Exiles of Earth: Rebellion

by Richard Tongue

  Looking out of her viewport, Thiou could see the larger chunks of rock, slowly tumbling, still a dull red despite prolonged exposure to the utter cold of space. Those weren’t the problem. Anything large enough for her to see with the naked eye, the shuttle could dodge. It was the smaller meteors that would kill them. Next to her, Romanova had called up a sensor display, watching the swarms ahead, before shutting it down with the sweep of an arm.

  “No point dying all tensed up,” she replied. “It’s not as if we can do anything to make a damn bit of difference, anyway.” Turning to Thiou, she added, “Relax, Cat. The odds are still the same. We live, or we die. And it’s one death for every life anyway, no matter how hard we try and beat the Reaper. You might as well just settle back and enjoy it, as best you can.”

  “How did you get like that?” Thiou asked. “How did you get so used to looking death in the face?”

  A shadow seemed to pass in front of her eyes, and she replied, “Practice. Too damned much practice.” Forcing a smile, she added, “Maybe I’ll tell you about it some time.” The shuttle dived to the side, hard enough to throw them against their restraints, and she added, “Assuming I get the chance.”

  A louder report echoed from the hull, the engines rising in intensity. Thiou realized what Mizrahi had done. He couldn’t dodge the incoming swarm, not with the mass building up, the density of the tumbling rocks growing heavier by the second. All he could do was point his nose at the sky and fire his engines as hard as he could, hoping that he might be able to outrun them. The rattling on the meteor bumper grew louder, sirens warning of microfractures spilling air from a thousand pin-prick leaks, but somehow, despite everything, the shuttle continued to rise.

  Finally, mercifully, the rattle began to subside, the shuttle finally rising above the worst of the damage. Looking down at the surface below, Thiou could see the first wave of large impactors pounding into the surface, flashes of light gouging out new craters, changing the surface of the planet forever. She’d read of the horror the Lunar colonists had felt, watching Earth destroy itself during the Last World War, watching the missiles rise into the sky before descending on their targets. Now she’d had a glimpse of that sort of horror, that level of destruction, making her sick to her soul.

  “Endurance!” Thakur said, pointing at an object on the viewscreen. “I think we’re going to make it.” Sliding his hand across the viewscreen to bring up a damage report, he shook his head, and said, “Damn, they build these things tough.”

  Peering over his shoulder, Romanova replied, “I think they’re going to have to write this one off, though. No chance we can fix all that damage with the ship’s equipment. Right now, we’re flying in a spare parts repository.”

  “Coming in for docking,” Mizrahi said. “I’m going to have to play her up on the thrusters. I don’t want to risk the cradle.”

  “Midshipman,” Romanova replied, “You are the craziest pilot I’ve ever flown with. Consider that a complement. Next time, though, I think I’ll walk.”

  The shuttle slowly drifted into position, the hatch opening above them, and with a quick pulse on the lateral jets, Mizrahi guided his ship through the elevator airlock, the mechanism engaging to cycle them up to the hangar deck. A loud hiss filled the air as the atmosphere flooded in, easily audible through the cracks in the battered hull. The sirens finally failed, not for lack of damage to report, but a final overload in the power grid, leaving the shuttle a dead hulk, sitting on the deck, the airlock opening automatically as the last act of the control systems. Romanova stepped out of the shuttle, the deck gang applauding as they emerged, Mizrahi struggling from the cockpit as Chief Nguyen looked critically over the lines, shaking his head in mock disgust.

  “Sorry, Midshipman, but I don’t think you’ll be getting your deposit back.”

  Before he could reply, the crewmen snapped to attention as Captain Ikande walked onto the deck, making his way to the shuttle. He stepped up to Mizrahi, nodded in approval, then looked across at Thiou.

  “I’m sorry we had to cut your trip to the surface short, Doctor, but at least we’ve made sure that the Coalition didn’t pass anything they learned back home. If there are any other leads…”

  Pulling a worn piece of paper from her pocket, Thiou replied, “That won’t be necessary, Captain. We got what we came for. I know where we’re going.”

  Chapter 17

  DeSilva looked at the door, her eyes scanning for any sign of weakness, any way out. Her cell was featureless, barren, empty. Not even a clock to tell the time. As far as she knew, she might have been there for hours, or days. A part of her wondered if she’d been forgotten, if Fitzroy had decided to simply leave her to rot alone for the rest of her life. Whatever remained of it.

  She’d done the right thing. She’d done the only thing, and she’d saved the ship in the process. She could still see Hoffman every time she closed her eyes, but she knew that he’d have agreed with her if he had lived, that she would have expected someone else to make the same decision, even if she had been the one locked in the turret. That changed nothing. She had killed a man, as surely as if she had pulled out a pistol and shot him in the heart. Maybe she should pay for that.

  There was a rattle, and the door slid open, a trio of figures standing in the bright light, two of them tall, burly, carrying rifles, the other slender and slight. Romanova, Thakur, Gurung. The heart of Endurance’s Security detail. Romanova stepped forward, giving a muttered order to Thakur, and the door slid shut again behind her. Slowly, warily, DeSilva rose to her feet, looking Romanova square in the eyes.

  “Are you here to execute the sentence?” she asked. “Because if you are, I’d really rather get it over with than waste time talking about it. Lieutenant Fitzroy…”

  “Does not speak for the Captain, and he certainly doesn’t speak to me,” she replied. “I’ve looked over the surveillance records, the after-action reports. I’d like your version of the story, though.” Raising a hand, she added, “And to answer the question you haven’t asked yet, we not only won the battle, but destroyed the enemy ship in the process. There were four casualties aside from Lieutenant Hoffman, none of them fatal.”

  “Thank you for that, Lieutenant,” DeSilva replied. “I received a signal from the bridge that Turret Nine was disabled and headed right down to deal with it. I wasn’t the closest damage control technician, but nobody else replied. As soon as I reached the deck, I realized that someone had knocked out the communications system. Nobody down there would be able to respond. Lieutenant Hoffman came with me, leaving Auxiliary Control to Midshipman Mizrahi. He stated that he thought the control systems had failed, and that they would need a senior officer’s passwords to activate.”

  Nodding, she said, “And going down to Turret Nine was his decision.”

  “Yes. When we got there, we found that the damage was worse than we had feared. Someone had smashed the control circuits, well beyond anything we could repair in the time we had, as well as locking out the targeting systems. Lieutenant Hoffman stayed behind to try and patch together what he could and sent me to Turret Eight to try and set up a slave control system.”

  “And that was his idea?”

  “No, ma’am, it was mine, but he agreed without hesitation.”

  “When you got to Turret Eight…”

  “That had problems as well. The control linkages to the bridge had all been disabled. I could activate the systems to command them from any of the turrets, but I couldn’t restore the data link. Again, it had been physically severed. Someone did a hell of a job on them. I managed to slave all the turrets to my own, including Nine, but it was obvious that no matter what Lieutenant Hoffman could do, it was on the verge of failure. We had incoming missiles. There wasn’t time to do anything else, no time at all.” She paused, took a deep breath, and continued, “The Coalition ship was trying to take out the turrets.”

  “Based on your interpretation of the data.”

  “I had no formal training in
this, not really. Just as a shuttle gunner, and that was years ago. I had to go with my instincts, and that turned out to be correct. I only had seconds to make the decision. Either one of the fully functioning turrets, or the one that was on the verge of failure.” She looked down at the deck, and continued, “I didn’t even have a chance to warn him. Not with the communications system disabled. There just wasn’t time.”

  Romanova walked over to the far side of the room, and said, “You saved the ship. That’s not just my assumption either. That’s the result of the tactical analysis. You did want anyone else should have done, though I certainly don’t envy you decision.” Turning back to her, she continued, “Lieutenant Fitzroy wants you dead. I’m surprised, I didn’t think he and Lieutenant Hoffman were that close, but he apparently believes that you are responsible for all the troubles that have taken place down here. I don’t think it’s anything ideological. Just his failed attempt at criminology.”

  “And you, Lieutenant? What do you think?”

  “I think you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or, depending on your point of view, in the right place at the right time.” She shrugged, and replied, “That’s not for me to judge. All I can say is that my official recommendation will be that you are released immediately, all charges dropped. I don’t know what the Captain will do.” Rubbing her chin, she continued, “Right now, we’ve got bigger problems.”

  “You were right,” DeSilva replied. “Someone is trying to sabotage the ship, almost certainly working for the Coalition, and it’s almost certain that that person is one of the rebels.” She looked up, and said, “Do you realize how hard this is? I’m having to throw away everything I believe in…”

  “Then you are a fool,” Romanova snapped. “Nobody is asking you to change your mind about the inadequacies of our current system of government. Your very presence in this cell is proof enough that you just might have a point. That’s not what is under discussion here. Somebody has sold out to the Coalition, and I need to know who.” She paused, then said, “You’ve been in contact with the Underground. I know that much. What’s their plan?”

  “Pretty much as you said. To watch and wait. I was told that if there was no sign of a colony, they’d just let the mission happen, but if one was found, they’d be ready to organize protests, demonstrations, once we got back to Mars. With the goal of preventing a second Callisto. I was assured that they’d limit themselves to non-violent activity.”

  “And you believed them, even after what happened to the hyperdrive?”

  Shaking her head, DeSilva replied, “That would have been a major inconvenience, but it was never going to destroy the ship. If we’d been forced back into normal space, we’d have spent weeks putting the pieces back together again, but we’d have made it back to Mars without too much trouble. Or maybe even continued our mission, with a delay.”

  “Giving the Coalition a head-start that they could have made good use of. Did you think about that?”

  “Not at the time, no.” Looking up again, she said, “I had no part in that, Lieutenant. None at all. I would have passed information to the rebels. I agree with them. What happened on Callisto shouldn’t happen again. We enslaved an entire population, worse than anything the Families have done on Mars, and you’re going to do that to this colony, no matter how you cover it with diplomatic language.”

  “You think the Coalition would treat them any better?” Romanova asked. “They’d strip the place bare, bring in their own people. Captain Ikande is living proof…”

  “That treachery was rewarded. His mother sold out her people, Lieutenant. Though the Captain only got two pieces of silver. One on each shoulder. And a few other prominent families, but Callisto was a democracy, the last free world in human space. That we knew of. This colony we’re reaching for, this new world, just might be another, and I don’t think it fair in the slightest to condemn it out of hand!”

  Taking a deep breath, Romanova replied, “We don’t know enough to make any sort of judgment at this time. We don’t even know if this colony exists at all. It might have been wiped out decades ago, might be a worse sort of tyranny than even the Coalition.” Stepping forward, she said, “I need to know what side you are on. And I need you to understand what that choice means.”

  Stepping forward herself, close enough that she could feel Romanova’s breath on her face, she replied, “I know where my loyalties lie. This ship and its crew. I have never, will never accept that murder and terrorism are the only ways to bring about the revolution I am seeking. Unless they are perpetuated by the Families, and so far, their hands are far bloodier than ours.”

  “Save the speech…”

  “I’m not done yet. I will help you catch the traitor. There is something to what you say. The Coalition would likely be far worse than the Tyranny…”

  “The Commonwealth.”

  “Nobody on the streets calls it that. We might as well be honest about it. Let’s go ahead and use the real name. The Tyranny of Mars. I was content to wait and see, until we reached the colony. Because you’re right. We don’t know a damn thing. We might find a couple of dozen savages poking around the ruins of a dome cluster, or we might, we just might find a world that’s able to meet both the Tyranny and the Coalition head-on. Have you thought about that?”

  Nodding, Romanova replied, “The thought had occurred to it. It seems somewhat unlikely, but…”

  “They’ve had centuries, Lieutenant, and Triton didn’t have much more to work with when it began.” Cracking a smile, DeSilva replied, “Wouldn’t it be ironic if we were conquered by the people we set out to enslave?”

  “We need to catch the traitor,” Romanova said. “There are far too many ways for this ship to be destroyed by a skilled technician. Usually, we make sure that everyone is properly screened. There simply wasn’t time before we headed out. So, I’ll ask you again, and this time I want a simple answer. Will you help me catch the saboteur, before anyone else is killed, or the ship itself is wrecked beyond repair?”

  “Yes.”

  A smile crossed Romanova’s lips, and she replied, “Fine. Now, let’s talk…”

  “I haven’t finished. I’m not a traitor either, Lieutenant, and I will not betray the Underground. I won’t hand over the leaders of this ship’s cell for interrogation. They’re good people, with one obvious exception, and I completely support what they are doing. I’ll be the first one to protest when we return home to gather an invasion fleet. Because that’s the next step, isn’t it, as soon as Endurance gets home.”

  “Probably.” Her eyes narrowed, and she asked, “If you’re not going to give me the information I need, then what exactly do you propose to do?”

  “Catch the saboteur.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Romanova replied, “By yourself, with no assistance from Ship’s Security? Do you actually think for a moment…”

  “I don’t think that you have any other choice. You don’t have any worthwhile leads, or you wouldn’t be here talking to me.” She smiled, and said, “This makes sense, anyway. If we do this my way, then we have two tries to find them. You can continue your investigation, and I can launch my own, independently. If I find the saboteur, I’ll give you all my evidence and you can decide what to do from there, but I will not betray good people if there is no need.”

  Frowning, she said, “You’re giving me a very, very good reason to move to interrogation.”

  “Do that, and I’m useless to you. I don’t know all the members of the local cell anyway. They kept me out of the loop, and I went along with that. I can use this imprisonment as a means to an end, to work myself in deeper, get more involved. Somewhere in the underground network is the person we’re looking for.”

  “Of course,” Romanova replied, “I can consider one other possibility. You might be the saboteur.”

  “Perhaps you are,” she said. “After all, you were the one responsible for forcing me on this mission. And if I was working for the Coalition, I’d have help
ed them capture Doctor Thiou. Without her, we wouldn’t be out here anyway.” Her smile grew, and she added, “You might have to get used to the idea that I’m the only one you can truly trust.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I have my doubts about that.” She walked to the far side of the room, then said, “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Not if you want the best chance of catching the saboteur. And I want your guarantee that when all of this is over, I’m released from my military service contract, right back into civilian life.”

  “The Underground will kill you if you betray one of their own.”

  “Not if I expose a nest of traitors hiding within the organization. It won’t do the movement any harm at all to publicly sterilize it of Coalition infiltrators.” Stepping towards her, she said, “Or you could leave me locked in here for the rest of the voyage. Which will doubtless lead to further problems. I wonder how many people on the lower decks are whispering about my incarceration right now.”

  “I don’t like being threatened.”

  “Damn it, I’m not threatening you, I’m trying to warn you! My being here as a good chance of precipitating the very trouble you’re hoping to prevent, and you know it! Do you really think this helps?”

  “No, of course not,” she said. “Fitzroy’s a fool, but he’s a well-connected one. He’ll be gunning for you as well, you know. Both he and likely the saboteur. And if you follow the course you suggest, I won’t be able to protect you. Not without blowing your cover completely.”

  “I understand. Will you do it?”

  She walked to the door, the hatch sliding open as she approached, and said, “I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know what I decide after I talk to the Captain.”