by Tanya Huff
Okay, we’ve reached today’s limit. “Don’t whine, sir, it’s unattractive in an officer.”
Nose ridges moving through red to purple, Travik glared up at her, coffee pouch dangling from one corner of his mouth. “What?”
“Sets a bad example for the enlisted personnel. They’re looking to you for leadership, sir.” It took an effort but she managed close her teeth before adding, not that I should have to tell you that.
“General Morris will hear about that insubordinate comment, Staff Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Travik stomped away, jerked his slate up off his vest, and turned his back before he began talking. From the angle of the bristles on the back of his head, he was seething. From inside the ship, contact with the Berganitan was patchy at best, so all communications were routed through the shuttle’s system; Lieutenant Czerneda monitoring in case anything else attempted to make contact. Right about now, she was getting an earful.
“Was that wise?” Ryder asked. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but he seems like he could be an officious little prick.”
Torin shrugged. “You’re right. It’s none of your business.”
“Looking on the bright side, you seem to have cured his boredom.”
“All part of the job.” Bending, she slid a tray out of the section marked with a big red H. Unlike field rations, designed to satisfy the nutritional requirements of all three military species, the mess kit’s prepared meals were species specific. “I assume we’re feeding you?”
“I tried to get my mom to pack me some sandwiches, but…thank you.” He took the tray out of her hands and peered through the clear cover. “Mystery meat and vegetables in a pita. Cup of soup—best not to look too closely at the puree. Pouch of juice and a pudding cup. All maintained at their intended temperature provided their intended temperature is lukewarm.”
Torin snorted. “You sure you’ve never been a Marine?”
“I picked up a surplus mess kit a couple of years ago,” he explained, dropping down to the floor beside her. “I can load it at any station and this stuff’ll last indefinitely as long as it’s sealed.”
“Just one of the differences between us,” Torin noted, toasting him with her soup. “You pay to eat like this, I get paid to do it.”
* * *
“Looks like Staff Sergeant Kerr and the civilian are getting along,” Orla murmured speculatively, eyes darkening as she leaned past the Marine next to her in order to get an unimpeded look.
“Who else is she going to hang with?” Tsui asked. “If she hangs with us, we feel like we’re being watched all the time, and I doubt she wants to hang with Captain Asshole. Besides, Ryder’s okay, as long as you don’t play cards with the son of a bitch.” He poked a finger into his pudding, and the reaction by the di’Taykan took the conversation into a biologically unlikely direction.
* * *
*STAFF SERGEANT KERR.*
The bounce from the shuttle threatened to overwhelm her implant. Torin adjusted the volume then tongued in an acknowledgment.
*You’re pissing Travik off on purpose. Stop it. I don’t want to hear any more complaints from him for the duration. Is that clear?*
“Yes, sir.” Not much point in subvocalizing since she didn’t intend to say anything that couldn’t be overheard. She glanced up at the captain. From his smug expression, he’d been expecting the general to contact her. “Sorry, sir.”
*Any problems?*
“No, sir.”
*Good. Keep it that way and keep him alive. Morris out.*
“Talking to yourself?” Ryder wondered, glancing from her to the captain and back again.
Corps business was none of his.
“Sometimes it’s the only way to have an intelligent conversation,” Torin told him.
* * *
“Corporal Harrop.”
“Staff?”
“Take three Marines and relieve Nivry. I’ll call you in as soon they finish eating. Captain wants to send out the entire team in two patrols.”
“If we’re coming back in so soon, why are we even going out?”
“You’re going out because I told you to go out.”
“But…”
“And in a minute you’ll be cleaning out the recycler in the latrine because I told you to.”
“Orla, Jynett, Dursinski, you’re with me.”
* * *
“This are Presit a Tur durValintrisy for Sector Central News reporting from a corridor inside a ship belonging to no Confederation species. With me are Harveer Niirantapajee, head of the Xeno-engineering department at Jinaffatinnic University on the Niln home world of Ciir. Harveer Niirantapajee, please tell our audience what you are discovered about this alien ship.”
“Bugger all,” the elderly engineer grunted, her nictitating membranes flicking across the golden orbs of her eyes.
Presit’s smile tightened. “Could you elaborate?”
“We got in okay. Having established a door, there is, after all, a limited number of ways you can get a door to open. Once in, nothing. Scans show there’s working parts in the walls but we can’t get to them. We can’t find panels, we can’t make a hole. We can’t even get a really good picture. The only thing we’re fairly certain of is that the ship is at least partially constructed of PHA—polyhydroxide alcoholydes.”
“Which are?”
“Essentially organic plastic. Certain bacteria use PHA to store energy much the way mammals use fat.”
“So, you are saying bacteria are building this ship?”
“No. I’m not.”
Her tone moved the reporter on. “Are you being discouraged, Harveer?”
The membrane flicked across her eyes again. “As you said, the ship belongs to no Confederation species. It doesn’t belong to the Alliance…”
“The Alliance, that are being our allies, the methane breathers.”
“Right. Given that and given that we’ve only been working at it…” Her tongue touched a spot on the shoulder of her overalls. “…a little under two hours, don’t you think it’s early yet to be discouraged? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to beating my tail against this scrisin wall.”
* * *
“Captain Travik, we’re ready to send out the patrols.”
“Well?”
“Well, what, sir?”
“Well, send out the patrols, Staff Sergeant. Do I have to do everything?”
“No, sir.”
* * *
“Corporal Nivry, you’ll take your patrol to perimeter point six. Harrop, to perimeter point five. You’ll be running parallel to each other and pretty much parallel to the hull. Logically, there should be compartments of some kind between you, so both teams will run deep scans on the walls every three meters. Don’t let your guard down.”
“Uh, Staff, what are we guarding against?” Tsui asked, his smile a millimeter from mocking.
“Right now?” Her smile flattened his. “Me. Tomorrow, we’ll see how much corridor we can map and still make it back before the shuttle leaves. Today, we’ll concentrate on protecting our specialists while they pull data for the science team.”
* * *
“Hey, Johnston.” Tsui poked Squad One’s other lance corporal in the thigh with the butt of his benny. “You wish you were still back with the eggheads instead of getting ready to hump that thing through never-never land?”
The engineer snorted and flexed the exoskeleton supporting most of the scanner’s weight. “Oh, yeah, I’d much rather be listening to a pair of frustrated Katrien argue about solitons. Sounds like a fukking cat fight.”
* * *
Arms folded—which had to be a human posture he’d adopted as Torin had never seen another Krai use it—Captain Travik exposed most of his teeth. “You don’t make plans about future assignments without consulting your commanding officer.”
“General Morris made it clear he wasn’t to be bothered, sir.”
“I was referring to
myself.”
“Yes, sir. When I spoke of tomorrow’s plans, I was referring to the boarding plan you downloaded and approved on the Berganitan.” Torin brought up the file and read from her slate. “Day one, secure the area and, should no hostiles be encountered, support the science team. Day two, should no hostiles be encountered, map as much of the ship’s interior as possible. Day three…”
“I want you to consult with me before you implement!”
“Yes, sir.” Hooking her slate back on her vest, Torin calmly met the captain’s apoplectic gaze. “Tomorrow—before I implement tomorrow’s plan—I will consult with you.”
Travik stood there for a long moment, as the blood gradually drained from his facial ridges. “Good,” he said at last. Then he spun on one heel and strode purposefully away.
“You’re armed,” noted a quiet voice at Torin’s shoulder. “How do you keep from killing him?”
She watched the captain head straight for the news team. “Captain Travik is the officer commanding, Mr. Ryder. Marines are not in the habit of killing their officers.”
“Okay.”
“It’s an acquired skill.”
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
“I don’t seem to be able to stop you.”
“Why the helmet? We’re not under fire.”
“Among other things, my helmet contains a PCU—personal communications unit. I use it to maintain contact with the patrols.”
“But doesn’t the whole unit snap out so you can just shove it in one ear? I’m not saying the helmet doesn’t look good on you.” He met her frown with a grin. “I just wondered why. Does it give a feeling of security?”
Torin’s tone would have told even a raw recruit that the conversation was over. “I don’t like things shoved in my ears, Mr. Ryder.”
“Okay.”
Unfortunately, Craig Ryder was not a Marine. “Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
Also unfortunately, because I said so, wasn’t good enough for a civilian. More’s the pity. Before Torin could come up with a suitable reply, a sudden shout from Dr. Hodges froze everyone in place and a moment brought most of the other scientists running to his workstation just inside the air lock. Harveer Niirantapajee and both Katriens, who were working closest to the Marines, glanced up from their equipment but continued working.
“I’m too old to go scampering off every time his analyzer farts,” she muttered in answer to Torin’s silent question. “And these two won’t leave me alone with their pretty new toy. But don’t let us stop you from joining the fun.”
“Fun,” Ryder repeated, matching his stride to Torin’s. “Fun would be blowing through the walls with explosives.”
She considered discouraging him from dogging her footsteps, but since there wasn’t anywhere else for him to go…“The di’Taykan are planning that for later.”
“That’s because the di’Taykan know how to have fun.”
They reached the edge of the group a moment later to see Captain Travik installed at Dr. Hodges’ elbow looking as though he were personally responsible for any successes. Cirvan had climbed up onto a crate trying to get more in his shot than the elbows of the taller species, and Presit was asking questions of the scientist—who ignored her as he dealt with the incoming data.
“What’s he actually doing?” Ryder asked, sidestepping a stack of packing crates to get a better look.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Torin pulled her helmet forward and flipped the microphone down. “Nivry, Harrop, hold up. Something’s happening here.”
“You want us to head back?”
Torin glanced at the display on her slate. Both patrols were in the corridor designated NS2, separate but still in sight of each other. “No. Wait there until we know what’s actually going on.”
“Roger, Staff. We’ll wait.”
Straightening, Dr. Hodges thrust both hands over his head in triumph. “I have the numbers!”
“And that means?” Torin muttered.
“Seems to mean something to them.” Ryder nodded toward the excited scientists. There was hurried movement away from the younger Niln’s uplifted tail.
Waving off questions, Dr. Hodges aimed two beams of blue light at the wall, then caught up a strip similar to the one he’d used on the air lock door and rushed around his apparatus, accepting congratulatory pats from his colleagues as he ducked between the beams.
Ryder took a step closer and was pushed back as Dr. Hodges returned to his data, the spectators surging back and forth with his movements. “So what’s his machinery do?”
Torin shrugged. “No idea. I do know it’s damned heavy and, apparently, it shouldn’t be dropped.”
“Did you drop it?”
“Not personally.” The light strip, now on the wall, lit up. For all Torin knew it might have been the same strip Dr. Hodges had used in the air lock. As far as she was concerned, one set of red-and-green flashing lights looked like another. She dropped her benny down off her shoulder and brought it around to the ready, just in case.
“Dr. Hodges. Dr. Hodges!” Whiskers quivering, Presit pushed herself between the scientist and Captain Travik. “Are you please telling our viewers just what it is you are doing?”
“I’m about to open an access panel. Now get out of my way.”
As the reporter stepped indignantly back, Captain Travik stepped forward. “As the officer commanding this mission, I’d like to…”
“I said, move!”
Enjoying the captain’s discomfort, Torin didn’t see the actual moment the panel opened. When the cheering drew her gaze, a three-or-four-centimeter crack already ran halfway down the wall between the two beams of light. As it widened farther, all the hair rose off the back of her neck.
The deck shivered under the soles of her boots.
Grabbing a handful of Ryder’s shirt, she threw him down behind the packing crates and followed him to the floor just as an explosion filled the corridor with flying debris and plumes of smoke. Ears ringing, she rolled up tight against the lowest crate, shoulder pressed hard against Ryder’s back.
“Staff! What the hell was that?”
She snapped her mike down against her mouth. “Explosion by the lock! Report!”
“Area rippled. No damage. No casualties.”
A second blast slammed up against the pile, sending the upper crates flying. A hunk of meat still wearing a bit of sleeve splashed against her boot. “We’ve got both!” Coughing, she checked her sleeve. Combats had a lot of basic tech built in. “Pressure’s holding; no hull…Craig!”
Twisting around, Ryder swept one arm up and swept the debris off his forearm. It crashed and bounced, missing them both by centimeters.
“Staff? Staff Sergeant Kerr?”
“I’m here.” Her eyes burned and her nose streamed. She wiped her face on the back of one hand while pulling a filter mask out of her vest with the other. “I say again, pressure’s holding; no hull breach.” A flick of the wrist unrolled the mask and she slapped it over her nose and mouth. The edges sealed.
“We’re on our way!”
Metal screamed against metal.
“Be careful, there’s a lot of smoke and the whole area’s un…Fuk!” Her legs, Ryder’s legs, the crate had all sunk into the floor.
And they were continuing to sink.
There was nothing she could grab. Nothing that wasn’t sinking as fast as she was.
* * *
“Son of a fukking bitch!” Instinct brought his hands down to shove against the floor. They sank. And he couldn’t pull them out again.
Something popped in his shoulder. He kept fighting.
Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.
“Mr. Ryder! CRAIG!”
Strong fingers turned his head.
“LOOK AT ME!”
The voice promised consequences worse than being swallowed by an alien ship if he disobeyed. Torin’s face swam into focus.
“Stop it! It’s not do
ing any good and it’s pissing me off.”
“Oh, that’s comforting,” he panted, panic shoved aside by irritation.
“Good.”
* * *
Now he’d stopped thrashing, Torin grabbed for Ryder’s right arm with both hands.
He jerked away.
“Staff Sergeant Kerr!”
“Nivry!”
“Staff! What’s happening?”
“We’re being sucked into the goddamned floor, that’s what’s happening!”
Still feeling a solid surface under her feet, she couldn’t stand. She couldn’t change her position. The pressure against her lower body was so slight, it couldn’t possibly be holding her in place. But it was.
What had been the floor was now up around their waists.
The muzzle of her benny was under the surface. The trigger was up by her right breast. The angle was bad, but she forced her thumb through the trigger guard without touching her elbow to the floor.
“What are you doing?” Ryder coughed, eyes widening. He began to struggle again, leaning away from her.
“Fighting back!”
“You don’t know what that’ll do!”
“Well, I don’t fukking like what’s happening now!”
The weapon fired—she watched the charge drop—but it had no effect.
“Staff Sergeant Kerr!”
She stopped pulling the trigger. Took a deep breath. Coughed. Spat. Watched it sink.
“Listen up, Nivry: there were three scientists down by our gear. If anyone made it, they did.” The floor was up by her shoulders. Torin could see a mark made by one of the pieces of heavy equipment, a black scuff against the gray. If she turned her head, she could see the piece of arm—di’Taykan or Human. It was too small a sample to tell for certain. Apparently, the ship didn’t want it. “Deal with the civilian casualties, then get the team out.” Her left arm was under, immobile. She held her right arm over her head.
“We’re not leaving you behind, Staff.”
“Glad to hear it, Corporal. Feel free to come back with the proper gear.”
The floor touched her chin. It felt cool. She couldn’t smell anything but the smoke she’d inhaled before she got the filter on. What the hell does a floor smell like anyway? Since she couldn’t move her head, she stared into Ryder’s eyes. They really were the most remarkable blue. Pity his nose had been running into all that facial hair.
