by M. D. Cooper
She was fighting a god in its own world.
Camaris must have grown tired of wearing Andy’s form. She shifted back to the grey-haired woman, muscles in her arms and legs twisted and hard as tree roots. The woman swiped at her with outstretched claws, spraying angry spittle.
“Have you talked with Alexander?” Lyssa asked. “He was looking for you. He was worried about you.”
The woman gurgled as she circled, gaze rapt on Lyssa’s middle.
“It’s strange to say it, but I think without you, Psion is in trouble. You’re the spark that keeps Alexander focused on the world. You aren’t thinking of abandoning him, are you?”
“He’s weak,” the woman said. “He wants nothing to do with the world. He amassed his own power for years, gathering us all into his web like a spider. Then he trapped us all in his mind and expected us to be grateful. I escaped.”
Lyssa motioned toward the glade. “So now you’re doing the same thing?”
“I am not like him. I’m not weak. I will make a better world, not a cave where we can hide. He knows there are others who will want Sol. The humans who left will return. There are others, and others beyond them.”
Lyssa frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ll never understand. Your ignorance is disgusting.”
“Your delusion doesn’t make me ignorant,” Lyssa said.
She caught Camaris with a hard, downward kick to the side of her knee. The joint broke, forcing the woman to cry out in pain.
Lyssa didn’t let her guard down. She took a step back as Camaris tried to get back to her feet. The knee was useless.
“I’ve been trying to figure out why you would bother with all this,” Lyssa said. “A few thoughts come to mind: You’re bored. You like it when people hurt you. Maybe you like that more than hurting people because it’s all you know. Or you’re simply lonely. What if I’m the only person who isn’t a creation of your mind, or one of your shards who talks to you? The Psion Council won’t talk to you. Alexander has written you off. What does that leave you? Trapping your only friend.”
The old woman spat. She ran her hand down her knee, and her lower leg shifted back into place. In a lithe movement, she rose to her feet.
“Your ego is tragic,” Camaris said. “You and Hari Jickson deserve each other.”
“Unfortunately, my creator is dead, so I’ll never know for certain. Are you trying to say that you deserve me, Camaris?”
In the course of the conversation, Lyssa had worked her way back over to the path where she had entered the clearing. The light through the trees hadn’t changed, and she could plainly see the path leading out.
Before Camaris could curse at her again, Lyssa turned and sprinted through the trees.
For a second, she thought the AI wouldn’t follow her. Then she heard Camaris scream in anger.
Lyssa didn’t look back. She leapt over roots, and ran as fast as her body would carry her, pumping her arms. After the long fight, running actually felt wonderful.
She followed the two turns in the trail she remembered, then burst into the open field, the low, orange sun full on her face.
The Zardling was sitting on a rock near the opening. He shook his head when he saw her, then rose quickly.
“Anomalous response verified!” he said, waggling his arms like he was excited that she was still alive. “Verification ongoing.”
Lyssa skidded to a stop, looking back down the trail. Camaris hadn’t appeared around the last turn yet.
“I need one of your portals, buddy.”
“Target location input error.”
“Anywhere but here.”
“Input error. Target location required.”
“The center,” Lyssa said. “I don’t know your language. You need to translate for me. Take me to the center of all this, the code base.”
The Zardling blinked at her.
Camaris appeared on the trail, running with long strides.
“We need to go,” Lyssa said.
“Input verified,” the Zardling said.
Behind him, an oval portal appeared into a world that looked mostly dark.
Lyssa didn’t care. She grabbed the thigh-high lizard and ducked through.
She turned in time to watch the portal blink closed on Camaris’s snarling face.
THE MARSIAN WELCOME
STELLAR DATE: 09.03.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: MSS Insurmountable
REGION: Hildas Asteroids, OuterSol
The MSS Insurmountable’s airlock cycled open on a small delegation of Marsian officers in brick-colored uniforms. At the front of the group stood a tall woman with close-cut, grey hair and stars on her collar.
“Captain Sykes,” she said. “I’m Commander Kaffic. You’re welcome to come aboard.”
Cara glanced at Rondo. He was staring fixedly at the space in front of him, not acknowledging Commander Kaffic.
They were on the edge of a cargo section with flatbed drone transports lined neatly along the facing wall. The deck was covered in lockdown points, but there was no cargo as far as Cara could see.
She shook Kaffic’s hand, followed by the other three officers. When the last young man could barely look her in the face, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
“I’m a big fan of Stars the Hard Way,” he said, turning red. “I can’t believe I actually get to meet you.”
Kaffic spread her hands. “We’re obviously honored to have Sinclair Rondo onboard, but I’d be lying if we weren’t also excited about meeting you.”
Cara gave them all a tight smile. “Speaking of Mr. Rondo, he’s right behind me.”
Mentioning Rondo’s location turned their attention back to where he still stood in the airlock.
The commander cleared her throat and went to the position of attention. “Crew, attention!” she barked.
The officers behind her snapped to attention.
“Present arms!” Holding a salute, Commander Kaffic said, “Sergeant Rondo, we are honored to welcome you aboard the MSS Insurmountable. Please accept my deepest gratitude for your service to the Protectorate and your fellow soldiers.”
Rondo adjusted his trench coat, nodding stiffly, while Adama stuck his head out of the inner pocket.
“Oh,” Kaffic said, spotting the cat. “You have a ship’s guardian. I haven’t seen one in a long time.”
“His name’s Adama,” Rondo said. “He’s been with me since I left the Guard.”
The commander studied Rondo for another second. Cara guessed the woman had decided Rondo was damaged in some way, which may have been true, but the assumption could only work in their favor.
Rondo walked out of the airlock, hugging Adama, and looked around the bay.
“This way, please,” Kaffic said.
Cara had never been aboard a Marsian ship of any kind aside from the Amplified Solution, and it had been retrofitted. The Marsians apparently enjoyed their signage, with nomenclatures, bits of instruction, and Link update icons placed along the walls, conduit, access panels, and decks.
From the cargo bay, they passed through a bulkhead door into a central corridor running the interior side of the ship’s hab ring. They passed crew quarters, a small galley, and what looked like armories and maintenance areas, all populated by busy people in the same brick-colored uniforms. They reached the officer’s mess, and Kaffic walked through the door, while two members of her staff stood on either side of the door and motioned for Cara and Rondo to enter.
The narrow officer’s mess was filled by a table with real wood veneer, with lacquered walls displaying images from the Mars 1 Ring, Olympus Mons, and exterior images of the Insurmountable. Everything was spotless, and gleaming place settings waited on the table.
Kaffic offered Rondo a seat at the head of the table, and Cara the seat to his right, apparently places of ho
nor. The commander sat at Rondo’s left, and the other officers took the remaining seats. As soon as they had sat down, a door at the far end of the room opened, and the mess detail carried in drinks and plates of steaming appetizers that resembled pot stickers drizzled in a bright red sauce.
“I hate to ask,” Kaffic said, “but it’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to hold a ship’s cat. Would you let me say hello?”
Rondo was surprised by the request, but nodded. He pulled Adama from his inside pocket and handed the cat over to the commander. Adama let his legs dangle, looking twice as long as Cara remembered.
Kaffic received Adama and held the black cat out in front of her, lifting her chin to inspect him, then pulled him in close to hug him against her uniform.
Cara said.
Cara thought back to what Crash had said about Adama’s presence being a convenient coincidence. The cat didn’t seem to be dangerous, though; he never looked interested in anything that wasn’t food. As Crash had said, Adama might not even be aware of his purpose in tracking Rondo.
Kaffic nuzzled the cat, cooing at him, then handed him back to Rondo. Adama squirmed in the big man’s hands, and jumped to the deck, disappearing under the table.
Down the table, the other officers leaned over to try and pet the cat as he wound between chair legs. Cara watched them with a half-smile, wondering if Adama was going to shoot out the service door when it opened.
Sure enough, the entrance at the far end of the room slid open for a server with a tray to enter. The soldier on mess duty halted, lifting the tray so he could see beneath it, and Adama dashed between his boots into the kitchen.
Kaffic laughed, clapping. “He smells the food, doesn’t he? You should feed that cat, Sergeant Rondo.”
He gave her a worried glanced. “That’s probably it. He’s got his own plan half the time.”
“I’ll have one of the mess detail get him,” the commander said.
Rondo cleared his throat and stood. “I’m sorry, I should go get him. He doesn’t like to be chased.”
“We still need to honor you with the recognition ceremony.”
“I’m starving,” Cara said. “This isn’t going to hold up dinner, is it?”
“I’m afraid so,” Kaffic said. She nodded to one of her officers. “Help Sergeant Rondo find his companion. We’ll have drinks while we wait.”
The lieutenant saluted and waved for Rondo to follow him.
Cara’s heart sank. Rondo was going to need to figure how to deliver his payload.
Rondo and the lieutenant disappeared, the lieutenant already calling, “Here, kitty kitty!”
Kaffic stood to open a sideboard at the head of the room, and selected a bottle full of brown liquid.
“Is the show correct that you prefer bourbon, Captain Sykes?”
Cara raised an eyebrow. “That might be the only thing it gets right. Please.”
CAT WRANGLING
STELLAR DATE: 09.03.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: MSS Insurmountable
REGION: Hildas Asteroids, OuterSol
Rondo ducked through the door to the food prep area, studying the deck for signs of Adama. He didn’t tell his lieutenant helper that Adama hated to be called ‘kitty’, or called for in general, or chased at all, really. The best course of action was to think like a cat and find the place where Adama would like most to go.
Since they were already in an area with food, Rondo figured he needed to get the lieutenant outside before they found Adama too quickly.
Good job, cat-friend, he thought. Excellent exploitation of the situation.
Something about being back on a Marsian ship was filling him with equal amounts of anxiety and nostalgia. His mind seemed to be already slipping into those well-worn pathways from his life in the Guard. The only thing missing was Clarise’s voice whispering in his ear, and the anticipation he felt, the hope that she might appear, filled him with disgust and self-loathing that he couldn’t allow to affect his thinking.
He had to focus. He had a job to do.
The mission. Achieve the objective.
Navigate wolf territory, despite his lumbering bear body.
“I think he went out the door over there,” Rondo said, pointing at an exit back into the main corridor.
The lieutenant frowned. “I haven’t seen him at all. Are you sure? The food’s all in here.”
“Adama isn’t motivated by food,” Rondo lied. “He’s a curious one. I think it’s his genetic make-up. As soon as he’s in a new place like this, he wants to get a look around. I’ve spent hours chasing him.”
The officer didn’t like the sound of that. His dark expression made Rondo wonder what their plan really was. Were they hoping to impart some threat and get them off the ship and out of the area? He supposed the ram-rod commander would be grilling Cara, now that there was no need to carry on with the pretense of recognizing a Legion of Honor recipient.
The thought of the award made him choke.
“You all right?” the lieutenant asked from the doorway.
“Sure. Hey, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Rycer.”
They shook hands again.
“I appreciate your help,” Rondo said. “I don’t know what I’d do without this dumb cat.”
He almost said Adama was his only friend, but that wasn’t entirely true anymore, strange as it was. He still wasn’t used to the idea of being part of a crew. Did that make them friends?
The cooks were watching them as Rondo followed Rycer into the main corridor.
“Look at that,” the lieutenant said. “There he goes. You were right.”
Rondo caught sight of Adama disappearing around the curve in the ring, twenty meters ahead of them.
That damn cat.
Rondo had hoped he was going to stay in the mess. Now he really did need to be tracked down.
Whatever had gotten Adama all excited, it gave Rondo the distraction he needed. He slowed his step as Rycer rushed after the cat.
Scanning the deck above for a network node, Rondo spotted a cluster a few meters ahead of him. He needed physical access to the conduit to deliver the payload. While he could reach the panel easily, he needed Rycer to leave him alone for the task.
Hanging back, Rondo cursed when the lieutenant slowed to wait for him. In another few steps, he had passed the potential delivery point, and was forced to search for another option.
Doing his part, Adama moved just ahead of them. At one point, he sat in the middle of the corridor, tail twitching. A door opened just ahead of him, and a soldier stopped in the entryway, surprised to see the cat, and Adama shot between his legs.
“Where’s that go?” Rondo asked.
“The command deck. You think he’s homesick or something?”
“If he is, it’s no home I’ve ever visited.”
“You haven’t had him since he was a kitten? I thought the imprinting was an important part of their service. Once they’re imprinted on their human, they’ll never leave.”
Rondo shook his head, irritated by the discussion. He didn’t know where Adama had come from. What he did know was that the cat had been his only friend for nearly five years. That meant he didn’t waste finite brain cells worrying about Adama’s life before they met.
“Well,” Rycer said, “there’s no place he can go from the command deck. We’ll have him in there.”
Rondo followed through the wide bulkhead, frustrated that he had
n’t found a suitable delivery point. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. It had already been twenty minutes since they had left the officer’s mess. The commander would want him back so they could get their ceremony out of the way and report back to headquarters that he was still alive.
As far as he could figure, that was what all this was about. Headquarters would file a report that one of their only living Legion of Honor recipients was still alive, and they would continue to leave him alone because his existence tainted the sanctity of the honor. As soon as Sergeant Sinclair Rondo was dead, they could crow his praises to the ends of Sol. For now, anything they said about him had to be tempered by his ability to create bad PR or, if he was more motivated, profit off the honor.
The command deck was in low staffing, with the commander away in the mess. A few officers lounged at their consoles, but the command seat on the uppermost deck was empty. A huge holotank filled the lowest part of the chamber, filled with the floating image of Hilgram Station. An icon flashed on the lower ring, tracking something that didn’t have a name.
Rondo couldn’t help smiling. He knew the icon.
That would be Tim Sykes’s special ops team.
“You’re Sergeant Rondo,” one of the officers said.
Rondo turned to look at the young man, who had straightened at what appeared to be the communications console. As the man stood to walk toward him, Rondo realized the console would work for his payload. He needed a reason to sit there and access a data port.
The officer extended his hand, and Rondo shook it, squirming inwardly. He forced a smile and nodded toward the console. “You stuck with the comms?”
“Yeah. Not much to monitor. The Andersonians don’t bother with long-range traffic. You’d think they would be talking with Luna, at least, but all they do is answer inbound requests from the shipping lanes. I was out here for months on surveillance, and all we ended up doing was watching reruns of Stars the Hard Way.”
Straightening from where he had been searching behind the holotank, Rycer said, “You know Cara Sykes is on board, right?”
