Point of Origin (War Eternal Book 4)

by M. R. Forbes

  12

  Germaine stood waving to them from the far edge of the uppermost corner docking arm, near the final airlock that would join ship to shore. He was far enough away that Steven couldn't see the starship he had brought him to from his position further down. All he could see was the side of a larger salvage ship, one that had taken a fair amount of damage during the battle against the Tetron, and had somehow managed to make it back to port alive. There were crews in exo-suits hovering around the outside of it, welding metal plates back on and working to re-pressurize parts of the ship punctured during the fighting.

  "That's our signal," Cormac said, shouldering the pack he had organized in the ten minutes since he had insisted on joining Steven on the mission.

  Steven wasn't sure what was in it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Guns, grenades, and what else? Mitchell had told him enough about the one he called Firedog that he was a little uncomfortable in the man's presence. The mask had made him even less comfortable.

  Cormac started forward. Steven and John trailed behind him, keeping their heads down and trying to look inconspicuous to the few technicians coming and going from the salvager. They had their own work to do, so they didn't pay the three of them too much mind.

  As they moved down the corridor, the sight of the salvager gave way to another ship, the one that Germaine wanted them to take. The first thing Steven noticed about it was the overall size. It was tiny. He couldn't believe someone had slipped hyperspace engines onto something so small. The second thing he noticed was that it was ugly. Fins and short wings poked out from all over the place, as though it had been stapled together from a hundred different atmospheric fighters.

  "The Lanning," Germaine said as Steven reached him. "Mr. Tio's personal starship."

  "You want us to go in this?" John asked.

  Germaine laughed. "Look, it has a couple of guns hidden in the belly, and it's maneuverable as hell, but it isn't much use to the overall war effort. Isn't that what you were looking for, Admiral?"

  Steven nodded. "Yes. I just wasn't expecting something this size. I didn't even know you could make a hyperspace capable ship like this. Well, other than Mitchell's fighter, but that was built by a Tetron."

  "It's a little cozy, I agree. We'll just have to become good friends."

  "I've got some porno streams we can watch," Cormac said. "Digger had a portable player and a partition on the data store. What's your flavor, Admiral?"

  Steven glanced over at Cormac. The soldier shrank back.

  "Oh, damn. You have the same evil eye as your brother. It must run in the family. I take it you're married, sir?"

  "Yes, but I wouldn't watch that trash if I wasn't," Steven said.

  Cormac put up his hand. "Okay, no worries, sir. I brought a pair of goggles." He looked at the others. "Just let me know if you want to borrow. Or you can share one side. I can't use it anyway." He laughed at himself.

  "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Steven said. "It's a wonder Mitch hasn't figured out I'm gone yet."

  "Right this way, Admiral," Germaine said, leading them onto the Lanning. Besides the two pilot seats, there was room for two more, along with a pisspot and small sleeping area in the back.

  "This isn't cozy," Firedog said. "This is a frigging coffin."

  Steven looked at him. His face had gone pale, and he was looking towards the airlock.

  "Are you okay, Cormac?" he asked.

  Cormac was shaking now. "I don't like small spaces, sir."

  "You can back out," Germaine said. "Just keep your mouth shut."

  Cormac took a step towards the hatch. Then he paused, clenching his eye shut. "Frig it all. No. I'm staying. Mitchell would want me to keep you alive, sir."

  "You sure, Firedog?" Germaine asked.

  "Yeah. Just close me in. I'll be over here." He sat in the second row of seats and closed his eye. His hands clenched the strap of his duffel, knuckles white.

  Germaine took the pilot seat, while Steven sat next to him, leaving John with Cormac.

  "I wish I'd brought a change of clothes," Steven said. "I didn't realize I'd be on a ship without any laundering."

  "Been a while since you roughed it, Admiral?" Germaine said.

  "I never piloted a drop. My Academy scores were at the top of my class, and I got bumped to commanding a cruiser six months out. I've never seen a fight from anything smaller than that."

  Germaine laughed. "You're a lucky son of a bitch, aren't you?"

  "I worked my ass off."

  "Didn't mean to offend, Admiral."

  "Call me Steven. I'm pretty much due for a court-martial if I go back to the Alliance before the Tetron are gone, and the rank doesn't mean a thing out here."

  "True enough, Steven," Germaine said. "Let's get the show on the road." He pressed a button on the cockpit, opening a channel to Control. "Control, this is Germaine. I'm in the Lanning. Going to move it into the secondary Hangar for a retrofit. Digger thinks he can sling a laser cannon to the top of her."

  "Germaine, this is Fiona. You know Mr. Tio wouldn't be happy with you messing with the Lanning."

  "Mr. Tio isn't here, and we need all the firepower we can get. Come on, Fi."

  Steven assumed he was speaking to the woman with the gray hair. She sounded tired.

  "Fine," she said, sighing. "If he makes it back, this is on you."

  "Roger."

  There was a bang and a hiss, and then the ship began floating out from the side of the docking arm. Steven couldn't believe it had been so easy to get the ship away though he knew it would have been much harder with the jumpship.

  "She's going to chew me out in about five seconds," Germaine said, using the stick to fire vectoring thrusters, turning the Lanning to face the exit.

  "Germaine? What kind of game are you playing?" Fiona's voice was high-pitched and angry. "You cocky son of a whore, get the frig back in position."

  Germaine added forward thrust, maneuvering the smaller ship around larger vessels that were waiting in the cavern for a spot on the docks. He looked over at Steven, smiling.

  "Germaine? Where the frig do you think you're going?"

  "Sorry, Fi. I've got Admiral Steven Williams on board. He ordered me to leave Asimov." Steven glared at him. Germaine shrugged, still smiling. "Tell Colonel Williams that we're going to retrieve the prize. He'll know what that means."

  "Tell him to plan accordingly," Steven said. "We'll get a message back to these coordinates, tee ten at two point seven. He'll know what that means. Oh, and tell him I don't care what he thinks. Dawn was pretty." He felt his heart lurch as he realized he might not see his brother again. "And tell him I love him, and I'm proud of him, and to stay strong."

  "Riiigg-ahh," Cormac shouted from the back.

  "Riiigg-ahh," they all replied.

  Germaine pushed the thrusters harder, the ship accelerating into the narrow passage out into space.

  "Coordinates?" he asked.

  Steven fed them to him, and he entered them into the computer. The system was manual, and Germaine had to do some of the calculations himself. He didn't miss a beat.

  "You okay back there, Firedog?" Germaine asked.

  "Frig you," Cormac replied.

  "I don't go that way."

  The Lanning kept accelerating, moving through the tunnels at a ridiculous velocity, Germaine deftly steering them around the rest of the traffic. Within minutes, they were out, blasting away from the rock into the blackness of space beyond.

  "Last chance to change your mind," Germaine said.

  "Not on your life," Steven replied. "Let's go."

  Germaine froze the thrusters, switching to the hyperspace engine. It whined slightly behind them. He hit the cockpit's control panel.

  Black collapsed into white, and the Lanning disappeared.

  13

  "I think that's it," Digger said.

  "This was a lot more work than I expected," Mitchell replied. He was wearing light exo, having gone back up to mechanic
al to retrieve it and using it to lift and load the heavy equipment onto a Mule.

  It had been almost four hours since he had left Steven in Tio's house. He had been distracted by the work he was doing with Digger, the simple manual nature of it a much-needed distraction from recent events. He lost himself in the step-by-step deconstruction of the pieces Digger wanted to bring with them, and hadn't even noticed how much time had passed until they had gotten the DNA sequencer onto the Mule.

  He knew he needed to get back and check in. Steven would be wondering what had happened to him.

  Of course, now that he was finished with the work and his mind wasn't so distracted, all he felt was exhausted. He had originally intended to get an hour or two of rest, but that hadn't worked out. It was too hard for him to let go when there was so much to be done, and so little time to do it.

  "You really think this will help?" Mitchell asked.

  "Jameson told me this was what he would grab if he were me," Digger said. "I'll need to talk to your brother about his doctor, too."

  "He's over at Tio's. I need to run back there and check-in with him. You should come with me."

  "Okay, sure. Thanks for lending me a hand, Colonel. I'd still be fighting with the frigging mainframe. I don't have exo attachments."

  Mitchell shrugged. He was getting used to the manually controlled version of the strength-enhancing suits. "I needed the practice in it. Come on."

  They headed for the exit, the Mule following dutifully behind them with the three large pieces of tech on its back. It stepped smartly over the debris, keeping pace as they moved to the lift.

  "Have you slept at all since you got back to Asimov, Colonel?" Digger asked while they ascended.

  "No, not yet. I'm getting to it."

  "It's been almost fifty-four hours. You're going to drop dead if you don't take a breather." He paused. "I've got this shit, came from a trader on King's Point, or at least that's what Gorman told me. Helps you sleep real good, and you don't wake up with a headache or any of that shit."

  Mitchell didn't like taking drugs, but he was so physically tired and mentally aware that he considered it. "You know where I'm staying?"

  "Yeah, in the apartments with your brother's crew."

  "Drop it off there."

  "Sure. Hey, Colonel, I wanted to ask you something about the Battle for Liberty. I mean, you don't need to answer if you don't want to, but it's been something that's been twisting my pecker for a while."

  "Twisting your pecker?"

  Digger laughed. "Figure of speech from back home. Do you mind?"

  "I won't answer if I mind."

  "Right. Okay. So I watched you on the streams, and I read the reports. I saw something in there about the Federation Dreadnaught; you said that it didn't have full shield coverage or some shit?"

  "Yes. The geometry was off. There was a gap in the rear." It had been a while since he had thought about it. It felt like it had all happened so long ago.

  "Did you ever wonder why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why the frigging gap? I mean, the Federation is full of the smartest scientists in the universe, like Tio's brother, for example. How the frig did they get the geometry wrong?"

  "Of course I wondered. I don't have any answers for it, though. We saw an opportunity, and we took it."

  "Sure, sure. But what about in light of recent events?"

  Mitchell stared at Digger, starting to catch on to what the mechanic was trying to say. "This has to do with what you were discussing in the meeting earlier?"

  "Yeah. How do we know there isn't a Tetron, or maybe a bunch of Tetron, embedded in the Federation? How do we know that they didn't frig up the dreadnaught's build process on purpose?"

  "So that I could take the Shot?"

  "Yup."

  Mitchell had never thought about it that way before. The idea of it intrigued him. "They would have to be on humanity's side."

  "Would they? This is going to sound really crazy, Colonel, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way. What if you weren't supposed to be the one who took the Shot?"

  "I can't take it the wrong way because I don't know what you're suggesting."

  Digger looked frustrated at having to explain it. "What if you weren't supposed to take the Shot? What if your commander was supposed to be the Hero of the Battle for Liberty? What if she was the one who was originally supposed to fight the Tetron, but somehow the bad ones interceded and got you mixed up in it instead?"

  Mitchell felt his heart begin to race. Ella was the real hero, and she had been twice the pilot and leader he was. Could it be that the mechanic was right? Did it even matter?

  "I guess anything is possible," he said, keeping his voice level. "Who knows how this whole thing started, or what it looked like during the first recursion? The point is that in this one, I'm the guy who's supposed to try to stop it. If the Watsons set me up to become that guy because they thought I would be some kind of patsy, that's only more motivation for me to prove them wrong."

  Digger nodded. "I agree with you, sir. Don't get me wrong. It was just something I was wondering about. I mean, there has to be a reason for that shit, right? Do you think I'm onto something there?"

  "Like I said, anything is possible."

  The door to the lift slid open. They led the Mule out into the corridor towards the loading bay. They would need to get a transport to carry the equipment over to the Carver.

  Mitchell had only made it three steps when an older woman in gray hair appeared, coming from the opposite direction. She raised her arm and waved when she saw him.

  "Colonel! Colonel!"

  "What is it?" Mitchell asked, his mind shifting gears in an instant, from Digger's supposition to a sudden sense of urgent sharpness.

  "It's your brother," she said.

  Mitchell's senses took another hit, heading off in another direction of panic. "Is he okay?" he asked, resisting the intense desire to run to Tio's.

  "I don't know. My name is Fiona, I'm one of the techs that runs Control up on level A. Germaine just took the Lanning from the docks and brought it out into space." She was waving her arms, speaking quickly.

  Mitchell held back his sudden frustration. "What? You aren't making any sense. Calm down and tell me what happened."

  "Your brother," she said again, still excited. "Germaine took the Lanning."

  "Fi, get a frigging grip, will you?" Digger said. "Try speaking English."

  Fiona stopping moving, her eyes wide. She blinked a few times and then blew out a huge breath.

  "Sorry, Colonel," she said. "Germaine took the Lanning, Mr. Tio's starship, from the docks. He told me that Steven ordered him to take him somewhere. Steven was on the ship. He told me to give you a message. That he loves you, and he's proud of you, and to stay strong, and he's going to get you the prize. Oh, and Dawn was pretty. He also said he would get a message back to Asimov. Something about tee ten at two point seven."

  Mitchell froze, his anger rising and warring with his concern and his pride in his brother for taking the initiative for once. He couldn't believe Steven had managed to defy an order. He had even been sly about it, getting Mitchell to tell him the coordinates back at Tio's.

  "Do you know what that last part means, Colonel?" Digger asked.

  Mitchell nodded, still in a bit of shock. He could read between the lines. Steven hadn't agreed with him on not heading out to see what Origin left them, and he was willing to risk his life because he believed it would help fight the Tetron. He had believed so strongly that he had done something Mitchell never thought he would do to see it happen.

  "We used to play a lot of games," Mitchell said. "Our parents didn't let us entertain ourselves with streams and VR games. We had to stay in the real, and occupy one another. He said to leave a ship behind to wait for him and have it move between ten coordinates at two point seven hours out from Asimov. The waiting ship will move clockwise, and he'll hit the points counterclockwise. That way the Tetron will have a ha
rd time locating them both if they are in the area."

  He should have thought of that in the first place. He had been too concerned about keeping everyone together and safe. Especially his brother.

  "Smart," Digger said.

  "Yeah."

  Mitchell felt the anger dropping, the pride rising. He remembered back on Goliath when he had heard the ghost of Katherine Asher tell him that they couldn't fight this war alone.

  They needed heroes.

  Steven was one of them.

  14

  Kathy paused, peering around the corner, moving her head back and forth and checking for signs of anyone nearby. She wasn't sure where Watson had placed the crew of the Goliath. There weren't many of them remaining, and if they were searching the ship for her, they might be fairly spread out.

  She knew she had to be quick. Watson would be coming this way soon, likely believing he could take his time to reach Mitchell's bunk to get the neural chip. She didn't know what was on it, or why the Tetron configuration might desire to possess it at this particular moment. She assumed it had to be important if it was a priority over stopping the Goliath and cracking the key to Tio's archives.

  She didn't see or hear anything, so she rounded the corner and ran along the corridor where the hexagonal bunks were positioned. She knew which one was Mitchell's, and she hit the button to open it, slipping in and quickly closing the hatch again. If Watson showed up before she left, she could surprise him and knock him down before he could stop her.

  She stood completely still then, wondering if she could kill him here and now. No. Not yet. She needed him to stop the Goliath and get it moving in the right direction. She needed him to get her back to Mitchell, and then she would try to disable him. It was risky, very risky, but her unique design didn't afford her the ability to interface with and challenge the secondary directly. Once she did, she would be fortunate if she were able to shut it down. She would never be able to control it.

  She turned and leaned over Mitchell's footlocker. She lifted the lid, quickly taking each item from it and throwing it onto the mattress in front of her. There were so many things in there. Things that had belonged to others. She knew of the Rigger's tradition of giving personal effects to others as a means to remember their sacrifice. She wished she had more time to examine each one, to put them to a name and understand what Mitchell felt when he touched them.