by C H Gideon
“Event horizon in three…two…one…mark,” the helmsman announced, and as he spoke, the murky black disc of the wormhole gate was replaced by the image of a particularly massive, multi-colored gas giant.
“Transit successful,” the ship’s navigator reported. “We have arrived in the Nexus system.”
“Receiving League Peacekeeper Fleet ID challenge,” the comm officer reported.
“Transmit our credentials and itinerary,” Colonel Li replied staidly as a dozen warship icons flickered into being on the tactical plotter positioned prominently in the command center. That dozen quickly grew to over a hundred, and Jenkins forced himself to relax as he knew that at least half of them were a match for the Bonhoeffer.
And at that moment, they all had their guns trained on the Armor Corps warship.
“Credentials and itinerary acknowledged,” Comm reported. “I’m receiving a P2P link request.”
Jenkins cocked his head, making brief eye contact with General Akinouye, who seemed as surprised as he was.
“Accept the link,” Li commanded, and a moment later, the image of a Jemmin appeared on the screen.
The Jemmin were remarkably similar to humans. They were bipedal, featured external paired organs such as eyes and ears, and largely interacted with their environments the same way humans did. They relied upon the same basic senses, had fingered hands with opposable thumbs, and organized themselves along similar social lines to those used by humans.
But in spite of those similarities, the differences were striking.
They had grey, porous skin with the barest hints of blue near their facial features. Their mouths were lined not with teeth, but rows of flexible bone plates that were more than capable of tearing through meat and bone alike. Their ears were long slits which ran from midway up their necks to the tops of their heads, and their noses were recessed rather than prominent like human noses. And none of their external organs were quite symmetrical, though a consistent left-right bias seemed indiscernible to Jenkins.
Still, it was their eyes—gray, featureless, and unblinking—that stood out the most.
“Human warship Dietrich Bonhoeffer,” the Jemmin’s auto-translated voice greeted, “this is Illumination League Peacekeeping Cruiser, Azure Spire. Your destination star system is under quarantine. We advise, for your safety, that you return to your home star system and wait until we declare it to once again be transit-safe. Acknowledge.”
“Azure Spire, this is Dietrich Bonhoeffer actual, acknowledging your transmission,” Colonel Li replied neutrally while tapping out commands which, when received by the helmsman, saw the carrier’s engines fire and drive the venerable warship toward the Naga gate. “Our mission to the Naga System is considered top priority. My orders are to proceed there without delay, secure Terran interests in accordance with our lawful rights, and await further instructions from my government. Acknowledge,” he finished, his lips pursed in a thin line as he returned the Azure Spire CO’s command.
“Transmission acknowledged, Dietrich Bonhoeffer,” the Jemmin replied in the flat, emotionless tone of the auto-translator. “Acknowledge receipt of this duly-issued warning regarding the Naga System’s current status.”
Colonel Li quickly examined a data packet, which he brought to General Akinouye for review. The ebony-skinned general nodded after reviewing the document and affixed his signature to it.
“Azure Spire,” Colonel Li declared, forwarding the document to the comm officer, “we are transmitting our acknowledged copy of your warning.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “We appreciate your concern for our well-being.”
“Transmission received. Proceed to the Naga gate and do not deviate from the indicated route,” the Jemmin said before cutting the link.
“Frosty,” Akinouye muttered just loud enough for Jenkins to hear. He leaned toward Jenkins and added, “Prepare for a hot drop.”
“Yes, General,” Jenkins agreed, having already issued orders to that effect. Better to be unnecessarily over-prepared. The alternative would get people killed.
The Bonhoeffer adjusted course and speed, as directed by the IL Peacekeepers, and soon the main viewer was filled with the image of their destination wormhole gate. Clustered around the most massive gas giant in the Nexus System, the gates assigned to humanity’s sub-set of the FTL—faster than light—network were relatively close to one another. The other League species, and even those species like the Vorr and Arh’Kel who were no longer parties to the Illumination League but retained access to their wormholes, were similarly clustered at roughly equidistant points from the rest of the non-League worlds.
Dozens of Arh’Kel warships soon appeared on the farthest edge of the Bonhoeffer’s tactical plotter, and Jenkins could feel the atmosphere in command and control, the CAC go taut as the contacts were called out in the sensor pit. There was little real risk of a confrontation in the Nexus, but the bad blood the rock-biters had earned in recent decades made every human present take note at seeing their longtime enemy’s warships maneuvering well within weapons range.
“Steady as she goes, Helm,” Colonel Li said firmly, and the stiff shoulders around the CAC relaxed, if just a bit as people resumed focus on their duties. “Triple-check our approach vector to the Naga gate,” he added for good measure.
“Aye, sir,” came a short burst of acknowledgments as the Bonhoeffer moved toward its destination. At their present speed, they would arrive in just under an hour. During that time, Jenkins observed no fewer than one thousand distinct sensor contacts appear on the tactical plotter, with eighty percent of those icons belonging to the Illumination League Peacekeeper Force.
Every single League member species was represented in the ILPF’s ship roster, but Solar humanity’s representation was pathetic by comparison to most. Just thirty warships bearing Solarian heraldry were present, and none of them made any effort to contact their Terran brethren as the Armor Corps drove toward the Naga gate.
“One Minders,” grunted General Akinouye in muted disgust. “A hundred billion people call Sol home, sixty times as many as live in the Terran Republic, and they can’t even be bothered to present a credible presence here at the beating heart of the Illumination League? Pathetic.”
Jenkins quirked a brow in mild surprise. “The Terran Republic’s official stance on Terran-Sol relations is one promoting reunification.”
“Nobody on this deck is stupid, Colonel,” Akinouye said pointedly. “When our wormholes were locked out by the League for seventy years—which only happened because of those One Minders’ inflexible, collectivist mindset—the humans of Sol and those of us in the Terran Republic took radically different paths. We had to survive without interstellar commerce, and developed our own technology as a result, which is why we’re able to stave off the Arh’Kel even though they outnumber us fifty-to-one.” The veteran general sneered contemptuously. “When the gates re-opened, Sol was a little too eager to run into the League’s open arms while we learned how to stand on our own. Nothing that’s happened since Sol joined the League has suggested reunification is anything but a pipe dream. So ‘official stances’ are nice in theory, but reality on the ground is another thing entirely.” He inclined his chin toward the tactical plotter. “Sol and the League deserve each other. We Terrans deserve better, which is exactly what we’re going to build. One brick at a time if necessary.”
“Yes, sir.” Jenkins nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face as the Bonhoeffer made its final approach to the Naga gate.
“Thirty seconds to event horizon,” the helmsman called out.
“Angle and velocity aligned,” the navigator reported tensely.
“Gate handshake protocols established,” reported Comms.
“All hands,” Colonel Li raised the crew over the intercom, “prepare for gate transit in twenty seconds.”
The transit timer counted down on displays throughout the ship. As the Bonhoeffer reached the event horizon, Jenkins felt his breath catch for those last few
seconds.
Then, just as had happened an hour before, the dark, impenetrable wormhole was replaced by the image of a planet. But unlike the gas giant in the Nexus System, this one was monochrome teal and featured a dazzling, silvery ring system, not unlike those of Saturn.
“Transit complete,” the helmsman reported as the Bonhoeffer’s engines fired and the ship’s course was adjusted.
“Contacts,” Sensors called out, “multiple contacts in orbit of EO-5293.”
New icons winked onto the tactical plotter, one after another, until thirty-eight warships appeared in orbit of EO-5293, a planetoid known colloquially as “Shiva’s Wrath.”
“Break it down,” Li commanded.
“Twenty-three Jemmin warships squawking ILPF idents, Colonel,” Sensors reported. “Fifteen warships squawking Vorr codes.”
Li’s brow lowered as he turned to General Akinouye. “The briefing indicated no more than six Vorr warships would be present.”
“That was our intel,” General Akinouye agreed grimly. “Apparently the Jemmin disapprove of their presence in this star system.”
Li nodded, satisfied that the Armor Corps’ ranking member was being straight with him. “All hands,” he raised his voice, “this is Colonel Li. Set condition one throughout the ship. I say again: set condition one throughout the ship.”
The XO confirmed the order, and Jenkins knew that meant his time on the bridge was at an end. He turned to leave, but the general motioned for him to stop. “Stay, Colonel. I want you as up-to-speed as possible before we drop you on that ball of ice.”
Jenkins nodded before giving Li a deferential look, to which Li nodded approvingly before resuming his duties. “Helm, increase acceleration to make least-time orbit of Shiva’s Wrath.”
“Least-time orbit, aye,” the helmsman acknowledged before adding, “estimate low-orbit in twenty-three hours, eighteen minutes, Colonel.”
Li turned to Jenkins. “I hope you people trained for a hot drop. I can’t risk hanging between two battle fleets poised to tear each other apart.”
Jenkins flashed a confident smirk. “You give us a survivable approach trajectory and we’ll be fine.”
“Good.” Li nodded, though he seemed unconvinced.
As was so often the case, Jenkins felt significantly less confident than he let on. But he had done his level best to prep his people for a hot drop. He just hoped he’d done enough.
“Come on, you monkeys!” Captain Xi Bao snarled at the scrambling rookies as last-minute preparations were made to the drop-cans, which the mechs would ride to the surface of Shiva’s Wrath. “Podsy’s dates move faster than you, and they’re all dead!” she shouted as a nearby worker tripped over her own boots and fell, sending a loose-packed crate of ration bars skittering across the deck. “Trying to get a purple tag, is that it, Quinn?” Xi barked as the woman hurriedly picked up the scattered bars and refilled the crate. “Bucking for a doctor’s note so you don’t have to go to work like the rest of us?”
“No, ma’am!” Quinn replied. She was the green Monkey assigned to Lieutenant Ford’s Forktail.
“Then why in God’s name are you trying to make out with my deck?” Xi barked. “Get those bars loaded into your mech. Move! Move! Move!” she yelled as the harried Quinn did precisely that, entering Forktail’s drop-can and disappearing from sight.
It wasn’t until the rookie was out of sight that Xi shared a grin with her former Wrench, Andy “Podsy” Podsednik, who rolled his wheelchair over to her side and muttered, “You could be nicer to them.”
Were they nice to me when I was in her shoes?” Xi retorted.
“No,” Podsy allowed, “but you get to make the world you live in. You don’t need to keep it the mess that you were raised in.”
“This isn’t a slumber party or a sorority hazing,” Xi scoffed. “Military life isn’t for the soft of ass. If she can’t handle me getting in her face over some ration bars, what good will she be when we’re knee deep in the shit and taking fire?”
“I know.” Podsy sighed. “I just think there’s more than one way to skin the proverbial cat. Bear that in mind when you’re having all the fun down there, will ya?”
“I still wish you were coming, Podsy,” Xi said seriously. “Koch’s repair unit was absolutely gutted when we transferred over from Fleet to Armor. We need every qualified Wrench we can find—legs or no,” she added with a pointed look at his amputated lower limbs.
Podsy grimaced. “You know I’d rather be down there with you, too.” He shook his head in bitter resignation. “But I’ll do more good scrounging up care packages and delivering them to you on schedule. Unlike Durgan’s Folly, it would be nice to have a steady supply line.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially as he cast a look around the Bonhoeffer’s “veteran” crew. “And between you and me, I don’t trust these geezers to be on time for anything but the Tuesday all-you-can-eat buffet line.”
Xi laughed before turning serious again. “I’m going to miss you down there, Podsy.”
“Well, at least you’re in good hands,” he said with a bemused smile as Xi’s new crewmates appeared.
Xi grumbled at the sight of them. “Don’t rub it in.”
“Elvira’s can is loaded and secured, Captain,” Private Miles “Blinky” Staubach, her new Monkey, reported.
The man beside him, Chief Warrant Officer Fourth Class Lu Kai, nodded in agreement. “I double-checked the reactor and ammo stores, Captain. We’re five-by-five.”
“Good,” Xi said flatly before gesturing to the nearest drop-cans. “Now how about you help the rest of the headless chickens straighten themselves out so that ours isn’t the only can that makes the drop?”
“Yes ma’am,” Staubach replied.
Lu, on the other hand, made a distasteful look before acknowledging, “Aye, Captain.”
“Hop to it,” she said with an urgent look, and her mech’s new crewmates did precisely that.
“You’ve gotten them into shape,” Podsy said approvingly. “It’s almost like you know what you’re doing…almost.”
“I know, right?” she deadpanned.
“Excuse me?” came the feminine voice of the one person Xi did not want to hear from. She schooled her features into a neutral mask while Podsy made little effort to hide his delight in Xi’s discomfort. “Captain Xi,” the woman said as she approached, proudly displaying her press credentials between her obnoxiously-perfect breasts. “I was just wondering if there’s a better place where I could store my backup data storage equipment?”
Xi bit back a dozen angry retorts she would have loved to deliver, but with great effort, she calmly replied, “The small arms locker is the only compartment in my mech where you haven’t already stowed at least one piece of your gear, Ms. Samuels. And as I already made clear, that particular compartment is off-limits to civilians.”
The blue-eyed, blonde-haired reporter wasn’t deterred. “This equipment is more valuable than half of the mechs in the battalion. I was assured by General Akinouye himself that I would receive full cooperation, Miss Xi...”
“Captain Xi,” she interrupted tersely. “When I’m on-duty, that is the proper form of address. Or was that not also made clear during your meeting with my superiors, Ms. Samuels?”
Sarah Samuels’ eyes flashed with something between amusement and satisfaction. “Perfectly, Captain.”
Xi did, however, eventually relent by gesturing to Elvira’s drop-can. “See those two, green, impact-rated munitions crates just inside our can’s ramp?”
Samuels flipped her hair as she turned to look at the indicated crates before nodding. “Yes, I do.”
“If you can neatly stack the ration bars I’ve got stowed in there under the port hot-bunk,” Xi said in a slightly patronizing tone, “you can use one of those for the last of your gear. But that’s the best we’ve got to offer. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Samuels agreed, turning toward Elvira’s drop-can. Her hips swayed exaggeratedly
as she walked, and more than a few heads turned to watch her as the reporter bent down to do as Xi had instructed.
“Now I really wish I was going with you.” Podsy sighed wistfully.
“She’s not your type,” Xi quipped. “Still has a pulse, remember?”
Podsy snapped his fingers in mock disappointment. “You’re right, you’re right…but still…” He cocked his head while admiring the view as the reporter bent over yet again. “Without exceptions, what good are rules?”
“You’re sick, Podsy,” Xi said, summoning as much scorn as she could before breaking out into a grin.
“I’m going to miss you, Captain,” he said seriously. “Good hunting down there.”
“I’m going to miss you too,” she said with feeling. He blinked quickly before turning his wheelchair around and rolling toward the drop-deck’s main entry.
Stumbling out of a nearby drop-can, Private Quinn once again spilled an armload of supplies, this time, chemical heat packs.
Xi groaned before stomping over toward the harried woman. “Making out with my deck on company time again, Quinn?”
“No, ma’am,” Quinn replied, her voice tremulous as she gathered up the scattered heat packs.
“The next time I see you hurl yourself at this deck,” Xi snapped, “there had better be a ring on your finger demonstrating your undying affection. Is that clear?”
“As a Solarian’s conscien...” Quinn began before halting mid-word and giving Xi a wide-eyed look.
Xi smirked. “The first smart thing you’ve said all day, and you couldn’t even do that right. Move your ass!” she barked, spurring the woman into action as she collected the last of the scattered supplies. After Quinn had once again disappeared within one of the thirty-nine prepped drop-cans, Xi muttered, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Bao?”
1
Insertion
Xi verified her neural linkage to Elvira with a brief diagnostic cycle. It caused her body to flush with alternating waves of tingling and emptiness, as the implants buried in her brain prepared to re-route her motor cortex and tactile senses. Everything was green, which meant all that remained was to wait for the drop timer.
