That was the most hellish part of this. She couldn’t imagine the captain, let alone Taulbee, would leave his marines stranded if he knew there was a chance. Which meant they’d either been forced to leave the area, or they’d been destroyed.
After what they’d seen inside Mira, the lifeforms, the strange experiments, and the photon-stealing, well, presence they’d encountered, did she really believe those things couldn’t have attacked the ship? No. She knew they were capable. And they probably had.
“Because we woke it up,” she said.
You don’t know that, a voice said inside her head. Maybe it was already awake when we got there. We just, well, maybe accelerated the process. Put it into overdrive.
Maybe we did, she thought. But it still didn’t make sense. If the Trio knew what had happened, what had really happened, to the ship, why wouldn’t they have warned humanity? And if they did, then why didn’t SF Gov do anything about it? The Trident Shipyards had been designed to construct entire fleets of specialized mining, supply, and military vessels to make the search for new resources.
Trident Shipyards was another derelict. And in many ways, so was Trident Station. A small crew inhabiting a workable, livable, modular area that had been designed to house as many 5,000 military and civilian personnel. The Shipyards also had areas for habitation—the mechanics and engineers needed some place to stay.
As far as she knew, they’d never been used. Never. Mira was the last ship to make a maiden voyage from Trident Station, and the only one ever built. SF Gov had completely abandoned the project once Mira had disappeared. Now only an SFMC maintenance crew, support crew, and the three hardly used S&R crews remained.
As a Martian, she knew damned well how intensely stupid SF Gov could be, but she couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t have taken this threat seriously. Unless they didn’t know about it.
“Trio,” she whispered. “You motherfuckers.”
Why? Why had they essentially brought the threat to humanity’s front door? And even so, why hadn’t they warned anyone? What did they want? To exterminate us?
She sneered.
If they were capable of keeping SF Gov ignorant of what had happened, then she couldn’t imagine they didn’t have the resources to keep the exo-solar lifeforms a secret until it was way too late to stop them.
PEO had sent the transmission to Trident Station to alert them to Mira’s approach. Human beings had gotten that message and sent S&R Black out here, presumably to tow the infamous ship.
“So why warn us at all?” she said aloud.
Yes, that was the question, wasn’t it? There was something she wasn’t seeing. Something she didn’t understand, or know. All she knew was that she wanted to get the fuck out of here and back to S&R Black.
If it’s still there, a gravelly voice tittered in her mind.
Kali winced. If. The whole goddamned universe had become ifs and maybes and wild-assed assumptions. She didn’t want to die in this tin can, but she wanted to die ignorant even less.
Something caught her peripheral vision and she quickly flipped her eyes from the corner she’d been using back to the other side. Nothing was there. She waited a few seconds for the goose pimples to cease crawling up and down her flesh. She was about to relax when something moved again.
Kali quickly slid her eyes to stare at that side and leaned back quickly. There was a shadow out there, a large one, of something that could move in z-g as easily as a fish in water. She shivered and reflexively reached for the rifle locked to her back. Her fingers slid off the stock, shaking.
There was nothing she could do. Oh, she could blow the hatch and head outside to face the threat, but she’d be out there all alone, unable to sweep and clear a 360° view around her. And with creatures that could swarm from any direction, that surely meant death.
No, she had to sit here and wait in this tin can. Although the confines were luxurious compared to what they’d experienced inside Mira, it was just another trapped space. Rations, water, air, the escape pod had all the amenities. But with the engines off, it was just a warm, hospitable coffin-in-waiting. If S&R Black was still out there somewhere, she’d just have to wait for them. If they weren’t, and the pod had malfunctioned, she couldn’t even make it back to Pluto. Her only real chance would be to head back to Mira.
“Fuck that,” she said aloud. Depending on how far the escape pod had traveled before shutting down, she could conceivably make it back to the derelict using her suit thrusters. The pod had extra fuel for those too. But why? Most of Mira had been depressurized, was at near absolute zero temperatures, and she’d have to face hordes of those creatures just to make it to a safe harbor. If, that was, any still existed.
Whatever had come out of the cargo bay hatch and into the science section had been something new. She’d only caught a glimpse of it before Dickerson threw her into the pod and ejected her into space.
She grunted. Dickerson. That fucker better still be alive so I can kick him in the balls, she thought. He had taken the damaged pod against her orders. Insubordination. Mutiny. Another void-damned mark on his jacket. And yet, he’d probably saved her life.
He might be out here too somewhere. Or maybe his escape pod didn’t eject at all. Or, possibly, he had made it out only to die in an explosion or be headed out into the deep Kuiper Belt, one day to travel into the Oort Cloud as nothing more than frozen corpse. When the air ran out, the heat ran out, and the provisions ran out, death was a certainty. She wondered if he’d simply open the hatch and let the void take him.
“You’re so cheery,” she said to herself. And why not? Her squad might be dead. S&R Black might be destroyed. She might be floating out here among the monsters for the rest of her life, which wouldn’t last more than a few days.
Get it together, she said to herself. Calm the fuck down before you—
The pod shuddered. She instinctively held her arms out and secured herself. It shuddered again hard enough to clink her rifle against the thin hull. The sound of sharp metal rain echoed inside the small vessel. Kali shook again. She couldn’t help it. A second later, she realized what that sound was.
“Yes!” she said with a grin. “Flechettes!” The stress from their time inside Mira coupled with the dire fear of dying finally melted away, leaving her shaking. But the weary smile remained.
She lifted her helmet from the couch and quickly donned it. Either Gunny’s squad or Taulbee’s SV-52 sat somewhere close by, marines firing their weapons at any hostiles. Finally, she was going to be rescued and she could get a stint in the autodoc.
You might be the only one, a voice said in her mind.
The grin faded. Where was Elliott? Carb? Dickerson? Did any of them make it?
Even as she heard something metal bump against the hull, she was afraid for the hatch to open. In a few seconds, her mind played images of every terrible possibility. They could have been eaten by the creatures. Their pods could have malfunctioned, leaving them without air, power, or a prayer. Kali felt as though that last was especially true for Dickerson.
She clenched her fists and waited. And waited. Kali winced when she heard the three bangs against the hatch. She’d known it was coming, hoping for it to come, and now it sounded like something fatal rather than salvation. Funereal was the best word to describe it.
Kali lifted her fist and pounded three times on the hatch, her armored gloves slamming hard enough for the echo to fill the tiny space. As the sound disappeared, she pulled the release handle. Lights outlining the hatch turned from green to red. Kali knocked on the door twice more, stepped back, and mag-locked herself to the deck.
“Three for permission, three for entry, two for ready,” she mumbled. Two more taps at the hull. She counted off aloud, her voice weak and shaky. Another clink of metal, the coo-chunk of the safety bar receding, and the hatch’s outline pulsed with violent crimson. When she reached three, the hatch swung aside. The trapped atmosphere inside the pod rushed out in a gust, threatening to pull her from
the deck. If she hadn’t been mag-locked, she would have been sent flying into the black.
“Corporal?” Wendt’s voice yelled over the comms.
Kali exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Wendt’s large frame blocked most of the light from the SV-52 10 meters behind him, but her HUD filters had to compensate anyway.
“Good to see you, Wendt,” she whispered.
He held out a long arm. “Let’s get you out of here.” He paused for a second. “Shit, Boss. You are fucked up.”
She would have laughed if she knew it wouldn’t feel like a flechette round detonating in her chest. “You got that right. How about the others?”
“Come on, Corporal. Debrief later. We still have hostiles in the vicinity.”
“Copy,” she said and detached from the deck. She mag-locked her glove to Wendt’s and he gently pulled her to him. Using his suit thrusters, he traveled back to the SV-52 with Kali in his arms.
Even knowing the pain it would cause, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Elliott, his suit easily identified with the deflated glove, hung from the SV-52’s bow. They had him tethered like a prisoner at mast. Carb crouched next to him, her feet and one hand mag-locked, her flechette rifle in the other.
They were safe. They were all—
“Dickerson!” Kali yelled. “Where is—?”
“Corporal!” Taulbee yelled over the comms.
The panic that had nearly gripped her departed at once. “Aye, sir?”
“Unless it’s about something attacking us, I don’t want to hear about it until we get back to the ship.”
“Aye, sir,” she said.
Wendt flew her past Carb and to port-side aft. It was the only bit of space, save the bottom of the craft, they had left. The SV-52 hadn’t been designed for marines to dangle off of it. That’s what they had skiffs for. But in a pinch, it could serve the function.
Kali twisted her midsection and nearly screamed with the pain. Once she was mag-locked and tethered, Taulbee turned the SV-52 toward S&R Black. It hung in space, Mira’s dark shadow drifting a few kilometers away. Even in the Kuiper Belt’s dim twilight, she made out hundreds, maybe thousands of shapes hovering or flying around the derelict.
The last of her adrenaline was spent. Her nannies had been taxed beyond their capacity. Her ribs were a disaster and she was covered head to toe in bruises. Kali, finally sure she was safe, passed out.
*****
When she awoke, she lay in the infirmary. Her chest ached, but not with pain and her breath was a little more difficult to catch. She looked down and saw the heavy bandages wrapping her ribs.
They’d cut her out of her suit, put her in the autodoc for a little treatment, and thrown her in one of the beds. Beneath the heavy blanket lying atop her, she was naked except for her panties. She coughed twice and pain instantly rattled her nerves, but quickly receded. If nothing else, the autodoc had definitely replenished her THC supply.
The lights on her side of the infirmary were dim, but there was enough light for her to make out the three other collapsible beds. One was empty. The other two?
“Corporal,” Elliott croaked. He sat up in his bed, his handless arm encased in an indigo-blue nannie wrap. The top of the bed’s headboard, if it could be called that, had the tops of two dispensers. No doubt Elliott was getting a fresh infusion of blood, minerals, and nannies. He waved his intact hand with a tired smile. “How you feeling?”
“Yeah, Boss,” Carb said. “How are ya?”
Carb’s face had more color than Elliott’s and she seemed much more alert than Kali felt. Maybe her injuries hadn’t been as bad. Kali nearly chuckled. Or Carb is just that badass, she thought.
“Feel like I’ve been kicked in the head, the tits, and the ass.”
Carb giggled. “They can make that armor thick, but it’s never enough when you take one right to the swells.”
“No shit.” Kali breathed shallowly, hoping her inflamed chest wouldn’t scream in pain. “How long have we been here?”
“I woke up about ten minutes ago,” Carb said. She nodded to Elliott. “He just woke up too.”
“I passed out on the way here?” Kali asked.
Carb laughed. “Don’t feel bad, Corporal. I didn’t make it much further. Pretty damned sure Nobel knocked us all out.”
“That’s Lieutenant Nobel,” a voice growled from the doorway.
Kali swung her gaze to regard the limping form entering the room. “Good to see you, sir,” she said.
Nobel smiled, but it wasn’t as cheery as she’d expected. He looked pained, as though he had some distasteful duty ahead of him. She eyed the empty bed, the one where Dickerson should have been.
The lieutenant seemed to notice the flick of her eyes and he shook his head. “No. We haven’t retrieved Dickerson yet.”
Kali and Carb traded a glance. “But you know where he is?” Carb asked.
Nobel nodded. “His escape pod didn’t stop. It’s still moving toward Pluto and our scans say it’s clear of hostiles.”
“That’s great, sir!” Kali said. “So when are we going to get him?”
Nobel paused a moment before replying. “We have a mission first. Well, two, in fact. Lieutenant Taulbee will be down here shortly.”
“Mission?” Carb said. She swung her legs off the bed and stood with a small moan. She faced the engineer with her bare breasts thrust toward him.
Nobel rolled his eyes. “Dress yourself, marine, or get back under cover.”
Carb looked down at her erect nipples and slowly back at the lieutenant. Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Sorry, sir,” she said and climbed back into the bed, covering herself as best she could.
“Sir?” Kali asked. “Where’s Gunny?”
The engineer dropped his gaze. “Gunnery Sergeant Cartwright is in a medical coma,” he said. “We will be without his services until further notice.”
Kali swallowed hard. What the hell had happened since they were stranded? She knew Wendt and Murdock were still alive. But where was Lyke?
“Understood, sir,” she said.
“Good,” Nobel said. “Rest. LT Taulbee will be in here in a few minutes and he’ll brief and debrief before we start.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Carb said, “but before we start what?”
Nobel’s face melted into an evil grin. “Before we start getting some fucking payback.”
Chapter Sixty
The room was quieter than usual. Taulbee felt as though he had stepped into a morgue rather than a briefing room. Captain Dunn stood at the table, his eyes boring into the floating model of Mira. Red and orange dots and spots covered the holo image. Taulbee knew what those were and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
After docking with S&R Black, it didn’t take long for Wendt and Murdock to get the three injured marines to the infirmary. Nobel immediately went to work on them and relayed status updates to Taulbee. He’d damned near shed a tear when Nobel said all three would make it. Kalimura’s squad had only been inside Mira for several hours, but it felt as though they’d been gone for years. All that worry piling up on you made perspective difficult, and Taulbee still couldn’t let it go.
While Copenhaver refueled the SV-52, Wendt and Murdock were restocking weapons and munitions. When it was time to go, they’d be ready. Except that wasn’t really the problem.
He walked across the threshold, entered the room, and was about to stand at parade rest when Dunn growled. “At ease. Get over here.”
The captain hadn’t broken his stare with the glowing hologram. If Taulbee didn’t know any better, and truth be told, he didn’t, Dunn’s eyes were tracing a route around Mira. Perhaps he’d superimposed a block image over the hologram. He shook the thought away. He was about to find out what the captain had in mind. Best to hear it from the source rather than spending time guessing.
Taulbee walked to the table and stood across from the captain. He wanted to ask questions, give a status update, anything to break the awkward sil
ence that had descended over the room like a shroud. Dunn’s eyes continued flicking across the model, his expression flat and emotionless.
Usually cool and decisive, Dunn looked exhausted and frazzled. The stress of this mission had etched into every line of his face. And after the Schiaparelli Rebellion and the Satellite War, Dunn’s once rather boyish face was already a map of tense encounters. Before this was over, he thought Dunn would look ten years older.
The captain placed his hands on the edge of the table, bent his head slightly, and seemed to be grasping for what to say, or maybe willing himself to say what he didn’t want to. Taulbee didn’t like either possibility, but the latter was more worrisome.
“James,” Dunn said at last, his eyes flicking up from the table to stare into Taulbee’s. “We have to retrieve the beacon.”
Taulbee clenched his fists. “What about Dickerson?”
Dunn sighed. “We’ll go after him as soon as we get the beacon.” His tired expression transformed into a gleeful mask of malevolence. “And after we destroy that hulk out there.”
Taulbee forced a grin. The captain needed him to be on board with this. He knew that, but all he wanted to do right now was kick Oakes in the ass and have him chase Dickerson’s escape pod at full speed and damn the beacon and damn the ghost ship. Getting Dickerson back, his last missing marine, seemed so much more important.
“Sir? Do we know Dickerson’s speed and trajectory?”
Dunn nodded. “We do. He’s headed to Pluto. Black is coordinating with Mickey to keep an eye on the pod. If there’s a change in the situation, we’ll know it fairly quickly.”
Fairly quickly. The words echoed in Taulbee’s mind. Fairly quickly meant that new information on the pod’s status would take 4-8 minutes, depending on where the escape pod was in its journey to Pluto. And if they were still fucking around with Mira and the beacon when something happened, they’d arrive too late to save the marine.
The captain stood to his full height, his hands at his sides. Taulbee felt as though Dunn had read his thoughts. “It’s the best we can do, James. So put that out of your mind. Right now, I need you focused.”
Derelict: Destruction (Derelict Saga Book 3) Page 32
