by M. D. Cooper
“Cause he’s the captain, and I have to at least make him a sergeant,” Jessica said. “Look, everyone stop bitching about your ranks. Trevor and I are heading up front to see if we can catch Garza when he steps out for a whiz. You guys are on engineering duty. We need to control this ship’s engines without having to hold the bridge.”
“Yeah, that’s what we’re afraid of,” Misha chuckled.
The light over the airlock’s inner door flashed green and Jessica slid it open and stepped boldly into the corridor. Trevor followed and they closed the portal behind them. The other team would leave several minutes later, once she had found a hard terminal for Iris to start her hack.
Until then, anyone who gave them a second look may realize that neither she, nor Trevor were on the ship’s rolls.
Iris said.
* * * * *
Usef was just about to ping Jessica for an update when his AI, Jamie, gave them the all clear.
Jamie informed the group.
“That won’t be weird at all,” Misha muttered.
“You’ll manage, let’s go,” Usef said and slid the airlock door open.
The trio exited the airlock, took ten steps down the corridor, and almost walked right into a puzzled-looking engineer.
“Hey! Watch it!” the woman grunted as she stepped around Usef. “Shit! Sorry, Major…Johnson.”
She saluted while blushing furiously.
“As you were, SPC. Don’t worry about it,” Usef said as he returned the salute.
“Thank you, sir. I’m just trying to work out some strange readings this airlock down here is giving me. Distracted me, won’t happen again,” she said in a rush.
“I trust that it won’t,” Usef said and turned, continuing on his way with Cargo and Misha on his heels.
“Someone got all hot and bothered when she saw ol’ Major Johnson here,” Misha chuckled. “Why infiltrate the enemy when you can just seduce them?”
“That one’s getting old,” Cargo grunted.
“Sheesh,” Misha sighed.
“That’s ‘sheesh, sir’,” Usef scowled. These two were going to blow the op. It was a miracle they had survived nine years in the Perseus arm. The Orion Guard must have put its incompetents out there.
They walked around a corner and saw that the passageway ahead had a ninety-degree twist. A pair of soldiers approached, appearing to walk on the wall until they reached the twisting section, at which point they rotated as they walked until their ‘down’ was the same as the trio’s.
The soldiers saluted, and Usef returned the salute, resisting the urge to turn and ensure that Cargo and Misha followed proper protocol. The soldiers didn’t say anything, so he assumed all was well.
After they passed through the twisted section of corridor, and were walking on the wall, they came to a bank of lifts, all situated around the edges of a large shaft with a particle accelerator running down the center.
Misha approached the railing and looked over. “Going dooooown,” he whispered while grinning.
“For fucks sakes, Private, stop dicking around and get in the lift,” Cargo growled.
As the doors closed, Usef nodded. “That was a passable impression of a sergeant. Nicely done.”
“What can I say?” Cargo replied. “Misha brings it out of me.”
“You know…I’m standing right here,” Misha muttered.
Jamie highlighted the engineering command level on his HUD, and Usef entered the code to send the lift down the three kilometers of shaft to its destination.
Cargo looked out the narrow windows into the ship’s central shaft. “Gotta say, that’s a pretty sweet view.”
Usef nodded. It reminded him of the accelerator that ran down the center of the I2. He remembered the assault on Node 11 back when the rogue AI had taken control of the Intrepid—fighting servitors and automatons through the dark passageways while nauseating gravity waves flowed off the accelerator.
That had been his first combat mission as a part of the ISF—though it wasn’t the ISF yet. He tallied the time he had been awake and realized that it was nearly a hundred years ago.
Nothing like what the admiral had put on her clock, but an appreciable span of years.
The lift slid to a halt halfway to their destination, and the doors opened to admit two female lieutenants. They quickly saluted Usef, and he returned the gesture, noting with relief that Cargo and Mish correctly saluted the officers.
“Good morning, Major,” one of the women said, while the other added, “Good morning, sir.”
They glanced at one another and the first woman—First Lieutenant Lauren, by her ident—asked, “If I may ask, Major Johnson, how long have you been aboard? I thought I knew all the officers on the Britannica.”
“Transferred in off the Sword of Orion, before we began our stealth run, Lieutenant Lauren,” Usef replied, using a ship name that Jamie supplied him. “I wanted to be where the action is.”
“Oh, this is where the action is, alright,” the other woman, Second Lieutenant Jenny, added.
They were smiling just a bit too much, and Usef wondered if the crew on the Britannica had something in their water supply. First the SPC near the airlock, and now these two. Maybe they were on to his team and just playing with him.
“Look us up once we’re done burning this system to ash,” Lieutenant Lauren said with a grin. “We’ll give you a proper Britannica welcome.”
The lift came to a stop several levels above their destination and the two lieutenants got out, both casting long looks back at Usef over their shoulders.
“Can you help it?” Misha asked with a shake of his head.
“Sir,” Usef replied.
“What? Does that mean ‘yes’?”
“Stars, we’re doomed,” Usef said and looked at the lift’s ceiling, hoping Jessica was at least doing as well as they were.
* * * * *
“Have you located them?” Garza asked as he re-entered the Fleet CIC.
“Not yet,” Admiral Fenton said, his deep scowl showing how he felt about the situation.
The ship’s
AI—a rather strange entity, in Garza’s estimation, known as Harry—replied, as well,
“I thought you had eyes on them just before I stepped out,” Garza said. “Two lieutenants saw them and noted the deck they were going to.”
“No, I want to know where they’re going. Find them, and tail them if you have to. They’re not here to see the sights, they have some sort of plan.”
“I think we should switch mission parameters,” Admiral Fenton said as he reoriented the view of the New Canaan system on the holotank. “If they have landed an infiltration team on our ship, they know we’re here. If they know we’re here, then our element of surprise is over. We’re close enough that we can order the fleet to rotate and fire engines on max burn. Their planet will be a dead husk inside of an hour.”
“They lucked out and spotted us with a stealth ship,” Garza replied. “That ship may have relayed our position, but they won’t know about the other half of the fleet. And if they do know, so what? Even if the Trisilieds don’t wear them down to dust first, we still outnumber them ten-to-one.”
“I don’t like it,” Fenton shook his head. “They have picobombs—if they know where we are, how do we know we aren’t flying into a swarm of them?”
“We don’t,” Garza shook his head. “But consider this: even if they can spot our stealth ships, their pico bombs won’t have scan good enough to track us on their own, and if they pass data to a swarm of pico-bombs, we raise shields and nothing comes of it.”
Fenton continued to frown at the holotank. “Provided pico can’t get through shields.”
“If it can, then why’d they fly their fighters through the Hegemony dreadnaught’s shields back in Bollam’s World?” Garza asked. “Their pico delivery system is the weak point—a weak point that we can target and destroy.”
Garza wondered about Fenton’s resolve. They were too far down this road to turn back now. When Kirkland learned that he had made this pre-emptive strike against New Canaan, the praetor would know that they did not share the same ideals.
Fenton knew that. They had to see this thing through. No other possibility existed.
“No,” Garza replied with a grim smile. “Bring them in here. I want them to watch while we destroy their world.”
* * * * *
Cargo and Misha nodded soberly, and Usef was glad to see that they were finally taking things seriously.
Usef agreed with Jamie’s sentiment.
The room was broad, with a high overhead and a dozen holotanks. Each one showed detailed readouts of different ships. Usef counted thirty engineering specialists around the room, working under the watchful eye of a major who stood near the center of the space.
A watchful eye which did not miss his entrance.
“Major…Johnson,” the woman said as he approached. “How can I help you today?”
Her words were cordial, but her scowl was not. Every inch of her body-language said ‘go away’ and Usef flashed his best smile in response. “Major Phyla, I’ve been sent down to ensure everything is ready for the upcoming battle and operate as a liaison.”
Major Phyla turned from Usef, back to the holo she had been monitoring. “A liaison to whom? I report directly to Captain Langlias. I don’t need you to liaise.”
“I’ve been attached to General Garza’s retinue,” Usef replied without rancor. “He sent me down here to make sure that he has a direct line to what’s really happening on the ship.”
His words caught her attention and she glanced back at him. “Did he now? I suppose that makes sense, in the CIC he only knows what comes down from the bridge—and I’ll tell you, that’s not always the whole story.”
Usef chuckled. “Don’t I know it. Who wants to be the one to tell the Fleet Admiral, and the general in charge of all the shady spec-ops shit, that something’s wrong?”
Major Phyla barked a laugh. “You do realize that’s your job—you get to be the bearer of bad news.”
Usef nodded. “Yeah, not the best posting in the force. Still, better than those poor Hegemony and Trisilieds ships out there.”
Phyla nodded absently. “Yeah, at least we’re no one’s ablative shielding like those bastards. Hell, when it comes to the Britannica, our shielding has shielding.”
Usef leaned around Major Phyla’s shoulder and peered into the tank. “So, what’s this?”
He barely paid attention to her response as he lightly touched the back of her neck, praying she wouldn’t notice.
“Excuse me?” she exclaimed as she spun to face him. “Are you trying to cop a feel or something?”
“What?” Usef took a step back. “You need to lighten up. You had this bit of string in your hair, just doing you a favor—keeping things on the up and up.”
The major’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “OK, Major Johnson, if you say so.”
Usef looked around the bay to see Cargo and Misha working their way through the engineers present. They were introducing themselves as part of his team, shaking hands, doing all the right stuff. In the time he had managed to deploy a package to the major, each of them had deposited pico units on a dozen of the personnel in the room.
Major Phyla had noticed the pair working their way through the room, as well, and shook her head. “Don’t know where you transferred in from, but you’re a friendly bunch. Better not be this distracting when the shit starts to fly.”
“Don’t worry,” Usef replied. “They’re just getting to know everyone so they can operate at peak efficiency when things get hairy. Not that I really expect it to.”
“No?” Major Phyla turned from the holotank to face him. “You know something I don’t know? Those Canners down there are pretty nuts. They have pico tech, fire grapeshot, probably have no issues with antimatter weapons, either—just like those Transcend bastards. You saw what they did.”
Usef nodded as though he knew all about it. If the Transcend had used antimatter weapons, it was deplorable, but right now, Orion was attacking his home and the Transcend was helping to defend it. He’d trust Admiral Richards to make the right call when it came to alliances.
“I meant here, on the Britannica,” Usef said with a smile and a shrug. “The captain’ll want to keep Admiral Fenton and General Garza nice and safe.”
Phyla shook her head and turned back to her holotank. “They’re great men and all—very important to the Guard—but I’d rather be in the thick of things. We signed up to be warriors, didn’t we? Not to babysit the brass.”
Usef chuckled. He couldn’t fault the woman for her spirit, misguided though it was.
Phyla’s shoulders hunched
ever so slightly before she spun, her sidearm aimed at his head. “Lucky for me, I think I’ve managed to find a bit of action right here in my own engineering bay.”
* * * * *
Garza shook his head as the intruders were marched into the CIC. How they ever thought that they could achieve anything other than capture on the Britannica was beyond him, though he’d very much like to know what they thought they could pull off.
“Welcome aboard,” Garza said with a cold smile. “I’m sure that you just forgot to ask the captain for permission to come aboard.”
“Something like that,” the woman said. “We just thought it would be good to get a look at your ships before we destroyed them all—for research, of course.”
The large man accompanying the woman didn’t add anything, but a smile spread across his face as he glanced at her.
“Well, I hope you got a good look. I’m General Garza, by the way. I brought you here because I thought you might like to watch as your fleets are destroyed, and your world held hostage until they surrender the picotech to us.”
“I’m Colonel Jessica Keller, and this is Trevor,” the woman replied. “I have to say, I’m glad you brought us in here. Usually it’s just a dark, grey holding cell—which would bug me because I’d be on the wrong side of the table.”
Garza snapped his fingers. “Of course, Jessica Keller. I didn’t make an immediate match because you’re not on the original colony roster—that and you appear to have aged.”
“A result of a recent adventure,” Jessica said with a frown. It’s been about fifty years since I’ve had rejuv.”
“Well, you’ll get none of that in an Orion prison,” Admiral Fenton spoke up. “General Garza, do you really have to play these games here? We have work to do.”
“Don’t you realize who this is?” Garza asked. “This is one of Governor Richards’s inner circle. She’s not here for some unimportant scout mission. She’s come because they planned to do something significant on the Britannica.”
“Then there’s no way they came alone,” Fenton replied. “You don’t send one of your top people—and a guy named Trevor—onto a ship like this by themselves.”
