Like most vestans she had altered her physical makeup to the most practical for her designated lifestyle. She had double-jointed elbows and fingers, allowing her to manipulate complicated tools with ease. Her short size meant she could probably fit into almost any ship’s maintenance hatches.
Her near-black skin was smooth, almost glossy where it showed around her neck and upper arms. A leather jerkin, stained dark with grease and oil, featured a multitude of pockets and loops, all of which seemed to carry one type of tool or another.
“The Jaguar, yes,” Mach said, smiling, trying to appear friendly and nonthreatening. “How did you know?”
She turned and pointed to a bank of computers lining the left side of the pod. It reminded Mach of Babcock’s place. She must have been listening in on flight control, but how did she know his ship was a Jaguar?
“How did you get that ship? They’re not even in general use yet,” the vestan asked.
“You know about that, how?” Mach asked. He looked back briefly to Adira; she was nearly done with the airlock, the hatch hanging open at a forty-five-degree angle.
“I was one of the principal designers, before I was shipped out here. How does she fly?”
“She doesn’t, not really, that’s why I need your help. I need an engineer to fix the fusion crystal array; something happened during an L-jump and we’ve lost almost all flight capacity apart from thirty percent on the Gamma Drive.”
Mach kept her talking while out of the side of his eye he spotted Adira climbing into the airlock. “Listen, Tulula, we really mean no harm, I promise. I’m not sure what else I can say for you to believe me.”
“There’s one thing,” she said, bringing her face closer to the porthole.
“Name it,” Mach replied, finding himself mesmerized by her huge eyes.
“Take me with you.”
“What?” Adira said.
Tulula spun round then back to Mach. “You want me to fix the array, right? Then you take me with you. The Black Swan… she uses me for vestan secrets, and… other things. I can’t take it anymore. And with what happened yesterday to the destroyers, I don’t think there’d be a better time.”
“Let us in and we’ll talk about this,” Mach said. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”
The vestan hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on Mach. Then, as if a switch in her mind had gone off, she nodded. “Okay, come in.”
Mach smiled and pushed himself over to the open airlock. He gave Adira the thumbs-up as the hatch closed behind him and it started to pressurize. When it had equalized with the pod’s interior, the bulkhead opened.
Tulula stood there, holding a stun webber.
“Walk slowly,” Tulula said. “Don’t try anything stupid. I’m not afraid to shoot.”
Adira inclined her head to show her agreement and stepped into the pod. “It’s not loaded,” she said almost as an afterthought as she spun round, taking in the pod’s interior.
Tulula glared at her, lowering the weapon. “How did you know?”
“It’s her business to know these things, don’t worry,” Mach said. He placed a hand on the vestan’s shoulder to show her he meant no harm. “I’m Mach,” he said, “and this is my able colleague, Adira.”
“You already know my name,” Tulula said with a curt nod to both of them. “Now, we ought to get moving if you’re to get your ship away from the orbital.”
“Before we do that,” Adira said, taking off her helmet and shaking her hair out. “What do you know of the attack on the destroyers? Did you see what happened?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try us,” Mach said. “Perhaps it was the Atlantis ship per chance?”
The young vestan narrowed her eyes in that scrutinizing way of her species. “You knew?”
“Of course we do. Why else do you think we have a Jaguar?” Adira said, crossing one leg over another as she sat back.
“You’re…. going after it?” Tulula said.
“We are if you can help us.”
The vestan engineer whooped with a surprising joy and dashed across to the console, sitting down in the swivel chair. “You’ll take me with you? You promise me?” she said over her shoulder.
“Sure,” Mach replied. “Fix our ship and you can stay onboard as long as you want. But we’re going to need to get to the hangar and beyond the Swan’s armed guard first.”
Tulula spun the chair to face Mach. “I have a plan. How adverse to risk are you?”
Adira laughed. She jabbed a thumb towards Mach. “This fool doesn’t know the meaning of risk.”
“What do you have in mind?” Mach asked.
“Take a seat next to me and we’ll get started,” Tulula said with a glee in her face that Mach couldn’t quite tell was from living like a hermit or genuine insanity. Either way, he sat in the copilot chair and held on as the vestan decoupled the pod from the tether and blasted up and away from the great spinning orbital. The hangar was on the other side, toward the end of a central hub that stretched out for at least a couple klicks from the main orbital structure.
When Mach got his breath back from the surprise thrust, he asked, “If this thing could move like this all the time, why hadn’t you left before?”
“Orbital defenses and the old destroyers…” she said, pointing to the field of slowly orbiting debris. “I’ve already disabled their main laser battery array after it took damage from the Atlantis ship, or whatever it was, but they could come online any time.”
“We better be quick, then,” Adira said from the couch, her fists gripping an overhead handle to prevent falling around the pod’s interior.
“Here,” Tulula said. “The hangar bay door.”
“Can you hack into the Intrepid’s comm system?” Mach asked.
Tulula brought the pod to a quarter klick away from the hangar and matched its rotation so that it appeared they were stationary. She then brought up a holoscreen over the console and started to mess with the radio system.
“I’m not seeing any system to get into,” she said, “which is expected, but there is a live node in there. Something I’ve not seen before.”
“Must be Squid,” Adira said. “Can you get a message to it?”
Tulula manipulated the controls some more before saying she could.
“Tell the squad to make sure everyone’s inside the Intrepid,” Mach said, “if you’re planning on doing what I think you’re doing.”
The vestan smiled and nodded.
“The message is sent. They’re all inside. Now we go in.”
“Go in?” Adira asked. “What do you mean exactly?”
“Once we’re inside, make sure your helmets are on.”
“You’re not…” Adira gripped the overhead handle with both hands. “Oh shit, you are.”
Mach leaned forward as Tulula laughed and launched the pod toward the hangar bay door, her hands speeding across the ship’s controls. As they came closer, Mach could see the hangar doors opening. He could only imagine the surprise of the guards inside.
When the door had slid up into the station about halfway, the pod was just a few meters outside. Orange bursts of gunfire lit up the dark space. The pod boomed and rattled as half a dozen rounds struck against its shell. It was clear to Mach it wouldn’t stand too much of that.
Tulula raised the pod higher, following the rising hangar bay door.
Mach could see the half-dozen armed men and women struggling to open the door behind them.
“They won’t get out,” Tulula said, her voice flat. “I’ve overridden the controls. They’ll die of hypoxia in a few minutes. Now we wait.”
For those two solid minutes, Mach had to look away, unable to watch those guards die a horrible death, even if they did pass out after just fifteen seconds due to the pressure difference.
“Don’t pity them,” Tulula said. “They’re murderers and rapists. They deserve this fate.” She lowered the pod and navigated it insi
de the hangar, bringing it next to the Jaguar. It clattered to the landing deck, rocking back and forth until a landing magnet engaged. “We’ve got just a few minutes,” the vestan said, nodding her head to the airlock door already opening.
Mach made sure his suit was appropriately set up and made his way over to the airlock. Adira was also suited up and joined him. The vestan took a look around her pod without any show of emotion and stepped out of the airlock with no suit, her body far more hardy to the perils of the vacuum of space than humans.
“Patching us into the device onboard the Intrepid,” Tulula said.
“It’s called Squid,” Mach said.
A garbled response came over the comm channel and eventually resolved into Babcock’s surprised voice asking a hundred questions all at once.
“Just open the airlock for us, we’ll explain everything.”
When Mach and the others stepped out of Tulula’s pod, alarm klaxons blared.
“That’s our cue to get out of here,” the vestan said, dashing across the hangar bay floor, leaping over the still bodies of the guards until she reached the airlock on the side of the Jaguar.
Mach and Adira followed her into the craft.
Sanchez waited for them on the other side, helping them through to the main cabin area. “What the hell’s going on?” he said. “And who the hell is that?”
“Sanchez, this is Tulula. She’s going to help us. Now let’s not hang about here,” Mach said. Then, raising his voice so all could hear him, “Everyone, get to your stations. We’re leaving right this minute.”
Adira raced through to the bridge, where she settled into her position on the lasers, getting the systems online. Danick and Lassea were already firing up the Gamma Drive.
Mach showed Tulula to the engine module and introduced her to Babcock and Squid, the latter chirping happily at her.
“Can you fix it?” Babcock asked the vestan, the two engineers leaning over the fusion crystal array. The first three of which were dimmed, unusable in their current configuration.
“I think so,” Tulula said, leaning closer to inspect the installation. “You have the configuration all wrong. It’s a wonder the LD worked at all.”
“How long will it take?” Mach asked. All around him the klaxons continued to blare. It surely wouldn’t be too long before the Black Swan figured out what had happened, especially as Stessoa was going to come to any minute now.
“I don’t know,” the vestan said, “ten minutes, maybe fifteen.”
“You’ve got five.”
“Where are we going from here?” Babcock asked.
Mach grinned. “I think you already know the answer to that, old friend. We’re following your signal scan, after all.”
The two engineers, and even Squid, stared at him.
“The wormhole?” Babcock said with a hushed, almost reverent tone.
“Damn straight. We’re gonna go catch us a fish.”
Chapter 23
Today was the day of the arranged meeting. Morgan sat up in bed and watched the sun rise over the distant mountains through his penthouse apartment window. The view was fit for an admiral, albeit a puppet one.
Three days had passed since speaking with Marshal Kenwright. Seazza managed to pin Vice President Orloza down to an early morning appointment, before his endless senate duties discussing the impending war. That’s what the senate did. Talk. President Steros had brought in a decade of endless discussion.
But, Orloza had the political weight to provide a route back to an active role. Morgan had to make him accept that their current strategy of sitting on their backsides and waiting for something to happen wasn’t working. The best form of defense for the CWDF was attack: confront the Axis in numbers at the NCZ and include more resources directed toward the Atlantis ship mission.
Morgan stepped out of bed and walked to the window. A pair of drones zipped across the brightening sky, leaving faint vapor trails. Fides Prime had the ground defenses to deal with a wormhole appearance, and the senate could sleep soundly, but hundreds of other planets in the Sphere were vulnerable.
Talk around the base continued about Axis ships clustering on the frontier, opposite the former locations of the two destroyed stations. Morgan felt like a shell not being part of it. He intended to grab today’s opportunity with both hands. If it didn’t work, he feared for the Commonwealth’s future.
After getting in touch with the feronian authorities, Morgan found out that Mach had taken a powerful experimental ship. It seemed things were progressing on the mission, but he still hadn’t heard a thing. That in itself wasn’t a huge issue. Whenever Morgan used Mach before, he’d often go silent until he was finished. When Mach liberated ten members of a captured mining vessel from inside horan territory a couple of years ago, it had taken him two months to confirm his success.
Morgan slipped off his underpants and stood in the transparent hygiene cubicle. “Activate.”
Jets of warm scented water sprayed from twenty different points on the wall, instantly soaking him. Morgan swept back his thinning brown hair and blew water from his face.
The jets of water transformed into hot air and he slowly spun while the water dried off his skin. He grabbed a fresh towel from a shelf outside and dabbed at a couple of damp patches.
“Teeth.”
Two mechanical arms extended from a compartment over a chrome sink. Morgan put his mouth around the dentalbot at the end of the left arm. A minty taste blasted around his mouth as the micro-machine whirred around each tooth. He grabbed the glass of water from the cup holder in the right arm, swished it around and spat it out.
Returning to the bedroom, Morgan decided that he’d put on his best ceremonial suit for the occasion. It fit the role the marshal had given him, but he also wanted to create the best possible impression on Orloza with the vast array of medals across his chest.
Morgan knew he wasn’t an old has-been with an axe to grind. He had something to offer.
After dressing in the suit, he checked himself in the full-length mirror, picked a spot of dust off his dark gray lapel, and straightened the golden victory lanyard around his left shoulder. If politicians were shallow enough to be swayed by appearance, Morgan wouldn’t have any problems today. He doubted things would be that simple.
Morgan’s transport pod stopped outside the senate. He climbed out and straightened his jacket. Seazza waved over from the tall set of eight glass entrance doors. As instructed, she also wore her dark blue uniform instead of a dress. He returned a nod and glanced up at the large square granite building. The early morning sun reflected off hundreds of black-tinted windows that ran around the four floors. Mostly offices of admin staff who served the Salus government.
This was a place he had generally avoided throughout his career. The senate’s funding and resource decisions were based on the space marshal’s advice. Morgan always felt he had no business mixing with politicians. His place was at the coal face, executing high-level orders, defending the Sphere.
Trudging up twenty wide stone steps, Morgan felt a sense of foreboding. This was his last chance to make a tangible difference in the defense of the Sphere. Politicians usually backed the winning horse, and he had a clear case to make. Mach didn’t help matters by not communicating, but Morgan decided to use a little artistic license for that part.
“Good morning, Admiral,” Seazza said and smiled, exposing her light green teeth. “I’m confident we’ll get a decision today.”
“I hope you’re right, for all our sakes.”
“I know how to handle Orloza. Follow me.”
Seazza swiped her screen against a black plate on the wall and two of the glass doors smoothly swung open. She headed inside, through a three-meter-wide black frame that scanned for weapons, and entered the domed entrance hall. Morgan followed and peered around at the thirty-five stone busts of the previous presidents that circled the area. In the officers’ mess they had pictures of some of the dead men and women who served with
distinction during the war. He thought the mess display more poignant but admitted to himself that he did have a level of bias.
A young fidian soldier, dressed in the beige service uniform designed for wear in civilian facilities, pressed a button to call the elevator as they approached the opposite side of the room.
The elevator dropped through the transparent shaft and came to a soft bouncing stop.
“Which floor?” the soldier said.
“I can take it from here,” Seazza replied. “Thank you.”
They climbed to the fourth floor, catching brief glimpses of corridors as they passed, and stopped at a bright open-plan office. Hundreds of humans, fidesians and fidians, dressed in white business shirts, worked in open-plan offices behind the glass walls, peering at screens and moving their fingers over the holokeyboards.
“Orloza’s at the end,” Seazza said. “He likes to keep close to the workers.”
“Looks like he runs a tight ship,” Morgan said, but knew a man of Orloza’s position wouldn’t have much day-to-day responsibility dealing with individuals. It wasn’t like captaining a real ship, where it was a duty to know the crew and every high-level detail. Thinking about it made Morgan wonder why he ever accepted the rank of admiral in the first place. He never guessed it would turn out like this.
Seazza walked through the middle of the office area and opened an opaque door at the far end. Orloza’s secretary, a young woman with blond hair, sat behind a desk to the side of a wooden varnished door.
“Seazza!” the secretary said. “He’s ready to see you. Is this Admiral Morgan?”
“That’s me,” Morgan said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.” The secretary thumbed a pad by her side. “Seazza and Admiral Morgan are here. Shall I send them straight in?”
The Atlantis Ship: A Carson Mach Space Opera Page 17
