“Complete the mission given to you. If it is the Atlantis ship, and your crew finds it, then Orloza would not be able to ignore your concerns.”
Morgan straightened his jacket.
“Are you suggesting, then, that I do as I’m told and not get involved with this Axis Combine business and focus my attentions on a ship that may never reveal itself again?”
“Considering your goals and desires, I would say that is your best chance.”
“Okay. Seazza, prepare a secure message to Carson Mach. I have some motivational instructions to give. From now on, you’re on my team for this mission. Delegate your usual tasks to the rest of your department. We’ve got some work to do.”
“Right away, Admiral.”
Despite her reserved nature about his earlier question, Morgan could see that spirit within her, even if it was only shown in micro-expressions. He felt it too. The desire to act, affect his destiny.
One way or another, he would find this damned ship and take control of the CWDF before the Axis Combine could take advantage.
Chapter Twelve
Mach always hated the long journeys; it made him itchy for trouble. It had taken four solid ST days at full LD speed, which wasn’t exactly amazing. Though they were flying about in a beat-up old Phalanx-E. The craft only had a maximum speed of sixty-one HPL, and that was with his and Ernesto’s modifications.
Mach was sitting in his captain’s berth, nursing a headache that reminded him of the old days when he and Adira went a little crazy, both on the booze, and on each other. He still had the scars on his shoulders and back to remind him of her unorthodox approach to sex.
That wasn’t the reason why he had busted her out of prison—well, perhaps not the sole reason, but given her frosty reception during the journey, where she had barely said a word to him, he doubted they’d fit back together like a well-worn pair of gloves. But then that was one of the many reasons he liked her.
Adira was unpredictable, and that made her exciting to be around, even when she was being unresponsive. He thought that perhaps it was just a hangover from her time in solitary. That would certainly be an appropriate assessment for anyone other than her.
He lay back on his bed and let his body rest. He always felt more fatigued when he was doing nothing but traveling in a tin can for days on end. Still, at least Babcock was kind enough to exile himself within reach.
The crazy old hermit could have done something really stupid and taken up residence on one of the abandoned vestan breeding worlds. Now that would have been an interesting journey.
Outside of the berth’s door, Mach could hear Sanchez’s hearty laugh reverberating around the bridge. It was followed by Lassea’s nervous giggles. Ernie was certainly the charmer, and if anyone could get the stick out of her ass, it was he.
Danick, on the other hand… Mach doubted that even Adira could get him to open up and go with the flow. But that was okay; the boy would have to at some point if he were to survive the mission.
Mach took a silver pharmaceutical cylinder from the leg compartment of his worse-for-wear GraphTech fatigues and jabbed the end into his upper arm. The point of contact froze, sending tingles down the length of his forearm and fingers.
He sighed and closed his eyes as the painkilling effects of the drug kicked in. He would sleep for a day, and when he woke up, his muscles would be repaired and revitalized and he’d be ready for whatever was waiting for him on Minerva. God knows what kind of crazy defenses Babcock had set up.
Despite Morgan’s assurances, there was no way of knowing whether Babcock would change his mind and decide that living in the ass-end of nowhere wasn’t actually preferable to another crazy mission with Carson Mach.
Outside, the laughs continued until they became background echoes, mixing with the hum of the ship’s LD drive. And then there was no noise at all, the drug sending Mach into that sweet, deep sleep.
***
A thunderous explosion woke Mach with a start. His body slammed against the floor, his head striking the support post of his bed. His vision blurred and his head swam as though he’d downed an entire bottle of Gasmulch.
The banging continued louder. He put his hands over his ears and managed to crawl to his knees. He thrust out a hand and clutched the frame of the open door. Smoke billowed in from the central corridor.
A black shape darted past him to the stern of the ship.
Danick suddenly appeared before Mach, knocking him back into his berth.
“Sir, there’s been an explosion!” Danick said, his face slick with sweat and deep bags under his eyes.
The drugs still in Mach’s system made everything sound as though it were wrapped in cloth. Danick seemed to vibrate before Mach. He shut his real eye and focused with his prosthetic; the organ’s chips stabilized his vision and fed him a number of metrics, the main being the stern of the ship was at least fifty times hotter than it should be.
“Sir, did you hear? There’s been an explosion.”
“I was having the best dream,” Mach drawled, his throat dry and his words croaking. “There was this girl; she wore the tiniest skirt and had legs that went up to—”
“Dammit, sir, you’re not listening to me. We’re all going to die!”
Mach shook his head to clear the fog. “So? You gonna do something about it, boy?”
The boy stammered his protests as his eyes grew increasingly wider. “I… but… sir… a proximity mine… it…”
Mach pushed him out into the corridor. “I’m going back to bed, Danick. You have captaincy; you deal with this and wake me up when we’re not on fire. Be quick, though. There’s a good lad.”
With that, Mach slammed the door shut and smiled as Danick screamed with panic. Mach moved to his bed and sat down, dropping his head to his chest. He massaged the crick from his neck and wished someone would turn off the bloody alarms.
A few minutes later Adira staggered into his berth, her face covered in soot, her fatigues smoking and scorched. She slumped onto the bed next to Mach.
“You really ought to have dressed in something more comfortable,” Mach said.
“This is comfortable.” Adira scowled. “I like the feel of superheated plasma burning through my clothes. Don’t you?”
Mach shrugged. “Not my favorite experience.”
“But getting us all killed at the hands of two rookies is?” She turned to face Mach then, giving him her ‘I’m going to kill you slowly’ look.
“Trial by fire never did me any harm. How are those kids supposed to learn to survive if they don’t face some real peril now and then, eh? Simulation machines, no matter how convincing, just aren’t enough.”
Another loud roar erupted from the stern of the ship, rocking Mach and Adira together, the impact sending them sprawling to the floor. Adira moved first, mounting Mach so that she sat astride his chest, a knife in her hand already at his throat.
“Nice to see your reactions haven’t dulled in those years of solitary.”
The tip pressed further into Mach’s skin, teasing it to the breaking point.
“Sounds like your pup found the balls to jettison the primary fuel rod container.”
“Aye, the temperature is going down. Looks like he busted a hole in the structure. The vacuum’s put out the fire. Smart kid.”
“All well and good, but we’re down to auxiliary,” Adira said. “How are we going to find your precious ship with only five Ls of fuel?”
“You really need to have some faith, my love. Have I ever let you down?”
“Constantly.”
She spun away from him, rising to her feet and pocketing the knife.
The shuddering of the craft had stopped. The door flew open with Danick peering in; his clothes were wet with sweat and blackened by the smoke. “Sir, we did it. We put out the fire in the LD containment unit. We survived Mr. Babcock’s proximity mine.”
Mach nodded a few times. “Not bad, kid, not bad. Now bring us into atmosphere and hail Babco
ck. Oh, and go to fusion motors unless you want to L-jump us right into Minerva’s crust.”
“Oh crap…” Danick said, spinning on his heels and sprinting to the bridge to bring the ship out of its LD jump.
Mach stood up and eyed Adira. “See? Have some faith. This is shaping up to be a decent crew after all. Let’s go get strapped in and prepare to meet our dear friend Kingsley.”
Adira slipped past him and disappeared into the corridor, the words, “I hate you, Mach,” echoed back at him, bringing a wide smile to his face.
She did still like him.
***
With a little expert help from Ernie, the JPs brought the ship in to land just a dozen meters away from the wreckage of what was Kingsley Babcock’s home.
Mach peered at it out of the viewscreen. “What a crap hole.”
“I’ve lived in worse,” Ernie said, his voice low with a drawl that sounded like he gargled with fusion oil. “I once spent three ST years on an unnamed jungle planet, living in nothing but a dirt hole with leaves for a roof. Looks to me like Kingsley’s got himself a bit of paradise all to himself down here, what with his domes and all. Nothing on here to hunt, though, apart from hyperthermia in the winters and rotten lungs in the summer.”
Lassea looked up at him with wonder before snapping out of her distraction. “Um, we’re good to go when you are, Cap… I mean, Mach.”
“Right, to the airlock, then. Ernie, make sure it’s closed behind me. I’ll bring Babcock in by myself, make this quick and easy.”
“You got it,” the big hunter said, lumbering behind Mach and shutting the airlock door behind him as Mach stepped through after putting on his EVA.
Mach checked his suit and helmet; the ship came supplied with two atmosphere suits that generated both air and gravity. The new designs were much improved on the old versions. Gone were the robotic-like bulky exteriors to be replaced by sleek almost skin-fit GraphTech Adaptive material that would naturally adjust its composition to suit the temperatures of the wearer. Even the helmets were small, essentially a tight-fitting cap with a transparent cloth for the face and a breathing grill that was flexible enough to allow natural speech.
Checking his comm connection on his smart-screen, Mach gave the order to open the external airlock door. With a hiss the ramp lowered and Mach stepped out, right into the barrel of a heavily armored disruptor rifle.
Chapter Thirteen
The wind howled, blowing dust into Mach’s face mask, yet the rifle didn’t move a millimeter, its wielder remaining as calm as a statue.
“Mach, you okay?” Danick inquired over the comm.
“Just fine, kiddo, you guys stay in there. I’ve got this.”
Mach lifted his hands up to show that his palms were empty. “Hey, Kingsley, old pal, long time no see.”
“Name, rank, number,” Babcock said emotionlessly as though Mach was just some random Joe who had turned up out of nowhere.
“Kingsley, it’s me, Mach. You got the message from Beringer, right? We’re here to pick you up.”
The disruptor rifle crackled as its energy core heated up.
“Name, rank, number,” the old man said again.
It seemed the old guy had lived in quite a rough state. His skin was gray and sallow, his cheeks sunken so that his face looked skeletal beneath the wiry gray stubble and wild locks of patchy white hair.
The threadbare suit he wore had more holes in it than the Phalanx-E.
Mach sighed and complied with his question. “Carson Mach, unranked, unaffiliated. Kingsley, it’s me, look! I’ve got Sanchez and some other crew with me in the ship.”
“Huh. You best follow me inside,” he said. The old man turned and headed through a thick plastic curtain into a ramshackle dome that looked handmade.
Inside, Mach could hear better now that the sandstorm wasn’t blowing into his face. Kingsley placed the rifle against an old metal workbench; upon its surface were strewn dozens of small mechanical parts and half-constructed gadgets of some kind or another.
In numerous rows, running lengthways down the dome, small green plants were growing. The humidity meant the dome’s panes were running with moisture, creating an almost tropical atmosphere. Mach realized Kingsley had enough food here to last him for months on end. It was all a very impressive setup; especially the two little droids that were attending to the vegetable garden.
“Are you coming through?” Kingsley said from a door at the end of the dome. Mach followed inside, expecting to walk into another weapon but was relieved when he saw his old friend now sitting on a tatty chair as he rifled through a pile of printed paperwork.
A small drone with numerous articulated limbs hovered about Kingsley’s head, chirping something Carson didn’t understand. Whatever it was, it made Kingsley laugh. He and the drone turned to regard Mach.
“What’s so funny, old man?”
“I’m sorry, Mach,” Kingsley said. “Squid has a strange sense of humor… and, after all these years, I’ve kind of gotten used to it. Having someone else here is… peculiar.”
“Almost as peculiar as the reasons why I’m here.”
“I know,” the older man said. He picked out a particular leaf of paper and handed it to Mach. “Here, thought this might be of use to you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ve not forgotten how to read Salus Common in these intervening years, have you? Perhaps taken a few too many stims and burned up your brain cells.”
“I see that you’re still a sarcastic douche after all this time,” Mach said, sharing a smile with his old friend.
Mach put his attention to the piece of paper and started to read. It was a star map and an algorithmic set of coordinates with some of Kingsley’s scrawled handwritten notes. “I can’t read your writing,” Mach said. “Are you sure you didn’t retrain as a doctor while you were hiding out here?”
“What would I practice on, plants?”
“Droids… you seem to have enough of them around this place.”
“Plenty more in places you can’t see.”
“Yeah, like your friggin’ proximity mines. How’d you stealth them?”
Kingsley stood up and rubbed his lower back. “I’m sorry, Mach, I had forgotten they were even there. I had my drones up there alert me to your arrival, but it’s been so long since anyone has come here that it had slipped my mind that they were still floating about in orbit. Was there much damage?”
Mach shrugged, his attention still on Kingsley’s report. “Nah, just lost our main fuel cell. We’ve got auxiliary left. But…” He pointed to the rough sketch of a location on the piece of paper. “If you think we’re going there, you’ll likely have more luck getting this old wreckage there. We won’t have the fuel. Besides, what’s so special about this place?”
“It’s why Morgan and Beringer asked me to join you. I think I’ve figured out where this supposed Atlantis ship might be.”
“What? How?”
“Why don’t I tell you on the way to Feronia?”
“That’s not the location of these coordinates,” Mach said, knowing that Feronia was a couple of days L-jump from here, which was the opposite end to the place marked on Kingsley’s report.
“You’re still sharp,” Kingsley said with yet more of that sarcastic tone. “We’re going to Feronia to get a decent ship. How else do you think we’ll travel into contested space and survive? I hear the shipbuilders have a new experimental model they’re working on.”
Mach raised an eyebrow. “And how’d you know about that?”
“This old man has ways and means. Now come on, if we’re doing this, we better not dally around here. We’ve got a new ship to procure… somehow. And I’ve got some information from Beringer that you might find useful.”
“Grab your stuff and let’s go, then,” Mach said.
“I’ve got everything I need,” he said, grabbing his stack of papers and nodding to Squid. “Lead the way, Mach.”
The two men walked thro
ugh the dome. Kingsley stopped and snatched up his modified SamCore PXP disrupter. “This old girl’s been with me this whole time. Never let me down.”
Mach stopped and shook his head. “I doubt you’ve had much shooting to do out here. I guess we’re the first people to turn up here since you arrived.”
“A man can still keep his skills sharp with some target practice. I’ve machined the barrel on this to increase its accuracy. I’ve redrilled the disruption chambers and amplified the signal using a series circuit booster. There won’t be a more powerful PXP in the Salus Sphere, you can rest assured of that.”
“Can that Frankenrifle magically shoot eros out of its chambers? Because given what I had to pay to get Sanchez and Adira out of the clink, we’re gonna need to find some funds from somewhere if we’re to get a ship capable of travelling and surviving in the contested sector.”
“I’m sure you’ll improvise something,” Kingsley said with a grin that brought back some of that old roguish charm and wit that Mach had once grown accustomed to. He’d missed the mad hacker.
When the two men boarded the battered Phalanx-E, Mach had introduced him to the crew and the JPs. They were all sitting in the mess, sharing a coffee and eating some of the CWs least-worst precooked meals.
Danick seemed to have calmed down after his mini-heroics.
Lassea sat next to Adira. The assassin was showing the young girl how to twirl a combat knife. Adira gave Kingsley a simple nod and brought her attention back to Lassea as though disinterested with the whole affair, but then perhaps she was. Adira wasn’t really her fully functioning self unless she was involved with some kind of violent or shady activity. Mach was sure she would have all that and more sooner rather than later. He would certainly need her on Feronia.
Sanchez entered the mess with the grace of a panther, his footsteps making no noise despite the heavy boots he wore. The others, including Mach and Kingsley, turned to look up at him.
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