“What the hell is this?” Rev asked Doctor Rima. “I’ve never seen a round like it.”
“I don’t think it is a round.”
“The thing shot it at Eth,” he said, looking to where Randigold was still under the effects of anesthesia.
“Have you watched the recordings? Did those things really look like fighters?”
Rev had downloaded his own recordings, but in the rush to get the people up from the surface, Rev hadn’t had a chance to actually look at them. He tried to recall what he’d seen. The small ones that had come down Badger had scuttled along the walls of the passage like obscene crabs. Instead of claws, there’d been a single barrel that had shot the cylindrical round Rev was now holding. He vaguely remembered other arms on the things, arms that were folded along their tops. But none of that answered what this was.
“OK, then, what is it?”
“I think a nail. Or a spike.”
“A nail. Right.”
“Look, you’re the big bad Marine, and I’m just a doc. But I think those were maintenance bots. I think they were shooting their version of nails at you.”
“We got attacked by maintenance bots?”
“They were tiny when compared to the other ones, right? And there were a bunch of them. No shielding, either.”
Rev tried to remember exactly what he’d seen. After Tomiko and the rest were aboard and they’d jumped out of real space, he’d have to sit down and watch the recordings. But what Rima had said made sense. He wasn’t totally accepting it, but he had to admit to the possibility.
He placed the spike/round back on the small table beside Randigold. She’d want to keep it as a souvenir when she woke up.
Rev was happy that Randigold would make a full recovery. Doc Rima would keep her under for a couple of days—not because of the spike, but because she’d taken some minor nerve damage by the first beam weapon. By the time they arrived at their RP, she’d be good as new.
The news wasn’t so good on the other three. Only D’Agosti had a chance at resurrection. With a first-class facility, he’d probably make it. Here, with the ship’s limited capability, it would be much more hit or miss.
“Take care of them, Iris,” Rev said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“You know I will.”
“Hangar Alpha, prepare for shuttle arrival,” came over the 1MC.
“That’s me,” Rev said.
He hurried out. Actually, it wasn’t him. He had nothing to do with flight ops, and the announcement was for the edification of the crew, not the hangar personnel. But he didn’t know who would be aboard, and he wanted to be there if Tomiko was.
It had been over three hours since Captain Nyad had ordered the evacuation. Getting unprepared people off a planet was not a task conducive to a smooth operation. Best-case basis, and it would be another four or five hours before the entire surface party was aboard. Then, even at full emergency acceleration, it would take another seven hours to be up to jump speed.
It had been nine hours since the battle in the asteroid—if Captain Nyad had heeded Rev’s request to evacuate the planet, they’d already be accelerating away now. Call it five hours until everyone was aboard. Seven more hours until jumping.
That was twenty-one hours from the end of the battle until they were safely out of the system.
Twenty-one hours might seem like nothing when taken in the context of space travel. But if this were a human installation that had Q-comms, a nearby naval quick-reaction force could make the jump and arrive in-system in that timeframe. It would rely on immediate reaction and a short jump through bubble space, but it was possible.
And that was for humans. They had no idea how advanced the BGs were. They’d reacted quickly enough in the EFP-1 system, after all, and that was without triggering a hibernating station.
They might not come snooping around to investigate at all, or they could come in force at any minute. Rev kept half an ear to the message traffic, somewhat expecting the alarms to go off as a BG reaction force jumped into the system.
But he’d done pretty much everything he could at the moment. The naval phase was up to Nyad and his crew, which left Rev cooling his heels.
He could go spend time with the girls. He’d only checked in on them upon his arrival. But even if he didn’t have a specific task he had to be doing, he felt that he should be in the mix somehow. And meeting Shuttle 403 gave him the façade of doing something, at least.
The shuttle was still five minutes out when Rev reached the hangar. For all the potential danger, the hangar personnel seemed relatively calm. Just another routine day aboard the Galaxy Explorer.
Rev joined Top behind the low blast shield at the back and waited impatiently for the shuttle to dock. It was already in the tractor beam, and at last, it appeared on the other side of the curtain. A minute later, it touched down, and the back ramp lowered.
Except only civilians came hurrying out. No Marines, which meant no Tomiko. He’d expected that. She was the acting commander of the ground security, so he knew she would be on the last lift.
The turnaround was quick. The shuttle was on the deck for less than two minutes before the tractors picked her up and started maneuvering her to launch again.
“Will that be the last one?” Rev asked Top.
“Should be, according to my lift list.”
“We should have crammed everyone in the 409 and the Charon,” Rev said.
“The shuttle’s already at max takeoff weight.”
“And there’s a built-in safety buffer for that,” Rev said. “She can handle it.”
Relying on one more lift from 403 was going to add an extra ninety-five minutes to the process. The fact that they hadn’t overloaded 409 and the Charon was a pretty good indication that even if Nyad had gone along with the evacuation, he really didn’t think the BGs were coming.
“I think I’m going to the CIC to see if I can’t change someone’s mind. We can get all the pax aboard 409 and the Charon, and 403 can just turn around and come back,” Rev said.
“Good luck with that, Rev. You know how the squids can be with their schedules.”
Rev grunted and started to the CIC. The top was probably right, but at least it gave him something he could do.
* * *
Rev had faced a brick wall in trying to change the lift. But finally, 403 was back, settling softly on the hangar deck. The ramp dropped, and the Marines, along with a few of the Genesians who’d been overflow from the previous lifts, came down. Tomiko was last, and Rev hurried over to meet her.
She retracted her face shield as Rev approached and asked, “What the hell is going on? The BGs are coming?”
“Yeah. I mean maybe. We don’t know. The freakin’ station woke up when we entered it. We lost D’Agosti, Fiore, and Lymon, and Eth was hurt.”
Tomiko’s eyes widened at that. “Respect for the fallen,” she said before asking, “You had a fight? With BGs?”
“I think it was automated security, but I’ll bring you up to speed. We need to get everyone molted and in their quarters as we get ready to jump.”
The hangar doors were already closing, and the yellowshirts were maneuvering 403 into its position. Tomiko nodded and told Kelly to get the Marines to the armory.
Just over half an hour later, the SNCOs were gathering in the chiefs’ mess. Rev briefed them, and he ran parts of his view of the battle on the asteroid on the main screen. This was the first time he’d had a chance to watch the feed, and after seeing the little bots that hit Randigold, he had to agree that they were probably maintenance bots that had been called to do what they could to push back the human invaders.
Six infants and toddlers were there with them. The little ones were happy enough, but the tension was high among the adults. Two games of Knock-On were started, but neither lasted longer than forty minutes.
The main focus was on the timer that counted down to their jump. The closer it got, the more nervous Rev became. The gods of war were a fickle lot, and it would be keeping within brand to have them jump in just as safety seemed within reach.
But maybe the gods were tired of messing with them because the ship reached jump speed without the BGs rushing in to attack, and they were in bubble space. They didn’t stay long. All they’d wanted to do was to get some distance between them and the system, and they dropped out a mere light-week away, out in the middle of nowhere.
The Galaxy Explorer’s scanners were locked on the system. They wouldn’t see anything for a week after it happened, but they’d know if the BGs arrived before that. Fiona Clyburn, in her Shrike, would make a daily jump in and out of the system to check it out.
If the BGs arrived, then Nyad would take the Explorer on a full jump. If they didn’t, they’d return to the planet and carry on.
So now, it was just a waiting game.
* * *
They were still waiting eight days later, and the troops were getting restless. Nyad, Tata Eleven, and Njuguna had initially agreed to two weeks, but now that they were getting scans of the system from after they left, Rev knew they were having second thoughts.
To be honest, so was Rev. It wasn’t just the side glances of disapproval he was getting. It had never been announced how the decision to leave had been made, but it was common knowledge that this was on Rev’s shoulders, and the general opinion was that he’d overreacted.
And they weren’t alone. Rev had time to second—and third and fourth—guess himself. Did he get overwhelmed by the security situation and make leaps of assumption that weren’t warranted?
Worse, was this all predicated on him wanting to cement his position in the expedition leadership? Had this been an ego trip?
“Well, if we assume that their capabilities are the same as ours, then how long would be the most reasonable time for them to arrive?” Rev asked Punch.
The two of them were alone in one of the small spaces midships. Punch might have had his clock speed retarded by the Genesians, but he still had his basic processing capability intact. Maybe more than that, as a non-human, Rev felt he could trust him for a non-partisan view.
“That would depend on their proximity to the system and the urgency they feel. As we discussed, even if they knew the station was activated, they might or might not know the reason and could put it down to a simple maintenance glitch.”
Yes, the two of them had discussed that, but Rev wasn’t on board with the possibility. If some sort of signal went out, then he was sure it would be along the lines of the station being attacked. There were surviving attack bots, and they certainly would have reported that if they had the capability.
“Just make a SWAG.”
“I don’t make a ‘simple wild-ass guess.’ You know that, Rev.”
“The gennies do.”
“I’m not a Genesian.”
But you spend a lot of your time with them.
“OK, then. Let me rephrase it. If some sort of military, police, or whatever force was within, say, fifty parsecs, and they could react within twenty-four hours, when could we have expected them?”
“I’m afraid you’re not going to get the answer you need. You’ve put too many assumptions into your question. But if I were to answer that, they could have arrived from before we left and until now.”
“If you were to answer. I’m so glad you didn’t, then,” Rev said with a scowl.
But Punch had been right on the button. Rev wanted an answer. Had he been chasing ghosts? Or could the BGs still be coming?
“So, tell me. Do you think I was right? Should we have left?” he asked.
“Does it matter what I think? We left, and I don’t think playing what should we have done helps the situation.”
“It does matter, Punch. You’re my friend, and I trust your decision-making.”
Punch was silent for a moment. The Genesians did have facial expressions programmed into their shells. They weren’t the same as for the rest of the humans, but they were something. Punch hadn’t mastered them, and Rev couldn’t decipher what his friend was thinking.
“You made the right decision.”
Rev almost recoiled in shock. He’d been expecting the worst, not the affirmation he’d just received.
“Really?”
“There is no set timeline for this expedition. So, what have we lost if, in fact, there is no reaction from the BGs? A week? Two weeks? In the long haul, the Genesians can still settle the planet, and the expedition can move on to the next mission. The cost of leaving the system is negligible.
“But if the BGs arrive, or if they do enter the system, the results could be catastrophic. We lost capital ships the last time we met them. There is no reason to believe that the Galaxy Explorer could survive another clash.
“Your insistence on leaving was a prudent choice, one with little downside and a potentially huge upside.”
Rev felt far more relieved than he should have. Tomiko had told him much the same thing. But in the back of his mind, he wondered if she’d just been saying that because she was his wife.
Punch was his friend and, in many ways, the person with whom he had the deepest connection, forged from years occupying the same body. But Punch wasn’t going to lie to him. He wasn’t going to let emotion get in the way of logic.
“The question now is whether we go back,” Rev said. “What do you think?”
“This sector of space is far less dense than most of the galaxy. The BGs are here. We know that. But with the spread of star systems, the probability is greater that their locations are farther apart than what might be experienced closer into the core. As such, I think there’s a strong argument to delay returning for a little longer.”
Which, despite his growing misgivings that he’d made the right choice, was what Rev would do. He wasn’t sure, though, that he had much of a say in things now.
“I don’t think the rest of the leadership is going to go along with that.”
“That’s immaterial to what I think is the right course of action to take.”
I guess he’s got a point. They’re gonna do whatever they’re gonna do.
He’d recommend sticking to the entire two weeks, but he wasn’t going to risk a breakdown in relations over it.
“I’ve still got another hour or so before the meeting,” Rev said. “But I will push to stay here.”
Clyburn was on her way to the system now. As with the other times, she’d drop into real space, take her readings and report those back, and jump out again. None of her previous missions lasted more than twenty minutes, and neither should this.
The timing of the meeting wasn’t a coincidence. With Clyburn’s all clear, Rev was sure Nyad and the others would push for a return. After Punch’s pep talk, he knew he’d object, but this time, he didn’t think he’d win.
“I might as well head to the CIC and wait for Fiona to check in,” Rev said. “Thanks for the time, Punch.”
“I’ve got more than enough time for you, Rev.”
“Are you heading back to genny space?”
“Kurt Four is changing positions. He’ll be Kurt Six now, and they’re having a party, to which I’ve been invited.”
Rev tried to keep his face expressionless. He’d felt close again with Punch over the last hour. Not in-his-head close, but more so than they’d been for a long time. Now, though, the reality was back. Punch obviously felt closer to the Genesians than he did to the rest of the humans.
It made sense. He had the same shell as they did, and he must feel grateful to them for freeing him from Rev’s brain. But understanding why Punch might feel that way didn’t soften the hurt in his heart.
“I didn’t know the gennies partied. Have a good time, though. I guess you’ll know for sure soon enough what we decide.”
“I hope I’ve been of assistance.”
Rev clapped Punch’s metallic back and said, “You really were. It’s good to have a sounding board to get your thoughts in order.”
He left before he could say anything else. He loved his old AI, and if hanging with the Genesians made him happy, then so be it.
The CIC was packed. Rev, due to his position, was able to get a seat at the small conference table, but most of the others were standing around, trying to stay out of the way of the watch.
“So, Kurt Four is now Kurt Six?” Rev asked Tata Eleven, who was sitting at the table as well.
The Genesians didn’t need to sit. They were quite able to stand for days on end. But there was more than a little symbolism going on here, and she was claiming her place at the head table in more ways than one.
“I’m surprised that you’re aware of that, Sergeant Major.”
Rev wondered if Punch had repeated something that he wasn’t supposed to. “That’s the rumor that’s spreading around. Isn’t it true?”
“Yes, it’s true. Kurt is now Kurt Six.”
She didn’t dig, and suddenly, Rev was curious. “What about you? I mean, if Kurt’s transferring to a new job, then shouldn’t you be transferring, too?”
Tata Eleven didn’t hesitate nor deflect. “For continuity’s sake, I’ll remain in position until we are at our new home.”
“Then you should be grateful to me for delaying us,” he said with a laugh. “I kept you in the top seat for a while longer.”
He might have thought it was funny, but she didn’t.
“I will be happy to pass on my duties, Sergeant Major, and enjoy setting up our new home.”
“I was just joking,” he muttered.
She made no indication that she heard him.
They fell into an uneasy silence. Rev didn’t know where he really stood with the Genesians. Kurt was a kind of friend, but with the rest? Who knew?
As the commander of the ground security, Rev appreciated having the Genesians available, but suddenly, he was ready for them to leave the expedition.
Let them disappear from the rest of us.
Top Klipsinger came in a few minutes later, and Rev eagerly waved him over. It was good to have a friendly face with him.
“The Havocs lost,” Top said as he slipped in beside him.
“What the hell are you talking about, Tye?”
“The Havocs. Lost in the semis.”
“The Havocs,” Rev said, rolling his eyes.
Top was from Morgan’s Mount, and the Havocs were the planetary flipball team. Rev had long lost any interest in the Union Cup. Being exiled put somewhat of a damper on his enthusiasm for home sports. But most of his Marines still avidly followed all of the sports at home, and even when comms were spotty, somehow, the scores always made it through.
“Sorry about that,” Rev said.
Top shrugged. “It could be worse. They beat the spread, and I took two hundred credits from Chief Santos.”
The betting was even more confusing. Rev had never been a huge gambler, and now, out in the depths of the black, it wasn’t even on his horizon. What was top going to do with Santos’s two hundred?
Much of what had once been important to Rev while back on Safe Harbor didn’t matter to him in the least now. But evidently, that was not true for many of them. It was as if, by clinging to those things, they were keeping a tenuous grasp on their past.
Still, Rev congratulated him on winning the bet. It didn’t hurt, and it made the top happy.
He didn’t want to hear a blow-by-blow account of the match, and he started to change the subject when Nyad and the XO entered the CIC. The watch officer approached to give him his brief, and then the captain took his seat at the table.
“Eight minutes,” he said, locking eyes with Rev.
Yeah, I get it. Eight minutes, and then you can rub it in that you were right and I was wrong.
For a split second, Rev wished that the BGs would attack just to wipe that smug grin off Nyad’s face. And then he felt guilty for the thought.
“I am glad it’s turned out this way,” Rev said. “But I still stand by my position that this has been the correct course of action.”
Nyad pursed his lips and then said, “Maybe it was. But I think it’s run its course.”
Rev wasn’t going to argue. Not here in the CIC with all of the captain’s crew. He’d wait until they retired to the captain’s stateroom before asking to keep to the two-week agreement. After that, things would be out of his hands.
“Five minutes until entry,” one of the sailors called out.
That was being piped throughout the ship as well, keeping everyone up-to-date. The 3D flickered to life with a rendition of the system. It was from a week ago, but as soon as Clyburn entered the system, and once her Q-comms were established, they’d be able to see what was happening in close to real-time.
Njuguna entered the CIC and rushed to the lone empty seat at the table.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not late, Doctor,” Nyad said. “You’re just in time.”
Rev ignored them and studied the projection. He’d paid close attention to the BG station since they arrived. There was no indication that anything had changed on the asteroid. The power was still on, but neither the long-distance observation nor Clyburn’s scans showed any sign of life—or if not life, then activity.
You’ve got to accept the reality, Reverent. This might all have been a false alarm.
“Two minutes until entry,” the sailor announced.
A timer appeared on the projection and started counting down.
Real space and bubble space operated on different physics and time. Even with the most sophisticated equipment known to humankind, timing a ship dropping back into real space was not exact. For a jump of this short distance, it could go thirty seconds either way.
In this case, Clyburn dropped out of bubble space twenty-three seconds early. The Q-comms indicator turned green.
“Hello, hello, hello! This is Dr. Fiona Clyburn, pilot extraordinaire, reporting my safe arrival into System EFP-07.”
Nyad frowned, and that made Rev smile. Clyburn was a former Paxus Navy Shrike pilot, but she was a civilian now, and she seemed to enjoy tweaking the established Navy comms procedures.
“No baddies here to greet me, but let me turn on my scanners and . . . oh, shit!”
Lights started popping up on the projection as bogey after bogey appeared. Ten, twenty, thirty . . . with many in close proximity to her.
Nyad stood and shouted, “Clyburn, get the hell out of there. Match us on Apollo.
“Nav, get us underway for jump. Axis Apollo,” he then told the helmsman.
Bodies started scrambling as “Attention all hands. Implement Condition Two-A,” came over the 1MC.
Rev just stared at the projection. Every few seconds, more bogeys appeared. And after a couple of minutes, several seemed to react to the Shrike’s presence.
He was somewhat worried about Clyburn. But she’d dropped at full speed, and she should be ready to jump again within a few more minutes. He didn’t think the BGs could do anything in time to stop her.
What warred with that concern was a deep sense of satisfaction.
Which was crazy. Those were BGs out there—they wouldn’t know for sure until they could analyze the data, but Rev was sure of it. And with the BGs, all of the equipment on the planet was lost. And that was a huge blow to the mission.
But despite the bad turn of events, Rev was feeling a warm glow of satisfaction.
I was fucking right!
He’d never admit it. He would never say, “I told you so.” Everyone, though, from Nyad on down to the lowest ranking sailor, would know that he’d just saved the expedition.
If he could magically wish the BGs away, he would. But since he didn’t have a djinn in a bottle, he had to accept the reality. And in that case, he was going to secretly—or maybe not quite so secretly—take pride in his foresight.
He kept his eyes locked on Clyburn. His heart gave a leap when the two nearest BGs opened fire on her, but she was going too fast and was too far away. Ninety-seven seconds after the first BG fired, she winked out into bubble space, and the projection went blank.
The BGs hadn’t previously shown that they could follow human ships through bubble space, but Nyad was taking no chances. By getting underway now, he’d lessened the amount of time before they could jump. Clyburn would be able to drop out into real space, match courses, and be retrieved before the Galaxy Explorer jumped herself.
Unless a huge surprise landed in their laps, they were safe.
Everyone in the CIC realized that, too. The shock of seeing the BGs wore off as sailors focused on getting the ship ready to jump. A sense of professionalism pervaded the space.
Rev was feeling content, and there was nothing he could do here. It was time to go to Tomiko and the girls. As he started to stand, his eyes landed on Tata Eleven, who was still sitting as still as a statue.
And despite his vow to never say “I told you so,” a perverse bit of his warrior self took over.
Rev leaned across the table and said, “Well, I guess you’ll be Tata Eleven for a little bit longer now.”