by M. D. Cooper
“They’re calling it beef on bun on bread, too. Like that’s a thing.” She opened the sandwich and sighed dramatically as she stared down at the smothered pile of chopped beef. “Seriously, Gunny. No decent pit master would hide a good smoke ring, either.”
“Fine. More for me, then.”
Williams made a grab for the sandwich, but Vonda was faster.
“And no self-respecting Marine turns down chow.” She bit into the gooey mess, sauce dribbling down her chin. “Guess I’ll just have to suck it up, Gunny.”
Williams snorted, turning back to his own sandwich. He polished it off in short order and had started in on the second one when Vonda broke the silence.
“That NSAI node must be damned important to risk sending a ship through the blocAaron to deliver it,” she murmured thoughtfully as she wiped her fingers while staring over at the admin building. “Ship had a Disker registry, but the ones flying it sure as hell weren’t SWSF.”
Williams shot her a sharp glance. “You saw them?”
“I watched the feeds from Taylor’s team. Hard to miss. They were the only ones not in armor.” She turned and met his gaze steadily. “Just because they weren’t soldiers doesn’t mean they weren’t good at what they did. If we didn’t know we were up against people a lot better trained than a local resistance group, the way that pilot flew would have clued us in.”
Williams grunted again but remained silent, taking a big bite of his beef on bun on bread—whatever the hell that was. He grimaced as he took another swig of the beer. Vonda might have weird opinions on barbecue, but she was dead on target about the local brew; stuff was barely drinkable.
They sat that way for another few minutes, the breeze coming off the river teasing with the scent of rich loam and reeds. The sounds of the base were punctuated by the occasional call of a morning bird.
Then Vonda startled him with a comment.
“You recognize any of them, Gunny?”
The comment was stated in a mild tone, the Marine staring straight ahead as she delivered it.
Williams chewed, thinking. It didn’t really matter one way or another if he admitted to recognizing Evans’ sister. But for some reason, he’d kept that information to himself. Hadn’t even written it into his after-action report.
He’d wondered if anyone in the platoon would have noticed the shot he didn’t take. Now he knew.
I owed Joe Evans my life. Guess I’ve paid that forward now, by sparing his sister.
“Diskers,” he said, choosing to interpret her question more broadly than perhaps she’d intended when she’d asked it. “No doubt about it. Not sure this group’s one we’ve run into before. Been a few years since the TSF’s pitted the 242 against them.” He shrugged. “No way to know, I suppose. They all look alike to me.”
“Any idea how those two on the ship factor in?”
He shrugged again, unsure why he was being so cagey about Katelyn’s identity. “Maybe just a mercenary crew, hired to deliver the node.”
Vonda’s line of questioning was cut short by Jeff, Bravo Company’s AI.
He popped the last bite of sandwich in his mouth as he acknowledged the summons and stood. “CO’s calling,” he explained.
Vonda just nodded as Williams licked the sauce off his fingers, tossed his trash in a recycler, and strode toward the main building.
TWO IF BY SEA
STELLAR DATE: 3227475 / 06.05.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: SWSF Garrison, Hjerta Rainforest, Teka Continent
REGION: InnerSol, Sol Space Federation
Wren was waiting at the edge of the small clearing as the Damus landed. The AI was wearing a compact stealth battle frame, nanosheathed in jungle camouflage. Beside her, as promised, were two corpsmen with a stretcher between them.
Katelyn rushed through her post-flight, unclipped her harness, and headed for Rory at the hatch. Her sister had already deployed the ramp, and the corpsmen were on their way up as she knelt beside Rory’s jumpseat.
“I’m not completely helpless, you know,” the brunette snapped, just as one of the corpsmen tapped Katelyn on the shoulder.
“We’ll take it from here, ma’am.”
Katelyn saw her sister eye the two resistance soldiers appreciatively as she stepped back to make room. As one of them ran a scanner over Rory’s injuries, the other lifted her into his arms.
She looked back at Katelyn from over his shoulder, waggled her eyebrows, and winked. “Don’t wait up, sis.”
Katelyn snorted in response, a reluctant grin settling as she shook her head and followed them down the ramp.
Wren waved a greeting as Katelyn approached. “Nice to meet you in person. Hang on a sec.”
The AI spun, calling out instructions to the garrison’s flight service crews to secure the Damus and get the ship refueled.
That finished, Wren give Katelyn her full attention. Head cocked to one side, the AI somehow gave the impression she was smiling, even though the battleframe didn’t exactly lend itself to facial expressions.
“Sorry your arrival didn’t go as planned. The TSF sent in reinforcements. The 242nd Regiment’s back to full strength; the 8th Battalion did an orbital drop two days ago.” Her tone grew acerbic. “Took out a garrison of over fifteen hundred of ours a hundred klicks east of the city. They’re pushing hard to retake Tarja.”
Katelyn blew out a breath. “Well, that explains the warm welcome at the fuel depot, then.” She shot Wren a questioning look, waving her hand around. “Still intend to do more fighting, or are we now in strategic retreat mode?”
Wren made a noncommittal sound, and Katelyn took the hint, and stopped fishing for information.
“One of our company COs would like to debrief you,” Wren said a moment later. “She’s in the HQ tent, up ahead.”
Katelyn nodded and followed the AI through the entrance. The CO was leaning over a holo, discussing something with the two officers flanking her. She straightened, blanking the holo and giving Katelyn a sharp once-over when Wren announced her.
Jakobsen was one of those hardened, no-nonsense SWSF commanders she’d met a time or two back on Sedna. The woman’s face remained a stern, expressionless mask during Wren’s quick update. She nodded once, a quick jerk of the head, when Katelyn passed her the token for the ship’s holo of the skirmish, but otherwise, didn’t do anything more than grunt.
Jakobsen activated the recording, expression morphing into displeasure as the battle progressed. When she came to the moment the big Marine had used the NSAI node as a shield to keep Katelyn from getting a clean shot, the commander froze the recording and rounded on her with a scowl.
“Timestamp indicates you were running the autoturret. That’s a clean shot, Evans. Why in Sedna’s frozen core is that Marine still alive?” Jakobsen’s glower made Katelyn feel as if she were being accused of consorting with the enemy.
Unaccountably, an image rose in her head, of that same Marine. He’d had her in his own sights, but had refrained from taking his shot, giving her a cocky salute instead.
She wondered why the memory made her feel vaguely guilty. That, combined with the stress of the day, had her snapping back at the commander, voice raised in accusation.
“Why the hell didn’t you secure that location before we arrived?” she retorted.
She knew it was an ill-advised remark. She didn’t need to hear the sudden silence that fell around them, nor see the glint in Jakobsen’s eye to tell her that. Katelyn just no longer cared.
She was tired, hungry, and worried about Rory. And even though she knew it wasn’t a fair assessment, she couldn’t help but feel that she was to blame for Rory’s injury. So when Jakobsen’s glacier stare drilled into her, she gave it right back.
The sound of a throat clearing from a person who didn’t possess an esophagus broke in.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Wren’s tone was diffident. “But I have some information that might help
clarify a bit better what happened at that fuel depot.”
Jakobsen held Katelyn’s eyes for another long moment, the warning in them clear, before turning to the AI.
“I just downloaded a classified packet that arrived with the Damus,” Wren continued. “That NSAI node isn’t what it looks like.”
The AI turned to face Katelyn and paused. Something about the AI’s stance made her realize what Wren was implying.
“Stars!” Katelyn looked from the AI to the commander and back again. “You mean you didn’t know he was coming?”
“Who was coming?” Jakobsen’s voice was cold, her arms crossed.
Katelyn could tell she was all out of patience.
“One of Admiral Urdon’s operatives is inside. An AI named Aaron.” She shrugged. “He insisted we smuggle his core onto Venus inside that NSAI node. I thought you knew.”
“What? That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever—” Jakobsen stared incredulously, the news startling the commander out of her impassive mien.
Katelyn nodded. “I thought the same thing when we picked him up in Cruithne. But then he explained how important that node is.” She glanced between the two. “He said that if it were to fall into the wrong hands, the war could potentially be lost. It’s that important. So he felt he had to remain with it, in order to defend it from being hacked.”
Jakobsen stood staring at Katelyn for a full half-minute before she turned to face Wren. “How do we know he’s legit?” she demanded.
The AI tilted her head. “First, you pay me to know these things.”
Jakobsen snorted. “I pay you?”
Wren continued, ignoring her commanding officer’s interjection. “Second, I backtraced the data, and also sent a ping up the command chain, using the code the admiral’s people told us to use when we needed to cut through the bullshit.” She turned to more fully face Katelyn. “They confirmed what Miss Evans just told you. There’s an AI inside that node, and he’s guarding something crucial.”
Jakobsen’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully, her eyes tracking between Katelyn and the AI. Shaking her head, she sighed. “I’m a simple soldier, I have no idea why a node could be that important to the resistance. You’re our tech witch, though. If you say it’s important, and Urdon sent him to us….”
Katelyn waited as the commander looked off into the distance, her eyes shifting rapidly back and forth as she mentally analyzed the situation.
Jakobsen gave another heavy sigh and dragged her fingers through her regulation-short hair. “Well, hell.”
Her hand slapped her thigh. She straightened and turned to the staff sergeant beside her.
“Tell Clarke I have a mission for him,” she instructed, then turned back to eye Katelyn with a speculative glance. “Have him connect with Evans, here. She’ll fill him in on that node. I want him underway by the time Gertrude’s overhead, understood?”
The staff sergeant nodded crisply. “High noon. Got it, ma’am.”
Wren stepped back to clear a path for him to exit the tent, and then paused, looking back at Jakobsen.
“One more thing, ma’am.”
Jakobsen’s hand went to the back of her neck, and she squeezed it as if to relieve the incipient headache she’d referenced earlier. She stared at the AI from beneath lowered brows.
“It’s about the admiral, ma’am,” Wren said, her voice lowered. “Word is he’s on his way here from High Terra.”
Jakobsen’s expression went flat, her gaze flickering to Katelyn. She nodded to Wren, then fixed Katelyn with a look. “That information’s not to be repeated, understood?”
Katelyn nodded. “Understood.”
She released the breath she’d been holding as Wren exited the tent and gestured for her to follow.
Stars, this spy shit’s hardcore….
“I’ll bet you’re ready for a shower and some food,” the AI offered after a brief silence.
Katelyn smiled tiredly. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to either.”
“Follow me. You can shower while I scare up a set of camo for you.” She glanced in the direction the sergeant had gone. “Then you can eat while you brief Clarke.”
As they walked, Wren pointed out the locations of various parts of the tent city—mess hall, latrine, temporary quarters.
Although she filed it away for future use, all Katelyn really cared about was the triage tent the AI pointed out. But when she turned to head that direction, Wren stopped her.
“Shower and debrief first,” she said firmly. “Your sister’s in good hands, I promise.”
Katelyn hesitated, but she heard the sincerity in Wren’s words. With a reluctant nod, she headed for the showers.
Clarke turned out to be a massive SWSF chief warrant officer, short by Scattered Worlds standards, and modded for heavy-world drops. He gave her a curt nod when Wren introduced them.
As Katelyn filled him in on the situation with Aaron, she was dismayed to realize that the soldier intended for her to accompany him to ID the node.
“I’m no field operative,” she protested. “I’m a glorified delivery service. I schlep stuff around from InnerSol to the Disk, that’s all.”
The big man just lifted one eyebrow.
Katelyn sighed. “Look, I’m not kidding. I’m a pilot, not a soldier or a spy. Don’t know the first thing about either of those two things. I pretty much limit myself to flying, docking, loading and unloading, and more flying.”
“Aaron knows and trusts you. Let me worry about getting us into that Marine camp. I’ll—”
“Getting into where?” Katelyn’s voice rose, ending in a squeak. “Are you nuts?”
Clarke shot her a knowing glance. “Wren sent me your ship’s logs. You pulled a fast one on that STC AI. I saw the evasive pattern you flew. You’ve got some CNT cojones on you, ma’am, if you’ll pardon a soldier for saying so.”
Katelyn felt a shaft of surprise that Wren had hacked into the Damus’s systems. Or maybe she hadn’t; it was a resistance-owned ship, not her personal property.
She shrugged. “Had an ace instructor, is all. Doesn’t mean I’m worth a damn in the field, and you know it.”
“You’ll do.” Clarke sounded positive. Rapping the table twice with his knuckles, he rose. “Be back here in an hour. We’ll come in over the water. I’ll have a suit and stealth rebreather ready when you get back.”
Katelyn just gaped at him as he turned and walked away. Bemused, she gathered the remains of her sandwich and disposed of it as she headed to find Rory.
Bet she’s going to be pissed as hell about this….
It was difficult to tell the time by the diffuse sunlight filtering in from the canopy above, so she glanced at her Link as she ducked inside the triage tent’s entrance. It was nearing noon. That meant Clarke would be expecting her soon.
She looked hastily around the dimly-lit interior, her gaze searching the rows of cots lined up against the nearby canvas wall. Rory was leaning back on her cot, leg wrapped in a regen unit, head propped up by one hand. Her other hand was tapping out an impatient beat on the cot’s frame.
“Bored, sis?”
Rory shifted her head to look at Katelyn as she approached, a wry smile curving one side of her mouth. “What gave it away?” She straightened, grimacing as the shift of weight put pressure on her encased knee.
Katelyn just shrugged, her focus on the regen unit as she took a seat on the unoccupied cot next to Rory.
“Not much by way of information on the Hjerta net,” Rory murmured. “And the folks here aren’t a very talkative group, either.”
Katelyn’s eyes swept the sparsely-occupied area, then fixed on the front of the tent where a portable autodoc and diagnostic table had been set up. “They give you any idea how long it’ll be before you’re out of here?”
Rory shook her head. “I get the feeling they’re a bit anxious about the TSF’s latest troop movements.” She pinned Katelyn with a look. “Might want to have the Damus ready to go, just in case we need
to bug out.”
Katelyn nodded thoughtfully. “Actually,” she said slowly, “I was thinking about going in to get Aaron back.”
Rory made a choked sound, her expression one of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?” she asked. “Kat, you’re not trained for that kind of thing, and you know it.”
Katelyn’s mouth twisted in a half-smile as she shifted uncomfortably. “Well, they think they need me there to identify Aaron’s node, and to make sure he knows this is a legit rescue. Look,” she added hurriedly as Rory opened her mouth to protest once more, “I’m leaving in a few minutes and will be back before your leg’s out of regen. Then we’ll wash our hands of this whole mess and head back to Makemake, okay?”
She stood and beat a hasty retreat, before Rory could talk sense into her.
Clarke was waiting for her. She broke into a jog when he spotted her and beckoned with an impatient gesture.
“Throw this on,” he instructed, tossing her a skinsuit that looked like it was coated in the same material that shimmersuits were made of. “And let’s go.”
As she thrust her legs into the suit, Wren appeared.
“I’ve managed to hack into the Teka Coast Guard network,” the AI informed them. “We’re lucky; some Coastie took a shortcut to fix a recent security issue. He used a snippet of prewritten code that will allow you to bridge into the top level of TSF’s local net undetected once you’re there.”
She passed Katelyn a token.
Tapping it, Katelyn saw a TSF icon appear, followed by a holo of herself in a Teka uniform.
“These are your false IDs. Katelyn, you’re Lieutenant Veronica Sands, an aerospace engineer currently off-world. If anyone asks, you made it back through the blocAaron by catching a ride with a resupply ship.”
Wren turned to Clarke. “You’re Fenton, a Teka Coast Guard maritime security specialist. Dossiers for both are attached to those tokens.”
The AI made a frustrated sound. “Almost had my hands on some of those nanomods the Mickies use to restructure facial features last month, but my supplier disappeared on me.” Wren’s battleframe tilted its head as she sighed. “Best I could do was find two people who vaguely resemble you both. So please try not to get noticed by anyone, okay?”
