One Good Soldier

by Travis S. Taylor

  "Cold air." Joe continued moving the mindview diagrams around rapidly, looking for the one that would work. Then he found it. "There it is! The main coolant lines of damned near everything flow through the exterior bulkheads that aren't pressurized. Any cooling along the flow lines is purely radiative. Hmm . . ."

  Debbie, what if we pumped pressurized helium or air or something in there? he thought.

  Well, the only thing we could do in a hurry is air, Joe.

  Okay, let's do it. What about some water mist?

  Yeah, we could do that.

  Hell, we are about to jaunt into atmosphere. Let's just open up some panels and let it flow through.

  That would work. With the flow speed, it would supercool the air as it was forced down the tube. My calculations show it would increase the cooling efficiency by ten percent.

  That might be enough.

  "CO! CHENG!"

  "Go, CHENG!"

  "Sir, we need to get into atmosphere. It might allow us to cool off the SIFs quicker. The sooner, the better."

  "We're headed to treetop high in about seventy seconds."

  "Great, sir.

  "All right, we're hitting the air in about a minute. I want hatches opened to the bulkheads, uh . . ." Joe stepped toward a holoscreen and had his AIC display the image that was in his mind. "Okay, that's it. Here, here, here, and here. We open these hatches and route airflow through the exterior hull walls. We need to figure out how to pull the structural integrity fields in one layer hull or just turn them on and off rapidly enough to get some airflow in there. Any ideas on that?

  "Shit, at the rate we're going, the SIFs are gonna shut down anyway," Mira complained.

  "Probably, but let's hope not! Shit, there has to be a way to get the air in the exterior dry hull without compromising our security." Joe was perplexed and running out of time. "We'll figure it out. Get those hatches open. Andy, be careful. You'll be outside the SIFs on the hull, and there are fighters and incoming out there. Armor up, but do it quick."

  "I'm on it, Joe," Andy replied. He took off running across the room, underneath the hyperspace projector conduit, and into an antechamber where the e-suits were kept. Joe hated sending one of his team into such a dangerous situation. Before he would have done the dangerous bit himself, but now he was CHENG and had too many problems to deal with to do every little dangerous and shitty job. Part of command was sending good people into bad places. Joe would just have to get used to that.

  "We need a sheer fence, Joe," the main propulsion assistant, Lieutenant Commander Keri Benjamin, said. "You know, a metal plate full of holes, or a grate."

  "Maybe that would work," Joe thought out loud, rubbing at his chin. "Would that stop a QMT? Kurt? You're the tech officer."

  "Hell if I know, Joe. That QMT shit is so new I barely even understand why it is possible," Lieutenant Kurt Hyerdahl replied from halfway inside the console that had previously tried to electrocute him.

  "Okay, we'll ask." He had to ask his AIC for the names of the warrant officers assigned to the ship as the QMT experts. Then he got one of them on the horn. "CWO4 Ransom, this is the CHENG!"

  "What can I do for you, CHENG?"

  "Would a metal grate stop a QMT?"

  "No, CHENG. You can QMT through walls, you know."

  "Duh, right. But what about SIFs? Isn't there some interaction with spacetime or the vacuum fluctuations or something that confuses the QMT connection?" Joe asked.

  "Uh, something like that, CHENG. Uh, sir, is this gonna take long, cause, well, we're kinda busy down here." Mr. Ransom seemed a bit uppity to Joe, maybe even constipated.

  "Well, we need to flow air in from the outside without allowing enemy QMTs. Could we put small holes in the SIFs and do that?" There was no immediate answer, which meant that Joe had asked a question that the arrogant CWO4 QMT expert hadn't thought of.

  "Damn, I never thought of that. Hell, you could just make the SIFs a screen instead of a solid field, and think how much energy you'd save on that," he replied.

  Energy saved, hell—think of the heat we wouldn't have to dissipate if the field were half the size due to holes in it, Joe thought. Since it is a surface-area thing, that will be a squared factor! We could increase the SIF lifetime in battle by orders of magnitude.

  We need to get on with this, Joe, his AIC warned him. Time was getting short, and the fucking Seppies were still outside, pounding away at them.

  "Uh, how small do the holes need to be?"

  "My AIC says a tenth of a millimeter in diameter with the same center-to-center spacing. And I bet that is conservative. Damn good idea, CHENG."

  "Right, Mr. Ransom. Thanks for your help. CHENG out."

  "You're welcome, CHENG."

  Joe turned and noticed for the first time the bewilderment on the faces of his engineering crew. He wasn't sure if it was because they were confused or couldn't believe the brilliant idea they had just pulled out of their collective asses. He didn't care. Ideas did nobody any good if you didn't follow through with them.

  "Okay, Kurt, get that damned panel fixed and get on to the next job. Mira, thanks for the sheer-fence idea. I'm reconfiguring the SIFs on the aft section and in nooks and crannies that are unlikely to be hit by enemy fire to have the screen geometry. I'm also doing that over the openings that Andy is making. We'll see how it works."

  "All hands, all hands, prepare for hyperspace jaunt in ten, nine, eight, seven, six . . ."

  "Goddamn, that's a sight," Engineer's Mate Petty Officer First Class Andy Sanchez clanked through the outer dry hull of the aft starboard section where the SIF-generator coolant conduits flowed. Even in his tech e-suit he could feel the radiant heat from the pipes. He looked forward and then aft. As far as he could see was the empty corridor between the outer hull and the next layer that the Navy had called the dry hull since the days of submarines. The corridor was poorly lit, and the white light from his helmet cast eerie shadows across the deck plating. The ship jerked downward fast, making him lose his balance briefly. Andy fell back into the coolant conduit and could feel the heat even through his armored glove and seal layer. "Goddamn it all to fuck, I'd better watch what I'm doing or that fucking thing might fry me."

  Andy crawled up through the bulkhead to the outer hatch and clanked it a few times with the BFW he had brought with him. The technical term for the tool was a "big fucking wrench." After tapping the bolts on the outer hull hatch with the BFW, he placed it on the nuts, let it self-adjust to them, and then he torqued like hell to break them free. After a few seconds the bolts popped loose. He turned the safety latch and was almost sucked out of the ship. As soon as he had pushed the hatch panel up beyond the SIF, air—very fast-moving air—grabbed it and yanked it away. Twilight from the red dwarf shined through, and Andy could see the planet below.

  "That's three. One more to go," he told himself. Then he dropped down to the deck and hurried to the last one of the exterior hatch panels, a good hundred meters away.

  The bolts on the last hatch were more stubborn. Andy tapped them harder with the BFW and tried to torque them loose. No luck. He tapped them again, and this time he sprayed some solvent on them. He tapped them again, and then tried turning them again. One of them broke free, and he managed to get the thing off. The second nut was stuck.

  "Stubborn bastard!" Andy pulled a laser cutter out of his pocket and started in on the bolt with it. About that time, something slammed into the ship above him with so much force the metal vibrated in his hands and made his suit ring.

  "Ahh!" He reflexively grabbed at his ears, which were inside his helmet, of course.

  Then another loud hit and the hatch blew free and the SIF directly above him blinked out for the briefest of instants. That was all it took as the atmosphere rushing over the hull at several hundred kilometers per hour sucked him right out of the blown hatch and into the evening sky. Large orange and green AA tracers zipped all around him, slamming into the ship's hull from the ground below. Andy spun with his arms an
d legs akimbo until he nearly passed out from it. One of the tracer rounds passed right between his legs and nicked his thigh. It burned for a brief second, but the suit sealed it off and killed the pain. Seeing the tracers pass between his legs scared him more than seeing one tear into his leg. His bladder and bowels let loose uncontrollably.

  A few seconds passed, and then he realized that the impact of him hitting the air so abruptly had certainly broken several of his bones. A tech e-suit had minimal armor on it and wasn't designed to take that type of punishment. His right leg, not the one hit by the AA round, was definitely broken. His left arm had banged into the hatch as he was sucked out, and he was sure that the arm and the collarbone were snapped completely. The suit had administered meds to him, or he would've been in so much pain that he would have passed out anyway.

  Andy spun out away from the ship's gravitational field too quickly to fall back to it. He was falling free. He looked down and could see the ground beneath him at about two kilometers. The Madira had already jaunted in to atmospheric entry height of about twenty kilometers and was decelerating to the treetops. The treetops were still a ways off, and now Andy could see the Madira almost a quarter of a kilometer away from him. At one point several mecha zoomed by, shooting at each other. Andy thought he could have reached out and touched the things, until the air wake hit him and sent him spinning again.

  "Oh shit! I don't wanna die like this . . ." Andy closed his eyes as the treetops rushed upward at him. Just as he was bracing himself for death, his heartrate hit nearly two-hundred beats per minute. The next thing he knew, there was a flash of light and the sound of sizzling bacon.

  Chapter 29

  July 1, 2394 AD

  Tau Ceti

  Friday, 3:45 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

  "Dee!" Alexander and Sehera rushed to her. The two of them popped their e-suit helmets and tossed them over their shoulders on the tether. He held his arms open and let her hug him. He couldn't really hug her back in the suit, but he wanted to very badly. He was sure that Sehera felt the same.

  "Daddy!" Dee hugged the armored suit anyway. No matter how tough she was, she was still only eighteen, barely at that, and was daddy's little girl. Moore leaned down as best he could to kiss her on the head. "Mom! What happened? I was there, and then I was back here."

  "Elle Ahmi," Sehera grunted. Sehera looked into her daughter's eyes and added, "Anything you might have learned here is classified. Do you understand that?"

  "That's right, Dee. We'll discuss things later," Alexander added. Dee looked up at them and nodded that she understood. "Now, how do we get you safely out of here?"

  DeathRay and Nancy gave the president and the First Family some room and started trying to find the QMT controls that would get Dee out of there. Thomas and Koodie bounced around the penthouse, looking for the best way out and getting the lowdown of the layout.

  "How do you get in and out of here, Dee?" DeathRay asked.

  "Well, the last time it was through the ceiling in the hands of a Seppy Gnat." She smiled at the pilot.

  "Well, that does us no good now," Moore said.

  Abigail?

  Yes, sir. I'm hacking as best I can. If you don't mind, sir, the CIA agent has a very formidable AIC and I'd like to interface with her.

  Whatever works fastest is fine with me.

  Yes, sir. It would appear that the room is AIC locked, and there is an elevator.

  "The elevator is right here. Only Elle Ahmi can open the damned thing. Bree and I have been trying but with no luck," Dee said.

  "I see. Stand back." Alexander walked over to it and stood atop the elevator. He lowered his HVAR and started blasting the shit out of it until he fell through. He looked up. "I got the elevator unlocked. Come on."

  "Your father sure likes the direct approach." Sehera shook her head.

  "Ms. Moore, listen very carefully," the CIA agent said. "There must be a small QMT pad somewhere nearby. That pad has you tagged somehow and is not letting you travel too far away from it. That is why you snapped back to here after we QMTed before."

  "I understand, uh . . . You are who, exactly?" Dee raised an eyebrow at the stranger with DeathRay.

  "Sorry. You can call me Nancy Penzington." She held out her hand, and Dee shook it. "It is an honor to meet you."

  "She's with the CIA, Dee," DeathRay added.

  "Hmm. Thanks for helping. Uh, there is a pad like that. A small one just big enough for a few people at a time. I saw it on the second floor as they brought me in."

  "Good, that's our way out. We destroy that thing, and the link to you should be cut," Nancy said.

  Sehera dropped through the hole in the floor second. Then Dee, DeathRay, and Nancy. Alexander was listening to the conversation as his two Marine bodyguards helped the nonsuited members of their little band down the hole in the floor. Sehera and Alexander helped them on the bottom. Then the AEMs dropped down the hole.

  "Okay, Dee, take us to this QMT pad," Alexander said.

  "Somebody give me a gun," Dee said, putting her hand on her father's shoulder.

  "Dee, I'm not sure that is—" Thomas started to tell her, but Alexander cut him off.

  "Here, Dee. Don't use it unless you have to. We don't want to draw fire to you if we can avoid it. You don't have any armor on," Moore told her. He popped a panel on his left thigh armor and pointed out a railpistol designed for human hands, not suit hands. It was a standard survival component of the suit. Dee reached in and pulled out the gun and checked it as if she had seen it all her life. In fact, she had. She had trained in all things U.S. Marine since she was twelve.

  "Right, Daddy. Come on. Listen—there are holowalls everywhere here with security guards hiding behind them. There is one on the second floor as soon as we get out of the elevator by a bust of some old guy."

  "That's good to know," Thomas replied.

  "Thomas, I'm sorry to tell you, but, Clay is dead."

  "We know, Dee. Your AIC got the message to us before the long-range comms were knocked out. Sorry to hear. Clay was a good man," Thomas said.

  "Thomas, Koodie, you two are closest to the door. As soon as it opens, get out and rush that bust. Dee, you stay put," Moore ordered.

  "Yes, sir."

  The elevator dinged, and the second floor light lit up. A second or two later the doors slid open. The hall appeared empty. Thomas and Koodie jumped out as best they could and pumped several rounds through the wall near the only bust in the room. There were some sounds of something falling, and then blood spilled through the holographic wall as it oozed onto the floor.

  "Check it, Koodie," Thomas told him.

  "Got it," he said and disappeared through the wall. He stepped back through. "Clear!"

  The rest of the team poured out of the elevator.

  "This way," Dee said, pointing the railpistol down the hallway.

  Like father, like daughter, Abigail thought to Alexander.

  Elle Ahmi stood on the QMT facility control bridge looking out the zoom-window at the Jovian's rings and at her beautiful planet Ares below. She took a deep breath and sighed, because she knew things weren't as peaceful as they looked. Only moments before, she had been warned that the U.S. had sent a fleet of ships to Ross 128, and so she sent hers there to stop them. Following that, what must be the remainder of the U.S. fleet, seven supercarriers, had QMTed into existence just above New Tharsis there in the Tau Ceti system. That goddamned Alexander Moore had balls. The only way those fleet ships could return to the Sol System would be to take over her QMT facility. And Elle Ahmi was not going to let that shit happen without a big fucking fight. She zoomed in on the planet to get a better look at the ships. They were already dispersing formation and firing on key targets around the capital city of the Separatists.

  "Ma'am?" a tech called for her attention.

  "Yes?"

  "We have the QMT long range up and have Admiral Maximillian on the line," the tech said.

  "Great. Put him through here on this s
creen." She nodded to the man. He turned and punched in some commands on a console across the room, and her screen faded out to solid blue briefly. She could see the reflection of the red, white, and blue ski mask in the screen. Then it blinked on, and there was Max.

  "Admiral Maximillian." She smiled at her commanding general, or admiral in this case. "How is the battle going there?"

  "Not as good as we hoped, ma'am. There were four U.S. supercarriers originally, and we were winning. We actually totally destroyed one of them. Seconds ago, four more U.S. ships QMTed into the system and have reinvigorated the U.S. fighting spirit." The admiral looked a bit haggard. Elle didn't like the sound of his voice, either. He sounded nervous.

  "And the ground forces? How is the governor holding out?"

  "They are holding their own for now, but the tide seems to be turning. The numbers are almost even here, ma'am. It could go either way," Admiral Maximillian replied.

  "Not good, Max." Elle thought to her AIC for moment and discussed through her mindvoice some alternatives until she settled on a course of action. "Max. Tell the governor he'll just have to make do on his own. Ares is under attack. From the numbers you are telling me, we have split the U.S. fleet. The other half of it is here in the Tau Ceti system now. There are seven supercarriers here. I need you here. Now!"

  "Understood, ma'am. We'll jaunt to the QMT gate and jump immediately."

  "Great. Hurry, Max. Hurry," Elle said and motioned to the tech to cut the transmission. "Get me Captain Tangiers, now!"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  A second or two later, Elise Tangiers appeared on the screen. Elise had helped Elle fund the Separatist movement for decades. Her family had owned one of the largest shipping companies in the Sol System, and they had used those ships—the so-called Seppy haulers—for more than just cargo on a number of ocassions.

  "Elise, Ares is under attack! I need you to scramble whatever ships you can muster to hold them off until our fleet returns from Ross 128," Elle ordered her.

  "I seem to recall telling you that I didn't think we were ready to spread ourselves so thin just yet. We can't protect ourselves and the Ross 128 system," Tangiers said smugly.