by M. R. Forbes
Not quite nothing.
"Shields at full," Millie said, her voice loud in his inner-ear. She had patched him directly into her own comm channel, giving him full access to everything that was happening on the bridge. She wanted him to hear what Command had to say, even if they weren't allowed to know he was on board.
"Shields up," Briggs said. "Forward compartment on G is breached."
"Damn it. It's a mess out here."
She gave him a display then, a view from beyond the cracked carbonate on the bridge. The entire area was littered with debris - bits and pieces of metal, textile, and flesh.
There were bodies out there. Dead bodies, of people dressed as though they had no idea they were about to be exposed to naked space. Some were well-dressed. Some were in uniform. Others had been caught with their pants down. There were a lot of them. Too many. Hundreds. They would float into the web of energy provided by the shields and be reduced to ash.
"What the hell..." Mitchell closed his eyes. It was hard to look at.
"I'm not picking up any readings from the area, Captain," Briggs said. "There's nothing larger than a person out here. No ships, no satellites."
"No ships?" Millie said. "Not one?"
"No, ma'am."
"What about the planet?"
"I'm receiving a communication, Captain."
"Put it on."
"Please," came the voice, deep and haunting and frantic. "If you can hear us. We've lost contact with the Sabertooth. We've lost contact with everyone. What's going on up there?"
There was silence while Mitchell waited for Millie to respond.
"Who is this?" Millie asked.
"Stanis Lem, President of the Dark Side Trading Company. Please, can you tell me what's happening out there?"
"This is Captain Alison Caine of the salvage vessel Pyrite," she replied. "Stanis, I don't know how to tell you this. There's nothing alive up here."
The pause was painful. Mitchell glanced over at Ilanka. He could just make out the tears in her eyes beyond her clear helmet.
"What? I... There were ships. Four ships. They appeared from the shadow of Gusav-3 two days ago. Our sensors picked up huge energy spikes, and then all of our near-surface electronics went out. Even the ones that are EMP shielded. We were lucky our generators survived, or we would all be dead. We just got a communications back online a few hours ago and we've been calling out. No one has answered. Not for me, not for anyone. Not until you."
The dark form of Caldera swung into Mitchell's view on the port side. It was an E-type planet, but only barely. It was dry and rocky, ninety percent mountains and crags, with only a small deposit of water and a small belt where rain would ever fall. It was there that the planet's only city rested, hidden among the dark spires of stone and ore, a bastion of safety for the lawless activity it sheltered. It was a planet known to the Federation, the Alliance, and the New Terrans. Most of the planets of the Rim were. It was allowed to exist because it served as a jump point for the starships who reached out into the galaxy beyond the Rim, searching for new worlds, new resources, anything that could make them rich. It was allowed to exist because it was a known quantity and, in the case of the Schism, it was needed to keep their true mission secret while providing supply.
"I don't know what to tell you, Stanis," Millie said. "We were coming to Caldera to trade. It seems you have nothing for us. We can pass a message along for you, for a price."
"Those are my people that are dead," Stanis screamed back through the comm. "A settlement ship with two thousand souls on board was about to go beyond the Rim when these ships appeared."
"Do you want me to weep for those I never knew?" Millie responded. Mitchell wondered how much of it was and act. "Your misfortune isn't my concern. Feeding my crew is."
"You cold bitch," Stanis said. "If my systems were online, I'd have already fired on you." There was silence, as Millie decided not to respond. "Damn you, Captain Caine. What's your price?"
"Fifty-thousand. I'm transmitting the account id now."
"Fifty? Maybe you aren't completely frozen. Information received. I'm making the transfer."
It was a lot of credit, but not nearly as much as she could have wrung from the desperate man. Then again, Mitchell had no idea if she intended to deliver his message or not.
"What's your message?"
"It's private."
"No, it isn't. I don't need you telling your parent corp to hire mercenaries to hunt me down. I didn't start working the Rim yesterday."
Stanis laughed across the channel. "Sending the transmission codes. The message is simple. Attacked, disabled. Send immediate assistance."
"That's all?"
"Yes."
"Very well. I'll be leaving the area in the next few hours. I'm going to scout the debris for anything of value first."
"What?" The anger returned to Stanis' voice.
"Your misfortune is my gain in more than one dimension," Millie said. There was a soft tone as she closed the communication with the planet. "Ensign Briggs, is there any sign of the drone out there?"
"No, Captain. I don't think it's arrived yet."
"It should be-"
Mitchell's helmet picked up a new ship. It was the only other one out there. It had a different color to it, purple instead of the typical red and green.
"And there it is," Millie finished.
"Receiving data," Ensign Sao said.
"Transmit across the secure channel."
A new tone alerted Mitchell to another communication signal opening up for him. The video of the stream filled into the front of his eye, slightly transparent so he could see the theater grid in front, and the hanger behind.
"Admiral Narayan," General Cornelius said. He was sitting in a large chair, one that looked as though it was located on a massive Navy battleship. "I trust you'll have good news to report. I've prepared your next mission briefing, which should be uploading to your databanks as I speak. I understand this last mission was difficult, and I expect this next to be more so. The truth is that the Council of Prime Ministers is beginning to question the value of a number of different special operations teams, and your designation is opening the door to a lot of difficult questions that I'm beginning to struggle to adequately respond to. The only way I can keep this project alive is to prove that your team is the absolute best and most efficient way of striking our enemies in secret. Even so, I expect that you'll need fresh meat aboard, and to that end, I've arranged for a ship to meet you with a stock of new recruits. Coordinates for the drop are also being provided. Cornelius out."
The screen went dark. Mitchell sat and watched the emptiness of the grid for a few seconds. The video feed returned.
Cornelius' face was close to the recorder, and he whispered into it. "Millie, I'm sorry to do this to you. I am. You know what the other option is, and I can't bear the thought of it. I'm doing all I can to keep this program running. I know you'll survive. You always-"
The stream dropped again, the connection closed. What was that about?
A new connection opened.
"Send the transmission we prepared, and add this message," Millie said. "Enemy has reached zone seven of the Outer Rim. Caldera left disabled, all ships in orbit destroyed. Assume enemy is moving into Alliance occupied space. Destination unknown. Four ships reported."
"Is that all, Captain?" Sao asked.
"That's all."
"Yes, ma'am."
The channel closed. Millie knocked on his p-rat directly.
"Mitchell. Please come and see me in my quarters immediately."
38
Mitchell was in Millie's quarters fifteen minutes later, sitting across from her in a small office adjacent to the living area. They were separated by a simple desk whose top was currently displaying a grid of the surrounding space, similar to what he had been receiving from his helmet.
She had waved him in when he arrived at the doorway, her eyes twitching beneath the data she was reviewing, no doubt
the orders they had received from Cornelius. He had taken his seat and remained silent until at last her eyes stopped moving, refocusing on him.
"Admiral-"
"Millie," she said. "We're alone, Mitch."
"Millie. What do you need?"
"I wanted to explain."
"You don't have to explain anything-"
She cut him off again. "Yes, I do. The message from General Cornelius-"
Mitchell put up his hand. "Permission to be frank, Millie?"
"Of course."
"Why me?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you opening secured channels for me? Why did you even let me hear that message? You didn't have to. I wouldn't have questioned it."
She leaned forward in her chair, putting her arms on the desk. The Schism was a blue spot between her elbows.
"I need you, Mitch. I've needed you for a long time."
Mitchell had always wanted a woman to say that to him. He'd pictured it a little differently. "Okay."
"You know the makeup of this crew. You don't belong here, Mitch. You're a straight shooter, a here-in-the-flesh white knight. If not the Battle for Liberty, than of over a hundred other missions and interdictions. I told the General that we picked you up. He was confused as hell about the body they found and how you wound up halfway across the galaxy, but he knew who you were. He told me to keep an eye on you, and if your story turned out to be straight..." She paused, the chill running between them both. "He's smart enough to keep his mouth shut on this one. When he finds out what happened at Calypso, and here-"
"He'll what?" Mitchell asked. "Send the troops out to meet them? Alliance battleships have nothing on that weapon."
"Nukes."
"Can slow them down. Maybe. You can't count on closing the distance and getting a few shots off, or some fighter squadrons up into their rear. You've seen what the S-17 is capable of, and that's a modification of an Alliance design."
"I hear you, Mitch," Millie said. "I agree with you. Which only proves my point. The people we have, they're the best of the best of the broken. You're just the best of the best, and the only person I've had on this boat in five years that I can trust."
"I'm not a hero," Mitchell said. "I survived because I was surrounded by the elite. I survived because of Ella." He paused. Talking about her always lowered his shield integrity. "What about Anderson? He seems loyal."
"He is loyal," Millie replied. "Almost too loyal. Do you know how many times I've had to forcefully throw him from this room, or the bridge? He sticks to me like a lovesick puppy. It has its uses, but it isn't all wine and roses. I told you earlier, you're the second highest ranking officer on this ship. I need you to be my XO. I need you to know what I know, hear what I hear, because you can. You're stuck like the rest of us, but you aren't damaged like the rest of us."
"I am damaged," Mitchell said. "Maybe not in the same way, but this life, this career; it takes as much as it gives. Probably more." Ella's face flashed through his mind, followed surprisingly by Major Arapo. Why her? "Besides, I'm a pilot."
"Who had tremendous aptitude scores, and could have been telling my father..." She paused, then pursed her lips. "General Cornelius what to do."
Mitchell stared at her. He knew from the message there was something between the two, and it was clear that Millie had wanted him to see it. She was showing him that she was going to trust him, whether he wanted her to or not.
"Is that what Project Black is about?" Mitchell asked. "Your father getting you out of harms way?"
The anger launched to her face in an instant. She somehow held it back. "Honestly? Only in part. The budgetary misappropriation was already underway before I came into the picture. It was just my luck to end up here."
"What happened?" Mitchell said. "A General's daughter? Murder? I know I'm not supposed to ask, but if you're going to trust me, I need to know I can trust you."
Millie shrunk back into the chair. In an instant, she turned from an angry, confident leader to a frightened young girl.
"It's hard to talk about," she said. "I can still see it all so clearly in my mind." She snapped out of whatever past had gripped her, shifting in the seat and regaining her composure. "I met a man during OTS. The man of my dreams. He was a star in the program, a tactical genius. We dated for a while, and I thought that I had met my future husband." Her smile was part snarl. "He did something to me one night, slipped me something. Then he wanted me to do... things... Not just for him, but for his buddies, too. After a few rounds of no, they decided they weren't going to give me a choice."
Mitchell felt his own jaw tense. "Millie, you don't need to tell me the rest, I-"
"No," she said. "You got me started, so now you're going to hear it through." A tear welled up in the corner of her eye. "I don't know how long it lasted. I don't really remember it. All I remember is the pain, and the violation. The drunk laughter. They gave me something that knocked me out, and I woke up alone in my bed, wearing my pjs like my world hadn't been torn apart. They were all top cadets, Riley was the top scorer in the entire program. I was going to go to the MPs to report it, but I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"They did something to my p-rat. They replaced the biometrics somehow. They were planning the whole thing. They were ready for me to say no. I don't even know if Riley ever really wanted me, or they were just looking for a target. It doesn't matter. Without evidence from the ARR, it didn't matter what my body said. I decided I wasn't going to let it break me. I decided to stay quiet."
She breathed out, a long sigh. The tear dropped from her eye onto her lap.
"I thought I was doing the right thing. I put all of my energy into my training. I excelled in the program, rose to the top of the rankings. I got my revenge by finishing at the head of the class." She laughed and shook her head. "It wasn't enough. The whole time I was just getting angrier and angrier. I wanted to let it go, to move on, but I couldn't. Not while those bastards were still breathing, still able to violate someone else. I didn't break the day they raped me. I only cracked, then. I broke two years after.
"The night before graduation, I tricked the clerk into thinking I had checked in my M-72 at the range. Instead, I carried it back to the barracks with me. Then I hunted them. Quick, dirty, silent. Each and every one. I saved Riley for last. I don't know what was driving me. It wasn't human, it wasn't logical. It felt... amazing. Freeing. Frightening. I found him in one of the simulators, doing a civilian. I opened the door, ready to shoot. Seeing him with a guy's head between his legs let that last inch of sanity sneak in just a little. I hesitated.
"He kicked him into me, knocked me down. The rifle discharged, and I must have hit the civilian because he was limp when he fell onto me. Riley jumped out of the simulator and knocked the rifle away. He had a boot knife. I got the guy off me and we fought. I'd been working hard, I was a better martial artist. I beat him in the end, but not before he did this." She raised the bionic hand. "He took my hand. I took everything. Then it was over. The MPs caught up to me and I was arrested. I might have been dead that night if I was anybody else's daughter."
"They got what they deserved," Mitchell said. He realized the story had caused him to clench the arms of his chair, and he forced himself to relax his hands.
"Yeah. Unfortunately, civilized society doesn't care much for vigilante justice." She laughed again. "Cornelius came to me in holding. He asked me why I did it. He believed me when I told him. He said he would find proof. I told him it didn't matter, and it didn't. Two wrongs don't make right. I don't regret what I did, except for the civilian. I'm still sorry he got caught in the crossfire. Anyway, he convinced the rest of Command that I was too valuable to waste. Project Black needed a leader, and my scores were top notch. Because of the circumstances of my actions, and his intervention, they decided to rank me as Admiral and assign me to the Schism. Now they're talking about shutting us down."
"How can they do that? What's to keep you from hiding
out here in the Rim?"
"The Schism has a kill switch, just like you do. Command loads the order to a drone, the drone meets us at a rendezvous, and the Schism self-destructs. Game over."
"Why not disable it?"
"You don't think we've tried? The trigger is a grain of sand in an ocean of alloy. We can't even find it."
"Don't make rendezvous."
"You don't think a rogue ship of highly-trained criminals would attract a lot of attention or a nice bounty for our destruction? We need supplies. We can't hide in empty space forever."
"So you just wait for the CPM to decide that they don't want you anymore, and then we all die? That doesn't sound like much of a plan."
"No, but it's all we've got. I've been on borrowed time since I fired the first shot. I'm fortunate to have had the chance to serve the Alliance."
Mitchell was certain he didn't agree with that perspective.
"What are the new orders?" he asked.
"The General was right about the difficulty, but these were sent before we encountered these travelers of yours. As soon as Command learns about the destruction, I have a feeling the mission parameters are going to change in a hurry. We have four days to get to the midpoint between the Polaris system and our current location. We'll be meeting an unmarked transport there to pick up some new crew members. I can only hope we have new orders waiting."
"What about Goliath?" Mitchell asked.
"There's a reason we aren't leaving for the meeting point right away. Luckily, Caldera's massive databanks are buried down deep with their generators. Singh has been working on getting access since we arrived here. She has four hours to get the data on the Goliath into our onboard storage, which is going to be a trick in itself. She needs to grab much, much more than we need in order to dilute the focus, but either way our friend Stanis is going to be wondering what we wanted the archive data for once he has his systems all up and running again."
