Authors: Jay Posey
Sahil went to work anyway, plugging what he could.
“Hold his head, hold his head,” Sahil said. Lincoln moved around and put his hands on either side of Mike’s head to keep him from turning it.
“Hang on, Mikey,” he said, keeping eye contact. Already, Mike’s eyes were weak, losing focus.
Mike reached a clumsy hand up and grabbed Sahil’s shoulder. Squeezed it.
“I got you, brother,” Sahil said, working feverishly to staunch the bleeding. “I got you.”
Lincoln hadn’t seen Sahil’s medical skills in action, but they were impressive. Fluid, expert, patient in the middle of the chaos. Just like he was in combat. The nanoagents on the bandages worked quickly to seal off the blood flow, to numb the damaged nerves. In maybe sixty seconds, Sahil had the bleeding under control.
But even that wasn’t enough.
Mike’s hand relaxed, slipped off Sahil’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, and a moment later his face went slack.
“Mike,” Sahil said. “Mike, buddy, come on now. Don’t do that.”
Sahil continued to work, kept a steady stream of encouragement coming, even though he seemed to know he was talking to a dead man. After a minute or so, Lincoln touched Sahil’s forearm.
“I know,” Sahil said. “But I ain’t gonna just leave him lookin’ all tore up.”
They finished in silence. Once the bleeding had fully stopped, Sahil wrapped fresh bandages neatly around Mike’s neck, and placed a patch over the wound on his jaw.
“Whatever that was,” Sahil said, “came in through the visor. Looks like it deflected off the jawbone, went through the neck, and then where?” Lincoln couldn’t tell from his tone whether he was looking for an answer, or just talking to himself.
“Didn’t come back out the suit,” he continued. “So…” Here, he looked up at Lincoln. “It just ping-ponged around inside till it stopped.”
And now Lincoln understood why Mike had slipped away so quickly, despite Sahil’s efforts. The two men sat next to their fallen brother for a minute or two, neither one seeming to know what should come next. Nothing seemed right, or appropriate.
But Lincoln was the team lead. His burden to be the first to set the shock and the grief aside, to get the team back on focus.
“Let’s get him up topside,” Lincoln said. Sahil nodded, packed up his trauma kit, got to his feet. He rolled Mike… or rather, Mike’s body, onto its side, positioned him to lift in a fireman’s carry.
“Let me help you,” Lincoln said, moving to assist.
“I got him,” Sahil said.
“Be easier if we both carry–”
“I said I got him,” Sahil said, sharply. Lincoln held up a hand, acquiescing. It wasn’t an easy process to get a man up off the ground on your own, but Sahil didn’t struggle at all.
“Lincoln,” Wright said over comms. “What’s your status? What’s going on with Mike?”
“We’re bringing him up now,” Lincoln said.
“How is he? Is he all right?” As controlled as it was, there was more emotion in her voice than Lincoln had ever heard before.
“Amira,” Lincoln said. “He’s gone.”
“
U
NDERSTOOD
, Hawkeye,” Will said to the officer in charge of command and control for his current operation. “I’m just trying to verify that nobody’s getting left behind here.”
“I appreciate the concern, Havoc Lead,” the officer replied. “And the initiative. It’s all being handled.”
“Roger that, you’ve got another element inbound to receive the Lamprey then?”
A pause.
“It’s being handled, Havoc Lead.”
“Hawkeye, be advised, we’re zero on scopes, and not seeing anything projected our way. Is there a reason we shouldn’t remain on station until that team gets back?”
“Colonel,” the officer said, and the tone of his voice suggested he had Will outranked. That too was unusual. “The situation’s hot enough as it is. If anybody runs across you out there, I don’t expect they’ll take time to ask any questions. And if they shoot, then we have to shoot. And that’s going to get real ugly, real fast. It’s been decided that it’s best to recall you now.”
“… and what about the team we inserted?”
There was a long pause before the response came in.
“Those assets are deniable, colonel,” the officer said, his words clipped. “You are not. So, execute the mission you’ve been given, continue your escort, and return to Point Artemis. End of discussion.”
That settled it, then.
“Havoc Lead copies all, Hawkeye,” Will responded. “Thanks for the time.”
“Hawkeye, out.”
On the viewscreen, Whiplash’s maneuvering thrusters flared, preparing to bring the ship about.
“Havoc Lead, this is Whiplash. We’re preparing to come about. Adjust course to follow station.”
He’d done his due diligence. Whatever was going on was way above his paygrade. He eased the throttle, nudged the stick to maintain his relative position to the sleek
Corsair-
class vessel that was his charge.
“Roger that, Whiplash,” Will answered. “Havoc Two, bring it around.”
L
INCOLN LED
the way into the control room, dark herald of the darkest news.
Thumper and Wright both turned to the door when he entered, but nobody said anything. Sahil followed, with Mike over his shoulders, then laid him gently on the deck.
Wright approached and knelt next to Mike, placed one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest. Thumper’s hands went up to her visor and then stopped, as if she’d been about to wipe tears away and then remembered she couldn’t.
“Why’d you have your plate open, you big idiot,” Wright said quietly. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told him to stay buttoned up.”
And that was the moment that Lincoln felt the most coldly nauseated. The memory flashed back in perfect detail, Mike crouching down to work on the canister, Lincoln too distracted to remind him to close his faceplate, just in case. It was such a simple thing, a detail Lincoln should have noticed, should have commented on, and that should have saved his man. And that made it all the worse. If he hadn’t felt so sick, he would have been furious at how such a mundane detail overlooked could extract such a terrible cost.
Lincoln gave them some time, himself included, to come to terms with the reality of the situation, but he couldn’t let it linger. They’d have to pack the loss away for the moment, and get back to work. There’d be plenty of time to grieve when they were done. And now, a man down, that meant more work for everyone.
“Sahil, take him on, get him loaded up in the Co–” Lincoln caught himself. The nickname didn’t seem that funny anymore. “Get him loaded up in the Lamprey.”
“Maybe oughta get the girl out of here too,” Sahil said, nodding at María.
Lincoln nodded. “Good call. Wright, why don’t you help Sahil out, get everyone situated.”
“Then what?” Wright asked, getting up to her feet. She was already flipping the switch, getting back on point.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I have it figured out,” Lincoln said.
“And him?” Wright asked, dipping her head towards Vector.
“I’ll keep an eye on him for now.”
Wright nodded. She helped Sahil get Mike up across his shoulders again, and then went to talk with María.
“Piper,” Lincoln heard the girl say. “You can just call me Piper.” And her voice sounded stronger, steadier. She seemed to be breathing more easily. Starting to believe she really had been rescued, maybe.
As Wright led her out, Lincoln turned back to address Thumper, only to discover that she was already back at the ship’s console.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Vector said.
Lincoln looked over at him.
“Losing a man,” he said. Lincoln’s first thought was to walk over and stomp the man’s face in, but then he realized it hadn’t been meant as a taunt. He seemed sincere. Still, Lincoln couldn’t restrain his tongue.
“I wouldn’t think a man willing to kill fifty-seven men, women, and children would have much room for sentiment.”
Vector blinked slowly; his face was ashen, his breathing, strained.
“All those below decks were already dead,” Vector said. “We’re not monsters.”
“Oh? Just grave robbers then?”
“Gathered up from the gutter… We’re giving them more dignity, than they ever got at home… And purpose.”
“Tell yourself whatever you want, bud. There’s no way to justify what you’ve done.”
Vector grunted a weak and brittle chuckle.
“Spoken… like a man… who’s never seen behind the veil,” he said. He gave a ragged, wet cough, and winced. “Ain’t none of us… can justify… what we’ve done.”
He closed his eyes.
“Not a one,” he said.
After that, he said nothing more.
Lincoln stood in the center of the control room for a long moment, looking at the man slumped over against the bulkhead. There was a story there, to be sure. They’d served the same nation once, maybe even at the same time. Lincoln couldn’t help but wonder how their paths had diverged, and why. Another mystery to solve later. Or, most likely, that would never be solved.
“Link?” Thumper said.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“This ship is definitely being run remotely,” Thumper said. “And I mean
remotely
, not just on AI. I’m locked out of commo right now, but look. Someone’s broadcasting on our channel, probably hopping off that relay I’d guess.”
“Making it look like there’s a crew on board?”
“That’d be my guess.”
“You been able to figure out what they’re saying?”
“No, I haven’t, captain,” she said, with obvious irritation. “There kinda hasn’t been time with you wanting me to shut the ship down
and
crack all these logs
and
dump all the system data–”
“Yeah, all right, Thump, I got it. First priority is getting the ship under control. The more space we can keep between us and the Martians, the better. We’ll figure the rest of it out after that.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Thumper said.
“You got that figured out already?”
“No,” Thumper said, and she flicked a hand at the display. “We’re stopping.”
“There’s no way we reached Martian territory already…” Lincoln said, checking the nav chart. He was right, they were still outside Martian-controlled space. They didn’t have all that far to go, astronomically speaking, but there was no doubt that the ship was still in open space, and would be even if they had a nice, leisurely deceleration. “For some reason, this doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“No, sir.”
The ship’s purpose wasn’t a mystery; it was a puzzle. All of it had to make some sort of sense, if he had the right information, but his mind was too off balance, too stirred up to be able to put the pieces together. And it didn’t seem likely that he had much time left to figure it out.
C
OMMODORE
L
IAO KEPT
her eyes on the scans, but her attention was on the exchange taking place between her communications officer and the one aboard the UAF
Mako-
class cruiser that had just entered Martian space.
“You have entered territory under control of the Central Martian Authority,” her communications officer said, “in violation of interplanetary law and the Planetary Sovereignty Treaty. Change course as directed, or we will have no option but to assume hostile intent and to respond accordingly.”
“Negative,
Relentless
,” came the response, “we are in universally acknowledged open space. We will hold course.”
“They’re slowing,” Liao’s tactical officer reported. “Should I initiate calculation of a firing solution, captain?”
“No, lieutenant commander,” Liao answered. Once she initiated weapons systems lock-on, the other ship’s defensive system would warn its crew. They would have no choice but to respond in kind. And then, any hope Liao had of de-escalating the situation would vanish. But there was another way to probe for hostile intent, without becoming the aggressor.
“Helm, maintain course. We’ll consider ourselves in a blocking position,” she said. “Tactical. Go to half ECM, monitor for signs of disruption attempts.”
There wasn’t much place to hide in space, and with the weapon systems the navies had on board, it was trivial to hit just about anything you could see. Electronic countermeasure, or ECM, capabilities were where the real battle took place. Typically, the first ship to defeat the other’s ECM was the guaranteed victor, unless the other ship managed to get its own firing solution worked out before impact. In those rare cases, everyone lost. Of course, calling them ECM was almost as archaic a term as port and starboard, but the navy was nothing if not traditional.
“Half ECM, aye,” the lieutenant answered.
Half ECM would be enough to draw the desired attention, without revealing
Relentless’s
full capabilities.
“Let’s see how they respond.”
W
ILL
and his wing had been underway for only a few minutes before the nagging feeling finally got the better of him. Something about those
deniable assets
out there. Sounded too much like leaving someone behind.
“Hey, Bear,” Will said. “What’d you make of Hawkeye’s little speech?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Noah said. “Kind of sounded to me like he was saying the guys out there are on their own.”
“Yeah,” Will said. “That’s kind of what I thought. Any thoughts on what we should do about it?”
Noah was quiet for a few seconds. “Well. What do you think Dad would have done?”
“What do I think
he
would have done, or what do I think he would tell
us
to do?” Will said. Noah chuckled. And then Will added. “You know what Dad would have done.”
“Then why are we talking about it?”
“You sure?”
“A thousand percent,” said Noah.
“Well, all right, roger that,” Will said. “Hope you’ve got a retirement plan.”
“It’s fine,” Noah answered. “Being a major isn’t as cool as I’d been led to believe, anyway.”
Will switched over to the wing communications channel.
“Havoc Two, Havoc Lead,” he said. “You guys see that ping at our six?”
“Negative Havoc Lead, we’re zero on scopes.”