Mariposa (2173)

by B.B. Irvine

  Chapter 07 - AFTERDEATHS

  23 June 2173 – Thursday

  IWG ADMIN COMPOUND #2

  Northshield, Heart [HIP 27913]

  XIU-LI

  The setting fit her mood.

  Ensign Xiu-Li Chen sat on a bench looking up at a moon. She was out alone, it was night, and it was winter on this part of the planet called Heart, 28.5 light years from Sol, 24 light years from HD-19373. Despite her warm “thermal ops” field uniform, she was cold... but that was perhaps not because it was cold out.

  The debriefers were at the local prison base, which was isolated far out in the middle of nowhere to facilitate prevention of escape – the base had been dropped in and was brand new, never previously used. It wasn’t an active police station unit, and so far the jail at Diamond City had managed the few local drunks and petty criminals, so there had been no prisoners for the prison yet. But the debriefers were at the prison base; she needed debriefing. So she was staying at the prison base too (in the staff facility, not as a real prisoner). That was InterWorld Group efficiency for you.

  She had tried hard to be perky and cheerful, but their air of hostile disbelief, disdain and distracted disinterest were difficult for her.

  Then there was O.P.P., the same criminals they had met on Cape Of Velvet in January.

  Locally on Heart, the deliberate fouling of several diamond slurry lines was judged a “critical terrorist action” done by a group calling itself the Organization of Planetary Projects, worthy of investigation and alarm. Doing this here, and their other violent actions in many systems elsewhere on May 1, 2173, meant that the IWG-SS JOHN A. WHEELER arrived from HD-19373 to find humans once again fighting themselves, and an IWG far more concerned about security in their local systems from “O.P.P. forces” than from any “aliens” who, it appeared, had all died in the encounter anyway.

  Not that anyone was thanking WHEELER for surviving it.

  Xiu-Li was here alone, as far as she could tell. She had been briefed on prisoner handling as part of her duties as a Tactical ensign on WHEELER, so whether others were based here or not, the only other people she saw were two nurses, a five member Tactical team “to protect her,” and the three debriefers, who seemed to be channeling questions from an expert panel. She had seen a lieutenant commander from a distance, in a cross corridor, but everyone else she saw was a lieutenant.

  Naturally, Xiu-Li answered every single question. She had no illusions about Qet intentions: if they could figure out which direction to look in, they would try to push. Humans could push back (she and Threnody were proof), but by then they had all heard about the O.P.P.’s various attacks in every system on May 1. There were explosions in Sol System, the Triplet platforms in Alpha Cetauri, and the R+D Yards in The Gem Isles, and damage to the diamond slurry lines on Heart, milk lines and media messages on Cape Of Velvet to make points there as well, and now the IWG and humanity was far more internally occupied.

  Xiu-Li wanted them all to know. It should be available in the records for later use. She had no doubts that some day it would be needed, so she was being as clear as possible about the events.

  At the same time, Xiu-Li was a little worried. She still understood spoken Qet, and although she told her debriefers about the initial event (otherwise they would doubt her translations of all the alien communication intercepts, about one hundred and forty lines, mostly threats made against each other), she let Truhart’s report stand and made it seem she just remembered lines well when she heard them.

  In fact, it was just as fresh as ever – the line, then a sort of soft concurrent overdub in Standard. It was not a memory, it was in real time, and she felt it was remaining long enough to be permanent. Great! Now I’ve got a colony of translating alien nanobugs living in my head.

  Xiu-Li had a feeling they were not Qet, however; something about the way the Qet had handled that box (they had even argued about it, earning a rebuke from the “renegade Qet leader” she had called Queen).

  The green material it was made of, elements of the design – somehow not part of the Qet weapons, gear cases and ship images she had seen, and unless there were some really sneaky brain RNA-writers for memory transfers that crossed species and could alter her brain cells, it was impossible to mechanically teach her a new language, even with advanced nanotech – which, come to think of it, the Niv were quite advanced in.

  No memory RNA, but build a self-assembling nano translator chip and make a direct auditory nerve input, somewhere after the ear and tympanic membrane. When words are heard, the unit offers a translation, via the input.

  It fit the sensations in her body after the Qet she called Queen blew them up her nose and she had inhaled them; a comment about “reharvest the nanos,” and her conversations with the Qet all fit that sort of solution. The headache she had gotten had been the inhaled nanounits moving to their areas and creating a way to both hear external speech and “rebroadcast it” to her in Standard.

  If the Qet have never met humans before, how would their nano translator know Standard?

  Qet seemed rather proud; they were probably upset the whole Universe doesn’t speak Qet, which she would bet they described as a “perfect language” – but are they bent on conquest to make the Universe (or even just humans) do so?

  Xiu-Li couldn’t tell. Pursuing “renegade usurpers” indicated laws and social rules of order, with penalties for violations – just like humans had. And the InterWorld Group fought crime. But Queen appeared so excessive, she was a poor example – would there be the same violent response for any thought “outside the pack”?

  Whether there were Qet who felt that term, or something catchy like it, would permit a war for territory was another significant question – they seemed prone to “following,” even with “flocks” and “packs.” There were rules of dominance, and ancient reflexes triggered by visual stimulus or verbal call – four of which she had been working on, with only one available in the record (that work required her to meditate about Queen, the lead Qet renegade, so it had very unpleasant emotional codings, but the gutterals might someday cause a flinch or other reaction that she would use to press her point... )

  Oh, wait, we’re fighting the O.P.P., not Qet, Xiu-Li reminded herself. Now, those bastards she really hated!

  First, they attacked WHEELER’s crew during the shore leave attempt at Cape Of Velvet six months ago, in January, then they launched wide attacks, all timed on May 1, across InterWorld Group space. The R and D Yards at the Gem Isles had been essentially destroyed, they had killed citizens in almost every system, and their efforts meant WHEELER was now “on station” while here at Heart. That restricted WHEELER’s crew to the isolation of the mountain woods – a very pretty, fantastic place to camp out, judging by vids.

  The wind blew. Xiu-Li wished she could see the ship, but orbital angle and timing put it below her horizon at this moment.

  Since they had been the targets of previous O.P.P. actions, WHEELER was not getting any leave in the city while they awaited orders.

  The Captain had managed to get permission for a “camp site” in the middle of nowhere. He had approached it like he was invading under fire – remote scouting, scans and triple scans, overflights – everything he wanted his crew to practice, just in case. In the end,they had a very nice little camp carved out of the deep woods in a mountain range.

  They were demonstrably the only human beings for a thousand square kilometers, and despite all of their “wood carving,” they were still shielded from orbital detection (except during a daily shuttleRunner landing and take-off).

  It was a glum ship – even with “Camp Matisou.” WHEELER had lost eight crew. All of them had friends, some with a higher level of intensity than others. But no one had any grudges or major feuds on WHEELER, which had been a happy ship.

  Everyone was missed.

  She wondered what they were doing up there on the ship now.

  Xiu-Li had watched them plan it all, her name left off ever
y duty roster. “You will have a story to tell,” said the Captain. “We’ll all be here when you’re done. In fact, we’ll be doing some station keeping time at Heart between survey patrols of HD-19373. I haven’t told the crew yet, but you need to know. You’ll have a full menu to work – we’ll definitely need a pair of advanced sensor package Runners now, plus some more ship sensor upgrades are in the pipeline. You’ll have take out everything you’ve just done, most likely.” Matisou grinned. “I did it three times on the CALIPER.” Then he had looked serious. “Of course, we weren’t under attack at the time.”

  He hadn’t specified attackers, and she hadn’t speculated, already thinking about finishing Runner Two and what they had learned that would speed up the Runner One conversion…

  She wished she was up there, not sitting here.

  She wondered what Aria Threnody was doing. Aria was due for debriefing as well, but perhaps lieutenant commanders were treated differently, for she was still up on the ship.

  Aria might be able to give her some insights about nanotech, but Xiu-Li wanted to be careful. As friendly as they had become, Aria was a senior officer; she would probably have to make a report about any new sort of nanotranslator technology.

  Right. Especially if it’s infested one of the ship’s officers!

  The next day after rescue from HD-19373-ESPC 12, the crew had been wary of her for the first couple of hours. Xiu-Li was run-down and still in a physical state of shock. She spent the day resting, so it only happened at meals (Chef knew everything that had happened and he made her personal favorites when she showed up). Breakfast in the mess was tasty and filling but “chilly,” albeit civil, and lunch not much warmer.

  Dinner had been with the Captain, Takaguchi, and Threnody, in the Captain’s Booth. Xiu-Li had emerged into the main dining area to no appreciable stir or any reaction (which was better than everybody getting quiet and staring at her, as they had at breakfast and lunch).

  As she had left, she met Wentlin Forbben, who was just coming in to eat. He and Julissa had been seeing each other. He stopped and saluted her. “I’m proud to be serving with you,” he said. “To absent friends.” It was quiet and intense: they had both lost Lissa...

  Embarassed, but somehow pleased, Xiu-Li saluted back. “To the service, past, present, and future,” she replied quietly. Both of them were thinking about Julissa Martines, the Qet that had killed her, and the new realities their service faced.

  It happened again in the corridor, people going out of their way to ask how she was, or acknowledge she had tried her best. What changed? What had happened? Whatever it was, she couldn’t get back to her quarters without half a dozen hails.

  The next few days it continued, until everyone in the whole ship had checked in with her and told them they were with her. It didn’t mean they were her friends now (part of the reason WHEELER had been a happy ship was that crew knew how to avoid each other when there was a deeper personality clash) but it meant they had...

  Accepted me back into the pack... or are we a flock? It was a Qet political distinction, one that she worried might be critical in how hard the Qet would push, and she didn’t know which Qet side would be the best one to be on.

  It was when she accessed the compSys to work on her reports that she discovered Clarissa D’Arial’s report was now a part of the ship’s database.

  Xiu-Li stared at the log entry and cried a few minutes. She did not listen to it (perhaps one day, but not that day), and realized the crew had heard enough of what happened to realize how awful it was without her saying a word to anyone but Threnody, the Captain and Takaguchi.

  Xiu-Li looked around her at the bare trees in the moonlight, with some full pine-like perennials behind and up the slopes. Heart was a beautiful planet. So was HD-19373, still officially called ESPC12. Both orbited nice G0 stars like the Sun, and they were habitable. Humans and Qet found these planets habitable, therefore desirable.

  Planets were generally better living than a totally Belt-like habitat. Humans were social enough that they could detect a difference when they interacted long distance, and this worsened when they literally weren’t “all breathing the same air.” Theorists spoke of an “eco-consciousness” which can’t operate upon individuals living in their own complete habitat, as the ships and colony structures in the Belt did (each was a separate pocket of human life in space choosing to interact for supplies and contact, but still in the end just teardrops coming together and parting again).

  This was why the Belt and Earth had always had more problems than any planet in any system did – the Triplet at Centauri, and the Gem Isles at Procyon were other examples, but in those cases the distance from Earth had made both Triplet and Gem Isles inhabitants a lot more cohesive than any other Belt-style cultures, and those cultures appreciated the energy it had taken to create the Triplet and the Gem Isles colonies – they just found Earth increasingly “old fashioned,” and treated it like a clueless parent.

  She wondered about which category a ship like WHEELER fit. They were all breathing the same air together as a crew of individuals, all going from system to system and planet to planet, on the orders of their admirals – an Operations Chief, under the Commander, Northern Ecliptic Division of IWG Space Fleeet, in IWG Sol System Command, and all owed the Service an allegiance. Orders were then interpreted by the captain, who gave the orders needed to carry out the orders received from the Ops Chief, an admiral. The captain also “enforced rules and regulations, practices and protocols” of the service.

  The Service.

  That meant their lives were all tied to something that had never really needed a planet or asteroid habitat to exist: a duty to others. A Belter would risk losing their own life during a hard rescue operation, regardless of the origin of the call, but would justify a homicide by claiming a vendetta existed between their habitat and another – rescue and murder within thirty hours of each other, by the same crew of humans (on Ceres, where this had happened).

  Habitats were different little pockets, filled with many sorts of different things (or everything the same), where WHEELER was more like a big sock full of many smooth sea-worn stones – all stones, all sleek, but each were different in color and basic compositon. No sharp edges. Some were heavier, some lighter, some were dense like basalt and others you could see right through, like rose quartz...

  I miss you, Lissa, you and your rocks and pebbles and... okay, enough. Not now, anyway. It’s too cold to start crying here, and if somebody’s watching...

  After three minutes, Xiu-Li managed to stop. She blew her nose, put the wipee in a zip pocket. She felt better, somehow. She had never cried much, just getting on with the next step to get back on track. In this case the next step probably is crying, so – but I’d rather be working!

  Six weeks after the Qet encounter, Xiu-Li was still recovering from it. Working out the loss of close friends and crew, helpless to prevent it, was the sort of thing you really needed friends and colleagues for, and this was wasted time on Heart, being examined and interrogated (“debriefed” when it was the Good Cop’s turn). It was growing tedious.

  She took a deep breath of winter air. There were people on the ship who had been overdue for a planet break; here she was, wishing she was still on board...

  Then Xiu-Li giggled. She had never realized it, but all of the tactical training and ship service time on the Medical Quick Response Team was offset by a tendency to be sent off on planet missions to protect WHEELER crew. Xiu-Li was getting plenty of planet breaks, but they had turned out badly.

  No... WHEELER was home now.

  She wanted to be at home, not sitting on a bench.

  Even in the beautiful light of a night winter’s moon on Heart, twenty eight light years away from Earth.

  Her DPaT comm beeped. She sighed – it became a cloud of haze. “Ensign Chen.”

  “Jool? This is the Stooge Crew. A bunch of us were wondering whether Lieutenant Commander Threnody has any Moe-like behavioral pa
tterns.” The voice was cool and direct – it was Aria Threnody herself.

  “Hey, Aria! Who’s the bunch of us that’s wondering?”

  “Lone Wolf, the Brain Trust, and the Very Reverend Representative of Shemp.”

  Xiu-Li grinned. “All the usual suspects. Well, which tendency are we discussing?” Her heart warmed at hearing the voice of her friend.

  Now Lobo came on. “Specifically, the use of a thrown boulder as a weapon,” he said.

  Xiu-Li felt herself flush even more. It must be media time. “Well, although that does seem Moe-like,” she said, “it was also an effective improvisational use of a naturally available material as a stealth weapon. That it connects with a Moe-like thud and comical collapse if applied properly is not reason enough to tag the Chief with Moe-like tendencies.”

  “You agree with the Lone Wolf, Brain Trust, and the Chief then, but Doctor Truhart has called it a Stooge Solution.”

  “I’m surprised, Wolf. The Very Reverend Representative of Shemp doesn’t usually argue the esthetics of fist fights.” Xiu-Li grinned.

  “No, Ensign, no one can argue it wasn’t humanely effective,” said Truhart himself now. “I applaud that effort by the Chief, although we’re saddened it was still ineffective in the long run. No, it just seems to be a bit, oh, I don’t know...”

  “Permit me to assist. Chief, please estimate the weight of the rock you picked up and threw at the Qet servant?”

  “Between twenty and twenty one kilos,” said Aria, in the background.

  Truhart whistled.

  “Yes, sir, I’m afraid even Shemp, the Great Gibbering One, would have likely gotten a hernia just lifting it up, let alone throwing it. Plus the noise of our magpistols is a dead giveaway.” Xiu-Li stretched, the cold here now completely forgotten. The one pleasant surprise in the past six weeks was Aria’s response to the Three Stooges: no one had ever seen her laugh so hard. “What are you watching, Doctor T?”

  “Three Pirates, I think.”

  “The castaways?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, ironically, it generally requires a Curly-like strength to toss a rock that big, but that wouldn’t be something Curly would do.” Xiu-Li sighed. “I’m glad you all called. I was just thinking about being up there.”

  “How’s the food down there?”

  She smiled. “Tolerable, and I eat in the cafeteria for every meal.”

  Truhart paused. He knew Xiu-Li was aware he was fishing for a sign of depression or post traumatic stress disorder. “Things otherwise okay in general?”

  “I sleep deeply after specific incident debriefings, so I expect I’ll need to keep talking about it. I expect I’ll sleep better once I can talk to my friends about my feelings – not an area any of the debriefers ask about.”

  “Mmm-hm.”

  “Any Medic calls? How’s Tania doing?”

  Truhart chuckled. “She seems disappointed that nothing has reached Q.R.T. levels.”

  “I’ll tell her to hang in there, next time we comm.” There was laughter in the background. It made Xiu-Li smile.

  “Very good. Let me turn you back over to the Chief.”

  “Thanks, Doc. See you soon, I hope.” She looked up at the sky.

  A red flash as she looked up – a ruby red point/line – the context so incongruous that Xiu-Li actually reacts, rather than freezing –

  Sprawled in the snow –

  wumpff!! -KRackkk!

  The wooden bench back was pierced by a hole, cracked in half –

  “Xiu-Li? What was that?” came Aria’s voice.

  “Sniper fire from the treeline a half klick or so away, aimed at me on the bench. I’m not kidding you, Aria, somebody just took a shot at me. I saw the lasersight flash.”

  Threnody’s voice, steel taut: “Let me repeat you: You saw a laser sight flash and were fired upon by a sniper from the treeline around five hundred meters away, the shot striking the bench you managed to vacate. Is that correct, Ensign Chen?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Commander Threnody.” She looked up at the dark trees. “I believe I can see the lasersight targeting dot moving on the trees behind me.”

  wumpff!! KRAckk-kkk-kkkkk!

  “That shot took out a branch four meters left... there’s a bush there.” Xiu-Li sighed. If they had a spotter, she would be pinned here until shot, or shot if she moved, or if they moved – the pure luck of a ground dip put her below detection once she had sprawled, or they’d have shot her already.

  “Bridge, Drury to Ensign Chen.” Threnody had switched her.

  “Ensign Chen.”

  “Matisou,” said the captain himself now. “What’s this I here about –”

  wumpff!!-KRACKKK!

  A branch fell across her, on an angle that just missed hitting her, beyond a hard thump on her side.

  “Ensign Chen, I get the impression the safest place for you in the universe seems to be on the ship.”

  “Captain? The base is –”

  “Penetrated, by whoever is shooting at one of my officers with a military grade sniper weapon. Can you hold out for twelve minutes? Commander T. wants to give you a face to face inspection.”

  “Aye, sir. I’m not looking to give the Q.R.T.s any business.”

  WUMPFF!!!–THUNKK! The tree she was lying next to shook and evergreen needles fell in a shower of neo-pine.

  “Sir, I’m going to move out a bit.” The fallen branch actually provided a degree of cover. She crawled under it, keeping low, following the dip, moving down toward heavier bushes.

  It was weird. No one at Space University ever trained under “live fire” (even the Tactical majors who served in the Fleet or became the local colony police), yet Xiu-Li had been under it three or four times so far – learning enough that she could move under it, and get away.

  At the same time, Xiu-Li tried to look ahead of her. Flushing her toward another killer was one way to kill her, either as back-up plan if the shot missed, or as a primary plan.

  She crawled between five thick bushy evergreens and lay there, programming her field uniform.

  Serving on a starship meant needing a set of clothes for every season because planet environments had seasons. During a survey visit a crew might go to every continent, north and south.

  In Xiu-Li’s case the move to Tactical Division meant access to uniforms with extra features, for use on Tactical missions. Since she didn’t have any other winter clothes, she was wearing her usual Tac field uniform for “thermal ops.”

  It meant her thermal uniform was not merely warm, like a regular crew’s thermal, but had special electromagnetic shielding and a separate outer shell temperature system which generated either cold or heat (and also masked body heat), so the wearer matched the ambient enviromental temperature. Once activated, the uniform radiated so little heat or cold (depending on the setting) that thermal imaging sensors could not fully detect it against ambient temperature. Radar was also baffled, but that still left sound, motion, and naked-eye detection as easy trip-ups.

  In current circumstances, however, she had essentially vanished from the two main types of distance detection systems. Snow muffled sound and made a directional microphone less viable as a targeting system. That left only motion detectors, which were more of a problem on a Tac infiltration into a prepared position; they were not nailed up in the trees out here, after all. And falling snow would be a constant problem.

  There were two sharp cracks behind her. From this distance it sounded like a conventional kinetic weapon – a rifle, single action.

  “You still with us, Jool?” It was Mary Kiernan, another Tactical ensign, on the Tac Quick Response Team. There was a burst of static under her words.

  “Still here, Mary. Sorry to get you out on a cold night.” She could imagine them in the shuttleRunner, streaking toward her.

  “Just don’t put me to work, okay?” She sounded shaky. She was trained as a Tac Q.R.T. field medic, but wasn’t very experienced yet.

  “Ok
ay.” She crawled out from under the bush and padded quickly down a gully and into another, thicker forest of evergreens. There was a broad field on the other side. “I’ll try to keep it to watching me sit.”

  The explosion of snow startled her off her feet and pitched her down the far side of a low ditch.

  KRAKKK!

  The sound of the shot reached her at last. Close, able, and willing to move fast to follow me.

  Xiu-Li lay there, trying to catch her breath. They would have to run up to the edge to get her, and that would take time –

  The sky exploded – lights, engine noise. The Runner tore over the woods and Xiu-Li slithered forward like a snowsnake as the wind of its pass made the snow fall from the branches, filling the air with white flakes, a natural, obscuring smokescreen.

  Xiu-Li bolted for the field and ran as fast as she could, arriving just as the hatch opened. Hands grabbed her, the hatch shut, and they were off.

  Commander Jason Takaguchi peered at her. “You okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m taking you back to the ship, then I’m going back down to get your things, take a look around.”

  She was about to protest, realized that a personal reconaissance was the real reason he was going, and just said, “Thanks, sir.” She studied him. “Think this was the O.P.P.?”

  Takaguchi looked up at Javier Nunez, piloting, and Mary Kiernan, the comm/co-pilot. They were at the front end of the Runner, talking to WHEELER, busy on their approach – it was just a twelve minute flight, after all.

  He looked back, leaned over, said softly, “The O.P.P. would’ve been blamed had it succeeded, presumably as an act of general chaos.” His voice went even lower. “But consider a truly cynical view of things. Ask yourself if the handling of the alien artifacts over the past eight years suggests an approach of open inquiry, or an attempt to limit or suppress any sort of knowledge about them or the planet they came from.”

  Xiu-Li stared at him, mouth open. “Sir, you’re not suggesting this was an...” She couldn’t bring herself to say InterWorld Group operation.

  Takaguchi shrugged. “There appears to be a dynamic to keep all information about artifacts and alien civilizations under control. It takes support from many powerful, influential people to maintain that.”

  “Umm.” Xiu-Li was stunned. “Uhh...”

  “They’d have only the highest motives, of course. Not wanting to go overboard for two bits of metal, not wanting to cause a panic, even waiting to go back and take a better look around before deciding what to say. You know how the pressure’s gone up about new colonies.”

  “Yes, that’s also an O.P.P.’s complaint. Maybe they wanted to send a message to the...” She trailed off.

  He sighed. “Shooting at buildings or taking people out at their entrance is sending a message. Taking a shot at you all alone on a bench might be a ‘random statement,’ but it also might be somebody shooting right at you.”

  “Is Chief Threnody at risk too, then?”

  He shrugged. “She has not received the attention your actions in Clarissa’s report did, nor did she have the Qet exposure that you did.”

  “She killed one with her bare hands!”

  “A very brief encounter, compared to yours.”

  “What about the whole ship?” Xiu-Li felt herself shivering.

  Takaguchi reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “We’re all effectively being sequestered, kept out here on guard duty against the O.P.P. and also to minimize our contact with the main systems. By the time the O.P.P. crisis is over, even our story will be stale, and people will find it hard to believe it happened... and I don’t think anyone could go as far as destroying a whole ship, which would attract attention to us.”

  “I just can’t...” She looked down at her hands.

  “It would be nothing personal, just a way to limit information and remove the two of you, slow down reminders of the encounter.”

  She looked him in the eye. “Sir, I never inquired before. I know Tactical Division provides police forces. Are there official ratings slots for snipers and other more soldierly forces?”

  “Yes and no. We aren’t soldiers; if real troops are needed, Army units are transported. There have always been special Tac units in the Fleet, in the event senior personnel need bodyguards or rescue, until Army or Fleet Intell units can arrive. They have special skills.” The docking alert chimed. “You raise a good point –there are other special units besides the Fleet’s.” He gave her sad grin. “You no doubt visited that bench on every walk you took.”

  She nodded. “Does this mean I can never leave the ship again?”

  Takaguchi shook his head. “No, because our response to this bit of institutional hardball will be to raise just enough fuss to keep you out here, safe with us, and make it clear that any further attempts on your life will cause the very publicity your death was supposed to prevent. Anyway, attempts to explain this away as an ‘accidental’ discharge would not work a second time.” He grinned again. “That is just about the only possible explanation for it, besides the O.P.P. Meanwhile, you’ve a choice of reprimands to explain why your supervising officer – that’s me – had to yank you up to house arrest. Insubordination is a good one; it shows some raw passion that further service can channel, mold, and mellow.”

  Xiu-Li scowled. “I get shot at, and I get a reprimand? Is that the best we can do? Sir?”

  “Just in case. It’s just in case. I may need to play dumb, and a commander who is pissed about insubordination might get away with pulling you out without telling anybody we were doing it. Especially if it turns out that the whole base is...” He trailed off, unsure how to put it.

  She looked down. “I understand, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “It’s not your fault, Xiu-Li; all you did was come in to work today. And I’m sorry we have to resort to rigging up a reprimand as your cover story.”

  There was a thump. The access tube was in place. “Good luck, sir,” said Xiu-Li as the hatch opened.

  “I presume everything you brought with you is either on you now, or in your room?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t worry about it. See you later. Do a call check with the Captain, and then the Stooge Working Group is holding the last showing for you.”

  Xiu-Li blinked back tears. “Aye, sir. Thank you,” she said, and darted out through the hatch, through the tube, and into the working bay. The inner hatch slid shut behind her.

  Xiu-Li stood there breathing deeply, leaning against the cool metal hatch. Thirty minutes ago she had been sitting on a bench, wishing she was here; twenty five minutes ago she’d been under fire and snow crawling for her life; fifeen minutes ago she’d jumped on board the Runner, evacuating the area.

  Oh, the time pressures of this Modern Life.

  She pressed the wall comm. “Ensign Chen, system comm check in to Captain Matisou.” The system would log her in as on board and would notify Matisou, who could respond as he saw fit.

  “Matisou. You okay, Xiu-Li?”

  “Physically fit, sir. Much on my mind.”

  “Understood. Not your usual... ahh... hm... well.” Her last two ops had also become firefights.

  “My thoughts exactly, sir. But at least I’ve learned enough to get clear without getting shot; the close ones were only when I stopped to comm.”

  “Mmmm... any feedback regarding your last briefing?”

  Xiu-Li eyed the comm panel – surely a detailed review was not appropriate on an unsecured wall comm. “I found it interesting, and we both agreed to hope that a reprimand could be avoided, although I do understand why it might be required for the situation.”

  Matisou chuckled dryly. “Very well put. I agree with you. You’ve been an excellent member of the Service since you entered the University, and you’ve been a good officer. I hope we can avoid any reprimand as well; I wish it was under our control, and I personally appreciate your understanding, and your willingness to assist.�
�

  “Well, sir, as it’s to save my life... I just think that type of reprimand would be one I should earn for myself, from an action of principle, like the refusal to obey an illegal order – I can’t imagine just losing my temper at an officer to their face.”

  Matisou chuckled again. “You have met just a tenth of a tenth of all the officers you will have contact with through the course of your career. I have a reprimand for insubordination, and I will tell you in the Captain’s confidence that Commander T, your last briefer, got two early on, so…”

  Xiu-Li blushed. “Yes, sir.”

  “All right – you will attend Divisions tomorrow, and we’ll figure out what we’re all doing. I’m sure Commander Takaguchi will have an interesting report.”

  “Aye, sir!”

  “Now, I want you to go see your friends, and try to relax. That is an order! Matisou out.”

  She walked quickly to her quarters to change out of her thermals. As she slid on a gym set (light zip jacket, sweatpants, shoes) it struck her that the Captain’s solution was almost Stooge – he sponsored a card game, three hours long, every other week.

  It was strictly for drink and dessert credits in the commissary, was in the log as “Social Night With The Captain,” and was against regulations, if one wanted to look hard enough (Xiu-Li had done so; instead of “no gambling” there was a long, multi-paragraph ordeal which might specify what couldn’t be done “for financial gain;” well, this wasn’t for “financial gain,” was it?) But it was a chance to socialize, and anywhere from ten to twenty people were there (she’d gone once; she’d gotten up to a full cherry pie and two mochas then lost steadily – but in the end, coming out one cupcake ahead on the session).

  She headed for the lounge where the SWG (Stooges Working Group) met every Friday night for End Of The Week Nyuks – about an hour of classic Three Stooges shorts. Anyone could stop in, regardless of rank, on any Friday; Threnody, Truhart, and Xiu-Li were longtime regulars, with Lobo, Stuart Marsh, Jashia Luna, and Eileen Foibles all recent repeaters. Takaguchi stopped by every five or six weeks; he said he had learned a lot of things about timing and tactics from studying the Stooges (and he had assembled the collection available in the library on WHEELER). The Captain never attended, of course, respecting the crew’s activities as off limits, but she suspected even he was a fan.

  The Stooge Working Group was usually no more than ten. As she entered the lounge, she could see Aria Threnody, Doctor Truhart, and Wolfredo Lobo – who gave her one quick look, long enough that she felt herself checking in with him (neat!) – and Stu Marsh, Eileen Foibles, and Jashia Luna (the “Brain Trust”).

  To her internal surprise (and some pleasure), a very worried Tania Manda and an uncomfortable looking Orlando Timbers were still there as well.

  She nodded at Tania, smiling. Tania jumped up and ran over to her, giving her a hug. “Space, Xiu-Li!”

  “I’m okay.”

  Everyone now gathered round and their, “Welcome back,” “Glad you’re back,” and so on made her tear up, but not actually cry. She was touched that Tania had come by – she was not an SW Group attendee, but news had spread. Xiu-Li had saved Tania’s life during WHEELER’s brush with the Organization of Planetary Projects (just “O.P.P.” at the time: no one had known what that meant then!) on Cape Of Velvet in January. There had been some awkwardness over the fickle Orlando, but this was life and death, and that was gone now (she and Orlando nodded and smiled; Xiu-Li was glad to see him, even if Orlando was uncomfortable to see her). Tania quickly excused them both and left.

  Xiu-Li caught Threnody looking at her (she had been studying the interaction of all three of them) and they exchanged a glance. They had become quite friendly since surviving the Qet Encounter six weeks earlier, and it had helped Xiu-Li a lot, especially after returning alive to discover that Tania and Orlando were “on” again.

  It was the sort of mess you needed friends for, to talk with.

  Well, she had them!

  Xiu-Li got some hot chocolate and a plate of oatmeal spiceraisin cookies and sat down to watch the Three Stooges with them.

  A board two meters long by a third wide lay on the tabletop when they entered the Briefing room for the 0800 Divisions Meeting the next day. It had a hole piercing one end, and had been cracked but not fully split in half by whatever had pierced it.

  It was the back of the bench Xiu-Li had been sitting on.

  She heard a gasp and saw Tania’s dark eyes on her. The look on the young comm officer’s face was amazement, as if she had never seen Xiu-Li before.

  Helmsman Enronn Debitts gave a low whistle and a look of respect to her; Phil Knight, a senior Tactical ensign, paled. She saw a rather somber Lieutenant Lucas Kimonetti looking at the board and shaking his head once, then looking at her and nodding; it took her a moment to recall that the ship’s Chef and quartermaster was also a senior lieutenant in the Tactical Division. She had been to just a handful of Divisions, mostly on technical operations, and Kimonetti had not been at any of those, but this meeting would have many security concerns.

  The four senior officers made their appearance last, Matisou with his giant tumbler of coffee. “Good morning, everybody.”

  “GOOD MORNING, SIR.”

  0800 Divisions Meeting was where each major division gave a report regarding significant and routine events of the previous 24 hours and an indication of events planned for the next 24 hours.

  The reporting order was roughly alphabetical: Engineering (mainly drives, ship and lifesystems), Medical (sick list), Quarter Master’s report (stores), Science (hazardous conditions, schedule of missions or observation updates), and Tactical (brig list, other concerns). Each division also gave a “called sick” report, checked against the official sick list.

  The idea was to give the captain an idea of the actual numbers of crew on watch and available for immediate response, as well as give each division some idea of what the others were doing. A fiber optic cable run by a Tactical Engineer (Ensign Chen, for example), meant periods of panel stations and other hardware and software system shutdowns on every deck and affected every division at some point or another, so a heads up at Divisions could be passed along and everyone could plan all of their work-arounds for the downtimes.

  Xiu-Li drifted during the early reports. She not slept well, and the board had shocked her a little. She calculated the shot would have hit her through, or just under, her heart: fatal for sure.

  Takaguchi caught her eye and gave her a slight nod. Well done.

  She nodded back. She noticed Aria Threnody kept looking at the board and then the tabletop. She’s upset, and angry. Tania kept all her concentration on her DPaT, logging the meeting record. She’s scared. Knight was almost asleep; Kimonetti was typically unreadable. Matisou and Takaguchi were both hard to assess. Truhart looked perturbed, but that was his normal professional (and personal) facial expression.

  I’m okay, and something is up.

  Takaguchi stood up and a graphic flashed on the wallscreen. “In the world of latest weapons, I report on the Heart LongStrike, a sniper weapon using new ultra-high power REA coil technology to power its electromagnetic system, and featuring special ammo that provides a plasma charge capability.”

  Xiu-Li sat up; interesting weapon, and the start of a cover story.

  Takaguchi pointed at the graphic of a sharp looking rifle. “Friction from the air ignites the outer jacket which burns an REA alloy core hot enough to turn it all into a plasma burst, directed for a certain distance further. This weapon is limited by distance and circumstance but it does essentially deliver a plasma charge from an e-mag weapon, which can still fire conventional e-mag ammo and neuro E.M. pulses as well.” He looked at them. “Comments?”

  Matisou was looking at her expectantly.

  “Sir?” asked Xiu-Li.

  Takaguchi nodded.

  “Any less ‘special tactic’ designs expected? One we might see around here? The plasma potential sounds fa
scinating.” Xiu-Li was serious (this would be a candidate to replace the magrifle), and Matisou looked pleased.

  Takaguchi nodded. “It does, Ensign Chen. It is also being worked on as a repeating weapon, more along the lines of a current standard magrifle, but that is still on the design deck.” He grinned. “We won’t see that for some time, however.”

  Matisou cleared his throat. “Heart’s a big hunting preserve, or so it seems. This would have private applications as a big game rifle.” He looked at Takaguchi. “They testing that baby here, Tak?”

  Takaguchi nodded. “There’s also a testing unit here, since Heart’s rather quiet and the special applications are needed, evidently more so than usual.” He sighed. “It is no secret that the Organization of Planetary Projects evidently has decided to act like anarchists, and the Fleet will be joining more military operations missions than we might have thought.” He looked at each of them. “O.P.P. has caused a lot of damage and loss of life. They are a very real and true and proven threat, and there is no way to ignore the threats they issue.” Takaguchi took a deep breath. “At the moment, the primary threat to peace is defined as the O.P.P. And weapons like the LongStrike will assist the InterWorld Group in anti-O.P.P. missions of sensitivity.”

  Matisou looked at them all. “We here on WHEELER will just have to keep our own eyes open when we go back to see what happened at 19373... and finish the survey so rudely interrupted.

  “As to this weapon, I was informed this morning by a lieutenant commander named Emory Weedles that an alcohol related live-fire incident may or may not have happened last night. The drunk in question was shooting at trash units, signs and benches. He wonders if anyone can assist him with a report, and was prepared to be cooperative.” Matisou frowned. “As to the spec report on that rifle... hmm, sounds too good to be true. Be fun to try one of those out sometime.”

  “Ah. I acquired one, thinking about the big game aspect.” Takaguchi kept his face impassive. “We’re going to spend time in the wilderness. It can be very helpful against angry, unreasonable critters. The Tac Q.R.T. team leaders will be clear-checked on it as well, sir.” He caught Xiu-Li’s eye. Xiu-Li also felt Threnody looking at her, but the Niv kept on dodging her eye.

  She looked at Matisou. “Am I back on duty, sir?”

  Matisou looked at Truhart, “I’d say Ensign Chen looks fully restored from the incipient hypothermia I was too overly concerned about.”

  Truhart nodded. “Agreed. But you can’t be too careful, Captain.” He gave her a kindly smile. “Be certain to pop by should you find you are thinking too much about all this.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Truhart looked over at Matisou, then Takaguchi. “Ensign Chen is available for watch and all duties of service.”

  Matisou looked around the briefing table. “Considering the status of this new technology, for the moment this event and the weapon are all classified. Once Commander Takaguchi adds it to the ship’s inventory, the weapon is in the open, but we’ll still try and preserve privacy.” He looked at Xiu-Li, and she nodded. Whatever was going on here, it was in need of very quiet investigation.

  They played it so low key that it wasn’t until she was starting the daily weapons log-in that Takaguchi mentioned it.

  They were alone in the arsenal room. Takaguchi was reviewing technical data on the new rifle while Xiu-Li checked that every magrifle, magpistol, ammunitions clip and other physical weapon was physically where it was supposed to be (even the officer’s magpistols on the shuttleRunners, during the day watch shipwalk, later).

  Takaguchi looked over. “They didn’t know you were missing yet.”

  She straightened.

  “We could see the clearing and the bench as we came in, so we went there first and did a Sci DPaT forensics run, documenting and collecting evidence out there, making enough show that nobody could risk shooting us.”

  Xiu-Li nodded.

  “Lieutenant Frumor was pleasant and unhelpful, while it seemed Lieutenant Commander Ypsin was quite unpleasant but unknowingly quite helpful, and had no idea what had happened – in fact, I believe they think they hit you, and you crawled away to die.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be joking, sir!”

  Takaguchi shook his head. “He said I could go out and look for you, or wait for you to get back from your walk. He was either extremely good at lying, confident in the assignment, or supremely clueless. Or all three. Since he was not overly concerned with your having been out for a walk for almost an hour, I had the feeling he thought he knew where you were, and no longer cared as much as when we spoke the other day, and he said he ‘was keeping close tabs’ on you.” He sighed. “Obviously the ship log will show you came back to us, so this isn’t exactly a secret or subterfuge, but the Captain sees no reason to tell anybody anything down there – he prefers to wait until some third party reviewer pulls it all together at some hypothetical future inquiry.”

  “Sir, I’ve done some weapons firing; I’ve heard different rounds go off. I’ve been thinking, and I recall a distinct essential kinetic report. That would not be the case with the new Longstrike. The traditional long range rifle would actually be most appropriate for this type of field mission, especially in the current political circumstances.” A drunk hunter might carry a rifle, but who gets access to a super high power miliplex-produced weapon?

  Takaguchi wasn’t answering.

  “So they’re buying us off.” Xiu-Li shrugged. “Okay. It’s a nice piece of ordnance to carry, and I’m back here alive to train on it.” She looked at him. “Do you believe it was accidental?”

  He said nothing, but his face spoke for him: No, it was not an accident.

  “So this was literally kill the messanger?”

  A silent, somber nod.

  “To make the message go away?”

  Takaguchi shrugged. “Think of some of the crew, ensigns, and lieutenants you have met since entering Earth Space University, and imagine the potential range of reactions they would have to information about hostile aliens. How they would try to manage it.” He sighed. “Supposedly, we need time to set up and prepare them better. And they don’t know you yet. They don’t know your level of devotion to service and duty – a full debrief for the record, and a simple order to keep quiet but be available for follow-ups would have probably done it.” He shook his head. “Had this stunt succeeded, the entire matter would have been altered, clouding details further and preventing restatement.”

  “And Lieutenant Commander Threnody?’

  He looked down, then back up to her. “Eventually. She’s neither a routine field ops officer nor a Tactical officer, so opportunities are more limited, but accidents can happen anywhere, and violent robberies do occur in certain settings or systems.”

  Xiu-Li took a deep, shaky breath. “Those fekkin’ –”

  After she was finally finished, Takaguchi looked impressed. “That was quite amazing. I haven’t heard some of those words since junior school.” He grinned. “Feel better?”

  “No sir, not about them.” Xiu-Li smiled. “Otherwise, yes, a bit.”

  “Keep in mind, that plan’s out the window. No one will be stupid or desperate enough to try it again, and it would be too coincidental to happen a second time.” He grinned. “No... they’ll keep us out on the line, and they will hope a mission somewhere attrits you out of their life.”

  Her mouth dropped open again.

  Takaguchi chuckled. “You didn’t think about that point? Our first mission against the O.P.P. on Velvet almost cost us about sixteen people, and the Captain would have been one of them. Back then, it didn’t mean much, but now we know who they were – I guess they’re potentially inept, as they failed that time, but really...”

  Xiu-Li slammed the ammo drawer shut. “SIR! All locked down and full stocked, SIR!”

  He sighed. “Acknowledged. Problem?”

  “If that’s what they’re waiting for, what was their fekkin’ hurry, sir? Because I s
ort of want to see how that happens myself, in my own time, especially after I lived through that fekkin’ Qet cookout!” Her fists balled, she stood there with tears of rage in her eyes. She blinked. “I’m sorry, sir. My anger... burns, but I expect it will cool.” She took a deep breath and relaxed. Then she looked down. “I can’t believe I just... just called it that.”

  “I notice the Universe has not responded; I don’t think that was too bad as a coping rant.” Takaguchi squeezed her shoulder. “Service vets have hard phrases and bad jokes about their past survived disasters.” He grinned. “We can’t run around making Toasts all day long, so we on occaision make a reference of a less than reverential nature.” He looked at the arsenal screen. “Not all the time, not in mixed company where it might really be badly misconstrued... but among colleagues and very close friends, however, it makes a point they understand.”

  She looked up. “That was pretty awful, though.”

  He looked at her, brow arched. “Really? I think the crew uses it as a rally phrase.”

  Xiu-Li blushed. “Everybody’s been great.”

  Takaguchi nodded. “You’re family. Nobody messes with family, and you’ve made sure the universe knows that a few times already yourself, thank Space.” He chuckled. “I think the Captain observed you’ve saved about half the bridge crew so far.” He gave her a cool glance of approval. “The percentage is a bit high, but the spirit’s on point.” He looked at the screen again. “I think we’ll store the new gear and ammo units together in lockdrawer 373. Please open it up, ensign?”

  “Aye, sir!”

  Xiu-Li couldn’t fall asleep.

  She could hear Aria’s even breathing across the way – they had taken to sleeping together in the same quarters on the two or three days a week their schedules of watch and other duties permitted. Every now and then they even slept in the same bed, and in one or two instances even a bit closer than that.

  Tonight Aria was in the chairbed foldflat, and Xiu-Li almost wished she wasn’t, so she could get up and go work at her comp – stop it!

  Xiu-Li took a slow, deep breath. Rush, rush, but getting little done. It was a sign of stress reaction. Spending more time getting less done.

  Another sign. Worry, worry...

  Afraid to fall asleep.

  Was that a sniffle?

  “Aria?” At whisper level.

  Dead silence – no breathing.

  “Can I help? I know you’ve been upset.”

  Dead silence.

  “Aria, that chair is too small for even me to crawl into, rationally. Please, will you come over here?”

  Silence; a breath taken.

  Xiu-Li began to shiver. “Aria, I-I’m, I’m sort of a-afraid to f-fall asleep,” she said softly. Xiu-Li heard the chair creak and then warm arms enveloped her from behind as Aria crawled onto her bed.

  Aria had wet cheeks, was trying not to sob; when she hugged Xiu-Li, she both relaxed and started crying softly again.

  Xiu-Li rolled over slowly and hugged Aria, losing herself. Home!

  The Niv woman took a deep breath and sighed. “I, I mean, umm...”

  “I must have scared you, everything that happened to me.”

  “You... are becoming Niv in your mastery of understatement.”

  Xiu-Li smiled. “Thanks.” The smile died out. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I had some problems after I saw the bench back at Divisions this morning. I wasn’t scared when it was happening, but today...” She swallowed. “I mean, everybody was great today – I guess word filtered out before Captain Matisou classified it... but, umm, it’s...” She sighed and shivered. “I just... sometimes I still miss them all so much.”

  Aria felt the shiver and rubbed Xiu-Li’s arms and back through the sleeptee. “I also miss them all – and most of the day I was both alternately furious, and retroactively terrified,” she said quietly. “It was –” Aria sighed. “That someone would choose that option... and it might have worked.” She looked at Xiu-Li. “I am not yet prepared to curtail your image meditation lessons, especially as I have grown more appreciative of your ‘beach’ image.”

  “Thanks.”

  They slept a lot closer that night, yet Xiu-Li still couldn’t relax as her restless mind kept asking the same thing:

  . . . so who could make a nanotranslator that knew Standard?

  Besides the Qet, who else was out there?