by P. R. Adams
“I don’t think it’s something we can ever really understand,” Rimes said.
Imogen opened a channel; Rimes accepted. “Colonel, we are nearing sensor range.”
“I just need another moment,” Rimes said calmly, his eyes closed. Blood for blood. All of us have a price to pay and a pound of flesh to extract.
His eyes squinted against the hangar bay’s suddenly bright lights. When he looked at Brozek again, Rimes could see a glint of hope, but it was adrift in a sea of confusion. “I have to go now, Dariusz. You do what you think is right. No one else is going to say one way or another about you.”
Kleigshoen stepped from the airlock, then she stepped back out of sight. He was out of time.
Rimes jogged to Yama’s shuttle, then up the airlock ramp. He sealed the shuttle shut without glancing back. Brozek’s decision was his to make.
The killing would go on with or without him.
29
17 April, 2174. The Carolina.
* * *
Rimes blinked in disbelief as he watched his BAS, unsure if the Carolina’s sensor feed or communications system was failing or if there might be something wrong with him. Splashed across his helmet’s BAS display were three images. He drilled down into the middle one, anxiously waiting for it to refresh. Pale-cyan wireframe images outlined the basic structures—a field of space debris and a large, cylindrical ship ending in a globe reminiscent of the Erikson.
“Time to target?” Rimes asked over his connection with Yama.
“Fifteen minutes.” Yama managed to sound dismissive and contemptuous with just two words.
Rimes set a timer and tried to focus on the sensor feed, which slowly built an extrapolation of the image’s details. A monochromatic texture layer slowly built out into shapes. Rimes wiped sweat from his eyes and yawned. It wasn’t hot in the shuttle; he just needed to stim up again. The extrapolation resolved into an unmistakable symmetrical form.
He opened a channel to Imogen and switched to the rightmost image, which looked like space debris.
“Talk to me, Imogen,” he said. “Is it me, or is there something wrong with the sensors? What am I looking at?”
“At this range the sensors can be tricky. To facilitate the multi-role needs, the designers made compromises with the Carolina’s hull, so we had little surface area to work with for more sophisticated arrays without diminishing—”
“Okay. I get it.” He drilled in again, waiting for another sensor sweep to refine the image. “So, I’m seeing three images worth examining. You?”
“I see what appears to be the deep space exploration—”
“Yes. I can see that.” He sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. The exploration vessel is the obvious piece. I’m looking at the…I think it’s debris.”
“It is just debris.” Imogen sounded confused.
“It’s not just debris. Look at it from all sides. There are symmetrical aspects to it.” He grabbed the latest image and placed it into a workspace, then manually enhanced the image. He smoothed out a few spots, constructing a basic form from the chaos of the long-range scan. He sent the image to Imogen. “Look at this.”
“That is just debris, Colonel. Symmetry can happen out here. It could be junk from the research vessel.”
“Look at the image I sent you. Please.” He examined the image again, letting his mind wander, doing his own extrapolation. He imagined a shape beyond what he could see, extending what he considered the shape’s front, raising a platform from the center where there was none. He closed his eyes and let his imagination roam free, then he manipulated the image some more. “It’s a ship.”
“I do not see a ship.” Imogen sounded frustrated now.
He tacked a few more modifications onto the image, and it resolved into the ship he had visualized. “Please run a tight sweep over the debris. Here.” He tapped the area where the ship floated.
“Colonel—”
“Imogen, please.”
The sensor sweep completed, and Rimes saw the shape crawl from the slow extrapolation application, like something carved from a dream. Another sweep, and the vessel didn’t need extrapolation. He could see the markings on its hull: CFN Vishnu.
His awareness expanded until he sensed the ship as it had been, the life held within: a handful of soldiers, several nurses and technicians, a few doctors. Energy flowed from each. They were healers and assistants.
Now gone, all of them.
“It was a SAR ship.”
“Why would search and rescue be out here?” Imogen asked.
There was a stutter to her voice, an uncertainty that Rimes couldn’t recall ever hearing from her before.
“I don’t know. They patrol pretty broad areas. They could have been sent here by someone off the Special Security Council. Things have changed, and the council has developed connections with the metacorporations. Maybe this ship was the closest one and was redirected when they discovered…whatever they found.”
“Very well. If you are sure it was a SAR ship, why do we need to investigate it? It’s more than eight thousand klicks out from the research vessel. That would cost us significant time.”
“Minutes,” Rimes fought to maintain calm. Imogen sounded petulant and impatient, but it was just as likely that his stim-hungry nerves were making her seem that way. “Soldier’s instincts. I don’t want that at my rear. We don’t know what it is.”
“You said it was a SAR ship.”
“If you’re going to humor me on it being a SAR ship, humor me on checking it out.” The sound of his voice—commanding but understanding, patient but firm—surprised him, given his own impatience. He sensed Kwon’s manipulative presence and fought against it. “Please.”
Imogen made a sound that could have been a growl, then she added Ji and Yama to the channel with Rimes. “Change course to the debris I’ve marked. Be alert for anything.”
“Imogen, why would we fly toward junk?” The challenge in Yama’s tone was clear. Clearer was the message that Imogen was his commander, not his superior.
“It appears to be junk at the moment.” Imogen didn’t seem to rise to Yama’s challenge. “We need to confirm there is nothing more to it.”
“Such as?”
“What if there was a missile embedded in it, waiting for us to fly past? Are you willing to trust your shuttle’s sensors to save you when there might be a missile flying up your backside?” Imogen sounded calm, but there was a definite edge to her voice.
Yama snarled and adjusted course.
Rimes brought up the cockpit video feeds to get a look at Ji, then Yama. Like Imogen, they had nonhuman features: slightly recessed eyes, thicker bone structures around the face, slightly protruding teeth, and powerful jaw muscles. Ji could almost pass for a young Korean woman, Yama for a young Indian man, so long as the observer didn’t pay close attention and know better from the start.
Second generation, like Imogen. LoDu and T-Corp roots but grown into something completely their own.
No one spoke as they flew toward the debris. The sensor images slowly took on more definition, and with each new detail Rimes’s confidence grew. By the time the Vishnu’s shattered hull came into view for the belly cameras, the Carolina’s sensors had already begun picking out details even Yama couldn’t ignore. Enough of a blackened hull section survived on what Rimes assumed was the ship’s port side to make out “SHNU.” Rimes shivered at the accuracy of his dream. He wondered if Imogen had manipulated him into thinking it was his dream rather than some sort of insight she’d had.
No, it was mine. My thoughts. My dreams. I’m in control.
The shuttles began hard deceleration, and Kleigshoen opened a channel to Rimes, Barlowe, Gwambe, Meyers, Brozek, and Trang. Almost instantly it was flooded with chatter.
Kleigshoen cut in. “Jack, what’s going on? That looks like—”
“One of ours. I think it is. Based off its shape and size, I guessed it was search-and-rescue.”
“Ma
kes sense,” Meyers said. “They sometimes fly some pretty crazy routes to stay in position for quick response. I can’t say I’ve heard of it. Snnu?”
“Vishnu.” Rimes hoped he didn’t sound too confident. “That’s an S-H.”
“Who shot it up, Colonel?” Trang asked. “Is that missile damage?”
“Yes. Lots of missile damage.” Rimes thought back to the engagement over Plymouth. Sensor systems and medical facilities used up most of the SAR ship’s space. Whatever was left was split between drive systems, supply storage, and personnel. A single rail gun was all they had for defense.
“Colonel, this deep exploration ship, it could not do that.” Gwambe could have been asking a question or stating a fact.
“No, it couldn’t.” Rimes studied the ship as Ji took her shuttle in closer, climbing over the shattered spine of the hull. A flashing beacon caught his eye. “There! Off the starboard side. You see that flash?”
Ji said nothing.
Rimes hastily flipped back to Imogen’s channel. “Imogen, you see—”
“Yes,” Imogen said. “Ji saw it. We are checking.”
“It could be a trap.”
“Thank you.” Imogen smiled, and it appeared sincere, although her alien features made her hard to read. “We will keep our distance.”
“If it’s a nuke…” Rimes stopped himself.
“We will keep our distance.” There was a hint of impatience in Imogen’s voice. “Your adaptation of our tactics might have given birth to a return to a different sort of warfare.”
Good. She knows what the genies did before. Rimes flipped back to Kleigshoen’s channel. It had devolved to chatter again. Loud, close to panic. Finding a military vessel—a rescue ship—blown to pieces out in the middle of nowhere … Rimes understood the reaction. “Dana, Ji’s taking you in for a closer look at that beacon.”
“Beacon?”
Rimes sent Kleigshoen the video of the beacon flash and coordinates.
“How close is she taking us?” Meyers sounded testy. “I haven’t forgotten what happened to Morelli.”
Another face. Another voice screaming for vengeance. “No one has. Ji’s going to keep her distance. Just be ready in case she needs you. Ladell, you up for checking out that ship’s interior? We need to retrieve the data recorder, if possible.”
“Sure. I haven’t had a chance to try out EVA. Ought to be fun.” Barlowe sounded sincerely excited.
“I got him,” Meyers said.
“Good. Caution, please. Sensor and camera records also. I want to know what happened.” A signal flashed from Imogen; she wanted him back on her channel.
“That would be a lifeboat, Colonel,” Imogen said as soon as he was reconnected. “Someone turned off the SOS transmitter, but it is a lifeboat.”
“I’ll check it out.” Rimes thought back to Morelli’s smile, her husky laugh. “Tell Yama to bring us around. Five klicks out should be safe. You stay clear. I need Ladell—Mr. Barlowe—and Captain Meyers to get into the Vishnu. I think its records could hold valuable information.”
“Do you think that would be wise? Are you qualified for something like that?”
“No.” Rimes held his breath for a few seconds, then let it out slowly. “It’s necessary, though. We have to be careful. I can’t ask someone else to do what I wouldn’t. I’m checked out on basic EVA. I’ve done zero-g training. I’m as qualified as anyone else, and I probably know lifeboats better than most.” Morelli’s legacy.
Imogen let it drop. A few moments later, Rimes felt Yama maneuvering the shuttle again. He could see Ji’s shuttle maneuvering around so that its airlock opened onto a gash in the Vishnu’s ruined hull. Yama brought his shuttle around so that its airlock pointed toward the lifeboat. He came to a full stop five kilometers out.
It took Rimes a few minutes to get into the airlock and the EVA harness, but when he was ready he exited the airlock. He kicked off from the shuttle and activated the harness’s propulsion system.
Immediately, his mind began playing games with him. Time slowed to a crawl. At four kilometers Rimes found his eyes glued to his suit’s atmosphere gauge. Three kilometers, and Rimes was sure he was drifting off course. He had to fight the urge to take over the EVA harness controls. At two kilometers out he was convinced the harness was losing fuel.
As he approached the final kilometer, Rimes wondered what sort of paranoia would get him next.
Kleigshoen sent a channel request. Rimes accepted.
“What’s up, Dana?” There was no sound of panic in his voice, which pleased him.
“Jack, why would someone bother to disable the SOS transponder but not the beacon lights?” Kleigshoen sounded close to panic. “It’s a trap. It has to be.”
Rimes thought for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but when he thought about it, it made sense for the transponder and beacons to share the same circuit. What didn’t make sense was the assumption someone would investigate the SAR ship and swing close enough to spot the beacon.
“I don’t know.” He looked at the harness system readout: seven hundred fifty meters. “Would we have seen the lifeboat without stopping to investigate the Vishnu?”
“Short-range sensors would have picked it up. Don’t go to the lifeboat, Jack.”
Four hundred meters. “I can see it now. I can’t turn back. Not this close.” Rimes muted his communications and called up the Carolina’s sensor feeds. Two hundred fifty meters. Rimes un-muted. “Dana, see if you can get the Carolina to run a concentrated scan on the exploration—”
The sensor sweep suddenly displayed a new object, barely visible behind the distant research ship. The object cleared the research ship, exposing its full profile. It was a metacorporate frigate. Another sensor refresh, and a pocket of shapes separated from the frigate as it accelerated away.
Missiles!
General quarters sounded over the Carolina’s emergency channel. Rimes suddenly remembered what he was doing and looked back at the harness’s display.
Zero meters.
He cursed as he crashed into the lifeboat.
Everything went black for a moment. When he came around he was about fifty meters away from the lifeboat. The impact had not only knocked him back, it had knocked the lifeboat into a slow spin around its horizontal axis. He tried to shake the cobwebs free.
General quarters was still sounding.
Rimes brought up the EVA harness’s interface and locked onto the lifeboat again. Another quick burst from the propulsion system, and he was headed back toward the lifeboat.
“Jack, why’d you go silent?” Kleigshoen was deep into panic. “What are you doing? Get out of there!”
Not wanting to slam into the lifeboat again, Rimes let the harness fire off microbursts to get him into position. He grabbed onto the lifeboat.
“Dana, wha—” Rimes shifted so that he could see the battery pack. It looked normal. At least they didn’t steal that technique. “I need to concentrate.” He began crawling along the lifeboat, carefully grabbing hand grips as he moved. “I told you, I’m not lea—”
Kleigshoen screamed, “Jack, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ve got a missile coming right at you! Get out of there!”
30
17 April, 2174. The Carolina.
* * *
It sounded to Rimes like he was breathing in an echo chamber. Cold sweat collected on his back and ribs before his suit’s collectors could slurp it away for recycling. His stomach twisted, and he tasted the strangely spicy breakfast he’d had on the Carolina.
Red dots traced across his BAS display, tracking the paths of the frigate’s missiles. Green symbols represented the Carolina and its two shuttles, a larger red rectangle the fleeing frigate. Ji’s shuttle was peeling off and away from the SAR wreckage, and Yama’s was accelerating toward the incoming missiles, while the Carolina was putting distance between itself and everything else. Rimes counted a dozen missiles, seven headed for the Carolina, two for each of the s
huttles, and one for him.
Need to concentrate, figure this out.
Missiles like those the frigates used were fire-and-forget, with their own internal targeting systems. They could lock on using specific coordinates or any of a number of tracking mechanisms—signals, energy signature, image profile, even temperature. With the lifeboat’s systems barely operational, Rimes guessed the missiles were locked onto an image profile. He reasoned he could probably move a sufficient distance away from the blast with a decent burst from the EVA harness if he didn’t wait too long.
But leaving the lifeboat wasn’t an option.
He’d done a lot of research into lifeboats after Morelli’s death. They were essentially two pieces: a two-and-a-half meter by one-and-a-half meter sealed habitat and the housing system that recycled the habitat’s water and atmosphere. In an emergency, the sealed habitat could be ejected from the lifeboat by three small explosive charges. The habitat wouldn’t function for long without the housing’s power systems, but he figured they wouldn’t need much time. Either the ships would handle the missiles and pick them up, or the ships would be blown to pieces by the missiles, and he and the lifeboat’s occupants would die.
He popped the lifeboat’s operations panel. It was a fairly simple affair, situated next to the batteries. He tapped the panel’s activation key and brought its display to life.
A soft alarm sounded over Rimes’s system: the missile was ten seconds out.
The warning was reassuring. It required sensors, which meant at least one of the ships was still alive.
At nine seconds, Rimes had the lifeboat’s control interface up. A second later, he tapped in the option for an emergency ejection.
At seven seconds, the lifeboat’s operations panel blanked out.
Rimes cursed and twisted to get a look at the missile. He was ready to abandon the lifeboat. He activated the harness’s propulsion system, and the lifeboat habitat ejected.
Relief flooded over him as he watched the lifeboat and habitat drift away from each other, each still riding on the explosive concussion. While he was speeding in the general direction of the SAR ship, the lifeboat was heading in the general direction of the research vessel. His checked its display.
