by Evan Currie
There were a few other Marines working out as well, which was almost always the case when the Odysseus was under way. Her Marine contingent was a battalion equivalent, with five hundred soldiers and their attached support. On a ship the size of the Odysseus, that sometimes managed to feel understaffed, but it was five hundred more than was normally assigned to any Blue Navy ship as a matter of general policy.
The Confederation had enough ship problems as it was. Rather than add to the stress of building a new fleet, it had been decided that Marines would ride with the Black Navy full-time rather than just hitch a lift with a ship when their detachment had an assignment. Much of the time, she felt superfluous to the good and proper running of the ship, something she hated with a passion, so she worked out.
If her Marines were needed, they would really be needed. With support several light-years away at any given time, that was the way things ran now.
Conner’s job was to ensure that they were ready when needed and, sometimes more importantly, didn’t cause too much trouble when they weren’t. The second part of that was the harder of the two by far.
She’d taken third shift for herself as of late because she had been trying to track down a problem that had quietly made itself known. Some of her Marines were causing issues during the night, and she wanted to step firmly on that before it got back to the captain.
So far, it was nothing big, but small problems turned into large ones if left unchecked.
One of her Marines marching up to her with a look on his face like he wanted to break open the weapons locker was not a sign that she’d been able to check the problem.
“What is it, Gunny?” she asked with a sigh as she grabbed the towel from the machine she’d been using and started to wipe off.
“Colonel. Chief Dixon has two of our men in the brig for, and I quote,” the gunny snapped, “‘befouling the sanctity of his engineering deck.’”
Conner winced, rubbing her temple gently as she considered that for a moment.
“Did they puke during transit?” she asked, confused. She could see making them clean it up if they had, even making them use their own toothbrushes, though that would be a little extreme to her mind. But the brig was pushing it.
“No Colonel.” The gunny shook his head. “Someone scattered slop and scraps from the commissary across the engineering decks. Chief thinks it was two of ours. Since he was talking about keelhauling, I decided I’d best bring this to you immediately.”
Conner grumbled as she grabbed her uniform tunic and rolled it on over her workout shirt, sweat be damned.
“If he’s got evidence on them, they’re going to wish he had keelhauled them before I got there,” she gritted out. “Navy/Marine pranking is one thing, but that is a step too damn far, Gunny.”
“Yes ma’am.” The gunny fell into step with her as she stalked out of the gym. “However, these two aren’t the sort I’d expect to be involved in this sort of thing.”
“I don’t expect any of my Marines to be involved in this sort of thing,” she replied, “so we’ll see what evidence the chief has first, and it better be good. If it is, those Marines are off this ship, Gunny. They can damn well wait on Ranquil for the next ride that has room for a couple of useless tools.”
“Yes ma’am.”
► Dixon was glowering at the Marines sitting glumly in the small brig space across from him, idly picking at the neck seal on a vacuum, when the colonel marched into the security office with a gunny in tow. For the first time in over twenty minutes, he looked away from the Marines, rising to his feet and coming to attention.
“Colonel.” He greeted the stern-faced woman who paused only to glare at the pair of Marines before turning back to him.
“I’m told you have a problem with my Marines,” she said simply. “I assume you have them on video?”
It was a safe assumption. The whole ship was monitored, especially the engineering decks, but Dixon grimaced.
“Every camera on the deck went out at the same time,” he growled, glaring daggers at the Marines. “Before it happened, we have video of them entering the commissary, however, and you can see the state of their uniforms for yourself.”
Conner raised an eyebrow and walked over to look at the two Marines that she now realized were looking quite bedraggled. They were covered in culinary scraps, their tan shipboard BDUs looking like they’d been through a food fight with a particularly skilled fourth-grade class. Her lips curled up involuntarily, and she sneered at them.
“You two better have a good explanation for this, or I’ll be considering the chief’s suggestion.”
The two Marines, who had both snapped to their feet and attention when they saw her, practically started falling over each other as they tried to explain.
“Marines!” the gunny snarled. “You will desist talking over one another like children, or I will arrange to leave you alone with the master chief for a few minutes with the recorders off. Do you get me?”
The two Marines looked over the gunny’s shoulder at the master chief, who was glaring openly at them, his arms crossed across his chest.
They shut up.
“Now,” the gunny went on, “one at a time.”
The two exchanged looks before one, the corporal, stepped forward. “Gunny, Colonel . . . Chief. We really don’t know what happened, we swear. We were heading in for a coffee before we were due to report to the deck chief to do daily maintenance on gear when Lance Corporal Jan let out a yell and startled me. I turned to see what happened and was hit in the side of the face by . . . well, sirs, ma’am, I don’t know what. Next thing we knew, we were hauling ass for cover, with food and scraps raining down around us.”
“And you ran all the way to my engineering deck?” the master chief asked incredulously.
“I don’t think we got that far, Chief, honestly.” The corporal exchanged another glance with the lance corporal. “Maybe?”
Conner looked at Dixon. “Is it possible, Chief?”
The master chief looked ready to spit nails, but he nodded slowly. “Possible? Yes ma’am. Likely? No. Still, with the cameras disabled, it means someone knew what they were doing. I don’t know how anyone could have rigged anything to spread food and scraps that far, though, Colonel. I’ll have a team scour the commissary and see if we can find any evidence to support this . . . story.”
“You do that,” Connor said firmly, eyes squarely focused on the two Marines. “In the meantime, I’ll be taking my Marines. You’ll know where to find them if you need them.”
The chief did not look happy to lose his two guests, but he nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
The gunny got behind the two Marines. “Marines! Right face! And march two, three . . .”
Conner watched the gunny march them out before turning to the chief. “Loop me in on the investigation. Either two of my Marines overstepped their boundaries rather significantly, or someone targeted them for a rather elaborate prank and left them to take the blame. Either way, I want to know, Chief.”
“Yes ma’am. Rather curious myself,” the master chief said grimly. “Privately, between us, ma’am, I doubt it was them. I checked their files while waiting for the gunny to go get you, and neither one could have taken down our cameras.”
She looked at him, mildly amused. “So what was with picking at the seals of the vac suit?”
He shrugged with a bit of a smug look. “Didn’t see any downsides to that, really. If they’re guilty, I scare the crap out of them. If they’re not, I still scare the crap out of them. They should be scared of me, ma’am. It’s the natural order of things.”
Conner shook her head, waving idly as she started to take her leave.
“As you were, Master Chief. Remember to loop me in.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
► The lights rose as first watch approached and the ship’s day began.
Eric was drying his hair as he stepped out of his bathroom and noticed the shift. He knew that they’d be a
rriving in Ranquil orbit in short order, but he’d have more than enough time for a meal and a couple of hot cups of coffee before he started the day properly.
As he got himself dressed, Eric glanced over the ship’s logs for the night before. Most of them were the normal and routine matters of running the Odysseus, and he skipped over anything color-coded with gray. He’d skim those later, just to be sure, but for the moment, they were of little interest.
The lines in black denoted unexpected maintenance issues, but nothing that would impede normal operations. He skimmed those a little closer, but in general let them go by as well. There were no red lines, which was good because if anything that threatened the ship’s safety had happened and no one bothered to wake him, Eric wouldn’t be starting his day in a good mood.
The blue line caused him to pause and look a little closer. It seemed like a minor discipline issue, so he would leave the incident to ship’s security and the Marines. At some point, he’d make a point of checking with Colonel Conner just to find out what had happened, but conflict was inevitable when you mixed Marines with Navy, even if the Black Navy wasn’t fully composed of Navy personnel in the strictest sense.
Being a Marine himself, in spirit if no longer in fact, Eric was well aware of just how far “good-natured” jokes could go before anyone really realized it.
That was the only line of any interest in the log, so he closed the display with a flick of his hand and grabbed his uniform jacket on the way to the door, swinging it on as the door clanked open automatically, then shut behind him with a bang and the thunk of the airlock being sealed.
► “Captain on the bridge!”
“As you were,” Eric said to the crew who had stiffened to attention at the announcement. He passed his station and toured the bridge briefly, looking over the status of each station in turn.
“Steph . . .” He came to a stop by the pilot’s pit, a sunken section of the deck that lay directly in front of the command station, affording both captain and pilot direct and identical images as the main viewer without putting either in the way of the other.
“Raze,” Steph said, nodding to him. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Eric replied. “Everything in place?”
“Humming like a live wire,” Steph replied. “Just like it’s supposed to.”
Eric looked up to the main screen, which was showing an image of Ranquil. “What’s our magnification?”
“Hundred times,” Steph answered, without looking up from where he was tinkering with some of the control settings. “We’re backing off steady now, decelerating hard. Be in orbit within the hour.”
“Thanks,” Eric said as he turned toward the signals station. “Anything from the planet?”
“Standard greetings, sir,” the duty ensign answered.
“Reciprocated, I assume?”
“Yes sir.”
Eric nodded, walking back to his station and settling into place. “Good work.”
The ensign glanced over at him and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
Eric didn’t bother clarifying that his words had been meant for the whole bridge; the rest of the crew had been with him long enough to know that. He looked over the logs briefly, then opened up his ongoing files to work on while they were waiting for the Odysseus to enter Ranquil orbit.
He hadn’t gotten too far when the signals ensign looked up sharply. “Signal from the planet, sir.”
“To my station,” Eric said instantly. He wasn’t sure what it was about but knew that Tanner wasn’t likely to be so impatient as to be unable to wait an hour.
The admiral appeared on his screen, lines of concern etched deeply in the normally smooth face. The man had aged a lot since Eric had first met him, his diminutive stature belied by the authority he carried.
“What’s happened, Admiral?” Eric asked without preamble. Something had to be up for the normally genial man to be as concerned as he was.
“We just lost contact with a new colony, Cap . . . Commodore,” the admiral said, pronouncing the unfamiliar title carefully. “I have dispatched a squadron already, but I believed that you would like to know as the last time a system went dark like this it was—”
“The Empire,” Eric said softly.
“Yes,” Tanner said.
“We will head out immediately and provide backup to your squadron,” Eric said. “My regrets for this visit being so short.”
“I wish that we would have had a long, peaceable time to converse as well, Commodore,” Tanner said wearily. “However, it seems not to be in our fates.”
“Fate is another word for surrender, Admiral,” Eric said. “I don’t believe in either. I’ll see you when we get back.”
“I will be waiting, Commodore. Good luck. You do believe in that, do you not?”
“The good kind? Of course. It’s the bad kind that’s a myth, Admiral.”
Rael nodded and cut the transmission as Eric rose to his feet.
“Signal the squadron,” he ordered. “We’ve got an Imperial incursion in a Priminae system. Priminae squadron is en route, but I want to be there just in case.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the signals officer said, sending off the orders.
“Helm, bring us about,” Eric ordered. “Best time to the heliopause. New destination system has been sent to your station. Looks like we’ll deal with our schedule another time.”
“Aye aye, Raze,” Steph answered, checking the computer before he started calculating a best time course to the heliopause that would put them on a jump course to the system in his computer. “Approximately three hours to jump, at full cruise.”
“Give me full military power,” Eric ordered.
“Full military power, aye.” Steph recalculated the course. “Forty-two minutes to jump.”
► The nine ships of the Odysseus Task Force moved swiftly as new orders flew between them. They angled away from Ranquil, their reactors beginning to hum as more and more power was tapped and sent to the warp drives. In tight formation, they accelerated to full military power, a flash of Cerenkov blue marking the point they crossed the speed of light and continued to accelerate out of the system.
Behind them, in a surprisingly small office in the military center of Ranquil, a slight-statured man sighed and wished them well.
A younger Rael Tanner would not have wanted to see the day he wished violence on someone, and yet somehow he couldn’t keep the sentiment from his mind as he thought about the system that had gone dark.
In any case, he was no longer that same person. For better or worse, he was the Rael Tanner of today. Admiral of the Priminae fleets, survivor of two Drasin assaults, and . . . a man who had to watch as people he called friends set out to do violence on his behalf.
He did not know how to deal with that.
Perhaps it was better that way.
CHAPTER 6
Priminae Colony Space
► Captain Druel Piers rose to his feet as the transition alarms sounded through his vessel, the Zeu. He firmly ignored both the urge to vomit and the sound of others not being able to resist it themselves.
“We have entered the target system. All ships have reported in.”
He grunted, waving the information away. He didn’t need to know that the transition had gone well; that was the assumption. He was more interested in what had gone wrong in system.
“Put the current passives up on the screens.”
“Yes Captain,” his second answered. “We are still compiling data, but here is what we have scanned so far.”
Coming into a new system via the Terran’s transition system meant arriving mostly blind. They had some basic long-range scans, particularly for large gravity sources, but only in the immediate region of the arrival point. Beyond that, they were limited to what they started picking up as soon as their scanners and computers completed the transition.
The screens lit up with the expected information. Large signals like the local star, planets, and a few planetoids big e
nough, or known enough, for the computer to recognize instantly populated the image. More items were filling in quickly as the computer caught up to the change of venue.
“We are picking up a localized emergency signal, Captain. It’s highly degraded by the jamming, but it is from the colony,” the signals officer announced.
Druel closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.
The colony still existed if they were getting an active signal, degraded or not. The emergency signal was an FTL system, so he knew that it was still intact.
“Look for the source of the jamming,” he ordered after a moment.
“Yes sir. We’re vectoring it, but our group is too close to properly triangulate.”
“Spread us out, Pol,” he said as he turned to his second in command.
Pol Kinn nodded, issuing the orders to send their task group on diverging vectors so they could get enough parallax on the jamming signal to lock in a central location.
Druel settled in for the long wait. He could achieve instant satisfaction by pulsing the system, but that would just announce his presence to anyone with scanner capacity, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that just yet. Gravity scanners would inevitably pick up the mass of his task group. It was pretty difficult to miss multiple planetoid-size gravity fields showing up in a system, even if they were as tightly controlled as the ones his ships would be projecting. But unless any opposition actively looked, he and his should have time before the reveal.
On the screens, the system information continued to fill out as the passive scanners worked tirelessly in the background. They now had information that showed the colony was untouched as of seven hours earlier and had a ship resting in orbit.
“Do we have positive confirmation that the ship in orbit is the Tetanna?” Druel asked.
“No Captain,” his signals officer responded. “It matches in general configuration, but we do not have resolution yet to confirm, and no codes have been received.”
