bunch of the marines went loco. Started claiming they talked to some local alien god. Marines lapped up that bullshit like kittens at a saucer of milk.”

  “Why would the marines follow a low-ranking wizard?” Tanny asked. She shifted her pack, hoping that in the darkness, no one had made out the marine insignia tattooed on her shoulder.

  “Lack of science got to ‘em,” Niang said. “Hard to blame ‘em, I guess. That sewage running in their veins stopped working. They would have had to flex some honest muscle for a living, instead of letting the pharma-juice—whatever the hell they called it—do it for ‘em.”

  “Recitol,” Charlie said, glancing over her shoulder at Tanny. “Pretty sure that’s the stuff.”

  Niang let out a whoop. “Wreck-it-all! Hell, how’d a fella forget that? Anyhoo, Azrael’s god buddy hooked ‘em up with a magic fix. They seem ornery and stim-headed as ever, so I suppose it worked. Well, us and them didn’t see eye-to-eye about turning our backs on the good Lord and going xeno-heathen.”

  “You’re all members of the One Church?” Esper asked. Tanny bit back a sardonic laugh. It was amazing how naive she could be at times.

  Niang scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, couple maybe. We got all kinds. I’m a Universalist Seeder myself. Not that it matters, all are welcome who aren’t serving whatever that alien thing is—ain’t no God if it ain’t made Earth.”

  “Amen,” one of the naval enlisted personnel said, and a few belated echoes followed from his comrades.

  “Enough of that though,” Niang said. “You folks must be hungry, tired, and thirsty. And we’re pretty much here.”

  The trail ended abruptly at the edge of a chasm. The planet-light was insufficient to make out the other side. The top rungs of a ladder peeked over the edge. Tanny stepped close to look down. It was only a few meters to a landing and a set of trails that disappeared into a darkness broken up by dots of firelight.

  “One at a time on the ladder, and watch your step on the trail,” Niang said. “Guard rails are up and installed near the bottom, but we ain’t got ‘em the whole way up yet.”

  Tanny’s legs wobbled beneath her, and she concentrated on staying upright. Distance was impossible to judge, but the chasm had to have been a hundred meters deep at the least. The fires… there were more than she had expected from the naval camp, too many to count. “How many of you survived the cr
ash?”

  “Official census on crash day was 1,216,” Niang said flatly. The flippant enthusiasm had been sucked right out of him. “Now last I heard, we’ve got 283.”

  Tanny’s ace card to play had been the prospect of transport off Ithaca. Niang’s platoon and an equal number back at their camp site would have packed the Mobius floor to ceiling, but it could have worked. Now, if she were to mention an escape plan, there might be a riot.

  “Come on,” Niang said. “Ain’t so bad these days. The Lieutenant’s found cures for the worst of the local diseases, and even made up a few vaccines. We own the jungle for a few klicks in any direction. And hey, now the population’s up by four, am I right?”

  Tanny forced a smile. “Yeah.”

  Niang was the first one onto the ladder. He climbed down until just his head was poking over the edge. “And you’re lucky, ladies. Got to you just in time to keep the growlers from coming out after you.”

  # # #

  Mriy had hunted on a dozen planets both for food and for sport. None smelled anything like Ithaca. She couldn’t tell a flower from a rodent, a fungus from an apex predator. If it weren’t for the distinctive familiarity of her own scent and those of Kubu and Carl, she would have been scent-blind finding her way back to the crash site. But retracing their journey wasn’t good enough for the haste their mission demanded. Relying on glimpses of the distant mountains through the grass-like trees, she aimed them for the wreck of the Odysseus.

  Kubu was an amiable companion. He loped along at her side, taking occasion to eat some small creature or another along the way. No complaint did he offer, nor did he slow her in the least. Had he not needed Mriy’s guidance, she had no doubt he could have effortlessly outpaced her to the crashed battleship.

  A quick burst of staccato clicks caught Mriy’s attention. Hunting instincts took over before her conscious mind could react. The noise came from the left, downwind of her. She had Carl’s sword out in front of her before the first beast leapt from the underbrush.

  The creature was wolf-sized, but the pale red planet-light reflected off chitinous plates. A four-mandibled jaw led the way as it lunged toward her, angled for her throat. Enchanted steel bit deep, and the creature impaled itself on the blade, but the creature’s momentum drove Mriy to the ground. It twitched in its death throes and lay still, but it was only the first.