“I’ll take my share of responsibility for what happened.”
Raising an eyebrow, Romanova replied, “Interesting. Many in your case would be ranting and raving about the system.” She looked at her tablet again, and continued, “Under normal circumstances, you’d already be in a holding cell, and your trial would have already been arranged. However, your actions in the alley have proven of great benefit to the Commonwealth of Mars. We owe you. And as a result, I think we’re able to make you another offer.”
“I won’t turn against my people. I won’t become an informant.”
“Given the campaign we’re preparing against you, that would never be an option.” Glancing at the terminal, she said, “Your scores in the refresher tests were excellent. More than enough to permit you to return to active duty status immediately.”
“What?”
“We’re offering you a chance to earn your freedom. Another four-year tour of duty, starting now, most of which will be spent in extrasolar space. Our propagandists will find another scapegoat, probably Harrison, and while your reputation won’t exactly be untarnished, you’ll be able to rebuild your life once you finish your service. I’d even be willing to arrange for you to be resettled on Callisto, or Deimos.”
“Meaning that you don’t want me to go home.”
“Think of it instead as being given a second chance. That’s something that very few in your position ever get. If you hadn’t saved the life of someone who held information of critical importance to the Commonwealth, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“One that allows you to use my name to repudiate everything I stand for.”
“Think of it this way,” Romanova said. “As it stands now, you will spend two years on Mercury, working in conditions that approximate Hell like no other inhabited part of the system. After that, you will return to Mars, where you will either resume your activities and earn a one-way ticket to Earth, probably to one of the irradiated zones, or spend the rest of your life in a Welfare Cube watching cheap holovids, eating algae twice a day. This way, you get your name back, your life back, and a chance to make something of yourself.” Moving to the door, she added, “Retired Guardsmen get preferential treatment in the civilian administration. Returning to a Supervisor’s position, or something higher, might not be out of the question.”
“And what about my beliefs? You’re asking me to sell my soul.”
“I’m not asking you to change your goals. Just how you seek to achieve them.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Shaking her head, Romanova replied, “This offer has a time limit. There is a ship leaving orbit tomorrow, Endurance, and she’s short a Shuttle Technician.” Sliding her tablet onto the table, she added, “Sign your name. Or not. It really doesn’t matter to me either way.”
“Of course it does,” DeSilva said. “I wasn’t born yesterday. You need me to take this offer.” Folding her arms, she said, “I’m guessing the man I brought down was working for the Coalition. That the woman I saved had some sort of intelligence he wanted. I know enough to help them find out a few little secrets, and the Mercury Mines have enough covert operatives running around that the Coalition would easily be able to grab me.”
“Maybe.”
“You couldn’t even make me disappear. If you want me as a scapegoat, that means publicity. A trial. And yet more opportunities for the Coalition to find out what happened. And if you kill me, you turn me into a martyr.” A smile crept across her face, and she said, “You’re every bit as trapped as I am.”
Frowning, Romanova replied, “I really wish we were on the same side. Very well. I’ll admit that you pose a problem, but not an insoluble one. What do you want?”
“You said you had some of my people. I want clemency for them. No trip to the Mines. Except for Harrison. I don’t care about him. The rest get cautions, warnings, and that’s all. That’s my price, Lieutenant, and consider yourself fortunate that you are getting a bargain.”
“Done,” Romanova said. At DeSilva’s expression, she said, “I’d rather assumed that you might ask for something along those lines. The paperwork is already filed. All of them will receive suitable pardons, though I have taken the precaution of splitting them up and spreading them across the planet. I think it best not to allow your associates to continue to, ah, associate.” She smiled at her own joke, and said, “I wish we were on the same side. You have a talent for negotiation. It’s a pity you decided to leave the Guard. Under other circumstances, I’d be requesting you as part of my team.” Rising to her feet, she added, “I perhaps didn’t mention that I will be serving on Endurance as well, as Security Officer. I will be watching you very closely, Spaceman, and if you show any sign of reneging on your deal, I will kill you myself. Without a second thought or a single tear. I hope I make myself clear.”
“I’ll do my duty, Lieutenant. You have my word on that.”
“I’ll settle for that.”
Overhead, a loudspeaker barked, “Attention, Attention. All Endurance enlisted personnel, report to Shuttle Dock One on the double. Transfer shuttle will take off in ten minutes. That is all.”
“I take it that’s my ride?”
Nodding, Romanova replied, “We’ll complete processing once we’re under way. Your personal items have been placed in storage for the duration of your enlistment, but there’s a bag up on the ship with some clothes, uniforms. All the equipment you are entitled to. I’m afraid you won’t have a chance to pack a bag until we get back. Assuming we do get back.” Rising to her feet, she walked to the door, and said, “I’ll leave you to find your own way. And for the record, if you decide not to come along after all, desertion is a capital crime, and every airlock here is guarded. By crack shots.”
“I’d expect nothing less from an officer in the Guard.”
With a final scowl, Romanova walked out of the room, leaving DeSilva alone. After a moment, she walked out into the corridor, the guard now departed, and for a moment contemplated attempting an escape, heading for an airlock and making for the nearest dome, ignoring Romanova’s warning. She had enough friends to hide for a long time, perhaps bury herself forever.
With a sigh, she dismissed those thoughts, instead heading for the nearest viewport, looking out over the endless desert, the red sands of her home stretching into infinity. A view she had known all her life. She’d left it once before, planning to invest a few years in building a better life for herself, perhaps for others. She tried to remember how she’d felt back then, excited and elated, ready to head out into a glorious adventure.
Now, all she felt was resignation, dread, and defeat. They’d won. They’d always won. Her attempt to make a difference had faded into mediocrity, her only achievement turning over a few names, bringing a few people to justice who at least nominally were on her side. And now she was leaving again, exiled from her homeland as surely as if a Magistrate had banished her to the mines.
“Attention!” a speaker barked. “Attention! All Endurance crewmen, report at once! Transit shuttle is departing in five minutes. That is all!”
“That is all,” she muttered, walking down the corridor. She saw a trio of technicians ahead of her, all of them chuckling and laughing, too young to know what they were truly getting into. If it came to that, neither did she. Lieutenant Romanova had promised her an interesting mission. That meant a more than usual risk of death in the cold expanse of space. She’d fought only one battle during her previous service, a brief skirmish against a Jovian blockade runner. That had been terrifying enough. Now she was going out again. Not for honor, or duty, or country. But at the point of a gun.
She took one last, long look at the desert outside. Somehow, she doubted that she’d ever see it again.
Chapter 5
Mitchell peered out of the viewport, sliding his hands across the screen to magnify the display, anxious to get his first look at Endurance. With a careful adjustment, he managed to focus his view, and caugh
t his ship dead center on the screen. She was smaller than most of the ships he’d commanded, but unlike those, almost the entire ship was inhabitable, a single ring surrounding a stubby central core, the heart of the ship, home of the drive units that would propel the ship in normal and hyperspace, as well as the weapons package, eight missile tubes aimed forward.
Endurance had the luxury of artificial gravity, the ship lazily rotating to approximate the gravity of the Martian surface, a series of thrusters periodically firing to correct the spin, compensating for shifting mass inside. He’d once watched a ship tear itself apart when those systems failed, watched a dozen friends die because of the incompetence of a single programmer.
The shuttle closed on its target, lining up to the passenger dock, one of the two hangars on the ring. He watched as the pilot smoothly guided his ship into position, sliding into the cradle of the elevator airlock with a light tap of the thrusters, the mechanism bursting into life to pull them inside the ship, a series of displays flashing green to alert those inside that it was safe to disembark.
He stepped out of the shuttle as the hatches slid open, walking onto the cramped hangar deck, a last cluster of enlisted personnel following. He glanced at the figures shuffling down the ramp, most of them appearing far from enthusiastic about boarding their ship. A tall, stout man with a beaming smile on his face, the twin stripes of a Petty Officer on his shoulders, walked towards him, followed by a man carrying Mitchell’s carryall.
“Good morning, Lieutenant.” He looked at the new crewmen, then said, “Form up, you bastards, and get into ranks. I’ll work out what to do with you later.” At Mitchell’s expression, he said, “The press gangs have been out again. Every ship and station for a million miles will have passed us the scum of the lower decks. We’ll beat them into shape quick enough.” He watched the last of them walking out of the shuttle, a slight woman, the only one not carrying any luggage, and added, “Get a move on! Christ, you’re one of mine, aren’t you? Shuttle Technician.”
“Spaceman DeSilva, Chief,” she replied, standing to attention.
“I don’t give a damn what your name is. As far as you are concerned, I am God. G-O-D. And that applies to the rest of you! None of you want to be here, and I don’t want any of you to be here, but the lords and masters in the Space Ministry have thrown us onto the same ship. Get used to the idea. If any of you step out of line by so much as a micrometer, I will personally march you out of the nearest airlock. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Chief,” the crowd said, shambling into formation.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Chief!” they yelled.
“Still lousy. We’ll work on that. You stand there for a minute while I work out what to do with you.” Gesturing for Mitchell to walk with him, he made his way to the elevator, and said, “Sorry about that, Lieutenant. I don’t have time to be nice.”
“How you run the deck gang is your business, not mine. So long as everything’s in good order, everything functioning properly.” Looking around the hangar, he said, “She’s showing her age a bit.”
“Nothing wrong with Endurance, sir. Nothing that a coat of paint and a bit of sweat won’t fix, anyway, and we’ve got enough people to see to that.” He paused, then said, “Oh, I’m Petty Officer Nguyen, sir.”
“Lieutenant Jack Mitchell. Navigation and Third Officer. Which means, by some reason I’ve never been able to work out, that I’m responsible for all of this. We’ll have to get together at some point once we get under way. How well do you know the ship?”
“I spent a couple of years with the Mothball Mechanics, sir. This was one of our babies, and we took good care of it. I won’t say there aren’t a few things to iron out, but Endurance will get you where you’re going, and she’ll do it with style. Better than any of those new ships they’re throwing out of the Phobos Yards. They cut too many corners these days for my liking.”
“Any others from the Mothball Fleet on board?”
“About a dozen, including the Chief Engineer. Ranjit Khatri. Good guy. Knows his stuff. You’ll like him. The stripped the maintenance gangs pretty thin to get this ship into the sky.” Shaking his head, he said, “Lot of involuntary recruits, though. Lot of new people. I don’t like it.”
“As long as we get where we’re going.”
Nodding, Nguyen said, “The Captain left word that he wants to see you as soon as possible. You’ve got time to go to your quarters first, though. I had your baggage left up there, and the Quartermaster arranged for your service kit to be dumped in with it.”
“Thanks, Chief, but I’d better pay my respects first. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Not for the moment, sir. I can arrange for your senior enlisted to come by your office later, if you want. Say in a couple of hours, before we get under way?”
Nodding, Marshall stepped into the elevator, and said, “Two hours, Chief. I’ll be there.” He tapped a control for the upper level, the Captain’s office, and the doors slid shut. He slid a hand across the wall panel, bringing up a ship status report, tapping through the departments one after another. Nguyen’s assessment seemed reasonable. Endurance had obviously been well-maintained during her time in cold storage, but the systems were old, antiquated, obsolete. A couple of generations behind the current state-of-the-art. Though still better than anything he was used to on the century-old freighters that prowled interstellar space.
The doors opened, and he walked down the corridor towards the Captain’s office, Lieutenant Fitzroy heading in the other direction, evidently having kept his appointment first. Fitzroy looked over Mitchell with barely disguised contempt, a sneer on his face as he passed him in the passage. Some of the Families wore their privileges lightly. Others chose to demonstrate them at every opportunity, and Fitzroy was obviously in the latter category. He paused outside the office and tapped the entry chime.
“Come in, Lieutenant,” Ikande said, and Mitchell stepped inside. The office was surprisingly cramped, barely large enough for two people to sit with a desk in between, the Crimson-and-Black flag of the Commonwealth of Mars hanging limply in one corner, an array of cacti lined up on the other wall, bathing under ultraviolet light.
“Reporting as ordered, sir,” Mitchell said.
“Have a seat, Lieutenant. I think we need to talk.” Glancing up at the wall clock, he said, “We’re scheduled to depart in twenty-seven hours, and I’m determined to meet that deadline. As is Admiral Forbin. She’s got the whole Logistics Corps preparing to get us away on time.”
“At least we’re getting the support we need, sir,” Mitchell replied, taking his seat.
Nodding, Ikande said, “I’ve looked over your record, Lieutenant. Both during your time in the Guard and after, in the merchant service. You did well at the Academy but chose to take a reserve commission at the first opportunity. I am curious about your reasons.” Sitting back in his chair, he added, “You can speak quite freely.”
“To be blunt, sir, I wanted to command my own ship, and it was made quite clear to me that unless I had the appropriate connections, that would not be a possibility in the Interplanetary Guard. My first commanding officer, when he granted me my commission, warned me that barring some unexpected circumstance, Lieutenant would be my rank for the rest of my career. Take Lieutenant Hoffmann, sir. He and I graduated from the Academy at about the same time, and he’s a twenty-year space veteran. By now he should be commanding his own ship. Certainly, he has the qualifications for it. Yet he’s never been offered even a chance at an independent command.”
“I’m not a member of the Fifty Families, Lieutenant.”
“Are you sure I can speak freely, sir?”
He cracked a smile, and said, “You’re about to cite my mother, aren’t you.”
“The last commander of the Jovian Space Fleet, before our annexation of Callisto, and interim Governor until the establishment of direct rule. I’m afraid you are simply proving my point, sir.”
“Are you suggesting that I only received promotion because of my political connections?”
“Only that, regardless of your fitness for command, you would not have received a posting such as this without the correct last name. And I note that you are still a Commander, not a Captain, and that this is not the type of assignment a fleet officer craves.”
Folding his hands together, Ikande said, “Only the smart ones. There are opportunities here, Lieutenant. I admit that the odds of us finding anything out there in the dark are remote, but if we do, then this crew will be responsible for the annexation of the Commonwealth’s first extrasolar colony. That should be worth more than a few points when promotions are considered.” He paused, then said, “There is something to what you say, I admit.”
“The universe is as it is, sir,” Mitchell replied. “I chose a different path, and I’ve spent most of the last decade commanding starships out on the frontier.”
Nodding, Ikande said, “Logging more command time than anyone else on this ship, myself included. And certainly, more time out in extrasolar space. I’ve never been out any further than Sirius, and most of the crew can’t even say that much. I didn’t request you, Lieutenant, but I’m very glad to have you along for the ride, and I intend to make good use of your experience during this mission. You’ve actually been to Epsilon Indi, I understand.”
“Once, eleven years ago, during the Détente. A ceremonial trade mission, really, just for public relations. There was no suggestion that it would ever go anywhere.”
“And your impressions of the system?”
“There’s just a small outpost, mostly research based, focused on the subsurface lifeforms on the first planet. Maybe thirty, forty people. A refueling station, as well, but nothing overtly military. We wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the place if there was. If we’re lucky, we might be able to sneak in without being detected.”
“We’re going to work on the assumption that we are unlucky. Which means battle drills, combat training. We’ll need to keep the crew occupied, in any case. It’s going to be a long enough trip just out to Epsilon Indi. Worse if we end up going further. Your experience of extended-duration flight will be valuable. I want you to get together with Lieutenant Hoffmann and come up with some sort of training and recreational program.” Raising a finger, he said, “Understand that I run a tight ship, though. Keep everything structured and supervised. Movie nights, chess tournaments, that sort of thing.”
Exiles of Earth: Rebellion Page 4
