Man of War (Rebellion Book 1)
Page 8
He turned his head slightly so he could see her, on her back with her head only inches from his. She had her eyes closed, thinking her own thoughts while they floated. Was she thinking about Gibbons, too? About children? He had known her since she had been born. He was seven at the time, and already best friends with Matteo. It seemed strange to him that she would be a mother. He felt too young to be a father, and she was so much younger than him. Was it what she wanted, or what she felt she needed to do? The resistance was slowly dwindling, their numbers dropping every year. If they could clone people like the Dread did, instead of having to reproduce them the old fashioned way, maybe they would stand a chance.
"Do you want to bring a child into this world?" he said out loud without thinking.
Diaz's eyes opened, and she turned her head enough to see him. "What?"
"I was thinking about Gibbons and you. Do you really think it will change anything?"
She positioned her head straight up again. "I want to believe it would," she said. "But I don't know. You're projecting my offhand chatter pretty far."
"I'm tired, and I lost a lot of blood," he said. "I couldn't help but start thinking about everything. I don't know if it's my mind that's tricking me, or if I'm more sane than usual. You've seen what's been happening here in Mexico; I know you have. I've heard it's worse in other places. That the resistance has been wiped out. Japan, Nigeria, Florida. We lose another base every week."
"Those are only rumors."
"Are they? We lost sixteen people today, Renata. How many soldiers does that leave us with?"
She was silent while she listed the names in her head. Just the fact that she could name them all was enough of an answer. "Twenty-six."
"We can't keep going like this. It would take you the rest of your reproductive life to replace what we lost in five minutes."
"So what do you think we should do?" Diaz asked, annoyed. "Give up? Kill ourselves and save the Dread the trouble."
"No. I'm not saying we should ever give up. I think we need to change our tactics or something. Maybe forget about the messengers and focus on fighting our own war. How many people have we lost getting these transmissions out?"
"A lot. We need the space forces. We can't do anything about orbital bombardment without them, and that's exactly what the Dread will do if we start gathering in large numbers again. You remember Charlotte, don't you?"
It was one of the stories that was told around the mess. A free human force of nearly ten-thousand had managed to assemble there. They even swarmed a Dread armor and almost got it to topple. Then the enemy had sent a plasma flume down on them, bathing the armor and the city both. The city was slagged a second time.
The armor wasn't even scratched. In fact, as the legend went, the excited energy had cleaned it up real nice.
"I don't know if we have ten-thousand left in the world," Donovan said.
"Can you try not to sound so dour?" Diaz said. "The last thing we need is to beat ourselves."
Donovan was silent.
"Anyway," Diaz said, "I don't think you're completely wrong. What we've been doing hasn't been working well. I think we've gotten too predictable. The Dread know when we're going to be transmitting. They're waiting for us. We need to take them by surprise."
"How?"
"If I knew that, I'd be the General. Everything we can think of would be easier to say than do."
"How I'd love to get a bullet through that armor of theirs just once," Donovan said. "How I'd love to see the look on one of their faces."
"Fifty years, and nobody even knows what they look like," Diaz said. "To be honest, it is hard to stay upbeat when everything seems so hopeless. But what else can we do? No, I don't think having kids will help the overall fight, but it's still important. We have to keep our hope, or we might as well let ourselves die right here and now."
Donovan locked eyes with Diaz. "Well, I'm not going to let you die, so I guess that means I can't let myself die either."
"I think you've got that reversed, amigo. I'm the one saving you."
"Oh? I'm the man here, Lieutenant. And the CO. I'm saving-"
He didn't get to finish his comment. Without warning, the water, and the pipe they had been traveling in vanished beneath them.
NINETEEN
They went over the edge together, losing their grip on one another as the pipe opened up and spilled out into a deep well.
Donovan made a better landing this time, keeping his body knife straight and cutting through the pool below, sinking deep enough that his feet scraped the bottom. There hadn't been time to hold his breath, and he kicked furiously to get himself to the surface once more.
His head broke the water, and he took in air while he looked around, suddenly fearful. They appeared to be in a collection area of some kind, with pipes trailing into the large underground space from every direction. He found a small ledge on the south side, where a small control room sat unoccupied, a glowing screen visible through a window; a computer awaiting instructions from handlers that would never return.
Diaz was already at the ledge, pulling herself onto it. He swam more slowly now, letting the apparent safety of the place allow him to relax a little bit.
She was in the control room by the time he dragged himself onto the platform.
"I thought you were taking care of me," he said, struggling to get up with one arm.
"You're the man and the CO. I figured you could handle it."
He regretted starting the macho humor, peering past her at the control screen. "What is this place?"
"Flood control. We were luckier than I realized."
"That pipe only fills when it's been raining a lot?" Donovan said.
"Si. The pipes lead from smaller drainage areas throughout the city, collecting the rainwater and bringing it through here before sending it on to be purified. All that rain the last couple of weeks left the tank nearly full, which is a good thing for us. It would have been a painful landing."
"I can't believe that thing is still working," he said, motioning to the control pad.
"It isn't. The last line says 'critical error.' I think it can cut off the flow to this tank and divert to another one in case it starts to overfill. We're lucky that didn't happen or we would have drowned for sure."
"Lucky us," Donovan deadpanned, shifting his arm. It was starting to throb again, the wound disturbed by the fall.
"We aren't dead yet. That has to be good for something."
"Only if there's a way out."
Diaz pointed behind him. He turned around, smiling when he saw the open doorway and the sign that read "Salida." Exit.
"Perfect," he said. Something had gone right today.
They moved to the door, passing through and following it to the left. There was a second door, there, also open, which lead to a narrow set of iron stairs that smelled of dampness and decay. Donovan grabbed the railing and started to ascend.
"Try to keep quiet," Diaz said. "We don't know where we are, or what might be out here."
"Yes, sir," Donovan replied, saluting her and causing a sharp jolt of pain in his arm.
"Was it worth it?" Diaz asked.
Donovan shrugged and kept climbing, lifting his head so he could see the top of the stairwell. It was a good thirty meters up. The door at the top was closed.
It didn't take long to ascend. They stopped in front of the closed door, and Donovan put his ear to it to listen. He didn't hear anything on the other side, and so he tried the manual handle. It was an old door to an old system. The door clicked as it came free of the latch, and he pulled it open slowly, peering out into the darkness beyond. The area was deserted.
"Come on," he whispered, moving out into the open.
They cleared the doorway, finding themselves inside a small concrete bunker. It was the outer entrance to the system below. A final door rested between them and the outside world.
"When we go through the door, I'll get our bearings, and then we run back to base," h
e said. "We don't slow down for anything."
"Can you make it?" Diaz asked. "You lost a lot of blood."
"As long as my adrenaline holds out. I'm sure I'll pay for it tomorrow."
"Okay. I'm ready."
Donovan approached the door, listening against it one more time. He could hear a faint noise in the background, a soft hum that could have been anything. It was probably the pump that ran the purification system.
He grabbed the manual handle again and started to turn it. The door was unlocked, and he let it click softly before starting to push it open.
He had only moved it six inches when the sight of what lay beyond made his heart begin to race, and he pulled it quickly and quietly back closed.
"Dios Mio," he said, turning to face Diaz.
"What is it?" Diaz asked.
"I don't believe it," Donovan said, stunned by what he had seen. "We're in. We're inside."
"Inside what?" Diaz's face took on a look of excited curiosity.
"The city. The Dread city."
TWENTY
Gabriel couldn't help but smile as Captain Sturges guided the transport into Delta Station's waiting hangar. After everything he had learned during his hours on Alpha Settlement, he was glad to be home.
The BIS touched down on the floor of the hangar, magnetic clamps catching the tiny skids at the bottom of the box and holding it in place while the smaller bay doors were slowly closed. Once they had sealed and locked, the compressed air that was sucked from the chamber was released back in, pressurizing the area. The suppressors were re-activated, returning gravity to the space as well.
The red light in the BIS's cockpit turned green. Sturges turned in his seat to face Gabriel.
"I'm sorry about all of this garbage with the Council," he said, absently tapping the control pad to open the rear cargo door. The transport had been loaded up with foodstuffs and laundered uniforms, among other things. "If there's anything Siddhu or I can do to help, you just let me know."
"Thank you, Paul," Gabriel said. "I don't know if there's anything that anyone can do. It seems the people with the most pull have made up their minds. That doesn't mean I'm not going to try."
"I'm with you, Gabriel. Whatever you need."
Gabriel nodded, squeezing the older man's shoulder on his way to the back. He angled around the cargo and past the crew that was waiting to unload it.
"Captain," the Logistics Officer, Second Lieutenant Daphne O'Dea said, saluting him as he departed.
"Lieutenant," Gabriel said, returning the salute. "Let me know if there are any treats in the resupply, will you?"
"For you or Wallace?" she asked.
Gabriel spread his hands innocently. "Does it matter?"
"Only one of you is cute enough to over-ration. By the way, it's good to have you back."
"Thanks, Daphne. How's Soon?"
She shook her head. "Don't get me started. He's been trying to fix that old inverter again. He nearly blew a hole in our quarters and vented us into space."
Gabriel smiled. Captain Soon Kim considered himself a tinkerer, but he rarely got the things he tinkered with working again. He and Daphne had only been married a few months, and the honeymoon was close to being over. Captain Kim was next up on the mission detail.
"Well, tell him I said hello if I don't see him first," Gabriel said. It had been almost thirty hours since he had slept, and he was planning to head directly to his quarters to drop.
"Will do. See you later, Gabriel."
Gabriel passed across the hangar towards the exit. His eyes wandered to the starfighter bays on his left. They only had five left. Six if he counted the one that had been left on Manhattan. Engineering could probably print more if they were given clearance, but considering current events he doubted that would happen.
He moved from the hangar into the network of corridors that ran across Delta Station. Everything was a mixture of gray metal and small viewports here, a spiderweb of identical hallways that were hard to navigate for cadets fresh out of training. When Gabriel had first arrived, he had made it a point to learn the layout of the station within his first twenty-four hours. Even then, it had taken him forty-eight.
He had no trouble finding his way around now. He had seen every corridor so many times he could point out all of the scratches, dents, and smudges that identified one against another, and he could get anywhere in the base faster than many of the others. Some only bothered to learn their routes and didn't care about the rest. He wasn't like that.
He passed by the gym, waving at the few soldiers inside who were keeping their strength up with basic weights and cardio. It was simple throwback tech that was easy to produce and maintain and just as effective as programmed muscle stimulation and bio-electric conditioning, even if it took more overall effort. From there, he dropped four levels down, further into the spike where berthing was located. As a Captain, he had his own living space on the second level, a fifty square meter apartment complete with a bedroom, bathroom, and den. It was as sparsely produced and decorated as everything else on the station, but it had a full-sized transparency with a nice view of Manhattan, and it was a place to call home.
He finally reached his quarters, having grown more tired with each step he took. It was more than the lack of sleep. He couldn't get his father's words out of his head. Or his tears. Half of the people on the Council wouldn't have been alive if it hadn't been for Juliet St. Martin. He would have hoped they would have more respect for her sacrifice.
He tapped his palm against the door, and it slid aside. Wallace was waiting behind it, as expected. Gabriel could feel his depressed mood turning slightly as the Golden Retriever started whining and wagging his tail, sitting obediently and waiting for him to pour on the attention.
"Hey, Wallace," Gabriel said, stepping over the threshold and reaching down to pet the dog's head. "How are you doing, buddy?"
There weren't a lot of pets in the colony, but there were some, incubated and born in the laboratories in Charlie Settlement from the frozen sperm and eggs that had been loaded onto the Magellan. The colony had access to over ten-thousand species, though only three dog breeds and one cat had been born so far. Wallace had half the genes of Theodore's pet Golden, Po'boy, who had died during the invasion.
Wallace's tail continued to swish back and forth as Gabriel moved further into his quarters, petting him as he did. Wallace had been a gift from his father after Jessica had died. It was a misguided but otherwise meaningful effort to help him adjust to her loss, and to be honest, to an extent it had.
"Yeah, it's been a rough day at work," Gabriel said. "I missed you, too. Remind me to thank Miranda for taking care of you while I was gone."
Wallace looked up at him, mouth open and tongue hanging out.
"Scientists," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "They don't care about people. They care about proving themselves right. Earth is our planet. Right, buddy?"
Wallace nuzzled Gabriel's hand.
"I saw one of their satellites get blown apart. I know it's possible. Maybe if they put as much energy into figuring that out as they have bent over blurry images of sensor readings."
Gabriel pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, taking everything off until he was in a white t-shirt and underwear. He looked out the one-way transparency to Manhattan below, the outline of the Magellan visible beneath a light dust storm. He stared at it for a moment, remembering the look in his father's eyes again before crossing to his bedroom and laying down. Wallace jumped on the bed next to him, immediately curling up on the free side.
They were both asleep within minutes.
TWENTY-ONE
Gabriel woke six hours later. Wallace was still laying beside him though he had changed position to stretch his body across the bed and lay his head on a pillow.
"Lazy mutt," Gabriel said, reaching over and patting the side of the dog.
Wallace turned his head for a moment and then rolled onto his back so Gabriel could reach his stomach.
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"Spoiled, lazy mutt," Gabriel said.
He slid off the bed and onto his feet, crossing to the bathroom. He pulled off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, tapping the regulator that would give him three minutes of hot water every twenty-four hours. No more. No less.
He let the infused water clean off the grime, taking the full minutes before toweling off and throwing on a pair of utilities. He was off-duty for the next three days, and he was hungry.
"Come on, buddy," he said to Wallace, crossing the front of his quarters. "Let's see what's for breakfast."
Wallace's ears perked up at the word, and he rushed ahead to the door. He started whining a moment before a tone signaled someone was at the door.
Gabriel tapped the panel to open it, finding Miranda on the other side.
"Gabriel," she said, surprised. "I didn't know you were back."
"Yup. I hitched a ride with Captain Sturges. I couldn't take being in Alpha any longer than I had to."
Miranda kneeled to pet Wallace, looking up at him while she spoke. "Is it your father?"
"Believe it or not, he was the best part of the trip. It's everything else that's going to hell."
"Oh? What do you mean?"
"You haven't heard the rumors about leaving Calawan?"
"I've heard them. I didn't think they were very serious. You know how we NEA types like to gossip."
"Well, they're serious. Not only that, but General Cave is backing the idea."
Miranda stood, clearly shocked. "General Cave?"
"Even worse, he told my father what they plan to do. I got a few minutes with him before the meds knocked him out again. You should have seen the look in his eyes. I can't forget it."
"They're only trying to do what's best for everyone."
"That's what General Cave and Colonel Graham said. And maybe they are trying to do the best for the people in Calawan. The humans here don't count as everyone."
"You mean Earth? I get where you're coming from, Gabe. I do. I swear. But we've never even been able to hurt the Dread. How are we supposed to help the people on Earth?"