AfterLife

by BL Craig

  “The plan remains the same,” Elva announced from the head of the conference room table. They had extracted Karl Marx and the extra consoles, restoring the room to something like its earlier state of tidiness. “We’ve got seven jumps back to Rannit One, with our extra short stop for charging. We’ll insert to intercept Tesla. We can activate tight beam transfer of the data during docking as a back-up, just in case we have to leave without the probe. Once we have the probe on board, we jump out of system.” She indicated the rendezvous point on the display. “If anything goes sideways, we jump away and abandon the probe to self-destruct.”

  Crew morale had taken a dip after the revelation of the pulsar nexus. The presence of such a massive flow of traffic between worlds boded poorly for humanity’s chances in a straight-out war. The ace in the hole that the FTL Hades fleet represented was diminished greatly by the fact that AfterLife was in the business of survey, service, and supply, not in making machines of war.

  Elva was Navy, born and bred. It was a tried but true trope in military service, when in doubt, keeping busy was always better than brooding. She set the crew to “preventative maintenance.” She preferred a regular maintenance schedule and a quick response to small problems before they became big ones, but every now and then it was good to get eyes and hands on as many parts of the ship as they could. It kept the crew familiar with all the nooks and crannies where gremlins could hide.

  She set a schedule and a roster, less intensive than the hold project. She also set rotating teams. She knew if left to their own the crew would default to their usual partnerships. Addy and Brooks were already a well-oiled team. Sarah and William had bonded quickly and would gravitate together. Which left Elva and Alex. Elva was fond of the older woman and respected the hell out of her expertise and experience, but in most circumstances, they tended toward working independently. She purposefully rotated the teams and tasks making everyone work with a different partner on projects in areas outside of their normal responsibilities.

  She paired William and Brooks, in a calculated risk. The engineer seemed to have mellowed somewhat toward the young helmsman, but he was notoriously hardheaded. She needed Brooks to accept William as one of their own. The only way she could think of was to just grind him down. William was very likeable and had a vulnerability that might appeal to Brooks’ protective nature, if he could just get his head out of his ass long enough to see it.

  * * *

  …

  * * *

  William felt that he had had enough of cleaning and inventory for a good long time, but the Captain had assigned him and Brooks to systematically go through the crates of back up gear and run calibrations. A few of the consoles they had pulled out for the conference room work during the pulsar nexus trip had developed glitches during storage. The Captain wanted to make sure that all the back-up equipment was in good order. Quantum computing devices were never powered down, just put in low power standby with fusion batteries that would last centuries if not millennia. Still, even secured in their crates, the equipment received a great deal more cosmic radiation than a planet side unit would. Bitflip—when a piece of data in the system randomly changed from one state to another—was, evidently, a chronic problem and the reason why every computational device shipboard had redundancies.

  They were in Brooks’ electronics space which, unlike Addy’s warren, contained a minimal amount of clutter. William got to learn all about bitflip from Brooks, who tended to alternate between long silences and talking to himself while he worked. William let the other man speak in stream of consciousness for the first long while, but then, because he was terribly confused, he started asking questions. He was worried that the questions would just irritate Brooks, but William had never been comfortable pretending he understood something when he did not. Good pilots ask questions. Not asking questions could get people killed. And he figured, what the hell, if Brooks is going to explode, better to get it over with instead of standing under the Sword of Damocles, waiting.

  Evidently, William’s questions were not patently idiotic because Brooks answered them with a minimal amount of snark. From bitflip, they went on to the difficulties of controlling power distribution during FTL slipstream and Brooks’ rhapsodic appreciation for the elegance of sub-light drives. William only had a surface comprehension of what Brooks was saying but talking about his work seemed to soothe the other man.

  “So, were you a drive engineer like Addy before you died?” William was taking a big risk with this one. He still didn’t understand the etiquette about discussing first lives.

  “No, I designed leisure infrastructure.”

  “Leisure infrastructure?”

  “I started out in roller coasters. Planet side, then orbital. Then I moved on to designing the courses for stunt flight competitions. Stunt pilots are fucking insane. I really liked seeing if I could make courses they’d back down from. Never did. Like I said, fucking insane.”

  “So, designing rollercoasters is similar to stellar flight engineering?”

  “Oh sure, you know, physics is physics.” Brooks waved his hand diffidently.

  “Really?”

  “No, not fucking really. It’s totally different, but the company doesn’t need leisure engineers. They gave me a year of intense ‘transition training’ and now I’m a—what did you call it, stellar flight engineer? That is not my job title, by the way. Is that what they call it in the Navy?”

  “No, they call them engineers, but I’m just the monkey who drives the ship around. At least that’s what the Navy engineers called pilots behind their backs.”

  “Hmm,” grunted Brooks. “Yeah, well, the Navy sucks. All that pomp and tradition and the fucking medals and outfits. What the hell has the Navy ever done? Fucking pointless if you ask me. No wonder the Captain quit. You’re not one of those dyed in the wool 15th generation fleet jocks, right?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so. They don’t end up here. Excepting the Captain and Jason.”

  “The Captain and her husband quit the Navy before they died?”

  “They got tired of the pointlessness of it all. Decided they wanted to enjoy themselves and actually be around while their kid grew up. Guess it really pissed off the brass. The Admiral, the Captain’s mom, full on disowned them. Repudiated, renounced, rejected. Then, before they could even enjoy retirement they got killed in a freak ‘accident’ on the way to meet up with their kid.”

  “Accident?”

  “Yeah, well, AfterLife loves getting their hands on Navy officers. They’re plug and play for the Hades Fleet. All trained up and ready to roll. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t arrange for them to be bumped off as soon as the ink was dry on the mortgage contract.”

  William was familiar with the Navy’s disdain for reanimates and the 1st Lifers who took out mortgages. To hear the other junior officers talk about it, the Navy was the last bastion of human ingenuity. Everyone else was a useless sponge. Never mind that the whole point of the Navy was to protect those useless sponges.

  “I’m surprised that they took you with a mortgage. You had one before you joined? Or was that why you got sent to Mirada?”

  “Well, I didn’t take out the mortgage. I sort of inherited that. The recruiters didn’t love it, but honestly, I think they have a hard time getting any new blood. I tried not to talk about it with the other junior offices, but it ended up being common knowledge. I think some of the people above me kind of pitied me for it.” William also suspected that command had not trusted him because of that mortgage. Schlepping supplies around Mirada, so far from the core systems, was not a glamourous job. Huge chunks of leave time were eaten up just getting back and forth to visit home.

  “Huh, yeah. Well, I guess it’s shit all around.”

  William didn’t know what to make of Brooks. The man had seemed ready to beat him to a pulp back when they arrived at Mirada, but now he seemed to grudgingly accept William, for no reason he could discern. They were not go
ing to be buddy-buddy, but William would feel a little less jumpy when rounding corners alone.

  Or maybe he should be more jumpy, as the man was clearly paranoid. AfterLife had been around for centuries. Did he really think there was a bureaucrat somewhere reviewing contracts and assigning them for assassination to fulfill an HR quota?

  10

  Alternative Dispute Resolution

  The ship now shining from bow to stern, the crew turned to the impending reconnaissance of Rannit One. This would be the most dangerous part of their assignment so far. The plan for the probe retrieval was sound. Space is large, and one small ship, there and gone in a few minutes, would be nearly impossible to detect unless the Rannit knew exactly where to look.

  Per the new procedure, the last jump was a short one, just an hour. They all tried to relax in preparation. William found that the adjustments Sarah had made to his NCM had stopped the sudden wall of emotional apathy, but he still lacked the jitteriness that usually accompanied anticipation or anxiety. He would have thought that a good thing, but the strange disconnect of intellectual anticipation from bodily response was unnerving. As a pilot he had learned when to listen to his nerves and how to sooth himself when necessary, but the calming breaths did not work at all now. He was grateful that the wait was finally coming to an end.

  “Dropping out of slipstream in 20 seconds,” he announced. Alex was monitoring comms, waiting to get the lay of land and intercept any messages, though unlikely, that might come their way in system. Brooks and Addy were in engine control, overseeing the partition jump. “Real space in 5 . . .4 . . .3 . . .2 . . .1.” He prepared to switch over to sub light control and adjust the ship’s attitude to pick up Tesla.

  “Probe is right where it’s supposed to be, Captain,” Alex confirmed.

  “Excellent. Signal the tight beam. Clarke and Brooks, get the probe back inside.”

  There was a loud thunk.

  “What was that?” demanded the Captain.

  “I’m not—” William was interrupted by another heavy “thunk.”

  “Something is attaching to the hull,” said Alex. She put an image on the display.

  “Construction corvettes,” the Captain declared. “Someone is trying to capture us. Get us out of here, Butcher.”

  The smaller ships were a variant of the drones used in space dock to assemble, repair, and in some cases, move much larger vessels. The corvettes were pretty much all engine with strong clamp arms and magnets.

  William was fighting the two smaller ships. “Captain, they’re trying to drag us. We can’t jump until we know the mass of what’s attached.” A third corvette slammed into the Tilly as he spoke.

  “Protocol Alpha.” The implant under William’s jaw crackled to life. The Captain had programed a suite of actions in case of discovery. The ship was now on high alert, running a number of commands to speed up crew responses. “Lights up. Active RADAR ping. We need to know what’s out there.”

  The outside of the ship lit up, revealing a dozen more corvettes, an armed patrol cruiser, and a mobile docking station. The “ship” part of the docking station consisted of a rectangular hull with many windows and drives on one end. The rest of the dock was a massive cradle that looked like a cylindrical crab trap. The docking station was still far off, but the cruiser was closing in fast. With the corvettes working against their engines, the cruiser would be on them quickly.

  The rail gun hummed to life and William vaguely noticed the weapons hot icon flash red on his console. William’s job, to get them away from the alien vessels, was complicated by the need to give the Captain a firing arc. The swarm of corvettes was coming at them from opposite sides, as the ones attached pushed the ship toward the swarm so more could clamp on. Even with Addy pushing the engines past redline, the corvettes were gaining. Every time one got close, the Tilly lost a little more ground. William was doing his best, but the need to vector off the best flight path to give the Captain a shot was costing time they did not have.

  The rail gun fired at the trailing corvettes, turning one out in a cloud of shrapnel.

  “Captain, John’s trying to knock one of those corvettes off the hull with Tesla,” Sarah shouted over the com. “Try not to hit it with the rail gun.”

  “Captain, there’s one coming in from port low,” William warned as the rail gun fired again to starboard.

  “I’m not going to get it. The gun doesn’t traverse fast enough.”

  William rolled the Tilly in an attempt to bring the gun to bear, but instinct told him he was not going to make it. At the last second, he reversed the roll. Instead of the exterior of the ship, the corvette latched onto the large communications array. As soon as the corvette tried to apply breaking thrust, there was the sound of tearing metal and the whole array broke off the ship. As the Tilly pulled away, there were crashing sounds as the corvette and array bounced off the hull.

  “William, could you not bang my ship up more than necessary,” Addy cried over the com.

  With a small adjustment, the bow came around just enough and William smiled as the rail gun punched big holes through the offending craft.

  “Haruna, any luck getting a mass calculation for jump?” asked the Captain.

  “Almost. If we assume they’re uniform, I should be able to get a good enough estimate if you can fly straight for a bit and not attract any more. Of course, if they’re blasting sub-lights when we jump, that could be just a bit of a problem.”

  The Captain grunted, firing at the corvettes and scoring another hit. They were fast, making high-gee, hard turns at unpredictable angles. They were learning to avoid the rail gun by dispersing around the larger ship. The Captain was not able to connect with any more of the corvettes, but her fire was keeping them off the Tilly, for now.

  William fought the corvettes for helm control, which severely hampered the speed and maneuverability of the ship. The corvettes started making coordinated burns to pull the ship off course and interfere with the Captains targeting. Either the drones were very smart, or someone was sending them updated instructions.

  The swarm closed in again as the gun fire became less effective. Just as the situation was becoming desperate, Tesla swung into view.

  “You’re not the only one that can fly,” Brooks called from the probe control below decks. Burning hard, the doomed drone-turned-battering-ram flashed just past the bow, smashing fantastically to pieces as it slammed into one of the attached corvettes. It sheared off nearly half of the corvette, and only the clamp remained attached to the Tilly. The Captain and William fell back into a turn-shoot-turn rhythm. Most of the shots did not hit, but the corvettes were forced to take evasive maneuvers that kept them from latching on to the Tilly.

  “Captain,” interjected Brooks, “We got 64% of Tesla’s data before it went bravely into the next life.”

  “Good job,” replied the Captain. “Now, plot us a course out of here and send it to the helm. Butcher and I are a little busy. Haruna, I need that mass calculation now.”

  Right then, something streaked by the Tilly and exploded just off the bow. It was not close enough to damage the ship, but the little pings of shrapnel sounding off the hull told everyone the chase was over.

  “Shit, that was a warning shot. The next one is already in space and closing fast. I suspect it will be locked on.”

  “Incoming communication from the Rannit, Captain,” Alex announced.

  “Put it on speaker,”

  “Vessel of humans you are stopped. Further strife omit.” The voice was high pitched, like a child’s. William recalled that the Rannit vocalizations had been musical and child-like to human ears. “Omit strife for immunity to mischief. Discontinue velocity.”

  “Shut it down, Butcher. We’re going to have to figure out some other way to escape.”

  The Captain powered down the gun as Addy killed the drives, but absent an order, William let the craft continue to drift away from the cruiser. Three of the remaining corvettes quickly clamped on in se
ries of ominous thunks. As the first, then the second corvette made contact, the second missile flipped around and fell in behind the Tilly on a trailing course, close, but no longer gaining. The approaching cruiser tracked them with multiple rail guns. Suddenly, electric arcs flared on the cruiser as one of the larger rail guns fired a single shot. For a moment William thought it was over, but with a loud bang, the kinetic ball cleanly picked off the Tilly’s railgun, leaving the hull unharmed and the ship unarmed.

  The Tilly was dragged ignobly into the docking cradle. They watched as the construction ship’s clamping arm then latched onto the Tilly’s hard points. The larger dock ship was obviously designed to work on a range of vessel sizes and shapes. It had no problem deploying arms to align with and surrounded the Tilly. Inside the armature, trying to jump to FTL would be suicidal, but would likely take the enemy out as well. Probably a fact the Rannit had not considered, having no FTL vessels of their own.

  The corvettes had turned the Tilly to line up with the docking port that was slowly extending from the end of walkway. William could see the Captain thinking furiously.

  “They’re planning to board. Let’s make it hard for them to find us. Everyone, hide as best you can. They’ll probably use IR or something similar to sweep the ship. Alex, go do what you can to make sure they don’t get anything that will help with an invasion. Butcher, you’re with me.”

  Alex stood up and headed off the bridge. The Rannit voice came back over the comms. “Vessel of humans will Rannit gang penetrate. Omit strife for immunity to mischief.”

  He paused a moment and then locked eyes with the Captain. Penetrate, mouthed the Captain at William. He could not help it. He let out a juvenile snicker. Had they gotten their lexicon from pornography? It was like a very early science fiction vid he’d seen once as a child. The kind where the alien is clearly just a decorated garbage can with flashing lights installed. Were the Rannit really planning on gang banging them? Or were they inviting the humans to gang bang them? He mouthed back gang to the Captain, who returned his snicker. They were definitely going to be taken hostage, probably to be experimented on, and they would ultimately die from lack of Elixir. But at least no one would know that two highly trained former naval officers were reduced to teenage tittering in their last free moments.