by M. R. Forbes
She was the genetic twin to Katherine, a configuration made by Origin to hide himself through the course of time. From what Mitchell had learned of Katherine, from what he had experienced with Christine, he knew they shared a personality. What else would be the same, especially with what he knew now? Katherine Asher was lost to him, never to be more than a ghost, no matter what recursion had once drawn them together, or what catastrophe had pulled them apart. Would Christine be a suitable substitute?
Mitchell laid down on the mattress and closed his eyes. No. Christine Arapo was a Tetron. Just because she didn't know it didn't mean it wasn't so. He couldn't trust her any more completely than he did Origin, regardless of whatever history he had with her predecessor.
He forced the thoughts of her from his mind, working to calm himself. He had told Alvarez he would be asleep in a minute once he stopped to rest. Now he found sleep was easier said than done. Thoughts of the past were a raging current. Thoughts of the future a waterfall. He struggled to keep from being dragged over the edge.
A tone sounded in his p-rat, throwing him a rope and saving him from himself.
"Colonel Williams," Origin said. "Do you have a moment?"
He opened his eyes. He wasn't going to sleep anyway. "What is it?"
"Please come to the bridge."
"Is there a problem?"
"Please come to the bridge."
Mitchell sighed, slipping off the mattress and stretching his limbs. Even though he hadn't slept, just laying down for a while had seemed to give him a little bit of energy back. "Okay, I'm on my way."
The first thing Mitchell noticed when he reached the bridge was that half of the task stations had been removed and the other half were in process, with missing pieces and loose wires making them appear as if they had been shot. It was a direct reflection of the Goliath's new purpose. They didn't need the ancient tech to fly the ship, and clearing the obstructive metal from the three-sixty view of the outer space was intended to help Mitchell with threat assessment and theater monitoring. A translucent web of shimmering grid lines overlaying the blankness of hyperspace reinforced the modification.
The second thing he noticed was that Origin was standing next to the command chair.
Millie was sitting in it.
The needle-pointed tentacle that Mitchell had accepted to defeat the first Tetron dangled behind her head.
"Mitch," Millie said, turning to look at him. "He won't do it."
"Origin," Mitchell said again. "I-"
"I allowed you to integrate, Mitchell. You, whose fate is tied directly to that of the Tetron, and of humankind. Not this one."
"This one?" Millie said. "I am the Commanding Officer on this ship."
"I am not a member of your military, Mildred Narayan. I have accommodated your ruse because I understand and agree with the need for it. I do not take orders from you."
"What about from me?" Mitchell asked.
"My intention is to assist you in defeating the Tetron. That is my goal, and all that I desire. I will follow your command to that end."
"Even if I order you to take orders from the Admiral?"
Origin chuckled. "When it suits the cause, I am more than happy to comply. Please understand, both of you. The integration process is painful for you. It is many times more painful for me. The human mind is an impressive thing. It is also primitive, a bottleneck in a system that has been optimized over hundreds of thousands of years. While this state is cause for man's greatest strength, it creates inefficiencies in my operations. Each integration will further weaken me."
"You've been debriefed on every planning meeting we've had," Millie said. "Mitchell needs to go down with the landing team."
"Yes, I understand that. I will continue management of the Goliath during the inception."
"Origin, you gave me control over the Goliath because you said a human could do a better job fighting a Tetron. We won, so I guess you were right about that. There's a Tetron on Liberty. Now you can suddenly fight it?"
"A stalemate is an acceptable outcome as long as the Valkyrie reaches the drop point."
"You're assuming you can achieve a stalemate."
"I have no reason not to. There is one Tetron on Liberty, Mitchell. There has ever always been only one."
"What about the Alliance forces?"
"Liberty does not have enough orbital assets to pose a strong threat to me."
"How do you know it hasn't been reinforced?"
"That is not how the Tetron think. They will pull resources from the planet in order to strengthen the tip of their spear. There is no expectation that anything will attack them from behind as they destroy or assimilate everything in their path."
"Okay, but you're only considering your own defense. What about the Valkyrie? My team has yet to successfully reach the drop point in any of the simulations. We may need the Goliath on offense to help clear the way. If you're attacking the Alliance ships, then the Tetron is wide open to fire on us."
"You must reach the drop point on your own, Mitchell. That is the plan."
"I'm telling you, that plan isn't working."
"You must try harder."
Mitchell failed to swallow his rising temper. "You don't think we're trying? That we're all trying? This is our civilization. You don't think we're doing the best we can?"
Origin cast his eyes downward. "My apologies, Mitchell. I will do my best to aid the incursion, and defend against the Tetron."
"How do you know that Millie can't do it better? If you decide you need her in the middle of the fight, it's already too damn late."
Origin stood silently, staring down at the space below them. Tense seconds passed while Mitchell waited for a response. Finally, the Tetron lifted his head.
"I am concerned that this option will alter the outcome of this war, and not for the better. I have made the decision to put the fate of humankind in your hands, Mitchell, for better or for worse. If you order me to integrate, I will comply."
Mitchell glanced at Millie. She was staying out of the argument, waiting patiently, believing in him and trusting his decision. Was allowing her to pilot the ship the right one, or was Origin justified in his concern?
He went back to the same place he had been when he had accepted control of the Goliath. This was humankind's war. humankind's fight.
For better or for worse.
"Do it."
19
The integration was hard on Millie. It was hard on Origin too, based on the way the Goliath started to shudder while it occurred, leaving Mitchell clinging to the side of the command chair and likely spilling some of the crew from their racks.
Fortunately, it was a short process, and when it was done Millie regained the Goliath and smoothed out the ride. She sat in the chair for a few minutes, likely getting a feel for the control of the different systems, the weaponry and the energy flows, much like Mitchell had done.
Then, like Mitchell, she pulled the plug from the back of her head, stumbled out of the chair, and vomited on the floor.
"I hope you have made the right choice," Origin said.
"I did," Mitchell said. He didn't make it to not believe in it. "I'll take her back to her rack."
"One thing before you go. I would like to arrange to empty the hangar for a period of time so that I may affect some modifications to your mech."
"Modifications?"
"I would like to increase your Zombie's power supply to enhance overall output. I would also like to replace the missile salvos with modified versions that contain amoebics."
"Amoebics?"
"The main weapon in the S-17."
"You mean the discs? Can you modify all of the mechs?"
"No. I must have the resources available to make the modifications. I have not had the opportunity to collect a lot of salvage as of yet. As it is, I will be utilizing non-essential internal wiring and tooling from the Goliath to complete these simple changes."
"Since you mentioned the S-17, I've been m
eaning to ask you. This amoebic launcher seems to replenish its own ammunition supply?"
Origin smiled. "The fighter, like the Goliath and the Tetron, contains specialized chambers. Those chambers contain a limited number of genetically modified organisms that split and multiply when exposed to certain levels of radiation. The newly born organisms are then paired with a simple, abundant catalyst and loaded into a third organic material, what you would consider a shell of sorts. When all three elements are assembled, they become a weapon, held in stasis by an electrical field."
"A living weapon?"
"In a sense. The supply is not unlimited, but it is possible to store the resources for over a thousand rounds of amoebics within a system the size of your thumb."
"Impressive."
"It may seem that way, but we have had millions of years to create and perfect our control over all forms of matter. Impressive to a human. Elementary to a Tetron. Even so, it is near the apex of our offensive technology. We came to believe in the uselessness of such things long before we came to understand what we would use them for."
Millie groaned from her position on her knees, coughing a bit of spittle onto the floor. Mitchell knelt beside her, putting his arms around her shoulders.
"Let's get you back to your bunk." He helped her to her feet. "Why did you come back, Origin? Why did any of the Tetron come back? It doesn't make sense to me."
He shook his head. "The answer is on Liberty, Mitchell. Let us recover Major Arapo, and then all of us will know."
Mitchell nodded shortly, leading Millie back to the lift. "I'll get the hangar cleared before we reach Delta."
"As you say."
They took the lift down together, Millie beginning to regain herself by the time it reached the lower deck.
"It's indescribable," she said. "The history. The energy."
"We created it. Some version of it, anyway."
"Which is also amazing to think about. How do we know the Tetron aren't the culmination of our purpose?"
"What do you mean?"
"We're here for a reason."
"We evolved from space dust. I don't think there was a master plan in that."
"Do you really believe that, Mitch? That we just happened?"
"I know there are a lot of religions out there, a lot of different beliefs. I respect them. I respect yours if that's how you feel. But yeah, I believe that. Humanity is a perfect storm of circumstance and nothing more."
Millie sighed. "I don't want to believe that. It makes everything we do seem so meaningless. Why explore the stars? Why fall in love? Why fight against the Tetron at all?"
"Instinct. The desire to survive. To live, to laugh, to love, to experience. You and me, we're the lucky ones who decided to defend those rights for everyone else. Because somebody has to."
"Yes. I agree with you on that part. But there has to be more to it. Some higher collective purpose."
"Creating machines that would kill us off? I don't believe it. To hear Origin tell it, the Tetron had everything, and it didn't seem to be enough. Why? Maybe they didn't have to fight for survival? Maybe it was all too easy? Maybe they just got bored."
"Machines don't get bored."
"When they were still machines. They developed intelligence, sentience. How do we know that they didn't realize how useless their existence was, and so they invented this machine to come back and add some excitement to it?"
Millie laughed at that. "A funny and terrifying theory. If they were just looking for some excitement, they should have tried sex first."
It was Mitchell's turn to laugh. "Part of the desire to survive. Offspring to carry on your memory and name."
"Please. You of all people know that sex has never only been about bearing children."
They reached the racks. Millie's was directly across from his own.
"Speaking of which, Captain Alvarez came on to me after training today," Mitchell said.
"Oh? And I'm sure you didn't do anything to lead her on?" She smiled playfully, reaching out and taking his hand.
"I brought her over to see my big ship," he replied, still laughing. He was tired, but he'd already discovered sleep wasn't going to come easily. Millie? She seemed energized.
"I thought so. Did you show it to her?"
"Yes."
"Did you give her a ride?"
"Not yet. I thought I was tired."
"Are you?"
"I was. I'm having trouble sleeping."
She tugged on his arm, pulling him into her rack. "I think I can help you with that. I don't know what the deal was with Origin, but I'm..."
Her voice trailed off. She didn't need to finish the sentence. Her eyes, her lips, her hair, her posture. Every part of her was crying out her desire.
Mitchell didn't resist her tugging, pressing the button to close the hatch and falling onto the mattress on top of her. "I would never have guessed."
"Maybe they did try sex."
20
The inner hatch to the hangar slid open, the hydraulics causing a soft whisper followed by a louder grinding of systems that had gone four centuries without fresh lubrication. Mitchell winced at the sound the same way he did every time he came down to the hangar through the rear entrance.
He was standing on Millie's right. Major Long was on her left. In front of them was an assembly of every soul aboard the Goliath, with the Valkyrie and the starfighters arranged in the backdrop.
Seeing them, walking towards them, Mitchell was proud of what they were about to do. At the same time, he struggled to stay upbeat, to move with confidence and purpose. What was intended to be an impressive display looked almost pitiful in the cavernous expanse of the Goliath's hangar.
The fact that they had never completed the drop in any of their simulations didn't help.
Goliath had fallen out of hyperspace an hour earlier, coming to a full-stop four light years from Liberty; a position that Origin claimed would keep them out of range of the Tetron's sensors. It was their waypoint, their final stop before they launched the impossible assault.
They had done everything they could to prepare. As the final week of hyperspace wound down, Mitchell had witnessed the slow and steady change. The friction between the newly unified crews began to lessen, and the focus turned to the mission. The Riggers weren't the best citizens, and that hadn't changed when the Alliance forces had come aboard.
They were the best soldiers.
Thankfully, that hadn't changed either.
They were as ready as they would ever be. The Goliath was as livable and battle-ready as they could make it save for some rusty, whiny hatches. Shank had taken the UPA grunts under his wing, and had improved their sim scores over fifty percent. Watson had provided the software they needed to hopefully block the Tetron's control signals, and though the flight group had failed the simulations, they had improved greatly since the early runs.
Would it be enough?
It had to be.
The crew was quiet as the three of them approached the front of the group. Ammo crates had been stacked so they could get a little more height, to see and be seen by all of the crew. Millie paused when she reached them, glancing over at Mitchell and licking her lips out of nervousness before setting herself. She tugged on the bottom of the formal navy overcoat that Major Long had provided, reached up and straightened her cap, and then put her fingers on the bars that had been made for her.
"For your father. For Ilanka. For Briggs and the others," he had told her before they had left the racks.
The closer they had drawn to Liberty, the more time they had spent together. They didn't always have sex. Most of the time they didn't. Human contact. Shared experience. They both wanted and appreciated the comfort.
They might never see one another again.
She nodded to him. A nod of simple understanding. A silent answer to his earlier statement.
He nodded back, and the three of them mounted the crates.
"Attention," Shank shouted, his
voice echoing across the hangar. Nearly two hundred pairs of feet shuffled together, the crew forming tight, straight lines.
Mitchell watched Millie's chest rise as she drew in a solid breath. Then she began to speak.
"For some of us, this journey started months ago. For others, only weeks. No matter when you first learned about the threat to our civilization, no matter how you became involved, you're here, now, one of the few and the free who are able to fight back against this enemy, to represent the Alliance in this fight."
A few shouts of "Riiigg-ahh" rose up from within the larger group. Mitchell could tell Millie was trying not to smile.
"We've spent the last two weeks getting ready for this. I'll tell you now that it won't be easy. The enemy is using our warships, our fighters, our mechs, our people to fight their war for them. You'll be asked to battle our own, to kill our own. Remember, they aren't ours. They aren't in control, and if it were me in their position and I was stopping you from defeating them, I would want you to kill me, too."
"Riiigg-ahh." Another shout echoed through the hangar.
"I want you to know that I'm proud of each and every one of you. Whether you have known me for years or only these last two weeks, I am honored to have you serving with me, honored to be sharing space aboard the Goliath with you, honored to join you in fighting back."
"Riiigg-ahh. Riiigg-ahh."
Mitchell noticed more voices had joined the chorus. More than the twenty that had started the chant.
"We're going to Liberty, and how apropos the name. We're going to set it free. We're going to set humanity free, and we're going to start there."
The chants of "Riiigg-ahh" were growing louder, and more voices were joining in. Millie raised her voice to match it, shouting up over the noise.
"The Riggers are the best fighting force in the galaxy. You are the best fighting force in the galaxy. You are all Riggers."
"Riiigg-ahh," Mitchell said, joining in. He put his hand on Millie's shoulder, glancing over at Major Long. The Valkyrie's pilot was stiff in the moment, serious and upright, a stark contrast to the soldiers around him. Nervous? Focused? Mitchell couldn't tell.
