by Sean Danker
“Then they left it alone because it wasn’t worth salvaging. What do they care what happened to it?” Sergeant Golding shrugged.
“I want to know who did this. And how,” Mao added firmly.
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to answer that,” Woodhouse told her frankly. “The scanners won’t play. My readings are vague, maybe even contaminated. There’s something here, but we’d need a sampling lab to figure out what. We’re not a science vessel.”
Mao scowled. “Document everything you can. Lydia, get ready to take us back to Doyle.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Stay awake,” Bjorn said to Kladinova over the com. The other units were standing down, and there was an air of relief on the bridge.
“Stay on alert. Add deep-space salvage to our duty checklist,” Mao said, and the viewport reverted to showing what was in front of the ship. Bjorn got up and left the bridge.
Rada was stepping into the spine. The ensign had her tool bag under one arm, and was dragging a handful of EV suits. She smiled, giving him a slightly exasperated look.
“Getting a little jumpy around here, isn’t it?” she asked, leaning against the bulkhead.
“You should see the bridge,” Bjorn told her, letting out his breath.
“Why, though? We only have to worry about Perdita. And it’s not like that thing can get the jump on us.”
He shrugged. “Tenbrook can’t keep up with us and he knows it. He has to slow us down to get close.”
“Doyle’s already doing a good enough job at that.”
Bjorn nodded. “We just have to hope they’re looking for us in the wrong place.”
“That won’t be for long. The closer we get to Oasis, the more likely it is that we’ll get picked up. Not us, but Doyle. They’ll spot him, and Tenbrook will find out somehow.”
“I know. It’s a race.”
“I hope the commander knows what she’s doing.”
“You and me both.”
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Seem so confident. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you really weren’t scared.”
“I’m scared,” Bjorn said honestly.
Ensign Grigori gave an exaggerated shrug. “But you know what you’re doing. I don’t feel like I do. Did they teach you special ops stuff at your tech school? Because they didn’t teach me any at mine.”
“We all had service training. They taught us all to be soldiers before they taught us the rest,” Bjorn said. “I’m just going with it.”
He went into the bay and approached the fighter.
Diana saw him coming and opened the cockpit. He could see the disappointment on her face. The lieutenant had been hoping for a chance to launch. She was breathing deeply, and the cosmetics couldn’t hide the flush in her cheeks. She’d started to sweat again.
“I need you to stay calm,” Bjorn said.
“I am,” she replied, but it wasn’t true.
Bjorn’s mouth felt dry. He reached the fighter and put his hand on the clean, curved hull. “We need to check you out again.”
“You’re the one who needs to calm down,” Diana said, annoyed. “I’m fine.”
Ignoring her, Bjorn pulled up the ship’s bio-interface and checked her data. Her temperature had risen again, slightly. She was dehydrated, and eating seemed to have only sped up her metabolism even further. Bjorn didn’t understand. The body could enter an aroused state like this in times of crisis, but it wasn’t meant to go to this place and just hold there. But that’s what Diana was doing. She was producing adrenaline for no reason.
It should’ve been a medical crisis, but she really seemed fine. She was conscious, and in control. She was performing better than was humanly possible.
But this was going to catch up with her, and Bjorn was afraid she would crash at the wrong moment.
He wanted to test a theory. He opened his holo and brought up a chess program, projecting the board into the air.
“Let’s go,” he said, pointing.
“Is this a joke?”
“You’re white. It’s your move. I know you officers learn to play in your academies. Don’t act like you don’t know how.”
She looked at him as if he was insane. “Why?”
“If you can’t think straight enough to play a game, how can I let you fly?”
“You think I’m not thinking straight?”
“You intimidated an enlisted girl into stealing an alien parasite and put it in your body without having a clue what it would do to you,” Bjorn stated flatly. “I’ve seen straighter thinking. Make your damn move, Lieutenant.”
She gave him a fierce look, then shoved a pawn forward.
“Where are you from?” Bjorn asked.
“Marragard.”
“Which planet?”
“Coringard.”
“I’ve never heard of the Kladinova line.” Bjorn nudged one of his own pawns forward.
“We’re descended from the Disciple.”
“I hope you’re not an only child. Hate to see a line like that go out like this.”
“I’m not,” she growled. “Why do you care?”
“Just making conversation. We can talk about me if you want. I’m from Belle Station. I joined because I thought the war would be over before my training was finished.” He gazed at the board. “Not that it mattered. I ended up pretty far away from the fighting.”
“What’s going on with you and Grigori?”
“Nothing.” Bjorn moved a knight.
“You know she’s got genes, right?”
“Does she?”
“Her line is disgraced, but a tenth-tier bloodliner is still a liner. Technically,” Diana added, watching his face. “If that sort of thing appeals to you.”
“How sure are you?” Bjorn asked curiously.
“Trust me.”
Diana scowled at the board. She wasn’t winning.
“You’re not very good at this.”
“I don’t like games.”
“Don’t think of it as a game. Treat it like a dogfight. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
She gave him a look, but then her face turned thoughtful as she considered the game. “So, do you like her?”
He hesitated. “Ensign Grigori?”
“Yes.”
“I think we need to stay focused on the mission.”
“Tell that to her.”
“Or to Rebecca.” Yeoman DiJeur’s fixation on Major Compton had only gotten stronger and more obvious lately.
Diana put her hand over her mouth, then sobered. “Probably not in good taste to laugh at that. I still can’t believe Lucas is gone.”
“It doesn’t feel real. That’s how it is in space. Or that’s what they say.”
“He’s just not here anymore.”
“How many people were aboard the Margarita?” Bjorn shrugged. “Fifty. Fifty thousand. Fifty million. It’s just a number. Just like all the ships we destroyed.”
Diana swallowed. “I didn’t think I’d ever be in combat,” she confessed.
“How did you end up here?”
“Same as everyone else. I had the aptitudes.”
“I mean the Service.”
She twitched. “It’s this integration-initiative thing.”
“What thing? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Old military families have been putting the upper class into the officer corps since the Unification. But you don’t really see a lot of us in combat. And you never see us outside of executive command, right?”
“Right.”
“So someone wants us to be able to serve anywhere, side by side with everyone else. In any field,” Diana said. It sounded as if she didn’t care for that idea.
&nbs
p; “Sounds reasonable. Sort of.”
“There’s, like, a test crop. Like a trial run. This program’s been in the works a long time. So long that there were dozens of children who were chosen for it before they were even born.”
Bjorn looked up, taken aback. “What?”
Diana nodded. Now she was the one gazing at the board. “It’s not compulsory. But a few of us did join up. My family volunteered me. The worst part is the likenesses.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“They gave us the faces of historical figures,” Diana said. “The alterations were made when we were infants.”
Bjorn stared at her. “I don’t recognize your face,” he said.
“Most people don’t.”
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
Diana opened her mouth, then shut it. She swallowed. “The Disciple.”
“If it’s not the Heir or the Guardian or the Duchess, I don’t really know. I never paid much attention to that stuff.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s why I use cosmetics. I can hide it from most people. It’s easier than hiding this,” she said, gesturing at herself.
“At least the Disciple was pretty.”
Diana smiled. “Right? I didn’t actually make the cut for officer, and I was going to bail rather than enlist. But at the last minute they tested me for Everwing aptitudes.”
“They bribed you?”
“Or my test scores mysteriously changed. Depending on who you ask.”
Bjorn shook his head in disgust. “Just like me.”
“Really?” Diana frowned at him. “You always talk about how you’re not a real officer. What’s the story with that?”
“I got into trouble, that’s all. I was going to be discharged, but I qualified for Everwing.” He patted the fighter. “So they gave me this commission to get me to stay.”
She obviously wanted to ask him for details, but she didn’t.
“So there are liners out there running around with the faces of people from hundreds of years ago for no reason?” he asked.
“It’s not funny. I don’t think you really understand what it’s like to know you’re wearing someone else’s face,” Diana told him frankly. “So you shouldn’t comment.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“We’re all like this for no reason. After the war, some admiral will honor us all and talk about how we belong in the Service, and they’ll show us next to pictures of the heroes, and it’ll defeat the whole purpose. Nothing’s going to change.”
Diana was probably right.
Her vitals hadn’t fully calmed, but they’d leveled off. Taking her mind off things had a measurable impact on her bio-readings. Bjorn was relieved; this was what he’d hoped for.
He wasn’t naive enough to think he understood the state of her body, or what the Harbinger was doing to her. He certainly wasn’t confident that what it was doing was safe. But she was stable. Stable enough that he was willing to keep this up a little longer, to see where it led.
What no one wanted to mention was that Diana’s obscenely high body count during the battle had unquestionably saved the lives of everyone aboard the Lydia. The ship was formidable, but under fire from Perdita and all the ships that had been there, once it was in the open it shouldn’t have survived against a force so much larger.
But Diana had been among the enemy fleet, wreaking havoc, preventing them from concentrating their fire. Perhaps four Everwing fighters would’ve been able to accomplish that much without taking liberties with Harbinger, but Bjorn wasn’t so sure.
The Everwing system was a powerful equalizer. The Lydia had already proved that. But the odds were just too deeply stacked against them. Mao wasn’t saying it, but she knew perfectly well that even two or three ships like the Lydia couldn’t go up against Tenbrook’s battle station. Could Diana tip the balance?
Bjorn didn’t know, but he didn’t see any harm in letting her try.
19
“DON’T give me that look, LT. Just hold it. This is already the abbreviated workout, so try to have a little dignity.” Sergeant Golding glanced at Ibuki, who just shook his head. “All right, relax.”
Bjorn eased himself to the ground, then rolled over to massage his sore arms. The three of them were in the armory. Even under crisis circumstances, the mandatory shipboard fitness regimen couldn’t be dodged.
Effortlessly Sergeant Golding got to her feet and picked up the reader. “Okay, you two are good for this cycle. What about Lieutenant Kladinova?”
“Sim schedule change,” Bjorn lied, wiping his forehead. “She got in earlier. She’s on there.” And she was. Bjorn had entered her information for her.
“Okay. And Woodhouse checked her out?”
Bjorn nodded, pretending to stifle a yawn.
“Good. Then we’re all clear for now. We can go back to stressing over Tenbrook.” She left the armory, leaving Ibuki and Bjorn with their soreness. The pilot was sitting against the bulkhead, working his wrists.
“We never did that one at my academy,” he said, reaching back to massage his neck.
“I think she makes this stuff up,” Bjorn replied, stepping into the spine.
Diana was coming out of her quarters. She gave him a questioning look, and he nodded. Relieved, she made her way to him, and together they entered Blue Bay.
“You should be resting—you just came off alert.”
“I’m all right,” Diana said. “Too much energy.”
“Your metabolism has completely lost its mind,” Bjorn told her. “Harbinger can do a lot of things, but I doubt it can make the brain stop needing sleep. You might feel superhuman, but you still need rest.”
“And I got some. Relax.”
“You do not want me to relax. Do you have any idea how much I’m juggling right now to keep you in the clear? We can’t do this forever.”
“I thought we’d run into trouble by now.”
“So did I. The commander was right. Tenbrook’s looking in the wrong place.”
“We’ll reach Oasis soon. That’ll buy us time.”
“The ship, or us?”
“Both.”
Bjorn snorted. “Is there anything you want to tell me? Do you feel any different?”
“Detached,” she said immediately. “Just a little. But also more alert. A little jumpy.”
“How about your skin?”
“The color’s getting worse. You can tell, can’t you?”
“Not really. Those are some good cosmetics.”
“Naturally.”
“I thought you liners weren’t supposed to augment yourselves. You aren’t supposed to need to.”
“Bjorn,” Diana said, giving him a pitying smile. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Have you got enough of that stuff?”
“For a while. But it won’t hold up face-to-face. I need to stay away from females. They’ll see through it.”
“That’s half the crew.”
“That’s what you’re here for.”
“I feel like you’re taking me for granted,” Bjorn said, looking back toward the doors to the spine. “Stop dodging the question.”
She scowled, then folded her arms. Bjorn studied her face as she debated internally. Then she held up a hand.
“What am I looking at?”
“My nails.”
“What about them? Did you just trim them? Very nice.”
“Shut up. I did just trim them. They’re growing.”
“Quickly? Unusually quickly?”
She nodded.
“Just the nails?” Bjorn considered his data, frowning. He wasn’t a bio specialist; he didn’t know how to interpret all of this.
She watched him expectantly, but Bjorn had a feeling he wasn’t pick
ing up on what she was saying. “Hair too. I spend so much time shaving, I barely have time to bathe,” she said, looking annoyed.
He raised an eyebrow. “Has to be tied to your metabolism somehow. You need to be extra mindful of how you feel. You do understand that it’s better for us to pull out of this than for you to mess up in combat, right?”
“Yes. But you’re being paranoid.”
“Do you know what I’m going to do the next time I see you?”
“Ask me how I feel?”
“And the next time?”
“I get it,” she snapped. “Major Morel’s sharing his sim time with me. I’ll get you some data. I’ll prove to you that I’m good.”
“Do it.” Bjorn keyed off his holo and took a long breath. “I have to think of ways to isolate you without making the commander suspicious.”
The com chirped.
“Bridge staff meeting,” Mao said curtly. “Right now, let’s go.”
Bjorn frowned. That was an odd summons, but there was nothing for it. He gave Diana a warning glare and left the bay. Woodhouse was in the spine, heading for the stairs.
General Dayal was already on the bridge, and so was Major Compton. Sergeant Golding arrived only moments after Bjorn, and Mao motioned for them all to sit.
“For those of you that haven’t been caught up,” she said, beginning to pace, “we’ve figured out what was going on with that shuttle we found. It was an evacuation. Something happened to the colony, some kind of biohazard.”
She shrugged.
“That’s a shame, but it’s not our problem right now. We’ve been in Oasis space for over an hour. We’re close enough that we should be getting short-range contacts, signals, and chatter even under this blackout. I’ve never been out here myself, but from what I’ve been led to expect, we should be wading through scumbags.” She spread her arms. “What’s going on? Your turn.”
“I don’t suppose they’re actually obeying the mandate and abandoning the system?” Woodhouse asked.
“I’m not buying it. I think these pirates are afraid of us, but I think they also know that while we’re at war we’re not going to spare a lot of resources to come and get them right now. They think they have until the war’s over, one way or another, until they even have to seriously think about moving.”
