Exiles of Earth: Rebellion

by Richard Tongue

  “Khatri to DeSilva,” her communicator barked, the speaker echoing along the corridors. “We just picked up a power disruption down here. Section Thirty-Nine. You’re the closest technician, so…”

  “I’m on it, Chief. No systems damage, nothing to report, just an accident. I’ve isolated the appropriate systems, and I’ll run through a full maintenance cycle before I turn them back on.”

  “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “All systems are nominal, sir. Or they will be, soon.”

  “Very well, I’ll leave it to you. Keep me informed. Engineering out.”

  “How do you feel, sir?” she asked.

  “Hurts,” he replied. “Hurts like hell.”

  “Can you move?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  “Let’s get you to Sickbay,” she replied, looking around for the nearest hatch. “Take it nice and easy, sir. I’ll be with you all the way.”

  “No, no, I can manage,” he said, trying to get to his feet, before collapsing on the deck once more. He looked up at DeSilva, his face reddening, and continued, “Perhaps I might be able to use a little help, after all, Spaceman.”

  “All part of the service, sir,” she said, tugging an overhead hatch open. She climbed up into the corridor, then reached down for the young man, half-helping and half-dragging him to the deck above. “Midshipman Mizrahi isn’t it?”

  Nodding, he said, “Yes.” He grimaced, and said, “The recruiting officer never told me that serving on a ship would be this painful. That’s twice I’ve managed to embarrass myself.”

  Guiding him towards the elevator, she forced a smile, replying, “I won’t tell anyone, sir.”

  “Thank you, Spaceman. I appreciate that.” They stepped inside, and he entered an access code, the back of his hand an angry crimson. “If I have to miss a shift, it’ll play hell with my fitness report.”

  “You had an accident.”

  “I was careless.”

  She paused, trying to find a way past the reality that he was right, and asked, “May I speak freely?”

  “Might as well. I’ll probably be reduced to the ranks before long anyway.”

  “You made a mistake, sir, but it didn’t do any damage, and you haven’t sustained any permanent injuries. It’s an older system, one that they probably didn’t teach you about at the Academy, and you’ve learned to take greater care in future. Which is exactly what your tour as a Midshipman is all about.”

  “Tell that to my fellow cadet,” he replied, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Midshipman Diaz…”

  “Is one of the Fifty Families and has advantages you don’t. I’d rather serve with someone who’s willing to get his hands dirty and help out his crew than someone who sits back and lets everyone else do their work.” She paused, then said, “It’s a question of poise, sir. You’ve got to get the idea that you deserve to be wearing your uniform. Once you convince yourself, you’ll convince everyone else.” The doors opened onto Sickbay before he could reply, and she pulled him into the room, calling, “Doctor Singh?”

  A worryingly young, sandy-haired man turned from the only occupied bed, looking up from his examination, and asked, “Can I finish this, or is it urgent?”

  “I can wait a few minutes, Doctor,” Mizrahi replied.

  “See to the boy,” Lieutenant Mitchell said. “I’m off duty anyway, and it’s just a checkup.”

  Frowning, Singh replied, “It’s more than just a checkup, Lieutenant. I’ve never dealt with a case of hyperspace psychosis before, and I’d rather like to get it right. Your brain wave activity isn’t quite back to normal yet.” Tapping a control, he said, “I’m keeping you on the sertaradine for a little while longer. At least another week. And I expect you in here every day without fail.” Shaking his head, he said, “I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. Chief Khatri seems to think he can handle this on the run.”

  “He’s a busy man,” Mitchell said. Looking up at Mizrahi, he asked, “What happened?”

  “Caught an active power cable, sir. It’s not bad.”

  “Let me take a look at that,” Singh said, reaching for a medical scanner. “Looks like a nice second-degree burn. Bet it stings like hell.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir. I’m a Doctor, damn it.” He pulled out a tube, squirting some of the paste on Mizrahi’s hand, rubbing it over the burn. “That should start the healing process and kill the pain. Put on a glove, keep it on, and rub more of this gunk into place every four hours or so.” He passed the tube to the young man, and asked, “When are you off duty?”

  “In about half an hour.”

  “Then I don’t need to report this. Just do some paperwork or something until you go off watch, and you should be fit and fine tomorrow. Come back in the morning, though, and I’ll take another look at it. I don’t think there will be any scarring, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Cracking a smile, he added, “Though all the girls love a good scar, kid. We can get together and work out a good story if you want.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Mizrahi said, sliding a glove over his hand, wincing from the pain.

  “Anything wrong with you, Spaceman?” Mitchell asked.

  “No, sir, I was just helping the Midshipman. We were working together in an access tube, checking sensor systems.”

  “Find anything?”

  “A few that might have failed at some point in the next few months, but nothing conclusive. I changed them out, though, just to be on the safe side. It’s going to run our spare parts reserve down if we keep this up. We’re not really equipped for this. I’m holding onto the damaged units, in case we can repair them. It might be possible. Just time-consuming.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Mitchell said, “A technician who has worked out that our stores don’t hold an infinite supply of replacement components? You’ll go far, Spaceman.” Turning to Mizrahi, he added, “We’re wanted at the Captain’s Table tonight. He’s finally holding his formal introduction, and you’re expected. Full dress uniform, of course. Nineteen hundred.”

  “I’ll be there, sir,” he asked, growing pale. “Do you think…”

  Gesturing at the young man’s hand, Singh said, “He’ll understand. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I should be getting back to the crawlway,” DeSilva said. “By your leave?”

  “Dismissed, Spaceman, and thank you,” Mitchell replied, allowing her to retreat to the corridor. Outside, waiting for her, was Lieutenant Romanova, Spaceman Thakur standing next to her. The door to Sickbay slid shut, and DeSilva walked towards the pair, keeping her expression neutral.

  “How is he?” Romanova asked.

  “Just a slight burn. Nothing to worry about. He’ll be fine tomorrow morning.”

  Nodding, she replied, “That’s good to know. Nice of you to take such an interest in a young officer. I thought the advice you gave him in the elevator was pretty good.”

  Cracking a smile, DeSilva said, “I’m aware that you’ve got the internal sensors monitoring me, Lieutenant. I can only apologize for the dull life I’m leading on this ship.” Turning to Thakur, she added, “Are you the unlucky man tracking my every move?”

  “I’m glad you find this amusing, Spaceman. There’s a saboteur on this ship…”

  “A Coalition agent, almost certainly,” she said. “The Underground has no reason to target this vessel.”

  “We both know that isn’t the case.” Stepping towards her, Romanova continued, “I’ve already got more than enough grounds to place you in close confinement. Field Regulations give me almost unlimited latitude.” Glancing at Thakur, she added, “Though I’m not willing to take that step. Not yet. I have a question for you.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Would you do anything to put the ship and its crew at hazard?”

  “No.” She glanced at the door, then said, “Lieutenant, you are more familiar with my background than anyone else on this ship. I’ve always opposed the use of violence for
any reason. There are alternatives, better alternatives, than force.” She looked at Thakur again, a grim smile on the tall man’s face, and said, “I just wish the government would admit that.”

  “As strange as it sounds, Spaceman, I believe you. I know that there are agents on this ship. I just don’t know who they are, and for the moment, we have them contained. Rebels, Coalition infiltrators. Two sides of the same coin. I’m also painfully aware of my limitations. I don’t have the personnel or the equipment for the kind of crackdown I’d need to root them out, not until they make a mistake.” She paused, then said, “I’m aware of your, shall we say, conflicted loyalties.”

  “If you think that, then…”

  Taking another step forward, looking her straight in the eyes, Romanova said, “I’m going to make a choice, Spaceman. I’m going to trust you. By now, if there are rebels on board, they’ve contacted you. Our coverage of this ship is far from perfect. There are enough blind spots that you could have used for a meeting, and your duties give you legitimate reasons to poke around in them.”

  “Lieutenant, I can assure you that I have not, and will not…”

  Raising a hand, she said, “I don’t like being lied to, Spaceman, and that doesn’t make my sympathetic to your situation. While any rebel group on this ship is contenting itself with information-gathering, I’m willing to turn a blind eye.” Looking around, she said, “The last thing this crew needs right now is a loyalty purge, and there are officers on this ship who would be more than happy to institute one if they get a chance. If I think for a moment, though, that this ship and its crew are under serious hazard, I’ll throw everyone I suspect into the brig for the rest of the mission, and to hell with the consequences.”

  “I understand, ma’am.”

  “You’re going to have to decide which side you are on, Spaceman, and you’re going to have to make that decision soon. Just make a call you can live with. One that will let you sleep at night.” With a thin smile, she said, “I still would prefer that we were on the same side.”

  “I hope that we are, Lieutenant.”

  She abruptly turned, walking down the corridor, Thakur beside her, pausing at the elevator to add, “Intelligence sources have made it abundantly clear that most of the Underground is getting its funding from the Coalition. It’s almost certainly littered with their agents. I don’t think you are one of them, but if there is an underground cell on this ship, there will be a double agent hiding among them. Someone who would have no compunction about destroying Endurance with all hands if they thought it served the purposes of their government. Just something for you to think about, Spaceman. Something to consider, when you eventually get around to making your choice. The life of everyone on board this ship might depend on you making the right one.” She stepped into the elevator, Thakur behind her, leaving DeSilva alone in the corridor.

  Glancing at her watch, she headed for the nearest shaft, making her way back to her assigned crawlspace. She still had to make sure Mizrahi’s carelessness hadn’t caused any damage, and there were a couple of hundred sensors to check out. At this stage, the thought of hours of dull, repetitive work seemed just what she needed. Preferably without anyone looking over her shoulder.

  Her mind swirled with thoughts, with doubts. She’d known that the rebels were getting aid from the Coalition. Triton imposed a tyranny on its people far worse than that of the Fifty Families on Mars, but Harrison had made it clear that they needed the funding, the equipment, even the training. All of it would be worthwhile once the revolution arrived, once Mars was free once more. He’d spoken of the day when they could turn all that aid against their allies, to liberate the people of the Coalition, to bring about a universe where all humanity was free.

  It was a glorious, a magnificent dream. The cost was getting too high. Someone had sabotaged the hyperdrive, and while she liked to think that it was an enemy agent, she couldn’t be sure. If Romanova had hoped to plant the seed of suspicion in her mind, she had certainly succeeded. Now, she didn’t know who she could trust. Or even if she could trust herself.

  Chapter 10

  “I can’t get this damn button straight,” Thiou protested, struggling with the collar of her unfamiliar dress uniform. “Who the hell designed these things, anyway?”

  “A professional sadist,” Wagner replied. “You’ll find there are plenty of those in the Guard, especially working in the administrative grades. Don’t tug so hard. Ease it through. It’s meant to be tight.”

  “Buttons?” she said, finally forcing the last one into position. “These costumes are ludicrous.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me, but it’s the Captain who insisted that you all appear in your finery.” Stuffing a piece of bun into his mouth, he continued, “Me, I’d rather just relax here and watch an old movie, but then I’m not in the favored elite anymore.”

  Turning to the old man, she replied, “You’ve barely left this room in two weeks, except to sleep.”

  “I’m afraid the entertainments on this ship aren’t up to my usual standards.” Tapping his tablet, he said, “Besides, I’m having far too much fun going over the notes on these sleeper ships. No matter what we find, this is going to be exciting. I can’t wait to get there.” Glancing at the clock, he said, “Coming up on the half-way mark now. And if you aren’t careful, you’re going to be late.”

  “He’s not going to court-martial me.”

  “No, but you might end up crawling around the maintenance ducts like the rest of the crew. That’s another good reason for hiding out here. I don’t want anyone to get any bright ideas about my work roster. I’ve got enough to do anyway.” With a beaming smile, he said, “Go have fun. The Captain’s Table is about the nearest thing this ship has to a nightlife.”

  Throwing him a glare, she walked out of her cabin, making her way into the waiting elevator, a tall, perfectly attired woman wearing a smarter version of the same dress uniform holding it open with a wave of her hand, somehow making her displeasure with Thiou’s attire clear with a glare.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said. “Valentina Diaz. Weapons Officer.”

  “One of the Midshipmen,” Thiou replied, watching Diaz’s face redden. “Catherine Thiou. I’m afraid I’ve been sticking close to my cabin for the last couple of weeks. I didn’t have much warning before setting off on this mission.” Shaking her head, she said, “I can count the number of extrasolar archaeological digs on one hand and have fingers left over. We’re breaking new territory here, and I want to get it right.”

  Diaz looked at her, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Your right sleeve. You’ve missed a button.” Thiou looked down, and Diaz took her arm, adding, “Hold still for a moment. There’s a trick to it. Would you believe that they actually spent a whole day teaching us this at the Academy?” Her nimble fingers easily worked the recalcitrant buttons loose, fixing them into the correct holes.

  “Thanks,” Thiou said. “I can’t get used to these things.”

  “This uniform dates back more than a century. Traditions are important, Doctor. Sometimes, especially this far out, they’re all that hold us together.” Looking around the elevator, she said, “We’re a long way from home, seven light-years, and going further. Most Guard ships don’t go past Sirius.”

  “I think we’ll be going on after Epsilon Indi,” Thiou replied.

  “That’s for the Captain to decide.”

  “Yes, of course, but I don’t think we’re going to find what we’re looking for there. Everything I’ve seen suggests that this was a waystation, a refueling stop.” The doors slid open, and Fitzroy stepped inside, accompanied by another woman wearing Technical Officer’s uniform, the only person she’d see on this ship wearing makeup. Diaz glanced at Thiou, rolling her eyes at the new arrivals.

  “Doctor Thiou,” Fitzroy said. “At last you’ve decided to come and join the rest of us. We’ve missed you at the Officer’s Mess.” Looking at his companion, he said, “This is Technical Officer
Riley, my aide.”

  “My pleasure,” Thiou said, Riley only offering a curt nod in response. “As I was telling Midshipman Diaz, I’ve been preparing for our landing on Epsilon Indi B. Trying to go through all the records.”

  “I thought the whole point of this expedition was that we didn’t know what we were going to find,” Fitzroy replied. “Surely, we’ll have to work out the details as we go, anyway?”

  “Just like Schliemann at Troy,” Diaz said, Fitzroy nodding, missing the irony completely.

  “Exactly,” he added. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out when we get there.” Thiou and Diaz exchanged glances, and the doors slid open, Fitzroy leading the way into the Captain’s Mess, the room impeccably set, the rest of the officers already in their seats. The Captain’s Steward was standing by the door at parade rest, glancing at the new arrivals as they entered the room.

  “Lieutenant Charles Fitzroy, Midshipman Valentina Diaz, Technical Officer Catherine Thiou, Technical Officer Katrina Riley,” he announced, and Ikande walked forward to greet them.

  “Perfectly on time,” he said. “Luiz, you can serve the first course now. It should be nice and ready.” With a gleaming smile, he added, “Gazpacho soup. The tomatoes were picked this morning, first force crop from the hydroponic garden.” With a grimace, he continued, “They would taste far better if they’d had a chance to grow naturally, but we just didn’t have the time. Take your seats, please.”

  Thiou found herself sitting with Diaz on her left, Mizrahi on her right, and Mitchell opposite her, flashing a beaming smile as the steward brought in the chilled soup, placing a bowl in front of each guest in order of rank. Mizrahi looked uncertainly at his as it was placed before him, and Hoffman, sitting next to him, quietly leaned across, whispering something in the young man’s ear.

  “Someone always expects this to be hot,” Diaz quietly said, her voice soft enough not to carry.

  Tapping his spoon on his glass, Ikande raised his drink, and said, “I give the toast, to the glory of the Commonwealth.”