A novel - first drat - part 4

Chapter four

When they brought him into the medbay the first thing he had done was ask about Dawn. Doctor Paris assured him she had suffered only minor injuries and had already been discharged. Half an hour into their return to Earth, Dawn came into the medbay, sporting several patches on her face and from the way she moved DiNirr guessed also on her legs and arms, hidden under the uniform.
“Hey there, flygirl,” he said.
“The bastards blew up my shuttle,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that. What happened?”
“Well, I’m just sitting there in the cockpit, minding my own business when the bloody station starts falling apart. I tried to disengage but right then the bloody airlock blew, taking out a chunk of the shuttle with it. I barely made it to the escape pod and then I had to wait before ejecting-”
“Why?”
“Phsyics, my scientist friend: the blast put the shuttle in a spin, I had to time the eject so I don’t launch myself into the station.”
“Oh, right,” he said.
“How’s the leg?”
“There’s a chunk missing,” he said. “You want to see?”
“I don’t think Doc Paris would like that,” she said.
“So what happened in there?” she asked then. “I heard about Cargill,” she added, sadness in her voice.
DiNirr took a deep breath, remembering the dark and the nigh unstoppable attacker.
“Yes. Well it turned almost into a complete fuck-up, to use major Cane’s term. He just came out of nowhere and he had this weapon, I’ve never seen anything like it. Cargill was... well it just cut him into pieces. Then he tried to do the same to major Cal’ain and I pushed her down-
“You did what?!”
“He was aiming for her, I was right there beside her. I  just...reacted.”
Her face hardened. “Is that how you got wounded?”
“Yes. From...whatever that weapon was.”
“You could have been killed, you moron,” she said, her voice barely noticeably quivering.
“Dawn, c’mon, you don’t think that way in a situation like that,” he said.
“But it’s been constantly on my mind ever since we came back,” he added with a grin. Just a few minutes before Dawn came in it had finally came to him that he could have suffered the same fate as Cargill. Sonya came into his thoughts then and he thought about how close he’d come to never seeing her again. He suppressed those thoughts, something he trained himself to do over the years, believing it was either that or becoming overly cautious and risking the lives of his teammates.
“So, you want to be a hero now, I guess,” she said.
“Dawn, please. I knew the risks when I took the scholarship, when I joined the ‘Force.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He sighed. She was right. “You’re right, I didn’t. But my time on Amber Team changed me. And I would do it again,” he said.
She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling again.
“Eh, don’t worry. I’d have the same reaction if you were lying here.”
“Yes, O’Brien told me about your reaction,” she said.
He sighed, shaking his head. “Of course.”
“By the way, the shuttle that picked me up had Kirmani on board. Him and an annoying little man, all eyes and trembling voice.”
DiNirr chuckled, remembering Cal’ain’s interrogation of the station’s manager.
“What?” she asked.
“You should have been there,” he said, waving a hand.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your painkillers, then. I’ve got to be debriefed,” she said.
“Don’t think this gets you out of the bet,” she added, walking away.
“Dawn, come on, I’ve been wounded!” he cried, feigning exasperation.
“A bet is a bet. Double or nothing,” she said.

Maybe a minute later, major Cal’ain came in.
“How is your leg?” she asked.
He supressed the urge to straighten his bedsheets.
“Fine, thank you, ma’am. It took a big chunk of muscle but they are growing a transplant right now. Doctor Paris says I’ll be on my feet in a few days.”
“Good,” Cal’ain said.
She’s as uncomfortable as I am.
After a moment, she said, “I wanted to thank you for what you did. You’ve saved my life in all probability.”
“Don’t mention it, ma’am. I was doing my duty,” he said. “Guess all that training did some good,” he added, smiling.
The major’s face remained deadpan. “We have the weapon he used,” she said after a moment.
“Really? Uh, I mean, good.”
“Rodriguez and O’Brien are studying it right now,” she said.
“What about Kirmani, ma’am? Dawn told me he got out somehow.”
“Well, when the lights went off across the entire station he tried to contact me. Upon failing, he headed with Dellpino down to the shuttle using the emergency staircase. After the first explosion destroyed the staircase two levels below him he went for the nearest emergency airlock and in his words, ‘hoped someone would pick him up before he was blown to bits’. Falcon squad picked him up in one of the shuttles as soon as the jammer field was down.”
“Yes, the jammer field. Can’t help but feel there was something I could have done about that,” DiNirr said.
“Like what precisely?” she asked, her eyebrow raised. “You’re a genius, at least the file says so, but you’re not a miracle worker, lieutenant.”
“Besides,” she added, “if it is anyone’s fault it is mine own. I should have presumed they would have prepared for-
“Pardon me, major, but that’s...uh...well, you couldn’t have guessed they would equip the entire station with jammers or furnish it with enough explosive devices to rip it to shreds should they be discovered.”
“Yes, well, I suppose you’re right,” she said, deadpan as usual.
“We’ve done one final sweep before hyperspace,” she added. “No lifesigns in the wreckage.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. DiNirr decided to ask something that had been on his mind ever since their escape from the station.
“Major?”
“Yes?”
“Permission to speak freely?”
“You already have lieutenant,” she said.
“How do you do it, major?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“On the station, the man-“
“I could let them all die or I could try to save as many as was possible,” she answered, her voice and face betraying nothing.
“I could never do that,” he said. Then he realized how it must have sounded to her. “Oh, I don’t mean to say – I mean, erm –“
With a slight wave of her hand she stopped him.
“What makes you so sure?” she asked after a moment.
“Ma’am?”
“That you couldn’t do it if you had to?”
“I just know,” he said. Then he smiled. “That’s one of the reasons you’re the XO and I’m an egghead. Egghead with a gun, but still an egghead. I’m not command officer material.”
“Funny,” she said, “I used to say the same thing.”
As she turned to leave he asked, “The ‘eggs’, ma’am?”
“They’re secured,” she said. “Take a rest, lieutenant, you’ve earned it.”

“So what is it?” O’Brien asked. She and Rodriguez stood beside a table in the ‘Guardian’s’ armory, looking at the strange weapon laying on it. Hours had passed since they left the Saldana behind, now just a cloud of debris orbiting the planet.
“Never seen anything like it,” Rodriguez said. “But I saw what it can do.”
She looked at O’Brien. “I still can’t believe it about Cargill,” she said.
O’Brien nodded. Cargill had been one of the first to join Falcon squad, like all others personally selected by Garner from the ‘Guardian’s’ marine complement. There was a close bond between the Amber Team and their protective detail and every loss somehow felt a little more personal than the loss of someone from the rest of the crew. Now captain Garner would have to inform his parents that their son was dead and that they would bury an empty coffin and O’Brien and Rodriguez buried themselves in work, attempting to learn as much as thy could about the weapon, hoping the information would lead them to finding the ones responsible for its manufacture. It was a way both to put the death out of their minds and to make Cargill’s death not be completely devoid of meaning.
“How is Valinsky taking it?”
“He lost his best friend,” O’Brien said simply.
“Let’s put it in the scanner,” Rodriguez said after a moment of silence. “I want to have a look at it before the boys from Luna base take it away.”
Luna base was a military otupost on the surface, under the surface and in the orbit of the Moon, the closest thing Amber Taskforce had to a headquarters.
A minute later a holographic representation of the weapon’s cross section floated in the air before them.
“Ammo in the grip,” said O’Brien, looking at a stack of ten spheres, each the size of a marble.
“It’s using electromagnetic coils for delivery,” Rodriguez said, pointing to the rings inside the barrell.
“That’s the trigger and that’s the ammo cartridge ejector,” O’Brien said. “Is that the safety?”
“I think so,” Rodriguez said.
“Let’s see the ammo,” O’Brien said. Rodriguez touched the image and a blown up cross section of one of the ammo spheres shimmered into existence. The sphere had a milimeter thick shell and it contained tightly coiled filaments.
“Well I’ll be,” said O’Brien.
“We should test it,” Rodriguez said.
They set up the ordnance testing range and placed a life sized dummy in the centre of it. A forcefield shimmered blue in a semi-circle meters around it.
Rodriguez raised the weapon, aimed for the dummy at the distance of five meters. She tested the trigger.
“Definitely not a hair trigger,” she said.
She squeezed hard. The only sound that was heard was the buzzing of the forcefield as something smashed into it a fraction of a second later. The dummy crumbled to the floor, sliced into dozens of parts.
“No need for precision,” said O’Brien.

“Major,” said Baxter as he entered the ready room. Cal’ain was there, waiting for him. He had debriefed her several hours ago. Just a few minutes ago the Comm officer informed him of an alpha priority message from the Admiralty. After the conversation that ensued Baxter summoned Cal’ain to the ready room to brief her on the contents of the message. He’d also called for major Cane, although for him he had a task in mind.
She rose, saluted. “Sir.”
“At ease,” he said.
“I just spoke to High Admiral Parvati.”
“Sir,” she said. Amber Taskforce had a very short chain of command: the commanding officers of the taskforce’s ships and research stations answered directly to High Admiral Alexandra Parvati, the chief of the Admiralty and she in turn answered directly to Systems Coalition Chancellor Isabel Vorino.
“I do not need to tell you how she reacted to the news of the ‘eggs’ we retrieved from Saldana.”
Cal’ain sniffed. “No sir, you do not.”
“Both Toolen, Dellpino and their currently unidentified associate will be transferred over to SI as soon as we dock at Luna Orbital.”
Cal’ain thought about Toolen, currently in the medbay. Doctor Paris assured her that while he was in shock from the trauma and severe blood loss he would make a full recovery. Cal’ain thought that the best news she had heard all day. She had spoken to major Cane, recounted the events for him. It was always hard losing a man under your command, even more so when he was a good soldier like Cargill. A part of her wished she brought the attacker with her instead of Toolen’s partner in crime, so they could have a closer look at that protective suit he wore, to get a clue as to who he was. They had taken samples of DNA from the blood on her protective mask, but her hopes about learning the identity of the man were slim.
“The weapon will be taken to Luna base for study,” Baxter said.
“What about the ‘Saldana’, sir?”
Before leaving for Luna base, ‘Guardian’ had left behind a combat shuttle with a complement of Falcon squad marines to guard the remains of the station.
“The ‘Phoenix’ was dispatched to examine the wreckage and also evacuate the station workers who were manning the excavators on the surface of the planet,” Baxter said. “The SI is already digging for every information on it, but it will come down to the men you apprehended.”
“Not a complete loss then, I suppose,” she said, bitter.
The door opened and major Scott Cane entered, saluted.
“Sir,” he said. Baxter returned the salute.
“I’m needed on the bridge,” the colonel said and left.
“So,” Cane said as the doors closed behind Baxter, “I hear you got one of my men killed.”
Cal’ain looked up, her face clearly showing she did not believe what she had just heard.
“That’s funny,” Cane continued, “Because Valinsky swears it was the unidentified X-ray who did it. Used some fucked-up gun, tore him to pieces. And Valinsky doesn’t have what you might call a vivid imagination. Almost none at all actually.”
Cal’ain scoffed. “I did-“
“You did a good job, Sharon,” Cane interrupted. “You cut your losses and you got your team out alive. And you saved those six people in the stasis pods.”
“I lost Cargill and at least fifty workers died-“
“How is that your fault,” he cut her off again. “It’s not like he attacked him from behind, jumped him like he was some weekend soldier. Cargill died taking the bastard head on. It’s not your fault he couldn’t take him down. Noone’s fault that, from what Valinsky told me, the bastard was armored better than a tank.”
He leaned on the desk beside her. “What’s going on, Sharon? What are you really tearing yourself over here? It’s not Cargill’s death.”
She saw the pale face again. “I sacrificed a man-“
“To save six others. You’ve made choices like that before. It’s never easy, it’s not supposed to be easy but you’re the XO because you can make those choices.”
“I don’t know, Scott,” she said, calm again. “I think it’s the fact they’d been draining him of blood,” she said, cynicism dripping from her voice.
Cane nodded. The military training they received allowed the officers of the SpaceForce to take horrible things in stride – you had to, because other peoples lives depended on you keeping, as Cane’s instructors had frequently pointed out “your shit together” - but every once in a while something happened that you just couldn’t deal with as good, something that just wouldn’t stop screaming for attention. But Baxter couldn’t have this – event - put one of his best officers out of action, especially his Executive officer. So he’d asked Cane, who’d been a close friend of major Cal’ain and an even closer one of Baxter to intervene. And Cane knew exactly what to say.
He moved towards the door. “The colonel needs his XO on the top of her game. The crew depened on you. So you take your time, think this over but once you leave through that door you’d better have dealt with it,” he said matter-of-factly.
Alone in the ready room, Sharon Cal’ain closed her eyes, passed her right hand nervously through her short hair.

“It does what?”
Baxter, Cal’ain and Cane were in the ready room, listening to Rodriguez and O’Brien’s report on the weapon Cal’ain recovered from the dead body of the attacker on Saldana.
Rodriguez turned on the holoprojector and started lighting up parts of the floating image.
“The sphere is just a shell, keeping the filament web tighly coiled. As it passes through the barrel it becomes charged by the electromagnetic rings and passes that charge onto the filaments. Once a certain level of charge is passed over, the web expands.
“So the web is some type of monofilament?” Cal’ain asked. Monofilament wires were in use for some decades now, restricted to purely military use due to both the cost of their manufacture and the fact that they were invisible to the naked eye and could cut through any material.
“No,” said O’Brien. “They are very sharp in themselves, but not nearly as sharp as the monofilament wiring we sometimes use nor as durable, which is actually good.”
“Good?” Baxter asked.
“Yes sir,” Rodriguez said. “Considering the speed with which they’re ejected, a monofilament wire would easily cut through not only erm, marine Cargill in this case but also straight through the rest of the station. The charge is what apparently keeps the filaments sharp enough to provide necessary cutting power and it wears of quickly. Depending on the conductivity of the material it encounters, we suppose. Sir, this needs to be thoroughly tested in Luna base.”
Cane was rubbing his forehead, shaking his head. “Bloody hell,” he murmured.
“The filaments are made of some unknown material. In fact, most of the materials the weapon is made of is not on the periodic chart, sir,” Rodriguez said.
Baxter turned to Cal’ain. “Your report stated he was equipped with some kind of body armor.”
“Yes, sir,” Cal’ain said. “Took both neurolance and particle blasts in stride. A maximum particle blast to the head only made him lose his balance. There was some kind of reaction to each hit, I think he had some type of force-field active.”
The attacker’s face was what she remembered most clearly. The hard jawline, the impassive expression. And the eyes. Cold, despising.
“Personal force-field,” Cane snorted. “I thought we were supposed to get the best toys. Sir, guns that fire razor wire and body armors and headgear that take the damage that you would need a battlesuit to shurg off. Not to mention that he didn’t ping Cargill’s or Valinsky’s sensor-“That might have been due to the room’s shielding,” Rodriguez interrupted.
“Right,” said Cane. “Well, that aside, what I think we should be asking ourselves is where the hell did he get all that from?”

They buried Cargill a day after their return to Earth. There were no eulogies permitted at military funerals, but no words needed to be said. In silence, thrity men of Falcon squad and fifty more of the ‘Guardian’ marine complement, along with Baxter, Cal’ain, Cane, Garner and the Amber Team, all in full dress lined both sides of the hallway through which the casket was carried by six marines to marine corporal Jonas Cargill’s final resting place. After passing through the hallway, the casket was carried into a tube connecting the ‘Guardian’s’ airlock to the military graveyard, a massive dark grey structure slowly rotating in cislunar orbit of Earth where, in the presence of the Falcon squad, Amber Team, the ‘Guardian’ command staff and marine corporal Cargill’s parents and close family, marine Cargill’s body was placed in a steel tomb. Outside, the ‘Guardian’s’ gunners fired a three burst salute as the cover of the tomb closed and another yellow light lit up on the hull of the structure, to shine forever, one among many.

They sat in the garden, playing go. Every so often she would squirm in her seat and shuffle her feet and when she did they would brush against his calves ever so lightly, sending a tiny electric shock through him every time. It was the nearest they could get to playing footsie and DiNirr had often asked her not to do it, afraid that someone might see. She would always smile and call him paranoid and promise not to do it again. She always did.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said. He had told her about Cargill in a letter he sent her while they were still en route to Earth, recovering from the muscle transplant. He didn’t mention the stasis pods nor the man in the chair.
“I uh, I didn’t know him all that well, come to think of it,” he said. It was something he realized during his time in the medbay.
“No?” she asked as her hand hovered over her side of the board. He found himself mesmerized for a moment with the sight of it, the bracelet around her wrist reminding him of the scratch it gave him on his neck just twenty minutes ago, when he almost dragged her into her bathroom. The need for her right then was stronger than he could remember it ever being, the slight but persistent pain of his still healing leg forgotten completely as he took her and gave himself away.
“Well, I mean, he was one of the Falcons and those guys and girls are some of the best people I’ve ever met. But you know how it is, you can work with some people and even get pissed with them-“
“Really?”
“Oh yes, more than once,” he said, smiling as he remembered the first time he was introduced to Falcon squad. How distant had they seemed to him that first time, professional and cold. For some reason he had feared then that he would have to break his back to earn their respect. As it turned out they were as excited as he was about the new assignment ‘Guardian’ recieved. Proud also, at being given the task of protecting ‘SpaceForce’s brightest’ as Parvati called them, handpicked by Garner from the cruiser’s marine complement. First time DiNirr ventured from the science labs to the canteen, they’d sat him down at their table and cajoled him into joining their card game. They would drink shots after every fast-paced match. He still couldn’t remember who won in the end or how he’d gotten back to his quarters.
“Cargill was always there, you know? He’s never at the forefront of any memory I have but he’s always there, in the back, usually with Valinsky. He and Valinsky were almost inseparable, you know? Didn’t talk much, but when he did he used to tell these jokes that nobody got. We always laughed nevertheless, it was the way his face would fill with expectation when he told the punchline.”
He chuckled. “I remember this one time, he wanted to make a bet with Valinsky, daring him to talk with an estuary accent for a full day.”
“How did that work out?” she asked.
“Didn’t. Tomorrow we came upon a ‘nest’ deep inside a cavern system and major Cane put them both on sentry detail outside the only entrance while everyone else was inside, searching the caves. They spent the next twenty four hours with noone to talk to except themselves.”
“That’s not... really funny, Michael,” she said.
He frowned. “Hmm. It was at the time, I guess. You had to be there.”
“The funeral was yesterday,” he said. “We were all there.”
“Did anybody give a speech?”
“No, there are no eulogies at military funerals.”
A pause, then, “Later we all got together in the canteen. Drank to his memory.”
She reached across the table, cupped his hand in hers. They sat in silence.

“I have something for you,” Raphaella Rodriguez said to a dark haired woman as she entered a laboratory the woman was the sole occupant of.
“Yes?” said the woman, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“Yes, a special delivery,” said Raphaella.
“Oh my. I love those,” said the woman, with a smouldering look.
“I think you’ll like it,” Raphaella said, having to bite her lip not to burst into laughter. The woman reached for the package, but Raphaella pulled it back just as the womans’ fingertips touched it.
“Uh-uh. I need a signature first,” she said, trying for a husky voice.
“Would you take something better?” the woman said as she kissed Raphaella on the lips, now barely containing laughter. Raphaella returned the kiss, took a deep breath with her eyes closed.
“That’s very generous of you madam, but I still need the signature,” she sait with a straight face.
“I have a policy of not signing anything. Removing responsibility reduces the stress. Also potential lawsuits are avoidedd,” the woman said.
Raphaella wanted to say something, but couldn’t. They brust into laughter almost simultaneously.
“You’re getting better at this, honey,” the woman said, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Why, thank you, dear,” Raphaella said.
“By the way, very comforting coming from someone in your line of work, the bit about not signing anything. You sound like Rachel, by the way.”
“Rachel was always a smart girl.”
“So, this is it?” the woman said, looking at the box in Raphaella’s arms.
“Yes.”
“Cut right through body armor. That’s-“
“Terrifying. Yes,” Raphaella said.
“Forensic teams are putting the Saldana’s debris through a sieve, looking for the remains of your mystery assailant,” the woman said.
“Anything?”
“Nothing so far. But it’s a big cloud of debris.”
“From what Cal’ain and Valinsky saw, the guy had ‘tech on him that we’ve barely got in early development,” Raphaella said, remembering the testing of the gun on ‘Guardian’.
“It could have been Vareean in origin,” the woman said. “There’s a lot of their ancient ships and lost worlds out there, if the Vareean ambassador is to be believed. He could have raided one, adapted the body armor and the gun to our physiognomy.”
Raphaella grinned. “That’s a diplomatic incident waiting to happen, what you just described.”
“It could be Meddlertech.”
“Yes, we tought of that also. But they’ve never left weapons on seed colonies,” Raphaella said.
“That we know of. Nine out of ten of those we’ve discovered so far had been picked clean by Scavengers.”
“True.”
“So, do you have to rush back to ‘Guardian’?”
“No. We got a three day leave - Calyssa Rodriguez, just what do you have in mind?” Raphaella said, feigning surprise.
Calyssa winked conspiratorially. “Well, it’s been three weeks since we last saw each other. You have certain conjugal responsibilities, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”

In her quarters on Luna base’s underground compound, Rachel O’Brien fell on her bed, seriously considering taking a three day nap, beginning immediately.
The beeping from the communicator on the wall ruined her plans. With a groan she got up and walked up to the video-panel on the distant wall, then punched the ‘On’ key. A man’s face appeared on the video-panel. Rachel did not know him.
“Overlietuenant Rachel O’Brien?”
“Yes. To whom am I speaking?”
“My name is David Weismann. I represent the Tesla-MacMillan corporation.”
“How did you reach me here?”
“We-“
She sighed. “Look, I don’t know why you’re calling but I can venture a guess. I’m not interested. But I’m pretty sure you’re not going to let that dissuade you.”
“There are people we firmly believe are more than worth pursuing, Miss O’Brien,” he said with a smug smile.
“That’s lietutenant O’Brien, thank you. Miss O’Brien is my sister,” she said with a tired frown.
“I apologize,” he said, still smiling.
“Like I said-“
“Your tour of duty is out in a year. We would be very intersted-“
She snorted. “Boy, C-Sec doesn’t have a thing on you guys when it comes to acquiring classified data, do they?”
“We don’t risk legal represcussion just for anybody, lieutenant.”
“I’ll bet. Makes a girl feel really special.”
“We would like to offer you a job once your tour of duty with the SpaceForce Science Department expires.”
“How very nice of you. What makes you think I’d be interested?”
“We’re Tesla-MacMillan, lietuenant.”
“Still a very humble corporation, I see.”
“Look, I don’t feel comfortable-“
“Bullshiting me?”
It seemed he would not be thrown off-balance. She would have to try harder. “The position we are offering is that of head of research in our biotech division on Arthemys.”
Now she was thrown off-balance.
“May I take it from your lack of response that you are interested?” he said after a few moments silence.
“I’m willing not to press the ‘Off’ button just yet.”
“Glad to have your attention at last-“
“Don’t lose it.”
“Of course. Our facility on Arthemys is-“
“Spare me the technical, I’ve been there a year ago.”
“Ah yes, it slipped my mind. Well, the perks that come with the position are-“
“I’m sure they’re more than great. Half the ISX is praying to the Job Fairy to receive a call like this from you.”
“We are the best at what we do. Have been the best at what we do since late nineteenth century. That’s-“
“Modesty is still a desired virtue with you fellows, I see.”
“I would-“
“Look. Honestly? I’m interested. Who wouldn’t be?! But I like what I do and quite frankly, you can’t give me an offer that can beat what I get to do while I’m in the SpaceForce. That, and the boys love the uniform. So call me in a year and maybe I’ll have changed my mind. But right now the answer is ‘go away’.”
“Might I-“
She pressed ‘Off’.

Three days later, ‘Guardian’ was docked at “Pythagoras” station in orbit around Mars.
Baxter had just finished dressing. He wore full dress, officialy required for – manifestations - like the one he was about to attend. After he dressed he exited his quarters. Only a few paces down the hallway he was intercepted by major Cal’ain, also in full dress.
“Sir, is there a way I might be excused from attending?” she asked as they undertook the long walk to the airlock.
“Of course. If you can get an doctor’s note.”
“I might just order Doctor Paris to give me one.”
“I’d love to be there when you try that.”
“There’ll be politicians and officials I suppose,” she said, in her usually dry manner.
“They’re presenting a new generation of fusion drives. What do you think?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. Silly me, sir. Who could miss such an opportunity.”
“Precisely. The new drive is faster, safer and more energy-efficient.  It’s a significant technological progress, a monument to scientific progress and engineering skill. Anyone would be proud to be present at such a pivotal moment in history.”
“Yes, sir. I’m certain they’ll all say that while they’re maneuvering into the best position to have their picture taken.”
“By the way sir, very nice turn of phrase there.”
“It’s a paraphrase of the official invitation.”
Major Cane appeared from an adjacent hallway, saluted.
“Sir. Major.”
“Major,” they responded, almost in unison.
“Off to the banquet, sir?”
“If only,” Baxter said.
“You look very elegant, sir. I’m sure the admiral will approve greatly of your appearance.”
“Don’t push it, Scott. I can still change my mind about who goes with me,” Baxter said.
“Oh, I’m not much for those type of gatherings, sir. You’re much better off with major Cal’ain, sir.”
He got no reaction from the XO at all. He knew what that meant.
“Oh, sir, I’ve got a call from someone a few minutes ago,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Lars Anderson, sir.”
Baxter stopped for a moment, remembering.
“That takes me back,” he said, smiling.
“He’s on the station,” Cane said.
Baxter noticed his XO’s quizzical look.
“He was a close friend of mine while I was at Cambridge,” he said.
“Before you joined the ‘Force and had the Marines make a man out of you, sir,” Cane said.
“I was quite the man prior, Scott.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ve been in contact on and off over the years. He’s in ISX, actually. I’ve introduced him to major Cane a few years back. Where was that?”
“Blue Dawn, sir.”
“Blue Dawn? Are you sure?“
“Yes sir. We were at the bar with the, uh, dancers, sir.”
“Oh. Right,” Baxter said, as memories of dimmed lights and shapely bodies came rushing back.
Cal’ain almost smirked.
“He’s been appointed captain of ‘Pegasus’, sir. She’s going on her maiden voyage tomorrow,” Cane said.
“’Pegasus’?” Cal’ain asked, impressed.
“Major?” Baxter asked.
“It’s one of the new deep space exploratory vessels, sir,” she said. “Part of the Expedition’s five year plan for the galactic arm survey. Brand new class, only three completed so far. State of the art ships.” “As far as ISX goes,” she added.
“Like I said, he’s on the station right now. Asked if we would join him for a drink,” Cane said.
“Well, it would have to be a quick one,” Baxter said.
“Sir, the ‘banquet’?” Cal’ain said, not liking where the conversation was headed.
“Oh, I’ll be there in time,” he said.
“Sir?”
“But just in case there’s a rush, you go ahead and reserve the seats,” he said.
“Sir,” she said, once again deadpan. They reached the airlock and once on the station, she went left, they went right.
“You’re not winning any points with her,” Cane said amusedly.
“I’m her commanding officer, I’m safe. She’ll take it out on the crew,” Baxter said.
“Right you are, sir.”

When they entered the bar, Lars Anderson was the first person they noticed. It was hard not to. Tall, athletic, blonde, dressed in the blues and greens of the ISX uniform and the only one at the bar, flirting with the barmaid.
“Lars, so good to see you’re still up to your old tricks,” said Baxter.
“I’d be careful with this one, love. Don’t open him a tab,” Cane said.
Anderson turned towards them with a huge grin. “Well, well, John Baxter and Scott Cane. You boys still playing at soldiers to impress the ladies?”
“You still trying to get laid off that Nobel prize?” Baxter retorted.
They shook hands, then hugged.
“How long has it been?” Baxter asked.
“Five years, John. Five years,” Anderson said, taking a sip of his beer.
“You guys want anything? I’m buying.”
“A chance not to be missed, sir,” Cane said.
“Indeed,” Baxter said. “Bourbon, straight,” he told the barmaid.
“Vodka,” said Cane. “Don’t bother with the ice.”
“Five years,” Baxter said. “So, what have you been doing with your life?”
“Life as usual in the ISX,” Anderson said. “Exploring strange new worlds, finding fuck’all interesting. What about you? They still haven’t promoted you?”
“I’m staying on that bridge as long as I can, you know that.”
Their drinks arrived and they toasted.
“The ‘Guardian’ still, eh? She’s a pretty girl. For a military ship.”
“Oi, watch it,” Cane said.
“Speaking of, have you seen my new girl?”
“Yes, we did. Passed her while on the shuttle. She’s a beauty,” Baxter said.
“That she is, gentlemen. That she is. Can’t wait to pop her cherry tomorrow.”
“Still with the sex metaphors, Lars?” Cane asked.
“Coming from a marine that’s almost hilarious,” Anderson said.
“So, how’s life in the ‘Force been treating you? Any interesting missions?” he asked.
“No, not really,” Baxter said.
“You know how it is, they promise you excitement and adventure when you sign up and you end up patrolling some backwater sector, praying for a pirate raid just so you don’t die of boredom,” Cane said.
“To think that you’ve joined the Marines after college. Your parents thought you went mad. So did I. You could have joined ISX, you’d have been-“
“Oi, you’ve got something against the Corps, mate?” Cane asked.
Anderson took a sip of his beer, winked at him. “Piss off, Scott.”
“What was it they called the two of you in basic training?” he asked.
“Polars,” Baxter said as Cane chuckled.
Anderson laughed. “Because you were polar opposites, right? I can see why they’d say that. Short and stocky white boy from Lund’n and a black lordling who can change a lightbulb without standing on his toes.”
“Is ‘e tryin’ to start somethin’?” said Cane, mocking his own accent.
“By Jove, I couldn’t possibly say. You know what, I believe he very well is, dash the ruffian,” said Baxter in the worst parody of his own accent he could muster.
“Don’t quit your day jobs, boys,” Anderson said.
A man entered the bar, dressed in an ISX uniform. He approached them, barely acknowledged Baxter and Cane with a look and started to speak to Anderson but was interrupted by him.
“Ah, good. Ryan, good you came,” Anderson said. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“This is Patrick Ryan, my ship genius. Doctor Ryan, these are colonel Baxter and major Cane of the SpaceForce cruiser ‘Guardian’, two of the meanest marines you’ll ever meet.”
Ryan barely nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,” he said, not even trying to be convincing. “I’m professor Patrick Ryan. I’m with the ISX.”
“I gathered as much from the uniform,” Cane said.
There was a silence. Ryan turned towards Anderson.
“I should go, captain. My equipment is still being loaded. The loader crew sometimes doesn’t handle it gently enough. I need to make sure they do. I don’t want to have to repair it.”
“By all means, Patrick, go.”
“Is he always like that?” Cane asked as the doors closed after the man.
Anderson sighed. “He’s a great guy. Genius level intelligence, has more phDs than the entire teaching staff at our alma mater combined, John. He’s just a bit, erm, awkward socially, shall we say.”
“Not very popular at parties, is he then?” Cane asked, finishing another vodka.
“Well, he’ll spend five years with him in deep space, what’s there to party for?” Baxter asked, taking another sip of the bourbon.
“Up yours, guys,” Anderson said, finishing his beer.
Baxter finished his drink. “It was good seeing you, Lars, but I have to go. Tesla-MacMillan is doing a demonstration of the new fusion drive-“
“I know, the news are full of it. Heh, it figures. We launch today, the longest mission in duration and also the one to go farther than any ship before and we get barely a mention in the news. Tesla-MacMillan release a few of the drive improvements they’ve been sitting on for the last six years and get all the coverage. Well, they’ve got better PR than us I guess.”
Baxter and Cane did not say anything. They both knew that the Interstellar Science Expedition, the government funded agency that was created in the early days of interstellar exploration and had in the decades since its inception made countelss discoveries had always taken a back seat in the media to SpaceForce (due to the shadowy Meddler research project) and to Tesla-MacMillan, the corporation that had been responsible for most technological breakthroughs that made Systems Coalition what it was today.
Anderson smiled, waving his hand. “Sorry. It’s just bitterness talking. They never offered me a job.”
It was a three-way struggle between SpaceForce Science Department, Tesla-MacMillan and ISX for the best and brightest minds the human race had to offer.
“Probably too afraid you’d try to shag all the research assistants and bring a giant sexual harrasment lawsuit down on them,” Baxter said.
He patted him on the shoulder, shook his hand. “It was good seeing you, Lars.”
“It was good seeing you, John. Scott.”
“Lars,” Cane said as they shook hands.
“Well, we have to do this again,” Anderson said.
“In five years,” Baxter said.
“Well, maybe sooner sir,” Cane said. “You know how it is with these eggheads, they’ll probably run afoul of some alien race, get kidnapped and we’ll have to rush in and save them from anal probing.”
“Oi, watch it Scott. Your commanding officere here was one of us eggheads once.”
“Yeah, but he got better, didn’t he.”
“I’ll miss you guys. But, some of us have importan discoveries to make.”
“You know, I’ll drink to that,” said Baxter as he signalled the barmaid with his hand.

“Did I miss anything, major?” Baxter asked as he sat down beside his XO. The room was full of men and women in business suits, military full dress and waiter uniforms. There were dozens of reporters, each flanked by a videographer. A whole wall of the room was transparisteel, beyond it the panorama of Mars, its red surface spotty with green patches.
They were in a room on the top of the “Hephaestos shipyard”, among other things Tesla-MacMillan’s primary experimental propulsion R&D facility in the Sol System.
“Nothing of importance, sir. Just a lot of empty talk,” Cal’ain said.
“Tsk, tsk. It’s called small talk, major. Are you alright, major?”
“Fine, sir. It’s just that all these cameras make me a little-“
“Never thought you were camera shy, major.”
“Not shy, sir. I just dislike being used as a PR material.”
“Come now, major. You know they’re more likely to use me than you. I’m the commander of a starship after all.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
Then there were speeches. After twenty minutes and five speakers, Baxter could feel himself assimilating his XO’s sour mood.
Then he noticed some of the reporters talking into their communicators. He could spot agitation at a hundred meters. After a few moments, some of the guests started answering calls on their communicators. The current speaker paused for a moment, noticed that he was losing his audience’s attention.
“What’s all this commotion?” asked an old admiral that sat behind Baxter.
“Good heavens, look at the screen,” said the man in the business suit beside him, pointing at one of the TV screens in the corner of the room.
Baxter looked and saw an image of a starfield and of a shape moving in front of it. There were flashes of blue and white, unmistakeable signs of a forcefield absorbing a particle blast.
“Turn it up, turn it up,” shouted the old admiral.
Someone did, also projecting the image onto the transparisteel wall, now suddenly polarized.
“-the ship is still not responding to hails,” came the bodiless female voice. The image was of a real-time videofeed (hand-held camera on one of the distant planetary orbit stations, Baxter guessed from the quality of the image and position, probably one of the news reporters placed there to film the final stages of the flight of the shuttle with the upgraded fusion drive) of a ship, moving away from Mars and taking sporadic particle canon fire from several fighters. The fighters were SpaceForce C-404s. The ship was the ‘Pegasus’.
Baxter leaned forward, exchanged a look with Cal’ain.
“The SpaceForce is still refusing to give any comment on the crisis at hand,” the female reporter continued,”but as you can see the fighters are firing on the ship. We have unconfirmed reports that they are attempting to disable the ship’s main drive-“
“What in the name-“ Cal’ain said.
“Just a moment – yes, we have something – the ship is – the ‘Pegasus’ is transmiting on all frequencies apparently – we’re listening right now-“
“They should have taken out his ‘field by now,” Cal’ain said. On the screen, additional fighters were converging on the ‘Pegasus’, the ships ‘fields glowing blue from constant barrage.
There was the briefest sound of static, then a familiar voice spoke, making Baxter tense up.
“This is Lars Anderson. I was a captain of the Interstellar Science Expedition vessel ‘Pegasus’. I am now the captain of the Ship of Truth. We of the Truth can no longer abide the treachery and deception that permeate the daily life. We can no longer stand by and watch as the government and its fascist lapdog, the SpaceForce withold advanced technology and cavort with the very alien race that had been abducting innocent humans for centuries. The so-called Meddlers are still out there, they still have a direct influence on the affairs of man. The Systems Coalition is based on lies, lies we’ve been told for decades. The government wants you to live this lie. They’ve place all abduction victims into a gilded cage where they are brainwashed into believeing the government’s propaganda. The SpaceForce is a totalitarian instrument of fascist oppression, stifling any free voice that tries to speak the truth. Well no more. From this moment, the Truth has a voice and this one will not be silenced. This is Lars Anderson of the Ship of Truth. We will bring light into the darkness.”
On the screen, the ‘Pegasus’ vanished in a flash, the fighters breaking off their attack run.
“The ‘Pegasus’, yes, the ‘Pegasus’ has jumped to hyperspace,” said the unseen female reporter. Baxter stopped listening, trying to wrap his brain around what he had just seen and heard.
There was only the briefest moment of calm in the room. Then all the present reporters realized they were in the same room as some of the highest ranking SpaceForce officers. Baxter and Cal’ain managed to exit the room only because the reporters turned on the few admirals present first.