by T J Mott
“Captain Abano said to make sure this isn’t tracked back to Marcell’s group. People like Nic were looking for conspiracies. So why not give them one?”
Fletcher laughed again. “I’m really glad you’re on my side.”
Something beeped again. “That’s the ten-second warning!” she exclaimed. The two turned their attention to the window and searched for the city below. And then they saw it, a sudden pinprick of brilliant white light outside the city, tiny, but more than bright enough to be visible from low orbit. “Wow!”
“Mission accomplished, babe.”
“Uh oh…” Nic’s voice mumbled through the comm system. “Fletcher? Something went wrong! Boss? Fletcher, Iva, can you hear me? That was a huge explosion! They had live antimatter weapons in there and we just set them off! Oh no…how many people did I just kill? Oh…no…no, no, no!”
“Just a security guard or two, maybe the gang kids if they didn’t get clear,” Fletch answered to the muted comm. “It was only point-two grams. The blast won’t even have left the campus. But I bet it broke windows for a dozen klicks!”
“If they actually stored live antimatter weapons there,” Iva pointed out to nobody in particular, “the city would be gone. And us, too, at an orbit this low.”
“Fletcher!” continued Nic. “Please respond!”
“It’s no good, Nic!” answered one of the Angel hackers hysterically. “We just drove by their house on the way home! Boss Man’s house is on fire! I repeat, Boss Man’s house is burning to the ground!”
“What!?” Nic sounded even more panicked, on the edge of hysteria, and Fletch hoped the man didn’t suddenly die of a heart attack. He was always so nervous. “How?”
Iva pulled away from Fletch and walked back to the copilot console. Fletch watched her carefully as she moved. “You know, there’s one thing I’m really going to miss about Calco,” he said.
“What’s that?”
He looked her up and down as she stood over the console. “I really like what the high gravity has done to your butt and legs.”
She powered down the comm console completely. Then, giving him a mischievous smile, she tapped the hyperdrive controls and sent their yacht into hyperspace.
Chapter 15
Lieutenant Commander Poulsen quietly stepped into Commodore Cooper’s office. Once again, some of the Organization’s senior officers were present, and once again they were riffing each other over some stupid prank one of them had fallen victim to. How do they ever get any work done? she wondered. Do they really waste all their time on stupid pranks and nonsense when Marcell is away? Then she remembered the Admiral’s poor temperament the last time she’d seen him, on board the Caracal before its destruction. Or maybe Marcell is just too much of a drunkard to care anymore.
As she stopped a few paces inside the office, she suddenly noticed Abano sitting in one of the chairs by Cooper’s desk. Rather, she noticed his uniform. It was the same material and cut as Gray Fleet’s standard uniform, similar to the off-the-shelf utilitarian cargo pants and jacket that most of Blue Fleet wore. But instead of being a medium gray, his uniform was pink. Bright pink. Actually, several shades of pink, mottled in some kind of camouflage pattern. And it almost seemed fluorescent. “Having problems with the laundry service?” she asked.
“Uh, something like that,” Abano replied sheepishly. His face flushed.
“So how are things with Ghost Squadron?” asked Commodore Reynolds. She frowned slightly. Hadn’t he been reading her reports?
“I have my men working for the construction crews,” she answered. “I estimated we could shave six weeks off the facility’s build schedule that way, so we can get to the fun stuff sooner. So we’re actually almost done already.” At first, quite a few of her men had quietly grumbled at their assignments. They’d signed up to fight in a mercenary gunship squadron, not to hang power conduits and lay carpeting. But she knew it was helping to instill a sense of humility in some of them.
Reynolds nodded in approval. “Just be cautious with that kind of attitude, Poulsen. I know you’re eager, but don’t make a habit of careless hastiness.”
“Noted. I’m actually here to see Commodore Cooper.” She fished out a datachip from her breast pocket and dropped it lightly onto Cooper’s desk. She could have left it on the Headquarters network somewhere and simply given him the file path, but it was full of data she wasn’t really supposed to have access to. Leaving it off the network had given her enough deniability to avoid detection while compiling its contents—that is, right up until she dropped it onto the desk of the Organization’s chief spymaster.
He frowned and carefully picked it up between thumb and forefinger, and then made a show of examining it as if he thought it might explode. “If one of these guys put you up to this, and this is a virus or a firecracker or—”
“It’s not a prank,” she interrupted sternly, feeling hurt that anyone thought she could stoop to their level. A moment later she frowned as his words finally registered in her brain. Wait, he thinks it might be a firecracker…?
He eyed her suspiciously. “Okay, what do we have here?” He slotted the datachip into a reader on the edge of his desk and navigated through its files on the table’s touchscreen surface. A moment later, a three-dimensional schematic of a modified Mark V Lancer gunship popped into existence above the surface. Beside the hologram floated a number of text annotations and a table of modifications.
She watched his eyes flick back and forth across the model. Its thrusters were heavily downsized compared to the stock model, and also moved a bit outward from the ship’s centerline. They were adapted from the older Mark III models, shorter and much smaller in diameter, making space for the bulging cryogenic tanks that now filled the areas between the thrusters, reactor, and hyperdrive.
“What is this?” asked Cooper coldly, his expression suddenly looking concerned. He pulled up another file and was presented with a detailed list of parts and equipment, a proposed schedule for making the modifications, a personnel list to do the work, and his jaw actually dropped in shock as he realized what he was looking at. “How the hell did you get all…” He shook his head and then turned to Commodore Reynolds with his jaw still slack. “She hacked into Gray Fleet files. I told you she was a loose cannon.”
Reynolds looked unconcerned by the apparent security breach and shrugged. “Care to explain, Poulsen?” he asked her mildly.
“She wants an X-11 hyperdrive on her new gunships,” Cooper answered gruffly, sounding annoyed and maybe even a little angry. “But how did you get the schematics for them? Or the parts list, or the expertise to modify your ship blueprints like this? This is well done.” He frowned as he studied the parts list. “I—these part numbers…they match the new hyperdrive components we’re building here at Headquarters! How did you get this stuff?”
“It’s amazing the kind of things you can get access to, just for having a pretty face,” she said matter-of-factly. Actually, my new clearance level let me find some of it on my own, at least a few details on the edges of the project that were carelessly stored. But the rest was filled in by your own engineers.
Cooper blinked, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to take her seriously or not. “Sorry, but you’d have to know how to smile for that to actually work.”
“Sometimes I follow up with threats of violence.” She folded her arms across her chest and widened her stance slightly. “Most men don’t want to get beaten by a woman. I guess it embarrasses them.” At 190 centimeters tall and a tad over 80 kilograms in mass, with lean muscle and in excellent fitness, Poulsen could be very intimidating. She had once been the champion in an annual Hyberian Raider kickboxing tournament, too, back before she was even full-grown.
Cooper looked over at Reynolds with a touch of worry in his eyes. “Did she grow a sense of humor?” Reynolds didn’t respond, instead he shrugged and continued to smile slightly. “Marcell has a conscience now, and Poulsen has discovered humor. What’s next in this crazy
galaxy?”
“Hopefully, the next crazy thing is people quit replacing everything in my wardrobe when I’m away,” Abano said loudly, rubbing at one of his shoulders to smooth a wrinkle in his pink jacket.
She remained deadpan and steered the conversation back to business. “I don’t want it on all my gunships,” she said, referring to the hyperdrive. “Just my command ship, and maybe one other. I know you’re looking for test platforms, and you need small ships because the design hasn’t been scaled up yet. My Lancers are a perfect match.”
“She has a point,” Reynolds said. “You’re already planning to test it on some courier ships, why not some small warships, too? Her ships are a similar size. And Marcell always wants faster ships in Blue Fleet, so this could appease him, too.”
“It would take months to adapt the design to her ship!” Cooper scoffed. “I don’t want to delay the program by switching out our test platforms. And the design needs more testing and fine-tuning before we can deploy it outside the few Gray Fleet ships that we’re already working on.”
Poulsen pointed a finger at the holo. “All the gruntwork is taken care of, Commodore. Everything you need to know is on that datachip. Have your engineers verify it if you want.” She suppressed a smile, inwardly pleased with herself for the way she was toying with him. She already knew it would pass scrutiny by his engineers. After all, they were the ones who had done the design work for her.
“You’re proving even more resourceful than I imagined,” said Reynolds. “Cooper, I think you should give her a chance.”
“Of course you do!” Cooper spat back, with just enough humor in his tone to show that he wasn’t actually as mad as he was pretending to be. “Ghost Squadron is your experiment, and you’re already tossing tons of Blue Fleet resources at her. Why not tie up some of Gray Fleet while you’re at it?”
“She did ask nicely. I think that was her pretty face routine. If you say no, I suspect she’ll follow up with threats of violence. And I’ll be powerless to stop her. She’s far stronger than I, and I’m nearly triple her age.”
“If she threatens me, I’ll have to file a complaint with Marcell when he returns. Something about a lack of discipline and professionalism among Blue Fleet’s officers.”
Abano shot to his feet and glared at Cooper in mock anger. “Do you see what I’m currently forced to wear, as a Gray Fleet officer?” he protested, gesturing at his own ridiculous uniform. “Boss, you’ve got no right to complain about another fleet’s discipine!”
Reynolds chuckled. “Your second-in-command has a point. Right now, I think he’d enjoy watching her beat you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I only said threats of violence, not actual acts of violence,” she clarified.
Cooper snorted. “You’ve got much to learn about officer politics, young one. You’re not supposed to tell when you’re bluffing.” He sighed. “Very well. My men will look at this design, and if it seems sound, my people will talk to your people and we’ll see what we can do.”
Poulsen allowed herself to smile openly for once. “Thank you, Commodore.” She turned and started to leave the office. On a whim, she paused by the door and flicked the lights off. She looked over her shoulder. Yes, Senior Captain Abano’s mottled pink uniform was, in fact, slightly glowing in the dark. She smirked, turned the lights back on, and left.
Chapter 16
Thad looked over and smiled at the diminutive red-headed woman who walked beside him with her hand in his. On the other side of her, holding her other hand, walked her young son Rin, who almost looked like a miniature version of her with his pale skin and mop of red hair.
He still didn’t really understand why he’d come to Ailon. His thoughts and emotions after the auction at Cadria Minor had been so strong and so conflicted, all he’d understood was that he had to get away for a while. Away from his Organization, away from his merc contracts and his search from Earth…away from Adelia. Ailon was hardly a vacation world, but right now, as he studied Ria’s face in profile, it all seemed worth it. Warning bells still rang in the back of his mind, telling him that he should not get involved with her, but those warning bells were slowly fading away. She seemed so happy when he was around her. Even Rin had made a comment about it, right in front of the entire clinic assembly, much to Ria’s embarrassment.
They turned a corner in the ARF headquarters as they walked towards the main lobby. They’d just eaten together in the cafeteria. It was now early afternoon, and Ria was about to re-deploy her clinic on the outskirts of the city. Meanwhile, he was about to break away to meet with rebel leaders—fortunately not the Council itself, just some of the people under them—to continue planning. He had to examine their personnel and resources and skillsets and find a way to organize them into something that resembled an army.
He stopped and frowned a few steps later. “What’s that noise?”
“I don’t hear anything!” said Rin.
“Shh!” Ria hushed.
The three of them stood in the middle of the hallway. A few meters ahead and to the left was a door into one of the building’s garages. Thad let go of Ria’s hand and stepped up to the door. The noise became louder as he drew closer.
He pushed the door open and looked in. The noise became very loud as the door swung open, and clearly resolved into a truck engine running flat-out at full throttle—or beyond. Then he saw a row of Foundation box trucks, four of them, parked within. One of them was billowing thick, black smoke from its exhaust pipe. Several people in orange ARF jackets scurried about, a couple of them racing around the garage and opening all the doors to the outside. The air smelled strongly of smoke and oil and hot metal.
“Rin, wait in the hall,” Ria ordered.
“But Mom!” he protested.
“I said wait in the hall!” Rin reluctantly complied.
Thad took a few steps into the garage, wondering how he could help. “What happened?” he shouted.
“Engine runaway,” a grease-covered mechanic shouted back as he trotted up. “Nothing we can do but let it burn out.”
Ria frowned as the man came to a stop in front of them. “Runaway?”
The mechanic shook his head in disappointment. “Something went wrong with the fuel controller. It overrevs and eventually siezes and quits.”
The engine note became louder and higher, and its smoke output increased further. It sounded like a top-fuel race car barreling down the strip at hundreds of kilometers per hour, not like a work truck parked in a garage. Then the engine note decreased in pitch, and it began to sound bogged down. Its smoke output increased, stinging Thad’s nostrils despite the breeze which blew in through the open garage doors.
“I think it’s almost done,” the mechanic said. Its pitch dropped again, and it began to sound horribly bogged down and strained. The smoke continued. Something made a violent clattering sound, and then its pitch smoothly dropped down and the engine came to a stop. “Well, that’s it!” he shouted into the garage. “It’s done for. Let it cool off, and get it out of here.” Gesturing in frustration, he waved his hands as if shoving the truck out of the garage. He turned back to Thad and Ria. “Something I can help you with, Mrs. Parri?”
She shook her head. “No, we just heard that noise from the hallway and stepped in.”
“Ah. Yeah, another runaway engine. Fourth one so far.”
Thad frowned. “This is common?”
The mechanic shrugged. “It shouldn’t be. But it’s the engine in these newer trucks, must be something wrong with them. We bought twenty of them last year, and now four have done this. I heard the Army’s had a few go up like this, too. One even caught fire.”
“The Avennian Army has the same trucks as the Foundation?” Thad asked.
The mechanic nodded. “Yeah. A few get shipped in from offworld. But otherwise there’s only one truck factory on the whole planet, so we all get the same thing, mostly.”
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. “Interesting,” he said. He looked down
at Ria. “Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do here.”
For now, anyway. One truck factory for the entire planet. There could be something to that. I just don’t know what, yet.
***
Ria poked her head into the building’s second cafeteria. She glanced around at the few occupants inside and frowned. No, Chad wasn’t here, either.
“You look lost,” called out Chet from one end of the room as he finished topping off a beverage from the cafeteria dispensers.
“Have you seen Chad?” she asked. “I wanted to see him again before we leave HQ.”
“Oh. Yeah, I think he and Jason are over in the garages. Trying to fix the trucks or something.”
“Fix the trucks?” she said. Then she smiled tightly. “Is there anything he doesn’t know how to do?”
Chet walked up to her, a hot cup of caf in his hand. “I’ll walk you there,” he said as the two stepped back into the hallways. “Yeah, he’s full of surprises. Seems to know a little bit about everything.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“You really like him, don’t you?” Chet said softly as they continued through the building, almost as if he’d heard her heart flutter within her chest a few seconds ago.
She felt her face flush slightly. “He’s a good guy. And sometimes he reminds me of Lim. He knows how to make me smile. I’ve been so busy with the Foundation since the war, I hadn’t realized how alone I was. Then he came along. And it’s like he brightens up everything around me. I feel things I haven’t felt in years.”
“He seems pretty distant, though.”
She nodded soberly. “Yeah. I can’t quite figure him out. He admitted he was a mercenary. I definitely think he was an officer, and probably even a high-ranking one, but I can’t get him to talk about it. I think he was on the wrong side of a war somewhere, got hurt, and came out a different person.”
