Voyager Dawn

by Richard Patton

  “What’s the situation, Sergeant?” Rhodes said finally, dragging his eyes away from Waffle to Mason.

  “Turner’s squad’s cleaning up, sir,” he barked. Ethan could see the flush in his face and knew he was still coming down from a battle high. He always sounded more like a sergeant when he was. “Found him coming through the fire zone so I brought him back,” he finished, pointing at Waffle.

  “Care to introduce us?” Rhodes asked. He looked between Ethan and Mason. Ethan assumed the question was directed at him, given Waffle’s clear affinity for him, but he was hesitant to answer.

  “His name is Waffle, sir,” he said, clearing his throat. Waffle hopped down to his arm upon hearing his name. Ethan brought him toward his chest defensively. “Lieutenant Goodman found him on the first patrol.”

  For a moment it seemed Rhodes was going to reprimand Ethan. Instead, after a second of consideration, he smiled and said, “I can’t say I’m surprised. Moira likes her pets. It might do her some good to see him.” He reached out and petted Waffle, inducing him to purr happily. “And a bit of new blood around camp couldn’t hurt. Just don’t expect me to take care of him.”

  “No, sir. He mostly takes care of himself,” Ethan responded.

  “Even better. Dismissed, Sergeant. Lieutenant.”

  Mason stomped smartly off and Ethan followed after him, catching up a few meters away. “How did you find him?” he asked.

  “Wasn’t kidding,” Mason said simply. “He just waltzed through the fight and jumped on my shoulder.”

  “Good thing he recognized you.”

  “I think he knew humans when he saw them. None of his buddies seemed to think the same, though.”

  “Buddies?”

  “About a hundred of them. Just like him. Swarming like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “What do you think set them off?” Ethan asked. He had seen Waffle in tense situations before. The creature was not keen on being near danger, and - more often than not - retreated into darkness when anyone other than Ethan or Moira was present. To charge into a firefight seemed astoundingly uncharacteristic.

  “Besides all the squad assault weaponry, you mean?” Mason laughed. “Hell if I know. Looked like they were hanging around the Naldím, though. Like hunting dogs.”

  Mind abuzz with this new information, Ethan lapsed into silence for the rest of their walk back to the tent. Most of the marines had returned from the perimeter now, uninjured for the most part but carefully examining their equipment. The quartermaster was forming the marines into a haphazard line around the munitions tent, carefully recording the ammunition they returned. From the look on his face as the pair passed by, Ethan could tell he was not optimistic about their reserves. It piqued another point of interest for Ethan.

  “Have you heard anything about food out here?” he asked.

  “Think Rhodes sent Yeller squad out with some of the geeks to look for something,” Mason answered. “Heard someone say there’s a good chance we can eat the food. Something about a ‘Mars-like environment’.”

  It made sense, Ethan supposed, that if the air was breathable, water was plentiful and the planet sustained life, the local flora would most likely be suitable for consumption. Unfortunately the scouting parties that had been sent out before the Naldím invaded had done little research in that field. The colonists’ primary concern had been preparing the planetside EcoDome for the colony, but the Naldím had interrupted the project before it could even start.

  The seeds, Ethan realized with a jolt. That’s another thing we lost to the Naldím. Almost nothing was gathered during the evacuation. Assuming Rhodes did not persist with his frustratingly passive stance, Ethan theorized they would raid Voyager Dawn for supplies very soon. He said as much to Mason.

  “Sure,” Mason agreed, “but we won’t get the ship back. It’d have to be in and out of the colony as fast as possible. Minimal casualties.”

  “Do you think Rhodes will ever try to take the ship back?” Ethan wondered.

  “He has to,” Mason said. He exhaled slowly. “I’ll admit Ford’s right. Kyle was too. This is one of those times you fight fire with fire. At some point, we’ll have to attack them.”

  “You don’t sound very happy about it,” Ethan observed.

  “I think we have to, but I don’t like it. Casualties are going to be through the roof, no matter how we do it.”

  “There’s got to be something,” Ethan said unhelpfully.

  Mason frowned. “Not that I can think of. Maybe the captain can. I’m just praying we make it to the finish line.”

  The Caves

  “The viruses have been uploaded and the systems are failing. It won’t be long until we have control of the ship.”

  “I intend to be rid of that vessel as soon as possible. Deploy a data link and transmit what you find directly to Nelda.”

  “We won’t be bringing the ship back with us?”

  “It has fouled our lives for long enough. Set it to detonate as soon as we are finished.”

  For the first time in months, Ethan was paged over his comm to report to the motorpool for scouting duty. He was ashamed for thinking it, but he found it a step down from his previous assignments. For a few glorious days he had been something special. Now he had returned to the rank and file, expected to perform the routine and menial, as ordered.

  His mood was lightened when Waffle decided to join him, finding a nest on the central console of the single Cobra that had been salvaged from the attack. Ethan slid into the driver’s seat and activated the engine. It hummed to life, notably lacking the usual rumble of the generator.

  He looked at Jess, who was manning the makeshift garage, a pitiful station barely resembling a parking lot, much less a motorpool. “No gas?” Ethan guessed.

  Jess took a moment to comprehend what he was talking about. “Oh. Yeah, no. Saving it for the DRACs.”

  “Is the captain planning something?”

  “I don’t know. Just saying.”

  Perturbed by Jess’s subdued response, Ethan shut off the Cobra again and approached her, Waffle scurrying along behind.

  “You okay?” Ethan asked slowly.

  “What? Yeah, fine,” Jess said.

  “Rick okay?” Ethan tried again.

  “All good. No, I was just thinking. You ever watch those apocalypse movies?”

  Ethan had to rack his brain. He was not one for film. “I guess.”

  “I always thought they were kind of scary. Not because of the monsters or anything. It’s the idea. How there’s no going back to the way the world was before. Kind of like now. Either way this goes down, it won’t be the same.”

  It was incredibly profound, coming from Jess. Ethan found himself at a loss for words. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Jess regained her composure and set about her duties. The Cobra was already prepped, but she insisted on checking the chassis.

  “Had an axle snap on us a month or so ago,” she said, carefully avoiding Ethan’s gaze as she scurried under the truck. “The terrain’s not much worse than Titan, say, but we’ve been putting them through hell without enough replacement parts.”

  “Did you scavenge anything from the Plymouth?” Ethan asked. He looked up at the sky as he said it. The last vestiges of toxic fumes from the wreckage were still shimmering in the air. The smoke had cleared away, but not long ago.

  “We did, but most of the actual repair stuff they were bringing got blown up,” Jess replied. Falling back into her comfort zone, Ethan could hear Jess’s voice lightening. “Anyway, she looks good to go.” The mechanic slid back out from under the Cobra and leaned against the hood. “Hey, where are you guys headed?”

  “Out,” Ethan answered. He glanced at the perimeter of the pool upon hearing the snap of twigs under boots. Omicron squad – and Briggs – were approaching. “It’s just a standard patrol pattern.”

  “Well, hey, if you find any debris from the Plymouth or something, let me know. We can use all the scutch we can find.
”

  Ethan gave her half a smile. “I doubt we’ll even find scutch.”

  Jess laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, guiding him around to the driver’s seat. “I want a souvenier anyway,” she said.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  The Cobra thrummed again as the motor spun up. As soon as Omicron squad had piled in, he stepped on the accelerator and roared out of camp.

  *

  Waffle provided commentary for most of the trip, dashing between the seats and alternating between a piercing screech and a quiet chittering as the terrain changed. It was slow going. They moved in a serpentine pattern, back and forth across the route the retreat had taken, until they found themselves almost halfway back to Voyager Dawn.

  The Cobra slowed to a crawl when the glinting flight deck became visible over the canopy. They had not been gone long, and yet Ethan felt a pang of homesickness upon seeing the ship. He heard Mason swallow beside him.

  “Don’t stop,” Rebecca muttered from overhead. She had stood up from her seat and was resting her rifle on the rollbar. “Five – correction, six tangos to northeast. One hundred meters.”

  “Mark it,” Mason ordered. He leaned over Ethan and extracted a pair of binoculars.

  “Doesn’t look like they’re doing much,” Ford said, “just sort of standing there.” Regardless of the Naldím’s apparent passiveness, he swung the turret around to target them.

  “Wait, wait, don’t shoot,” Mason grunted. He looked through his binoculars again. “Something doesn’t look right.”

  “Yeah, it looks like alien scutch,” Ford shot back. “I say we plug them full of holes now before they get their friends.”

  Ethan suddenly became aware that he had brought the Cobra to a halt, unconsciously turning it away from the enemy. Looking away from the Naldím position, he took in the rest of their surroundings. Something was disconcertingly familiar.

  He looked down at Waffle. The animal was dead silent, curled up on the center console. Gently, Ethan picked him up and placed him on the dash board. Instantly, Waffle reoriented himself to face eastward. Ethan scooted him back and forth, and every time he faced the same way. Ethan grinned, an idea starting to form.

  Throwing the Cobra into gear, Ethan spun the vehicle around and started east.

  “What the hell are you doing, Ethan?” Mason shouted, abandoning all stealthy pretense.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Ethan said. “Trust me. I know where we are.”

  “Yeah, that helps,” Ford drawled, leaning in from the turret. “You mind filling us in?”

  “You’ll see,” Ethan said, smirking. He felt practically giddy over the brilliance of his idea, and relished in its secrecy.

  Within minutes, he found what he was looking for. The Cobra pulled up to the yawning mouth of a cave littered with animal bones and dried blood.

  “Oh, hell no, Walker,” Ford said.

  Mason seconded the opinion. “Don’t know what you’re planning, Ethan, but it’s not worth this.”

  “No, look,” Ethan said. He picked up Waffle and put him on the dash again. Instinctively, it seemed, he spun around to face the cave, chattering excitedly.

  “What am I looking at?” Mason said, checking himself a second later. “Never mind. We’re not going back in there.”

  “What’s in there that’s so bloody awful?” Briggs asked suddenly.

  “Those ferals we fought off yesterday?” Mason reminded Briggs. “This is where they live.”

  “What the bloody hell are we doing following them home?” Briggs said, swiveling his head between Ethan and Mason.

  “Exactly,” Ford chimed in.

  “Rebecca,” Ethan said, turning to her. Much to his surprise, she tilted her head at Mason, deferring to his authority.

  “Now you don’t have an opinion?” he grumbled. Another look at Mason told him his cause was lost. Ethan shifted the Cobra back into gear and started back the way they came, Waffle staring east the entire time.

  The Naldím they had spotted earlier had disappeared in their absence and Mason declared the scouting run over a few klicks later. When the squad returned to camp, Ethan excused himself to his tent.

  Waffle claimed the cushioned head of Ethan’s bedroll, and watched as Ethan shed his body armor. After a moment he approached the chest guard, curling up on its warm metal surface. Ethan stared at him silently for a moment before taking a seat himself on the bed.

  “I know what you were thinking,” a voice said suddenly. Ethan recognized Rebecca’s voice but did not turn. Instinctively, he felt a rush of cold animosity toward her, but the fact that she had come to see him gave him pause. He waited silently for her to continue.

  “With that animal,” Rebecca said, pointing at Waffle. “You wanted to use him to get close to the ferals.”

  “I think we can talk to them,” Ethan said, turning slowly to face her. Rebecca looked at him blankly, prompting him to explain. “Mason said the animals like Waffle were acting like pets to the ferals.”

  “An assumption,” Rebecca interrupted.

  “Maybe,” said Ethan. He let the jet of annoyance that had shot up through his chest simmer down before going on. “But let’s assume they are. If the ferals see us with one of them, acting friendly, they might think we’re like them. They’re intelligent. They could figure it out.”

  “How do you know?” Rebecca’s tone implied skepticism, but not disbelief.

  “I heard about them while I was on the Naldím ship. Thar’o told me they were banished here a century ago. Without technology and culture, they’ve devolved, but they still have language and society.”

  Rebecca lapsed into silence, enigmatically blank. Ethan studied her for a time before he decided she was not going to continue the conversation on her own. “What do you think?” he said, clearing his throat.

  “I don’t think it would work,” she muttered flatly, “but I’m not keen on the captain’s plan either.”

  “To sit around and do nothing?” Ethan guessed. Ethan had the distinct feeling that there was a consensus on the matter throughout the crew, but whether or not anyone was brave enough to confront the captain was another thing entirely. With Rebecca on their side, it seemed more likely something could be done. Then he remembered why she was assigned to the ship in the first place. “Isn’t that your mission? To sit here and wait while people die?” Ethan threw every ounce of bitterness into the words that he could muster. If Rebecca noticed, though, she didn’t show it.

  “If we all die before the fleet gets here, the Naldím will have left, and it will all have been for nothing,” she explained, infuriatingly patronizing. “It’s better we inflict as many casualties as we can without routing or destroying them. That’s why I went through with the attack on Tango Two.”

  Something clicked in Ethan’s mind. “You made sure we didn’t destroy both.”

  “No,” Rebecca said, her tone growing defensive. “I knew it wouldn’t work. The Naldím wouldn’t let it. But we could take out one of the ships, and we did.” Before Ethan could rile himself up again, she steered the conversation back on its original course. “I think we should try your idea.”

  Ethan hesitated, wondering for a moment where her support had come from. “Where was that support when we were out in the forest?” he scoffed.

  “I needed to weigh the options. And we’ll need more supplies than we had on hand.”

  Ethan sighed. Despite Rebecca’s aggressively blunt tone, she seemed to be dodging the one question that actually mattered. “So are you going to help me or what?”

  “Yes. Let’s talk to the captain.”

  The Ploy

  “Do you ever think about them? The Humans?”

  “They weigh on my mind quite prominently, yes.”

  “I mean as something other than simply what they represent. What they are doing, what they are thinking.”

  “That is immaterial. Do not trouble yourself with such notions. N’muhl’on has already fallen o
ut of favor with me for such interests, and I would rather not have to reprimand you as well.”

  At Rebecca’s suggestion, the pair decided to catch Rhodes away from the scrutinous commentary of Commander Hadings, and catching him with his pants down – in this case – was far too literal for Ethan’s liking.

  Rhodes stepped out of the bathroom cabinet on the edge of camp to find himself confronted by Ethan and Rebecca. Ethan averted his eyes slightly but stood at attention, while Rebecca merely maintained a look of cool professionalism.

  “Ladies’ is next door, Corporal,” Rhodes said, nudging his head in the direction of the adjoining closet.

  “I’m fine here, sir,” Rebecca said.

  “We wanted to speak with you, sir,” Ethan added.

  Rhodes sighed and scanned the camp behind them passively. “Can’t this wait until we’re in my tent?”

  “It’ll only take a second, sir,” Ethan pressed, “we just need you to sign off on it.”

  Rhodes wiped his hands on his pants unceremoniously and sighed again. “All right, let’s hear it.”

  Glancing back at Rebecca as if for approval, Ethan cleared his throat and began. “Well, sir, I heard the feral Naldím have a bond with some of the local fauna. You remember Waffle? Sir.”

  “Vividly.”

  “They’ve bonded with his species. I think showing them we have the same bond could spark trust. Maybe an alliance.”

  For a long time Rhodes said nothing, and when he finally did, his mouth curved halfway between a smirk and disbelief. “You want to befriend a hostile species because you both have the same pets?”

  “Well… yeah.”

  “I like you, Walker, and you’re a damned good pilot, but that is, without a doubt, the worst idea I’ve heard since the Scott twins suggested I install an arcade in the briefing room.” Ethan tried not to look hurt, though his heart had shriveled within the span of the captain’s statement. He knew it was a far-fetched plan, but he hadn’t expected such brutality from Rhodes.