by Olson, Ry
Briton cocked an eyebrow at Reese. “We’re going to have to have a long talk someday.”
Reese feigned innocence. “Why, what did I do?”
“Consorting with incredibly attractive, older bio’s.” Briton laughed. “I need some lessons, dammit. It’s been too long since I’ve had a friend like her.” He paused and grew more serious. “Well, you get out there and see if you can find Martin. Meanwhile the Inspector General’s office owes me a favor. So Stratton is just about to get an unannounced resource review. He’ll know we’re up to something and will not have a second to himself to interfere.” Briton’s grin was truly nasty.
“Now, that’s just down right mean.” Reese grumbled, then formed his own malevolent smile. “I like it.” He saluted. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Thank you, Major Reese.”
Both cyborgs blinked out of the reality. Jenny watched the two images disappear, she seemed to sigh as she laid her head between her paws and went to sleep, a second later the reality ceased to exist. An uninhabited virtual world has no computer priority.
. . .
Reese phased into real space at the prescribed coordinates and started a spiraling search. A few minutes later a three manned strike fighters faded in.
“Baker squadron reporting in.” The unknown squad leader greeted Reese.
“Jester two here, good morning gentlemen.” Reese rumbled back. “Glad you could join in.”
Three pilots had the same reaction as they scanned his damaged ship. Mister Tinman! “The pleasure is ours, sir.” The squad leader replied, slightly awed. “Where do you want us?”
“Well, if I know Captain Morgan he would have jettisoned and tried to make his trajectory bring him back in this direction.” He transferred the last position where Martin had reported from. “Spread out between here and there I guess. Thank you and good luck.” They hadn’t even disappeared into the distance before four manned light fighters phased in. For the next half hour ships poured into the area. Leena, Jeeter and the ambiguous Major were among the last.
“Hi Reese.” Leena hailed as soon as the they phased in.
“Leena, Jeeter . . .” Reese hesitated.
A strange, friendly voice laughed. “Just call me Major . . . it’s actually Major Major, Major, but that seems to cause a lot of confusion”
Reese laughed. “Didn’t I read that line in an old book somewhere? Some obnoxious parody on World War Two, as I recall.”
Major Major smirked. “Oh yeah, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.”
“Are there any ships left at the fleet? I can’t believe this many showed up of their own accord?” Reese asked in general.
“Like I told you and the Commander, Martin has a lot of friends.” Leena answered.
As if to accent the point two space going tugs phased in. “Is there a Major Reese here?”
Reese eyed the two ships. “I’m Major Reese.”
“Sir, Lieutenants Reeves and Stricklin reporting in, Sir.” The young man stuttered a little bit marveling that he was actually talking to a warborg.
“Relax guys.” Leena laughed. “I’m Captain Tinkman, call me Leena. Glad to have you. What, may I ask, brought you here.”
“Hi, Leena. It’s actually Warrant Lieutenant Stricklin, Ma’am” A small, girl’s voice sounded shyly over the communications system. “But everyone calls me Tina.”
The male Lieutenant spoke up. “About six months ago Tina, err . . . I mean Lieutenant Stricklin, and I were out doing a tow job on a barge between battle groups. I’d only been here a couple months and it was her first open space operation. We lost our field[3] and were resetting when out of nowhere four Koth jump us. We tried to jettison the barge and run, but there was no time. I figured we were dead. Then four fighters phased in right on top of us and somebody ordered us to get the hell out of there. But before we could break free a Koth launched a missile at Tina, and . . .” The voiced faded out for a second in chilled remembrance. “Captain Morgan flipped in and took the missile hit. I remember watching the end of his ship disintegrate, the turret was just gone. He flipped on through and plastered the Koth with missiles.” He was silent for a second. “When we heard he was in trouble Tina really wanted to come out, so I came with her. We asked our Captain and he said it was ok, ‘cept we’re still on duty, so if he calls we have to go back.”
“At least these two know how to follow orders.” Major Major gruffed.
Both young pilots were taken aback. It was the unforgettable, harried voice that ordered them to run, those months ago.
Reese considered the two youngsters; he wanted them well away from where there might be trouble in their unarmed ships. “Ok, you kids. And yes, I can call you kids because I’m older than dirt.” He fed their navigation computers a location as he listened to the general laughter. “Start here, stay kind’a together and work your way back to the fleet.”
“And Lieutenants,” Leena added. “You keep your eyes open and stay alert. If anything starts to come down out here you haul butt back to the fleet, and I mean anything, this is contested space.” She paused. “And thank your Captain for us.”
“We will.” The two young voices chittered as their tugs headed out.
Reese directed the three manned fighters to an area that hadn’t been covered. A minute later three missile cruisers phased in. At first Reese thought the jig was up and Commander Stratton was pulling the plug. “Jester Squadron, we are Missile Cruisers Longshot, Firestorm and Warlock. Where do you want us?”
“Ahhh,” Reese mentally shook his head to regain his composure. “Jester Two here.” He stared at the ships of the line. Oh my god, there is going to be hell to pay. “Welcome to the party gentlemen.”
“Jester Two, Commander Briton thought our long range missile tracking sensors might be of use.” The voice chuckled. “And we’ll never turn down a chance to tweak Stratton.”
“I can appreciate that.” Reese answered dryly. He transferred some coordinates to the cruisers. “It’s a lot of area, just full of junk. Maybe your systems can sort it out. I didn’t want to waste the smaller ships because it’s a needle in a haystack over there. What do you think, want to give it a try?”
There was no answer for a moment. “Jester Two, we would like to give it a shot. The bridge crews think it might be a good way to see just how good our targeting systems really are.”
“Then thank you gentlemen and good hunting. Jester Two out.”
“Roger, Jester Two.”
Reese watched in silence as the three medium missile cruisers moved off. Alright, that was interesting, but if any capitol ships show up I’m claiming ignorance and going home. He spent the next few hours directing traffic, never getting to search himself.
. . .
“I FOUND HIM!!” A tiny voice bellowed through the communications system. “I FOUND HIM!! I don’t believe it, I found him.”
“Tina.” Reese recognized the voice. “Tina calm down.”
“Oh sorry.”
“Tina, load you position into the transponder so we can find you.” Reese instructed. He watched in frustration as three different locations popped up on his instrumentation as the excited lieutenant fumbled with her instruments.
“Oh, the hell with this.” The tiny, excited voice snapped. A second later her ship’s distress transmitter lit up everyone’s sensors.
Good girl. Reese thought as he listened to a recovery ship respond.
15: What’s Up Doc
“Martin, Martin can you hear me?” Doctor Swain’s voice pestered. “Martin, wake up. Come on Martin.”
Slowly the droning voice made its way into Martin’s consciousness. “Doc . . .” Martin tried but couldn’t remember the rest of the name. He knew he should be frustrated, but it just didn’t seem to matter.
“That’s it Martin, talk to me.” Swain smiled at the first feeble response. “Come on Martin . . . Earth to Martin.”
The cobwebs cleared a little bit. “Doc?”
“Ye
s, I’m here Martin. Talk to me. Tell me your life story. Come on Martin, it’s time to wake up.” Swain kept prodding.
Martin began to focus. “Doc . . . man, have I got a hang over.”
“That’s it Martin, keep talking. Hello Martin.”
Martin opened his eyes. “Doc, I think there’s something wrong with my vision.” He mumbled, blinking and trying to focus. “Doc!”, clarity started coming with a rush. Well, I must not be dead . . . or the devil’s got a sick sense of humor. Martin took a giant mental breath as it all came back. “Hi Doc.”
“Welcome back Martin, just take it easy.” Swain sagged in his chair with relief. “Just keep talking, it helps blow the fog out.”
“I think I’m pretty much all here now Doc.” Martin did some mental math and a few other things to try and tell if he was thinking straight, the answers sounded right and he could remember the lyrics, so he figured he must be close. “What’s up with my sight . . . and my hearing ain’t up to its usual standard either.”
Doc genuinely laughed this time. “Well, you’re in a new container, you seem to have broken your last one.” Doc’s smile faded. “Martin, I don’t know how the hell you survived. Your old container was a wreck.” He brightened. “Glad to have you back.”
“Yeah, I had a little help with the container.” Martin sagged.
Swain seemed about to say something then thought better of it. “Well, I was able to cobble together most of your sensory patterns from the old container, but as you see, or don’t see,” he laughed at the dark humor, “we have to get you calibrated all over again.”
“Oh shit, wait a minute Doc.” Martin suddenly remembered the data he had stored in his container. “Were you able to pull the ship sensor data out of the container banks. I hope it was all there. Brian gave his life so we would have that data.”
Swain looked shocked. “What do you mean, gave his life for the data.”
“I don’t know Doc, I think that crazy son of a bitch went in knowing he wasn’t coming back out, and he was pumping data to me like mad right up until it got’em.” Martin sounded sad.
Doctor Swain blew out a breath. “We pulled a lot of data out of the container, Martin. Whether we got it all, we’ll probably never know. Your container was a mess.” His voice softened. “As for Brian, hold back on judging him for now, ok.”
Martin read something in Swain’s voice. “Ok, sure Doc.” He paused for a few seconds. “Hey doc, how long was I out?”
“They brought you in four days ago, Martin.” Swain faded a little with the memory. “When I first saw your container I thought . . . well you can guess what I thought.”
The vidphone buzzed in the lab and Swain reached over and poked the answer button. “Swain here.”
“Hi Doc.” Reese’s voice rumbled out.
“I’d know that voice anywhere, Hi’a Reese.” Martin laughed.
Reese smiled. “Well, I guess he’s still alive. I’ll pass the word. I know a young gal who’s been pine’in real bad for that no account over there.”
Swain relaxed for the first time in four days as the two warborgs bickered over his vidphone. God, I’m glad things are getting back to normal, now if these two don’t drive me insane it could be a nice day after all.
Reese stopped laughing and grew serious. “Commander Briton wants to talk to you as soon as you’re up to it. We looked over that data you saved . . . we need someone who was there to explain it. The technology gurus are divided into a half a dozen camps over what really went on out there.”
“Reese, would you tell Commander Briton Martin should be able to hard link sometime tomorrow. Until then the Doctor’s orders are for him to relax and get his feet back under him.”
“Sure Doc.” Reese laughed. “I have to go help our good Commander Briton learn to pilot a strike fighter. Poor fella hasn’t flown in fifteen years, let alone as a tinman, and shows every minute of it. So I’ll fill him in. Good to see you up and around Martin.” Reese disappeared from the screen with a lopsided smile.
“Commander Briton’s going into a strike fighter?” Martin muttered to no one in particular. “Did I miss something?”
“Oh, you might say that.” Swain snickered as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, he grew serious. “Commander Briton is now in command of the entire combat group, not just the cyborg contingent.”
“What?” A cyborg in charge of manned ships, this is a new one.
“And it’s all your fault.” Doc taunted him with a smile. “It all started when our favorite borgaphobe, Commander Stratton, refused to order ships out to search for you. Briton went to Reese and they cooked up a plan with some fighter pilot named Leena to get volunteers from the manned wings to go out and search. There were over fifty ships out there at one point, and a few of them were heavies. Well, Briton had sicced a friend of his from the Inspector General’s Office on Stratton to keep him busy, and it worked. But after the search was over and the inspection ended the shit hit the fan . . .”
. . .
Reese looked around Commander Briton’s virtual office with interest. His receptionist was a bio he could only talk to through a vidphone. The whole thing seemed a little bizarre, he also had some sort of physical office where he could meet bio’s, with him behind his desk in holotank. “Doc spent all day getting Martin out of his old bucket and into a new one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the good Doctor this worked up.”
“Hmmm, yes. I talked to him earlier.” Britain nodded. “He thought Martin was dead when they first brought him in.”
“It’s no wonder. You should see his old container,” Reese muttered. “Or what’s left of it.” Reese Studied his commanding officer for a moment. “So, what did you want to see me about in such a rush?”
Briton closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve got Stratton holding on a line.” He took a deep breath and blew it out through his teeth. “He’s on a rampage, and I’m really exposed. What we did wasn’t against the regs, but it sure was unethical. I know if I were in his position, I’d be livid.”
Reese squinted at Briton. “We both know you wouldn’t put people in a position where they had to do something like we did, at least not intentionally.” He ended with his lopsided smile. “I guess we’re at that apple.” He sighed. “Hang on for a second, I’ll be right back.”
Briton raised his eyebrows as Reese blinked out of the office. The vidphone hold signal buzzed impatiently.
A few moments later Reese rematerialized in the office. “Commander, I need a second vidphone.” A vidphone popped into existence on the corner of the desk. Reese turned the vidphone toward him and pressed a couple buttons. He nodded toward the holding vidphone.
Briton shot a questioning glance at Reese’s non-committal expression. He hit the connect button. Stratton appeared on the vidphone. “Sorry to keep you wa . . .”
“Oh, stuff it Briton!” Stratton seethed. “Just who in the hell do you think you are? I told you I didn’t want to send any ships out looking for your tinman.” The disdain in his voice when he finished was clear.
“Yes Commander, I know. But I didn’t have any ships of my own so I asked for volunteers from the other groups.” Briton’s voice was flat.
“So you decided to risk how many, what fifty or so, of my ships to find a single tinman.” Stratton was visibly starting to shake. “Without bothering to inform me.”
“I notified your staff.” Briton stated.
“So you left me a message, how considerate of you.” Stratton hissed. “While I was going through an, oh so convenient, resource inspection. Cute Briton, real cute.” He leaned into the vidphone. “You’re through Briton, after I submit my report you’ll be directing garbage barges in some shit hole system in the middle of nowhere . . . if you’re lucky.”
Briton took a deep breath and maintained control. “That may be. But what was I supposed to do, just abandon my pilot?”
“Your pilot? He’s a tinman, not a pilot.” Stratton sneered. “Next time use your
own damn ships.”
Briton was starting to turn red. “I would have, if I had any. But somehow my wings never seem to be anywhere near the strength prescribed by the regs.” He rocked back and stared Stratton in the eye. “And that pilot has over one hundred thirty confirmed kills, a third of them since he became a warborg.” He heard a sharp intake of breath from the other vidphone.
“I don’t want to hear about your staffing problems, because frankly, I could give a shit.” He smiled. “Maybe if you knew how to run a combat group you wouldn’t have these problems.”
Briton turned stony. “Maybe if every time I got the requested increase computer capacity for more cyborgs it wasn’t immediately reallocated somewhere else, I could support some more.”
“Bhaa, who’d want more tinmen around?” Stratton snarled. “They’re only use is keeping the real pilots alive.”
“So you keep saying,” Briton grated. “But I notice you seem to think the few I have make pretty good cannon fodder for the risky missions.”
Stratton smiled coldly. “Why send in manned ships with live pilots when you can use tinmen. Tinmen are already dead, we just haven’t bothered to bury them yet.”
“Thank you Reese, I’ve heard enough.” A woman’s voice came from the other vidphone. “Let me see these officers.”
Reese positioned the vidphone pickup to cover Briton and the other vidphone. There was an older woman on the screen who had obviously just been woken up. The two Commanders studied the disheveled image on the screen as she shifted her attention between them. “Major Reese, if you please.”
Reese smiled. “Yes ma’am. Commanders Briton and Stratton this is Vice Admiral Kiering of the Inspector General’s office.”
“Ma’am.” Both men responded automatically. Briton blinked a couple times and Stratton’s face pinched slightly.
