by Jim C. Hines
“I find it best to include ‘everything goes to hell’ as part of the plan.” Mops checked tactical on her visor. Thirty-six fighters were closing in from three different directions. She reopened the conversation with Sage. “Fleet Admiral, if we surrender, can you guarantee the safety of my crew?”
“No,” Sage said bluntly. “But I can promise they’ll live longer than they will if you attempt to reach Earth.”
Twelve of the fighters moved to cut off the shuttle. The rest continued in a flanking attack pattern toward the Pufferfish. Monroe dipped the shuttle into a deeper dive and said, “We’re out of time, sir.”
Mops watched the fighters swoop closer. “Do it.”
“Grom, on my mark,” Monroe shouted, one hand hovering over the button that would activate the code Cate had smuggled to them from Admiral Pachelbel. “Now!”
Mops held her breath. The Pufferfish veered sharply upward and to port. Monroe twisted the shuttle into a starboard turn the grav plates couldn’t compensate for, stomping her guts toward her hips.
The ships closing on the Pufferfish had kept to a precise formation until now. As the Pufferfish maneuvered away, cracks spread through that formation. Several fired A-guns and energy weapons. One lucky shot crackled over the rear of the ship, but it looked like the defensive grids dispersed most of the damage.
“Did it work?” Rubin was unnaturally calm, like she was discussing what her pet slug had eaten for dinner the night before.
As the Pufferfish slipped away, the remaining fighters turned toward the shuttle. “Yes and no,” said Mops. “Cate, why the hell can they still see us?”
“I don’t know,” Cate snapped. “Maybe your computer technician made a mistake when they copied Pachelbel’s code. Maybe there’s a mismatch with the shuttle’s beacon.”
Monroe increased speed and descent until the hull rattled. It wasn’t enough. Energy weapon fire engulfed the shuttle. Lights died, and internal gravity gave out. The shaking grew worse.
“Wolf, distribute grav vests now!” yelled Mops.
“All right!” whooped Wolf, almost drowning out Monroe’s muttered, “Aw, shit.”
Cate looked about, claws clutching his harness. “What are grav vests?”
Mops punched the release for her restraints and grabbed one of the clunky, metal-plated vests from Wolf. “How much do you know about grav plates?”
“There was a decade-long patent case when the technology first went into production,” said Cate.
Wolf rapped her knuckles on the black plate over her sternum. “Same principle, but in reverse. Once primed, the vests power on automatically when you come within twenty meters of any surface, countering local gravity to break your fall.”
“I do not understand,” Cate whispered, his wings shivering. Mops suspected he understood all too well, and was hoping to be proven wrong.
The shuttle jolted hard. A series of six-centimeter holes cut a line down the center. Wolf cursed and grabbed her shoulder, where the A-gun fire had burned through her uniform and a layer of skin.
Monroe shoved his way toward Cate, one hand on the ceiling for support. “Let me. The vests are designed for humans. If we don’t get it tight, you’ll squirt right out and splatter when you hit the ground.”
The bristles on Cate’s limbs stood straight up, a fear-response Mops had never seen in a Prodryan before.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights,” said Wolf. Rubin had scrunched Wolf’s sleeve together and was looping sealing tape around the joint to make a crude bandage.
The shuttle jerked again, slamming Mops against the wall hard enough to make her vision flash white.
Sage’s voice crackled over the shuttle’s comm. “That was your final warning shot.”
Monroe glanced at the holes in the shuttle. “Her translator needs to update its definition of ‘warning,’ too.”
“Doc, show me our projected course and target.” Mops’ visor switched to a view of Earth. A blue line showed their intended course, while a dotted green line illustrated their current path, a steeper arc that fell short of their destination. Not as bad as she’d feared, but not good.
“This is insane,” said Cate. “Even for human standards. The Alliance and EMC are held to strict standards in their treatment of prisoners. A foolish restriction, but if we surrender—”
“Make sure your suits are sealed,” Monroe shouted.
Mops had almost forgotten in the chaos. She tugged up her uniform collar and locked it to the bottom of her helmet, then grabbed her gloves. “Doc?”
“At this speed and altitude, you’re unlikely to burn up. I’ve advised Wolf to shelter Cate with her body, since Prodryan wings are more susceptible to the high heat and pressure. Also, the fighters have launched missiles.”
“Lead with the missiles next time,” snapped Mops, punching the emergency hatch release. The shuttle quaked harder as the door popped open and ripped away. “Go!”
With the exception of Monroe, none of them had trained for this kind of jump, but the incoming missiles added urgency and efficiency any veteran would have admired. Wolf seized the struggling Prodryan in a bear hug and hurled herself out, followed by Monroe and Rubin. Mops was the last to leap free.
The atmosphere hit her like a wall of wind and heat. Her body tumbled end over end. She brought her limbs in tight to her body, for fear that they’d be torn off.
The shuttle exploded behind her.
Mops’ visor darkened an instant before the flash. Doc had anticipated the explosion, but he couldn’t do anything to protect her from the shock wave. It felt like the Pufferfish had jumped onto her back. She tensed her muscles, trying to keep her blood flowing and hold on to consciousness.
“Don’t worry if you pass out,” said Doc, his voice tinny. “The vest was primed when you left the shuttle. It will deploy automatically. Assuming the explosion didn’t damage it.”
“You,” she said, her jaw clenched, “are an asshole.”
“Don’t get snippy with me. If your vest fails, I’ll shatter right along with you.”
“You’ve got backups on the Pufferfish. I don’t.”
“Your human limitations aren’t my fault!”
Mops tried to come up with a cutting response, but her body had other ideas. The throbbing increased, and the world turned black.
Admiral Pachelbel stood a short, subservient distance behind Fleet Admiral Sage and tried not to let her emotions show. She took a great deal of satisfaction from Sage’s frustration as she searched for the Pufferfish, but Pachelbel couldn’t stop replaying the shuttle explosion in her mind. Was sacrificing the shuttle part of Mops’ plan? Or had Pachelbel gotten Mops and her people killed? What if Advocate of Violence had betrayed them?
“It’s a cruiser-class ship crewed by semi-evolved monkeys,” Fleet Admiral Sage said quietly, her voice carrying like the predatorial song of their ancestors through the cold currents of home. “How in the icy depths can it simply disappear?”
Sage was surprisingly small, given her status. Her natural coloration was a mottling of orange and brown. All three tentacles were thick with muscle.
She stood erect on her lower limbs, towering over the two unfortunate Krakau scanning techs huddling together in War Cove One, the station’s central command nexus. All around her, weapons and tactical personnel worked without making so much as a ripple that might draw the Fleet Admiral’s attention.
One of the scanning techs turned to say, “Maybe they did a short-range A-ring jump?”
Sage slapped the tech’s head with a tentacle. “This close to the sun and its gravity? Without a trace of acceleration energy from the ring?”
“They must be jamming our sensors,” the other tech suggested.
Sage pointed to the console. “We’re picking up every one of our fighters, not to mention the debris from the Pufferfish’
s shuttle. That’s some very precise jamming.”
“What about some kind of cloaking technology?” asked the first, sinking a little lower.
“You think a team of human janitors developed and perfected technology that has eluded Alliance scientists for more than a century?” asked Sage.
“They also have a Glacidae,” Pachelbel pointed out.
“I am aware,” Sage said, grinding her beak as she spoke. She turned to her exec, a distant cousin she’d brought along when she took command of the station. Like other Krakau, she’d adopted a Human name based on old Earth songs. “Hollaback Girl, send security teams to inspect the station’s plumbing and air vents. Each team should be accompanied by someone from hygiene and sanitation. Adamopoulos could be attempting to sneak into the station.”
Pachelbel consciously slowed the dangerous tempo of her hearts. Sage was a power-hungry, paranoid pain in the anterior, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d studied Mops’ files, knew the kind of tactics the human preferred. “If they’re not cloaked, how did they disappear?”
Sage moved closer. “The most likely explanation is sabotage from within.”
“Would you like me to organize an inspection of our sensor systems?” asked Pachelbel.
“Hollaback will oversee the inspection,” Sage snapped. She’d suspected Pachelbel of aiding the Pufferfish from the moment she arrived on the station; so far, however, she’d been unable to prove anything.
“I heard about an old human power called hypnosis,” whispered the first scanning tech. “They could control your thoughts with pocket watches. Maybe they’re still out there, but making us think they disappeared.”
Sage spun and coiled one tentacle around each of them, squeezing their beaks shut. “Keep searching. Whatever those bottom-feeders did, I want to know how to counter it. Preferably before the Prodryans figure it out and bomb us back to the ice age. And get me everything you have on that shuttle’s course.”
“Before or after it exploded?” asked the second tech.
Pachelbel had always prized intelligence in her subordinates. Sage prioritized loyalty. Questions like that were the result.
“Before,” Sage said tightly. “I want to know where they were going.”
* * *
A LOW, OBNOXIOUS BEEPING dragged Mops awake. She spent several seconds trying to wake up from a falling nightmare before remembering she was in fact plummeting to Earth at—she checked her visor display—roughly two hundred kilometers per hour.
“They say soldiers should learn to sleep whenever they can,” said Doc. “Napping during freefall might be taking that to extremes.”
“How long until we hit the ground?”
“Eight minutes, depending on wind resistance. You’ve been falling for about ten.”
She twisted her head, searching for the rest of the team. Doc highlighted their locations. Monroe was almost a kilometer to the south, his body streamlined like a torpedo. Rubin had drifted eastward. Wolf and Cate were tumbling together half a kilometer below. She squinted at Wolf, and her visor magnified the view. Wolf was grinning like a maniac. Cate appeared to have fainted.
“According to uniform readings, everyone is alive and relatively uninjured. Wolf is overly excited, and close to hyperventilating.”
“Captain, are you all right?” Monroe’s words inside her sealed helmet made her jump.
“I think so.” She checked her uniform integrity readout to confirm there were no punctures. “What happened to those fighters?”
“They stayed upstairs, probably searching for the Pufferfish.”
Wolf’s voice crackled over the comm. “Did anyone bring a spare uniform?”
“I don’t think so,” said Mops. “Why?”
“Because this stupid Prodryan just woke up and peed on mine, that’s why!”
“It’s not urine,” Cate groaned. “It’s a secretion to dissuade predators, and it’s perfectly natural!”
“So is urine,” Rubin pointed out.
“How much did we lose with the shuttle?” asked Monroe, and the others fell silent.
With her helmet sealed, the sudden lack of sound was like being plunged into vacuum. “Long-range comms, extra ammo and supplies, and our way off planet.”
More silence, broken a moment later by Cate’s wind-whipped voice. “Did I hear that right? Even if we find this human we’re searching for, we can’t get them off-planet, and we have no way of calling for help?”
“Cut the chatter,” Mops ordered. Their personal communications units were short-range and low-power, unlikely to be picked up from orbit, but it was better to be safe. “We’re supposed to be debris from the shuttle. Try to act like it.”
She turned her attention to the planet below. Light from the rising sun painted an arc over the globe, separating day from night. Beneath white cotton wisps of cloud, much of the surface shone in the sun.
“Doc, record these images to my personal library, please,” she whispered.
Had she been born somewhere on the continent below? She would have grown up in the wild, like an animal. She’d probably lived in a pack, hiding in the woods or the hills or the ruins of a human city.
“I can magnify or enhance, if you’d like.”
“No, thank you.” She barely noticed the air hammering her body. Most of the planet was in shadow. She kept her attention on the arc where the sun peeled back the darkness. Sparks of light vanished before she could make them out. Bodies of water, maybe. Or bits of metal and glass, remnants that had survived a hundred and fifty years after humanity’s fall.
She took a deep breath, trying to imagine the smell of Earth’s air instead of the stale warmth of her suit’s supply. “Is there any way of knowing if the Pufferfish is safe?”
“You left Grom, Azure, and Kumar behind. ‘Safe’ isn’t the word I’d use. But I’ve picked up no additional weapons fire or explosions.”
It wasn’t like Mops could do anything to help them, regardless. They were on their own. “Doc, show me the library. Bring it up for everyone.”
A blinking icon appeared on her visor. She reopened a channel to the team. “That’s our target, people. The closer we can get while we’re falling, the shorter the hike once we’re on the ground.”
Somewhere down there, half a billion uncured humans shambled about, victims of an alien toxin turned viral. Half a billion ferals, and one scared human hiding from the Krakau and humans alike.
Mops angled her body toward the library. “Hang on,” she whispered. “We’re coming.”
* * *
Mops knew she was falling at a constant speed. That knowledge did nothing to counter the evidence of her eyes, which insisted the ground was accelerating toward her, faster and faster, the closer she came to impact.
Her visor enhanced the darkness below, trading color for contrast and detail. It made the overgrown ruins appear ghostly and unreal. Rusted beams stood like skeletons, many covered in thick vines. Snow and ice blanketed it all.
“Aim for whatever clearing you can reach,” Monroe called out. “Your vest will activate as soon as you’re within twenty meters of a significant mass. Pass too close to a tree or building, and it will go off prematurely.”
Mops scanned the ground, which was evenly split between trees and ruined buildings. She tilted her body, trying to steer toward the crumbled remains of an old road.
“Speaking of going off prematurely, did you hear the one about the Nusuran and the—” Wolf shrieked before she could finish her joke.
“Wolf’s vest has deployed,” said Doc.
“Good.” Mops was only seconds from the ground. She bent left, but didn’t get quite far enough from the brick and girders of an old, dilapidated tower.
Her vest powered up. The initial gravity push flung her away from the tower. She spun toward the ground, where the vest’s gravity-bending cushion
sent up an eruption of snow and dirt as it bounced her back into the air. She shot up a good thirty meters before coming down again, this time pinballing between trees before coming to rest.
“If you’re going to vomit, remove your helmet first.”
Mops’ eyes wouldn’t stop twitching. Her vest held her suspended one meter above the ground. She stretched her legs, her toes just brushing the snow. “How long—?”
“It will deactivate momentarily.”
She yanked one of the buckles. The vest’s safety mechanisms beeped in protest, refusing to unlatch while she was still in the air. While she waited to fall that final meter, she checked in with the rest of the team. One by one, they confirmed they were down safely.
“What about our guest?” asked Mops.
Wolf chuckled. “He fainted.”
“Not surprising,” said Monroe. “Deceleration in these things tops out around eight gees. Prodryans pass out at six.”
“He shot away from me when our vests activated,” Wolf continued. “It was funny as hell. Like two magnets repelling each other. I hope my visor caught the video. I’ll dig him out of the snow as soon as my vest sets me down and I stop seeing double.”
“Doc, show me everyone’s location.”
“They’re scattered over roughly two kilometers.” The locations popped up on her visor. “Calculating from the center point, we came down roughly twenty kilometers west of our target.”
With a sad beep, Mops’ vest dropped her face-first into the snow. She rolled onto her back, wiped off her visor, and stared into the star-speckled blackness.
“Are you all right, Mops?” asked Monroe. “I heard a grunt.”
“Just finishing my fall.” She licked her dry lips, swallowed, and sat up. Her limbs were numb. She’d been too tense for most of the drop. Everything had stiffened up. She flexed her arms, popping both shoulders, then stripped off the vest and adjusted her pack. “Rubin, you’re closest to the library. Sit tight, and the rest of us will come to you. Safeties off, people. Check in every five minutes, and at any sign of trouble.”
