Another man walked by, half-naked, busy brushing his teeth. He came to a hasty stop when he saw them standing in the open doorway. Thrusting out his hairy chest, he saluted and exclaimed, “Admiwal!” lisping around his sonic toothbrush.
“What’s he doing here?” Atta asked.
“He’s the Rictans’ new squadron commander,” Therius replied.
“Their what?” Atta burst out. “He just got here! He hasn’t even begun training!”
“He’s an excellent fighter pilot, and he’s already spent plenty of time in a Nova cockpit.”
“Even if that’s so, I doubt he has the commando training. How much time has he spent in a Zephyr?”
So this was a hybrid squadron. Ethan hadn’t actually spent any time piloting a mech, but how hard could it be? Nova pilots called mech pilots stompers for a reason. Piloting a mech was intuitive, but flying a starfighter was definitely not.
Despite his confidence, he was just as surprised as Atta that he’d been summarily appointed to be a squadron commander just a few short hours after he’d arrived.
“He’s done a kind of commando training,” Therius said. “He was a stim runner in the old Imperium and in the Null Zone, so he knows how to take care of himself.”
“With respect, sir,” Atta went on, “if you want Ethan to be in this squadron, don’t make him their commander. Make him their boot-polisher and see how he handles that first.”
Chuckles rippled through the room and a few appreciative hoots and whistles reached Ethan’s ears.
Atta was popular with the thugs… Interesting.
“That’s enough!” Therius boomed. Silence echoed. “His appointment is not up for discussion. Miss Heston, I’m going to leave you to make the introductions, and please see to it that he gets a uniform and jumpsuit with a commander’s rank insignia. In case you need some help adding up all the bars and chevrons, that means he also outranks you, Field General, so I would show a little more respect if I were you. As for the rest of you, I expect you to give Ethan a proper Rictans’ welcome to the squadron.”
“Yes, sur!” the man with the toothbrush said, saluting once more.
Therius turned and left, waving the door shut behind him. People eyed Ethan for a long, silent moment. Then the black man stood up and sauntered over, all the while looking him up, down, and sideways. The man came right up to within a hand’s breadth of Ethan’s face. He caught a noxious whiff of sweat, homemade grog, and bad cologne.
The black man’s nose twitched and the corners of his mouth turned down, as if he was the one who’d caught a whiff of something sour. You should smell yourself, Ethan thought.
“I smell fear,” the man said in a deep, gravelly voice.
Ethan tried to remember that he outranked this man, even if he didn’t have the uniform to prove it yet. “Actually, I think that smell is coming from your armpits,” he replied.
More laughter rippled from the others in the room, but subdued this time. Atta cracked a smile and shook her head.
The black man sneered and loomed closer. “You want to be a Rictan? Let’s put you to the test. See how much ya know. You got twenty drones on your tail; you’re pissin’ your pants you’re so scared, and all the piss is runnin’ down into your boots ‘cause you’re pulling five g’s over what your IMS can take. You’ve got half a second before they turn your sorry ass into plasma, but wait! Your wingman just called for help. What’s your move, greeny?”
“That depends, are we in atmosphere or space?”
“Atmosphere.” The word was a growl as it rolled off the other man’s lips.
“What are the specs on a drone fighter?”
The man took a full step back, his eyes flew wide, and one corner of his mouth slumped with derision. “You don’t know? Well frek me!” The black man threw up his hands and turned in a circle to address everyone else in the room. “This is your new commander, everyone! He wants to know what are the specs on a drone fighter!” Turning back to him, the man sneered. “I’m gonna give you a hint. The answer ain’t got to do with tactics, fighter specs, or pilotin’ skill.”
Ethan arched an eyebrow.
“The answer is, you go help your wingman. It doesn’t matter if you just had your leg blown off. Your brother calls for help, you crawl over to him, and you help. That’s what it means to be a Rictan.”
Ethan nodded, trying not to take the hazing personally. He would have to prove his worth to these men in the cockpit. “Fair enough. Who was your commander before me?” Ethan asked.
“You’re lookin’ at him!”
That made sense. “You have a name?”
“Sure, name’s Lieutenant, and that’s all you’re gonna get outta of me. None of us gotta ask each other’s names—we’re the Black Rictans, and we all brothers, but you… you just another clone.”
“Aren’t you a clone?”
“It’s a metaphor. Oh, motherfrek it! Just do us all a favor and transfer to someone else’s squadron, cause we don’t need you here, you copy me, Commander?”
“The admiral seems to think you do, but what about if you prove you don’t need me, Lieutenant, and then I go.”
“How’s that?”
“We battle it out in the simulators. I score higher than you, I stay. You score higher than me, I go.”
For a while the man just stared at him.
“We do have simulators, right?”
“Yea we got ‘em spaceside aboard the Liberator. Rules of engagement?”
“No rules.”
“All right, but you gotta prove yourself on our turf, greeny, and that ain’t air or land—it’s both. You beat me in a Nova and a Zephyr, and you stay. Lose in just one, and you go.”
“Deal,” Ethan said, before he could stop himself.
Then the man slapped him hard across the face. Ethan took a moment to recover from that. That was a step too far. “Did you just strike a superior officer?” he asked in an icy whisper.
“Frek no, you think I’m a skiff?” The man pulled back abruptly, giving him another look of incredulity. “That’s how we show each other re-spect in the Rictans, but you ain’t bin here, so you don’t know that yet.”
“I see.” Ethan reached out to slap the lieutenant back, but the man caught his wrist in a vice grip before he could.
“I’m your subordinate. You don’t need to go respectin’ me, sir.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. It was a load of krak and they both knew it, but rather than deal with it head-on, he smiled and turned the other cheek—literally—to find Atta watching him with considerable amusement.
“We should go get my uniform, Field General,” he said.
Atta nodded and led the way back out into the hallway. Once the door slid shut behind them, Ethan let out a breath.
“What was that?” he asked. “Is everyone in the Union so poorly disciplined?”
“They had to earn their chevrons. Magnum is just sore because you swept his squad out from under him a week before we launch for Avilon. He’s been training here as long as I have.”
Ethan considered that as they walked down the hallway. “How long is that?”
“It’s been more than eight years now.”
“That long?” Ethan was shocked. “You must have been…”
“A little girl.”
“How did you even get here? The last time I saw you and your mother was in Dark Space.”
“It’s a long story,” Atta said. “I grew up here with these people and the Gors. The Sythians, too, but they mostly stick to themselves. I know just about everyone here, even the newcomers—though most of them don’t end up being appointed commanders of elite combat units right out of the clone tank.”
“So that’s why you don’t like me?”
Atta stopped and turned to him, her eyes dull and full of strained patience. “What makes you think I don’t like you?”
“That look on your face, for one thing.”
She sighed. “It’s not you, Ethan.”
“We’re all tense. I haven’t been sleeping for weeks, and yeah, I don’t like being outranked by a newcomer like you, but we’re in different branches of the fleet anyway, so I guess that makes you Magnum’s problem, not mine.”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Atta looked around quickly, as if checking to see that no one else was around to hear; then she pulled him aside and waved open another door. As soon as they were through, she waved the door shut behind them. Ethan saw that they were in some kind of utility locker.
Atta whispered, “Something’s going on around here. Our captain, Captain Hale is Therius’s second-in-command. She knows something, but she’s not talking. There have been rumors, though.”
“What kind of rumors?” Ethan asked.
“Rumors that we’re hopelessly outmatched, that Omnius has some kind of super-ship waiting in reserve.”
“The Icosahedron,” Ethan said.
“How did you know that?”
“I overheard your captain talking with Therius in his office. They were arguing actually.”
“And?” she whispered.
“It’s true. Therius knows we don’t stand a chance. He’s planning to plant nanite bombs on Avilon and threaten Omnius with the extinction of the human race. Therius thinks the big eye in the sky will back down if he’s faced with an eternity of solitude.”
“What? That’s frekked up, Ethan. Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“This is bad,” Atta said, shaking her head.
“You’re telling me. My family is on Avilon. And if I know Omnius, he’d rather let us kill ourselves than have us get the better of him.”
“Then we have to stop this.”
“I agree,” Ethan said.
“But how… ?”
Ethan shook his head. “If we could find out where the bombs are going to be, maybe we could disarm them.”
Atta looked up quickly.
“You know something?”
“My battalion has some type of capsule to take down to the surface. It’s magnetically-sealed and heavily-shielded. I assumed it has something to do with the Eclipser, but now I’m not so sure. It could be filled with nanites for all we know. I can talk to the other ground teams and see if they have anything similar. If they do, those are probably the bombs.”
Ethan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Sounds like a plan.”
“It’s a start. What else did you hear?”
“That was it.”
“What about the Icosahedron? Any idea what it is?”
“From what they were saying, it’s what you said—some kind of super-ship. They sounded convinced that we wouldn’t have a chance against it.”
“So this is a lost cause.”
Ethan shook his head. “Not lost. If nothing else we may have a chance to rescue our families. Is your father here?”
Something broke behind Atta’s gray eyes and he caught a glimpse of her as a child, looking lonely and scared. “No,” she said. “You didn’t see him on Avilon?”
Ethan nodded. “I did…”
Relief loosened the tightness around Atta’s eyes.
“But I also saw you and your mother.”
Atta’s brow furrowed. “I’m there?”
Ethan nodded.
Atta blew out a breath. “That’s frekked up.”
“So what now?”
Atta pursed her lips. “We get you your uniform,” she said. “And for now, keep what you told me to yourself. We don’t want it getting back to Therius’s ears that we’re planning to find a way to stop him.”
“Agreed,” Ethan replied.
Atta walked over to the far wall of the utility locker, and Ethan saw row upon row of white uniforms and jumpsuits hanging on a rack.
“Oh,” he said. “I thought you brought me in here to talk.”
“I did,” she said, handing him a squadron commander’s insignia and a Star of Etherus to pin on his uniform. “But it was also our destination.”
Ethan eyed the insignia in his palm—two gold chevrons and a silver Nova fighter emblazoned in the middle. It was identical to the old ISSF insignia. “How did they get these?”
“It was easier to use the old surplus aboard the derelict ships we refitted for our fleet than to fabricate something new. Uniforms were another matter. Most of them were either shot full of holes or already worn out from decades of disuse. Personally, I would have gone with ISSF black, but Therius prefers white. It’s a devlin to keep clean, even with the self-cleaning fibers.”
“I see,” Ethan said, accepting a dress uniform and a pilot’s jumpsuit. “Now what?”
“You get dressed.”
He eyed her pointedly.
She rolled her eyes and turned around. “I see naked men all day long. No need to be shy.”
“All day long? I wouldn’t tell your mother that.”
“I meant—”
Ethan chuckled. “I know what you meant.” He disrobed and pulled on his jumpsuit. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d worn, but it would do. “All right. You can turn around,” he said while clipping on his rank insignia and star.
Atta turned and nodded appreciatively. “Now you look the part of a commander.”
“Time to act it.”
“You won’t beat Magnum in a Zephyr.”
Ethan grinned. “You sure about that?”
Atta looked puzzled. “You do know who the Black Rictans are, don’t you?”
It was Ethan’s turn to be confused. “Should I?”
“Well, they’re from your time, so yeah.”
“My time?”
“Before the Sythian invasion. They were an Imperial spec ops team, and from what I hear, they were pretty famous.”
“So you’re saying there’s no way I’m beating one of them in a Zephyr.”
Atta looked thoughtful. “Well… maybe one way.”
“How’s that?”
“I’m going to help you.”
* * *
Hoff sat down to eat with his wife and daughter.
“How was work?” Destra asked, while they waited for their servant drone, Triple Nine, to bring the food. Hoff could hear her clanking around in the kitchen—not that her was a meaningful distinction for a drone.
Hoff shook his head. “Same as usual.” What could he say? Omnius was using his family to blackmail him into being the leader of the largest Bliss distribution empire this side of Avilon.
“Good, then?”
“Good. Yes.”
Destra gave him an annoyed look. She didn’t like how close-lipped he’d been since they’d left Etheria. He’d lied to his wife in the past about what he was doing, and she suspected he was doing it again.
She was right.
Triple Nine hove into view balancing a large platter of food in one hand, and a stack of plates and cutlery in the other.
“Good evening.”
Hoff eyed the platter, his nose twitching. “What’s that?”
“Tonight we have stonefish fillet and roasted squash with a honey-drizzled snowberry pie for dessert,” Triple Nine replied.
“Sounds yummy,” Atta said, rubbing her hands together.
Hoff favored his daughter with a smile. She was almost seventeen now, and more beautiful than ever. She wouldn’t change much from this point on. Omnius had frozen the aging process for all the clones at twenty-one. As a result, he and Destra looked more like Atta’s siblings than her parents. Unfortunately in the Null Zone their youth and beauty made all of them targets. They looked out of place, and immortal clones were not welcome among mortals. If it weren’t for Triple Nine, they’d all have been killed several times already.
Turning to the living room, Hoff waved the holoscreen on. It was already set to the local news, so he didn’t need to change the channel. An aging Null reporter appeared in front of a burning building on the surface of Avilon.
“The White Skulls struck aga
in this morning in what appears to be yet another retaliatory gesture. At nine o’clock this morning, a firebomb exploded, burning up this convenience store in seconds, with its owner still inside. According to Enforcer reports, the storekeeper turned in a pair of local Bliss pushers just two days before the incident occurred, and eye witnesses confirm that they saw known White Skulls members exiting the store less than an hour prior to the incident. The message seems to be clear: you blow the whistle on us, and we’ll blow you up.”
“Switch that off, Hoff. This is family time.”
Hoff waved the screen off and turned away slowly, his cheeks slack, his face pale. He didn’t order that retaliation. In fact, he’d specifically ordered everyone to stop all the unnecessary violence. Omnius was forcing them to distribute Bliss, but they didn’t need to go around killing innocent people to do it.
“Hoff? Are you okay?”
He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m fine, just tired,” he said, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
Destra placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. “You’ve been working too hard. You need to take a break.”
“Yes… I think you’re right.” Hoff looked up to see Triple Nine staring at him with her glowing white photoreceptors. “Would you like some wine to ease your nerves, sir?”
Hoff stared into those artificial eyes. Nine’s face was expressionless, but he could have sworn there was amusement shining in her luminous eyes, as if Omnius were looking through her and laughing at him.
“Yes, please,” he said.
“I’ll be right back,” Nine said.
Hoff watched her go clanking off, her mirror-smooth armor throwing off sharp slices of light as she moved. That drone wasn’t just a guardian; she was also an insurance policy to keep him in line. Triple Nine was a deadly reminder that he had no choice. Either he led the White Skulls and took part in their crimes, or Nine would turn on his family, and he would lose his wife and daughter forever.
Armageddon Page 24
