by Jake Bible
“Ugh, I hate this crud,” Geist said. “Can’t we just be down on some planet with our plasma rifles blasting the foing hell out of bad guys? That’s what I’m here for, not this devious spook game stuff.”
“It can’t all be shoot ‘em up fun,” Cookie said. “When you’re SpecOps then the spook game stuff goes hand in hand a lot of the time.”
“Yeah, but you’re a Cervile, so you don’t really care,” Geist said as they left the ruins of the brig and headed to the bridge.
“What the fo does that mean?” Cookie asked.
“Cerviles are sneaky as hell as it is,” Geist said and shrugged. “You guys get off on this sneaky stuff.”
“I’m going to pretend that your ignorant chameleon mouth just got confused on how to say something smart,” Cookie said. “Because even you can’t be that bigoted stupid.”
“Just saying,” Geist replied. “No offense, man. You guys make fun of my camouflage all the time.”
“That’s because Tcherians are easy to make fun of,” Cookie said. “Look at you.”
“Ha ha, fair enough,” Geist said. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick, just stating that all the Cerviles I’ve known have loved the intrigue side of things.”
“Yeah, we do,” Cookie said. “Still no reason to point it out.”
The coms in their ears squawked loudly and they both winced.
“Will you two shut up,” Hole ordered, “and get your butts up to the bridge. We’re about to make an off-grid jump and you’ll want to be strapped in.”
“Off-grid?” Geist and Cookie asked at the same time, their eyes going wide with an even mix of fear and surprise.
“I’m not going to repeat myself,” Hole said. “And tell Mug that she has about sixty seconds to make sure our guests are secured before she joins us.”
“Yeah, about that…” Geist said.
“Mug and our guests are gone,” Cookie said. “Moltrans. I’ll fill you in when we get up there.”
“Moltrans?” Hole asked then laughed. “Of course. It all makes sense now. Get your fleshy butts up here double time, copy?”
“Copy,” Cookie said.
“Copy,” Geist echoed.
They took off running down the corridor, headed for the closest ladder that would get them up to the next level and directly to the bridge.
Eighteen
Only Hole showed no surprise as Motherboard addressed the rest of Zero while the Eight-Three-Eight traversed the nonexistent space between the two ends of the off-grid portal. Motherboard, her pilot’s seat swiveled to face everyone else on the bridge, waited patiently as everything she told them sunk fully in.
Cookie sat there, his hackles up on the back of his neck, his pointed ears almost flat against his head. The vertical slits in his eyes were nearly imperceptible and his brows were knitted so tight that it looked as if his face would collapse in on itself.
Geist kept blinking, each lid closing around an eye independently of the other, while the corners of his mouth twitched. He looked like he wanted to ask a hundred questions, but his lips had called a mutiny and refused to obey.
Wanders was still seated at the weapons console, but his hands were neatly folded in his lap, all four of them, instead of engaging the weapons controls. He waited, his head back, his stone eyes staring up at the ceiling of the bridge.
Motherboard waited. She knew her Team well enough not to push them. The questions would come, along with a healthy dose of indignation; she just had to let them happen in their own time, at their own pace, or she risked losing their confidence and, most of all, their trust.
“Knock it off,” Hole said.
“Hole,” Motherboard cautioned.
“No, LT, they’ve heard everything, so it’s time to act like professionals,” Hole said. She pointed a finger at each one of them in turn then stood up from the co-pilot’s seat. “I want assessments now. Give me your thoughts and let’s figure a way out of this.”
“Still no word from Colonel Leguin?” Cookie asked.
“No,” Motherboard said. “But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t tried. Com signals can’t reach us while we’re traveling off-grid.”
“Why do they call it off-grid?” Geist asked. “The Grid is the info stream. Seems like, since this is a backdoor wormhole, it would be called off-hole or off-worm or something like that.”
“That’s your question?” Hole asked, looking less than pleased.
“I’m stumped as to everything else,” Geist said. “We know there is corruption in Fleet Intelligence, but we don’t know how deep. We also don’t know how far it’s spread into the rest of the Fleet. Has it worked its way to the top? Is it just in the Marines or is it Navy as well? Maybe it’s only Fleet Intelligence and all the grunts are still on the straight and narrow.”
“What’s on the other hand?” Wanders asked.
“Huh?” Geist replied.
“You said on the one hand which implies there is another hand,” Wanders said. “What thoughts are there?”
“I haven’t gotten that far,” Geist said. “Still working with just the one.”
“This off-grid portal is taking us to where? The Gorf System?” Cookie asked. “Which planet are we going to hide out on? That whole system is made up of jungle planets. That’s a lot of life for us to get lost in. Scanners can’t tell what is what on any of those planets.”
“Rylia Five,” Motherboard said.
“Oh, hell no!” Wanders shouted and bolted to his feet. “No foing way!”
“That planet has more snakes per square foot than anywhere else in the galaxy,” Cookie said. “It will be impossible for Fleet, or Syndicate, scanners to tell our life signs from all those wriggling beasties.”
“Wriggling beasties?” Wanders snapped. “You think this is a joke, Cookie?”
“I think I’m a Cervile and a couple of snakes do not bother me in the least,” Cookie said. “I wouldn’t think they’d bother you. Your skin is stone, Wanders. What could a snake possibly do to you?”
“Snakes like rocks,” Wanders said. “You’ve never known that? They love to find a warm Gwreq and just curl up on us, soaking up all of our body heat.”
“Permanently?” Geist asked.
“No, not permanently,” Wanders said. “They aren’t vampires, they’re snakes. It’s just that they are attracted to Gwreqs.”
“Never seen a Slinghasp try that with you,” Geist said. “They’re basically snake people.”
“Says the chameleon,” Cookie said.
“Shut it,” Hole ordered. “Wanders? You will deal with your irrational fear of snakes or I’ll—”
“Some of them get to two hundred feet long and two feet wide,” Wanders said then sat back down. He crossed all four arms. “Chew on that for a second.”
“Yes, big snakes,” Hole said, unfazed by the herpetological trivia. “We have big guns. I think we’ll be matched perfectly.”
“Rylia Five is the best place for us to regroup until we have new orders,” Motherboard said. “I know a spot, snake-free, where we can set down and not worry about anyone discovering us. I’ve used it before and it is secure.”
“Not if you’ve used it before,” Cookie said. “Are we seriously not considering what that VilMon guy said about our families and such? The Syndicate has long arms and deep pockets, they probably know more about all of us than we do about ourselves.”
“They don’t know this,” Motherboard said. “No one does. Trust me, Team, I am not steering us wrong here.”
There was a short beep then the Eight-Three-Eight jolted slightly.
“What was that?” Geist asked.
“End of the line,” Motherboard said and swiveled her seat back around to face the view screen.
There was a blurring of the image then everything became crystal clear in a second. Before them was a system so green that it almost hurt the eyes. There was certainly the deep blue and blackness of space between the green, but with approximately thirteen jungle planets
all orbiting around a fern-green star, there wasn’t a species in the galaxy that couldn’t be wowed by the verdant audacity of the Gorf System.
Motherboard pointed to an emerald-green planet situated between one that looked like it was lit up in pure neon and another that had the sickly pallor of a perpetually nauseous alcoholic.
“Rylia Five,” she said. “I’ll take us around to the far side. We’ll be landing at night over there which will keep us hidden from the local fauna. It also helps me see our landing zone.”
“You can see our landing zone at night?” Geist asked. “Why is that, LT?”
“It glows,” Motherboard replied.
“Yes, good to know, but I was hoping for a more specific answer,” Geist said. “Perhaps as to why it glows?”
“If I tell you then you’ll think I’m mad,” Motherboard says.
“Yes, well…” Geist said and looked at the others. He got a double shrug from Wanders, a slit-pupil eye roll from Cookie, and a blank stare from Hole. Geist cleared his throat. “I’m willing to risk being the one to say that I think we’ve stepped off that porch and are fully in the lawn of no foing crud here, LT.”
“We’re going to land in an active volcano,” Motherboard said. “It hasn’t erupted in two centuries, but it still has its moments of instability. It also blocks any and all detection of the Eight-Three-Eight. If anyone has tracked us this far, which I doubt, but would be a fool to assume otherwise, then they can scour every single planet in this system and never even get a hint as to our location.”
“Is this one of your boltholes from back in your Intelligence days?” Cookie asked. “A hideaway from your usual hideaways.”
“Yes,” Motherboard said. “And it is one I never reported in a single piece of correspondence with Fleet Intelligence. I’ve never come here with anyone else and I’ve never mentioned it to a single soul. You all are the first.”
“Good to know,” Cookie said.
The Eight-Three-Eight closed in on the planet and Motherboard set a course for the far side, making sure to steer clear of the six moons that seemed to be placed in orbit around the green planet in a random and haphazard fashion. Once past the satellites, Motherboard brought the ship into the atmosphere at a low angle.
The view screen was filled with the flames and fire of entry then nothing but smoke as they descended into the heavy, thick cloud cover that enveloped Rylia Five over half the year. Some would call it the rainy season, but the truth was it always rained on Rylia Five. It rained heavily on all of the planets in the Gorf System, hence the constant and unstoppable greenery.
The lieutenant banked the Eight-Three-Eight hard to the right and spiraled down through the night sky to their destination. It was hard to miss even with darkness shrouding that side of the planet.
“That’s quite the volcano,” Wanders said. “You do know I’m a stone race and Gwreqs and lava don’t get along so well, right?”
“No one and lava get along so well, man,” Geist said. “You think I’d fair better than you?”
“You can handle complete vacuum, I bet you can handle some lava heat,” Wanders said.
“You are such a whiner,” Cookie said as he stood and stretched. He stumbled his way to stand behind Motherboard and Hole, his eyes focused on the view screen. “How hot are we talking, though, LT? Are we here for a while or just long enough to figure out a different hiding spot?”
“It’s as hot as Hell down in there,” Motherboard said. “But our ship can handle it. No hotter than reentry.”
“I’ll be able to repair our shields,” Hole said.
“And switch the codes,” Geist interrupted.
“Yes, and switch the codes,” Hole said. “Then I’ll work on the com system. Make sure we can’t be monitored by Fleet Intelligence when we try to connect with Colonel Leguin. We go from there.”
“We think we can trust him?” Wanders asked.
“Leguin is the only one we can trust,” Motherboard said.
“Just double checking,” Wanders replied.
“I appreciate that,” Motherboard said. “But we will be cautious when we contact him. I may trust him, but I do not trust anyone that might be around him. We’ll have to be careful when we make the call.”
“Hole knows what she’s doing, but what are we doing?” Geist asked.
“The rest of you will accompany me,” Motherboard said. “We’re going to make some mods to Eight-Three-Eight. You saw the Syndicate fighters. They are more maneuverable and can out fly us easily. I want to minimize that when we go hunting for the Syndicate.”
Cookie made a low growling in his throat. “Is that wise? They’ll be expecting it.”
“I know,” Motherboard said. “But we can’t leave Mug to be tortured or worse. We also still haven’t completed our op. That was to retrieve the Keer boy, obtain custody of Sha Morgoal, and interrogate him thoroughly at the black site. We came close, but we did not succeed.”
“That was when we thought we had the Fleet backing us up,” Geist said. “This isn’t going to be a picnic now that we are on our own.”
“Maybe we don’t have to be,” Wanders said.
“How do you mean?” Motherboard asked.
“No,” Hole stated flatly.
“Hear me out,” Wanders said, holding up all four of his arms.
“We do not need to hear you out because the answer is no,” Hole said.
“Pretty sure I’m still the CO,” Motherboard said to Hole. “How about I hear Wander’s idea before we reject it?”
“You’ll say no,” Hole said.
“Go ahead, Wanders, what do you have in mind?” Motherboard asked.
“Something has been bugging me since the op on Monia’Ja,” Wanders said. “We weren’t just dealing with Sha Morgoal’s people, but Skrangs as well. I doubt I’m wrong when I say that interrogating Sha Morgoal has something to do with the Skrang presence there, right?”
“You are not wrong,” Motherboard said.
“But what about the Edgers? Why were they there?” Wanders asked.
“Your answer will be no,” Hole said to Motherboard.
“Yeah, I think I know where this is going,” Motherboard responded without looking back at Wanders. Her focus was on piloting the ship down to the caldera of the volcano below the ship. “But continue, Wanders, I want to hear your pitch.”
“I may, uh, well, know someone within the Edger organization,” Wanders said.
“You’re calling those misfits and separatists an organization?” Cookie laughed. “That’s stretching things a bit.”
“Can you trust this person you know?” Motherboard asked.
“With my life,” Wanders said.
“What about our lives?” Motherboard asked.
“That depends on why the Edgers were there on Monia’Ja,” Wanders said. “When we have the coms scrambled so the Fleet can’t overhear us then I’ll reach out and see what intel I can get.”
“Fair enough,” Motherboard said. “I’m not against the idea, but I’m not sold. Let’s land and do what we need to do then we’ll revisit your suggestion. Until then, we focus on making the Eight-Three-Eight if not a match, at least a contender against the Syndicate fighters. Hooah.”
“Hooah!” the others responded.
Nineteen
The Eight-Three-Eight could handle the heat of the volcano, but the teammates of Zero could not. Not without some extra protection.
“Crud, look at this place,” Geist said as he stepped to the edge of the Eight-Three-Eight’s rear ramp.
The ship sat on a huge outcropping of what looked like pure obsidian. The black glass shone brightly in the glow of the churning and bubbling lava far below. Geist glanced up and saw nothing but thunderclouds far above. He knew it was raining hard, the scanners had picked up the precipitation, but not a drop made it to where he stood. It all became water vapor before it could pass the edge of the caldera.
Dressed in personal shields and environmental suits, M
otherboard, Cookie, and Wanders joined Geist at the edge of the ramp. They stared at the insanity of their surroundings. Except for Motherboard. She ignored the surroundings and continued off the ramp and around the side of the ship, her right hand holding a huge span-hammer that she pointed at the right wing.
“Yes, it is a crazy place to find yourself,” Motherboard said. “But get over it. We have work to do, Zero. The longer we take, the more likely we don’t find Mug alive.”
“She’d hate this place,” Geist said. “She gets overheated in the cold of space. This? Yeah, she’d be growling so hard she’d make the volcano quake.”
There was a slight rumble and everyone froze. Again, except for Motherboard.
“It’s a volcano, people!” Motherboard yelled as she jumped up and grabbed onto a small handhold recessed into the right wing. She tossed the span-hammer onto the wing and pulled herself up after it. “Hello? Time to get to work. You know your jobs!”
Cookie smacked Geist in the chest as he walked by to work on the underside of the right wing. Geist flipped him off then looked at Wanders who hadn’t moved from the edge of the ramp one step.
“You gonna be okay?” Geist asked. “Just think of this as another op. You never hesitate or get whiny during an op.”
“You all gotta stop calling me whiny,” Wanders said.
“You have been exceptionally whiny,” Cookie said over the com, having moved out of Wanders’ sightline. “Since we picked up Sha Morgoal, you have been complaining like a little gump bitch.”
“Off my game is all,” Wanders said. “No down time to decompress. Starting to feel the stress.”
“Then stop it,” Cookie said. “You may be the best sniper the Fleet Marines has ever seen, but that don’t mean foing crud if you fall apart like a baby every time we come off an op.”
“Cookie? Stow it,” Motherboard ordered. “Wanders, get your head back in the game and toughen the fo up. I don’t know what’s going on in that rocky brain of yours, but you best get your pebbles straight or I’m leaving you here in this volcano.”
“I’m good, LT,” Wanders said.
