“My new face, Captain. I’d like brown eyes.”
Burton smiled. “You would, eh? How come?”
“Yours are brown, like your skin. I’ve decided you can paint me brown if you like.”
God, she was so real. He’d really lost it when he ordered her to upload his library of Zelda and the Spaceways. She was such a great mimic.
“That’s nice of you,” he said.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Captain. It doesn’t mean I like you.”
Burton snorted.
“We should head back to the ship now, Captain.”
She didn’t know. She had no concept of death, or of what was going to happen to Argo very soon. The Merkiaari weren’t sightseeing.
“The ship is gone, Hannah. It’s just us now.”
“How will we get home?”
Burton sighed. “We’ll stay here.”
“Aye, aye, Captain Bligh.”
He wished he could warn people, but his suit’s radio was low powered. If he transmitted from here, the signal would be lost in the clutter, and besides that, it would be weak and take ages to reach anyone. Maybe if he could get out in the open, away from all the iron and nickel in the asteroids...
He frowned as a glimmer of an idea occurred. It probably wouldn’t work, but what else did he have to do? He’d need line of sight with one of the stations in orbit of Argo, and that was a problem. With the ship destroyed, he had to rely on the old mark-one eyeball to find one. Hannah might be better for that part.
“Fuck it,” Burton said.
“You first, Captain,” Hannah replied.
He snickered. “I love you, Hannah. Take me to Argo.”
“My suit thrusters don’t have the required range.”
“That’s okay. Go as fast as you can, and don’t stop.”
“Aye, aye, Captain Bligh,” Hannah said and oriented herself away from Hoskin. “This is going to be one hell of a ride!”
Burton smiled. “You go girl.”
The tether ran out of slack fast. Burton grunted as it yanked him away from the surface into the open. Hannah burned her thrusters at full power as ordered, choosing her path with care. It wouldn’t do to meet a rock now. All too soon, her fuel ran out, and Burton took over. He should have cut her loose to extend his range, but he just couldn’t do it. He burned past, and it was her turn to be cargo.
His thrusters ran out of fuel very quickly, leaving them on a ballistic course. It would take months for their bodies to cross the orbit of Argo, and he doubted anyone would notice. He didn’t mind. He’d lived most of his life in the black, it was somehow fitting he spend eternity here too.
Burial in space wasn’t so bad a fate.
Burton drew Hannah toward him, using the tether, and they clung together, visor to visor. He looked into her glaring eyes, and smiled. He imagined she smiled back. He wished he’d tried harder to find her a face.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday,” Burton said, not taking his eyes from his only friend. “Merkiaari ships lurking near Four-Two-Seven Hoskin. My ship is destroyed, and I’m low on O2. I’ll transmit as long as I can on this channel. Mayday, mayday, mayday.”
He told Hannah to copy him, and they took turns transmitting the warning. She of course, had her own versions, and Burton died laughing. Hannah clutched his dead body, and kept transmitting until her power ran out.
No one responded.
* * *
25 ~ News From The Front
In the Zone, Argo System
The drone burst back into n-space, and scanned its surroundings. Finding no immediate threat of collision, it searched local space for Merkiaari ships. Again, it found none, and deactivated the nuclear device built into its core. Finally, it analysed the system’s primary, and the local stellar neighbourhood. Satisfied it had arrived in the correct system, and within a few tens of kilometres of its intended arrival point, it transmitted its calamitous message.
Fleet priority one.
The drone didn’t care it was the only one to reach Argo, and it didn’t know what its news from Faragut would mean to its creators. Satisfied it had fulfilled its task, it activated its beacon and went to sleep.
Government House, Argo
Admiral Gustav Fischer greeted the Governor’s guests with a pleasant smile plastered upon his face, and even managed a polite word or two when they stopped their inane chatter for a second between breaths. God, he hated the schmoozing, but keeping his political masters happy was part of his job. He’d get it in the neck from the admiralty if he didn’t do his part.
The credits must flow.
Powerful men like Governor Turnball controlled their planetary economies, or their taxation policies at least, and those funded things like the navy’s ship building programmes. Keeping Turnball happy was a priority. So of course, he’d had to accept yet another pointless party invitation, when he’d much rather put his feet up and enjoy a good book.
During a lull in the meet and greet, he drank something that glowed blue, but tasted like fine whiskey, and watched the dancers. He wasn’t alone for more than a few minutes before the next wave of rich civs approached him. He forced his features into a fake welcome smile, and awaited his fate.
He wasn’t much for dancing, the political kind or the social kind, but when Commodore Robyn Medard asked, he could have kissed her. Anything to get away from more pointless pleasantries.
“Thanks for the rescue, Rob,” he said as they took to the floor. “They make my face ache.”
Rob snorted. “I saw them vectoring for an attack. You were about to give them a broadside. I could tell.”
They joined the other couples whirling around the ballroom. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but Rob made him look good. They drew eyes as the quick waltz ended, and they seamlessly flowed into a foxtrot. He hoped Rob didn’t expect too much from him. He’d hated the classes on deportment and etiquette taught by the academy, and he only knew a couple of the archaic dances expected of him. The navy’s officer and a gentleman thing had always felt a bit silly to him.
The music ended, and their audience quietly applauded their performance. Rob glowed. She really seemed to enjoy the dancing, or maybe it was the attention. In their dress whites, they stood out from the civilian crowd. Fischer wondered if she even owned a dress, let alone one of the nearly invisible gowns the rich ladies were wearing tonight.
“Is Raven here somewhere?” Fischer said, as they began a slower twirl around the floor. He had no doubt Rob’s wife owned dozens of dresses in the latest outrageously expensive styles.
Her lips thinned. “We had words last night. We’ll be dissolving our contract.”
Fischer schooled his features to prevent a relieved smile forming. He’d seen this coming a light-year away. Raven had always been a goal-oriented woman, and Rob was just one of her many conquests. It surprised him they’d lasted this long.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fischer said, but he wasn’t really.
Not at all.
He’d never really liked Raven. He’d tolerated her, and liked how happy Rob had been while with her, but Raven didn’t really see people. She saw conquests, and used them as stepping stones. Her marriage to Rob had given her access to the Governor’s office here on Argo. As a matter of fact, she’d taken up a new position as Turnball’s media consultant not long ago.
And now she wanted a divorce.
Funny how that worked.
It wouldn’t surprise him if Raven hopped out of Rob’s bed straight into Turnball’s. She wouldn’t let a little thing like gender preference slow her climb.
“Do you want to talk about it? We could leave early... please say yes.”
Rob smirked. “Don’t beg, Admiral. It’s unbecoming of a Fleet Admiral.”
“Leave rank at the door tonight. It’s Gustav.”
“I think I’ll swear off relationships outside the service from now on.”
“A bit drastic.”
“I don’t understand them. Civs I mean,”
Rob said. “I gave her everything she asked for, and suddenly I’m the one pulling away from her? I’m not the one who wants to dissolve our contract.”
“Don’t lump them all in with Raven. Do you trust me?”
“What sort of question is that? I trust you with my life. We all do.”
He nodded. She meant everyone serving under him, but personal advice was a little different to trusting his orders in battle.
“I’ve dealt with people like Raven many times, and before you say it, not all were civs. They had things in common. They all lacked empathy. All of them were social climbers. And all of them were self-centred.”
“Raven isn’t like that,” Rob protested.
“She is, but you’re too close to her to see it. They’re great actors.”
“She loves me.”
“If that were true we wouldn’t be discussing this. Love isn’t something that concerns them. They have to fake it, because love takes empathy.”
The dance ended, and Rob led the way toward the bar set to one side. Drinks in hand, they watched the dancers.
“Raven used you to make contacts, and now she’ll find someone here to reach the governor. Her strategy is plain to see.”
Rob’s lips thinned. “You’re the better strategist, but I know her. Our breakup is my fault somehow.”
“Don’t do that!” Fischer snapped. “Don’t make excuses for her. Just accept her for who she is, and move on. She can’t change who she is, and you shouldn’t try. It will only make you both unhappy.”
Rob stared at him.
Fischer shrugged. “I never told you about my first wife.”
“You said you let your contract run out.”
“I married for love. She married for position, and Raven is just like her. Before you say you’re sorry, don’t bother. We hated each other in the end. It didn’t take me long to figure out her plan, but by then we’d had the kids. We lived apart for most of that time.”
“What happened to her?”
“She married higher up the food chain, but I had the last laugh. Her husband retired a commodore, and I was promoted to rear admiral that year. I skipped one rank.”
Rob laughed. “I knew about the promotion. Your battle is required reading at the academy.”
Fischer looked away from the worship in her eyes. The slaughter he’d perpetrated at Corvus had earned him a promotion and a fear of enclosed spaces. His bridge had been holed at the close of the action and he’d been trapped. Low on O2 and near death from blood loss, the damage control party had cut him free barely in time. He was the only surviving bridge officer.
That battle gained him notoriety, but at the cost of his friends’ lives. He’d come away with a promotion, a new command, a new leg, and a deep fear of it all happening again.
“... at least they’re good for something,” Rob was saying.
“Promotion will come. No need to slaughter innocents to gain it.”
“They were hardly innocent!”
“I didn’t mean the raiders. I meant their cargo.”
Rob’s face fell. “They wouldn’t have blamed you. I’d rather be dead than a zombie.”
Fischer grimaced. The term applied to victims of illegal mind wipes. He’d killed cargo-holds full of them when he took out the raider ships. Better off dead. Everyone said so at the time, but he wasn’t sure. He would never forget the kids.
He closed his eyes and tried to shake off the horror of it.
Calling them zombies was a good name for them. Mind-wiped to a vegetative state, and then only given back enough personality to make them useful slaves, they would have vanished into obscurity. Men, women, and even children; all had uses on planets controlled by governments that rarely asked questions. Corporations paid taxes, and they needed cheap migrant labour. QED.
Fischer knew evil when he saw it. He’d confronted it many times over the years in the Border Zone. Humans and Merkiaari had a lot in common. Both species treated life as a commodity. At least the Merki didn’t do it to their own people as far as he knew.
“Anyway, that’s history. We were talking about you.”
Rob opened her mouth to answer, but a chiming sound interrupted. She retrieved her wand from a pocket, and frowned as she read the message.
Fischer looked away to give her privacy. It was probably Raven. He hoped not, but he wouldn’t put it past her to twist the knife. Another chime had him reaching into his own pocket. As he retrieved his wand he noticed some of the dancers pausing in their gyrations. All were in uniform, and all were digging in pockets. He hastily called up his messages.
Report to Sector HQ. Earliest possible.
Fischer looked up and saw a uniformed exodus. Everyone wearing uniform, no matter their service, was leaving. The music trailed off and mutters of concern arose. Jilted guests gathered around asking questions of each other. No one had any answers.
“I’m ordered back aboard Triumphant immediately,” Rob said. “Funny that, aren’t you my CO?”
Fischer raised a finger and used his wand to make a call, but the line was busy. “What the hell,” he muttered. “I can’t get through.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be impossible, Admiral?”
“I always thought so.”
“Don’t look now, but we have Turnball incoming.”
Fischer grimaced. “Let’s make a run for it. Consider that report-aboard order null until I say so.”
“Aye, aye, Admiral. Where are we going?”
“Sector, where else?”
They pushed through the crowds, and made their way outside. They lost Governor Turnball in the crush, and hopped into the first taxi they saw.
“Admiralty Headquarters and don’t spare the gees,” Rob said.
“Right you are,” the driver said, and the taxi went vertical to clear local traffic.
Fischer grunted as the acceleration shoved him into his seat. He stared out of his window and saw contrails forming as shuttles raced for orbit. He shivered. There were dozens leaving. All at once.
“Faster,” he muttered. “Go faster. I’ll pay your fines.”
The driver nodded. The taxi’s drive howled as he pushed the throttle to the floor. The city turned to a blur beneath them.
Sector HQ, Argo System
The news from Faragut hit Fischer and his staff like a lightning bolt. Despite all their careful planning for situations just like this, none of them had expected to use any of the scenarios they’d worked up this soon.
“Can we do it, Rob?” Fischer said, reading the data over her shoulder.
Rob nodded slowly, but she was frowning. Fischer wasn’t surprised. There was nothing in Faragut’s data dump worthy of a smile. The information currently displayed in the main holotank predicted they were in for a tough fight.
Rob was an excellent officer, and Fischer was the first to admit, his superior in tactics. He knew his strengths. They lay in the area of logistics and grand strategy. Luckily, he was a good judge of character and prided himself on his ability to delegate tasks to the right people. He’d spent years building 3rd Fleet and surrounding himself with talented officers.
Rob was his best super-dreadnought commander. That was why he’d chosen her ship, ASN Triumphant, as his flagship. It made her his exec in battle and set her above officers considered her superior in rank. Or it did while he lived. If he fell in battle her authority would pass to Admiral Haruki, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Admiral Miyamoto Haruki owed his rank to family connections and political shenanigans. Fischer liked him from a social standpoint. Miya could be charming, and he was an entertaining companion at the obligatory parties they often attended. He wasn’t an incompetent officer, just a very conservative one. On any normal day Haruki was a good enough officer, but normal had just left town. Good enough was no such thing where the Merki were concerned.
“They have the advantage in tonnage,” Fischer said.
“They usually do,” Rob said. “We have mo
re hulls but theirs are bigger. We’ll need everyone for this. It’s going to be bloody.”
Fischer winced. Consolidating all the far flung units of 3rd Fleet would be unpopular. Fleet hated the First Space Lord’s wide deployment plan, and Fischer was no different in that, but the civs loved it. He knew why; everyone in navy uniform did. It made the politicians and those they represented feel safe. Feeling safe and being safe weren’t the same thing, but taking away their security blanket would frighten them. He couldn’t help that.
“There’s no choice,” Fischer agreed. The Merki needed 3rd Fleet’s maximum effort. Luckily, they’d prepared canned orders for this and many other scenarios. “Send the drones.”
Rob nodded. She began the process by plugging her command wand into the board and keying in a security code.
“I never thought we’d need them this soon.”
Fischer hadn’t either. This situation was only one of many they’d planned for together. They hadn’t known the size of the threat they’d face, but Faragut was a high value target. It wasn’t the only one they had to protect. Not by a long stretch.
“The drones are entering foldspace as we speak, Admiral,” Rob said formally for the record. “Might I suggest we grab a shuttle now?”
Fischer nodded. “I want us on our way outsystem ASAP, Commodore.”
They hurried out.
* * *
26 ~ Enclave
Shan Enclave, New Hampshire, Earth
The White Mountains were a beautiful sight at any time, but today they failed to cheer Tei’Varyk. He contemplated a bright New Hampshire morning through the open sliding windows of his office, but the beauty had palled and he yearned for home. The enclave officially became part of Harmony when the Alliance Council ceded it to his people in perpetuity, but he missed the real thing. He wanted to go home, and he didn’t care if it meant shirking his duty.
There.
That was the unthinkable truth he hid from everyone, even his mate, but Tarjei knew him too well to be fooled by his manufactured cheer. She knew he fretted about their cubs growing up on Earth, but how could he not? They’d been born on an alien world. Everything they’d experienced in their short lives was alien to their people, yet they knew it not. Their ignorance of the homeworld hurt his heart.
Incursion: Merkiaari Wars Book 5 Page 19
