by Joshua James
Instead, she saw Francesca lying down by herself, looking bored. She must be watching something on her HUD feed, Morgan thought, since she didn’t even seemed to notice her presence.
Morgan resisted the urge to disturb the teen. She needed a few moments away from all this. They all did.
Morgan closed the door and racked her brain as to where Ben could be. There weren’t that many places; it wasn’t a large ship.
She did a quick scan of the other two quarters and came up empty. He certainly wasn’t in the cockpit or the shared space. That only really left one option.
Morgan made her way into the fold jump engines carefully. She knew the ship well, better than anyone, but even she would prefer not to mess with too much back here.
She made her way through the main assembly and to the small tinker room, as Morgan called it. It was barely bigger than a closet, but it allowed access to the rear section of the jump engines.
Historically, on raider-class gunships like the Lost, this room was used to store things you didn’t want others to be able to scan for, since it was within the engine’s energy halo. Say illicit goods, or a prisoner. Morgan wasn’t above using it that way herself.
On the Lost, there was nothing so exciting. Just a couple plastic of crates full of rations and water, and Ace’s personal supply of homemade hooch, which could strip paint off an engine. In the back of the tinker room was a loading ramp fold-out that lead into the main bay. Morgan could just make out a small light below it.
Maybe it was the spy in her, or simple curiosity, but Morgan wanted to know what Ben was doing without him knowing she was there. She knelt down and quietly approached the opening in the floor. The closer she got, the more uncomfortable she felt. What had she thought Ben was doing here? Was she maybe hoping to find out that he, too, was secretly in contact with someone? A spy like her? Did she think she’d find him engaged in some secret, deeply disturbing conversation?
What she heard was deeply disturbing, but for all the wrong reasons.
Ben was crying.
He was sitting at the bottom of the small space, holding a tiny holo-image projector in the palms of his hands. Whatever he was looking at was blocked by the back of his head, but she could tell from the movement of his shoulders that he was struggling to hold the image up as he stared at it. She suspected he’d prefer to bury his head in those hands, but he kept holding whatever image he was looking at.
Morgan felt like shit. From the moment that Ada had told him his father was dead, Ben had seemed different. He was on edge, the opposite of emotional. He was almost robotic. He was correct about the girl who’d been a Shapeless, but that didn’t justify the over-the-top way he’d handled it. He’d clearly been hurting and holding it all in.
The fact was, Morgan had known Ben’s father was dead from the moment they’d laid eyes on the shattered pieces of the Atlas. She’d assumed that Ben had known that, too. Logically, maybe he did, but he was clearly still holding out hope, and now that hope was gone. No one could hold that emotion in forever.
Morgan quietly got up to her feet, walked back through the tinker room and into the engine room proper. Then she called out to him.
“Hey, Ben! You in here?” Morgan waited a few seconds, then loudly and obviously made her way into the tinker room.
“In here!” Ben yelled out. His voice was slightly hoarse, though she doubted she would have noticed if she didn’t know to listen for it.
Morgan appeared over the opening in the floor. She raised an eyebrow. “Checked your quarters, you weren’t there.”
“I’m just taking a look at the fold jump engines. See if there was anything I could do so we didn’t have to suffer through this long-ass journey again.”
The both knew that wasn’t true. If Morgan couldn’t figure it out, hell if Ben could.
“I figured we’d get a hotshot engineer on Vassar-1 to take a look,” Morgan said.
“Yeah, well, figured we could save some credits,” Ben said lamely.
“Ha,” Morgan said. “They all love telling a woman how to fix her ship. It won’t cost me a dime. I’ll just have to play as dumb as they think I am.”
“I bet that’s not easy,” Ben said.
Morgan was happy to see a small smile return to his face. “You have no idea.”
“Anyway, there wasn’t much else to do,” Ben said.
“Unfortunately, there is. We’re getting close to Vassar-1 space, and we have two UEF personnel on board. We need to change their clothes and—”
“Take out their chips. Yeah, I know.” Ben finished Morgan’s sentence for her. She hated that, but gave him some slack, considering his circumstances. “I just wanted to give it some time, especially since I blew one of their buddies out the damn airlock.”
“I think you gave them all the time we can afford. If an AIC fighter happens by us on recon, or a simple perimeter sweep of their space—”
“They’ll detect those chips. You’re right. Well, let’s get to it then.” Ben did it again. A second time, Morgan had to bite her lip.
Suddenly, a klaxon sounded. It was muffled in the tinker room, but no less recognizable.
“Proximity alarm,” Morgan said. “I think the time for subtlety is over.”
“Agreed,” Ben snapped. He looked like a different person as he climbed to his feet and shot past Morgan like an uncoiling spring, leaving her chasing on his heels.
Twenty
Ben emptied his mind. He’d done it before, and he’d just have to do it again. He was embarrassed that Morgan had had to come searching for him, but he would have been more embarrassed if she knew what he was really doing down there.
He thought about the holo-image again and almost tripped. He shoved the images out of his mind.
Focus. Now is not the time.
He rushed into the cockpit with Morgan on his six, and was surprised to find Ada in the pilot’s seat.
“What do we have?” Morgan asked Ada.
“I have no idea,” Ada said, sounding bewildered but not panicked. “I think we’re being hailed.”
Morgan nodded and reached over her shoulder to flip up a data screen. “You got a crash course on piloting, but that didn’t really extend to comm systems.” She glanced at the hailing frequency.
“Who is it?” Ben asked.
“AIC, clear as a neutron star. Ada,” Morgan said calmly, “I’m going to need you to go below decks with the captain.”
Ada’s bewilderment deepened. “Why?”
At this point, Ben felt bad for what was to come, and he could tell that Morgan felt the same.
“Just do it, Ada,” Morgan said. “We can’t have you up here.”
Ada rose slowly, and looked like she was about to say something else, when Morgan slipped past her into the pilot’s nest and flipped off the proximity alarm.
“Trust me, Ada,” Ben said. “You need to do this.”
She looked far from convinced, but Ben trusted she would come. He turned and walked out. After a moment, he heard her fall in behind him.
“What’s going on?” Ada asked.
Ben didn’t really want to talk about it until they were with Tomas, too. “I didn’t know you have piloting experience.”
“I don’t,” she said. “Unless you could being on the bridge of the Atlas once.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think many would.”
Ada agreed as they came down the steps and into the main shared space. Tomas and Ace were sitting on the wall-installed couches, in animated discussion.
Both men instantly stopped speaking and looked up at Ben. His stride was purposeful.
“What’s up? What’s going on?” asked Tomas.
“AIC patrol. We’re here a little sooner than I thought.”
“That makes one of us,” Ace grumbled. It was amazing how quickly one got accustomed to fold jumping.
“Ace,” Ben said purposefully. “It’s time.”
Ace grimaced. “Sorry, bud. Nothing pe
rsonal.”
He grabbed Tomas by one arm.
Tomas was understandably confused. “What’re you—!”
Using his artificial arm, Ben grabbed Tomas’ other arm. The ex-UEF Special Forces member was a big strong boy, and needed two people to restrain him.
Ben took out a knife. “Long story short, the UEF chipped you when you enlisted. We need to get it out. Right now.”
“The hell you are,” Ada said, stepping forward.
“I hate to tell you, but you’re next,” Ben said, shrugging.
“Is all this necessary?” asked Ada.
“It is,” answered Morgan. She’d slipped in behind Ada. “And you both know why we have to do this the hard way. Those chips will pulse if we try to deaden the nerves around them. And with a patrol already wandering around out there sniffing up our asses, we can’t have that.”
“If we’d pulled them while we were in UEF space—”
“Then we’d be tagged by the UEF just as quick,” Ben said. What he didn’t say was what he’d been feeling since he’d joined Morgan and Ace, which was that he was beginning to trust the AIC more than his own government, or maybe distrust it less. “We’ve waited as long as we can.”
“Shouldn’t you be flying?” Ace grunted to Morgan.
“We’re at full stop. If those assholes want to shoot us unprovoked, we didn’t stand a chance anyway.”
“All the same, I want you back up there quickly,” Ben said.
Ada crossed her arms. “How about you, Ben? Didn’t you used to be UEF? Don’t you need yours out, too?”
Ben showed her the underside of his flesh and bone forearm. There was a small incision scar where Ace had cut the chip out a while ago.
Ada shook her head. “I keep wanting to give you guys the benefit of the doubt, but the way you just—”
“Just do it,” Tomas said, turning up the underside of his arm.
“Morgan?”
She stepped forward and touched her temple. “One sec, just got to switch the vision mode. HUD, X-ray filter.” With one finger pressed against Tomas’ skin: “Cut here.”
“Okay, deep breath, man,” instructed Ben. “On the count of three. One, two—”
Ben plunged the tip of his knife as gently as he could into Tomas’ arm.
To Tomas’ credit, he didn’t scream out or make any noise other than grunting. But the veins popped out of his neck and his teeth gritted. His arm shook a little bit, but Ben’s robotic one did a good job of keeping him stable.
“Almost there. Almost…” Ben focused intently as he tried to maneuver the knife through the blood spilling out.
“You got it. Now, slowly, move it out,” instructed Morgan. She, Ace, and Ada watched as Ben pushed the tip of the knife up as it was nestled under the UEF chip. They all could see as the chip pressed against the inside of the skin on Tomas’ arm.
“Got it!” Ben popped the chip out; it fell onto the floor of the Lost’s shared space. He immediately stomped it into pieces.
Ace immediately took out the ship’s med kit and wrapped Tomas’ arm tightly in gauze. Ben turned his attention to Ada.
“You ready?” asked Ben.
“No,” answered Ada honestly.
“Yeah…” Ben sat down next to Ada. He pulled her arm under his metallic one and squeezed, trapping it. “Morgan, maybe it’s better if you do it. I’ll hold her still.”
He handed over the still-bloody knife. Morgan wiped Tomas’ blood off on her pants; then she got ready to get to work. “This is gonna suck, but I’ll be as fast as possible as well.”
Ada nodded and closed her eyes.
Ben found Ada’s response to the pain, like Tomas’, impressive. Other than her gritted teeth and tensed muscles, she barely budged. He’d like to think he’d do as well as the two Marines, but he knew better.
“Easy peasy,” Ace said. “Can we go fly now?”
Twenty-One
Morgan gave Ace the finger, then sauntered back toward the cockpit with Ace following her. She refused to move faster, and could feel Ace chafing behind her.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” he growled.
“Are you?” she countered. “Just calm the hell down. I said I could get us there, and I will.”
“This is crazy,” Ace moaned. “I can’t believe we’re going to Vassar-1.”
“You had a chance to speak up.”
“What was the alternative?”
“Exactly,” Morgan said as they entered the cockpit. “So shut up.”
By the time Ben slid into the command chair, Morgan was waiting for the inevitable. Ada and Tomas stood near the entrance, out of the way, but clearly still wanting to be involved some. Only the teenager was nowhere to be found. “Did anyone check on Francesca?”
“She’s in the quarters,” Ada said. “I vote we leave her there. I don’t see any reason to upset her.”
All of them watched as two AIC fighters came into view beside and slightly in front of the Lost.
“Yeah, some upsetting stuff out there, all right,” Ace said under his breath to Morgan. “You better have some magic up your sleeve. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to live through this.”
Morgan flipped open her comm. “Want me to hail them—”
Just then, the comm squawked, and a notification appeared in the viewing window. “Right on time,” she murmured. “Incoming message.”
“Put it through the speakers,” Ben said.
A man’s stern voice resonated over intercom. “This is the AIC Raven. You are entering AIC space without proper tags or identification beacons. Identify yourselves.”
In the distance, Morgan saw Vassar-1. On one of the screens in the pilot’s nest, she was able to enhance the image. Her artificial eyes were also able to zoom in further and see a long line of ships and frigates waiting to be allowed into the planet’s atmosphere, past the shields surrounding the large rock.
Morgan feathered the thrusters, moving subtly in the direction of the gate.
“What are you doing?” Ben said.
“Relax,” she said. “I know these bastards. We need to keep them on their toes.”
This better work, Director. Don’t screw me over when I’m this close.
“Okay, Clearance number 893B54F. I repeat, 893B54F.”
“Please stand by for verification,” said the AIC pilot. “Stop your forward progress.”
Morgan didn’t acknowledge. Instead, she added a bit more thrust.
“Where’d you get the clearance number?” asked Ben.
“I have my sources.”
“Your sources?”
“Yup, that’s what I said.”
“Is it….how old is it?” he asked.
“Good question.”
“Good question? Did you ask your sources that good question?” Ben asked.
Morgan ignored him and feathered the thrusters a third time. They were moving at a good clip now.
“I say again, stop your forward motion,” said the AIC pilot, his voice clipped and hard. “Or we will not hesitate to fire on you.”
You’ve already hesitated to fire, asshole. Just hesitate a little longer.
The AIC fighters were falling back now, holding their positions relative to the gate. She’d been counting on that. The Lost didn’t have any weapons beyond the flak guns, so fighting their way planetside was out of the question.
But outrunning them was another story.
“Attention, unknown ship, your clearance code is out of date. Please state your business on Vassar-1 or turn around immediately. I repeat, state your business or leave Vassar-1 space, or we will engage.”
Morgan sighed. Dammit, Heather!
“Your sources, huh?” Ben’s tone was that of a man annoyed.
“What are we gonna do?” asked Ace.
“We can tell them the truth,” suggested Tomas.
“What truth would that be? We’re here to warn your government that an alien threat of shapeshifting monsters is comi
ng your way? I’m sure that’ll go over well,” Ace said.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Morgan said. She flipped on the comm. “Understood, AIC Raven,” she said. “We were given two codes in our cargo agreements. Please try clearance number 8CCB54F. Thanks and sorry for the bother.” She killed the comms.
“What code was that?” Ben asked.
“Who knows?” She shrugged. “I just made it up.”
“So what—”
“I think you need to go below decks and get the kid and bring her up here,” Morgan said to Ada.
Ada jumped up and shot out of the cockpit.
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Tomas said.
“Attention, unknown ship.” The AIC pilot’s voice was sharp now. “Your clearance code is not acceptable. Slow to a stop now.”
Morgan swung lazily past a few straggler freighters making their way toward the line outside the gate.
Finally, a little cover.
As she slipped under the biggest one, she opened up the thrusters, no longer trying to hide her intentions.
Ada came back in with an annoyed Francesca behind her. “What the hell is going on?” she said as she took a seat.
An alarm flashed a moment before a pair of energy beams rippled through space just ahead of the ship.
“Shit, they’re shooting at us!” Ace hollered.
“No, they aren’t,” Morgan said. “It was a warning shot. They wouldn’t miss if they were.”
“Next time they won’t,” Ben said.
“Agreed,” Morgan said. She tightened her grip on the piloting stick. “Get strapped in, everyone.”
Twenty-Two
“They gave you a medal?” asked the Pale Man.
The inside of the spherical ship changed and morphed all around them, adapting to Lee Saito’s memories as the two of them went through it.
Lee knew he was sitting in a nondescript chair in front of the Pale Man. His mind told him that was true, but his eyes told him a different story. The chair had been refashioned into one he remembered from his childhood.
