The Atlantis Ship: A Carson Mach Space Opera

by A. C. Hadfield

  Chapter 11

  Morgan read his latest dressing down from Marshal Kenwright and felt his guts burn with acidic bile. The old goat had warned him over his assuming command last week. What the hell was he supposed to do? Just stand there and watch the blundering fools in Ops, none of whom had actually served in any kind of military operation, make a mistake that cost the treaty…

  He closed the message on his smart-screen and kicked away his office chair. The seat crashed into a metal pot stand, knocking over some fake tree that was supposed to emit relaxing chemicals into the air to keep the stress down.

  But it was stress he needed, not some pathetic job that kept him locked up in an office doing nothing but signing off on dull reports of nothing in particular. To make matters worse, he still hadn’t heard from Mach after the kerfuffle on Summanus a few days ago. He just hoped that Mach was en route to get Kingsley Babcock.

  Taking a deep breath, he stood at his windows and watched as yet more junior pilots and infantry units marched up and down the parade square, pretending they were soldiers. It all seemed such a waste of money if they weren’t actually being used for anything.

  A knock on the door brought him out of his funk. He turned and said, “Come in.” He was just happy for a distraction at this point. With the ships in transit, moving to their locations, there was nothing much else he could do but wait.

  Like he had time to wait.

  The door opened and one of his assistant staff entered. “Are you busy, Admiral?” the fidesian said.

  “I wish I was, Seazza. I’ve mostly been occupied these last few days with the mind-crushingly dull act of waiting. Waiting for reports that only require me to sign off and sit here, doing nothing.”

  Seazza fiddled with the edge of her blue headscarf and looked away, unsure of how to respond. Morgan had taken a shine to her a few years ago when she was transferred over from central CW government. She used to be an aide to Fides Gamma’s Senator Orloza. Orloza had now ascended to vice president, no doubt due to Seazza’s exceptional organizational skills.

  But she also had something else that most at the CWDF didn’t have these days: combat experience. “Before your diplomatic role, how much did you enjoy your time as captain of the Harrakziestra? Oh, and please sit.”

  Seazza slid her lithe body onto the chair in front of Morgan’s desk.

  “Well,” she began in Salus Common, “it was a demanding role. I commanded the Harrakziestra heavy bomber into vestan territory. We won some battles, lost a few, but ultimately we provided our CW brethren with good support.”

  Morgan nodded, listening to her diplomatic answer.

  He thumped his closed fist against his chest. “But in here? Did you feel that rush inside? That fear, the excitement, that heightened sense that you were meant for it?”

  The blush on her face told him she hadn’t. She inclined her eyes and politely stared at the desk surface.

  Morgan sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I guess I’m just getting sentimental in my old age.”

  “It’s quite all right, Admiral. I have something that you wanted to see.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m patching you in now. It’s the feed directly from the capital ship, Aeon. It’s arrived at the coordinates of the wormhole. Captain Mieko Mori is on the line.”

  Morgan nodded. The holographic display hovered above his right forearm.

  “Good afternoon, Captain Mori,” Morgan said to the Japanese woman. She cut a formidable sight with her fitted captain’s uniform of gray and gold and more medals on her lapels than Morgan knew even existed… yet this was someone who hadn’t yet fired a weapon in anger.

  “Admiral Morgan,” Mori responded with a clipped accent and a curt nod. “I was told to report my findings to you regarding Orbital Forty and the wormhole.”

  “Indeed, what can you tell me about the attack? And of the wormhole itself?”

  Without flinching or apologizing, Mori said, “Nothing, Admiral. There is just the usual debris one would expect and nothing else. No sign of the wormhole or of any craft that did this. I’m afraid our journey has been a waste of time and resources. The forces at Retsina could have told us exactly the same thing.”

  Morgan bristled at the accusations. “That might be so, Captain, but I wanted to have an experienced crew’s assessment of the situation given the scale of the issue we’re dealing with, or would you have preferred to stay at home while the Axis Combine forces continue to mass on the NCZ border?”

  Mori’s eyelid twitched. She took a breath and bowed her head a few millimeters. “No, of course not, Admiral. My crew and I are ready to serve the CW. But about the Axis Combine, we’ve detected that they have moved into an attack formation.”

  “And where are they currently?”

  “Still on their side of the NCZ, but their intentions are clear.”

  “No, they’re not,” Morgan said. “I spoke with their commander recently. They’re in the vicinity to investigate the wormhole anomaly and for no other reason. Do not engage.”

  “I’m sorry, Admiral, but I’m afraid that isn’t your call.”

  Morgan’s face flushed with blood, bringing heat to his cheeks. He slammed his left fist on the desk, letting out the built-up anger. “How dare you, Captain! I am your admiral! You’ve only had simulation experience. You do not get to make that call. Now stand down and remain in patrol.”

  Mori didn’t flinch, just stared at him via their holographic displays. “I’m under orders of the space marshal. I suggest that if you feel so strongly, then you speak with him. We will, of course, send you any reports should we happen to spot another mythical ship appear from nowhere.”

  With that, Mori’s display shut down and the line cut.

  Seazza fidgeted in her chair, her thin lips moving as though trying to work out what to say. Morgan slumped in his chair, too tired for a tirade. What good would it do anyway? With his disciplinary threat from Marshal Kenwright three days ago and now this, it was clear to him the rank of admiral meant absolutely nothing.

  “The Atlantis ship mission is bullshit, isn’t it, Seazza? Just a way for the marshal to keep me out of his hair. I’m beginning to doubt if it even was this elusive Atlantis ship. There’s been no sign of it since the first attack. I’m starting to think this is just the marshal’s way to keep me occupied. He’s treating me like a fool, isn’t he?”

  “I… couldn’t possibly speculate, Admiral. But… if I am to speak freely?”

  “Of course you are. What is it?”

  “Even if it is true that the marshal is just playing you for a fool to keep you out of his way, there’s still the question of what destroyed Orbital Forty. Whether it was this Atlantis ship or not, if you were the one to find and capture this enemy, whatever it is, would that not give you some standing to go to the senate and appeal for a new role within the defense force?”

  Morgan nodded his head slowly, gripping his chin. “I suppose that’s one option. He did promise me a way in to active duty if I completed this mission, but if he truly believed it to be a real threat, why not give me more resources? More ships? According to him, we’re still in peace mode, so even if the Axis are gathering their forces, it doesn’t mean he couldn’t have spared at least one destroyer.” Morgan’s brain worked it over.

  The whole idea of this being a small, covert mission smelled funny to him now that he thought about it. He’d let his excitement and hope of being back on a ship cloud his judgment. He looked up at Seazza.

  “I think there’s a chance that there might be a grain of truth in that,” she said, hitting the nail on the head in the most subtle and noncommitted way possible. For her, this was as close as Morgan would get to a complete confirmation.

  “That old bastard,” Morgan said, standing up and pacing across his office. “Would Orloza be open to my concerns, do you think?”

  Seazza pondered on it for a moment. “It is unlikely in the current climate, but it wouldn’t be im
possible to gain his favor. He and the marshal are old friends, but Orloza is no fool. If the Axis Combine is preparing for war, it would make strategic sense to have someone of your captaincy experience in the chain of command. But you would need to find a way to get his attention. He has spent many years climbing to his current position. He won’t act on a whim.”

  “So I’m back to square one, a useless title in an organization that is sleep-walking its way into a war, and probably defeat.”

  “Not necessarily,” Seazza said with a conspiratorial tone in her voice that he had never heard before. He cocked an eyebrow and waited for her to expound her point.

  “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 12

  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 travelling 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 Ernesto’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 Babcock. 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.”