Black Box

by Ivan Turner

  “Captains are a rare breed,” he said finally. “Maybe they just felt there wasn’t one in the fleet who would accept the mission.”

  “There’s more to it even than that,” Applegate said finally. “You and I are expendable, just like everyone else on this ship. This is a shitpile, Sam. We may be on top of it but it’s still a shitpile.”

  For one last time, Ukpere nodded. He might not have put it in those exact words, but he agreed with the sentiment one hundred percent.

  Beckett – A Long Time Before

  When Beckett’s first promotion to officer came through, he didn’t know what to do. He had been summoned by the captain and told that he was being jumped to lieutenant, effective the moment they made port. Beckett listened with half his brain absorbing the details and the other half working through his immediate future. He thought of Anabelle. He had been working under her since leaving the academy. She had taught him so much. More than that, she had protected him, saved his life on more than one occasion. That they had become fast friends was never a secret, but their closeness had transcended simple friendship. The mother hen had picked not only her favorite chick, but her favorite of all time. The others told him so. What she had done for Beckett, she had never done for anyone else. Ever.

  Beckett was pretty certain that MacDonald held it against him. It wasn’t so much that MacDonald wanted to be the favorite. Anabelle had had little to do with his training and experience. In fact, Anabelle was really just an obstacle to him. Not only did she stand in his way of becoming sergeant himself, her affection for Beckett was an inexcusable weakness. MacDonald did not like answering to someone with a weakness.

  Once dismissed, Beckett headed straight to the barracks. He knew that Anabelle was off duty. They mostly had their shifts together. Though Mr. Lowell, the infantry officer on board, made the schedules, he often took Anabelle’s advice on who should be where and when. She knew the squad better than he did. As long as she showed him the proper respect, she got to have her say.

  When Beckett arrived, she was cleaning her sidearm. A lot of career infantry found a weapon or two throughout the courses of their careers that they loved and cherished as their own. It was good for a soldier to know his or her own weapon rather than using something simply issued at the start of a mission. Anabelle had found this sidearm during her own training. It was an old piece, nothing that any of the up and comers would even consider carrying, but she had nurtured it from the moment she’d found it and made herself expert with it. Nowadays, though, Beckett rarely saw it when they were in the field. He wondered if he and Anabelle would ever be in the field together again.

  “What’s up?” she asked him as he sat himself on the bunk beside her.

  “I got my promotion,” he said. “Lieutenant.”

  She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. They’d both known it was coming. Anabelle had been watching soldiers leap frog her for her entire career. Beckett had always been a lock to move up, so why did she feel so betrayed?

  “I guess I’ll be answering to you then, now,” she said, still sliding the oiled brush in and out of the barrel of the old gun.

  He shook his head. “I’m being transferred. Captain says Monroe isn’t ready to move up yet.”

  Monroe was the current lieutenant. She was an engineer and would probably top out around 5th or maybe 4th on a ship’s chain of command. Anabelle thought she was an idiot. Of course, Anabelle had two thoughts about people. You were either a respectable member of the human race or you were a complete idiot. She wasn’t too keen on the captain, either.

  “We make port in two days,” she said.

  He nodded. Why did he feel guilty? “I’m heading over to the Courage.”

  Anabelle started to laugh. Every once in a while, she would release an innocent little laugh that betrayed the existence of the girl she’d once been. Beckett loved those moments. They revealed her humanity. This, however, wasn’t one of those times. This laugh was sardonic and without mirth. She was telling him that the ploy of the Admiralty was not lost on her.

  “Jepsen’s got infantry over there,” she said. “He’s fourth in the chain.”

  “He’ll be my boss.”

  “Not for long,” she said. “He’s old and he’s out of favor. He’ll retire after one or two more tours and you’ll take his place.”

  “I doubt they’ll kick me up another four spots after one or two tours.”

  Anabelle finally put the gun down. The pieces were laid out on a cloth on the floor, each one now cleaned, oiled, and ready for reassembly. Turning to face Beckett, she looked at him with sad and terrible eyes.

  “Ted, those fuckers on the Admiralty engineer everything down to the last detail. For you now, everything is a test.”

  “Anabelle...”

  “It’s okay, Ted. They like you. They want to give you your own ship. If you do well as a lieutenant, they’ll bump you up to fourth. I give it one tour as fourth before they bump you up to XO. After that, it’ll be just a few more months in the cooker before you’re captain.”

  She made it sound so quick and easy. To him it sounded like two or three years, not that that was a long time between lieutenant and captain. Hell, most people had to struggle up that ladder rung by rung. He should feel flattered.

  “Why do I feel so dirty?”

  “Because they’re testing your integrity.”

  He knew it was true. Anabelle had taught him many things about how to behave on a battlefield. Even more so, she had taught him that all of the Space Force was a battlefield. You had to fight for every scrap of recognition and if you didn’t, it was because there were expectations. The Admiralty was buying Beckett the shoes and the coats and the jewels. When the time came, he’d damned well better put out.

  He wondered what they’d do with him if he didn’t.

  “MacDonald says you’re my weakness,” she said, echoing his thoughts from earlier.

  “MacDonald’s an asshole,” Beckett replied.

  “He may be,” she agreed. “But he’s got good instincts.”

  “Anabelle...”

  She waved a hand at him. “It’s okay with me. Everyone has a weakness. If mine has to be someone as strong as you are, then I’m okay with that.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He could hardly even look at her. This was a Ted Beckett whose potential far outweighed his skill. He had yet to develop the experience necessary to turn him into someone strong.

  “What’s your weakness, Ted?” she asked.

  “I...” he stopped. He was going to say that he didn’t have one. That was the proper response, right? But, no. She had just told him that everyone has one.”

  She smiled. It was something she did so rarely.

  “Maria Hengewood is the captain of the Courage,” she said, completely dropping their conversation. This was something Anabelle did when she felt she’d made her point. “Watch your step with her. From what I hear, she has a taste for young male officers. They call her the Black Widow.”

  Medical Advice

  Very few people had the temerity to approach Captain Beckett personally. Even fewer would do so in his stateroom. If he was needed in Control, he would be summoned electronically. So when his door chimed, waking him from a less than pleasant doze, he grew immediately irritated. It had been barely two hours since the conference. He knew he should be in consultation with the crew chief, trying to size up the new officers, but instead he had chosen to brood alone in his bunk.

  He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he opened his door, surely another disgruntled officer with a complaint about the way he ran his ship. Samantha Cabrera, however, was someone he had not expected to see. She often shied away from him. Duty had infrequently brought them close together, but those incidents had been too filled with work for anything awkward. After their last encounter, he’d hoped that she would do her best to keep her distance. Apparently, he had underestimated her. It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive. With her shor
t hair, slim, almost shapeless body, and hawkish nose, she was just his type. But she was also a woman wondering when her future was going to become her present. There were smoldering embers inside of her but the flame had yet to ignite. When it did, he did not want to be the man standing inside the flames. He was too old for that.

  “May I come in, Captain?” Cabrera asked.

  He stepped aside, keying the switch that folded up his bunk. Cabrera stepped in, looking around the room with curiosity. He noticed that the fingers of her left hand shook a bit. Was she nervous?

  “What can I do for you, Doctor?”

  She gave him a sharp look. He wasn’t sure if the look was meant to reprimand him because he didn’t know why she was there or because he had felt it necessary to address her by her title instead of by her name.

  She indicated the picture of the baby on the desk. “Cute kid,” she said. “Is he yours?”

  Beckett looked at it as he often did and was saddened a bit. “He’s me.”

  “You keep a baby picture of yourself?”

  He nodded. “When I have the time, I like to look at him and wonder where it all went wrong.”

  That was a serious lowering of his guard and he regretted saying it almost immediately. He regretted it even more when Cabrera used it as an opportunity.

  “That’s kind of what I’m here about, Captain. Things going wrong. Do you think this delay is wise? I mean, Ghost attacks all are random.”

  There was a slight hesitation on Beckett’s part as he put the two pieces together. Was she trying to give him career advice? Hardy suspected her of being on the other side of the political block and maybe she was just trying to tell him his job. Either way, it infuriated him. “Doctor Cabrera, what is the sum total of your tactical experience?”

  “Well, not much…”

  “Then I don’t really understand how you might think it appropriate to come in here and question mine?”

  She panicked for a minute and began searching desperately for a way out. What the hell am I doing here? But in the end she steeled herself against his rebuttal and continued. “I don’t think it’s really a question of tactics, Captain. It’s a Ghost attack.”

  He smiled, actually smiled. “There’s a first time for everything, Doctor. One day, the Ghosts are going to realize that we don’t take them seriously anymore and they’re going to use that to their advantage. Then they’re going to slam into us with everything they’ve got.”

  “And you think that day is today?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not likely.”

  “Then what are you doing? Applegate is beside himself and Ukpere is taking notes.”

  He faced her down. Her mention of the two new officers put him off his guard. If there was a conspiracy, those two were surely part of it. Did she know something? “Samantha, why are you here?”

  Beckett was nothing if not strategic. By using her first name, he hoped to lower her guard. Unfortunately, she didn’t rise to the bait.

  “I’m here because you’re delaying out of spite. I don’t know why you’re doing it but I can tell that you are. You don’t like this assignment for some reason. So why don’t you just get it over with?”

  He switch back to formal. “I’ll make my own decisions, thank you, doctor.”

  “You know, Ted, one day they’re going to find a reason to get rid of you and they are going to make it stick.”

  “And you think that day is today?”

  “Yes,” she said finally looking him squarely in the eye. “I really do.”

  Sadly enough, so did he.

  The Immovable Object

  Boone had a quick rest and a shower and then took the opportunity afforded him by the shifted schedule to head down to the hangar bay and inspect the vehicles. He may have backed down to the captain (actually, he had turned and run) but he had set himself a course and he was damned well going to fly it.

  The Valor was equipped with four vehicles. Of those four, three were lightweight air bikes. Each bike could elevate to a height of eighteen feet and carried up to two people and some supplies. They were great if you needed to get somewhere quickly. The military vehicle was called a rumbler. A rumbler was an off road vehicle with self inflating tires and multiple robotic arms which could clear terrain from its path. Each of the arms had a different type of “hand” so that different types of terrain could be tossed aside. The rumbler on the Valor had the capacity to uproot small trees if it came to that. The pilot box held two people, one to steer and the other to navigate. Along the sides were four gunner cubbies, two on each side, and there was an armored hatch in the center which could sit four passengers comfortably. It was a bulky vehicle that couldn’t move very fast, but it came in handy when you needed to get some very mean people into a place where others didn’t want them.

  The airbikes were easy to prepare. On each side was a convertible holster. It wasn’t good for hand guns or other small weapons, but you could put anything long into them from a sword to a Kippens .991. Every bike was to be equipped with a weapon and a walking stick. The walking sticks were long metal rods with insulated handles. On the handle were three controls. The first sent a jolt of electricity through the stick. If used properly it could be lethal, but it was really meant as a means of stunning an opponent. The second button caused the rod to heat. It took some time to get to full temperature, but made for a useful survival tool. The last button ejected a blade off of the end. If the first and last buttons were used in concert you could stop a man’s heart with a flesh wound. The pack on the rear of the bike was stuffed with first aid, water, and survival rations. These were standard. For particular missions, the contents of the packs were adjusted depending on situational circumstances.

  Though Boone had inspected the bikes before launch, it was the job of his staff to prep them in-flight. His purpose beforehand had been to make sure they were mechanically sound. Only one of them had been used on their last flight out but it had been cleaned and maintained on the way back. All three were in excellent shape.

  The rumbler was meant to be far more equipped than any of the bikes. There were four compartments concealed on its body for weapons and supplies and each compartment was meant to be stocked. Though it wasn’t technically a combat vehicle, it was treated like one on smaller ships.

  Boone was glad to see that all of his orders had been carried out. Each vehicle was well equipped and ready for use. In fact, they were over equipped. There were a few extra weapons and a lot of extra ammunition. Depending on where they set the Valor down, they might need the vehicles to reach the landing site of the Einstein, but Boone wasn’t aware that they were expecting combat. Only one person could have ordered the vehicles overstocked the way they were.

  “Boone?”

  He turned, startled. It was Rodrigo.

  “Sergeant,” he greeted. “What are you doing down here?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  It was none of her business what he was doing. It was his job to be wherever he felt he needed to be. “I was inspecting the vehicles to make sure all the preparations had been carried out properly.”

  “Really?” she said in a mildly patronizing tone. She began to saunter forward, taunting him with her movements. “Me, too.”

  He swallowed hard. This had already been a rough trip, what with the incident on the bridge and then having to confront the captain about it. Rodrigo was about four hundred times as intimidating as Beckett and his immediate subordinate rather than a superior officer. By all rights, he should be able to put her in her place at any moment, but he knew she’d never tolerate it, turn it around on him, and then get Beckett’s seal of approval. What Boone needed to do was focus on the goal of improving his efficiency and his reputation so he could get the hell off the Valor.

  “Thank you, sergeant,” he said stolidly.

  She stopped up short, her face showing confusion for just a moment. He guessed that she didn’t understand why she hadn’t gotten a
rise out of him with her attitude.

  “Is everything to your satisfaction?” she asked. Her tone was still patronizing but now she was probing, suspicious. The truth was that Boone never conducted inspections. He relied heavily on Rodrigo to get the job done. Of course, that’s what the captain expected since she was unofficially his Infantry Officer and Boone was unofficially nobody, just a warm body in a uniform. It wasn’t right that he was trying to exercise authority.

  He said, “Everything looks good to me. By all means, carry out your own inspection.” Right there he could have ordered her to conduct the inspection and file a report, but that would have been an attempt to get one over on her and he was loath to do so. The last thing he needed was a battle of spite with Anabelle Rodrigo.

  Planetfall

  As expected, twenty four hours passed with no new developments. Mr. Ukpere reported that the wormhole left behind by the Ghost ship was shrinking at a typical rate and wasn’t even large enough to admit a ship by the time the day had passed. Beckett ordered that it be monitored round the clock until it was gone. As ordered, the officers all took their duty posts at the end of the twenty four hours. Beckett stepped down into Control to see Boone at the weapons station and Jack Tunsley at the Engineering station. Allison Dorian sat in the pilot’s chair, which was a relief. She could very easily have assigned Tedesco as the pilot and been well within the bounds of his orders. He would have rather seen someone else in the weapons chair besides Boone, but the truth is that there was no one else. Rodrigo couldn’t do it. For just that one moment, Beckett understood the Admiralty’s frustration with her.

  Connected by voice and computer communications, Sam Ukpere was in the science lab. Rollins was in Computer Control and Applegate was at the analysis station. Cabrera reported all secure in medical. Rumple Hardy was absent from Control, which was not unusual. He said that he always felt claustrophobic in a room cramped with officers. Their heads were way too big for the breathing space.