"Money is what you buy with it," Hugh says with a shrug. "I think we can swing a little R&R budget when we get back to Earth. Or all kinds of other perks...I don't know, maybe they can hook us up with houses. Or BMWs."
He pauses for a second, then finishes his dish and gets up.
"I'm going to check on the others. Thanks for the company, Sarge."
"You have sweet dreams there, Cap," Sumo says with a grin. "Hell, I'd be happy with a couple days on a beach and a decent massage." He stretches his massive back for a moment to emphasize the point.
A chuckle escapes the large sarge's lips. "Anytime, boss."
Swims peers at Davis. "Perhaps I should come down to the hold to save your breath. Unless your plan is just for my gentle ears?"
---
Max's pistol whispers a third time as the fleeing tech shoulders into him. The man stumbles and slides to a stop in front of the doors. He's moaning a little and writhing and bleeding and definitely not doing anything else.
Staring down a stealth gun and a stinger, the would-be cunning tech steps back from the console, hands up. "Uh... I... um... if you, uh, give up, they probably'll just put you in the Arena," the guy says, flinching. His two compatriots remain huddled behind the cover of their consoles.
The door to the control room slides open. The two Turai who were guarding the room look down at the dying tech perishing in a bloody pool right in front of them. Then they look up at Max, who's standing with a handgun in each hand amidst two more dead men.
"Whoa! Drop the shit!" the one Max spoke to earlier shouts, snapping his beamer up at the action scientist. His partner seems a little more apprehensive about drawing down on (presumably) a fellow Imperial, but he also raises his weapon, taking cover in the doorway.
"Considering the plan involves blowing up the Morningstar, I thought I should propose it to you first out of courtesy." Davis waits for a moment for that to sink in, then continues. "It's too hot, and you know it. Believe me, I know how attached you are to her, I spent five months taking the slow way back from Iran, learning all about the love between a captain and his ship, but you have to know that every Imperial world has her picture on the wall. I know it'll be cold comfort, but I promise that I will get you a new ship, and I take my promises seriously. Alright?"
"This is my HOME!" Davis' idle thoughts realize that Swims' reply was nearly all vocalized, indicating the maximum level of emphasis. The Whiirr's fur shifts to danger levels of red and maroon as the shipmaster slams Davis into the side of the CiC.
"You have convinced me to fight my former masters. You would convince me to sacrifice my ship - my home - all I have built since leaving the Arena... What is next? My life? Shall I die so you can flee to another hole? This could all been avoided if you people could walk ten feet without shooting someone!"
Swims throws Davis to the deck and punches the hex-pattern holoemitters where the spook's head was. Once, twice, thrice, until a faint layer of alien blood smears the dented panel.
Swims' shoulders slump, and the visible anger deflates the massive beast as it leaves as quickly as it came.
"No... you are right. My ship is gone, WAS gone since Gran's Hope. I have been in here thinking, trying to figure out how I could keep some semblance of the life before you people. I have no answers."
With the inevitability of an unloved season, Hugh climbs up to the cockpit just as Swims calms down from nearly ripping the spook's head from his shoulders.
"Smooth, Davis," Hugh says in English. He turns to Swims-the-Black. "I assume Davis proposed using the Morningstar as a decoy?"
He considers that for a moment.
"It just has too big a profile. Even if we do not destroy it, we would have to leave it behind here. But I don't think that's a suitable scenario. The chances of recovering it at a later date are slim and if the Imperium finds it hidden here, they might glean clues from it...we simply do not have the time to sanitize the whole ship. We need to move fast, and as much as I hate thinking it, blowing up the Morningstar in full sight of the Imperium would be a hell of a distraction.
If the thought is of any solace to you, we could use the Morningstar as a flying bomb against an important Imperial target in the city. Something that would make the Morningstar more than just a ship - something that makes it a symbol. What the resistance needs is symbols, events that show how the Imperium can be brought low...and the Morningstar could be a powerful sign indeed."
Davis stays where he is, hands up in a defensive posture. "I know that out of all of us, you've given up the most, Swims-the-Black. I know that what I'm asking isn't fair, that it isn't right. But things haven't gone according to plan, and it's the only way that we can get out of here."
He pushes himself up off the wall. "Back on Earth, I was working with a group of rebels in...well...it wasn't a good place. They just wanted to be able to defend themselves and live in peace, but in order to do that, they had to take on an enemy that was much bigger than they were. Their enemy was our enemy, so I was sent in to provide them weapons and assistance. It all went bad, though, and I was pulled out minutes before a major counter-attack was launched." Davis gets angry. "I had to watch from a helicopter as people that I had lived and fought with for nine months were slaughtered, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it."
He looks Swims square in the eyes. "I know what happens when I hang people out to dry, and I will never let that happen again. When I say to you that I will find you a new ship and I will help you build a new home, you'd better believe that I mean every word of that. I'm done with showing up, using who I have to to accomplish some obscure mission, then throwing them away like garbage. I'm here for as long as it takes. I will help you get your life back, Swims-the-Black. I'll stake my life on that."
"Send it towards the Gate," Swims says sadly. "Fire all the decoys, if it can get close enough to the Needleship you might combine the best of both plans. If... if they are true about wanting you alive, they will attempt to disable Morningstar. Explosives MUST be used to cover our tracks."
"I will gather my things and explain it to One-Ton. His reaction will be less forgiving than my own. Then I will need Luis' help plotting a trajectory."
Luis hears the commotion from his bunk. In the yells, he catches only a few words, but "explosives" and "sly" are enough to get him (reluctantly) climbing out of his bunk.
As he rubs his tembles, he mutters to himself, slipping between English and Imperium as he stumbles to the mess for whatever he can get in the way of coffee.
...figures they'd *start this* right when I was about to actually *fall asleep*...
"I said, send it towards the orbital Gate," Swims repeats. "It will be shot down wherever it will be shot down, but if all its drones go with it they can perhaps keep Morningstar alive long enough to deal some damage to the Needleship. And there will be no ground targets to worry about."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Hugh agrees. "If we had more time, I'd let everyone get some sleep...but Max's actions don't leave us with much of a window. We need to start moving gear and rigging the Morningstar now."
Davis nods. "I'll go talk to our new friends and explain the plan. And Swims, I want to be there when you talk to One-Ton. I have a few questions for him, and I think I should be there when he gets told that we have to sacrifice the Morningstar." He starts to walk down the stairs, then looks back at Swims. "I don't know if I can make this right, but I'm damn well going to try."
He then walks down to the cargo bay. "Alright, we've got a plan from Captain Verrill. We're going to rig the Morningstar to explode, and then send it towards the needleship at full speed. Is there anyone here that knows how to wire or program a ship for remote control?"
Jonnoperest speaks up. "It's not hard to wire it up, but you lose precision as the distance increases. A second or two's worth of latency is enough to flatline your ability to jink. 'Course, you're flying it towards a Needleship so it'll end up blown to bits anyway."
"So they will think us dead after a desperate attempt to reach the orbital Gate," Onas muses. "To reduce suspicion, perhaps we should follow the freighter in the black flitcraft as if we were in pursuit. It would let us remote it with far greater accuracy."
"As long as they don't figure it's being slaved to the Snatcher," Jonnoperest says. "Better to just wait 'em out a few more days after it all goes down or try to skip out to Atea in the confusion."
"Damn, Doc," he mutters under his breath, "we were almost clear..."
He turns to Swims-the-Black with an apologetic expression. The last few days weigh heavily on him - no, strike that, the last few years. Ever since that ambush in Basra...
"We will get you a new ship, Captain."
---
The AC in the Humvee coughs an asthmatic current of lukewarm air at Hugh's face, but the 1st Lieutenant has his eyes scanning the side of the road as they lead the convoy from Basra International into town. A bump from the suspension makes the CD player on the back seat skip, which makes Hugh listen to the catchy pop tune for the first time.
And so
Everybody's gone to war
But we don't know what we're fighting for
Don't tell me it's a worthy cause
No cause could be so worthy...
He turns to the back seat, briefly meeting the glance of Corporal Stanhill before his eyes move on to Specialist William "Bill" Coffin.
"Spec," Hugh begins, "anything else on that disc of yours?"
"Yes Sir, all the classics," Coffin begins with a shit-eating grin. "War, The End, In The Army Now, Rooster..."
"Well," Hugh replies, cutting Coffin off. "You either put something decent in that thing or you kill it."
"I don't know," the driver says; Hugh's head swivels around to look at PFC Stein, who's already deeply regretting that he ever joined this discussion.
"You got an opinion, Stein?" Hugh asks.
"I kinda like In The Army Now, Sir," he explains. "You know, that whole," he begins to sing, "The Sergeant calls..."
"...stand up and fight!" Coffin shouts enthusiastically. "Yeah, that's badass."
"Whatever," Hugh says. "Chuck that shit, Coffin. Everybody else, eyes on the road."
Luis Stanhill doesn't have to be told; his eyes never stopped watching. And that's why he sees it, that's why he ducks, that's why he shouts.
BOOM and everything is sideways upside down dark and spinning and SCREEEEECH and groaning and sparking and then they come to a stop.
Hugh's ears still ring when his eyes flutter open, and for a second there it seems like the world is ringing because there's no other sound. His right hand grasps for hold and grabs something slimy; he looks at it and sees a fish in his hand. He's lying in the remains of a market stand, with the flipped-over Humvee on the side of the road. The other side of the market has a small fire from the explosion, and people are running around, looking for shelter. He sees soldiers pop out of the other vehicles in the convoy, M4s at the ready, rushing to secure the scene.
It's a testament to Hugh's imagination that he can vividly see them get cut down in a hail of sniper fire and mortar explosions while he lies there. It would've made a great action scene, but nothing further happens; the soldiers have their guns out and trained at anything that could hide enemies, but this was just a single bomb, Hugh knows that already. Just a dumb little IED.
He looks back at the flipped Humvee; Coffin helps Stein climb out through the busted windshield, neither looking injured. For a second, Hugh's eyes frantically scan the scene for Stanhill. He was on Hugh's side of the Humvee...oh, Jesus, no, fuck...
Stanhill steps out from behind the Humvee wreck, slinging the emergency first aid kit over his shoulder then rushing for Hugh. The young Corporal slides to a stop next to Hugh and crouches down, tapping Hugh's helmet to get his attention. He's shouting something...more ringing. When did they all forget how to talk?
"All depends on if they'd want to question us after the chase and give us a 'reward'. We don't want any additional suspicion on us right now, we're going to be cutting it close enough as it is." Davis pauses a second, then picks up on something. "What's Atea?"
"Bashakran worldship," Jonno answers. "Kind of like a shadowport that moves. Too big for spacegate travel. Atea typically keeps a few light-weeks from the nearest spacegate, but it has a personal Gateway inside it."
---
"I believe you and Davis, Captain," Swims-the-Black says.
"Whoa! Drop the shit!" the one Max spoke to earlier shouts, snapping his beamer up at the action scientist. His partner seems a little more apprehensive about drawing down on (presumably) a fellow Imperial, but he also raises his weapon, taking cover in the doorway.
Max spins and fires at the two Turai as the Imperial soldiers click harmlessly away with their IFF-slaved weapons. It's just not one of those scenarios they go over in training, and they pay for it. Max's stinger buzzsaws through metal and flesh, leaving the first Turai slumped in the doorway. The second soldier throws his arms in front of him - he's left with raw meat and shrapnel and goes down screaming.
Max has to work fast. He pushes one of the tech's corpses off the primary console and taps out one of the Gate codes from the control room's logs. Something that doesn't ring any "danger" bells from what Arketta and Hethna Varos told them all those weeks ago.
Sambasan. Davis' henchwoman's from there. Said something about archaeology and religion being the main exports. Why not?
Max keys in the code for Sambasan and wrecks the console with a quick whine from the stinger. Exhorting the remaining techs to "Stay the fuck DOWN!", Max exits the control room and pushes off the far corridor wall. An attack drone's gliding down the hallway towards him. Its twin-linked stingers are grinding away impotently as the IFF circuits in Max's armor prevent his messy death for a second time.
Don't have to worry about drones then. If I run, I might be able to get by them before they all switch to swords or something...
Max runs. He runs for the access hatch back into the main Gate annex and spots three Turai bursting into his maintenance hallway. They pause as their HUDs blink "friendly" when they sweep their beamers across the action scientist. Max squeezes the trigger on his stinger. One Turai goes down, his face ripped to shreds. A second flings himself prone to avoid the tornado of steel penetrators, while the third catches a stream of slivers across his arm and chest but survives.
Max's stinger empties its payload and a red glyph flashes on his HUD. The two Turai get back up and draw their swords while Max slaps the empty sidearm back on his leg and pulls the beamer from his back. Max's already been shunted from their vox network - all the running and shooting's given the Imperials time to clear him without any resistance. It's a good chance his armor's native IFF will be cleared any moment.
Max sights down the stripped beamer and blasts both Turai. He sees an arm come clean off, spattering the corridor with gore. His second shot blasts a smoking ragged crater through the second man's armor and spins him around before planting him facefirst on the floor.
Max heads for the Gate annex. The heartbeat in his ears is overshadowed by the din of a mob stampeding for the Gate portal, the hellish whine of attack drones, and the wet whumps of beamers hitting soft targets. It's a madhouse.
"Well, I'd have to think that the Imperium will be recording and verifying all personal Gateway travel after this, so we should probably wait to get off-world before we worry about going there. I think we should do the first thing you mentioned, move to a different, more secure location, wait a few days, and then just head through the orbital Gate," Davis says. "I'll be down to help work on that, but right now, I have to break the news to the rest of the crew."
Davis plods back up the stairs to Swims. "Alright, let's get this over with," he says.
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