A House United

by Caleb Wachter

  “You got it,” Fisher nodded, and the Mode responded to his deft touch by sliding silently through the void separating it and the nearest parcel. “Hello…” he muttered as the ship came to a relative stop beside the parcel, “looks like there’s someone alive in there.”

  “Who is it?” Lu Bu demanded.

  “Can’t say…but it looks like a woman,” Fish shrugged.

  “Do you detect anything dangerous?” she turned to Shiyuan.

  “Nothing,” Jarrett shook his head firmly. “There doesn’t seem to be anything there except a stripped-down escape pod and one human occupant. It’s possible the pod is trapped, of course, but I don’t see anything on my instruments to suggest such.”

  “Bring her aboard,” Lu Bu grunted as she made her way sternward from the cockpit. “And move to collect the others.”

  In the span of time it took her to walk to the stern of the sleek little ship, Fisher had nimbly maneuvered the Mode’s stern airlock up to the escape pod. As Lu Bu watched through the miniature viewing portal built into the airlock’s inner door, the outer door slid open a few seconds before the pod was gently set down on the airlock’s floor. The outer door closed immediately, and after re-pressurizing the airlock she opened the inner door.

  The pod was in pristine condition—hardly how it should have looked if it had been ejected during combat. She scanned the pod’s outer markings and found nothing helpful, and she closed the airlock’s inner door behind her before kneeling beside the pod and opening it.

  There was a brief hiss as the air pressure inside the pod equalized with that of the airlock, and when the lid came up Lu Bu could not stifle a gasp from passing her lips.

  “Chief Winters?” Fengxian asked with wide eyes as the Rainbow’s former Chief Engineer sat up. Then Lu Bu’s brow lowered thunderously, “Chief Winters is dead—who are you?”

  “It’s me, Lu,” the woman said, her voice exactly as Fengxian remembered it. But Lu Bu knew that there were myriad methods by which a person’s identity might be mimicked—or copied altogether, if some of Shiyuan’s horror stories about personality implants were true.

  “Chief Winters died,” Fengxian snarled, grabbing the other woman by the collar and forcibly wrenching her out of the pod.

  The woman’s eyes widened with fear and in that moment Lu Bu could not help but believe that this was, in fact, Penelope Winters. A team of Imperial Agents had infiltrated the Rainbow during the trek from the Spineward Sectors to the Empire of Man, and Chief Winters had been one of the crewmembers who the Imperials had uncannily replaced with a perfect double.

  The Winters impostor had been responsible for the devastation in the Rainbow’s medical bay—along with the death of the stalwart warrior, Bernice, who had shielded Captain McKnight from the worst of the blast when the Agent’s explosive device detonated.

  But Lu Bu knew that this could be yet another impostor—the Imps had done it once, after all. What would stop them from doing it again? And what would stop them from improving on their already devastatingly effective attempt to derail them from accomplishing their mission?

  “I don’t expect you to trust me, Lu,” the woman said tremulously as her resolve visibly hardened, “but I do need to relay some information to Captain McKnight.”

  “Information?” Lu repeated skeptically as she heard Shiyuan gasp from the other side of the cargo bay. “What kind of information?” she demanded.

  The woman-who-would-be-Penelope-Winters audibly gulped before continuing, “It’s about the mission. I don’t claim to know why she did it,” the woman continued, setting her jaw as she spoke, “but Senator Bellucci said she wants to support us in destroying Archie.”

  Lu Bu’s eyes narrowed as she considered the woman’s words. Thankfully, before she could arrive at a conclusion regarding whether or not to trust the potential impostor, Jarrett cleared his throat and said, “I think I can determine whether or not she is another impostor. Guo and I refined our detection methodology; all I need is the ship’s bio-scanner and an hour to hand-check the results and the equipment itself—to ensure it has not been tampered with,” he added pointedly.

  Lu considered his proposal for a moment and nodded, “Do it.”

  “I am as certain as possible that she is, in fact, Penelope Winters,” Shiyuan declared emphatically after a two hour review of the medical scanner’s findings.

  Lu Bu nodded agreeably, turning to Chief Winters and apologizing, “I mistreated you, Chief. I am sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Lu,” Winters shook her head firmly as she inclined her chin toward the other three escape pods which had been neatly lined up inside the Mode’s cargo bay, “but I think it’s time to bring them out too.”

  “Agreed,” Lu nodded, turning to Jarrett, “release and scan them individually; I will prepare quarters to hold them until your findings are verified.”

  “Will do,” Jarrett, aka Shiyuan, agreed before setting off for the pod with the least life support power remaining.

  “Chief Winters,” Lu gestured for Penelope to follow as she made her way to one of the closet-sized ‘quarters’ still available after picking up four of her five targeted ‘allies’ which included the egghead, a Senator, and two highly-placed bureaucrats with fringe claims to nobility—both of whom held positions that afforded them significant access to some of the Empire’s most secret information.

  “How many died?” Winters asked tightly just before Lu opened the hatch leading to the lone unoccupied berth left on the Mode.

  “Some, including Bernice,” Lu said neutrally before hesitantly meeting Penelope’s gaze, “But Tiberius survived. He is fine.”

  The look of relief on Winters’ face overwhelmed every other emotion for several seconds, but the young woman eventually regained her composure and nodded, “Good—I mean that’s terrible—”

  “I understood you,” Lu grunted as she opened the hatch, seeing a quartet of narrow bunks lining the walls of the cramped chamber.

  “What are you doing here on the Mode?” Winters asked. “Where’s the Rainbow?”

  “We are on special assignment,” Lu said guardedly, deigning to answer the question about the Rainbow. She felt bad about not answering her colleague’s question directly, but she was still on an assignment of the highest secrecy. And ultimately, the decision regarding how to reintegrate Chief Winters and the others into the mission was Captain McKnight’s to make.

  “I understand,” Winters said after a momentary silence. “I’ll stay in here with my people until Shiyuan clears all of us.”

  “That would be best,” Lu said graciously, hesitating before adding, “I am glad you survived, Chief. We thought you were dead.”

  “I think it would have been a lot simpler for Senator Bellucci to kill us,” Penelope said grimly. “I won’t even pretend to know why she returned us to you, but we weren’t mistreated while we were aboard her vessel. Still, why would she attack the Rainbow by replacing the four of us with infiltrators—whose mission was clearly to disable the Rainbow—and then, after that attack failed to stop us from continuing in our mission, turn around and try to signal that she might be an ally?”

  Lu Bu shook her head firmly, “Do not try to unwind the plots of snakes, Chief. That task should be left to other snakes.”

  Winters laughed, and it was a genuine relief to hear the Rainbow’s former Chief Engineer do so. Lu Bu had never been close with Winters, but she still felt the unbreakable bond that all brothers and sisters in uniform felt after taking fire together. The return of four of their own was something to be celebrated—but such merriment would have to come later.

  “I have a mission to complete, Chief,” Lu said, gesturing to the cramped quarters’ interior, “it is not much, but—“

  “But it’s a heckuva lot better than the inside of a single-occupancy escape pod,” Winters interrupted. “We’ll manage just fine, Lu. Thanks for picking us up. We’ll stay out of your way.”

  “I will have some
food brought,” Lu Bu said before returning to the cockpit where she gave Fisher the order to set course for their fifth—and final—stop on their itinerary.

  Chapter IX: Dissidents & Disagreements

  “Where’s Captain McKnight?” Tremblay asked in surprise after entering the CO’s office and finding Lieutenant Spalding behind her desk.

  “She’s doing another round of physical therapy,” Spalding replied, barely sparing a glance Tremblay’s way as he worked through a stack of data slates. “I’m helping clear up some of this clutter.”

  “It must be nice to finally find some utility,” Tremblay sneered, his antipathy for the elder Spalding bleeding over into his regard for this younger version.

  “If you were hoping to get a rise out of me,” Spalding deadpanned as he continued to tap away on the data slates arrayed before him, “you’re going to have to up your game, Lieutenant—oh wait,” he stopped in mock confusion, “that’s right, you’re not even an officer after resigning your commission five weeks ago.” His condescending gaze met and held Tremblay’s for several seconds before McKnight’s XO returned his attention to the stack of slates before him.

  The challenge had been issued, and it was against Tremblay’s base nature to let it go by without taking a good swing. So he chuckled hollowly and made his way to the chair seated opposite Spalding’s, “Truth be told, Lieutenant,” he infused the word with equal parts scorn and acknowledgment as he plopped down into the chair, “I’m surprised your name wasn’t on the list of resignations next to mine.”

  “We’ve been over this, Tremblay.”

  “We have indeed,” Tremblay agreed, “but you’ve still never satisfactorily answered my question.”

  Spalding’s eyes flitted up to meet Tremblay’s, and for the briefest moment Tremblay saw the elder Spalding in Tiberius’ visage. The hooded eyelids, the furrowed brow, and the painfully obvious grinding of gears behind his easy-to-read eyes were—for a brief instant—those of his father, and that moment nearly unnerved Tremblay enough for him to drop the little back-and-forth entirely.

  Thankfully, however, the moment passed and Spalding Jr. sat up in McKnight’s chair, “You want to know why I won’t turn my back on Parliament like you have?”

  “If a system betrays someone as severely as Parliament betrayed the two of us,” Tremblay gestured back and forth between them, “it seems to me that the betrayed party has no choice but to denounce them entirely.”

  “The MSP isn’t Parliament,” Tiberius reiterated, drawing a sharp snort from Tremblay.

  “Maybe it isn’t, maybe it is—today, at least, there’s some room for dispute on that matter,” Tremblay shook his head at the other man’s insufferable short-sightedness. “But can you honestly tell me you’re confident in predicting who will be in control of the MSP tomorrow, next week, or next year?”

  “Uncertainty is reason enough for you to abandon your duty?” Tiberius challenged smugly.

  “Who in this room has abandoned his duty?” Tremblay looked around theatrically. “From where I’m sitting, neither of us has abandoned his duty—but only one of us has recognized where he can do the most good, and the other…well…” he sank back into his chair, returning Tiberius’ smug look with one of his own.

  “It’s amazing to me,” Spalding sneered, “how someone can be so totally self-interested and yet so utterly short-sighted.”

  “Me?” Tremblay blurted in surprise. “You think I’m short-sighted?”

  “After this mission’s over, what will you do?” Spalding asked levelly. “Where will you go? You’re stuck in the beating heart of the Empire without so much as a pot to piss in, surrounded by enemies who—if they knew what you were up to—would descend on you like a swarm of hungry Bugs. Those few miles of rock between you and the surface,” he pointed to the ceiling, “won’t count for anything once they find out where you are and what you’re planning to do.”

  “This is an information game, Spalding,” Tremblay shook his head contemptuously. “If they find out what we’re up to,” he stressed their mutual involvement, “we’d be best-served by shutting down the environmental system and taking a long nap. It would give us a less painful and humiliating end than the inevitable alternatives.”

  Spalding set his jaw, “You really don’t get it, do you? This isn’t some sort of game, Tremblay—there are lives on the line, not least of which are the lives of the people on this moon. You know,” his lips peeled back bitterly, “your former crewmates.”

  “Just like your father,” Tremblay scoffed, “and here I thought you’d at least try to break free of the old man’s gravity well. But you’re obviously content to be dragged down into the same sanctimonious depths he’s plumbed so well for so long.”

  Tiberius’ eyes flared angrily, and for a second Tremblay thought he’d gained control of the argument. Then something unexpected happened: Spalding Jr.’s visage softened and he shook his head piteously, “You know…not too long ago I would have knocked your recently-repaired teeth back down your throat. But today? I’m going to take your attempted insult as a compliment.”

  Tremblay blinked in confusion, then sighed, “Maybe you aren’t so like your father after all. But you still have to accept the fact that you’re being used and you won’t even admit it to yourself. There is an opportunity here, Tiberius,” Tremblay leaned forward intently. “I would hate for you to miss your chance to seize it because you were blinded by loyalty to a group—and a system—which has made perfectly clear to you that you’re just a stick of meat waiting for its turn on the fire.”

  Spalding’s eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about, Tremblay?”

  The Intelligence Officer stood from the chair and shrugged with faux indifference, “What do you think I’m talking about?”

  “We’re military,” Spalding stood from behind the desk, his gaze unwavering, “we all know what that means since the day we first put on the uniform. Or maybe you never did—maybe that’s one of your many problems? So let me fill you in on something my old man once tried to get through my thick skull,” he leaned forward with his knuckles planted firmly on the desk, “as military, we don’t just stand up to tyranny and barbarism—we run toward it hoping someone else doesn’t beat us to the chance to put such evils down hard, fast, and eternal. We relish the chance to put our brand on the smoking ruin of everyone and everything that would destroy what we cherish. We’re warriors, Tremblay,” he shook his head contemptuously, “we don’t fear the fire—we are the blasted fire!”

  Tremblay shook his head at the other man’s thickheaded rant, “I was wrong…you are your father.”

  He turned on his heel and left the room, knowing that Spalding Jr. had just eliminated himself from Tremblay’s long-term plans. In truth, it wasn’t that great of a loss; Tremblay had already enlisted a significant cadre of supporters from within the mix of MSP and non-MSP personnel nominally under ‘Captain’ McKnight’s command.

  He had no intention of breaking formation until the primary mission—that of Archie’s absolute destruction—was completed. But after that, well…

  Tremblay allowed himself to chuckle as he made his way to the base’s medical facility as he contemplated the dominoes which would fall—dominoes which were, even now, being meticulously positioned by the often dunderheaded and apparently unwitting MSP crew—shortly after Archie’s destruction.

  “First we kill the Imps’ god,” he muttered, “and then the fun really begins.”

  He was going to have satisfaction for the Imps’ persistent meddling in the Spineward Sectors—and everywhere else their influence reached, for that matter.

  The only people who might be able to sniff out his plan were Jarrett, aka Shiyuan, and McKnight. He’d gone to McKnight’s office to gauge whether or not she had begun to piece things together regarding his long-term plans, but it seemed that with her physical therapy regimen her mind was on other matters—which was good for Tremblay and, in his estimation, for everyone.

&nbs
p; All he needed to do was buy himself a little time after they dealt with Archie. If he could do that, he was convinced that by using Lynch’s vast repository of information—a repository to which Tremblay alone had total access—he could shake the Empire at the most fundamental level.

  “It’s an information game, dummy,” Tremblay reiterated, silently cursing Spalding Jr.’s thickheaded intransigence. “I shouldn’t be surprised—I should be grateful,” he grunted as he came to the doors of the medical facility, “that the apple didn’t fall as far from the tree as I’d originally thought.”

  Schooling his features, he strode through the doors and quickly saw McKnight, drenched in sweat, as she worked through a clearly difficult regimen of physical therapy.

  We just need to buy a few hours, he reminded himself as he made eye contact with the MSP’s ranking officer. If I do this right, everyone gets everything they want. If I don’t…well, he smirked faintly as he crossed the last few meters separating them, the only one that gets hung out to dry is yours truly. You must be going soft, Raffy.

  “Tremblay,” McKnight said through gritted teeth as she took a painfully short step while gripping the therapy rails tightly with white-knuckled hands, “this isn’t the best time.”

  “I’ve got that report you were looking for,” he proffered a data slate containing the latest projections she had requested the day before. “Guo and I have the success rate up to 62% in the simulator. I’m confident we can push that up to 70% with more information on the target facility, which we’ll have by the time Lu’s in position.”

  “62%?” she repeated skeptically, activating the slender exoskeleton attached to her lower half and drawing a cleansing breath before accepting the slate and skimming through its contents. “You seemed to think the best you could get was 45% the last time we spoke.”

  “We got creative with our interpretation of the ‘acceptable collateral damage’ clause in your directive,” he said, knowing she would shoot him the disapproving gaze that she did, in fact, send his way. “If our interpretation doesn’t meet with your approval,” he blithely continued, “we can always throw away the extra chance to actually succeed at the mission we’ve flung ourselves halfway across the galaxy to accomplish. It’s up to you,” he finished, resisting the urge to snort derisively as he did so.