Galactic Arena Box Set

by Dan Davis

  Colonel Mathieson pursed his lips. “A lot of that is conjecture. We really have no evidence for any of that. And does it really matter now that so many are dead? Things have changed, drastically. But I agree that the Marines in F Team did seem, in fact, to be capable enough, in practice.”

  Ram sighed. “What happened to them, sir? Were they killed in the final attack?”

  The colonel raised his eyebrows. “They all lived. In fact, I have a list of commendations from Captain Tseng on my desk that I have to process.” The colonel’s eyes glazed over as he read off his AugHud. “Fury, Flores, Harris, Cooper? Injuries, some of them severe, actually. But they will all be physically fit soon enough and if they pass the psychological tests then I’m sure some or all will return to active duty eventually.”

  “Did you say Captain Tseng?”

  Colonel Mathieson nodded. “Promoted. He performed admirably in the final defense. In fact, when our reinforcements arrived, Major Mdele ceded overall operational control to the lieutenant until the primary combat phase was over. Incredibly brave and confident decision by Major Mdele, wouldn’t you say? He should not have done that, he was under orders to take command. He had two captains and five lieutenants under him. But those are the kinds of decisions we need out here. Those kinds of leaders. Leaders like you, Ram.”

  Ram was not listening closely until the end. “Me?” The colonel had a tiny smile on his face. “Didn’t you just list reasons I’m not to be trusted?”

  “When you select for creativity, you also tend to choose people who have individualist approaches to the imposition of discipline. And that’s what happened on the Victory. That’s what happened on Arcadia. Now, if you had not done so, we would have lost Dr. Arthur and more importantly we would never have rescued your friend Red. Not only did you bring it out of there, you brought it back to the outpost. It repaid you in kind, saving you from the other one. But the intelligence value that Red had to offer was beyond anything we could have achieved without it. Since you have been unconscious, we have had a number of significant developments on the ground.”

  The colonel paused.

  What, you want me to tease it out of you or something?

  “Developments, sir?”

  Mathieson smiled. He looked like he was unused to the expression. “Speculation about the wheelhunter society and culture have been cleared up by Red. The wheelers do serve the giant warlocks. It is a two-tiered society. At least two tiers, I’m sure there are many gradations. Nevertheless, there are a small number of the warlocks, they are in control and they have all the power. Perhaps only a few thousand of them, we’re not sure. Red does not appear to know, or if he does, he is hiding it from us. There are billions of wheelers, however, and they have a rich and complex layered society with specialization and individual variation just as much as humanity has.”

  Dr. Fo cut in again. “We really do not know very much at this point but the general thrust of what the colonel is saying is likely accurate. Generally. We think.”

  The colonel rolled his eyes. “Anyway, they mostly do not consider themselves to be subjugated and nevertheless, there are some who feel different. It’s not clear if this is tribal, or a philosophical position, or if it is simply a reaction to the actions of the warlocks or the wheeler leaders. Your friend Red claims that it was a scientist or a doctor or something along those lines but it found itself experimented upon, its genetic structure altered in some way and these human eyes grown or grafted on him and his liberty was removed.”

  “We only have Red’s version of the story,” Dr. Fo said.

  Mathieson flicked him an angry look.

  Ram was tired. Why would they not let him sleep? He wanted to just close his eyes but the officer was going on and on.

  “After the defense of the outpost, we had killed hundreds of them but there were still hundreds left on the surface and underground in the lava tubes. The Navy wanted to hit them from orbit, obviously but we were going to send you boys in to clean them out of those tunnels. Interesting work, I’m sure you would agree. I’m curious, would you be interested in leading that mission?”

  “Sure,” Ram said, feeling light headed. “Why not.”

  “That’s the spirit, Lieutenant Seti. Well, you won’t have to, because Red got them to surrender to him.” Mathieson smirked. “Red went down there, to the surface, and talked the survivors out of their holes. We’re working with the translation devices to interrogate them all. It will take months. Years, perhaps. But we will attempt the same on the other inhabited planet in this system where the wheelers have another science outpost. If they resist, we will do it the hard way.” He pointed at Ram. “You may be recovered enough by then to do the job. But my point is that we have an ally now. Possibly, a whole faction of allies, depending on… many factors.”

  Ram licked his lips. “Congratulations, sir.”

  Mathieson sighed a huge sigh. “However.” He rubbed his eyes. “However. Twenty-six days ago, we had reports from UNOP HQ that something had happened back in the Sol System. Something entirely unexpected. Something unwelcome.”

  “Alright.” Ram closed his eyes, seeing swirling colors and shapes.

  “Ram, listen to me.” Mathieson raised his voice. “Another Orb appeared.”

  Ram snapped his eyes open, heart racing. “Sir?”

  “You heard me correctly, I’m afraid. Almost on the other side of the system to Orb Station Zero. One day it was not there and then it was, sending a signal to Earth to announce its arrival.”

  “Another Orb?” Ram said. “Like the last one?”

  Dr. Fo cut in. “It appears to be identical, from the outside at least.”

  “What does it mean?” Ram said, head spinning.

  Why? Why send another to us?

  “What this means for us is that the Sentinel will soon be heading home. Back to Earth. We will leave enough people here, along with the Ashoka and the Genghis to protect them and travel within this system. UNOP will keep sending more resources here to grow this planet, turn an outpost into a true colony. But we will be returning home and you will be coming with us. And so, I have an offer to make you.”

  Ram pursed his lips.

  The offer would be to return home, Ram knew. He had been told enough times that he only had value for propaganda purposes. Preparing him for the inevitable transfer away from anything interesting. They could parade him around at home. Maybe they would do a tour of the colonies first, if the planets lined up right. That might be pretty cool, Ram thought. Seeing Mars. Still, it felt like a useless existence.

  “An offer, sir?”

  The colonel cleared his throat. “You took a huge dose of radiation, son. You were hit by an alien weapon, something the warlock had. And at that point, you were without your armor on and the doctor here and the scientists, they’re not sure how those weapons work but the short-term effects disrupt the nervous system of wheelers and, incidentally, of humans. We suspect they are non-lethal weapons for use on the wheelhunters but they are not non-lethal for humans. Not in the medium- to long-term.”

  “I’m dying? From radiation poisoning?”

  “Well, yes. Yes, I am afraid you are. Radiation that we know wheelers are resistant to but also some kind of toxin that is damaging your nervous system. But we can fix all that. Eventually. The doctors will have to put you in a coma for a while until they can fix you. When you wake up, you will be as good as new.”

  “Better,” Dr. Fo said, ominously.

  “Sounds good,” Ram said. “But I’m not hearing an offer.”

  “I’d like you to keep doing what you do best,” Colonel Mathieson said. “Lead a small group of Marines against the enemies of humanity. You will be under my command when we get back to Earth. Sergeant Stirling requires the same treatment as you, so it makes sense to assign him to your unit. I have a few others in mind and your missions will be scouting, infiltration, search and rescue. Work hard and you might just have a long career in the Corps. Unconventional, Seti
. That’s what we need now. More than ever.”

  “Alright,” Ram said. “I mean, yes, sir. Sounds good, sir. But, sir? You said we are going back to Earth? The enemy is here.”

  “The biggest threat to humanity is now back in our own system. This new Orb. First, I should explain the nomenclature. Initially, they called it Orb Station Two because they thought calling it One would be confusing. That was, until it communicated with us. The Orb Builders told us what to expect. It is a new species. Not the wheelhunters, not the warlocks. A new civilization come to challenge us for the rights to our system. And that’s why they’re calling it Orb Station Alpha, to differentiate it further from the wheelhunter ones.”

  Oh, come on. A new threat.

  “Doesn’t seem fair,” Ram said, feeling himself drifting away. “At least we have three decades to prepare for it.”

  Mathieson looked very grave indeed. “Unfortunately, this new Orb has a different cycle. Not every thirty years. This time, we only have nine. Nine years from now, we send a champion to Orb Station Alpha. And the stakes are immediately as high as they can be. The Orb tells us that if we lose, we will be defending against this new enemy in our home system. And so, we must prepare. Step up our recruitment of military personnel, manufacture of arms and armor, vehicles and ships, install orbital and surface defense systems around all our inhabited planets and minor planets, all the asteroids and orbital platforms. Strategies will need to be drawn up. Humans taken off Earth, as many as we can every year, and sent to the asteroids, to the outer Sol System and here to the Cancri System and to Arcadia. But the Sentinel is needed back home and people like you are needed in case the worst happens.”

  Nine years. Two enemies. Two fronts.

  Ram closed his eyes. “Alright, sir. Sign me up, sir. Sign me up.”

  20.

  Admiral Goto Howe was not particularly impressive to look at. Dark hair, medium height and build. His flat stomach and square shoulders declared that he might be middle aged and confined to a ship but he remained dedicated to staying in shape. His upper-class English accent made him sound like anything but a warrior, especially when he was being polite. And polite he was, even going so far as pouring Kat a cup of tea from the tray on his desk and bringing it around to her.

  But for all his civility, there was an obvious core of steel to the man. A core of steel that came not from the projected knowledge of his reputation and service history, although Kat was sure that was part of it. The admiral was self-possessed to a degree that Kat had never seen before. Not in person, at least. With every movement and every word, it was clear the man owned his rank, his uniform, his quarters. Owned who he was, as a man and an officer.

  The admiral’s cabin on the Sentinel was relatively large, by Kat’s standards, but then Admiral Howe did not just sleep there, he conducted many of his duties from the office and the meeting space. There was never a time that the admiral was off-duty, and the rooms had more of a domestic feel than the kind of staterooms or wardrooms she was used to.

  She supposed she should feel intimidated by him. By his confidence and his power. Instead, Kat felt merely tired.

  All she wanted now was to do her duty when she had to do so and seek oblivion when she was not on watch. Oblivion in whatever form she could get. One day soon, she would be heading home. Back to the Sol System, back to Earth, and back to South Australia. Back where she could forget about UNOP and Arcadia and where she could be her own person again. Run her own business. Mind her own business. Already, she felt as though she was back there, with the baking sun on her skin and the smell of the dust and hot metallic paint of her light aircraft before taking off.

  Lightyears away but she knew her course and so was determined to not be overwhelmed by Admiral Goto Howe, living legend or not.

  Still, it was strange enough to be alone and seated in the presence of the God-like admiral, stranger still to be served tea by him.

  “Thank you for coming to see me,” the admiral said as he passed her cup and saucer, as if he was not the most senior and most powerful human outside of Mars orbit and as if she had had any choice. “I know how busy you have been, ferrying people between my ships, and between the ships and the surface, so I’m sure you would rather be enjoying some down time instead of stuck in here with me. I very much appreciate it.”

  Kat thanked him in return for the drink but did not know what to say in response to his familiarity. You’re welcome would be absurd and she could only play along so far. “Busy, yes but the transfers themselves are relaxing, sir. Not much work for me to do, now.”

  The admiral perched on the edge of his desk and took a sip of his own tea, obscuring the faint smile that appeared on his mouth. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes when he spoke. “I am quite sure you enjoy sitting in your cockpit, away from the squabbling civilians and my self-important officers. I bet they give you an awful time at either end of your journeys, no?” His smile grew when she did not argue with the point. “But I’ve heard how well you handle the civilians, despite their endless griping. And you will believe me when I tell you that I know exactly how you feel. In my case it is with certain chief scientists and engineers who will remain nameless and the useless diplomats who still seem to think the Navy is no more than their transport system. They expect us to do all the hard work and then step aside and allow them to make the decisions and take all the credit. There is not a day that goes by that I do not have a waiting list of supplicants and complainants, men and women who have spent their professional lives as the biggest fish in the pond and who have not yet realized that they are now in the open ocean. And they can’t stand the fact that I will be leaving a mere Navy Captain as the military governor of the colony. Of the system, in fact.” His eyes took on a faraway look, no doubt recalling with pleasure their protestations. “And many of them are jostling for access to the aliens. Many of the scientists have submitted requests for their investigations. Alien psychology, alien physiology, anthropology, technology. I have not yet decided how to proceed.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kat said, taking a sip of her tea. It was lukewarm and bitter.

  Over-brewed. Just like you, Kat.

  “Something wrong, Lieutenant?”

  “Oh, no, sir. It’s just that I have mixed feelings about bringing all those wheelers onboard the Sentinel. I know Red’s okay and we’re taking precautions but…”

  Admiral Howe inclined his head. “But you’re worried they’ll try to take over your shuttle in flight? That they will attempt to attack the fleet from the inside?”

  “I’m aware that we’ve planned for every eventuality, sir,” Kat said. “It’s just a long way back to Earth as it is, and with twenty-four of them rolling about the Sentinel it’s going to raise tensions just a bit more than anyone else realizes.”

  He spoke softly but precisely. “I see. You realize it but I do not, is that what you are suggesting?”

  Kat hesitated. But she had rarely hidden her feelings from anyone and she honestly did not care overly much what Admiral fucking Howe thought. Especially as she was getting out of UNOP just as soon as she got home to South Australia. She pictured herself, in a year or two, landing at the Melbourne Spaceport, transferring to Adelaide Airport. From there, home. She had nothing to lose by being honest.

  “Alright, I admit that I don’t know what you do or do not realize, sir. And I know the reasoning behind taking them onto the Sentinel. We only have his word to go on, so Red may or may not be a member of a wheeler rebel faction and he may be able to help us in our fight against the wheelhunters. And the wheeler survivors on the planet supposedly submitted to his authority, they supposedly gave themselves up to us. But the truth is that we understand bloody little about them. Even the way we talk about them, the words we use like rebel faction and surrender. What is their true understanding of those concepts? Those terms are so loaded with human culture that we can’t really separate out the wheeler meanings. You know, sir? Are all of the twenty-four survivors actually going t
o help us? Do they even know why they’re coming on board? It’s like you’ve invited a gorilla round to have a few beers and to watch the game, but he goes and rips your arm off at the shoulder. And you’re on the floor, bleeding out and you go, what the hell are you doing, mate? We were having a nice time, weren’t we? And he shrugs and says, what did you expect? I don’t know what sport is, or beer. I’m a bloody great silverback, ain’t I?”

  The admiral looked at her for a moment before standing and strolling back to his side of the desk. The man said not a word until he was reclining in his chair. He took a sip of tea, grimaced and put the cup on the desk.

  “A counter argument to your general thrust may be, perhaps, that the wheelers will be confined to a secure part of the ship. Access to said section will be extremely limited. Our guests will be tracked, monitored. None of them will get out or have any interactions that we do not wish them to have.”

  Kat leaned forward, putting her cup down on the desk. “I know that’s the plan, sir. But I also know it’s a big ship, there’s a lot of free thinking sodding geniuses on board and we don’t have an accurate idea what those aliens are truly capable of. And anyway, that’s not precisely my point, sir. Do I think they will break out? No, I don’t. But their presence will work away at the crew. Especially those of us who were on the planet. Even those who weren’t will have seen hours of video, heard the stories from the survivors.” She shrugged.