Chapter 14

Gath stood outside the main entrance to Triad Naval Base, looking at the time on his commer impatiently. It was now 0348 hours Universal Time, only fifty-two metric minutes before Gath was expected to report for duty at the hospital down in Libby. It was no longer even possible for him to make it there in time, but that was not what he was worried about. Yank was supposed to have been here before 0300. She had assured them she would be here by 0300. And she wasn’t here yet.

Gath tried comming her again. And, like the other ten times he had commed in the past forty-eight metric minutes, the comm went directly to her message server. Where in the purg is she? The climber from Eden that she and the two Norcals had been booked on had docked at the civilian port at 0190 hours, right on schedule. There had been no strife or other incidents at the docks today—he had checked both with the media service and with Taz, who had access to the intelligence feed of the marine units stationed there. There were no conceivable delays. So where in the purg was she?

“Torkin’ scientists,” Gath muttered, glaring at the time display. If she did not show up in the next forty minutes or so, he was going to have to shut his commer down and retreat inside the Magnum to hide. He could count on maybe forty or fifty minutes after he failed to arrive at Libby and after he failed to answer any comms from the CO before being officially declared AWOL. Once that happened, however, a tracking order would go out system wide and he would be found if he walked in front of any security camera, used his fingerprint to open any network linked door (and there were few doors on a military base that weren’t network linked), or turned on his commer long enough for it to lock onto a repeater.

His commer suddenly chimed, indicating an incoming face to face request. He looked at it, hoping it was Yank, but it was only Taz. He answered and beheld her face, its features showing clear impatience.

“Hey, Taz,” he said.

“Where the tork are you?” she demanded. “Don’t you know what time it is?”

“I’m standing outside the base, right where I’m supposed to be,” he told her. “Yank hasn’t shown up yet.”

“What the tork?” Taz said. “Did you comm her?”

“No, Taz,” he said sarcastically. “That didn’t occur to me.”

Taz took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay ... sorry,” she said. “What did she say when you commed her?”

“She didn’t say slag,” he told her. “It keeps going directly to the message server.”

She shook her head angrily. “Torkin scientists,” she spat. “What the purg could she possibly be doing?”

“I don’t know,” Gath said. “It sure as slag doesn’t take more than twenty minutes or so to walk from the civilian docks to here. Maybe those torkin’ Norcals she’s with killed somebody’s dog or something and they’re all in the Triad jail.”

“Now there’s a pleasant thought,” Taz said.

“With that group, anything is possible,” Gath told her.

“Well, Ox says to give it another twenty-five minutes. If she’s not there by then, haul your slagger back to the ship and we’ll start getting ready to haul all of our slaggers out of here. Remember, once you’ve been declared AWOL, they’re going to know that the last place you were was TNB. That’s where they’re going to start looking for you and when they don’t find you, they’ll start thinking to take a look at the ships at anchor.”

“I know,” Gath said. “I’ll give her twenty-five more minutes. That’s a hard deadline.”

They broke the comm and Gath went back to waiting. He was agitated because they’d already extended their first so-called hard deadline so he could wait for Yank and the two Norcals. They had originally planned to be long gone by now, to be well clear of TNB before Gath’s AWOL status was discovered. Yank, however, had been unable to secure the seats she wanted on the passenger climber that had come up seven hours before the one she ultimately booked. It wasn’t that they had no seats available—that at least would have been understandable. It was that they hadn’t had any first-class seats available; the seats on the upper deck that could fold back into a small couch and where the drinks and food were free. She was not a snob, she assured Gath when she told him this news, it was just that Cedric had a bad back and complained of discomfort if he had to sit too long in a seated position. After all, they were a people who were not accustomed to sitting long periods, were they?

“Torkin’ scientists,” Gath muttered again, watching another one hundred seconds tick over and recycle.

Another fifteen minutes (and three comm attempts) went by and Gath was just about resigned to having to leave the ditsy scientist and her two friends behind when she suddenly appeared at the bottom of the ramp that led up to the main base access tunnel. She was dressed in a fashionable pair of shorts and short-sleeved pullover shirt that did not quite match. Her hair was long and flowing, much longer than a military length female haircut. The way her large breasts bounced and jiggled told Gath she had not bothered with a restraint garment. With her were the two Norcals, their eyes looking around nervously and suspiciously at everything and everyone. They were both dressed in civilian clothing consisting of shorts and brief shirts. Their multiple tattoos, including military rank and the depiction of The Watcher, were plainly visible on their arms.

“Yank!” Gath barked at her, waving his hand to get her attention. They were going to have to hurry. And she still did not even know why he really wanted her here. Just torkin’ prime.

“Gath!” she squealed happily, rushing forward to greet him. When she arrived, she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly.

He returned the embrace and then pulled back from her. “Where the purg have you been?” he asked. “You were supposed to be here by three.”

“Oh,” she said lightly, dismissively, “sorry about that. We stopped and had an early breakfast at the Cinnamon Club over in the Parkview district. They serve the most wonderful eggs benedict you have ever had. It’s a groundborn couple who own the place and they specialize in...”

“Breakfast?” Gath said. “You stopped for breakfast? And that took you and hour and a half?”

“Well, of course not,” she said. “I also took them on a walking tour around the botanical gardens in the Symphony district and then we simply had to make a quick trip over to the Kilgore Building so I could show them where the plot between Laura Whiting and General Jackson to revolt against Earth was first hatched. They still have what is supposed to be the actual table they sat at in the old restaurant there.”

Gath took a few deep breaths, resisting the urge to scream at her. After all, she did not know that they were under a timeline and that a plot was afoot that depended on that timeline. True, she had displayed rudeness, but she knew not what she had almost done.

“All right,” he said, calmly. “You’re here now, that’s the important thing. I tried comming you multiple times. They all went to the message server.”

“Oh ... really?” she said, confused. “I don’t know why that would be.” She pulled her commer from her belt and looked at it. “Oh...” A shrug. “I guess I forgot to charge it. The battery is dead.”

“You forgot to charge it?” Gath asked. Nobody forgot to charge their commer in this day and age. The torkin’ battery lasted the better part of a cycle on a single charge and the machine would warn you repeatedly and in several different ways when it started to get low. “Didn’t you hear the low battery warning?”

“Now that you mention it, I might’ve heard something like that earlier.”

“And the red warning text whenever you looked at a holo?”

“Well ... yes,” she said, “but you can usually get another Sol or so out of a charge when that starts to appear.”

“It only takes ten minutes to charge a commer, Yank,” he said, exasperated.

Another shrug. “Sometimes things slip my mind,” she said. “What’s the big deal?”

Again, he had to remind himself that she did not really know what was going on. “No big deal,” he said. “At least not now.”

By this time the two Norcals had made their way up to their position. They were standing behind Yank, their eyes flitting around to the people on the platform and then back to Gath. Their expressions were one of nervousness mixed with aggression. In their hands they carried simple suitcases.

“Gath,” Yank said, turning to them, “let me introduce you to my friends. This...” she indicated the taller of the two “ ... is Cedric, and this...” she indicated the shorter, stockier one, “ ... is Tom. They were both privates in the Norcal army that were involved in that little skirmish you had in Crescent City.”

“Welcome, humes,” Gath said, holding out his elbow to exchange the traditional spaceborn introductory elbow bump. Apparently, they had been taught this as they both engaged him, though it was far from enthusiastic.

“How do you do?” grunted Cedric, his accent thick and unlike any accent Gath had ever heard before.

“Pleased to meet you,” grunted Tom, who sounded far from sincere, his accent even thicker.

“Nice to meet you as well,” Gath returned.

“You all have something in common, you know,” said Yank brightly.

“Oh?” Gath said.

“Yes,” she said. “You were all wounded in the battle at Crescent City. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Fascinating,” Gath said. “Listen, how about we...”

“How were you wounded?” asked Cedric, his eyes probing into Gath.

“I took a thirty round in the leg,” Gath replied. “It blasted through my armor and almost took my leg off.”

The two warriors considered this for a moment and then nodded. “I was struck in the leg and shoulder,” Cedric said. “I would have died had your medical people not fixed me with their witchcraft.”

“And I was struck in the stomach by one of your rounds after we killed the running overseer,” said Tom. “I too would have died.”

Gath glanced at Yank who gave a slight shake of the head to him. It seemed they still thought they had killed him and she did not want them to know the truth. He decided on the spur of the moment to play along. “Your people fought well there,” he lied. “Without our armor and our training and our air assets and our sensors, we would have been defeated.”

“Without doubt,” Cedric said, not catching the sarcasm in the least.

“We were somewhat upset that the treatment we received eliminated our battle scars,” said Tom. “Such scars are badges of honor.”

“It’s better to have no scar than to be dead, right?” asked Gath.

They both shrugged. “There are some who would say that, I suppose.”

“Uh ... yeah, I guess so,” Gath said. He turned back to Yank. “Listen,” he told her, “we’re going to board the ninety-nine ship Magnum to do the ... uh ... documentary. Everyone is waiting for us so we need to shag slagger there right now.”

“Right now?” Yank asked, upset. “But I was hoping to give Cedric and Tom a tour of the naval base, show them the tunnels where the Martian troops infiltrated the base, the anchorages where the pre-positioned armor carriers were launched, the access tunnels where the main battle of the base...”

“Perhaps you can show them all that later, Yank,” Gath told her. “Right now, we’re under a bit of a deadline.”

“Well ... okay,” she said reluctantly. She turned to her two friends. “Sorry, Cedric, sorry, Tom. We’ll have to make that tour later.”

“We understand,” said Cedric sourly. It was clear he did not give a waste rodent’s slagger about the historical significance of a place he had never even heard of and a history he did not care about.

Fortunately, the base was a major tourist attraction and, as such, it was not a problem getting Yank and the two Norcals inside—although they did receive more than a few strange looks. They made their way down the newer access tunnel into the main portion of the base and from there to the corridor that led to the docks on the outer perimeter. Here, security was in effect. Each checkpoint was guarded by armed marines who controlled access. This is where Ox came into the picture. Alerted by a comm text from Gath, he met them at the first checkpoint.

“This group is with me,” he told the two marines on duty. “They’re here for a personal tour of my vessel.”

The two marines looked at the group in question, paying particular attention to the two Norcals, and then back at Ox. “Are you sure?” one of them asked.

“Of course, I’m sure,” Ox barked at them in his command voice. “I’ve invited them aboard personally so they may see my vessel and that we might make a documentary about the plight of the homebodies on Earth. This has all been cleared through channels.”

The two marines shrugged. After all, they were a corporal and a private respectively and this was a naval lieutenant commander—the captain of a warship—telling them it was okay. Who were they to question him?

“Very good, commander,” the corporal said. “If you’ll all just lay some derm on the pad for us?”

They all laid some derm, one by one. Since all were known by the computer system and since Ox himself had put in orders authorizing their passage into the secure area, there was nothing for the marines to question. At least not right there.

“Okay,” Ox said as they made their way down the corridor toward their destination. “If the clock wasn’t ticking before, it sure as slag is now.”

“How so?” asked Gath.

“If either one of those marines gets a little curious and decides to check out my story with base operations, they’re going to have some serious questions for us.”

“Do you think that likely?” Gath asked.

“Probably not, but when we’re dealing with some slag like what we’re trying to pull off, you take every possibility into account.”

Yank was now looking a little confused. “Uh ... if I might ask,” she said, “what exactly is going on here? Why are you talking about stories and serious questions about them?”

“I’m afraid we’ve been a little less than completely honest with you, Yank,” Gath said as they hurried down the corridor.

“Oh?”

“We’re not really making a documentary.”

“We’re not? Then what are we doing?”

“We’ll explain it all to you in a few minutes, once we’re aboard the Magnum,” Gath assured her. “And you and both of your friends will be given opportunity to decline the mission if you should choose to do so.”

“I ... I see,” Yank said. “I assume this mission you’re talking about is not one that Far Space Command has exactly approved of.”

“That would be a good assumption,” Ox told her. “Now let’s all just keep demonic for now. No more conversation until we’re aboard. Everyone just walk like we have every right in the world to be here.”

They did as Ox commanded and reached the entry tunnel marked HSF Magnum less than five minutes later. The entrance was guarded by a female spacer third class. The embroidery on the left breast of her shirt identified her as T. WILLIGINS. On her right breast was the logo and service number of the Magnum. On her leg was a holstered Z-40 defensive weapon—the shorter, naval variant of the Z-55. Her job was to control access to the ship, log in visitors who were authorized, and deny entry to those who were unauthorized. With a single push of a button on her desk she could summon every MP on the base to her location within a matter of minutes.

“Captain,” she greeted, giving him a nod.

“Willie,” Ox returned, nodding as well.

And with that, they walked past her desk and into the access tunnel. None of them put their fingers on her authorization screen.

“Willie is one of my people,” he explained as they reached the main personnel hatch just below the bridge level. “Everyone on the ship now is in on the plan and will be going with us. All the other personnel have the night off.”

“Going with us?” asked Yank, becoming more alarmed by the second. “Where exactly are we going?”

“As I said, Yank,” Gath told her. “We’ll explain all that in a few minutes and you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

The main hatch was standing open and they entered what was known as the foyer of the ship. It was a reception area with a few tables scattered about and a small holo desk adjacent to the hatch where, in more normal times, a member of the ship’s security crew could check authorization for those personnel trying to leave the vessel. The room was small and steep stairways led both upward and downward. Ox led them up and they climbed through a claustrophobic stairway and emerged through another hatch labeled DECK 4 into a tiny corridor with doors on both sides—two doors on the right (labeled OFFICER MESS and WARDROOM) and one on the left (labeled REC 1). Ox led them to the wardroom door and put his finger on the panel, allowing it to slide open. Here was a tiny room consisting of two long tables with chairs bolted to the floor, a large holo stage at the front of the room, and an industrial beverage dispenser on the far wall. Sitting at one of the tables were two very familiar faces.

“Yank,” said Gath, nodding in the direction of the two men. “I believe you know these two humes.”

Yank’s mouth dropped open in amazement as her brain processed who she was looking at. “It ... it can’t be,” she said, shaking her head.

“It is,” Gath said, smiling at her reaction.

“Quarterback Fears No Darkness?” she asked. “Catches No Fish? Is it really you?”

“It is really us, Yank of the Star People,” Fears No Darkness said, standing and facing her completely.

“But ... but ... how ... why ... what are you doing here?”

“Your friend, Gath of the Star People, convinced us that we could help put an end to the plot against our people,” Fears No Darkness replied.

“You ... you mean you rode on a starship all the way to Mars?” she asked incredulously.

“We did,” the quarterback said. “But first, we rode two times on your hover aircraft, once on a scramjet aircraft, and once on a frightening though fascinating surface to orbit craft.”

“But your law,” Yank said. “Won’t you be ... you know ... condemned to death for riding in our machines?”

“It is entirely possible,” Fears No Darkness allowed. “Still, I believe it is worth the risk if it might prevent our people from being exterminated by yours.”

The emotion overtook Yank. “Oh my Whoever!” she squealed, tears flowing out of her eyes now. She rushed forward and took the quarterback in her arms, hugging him tightly to her, so tightly it seemed he was having trouble breathing. When she was done hugging him she turned her attention to Catches No Fish and did the same.

The two Norcals, in the meantime, stood in the corner of the wardroom, their baggage still in hand, their faces showing confusion and a little hostility. It seemed they had no idea what was going on here, but they certainly did not like it.

Yank finally broke the embrace and turned back to Gath. She had tears in her eyes and running down her face—a face choked with emotion. “You brought them here, Gath?” she asked.

“It was my doing,” he confirmed.

“Why?” she asked. “You know that you’ve put their lives in danger by doing this, right? That their law prohibits them from utilizing any of our machines, from flying in our craft, from even eating our food?”

“As Fears No Darkness said,” Gath told her. “I thought the risk was worth the cause. These two warriors are going to help us put a stop to the concluding resolution before it is allowed to take hold completely.” He turned to the two Norcals. “You two are going to help us with that as well.”

“How?” Yank asked. “What is you plan?”

“Why don’t we sit down and discuss it?” Gath suggested, waving to the table.

“Well ... okay,” Yank said.

“In the meantime,” said Ox. “I’m going to start making preps to get us the tork out of here. Gath, let me know if they decide not to participate.”

“Will do, Ox,” Gath responded.

Yank, Cedric, and Tom all sat at the wardroom table, Yank across from the two warriors and next to the Norcals. Gath sat at the head of the table, between Fears No Darkness and Yank, where he could see everyone’s face.

“All right,” Gath said, “our time is short so I won’t mince words. Captain Ox, who you just met, and the rest of us are planning to steal this space vessel and make a run for the circuit point so we can get out of this system and reach an area of space where we can spread the word about what is going on here and hopefully put a stop to it.”

Yank blinked slowly as she absorbed this. “You want to steal a Fleet warship?” she finally asked. “That is what this is all about?”

“Well ... maybe borrow is a better word,” Gath amended. “We do plan to give it back when we’re done.”

“I’m sure the pursuing vessels and the courts martial will appreciate the distinction,” she said.

Gath shrugged. “That only comes into play if we fail. We’re kind of hoping not to fail.”

Yank took a deep breath. “Tell me your plan,” she said.

“We plan to clear the circuit point and make it through the First Cross system and into the First Cross Prime circuit point. From there, we’ll have to secure some fuel and then make it another three jumps to the Redreams system. That is the first system with a significant groundborn planetary population.”

“Redreams Four,” Yank said, nostalgia showing in her eyes. “I spent two cycles there once.”

“Yes,” said Gath, “I hear it’s a really slaggy place. So ... anyway...”

“That’s not entirely true,” interrupted Yank. “They have one of the largest alluvial river delta systems in known space on Redreams Four. It stretches over nearly two hundred thousand square kilometers at the mouth of the Big River where it flows into the Primary Ocean.”

“Uh ... yes, I’ve heard about that,” Gath said. “They say it’s very nice. So, anyway...”

“The city of Vincent sits right at the proximal end of that mouth,” Yank continued. “It’s only six hundred kilometers from the space ladder—it’s the equatorial region, you know—and the architecture of their downtown region is a classic example of late...”

“Uh ... Yank,” Gath cut in.

“Yes?” she asked.

“How about we stick to the subject at hand here?”

She nodded. “Of course. Sorry. Sometimes my mouth starts running and I just can’t stop it. We really should make a point to visit Vincent however, if we should get the time. I’m sure Fears No Darkness and Catches No Fish will be very impressed.”

“Well ... maybe on the way back,” Gath said. “You see, we’re not going to pause long in the Redreams system. We’re just going to try to refuel and then spread the word to the groundborn there. Once that word is spread, we bust slagger to the next system—Sirius—and do the same. We keep this up until we get to Alpha Zulu itself. That is where our friends here come in.” He waved to indicate the natives.

“We come in how?” asked Cedric, his eyes mistrustful, nervous.

“Not just you two, but Catches No Fish and Fears No Darkness as well,” Gath said. “I want to present the four of you to the groundborn media, first and foremost, but I also want to present you to the spaceborn government humes. I want them to meet you, to interview you, to hear your points of view on your lives and your planet. I want them to know ... to see that they are dealing with human beings and not savages. I want them to empathize with the people they are proposing to exterminate.”

Yank was beaming at his speech. “That’s a wonderful idea!” she declared. “I think it will be just what is needed to halt this horrible plot!”

Cedric and Tom, however, did not look too sure.

“You want me to share my point of view?” Cedric asked.

“Yes,” Gath agreed.

“I do not see how that is going to help anything,” Cedric said. “My point of view is quite upset with yours. Your people parade among us pretending to be overseers sent by the Watcher. You mock our very religion. You use your military technology to prevent our settlement of territorial disputes on our borders, to prevent us from keeping law and discipline among our own people. And then, after wounding us in one of your interventions, as you call them, you take us away from our homes and force us to live on a different planet where we know no one and we are expected to act in a manner according to laws and rules we were not raised with and do not believe in.”

“Uh ... yeah,” said Gath. “Sorry about that.”

Tom’s eyes widened in anger. “You are sorry about that?” he nearly yelled. “That is all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Gath returned. “I am not responsible for the situation you have found yourself in. I would hazard to say that you are not responsible for it either. My people have a saying. ‘It is what it is.’ That is what we’re dealing with here.”

Cedric was shaking his head. “I do not see the value in what you propose,” he said. “I would prefer to be taken back to the colony we have been placed in than to travel through the hole in the sun to meet more of your people.”

“As would I,” agreed Tom.

Gath nodded. “That is certainly your right,” he said, “and we will, of course, honor that request if that is what you wish, but please tell me something before you go.”

“What is that?” asked Tom.

“Do you want the whole of the native Earth population to be sterilized? This would include your families, your friends, everyone you know. Do you want that?”

“Of course not,” Tom said. “What your people propose is an atrocity before the Watcher.”

“Then help me put a stop to it,” Gath said. “Come with me to Alpha Zulu, talk to our government, tell them about the life you lived on Earth, the life you left behind, the life your families and friends are still living. Tell them about it and make them see that it is something worth saving.”

Tom continued to glare at Gath, his eyes mistrustful. He turned to Fears No Darkness and Catches No Fish. “Where did they capture you?” he asked them.

“We were not captured,” Fears No Darkness said, clearly offended by the very suggestion. “We are on this mission voluntarily and in violation of our law, I might add, because we think it is important and Gath of the Star People has explained to us that our contributions might assist in putting a stop to the extermination.”

Tom’s eyebrows went up. “Is that a fact?” he asked.

“It is,” Fears No Darkness assured him.

“Well, where did you volunteer from then? You look a little like the mountain dwellers that raid our eastern sides, and that makes you flesh eaters.”

“We are Modoc warriors,” Fears No Darkness told him, emphasizing both words. “We live in the far corner of California, in our traditional hunting grounds on the Pit River, near the peak known as Lassen.”

“None of that means shit to me,” said Tom. “Do you deny being flesh eaters?”

“We live off the land, as our ancestors did for hundreds of generations before us,” the quarterback said. “Unlike your so-called people...”—he said this word with particular contempt—” ... we take no handouts from the Star People, not so much as a crumb of bread or a sip of water, and we thrive through our winters. Our infants tend to live instead of die. We live in harmony with the land in structures we build ourselves. Yet, because we eat the flesh of animals as man is meant to, you consider yourselves superior to us?”

“You’re fuckin’ A right we do!” Tom barked.

“Watcher-damned savages is what you are,” put in Cedric.

“Humes,” Gath said, holding up his hands for peace. “It could be we’re getting a little off thrust here.”

“I agree,” said Yank. “All of us here are representatives of cultures that are vast and far reaching with rich historical significance. We are not here to judge each other...”

“The fuck we’re not!” said Tom. “Yank, your people destroyed our civilization! Destroyed it! And now you want to finish the job by sterilizing those of us who are left!”

“You don’t know shit about destroyed civilizations!” Fears No Darkness barked. “Your people destroyed your own civilization and the overseers have only been feeding and clothing you out of pity since.”

“That’s a lie!” Tom and Cedric shouted in unison.

“It is not,” Fears No Darkness said reasonably. “Our people have intact, unbroken oral history dating back to the Great Collapse and Yank here can confirm our account. Your society collapsed because of greed and corruption that fed upon itself for generation after generation, worsening instead of causing enlightenment. Once the collapse came, those you call overseers protected you from yourselves by disarming you of your nuclear weapons before you could destroy everyone.”

“Nuclear weapons?” asked Tom. “What the fuck are those?”

“Bombs capable of destroying entire cities with one detonation,” said Gath.

The two warriors shook their heads violently. “I’m calling bullshit on that,” said Tom.

“Fuckin’ A,” agreed Cedric.

“It’s true, humes,” Gath assured them. “Your civilization, just before it fell, had tens of thousands of the things, enough to destroy all life on the planet. Ships in space carried them as well. One of the first things my people did when your society collapsed was mount a huge operation to confiscate them.”