by B. V. Larson
But when she finally fell asleep again, I found that I couldn’t join her. She’d transferred nightmares from her head into mine.
Damn, how I hated those squids.
-14-
Tribune Deech was a hard-ass old battle axe—or at least that’s how the legionnaires in Varus thought of her. It wasn’t an entirely fair assessment. Sure, she had a stern face, and she was at least thirty-five physically, having stored her permanent record at that age. But the real problem was she’d come from the Iron Eagles.
For a Varus man, that meant trouble. Iron Eagles was one of the three most prestigious legions Earth maintained. They’d been the third to ever be commissioned, after Germanica and Victrix. Of the three, they had the reputation of being the best fighting unit humanity had yet to produce.
The trouble was one of culture. Varus was a tough outfit, too. We’d seen plenty of action, we weren’t afraid of anything, and we tended to get the job done—no matter what. The Iron Eagles, however, were much more by-the-book. They were elite, there’s no denying it, but they were more like eagle scouts when compared to the pirates who ran wild in Legion Varus.
As a result of this culture clash, Tribune Deech and I, well, we just didn’t often see eye-to-eye.
“Let me get this straight, Centurion McGill,” she said to me the next morning when I checked in about forty minutes late. “You left Central last night, taking our top scientist with you, and got lost in the city?”
“We didn’t get lost, not exactly, sir. We knew exactly where we were.”
“But you turned off your tappers. No one could locate you on the grid. Do you realize a full unit of techs and MPs spent the night combing the city for you two?”
Floramel, who was standing next to me, looked mortified. She stared at the puff-crete floor, humiliated and upset.
I was standing in a much jauntier pose. My beret was riding on my head, just where it ought to be, and my Legion’s wolf’s head patch was proudly displayed on my sleeve. After last night, when I’d finally gotten an inkling of what was in store for me on Epsilon Leporis, I was having a hard time taking Deech seriously.
Winslade was off to my right, wearing a smug expression. He liked watching me get a good dressing-down almost as much as Harris liked to see me get executed. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure why I ever gave that weasel a break.
“Dr. Floramel,” Deech said, turning toward her next. “Are you aware that you were breaking your oath? That your freedoms here at Central are dependent on always being traceable?”
Deech was calling her “doctor” because she was, after all, a foreign scientist. As the Rogue Worlders had never bothered with family names, “Dr. Floramel” was about the best thing she could come up with.
“Yes, Tribune. I apologize without reservation.”
“Indeed? Well… I think the real problem here is McGill. He’s led countless good people astray, if the stories are to be believed.”
“Whoa now,” I said, “don’t let idle gossip sway your opinion, Tribune. A lot of people tend to think my methods are unorthodox, but they have a hard time arguing with the results.”
Winslade jumped in, unable to restrain himself. “Tribune Deech? If I may be so bold, this man was under my command recently, and I feel I might be able to come up with an appropriate punishment for his insubordination.”
I glared at him. Winslade wanted to be my jailer? That was the last thing I wanted. He was kind of pissing me off, too. Where did he get off talking about administering punishments after what we’d pulled off together in the pits only yesterday?
Deech looked Winslade up and down.
“No,” she said at last. “He’s under Primus Graves’ command. He’ll handle it.”
“But, sir…?”
Deech was already walking away. She’d spun around on her heel, and she never looked back at us.
Like I said, she was a hard-ass. I had some respect for her, but not as much as I did for Graves or Drusus. That kind of thing had to be earned in my book.
“McGill,” Winslade hissed at me, “why didn’t you say something?”
“Uh… like what? You’re the one who jumped in and started talking.”
“What if Deech begins to pry? Not everything about this mission is well-known.”
I blinked at him, not getting the message entirely. “So what if Deech knows we’re going to Epsilon Leporis? Is it really that big of a secret?”
“Who told you about that, McGill?” Graves demanded from my right.
I turned to face him, and I manufactured a welcoming smile. “There you are, sir! I’m supposed to report to you, I guess. What are your orders?”
“My orders are for you to tell me who leaked classified information. Was it Floramel, here? She’s one step above a prisoner of war. Did you realize that, McGill?”
Floramel looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor. After living for decades under squid rule, she was terrified of authority figures.
“No, sir!” I said loudly. “It wasn’t her. Imperator Turov told me.”
Winslade made a gargling sound.
“You really should get that looked at, Primus,” I told him, tossing him a concerned glance. “We’re going into deep space soon, and I wouldn’t want to see you put down over a bad illness.”
Graves looked back and forth between us.
“Imperator Turov…” he said. “She’s also the one who authorized your exit from Central in the first place, isn’t that right, McGill? With our prized lead scientist in tow?”
“That’s right, Primus. She surely did.”
Winslade was glaring now, but I didn’t entirely get why. Turov outranked all of us. If she wanted to go off-script, well hell, she could get away with it. She wore more brass sunbursts than anyone present.
“Well then,” Graves said, “I’ll have to report this to Equestrian Drusus.”
That got everyone’s attention. Drusus was the man at the top of this pyramid we called Central. He wore three sunbursts, and he outranked everyone in the sector. You’d have to go to the Chiefs of Staff in Geneva to find someone of higher stature.
Winslade began ticking off his fingers then. “One… two… three levels? You’re really going to bounce this up that far, are you, Graves? Why can’t you handle a discipline issue yourself?”
Graves turned on him. They were both the same rank, in the same legion, but there was no love lost between the two.
“McGill is my problem, Primus,” Graves said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d exit gracefully from this situation.”
“Request noted,” Winslade said primly.
He then turned around on his heel and stalked away.
Graves and I looked after him.
“You know where that little man is headed, don’t you sir?” I asked.
“To Turov. He’ll rat on us, of course. Don’t worry, I’m well aware of his loyalties. What I don’t get is how you always get yourself into these things, McGill. Does Floramel here know what kind of rep you have on Earth?”
“Uh…”
“That’s what I thought,” he said, and he turned toward Floramel. “Ma’am? Do you know what a cad is? A scoundrel? A playboy? A philandering man-whore?”
“Oh, now,” I said, “that’s just not cool, Primus.”
“I…” Floramel said, looking concerned, “I have some idea. Not all of those terms are familiar, but are you saying Centurion McGill will tell a woman anything to procure sex?”
“Exactly! You’ve been warned. He’s trouble—and not just for you.”
I shook my head, flabbergasted, but Graves was already walking away. Left with Floramel eyeing me carefully, I turned to her with my best smile.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“How many women have you slept with since we last met?” she asked simply.
“Uh…” I said, not knowing how to answer that question. If I told the truth, which was that I wasn’t sure and had no exact count, she probably wouldn’t be
happy. But then again, I didn’t want to lie.
“I see,” she said, studying my face. “Graves spoke the truth. I’ve been deceived. Here on Earth, and back home on Rogue World.”
She turned away to go. I reached out a hand and gently stopped her. Leaning close, I spoke into her ear.
“I didn’t lie about other women,” I said. “You never asked about them. For what it’s worth, whatever we shared was real to me. We’ve experienced a lot, here and out among the stars.”
She looked down at my hand. “Am I under arrest, Centurion?”
“No, of course not,” I said, letting go of her instantly.
Floramel walked away, and just like that, I’d been dumped. I frowned after her and Graves. People could be so touchy sometimes.
“McGill?” Winslade asked, puffing as he came trotting back to me. “Tell Graves I have direct orders for him from Imperator Turov. She’s been trying to get hold of him on his tapper, but he isn’t answering. What did you do to make him pull a stunt like that? Unplugging is a move out of your playbook, not his.”
I gazed after Floramel, only half-listening.
“Don’t worry about it, Winslade,” I said over my shoulder. “Graves has already administered his punishment. Drusus won’t need to get involved—not now.”
“Really? What should I tell Turov?”
“Tell her she can untie the knots in her panties. This crisis is over.”
Grinning, Winslade worked his tapper.
“You didn’t…?” I asked him.
He nodded, lifting his tapper so I could see. “I took the liberty of recording your words and relaying them directly. Don’t worry, the imperator enjoys junior officers making public references concerning her undergarments. She really does.”
Winslade walked away, laughing. Whatever respect I’d gained for the man yesterday in the pit I’d lost all over again today.
-15-
Before I knew it, Legion Varus had shipped out. Nostrum was the name of our fast transport, and I was happy to see she was still in good shape after our last deployment.
Nostrum was a sleek, comfortable ship. Unlike the usual rented Imperial transport I’d experienced, she had an officially human-centered design. In comparison to older ships we’d lost in past campaigns like Corvus and Minotaur, Nostrum provided real comfort and an excellent simulated view of the stars.
Almost every chamber had a ceiling or a wall that appeared to show the cosmos as we passed by it all. That was a damned good thing on this journey, because we were headed pretty far out, and it felt good to be able to mark your progress.
“You see that one?” Natasha asked me about a month into the journey.
“That’s Rigel, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. We’re headed that way, and the blue-white giant seems to get bigger every day.”
She was right. Rigel was getting big. It already looked like a headlight at the far end of a tunnel. The blue shade was distinct, and I had to wonder how bright it would look when we finally reached Epsilon Leporis.
“Forty thousand times as bright as our star,” Natasha said in a dreamy tone.
There wasn’t any kind of technology, science, gizmo or natural wonder that didn’t turn this girl’s brain on. I admired that about her. She wasn’t just a thin girl with a pretty face, she was as smart as anyone I knew. Smarter even, maybe, than Etta.
But Etta had street-smarts part of me argued. Just thinking about my daughter made my expression falter.
“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, watching me.
“Just thinking about home. About my family.”
She reached up a hand and ran it over my back absently.
Kivi walked by right then, and she curled her lip into a disgusted twist. She made a little spitting sound, too.
Then she passed by, and she disappeared.
Natasha dropped her hand from my back. I missed her touch immediately.
“What’s wrong with her?” she demanded, staring down the passageway. “She’s got Carlos wrapped around her little finger. Isn’t that good enough for her?”
“Nope,” I said. “All men belong to Kivi—according to Kivi.”
“I deal with the other techs in our unit every day. She’s the only one who’s never been friendly.”
“That’s because you’re too skinny and too cute. That’s two strikes in her book.”
“Irritating woman.”
My gaze shifted back to the stars. “How long until we make planetfall?”
“Three weeks,” she said. “Long enough to get in one more round of training.”
I winced at that. I’d already died twice since we’d left Earth. Just thinking about the last time made my throat hurt. Absently, I rubbed at the base of my neck.
Staring at Rigel, I didn’t even notice at first that Natasha was staring up at me.
“You’re different,” she said.
“How do you mean?”
“You haven’t made a pass at me, and I’ve been standing here with you for nearly half an hour.”
“Uh… am I missing a bet, here?”
She laughed. “I didn’t say that.”
Natasha looked down and fooled with her tapper, but I could tell she was just avoiding my eye. She had my radar up now, whether that had been her intention or not.
Some people might think I’m about as subtle with a woman as the proverbial bull in the china shop. But that’s old news. I like to think I’ve become more refined in my methods these days.
“You still working with Floramel down in the shops?” I asked nonchalantly.
Her face snapped back up to gaze at me intently.
“It’s true, then!” she declared. “You are still involved with her. I’d heard you’d gotten together back on Earth, but I—”
Leaning over, I snaked a kiss. She pulled back in alarm at first, but then she let me do it, pressing her lips to mine briefly.
“What was that?” she asked when I went back to looking at the stars.
“Just something I felt like doing,” I said, “and no, Floramel and I didn’t last long. Even before we got aboard Nostrum, she became cold and distant. She’s married to her work, I think. Besides, I think it bothers her that I die all the time.”
“That bothers me, too. I don’t see how you frontline troops can keep your sanity. I haven’t died for years.”
I chuckled. “I have a feeling we’re going to fix that problem of yours right up when we get to this particular hellhole.”
“What did Floramel say about it? I know she’s been out there.”
“Yeah,… nothing good. I gather it’s hot and arid, with a smoky sky like orange flame.”
“I’ve studied the star. It’s aging, becoming bloated. It’s already swallowed the nearest planets. Think about how our sun would look it if had grown big enough to consume Mercury.”
I thought about that, and I didn’t find it encouraging.
That was the moment. I knew it was, from my vast experience. My arm lifted slowly, surely, up to slide over her shoulders.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to do—for both of us.
But I never got to make another move on her. Right about then, everything went to Hell in a hand-basket, as my grandma used to say.
Klaxons went off all over the ship. The deck heaved, settled, then the wall became the floor, and we slammed into it.
The image of Rigel and all her sister stars winked out, replaced by a blank panel of iridescent white.
“What’s happening?” I demanded, lifting Natasha and setting her on her feet.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were making an emergency exit out of our warp bubble.”
That threw me for a loop. In my considerable time spent traveling in space, warp-bubbles had always been safe—at least, for the ship itself.
The Alcubierre Drive moved our ship faster than the speed of light, not by applying terrific thrust, but rather by warping space in a bubble around the s
hip. Such a bubble, or field, had to be carefully maintained in order to keep the ship moving, and so my first suspicion was that our ship had suffered some kind of catastrophic systems failure.
Natasha had the same thought. “I have to get to the Engine rooms. I’m sorry, James.”
“Don’t be!” I told her. “Just move your butt!”
She did, and I watched her race all the way down the passageway until she vanished. Walking the other way, toward my unit’s module, I wondered why a woman’s tail-section looked better walking than it did running. It made no sense to me, but neither did a lot of the cosmos.
“McGill?” a voice called out of my tapper.
“Primus Graves? What’s happening, sir?”
“We’ve been knocked out of warp. Tune into command chat.”
As a ground-pounder, I normally kept the officer-only command chat channel turned off. During Nostrum’s long flight, I’d have been treated to an endless stream of techno-babble from the flight crew if I hadn’t.
Obeying Graves, I soon got an earful.
“We’re completely out of warp. Radiation has stabilized.”
“Have we got a breach?”
“Negative. No venting detected by the AI.”
Those first voices had been crewmen, guys I didn’t know. But then a voice broke in that I did recognize.
“This is Tribune Deech. Captain, can you give me an update? What is our situation?”
“Tribune—I don’t understand it. All systems on the drive checked green, but all of a sudden, it was like we hit turbulence.”
“Could it be a pocket of mass?” she asked. “A comet, or some other chunk of dark matter between the stars?”
“I don’t know, sir. The ship’s warp bubble should plow through or around that. Only a really big mass, like a planet, could do this—but in that case, we’d all be dead.”
“Captain, it’s clear that we hit something. Or that our engines failed us. What’s your best theory?”
The Captain hesitated. “It’s only a thought, but it seems like we hit another warp bubble.”
“Really? How would that be possible?”
“Another ship passing through the same space at the same time. A one-in-a-quadrillion shot I know, but that’s what it seems like.”
