As captain, Thomas didn’t often find himself in the after end of the ship. Moore maintained her low-profile reconnaissance of the Centauri system, and most of his waking time was spent on the bridge.
He’d always imagined that he’d be a more personal captain—strolling the flats and getting to know his crew members in situ—but as always, the war seemed to waylay the best-laid plans. He met quite a few surprised glances as he moved aft to the hangar, but at least he was able to greet some of the crew by name.
Thomas floated discreetly to the side of the hangar as the starboard airlock opened to reveal the dark, angular shape of the Special Forces insertion craft. Slung beneath it was the smallest torpedo he’d ever laid eyes on. The first objective of the mission was complete. A mix of flight and ASW technicians clustered around, eager to examine the weapon which had so crippled Admiral Bowen.
Though curious as well, he was far more interested in the pair of operatives who emerged from the aft door of their craft. Clearly not re-accustomed to the zero-g, they fumbled to hand their spacesuits off to the waiting ground crew.
“Welcome back, operatives,” he said, keeping his tone mild but fighting down the urge to embrace them both in a big hug. Jack and Katja looked healthy and relatively at ease. She gave him a curt nod, but Jack smiled and reached out his free hand.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”
“Granted,” he replied, shaking the hand. “Good work on your capture.”
Jack glanced over to the torpedo, and at the technicians extracting it from the insertion craft.
“I’m sure we’ll learn a lot from this little bitch.”
Nodding, Thomas motioned for them to follow him toward the forward door.
“How many did they have in inventory?”
Jack glanced at Katja. She considered for a moment.
“I saw twenty-four. Enough to cripple an entire expeditionary force—and that was just the storage bunker I was in. Who knows how many more they have.”
“So it’s in mass production,” he surmised as they moved into the main passageway that led forward. “It wasn’t just a prototype.”
“No.”
The ship was bustling as it approached watch turnover, and Thomas made to weave his way through the crowd. Then he noticed very quickly that no weaving was required—the throng seemed to part before him. He made sure to acknowledge every crew member who tucked against the bulkhead to let him pass, sensing that their actions were made out of respect, not fear. Maybe he didn’t get out to wander the ship as much as he’d like, but it seemed his crew still felt that he knew them.
The sitting area of his cabin was immaculate, as always, and before he could even make the request his steward appeared with three bulbs of coffee and a clear ball filled with finger foods. Pulling himself down to the couch, Thomas hooked in and invited his guests to do the same. Jack joined him in the illusion of sitting, but Katja floated free.
“I need to get used to zero-g again,” she said. “If I try to tell my body that I’m actually sitting when it can’t feel the pull, we’re likely to be dodging balls of puke in here.”
A sharp chuckle burst from Thomas’s lips, even more so as he saw his steward glance back subtly from the servery door.
“Master Rating Stinson,” he called out. “Would you please excuse us for an hour or so?”
The steward nodded politely and exited into the passageway.
“Don’t worry about the gravity,” Thomas said, glancing at his watch. “We’re just about to switch it back on for an hour or so—critical maintenance needs to be done on a few mechanical systems which don’t open well in zero-g.”
As if on cue, the bridge announced the imminent return of AG. After a fifteen-second delay, the gentle tug of the ship’s graviton generator began to take hold. It increased steadily toward Earth-normal. Thomas steadied the refreshments as they slowly lowered to the table. Katja lowered with them, and found her footing on the deck. The relief showed on her face.
“Thank you,” she said.
Thomas smiled and offered the finger foods to the operatives.
Neither hesitated, and Thomas figured it had been a long flight from Abeona.
“It’s good to see you both,” he said. “How was the mission?”
“Awesome,” Jack replied immediately. “The Centauri Cloud is phenomenal, and designed for easy access, so I was able to move through it along multiple lines simultaneously.” Thomas had no idea what a “Centauri Cloud” was, but he gathered that it was something of importance to how the operatives did their job.
“The society doesn’t seem geared for war,” Katja added, looking as if she wanted to change the subject. “Most people are just living their normal lives.”
“We’ve monitored their news channels from here,” Thomas said. “There’s at least one story per day on the subject of the war, but it’s usually buried beneath domestic concerns.”
“It’s as if the war doesn’t even matter to them,” Katja said, frowning.
“Actually,” Jack weighed in, “I think it’s more nuanced than that. The commentary I see on the war is quite balanced—it actually seems like their reporters do their research, and try to give the full picture. The responses from the public are remarkable, too—plenty of strong opinions, but nothing extreme. This is an educated population.”
Silence fell in the cabin for a moment. Thomas noted Jack’s expression of thoughtful respect, and noted also Katja’s narrowing eyes.
“All the more reason,” she said firmly, “to take them seriously as the enemy.”
“Yes,” Jack agreed, “most definitely.”
Thomas sipped at the coffee. He was becoming addicted to the stuff again, but at least it tasted better than straight amphetamines.
“Do you two have any combat cocktails in your gear?” he asked suddenly. All Astral Corps troopers were injected with a combination of drugs prior to battle—Thomas well remembered the euphoria from his days as a platoon leader. Katja would be familiar with them, he knew, and he was pretty sure even Jack had been juiced up on “valour valium” after his injuries in Sirius.
“No,” Katja said with a puzzled frown. “Why?”
“I can issue you some from my own strike team’s store—you might need them for the next mission.”
“Oh crap,” Jack said, sighing. “I told them I wasn’t a combat operative. I only have my yellow belt of humility.”
“What?” Thomas laughed, shaking his head.
“Operatives generally don’t use combat cocktails,” Katja said. “We can dull certain senses, and need to be able to react instantly on multiple levels.”
“Well, they’re yours if you want them.”
“More importantly,” Jack said, “why would we need them?
Tell us about the new mission, sir.”
Thomas met Jack’s apprehensive gaze, then shifted over to Katja as she stood nearby and stared at him expectantly. He’d received the orders from Chandler that morning via a needle-beam encoded transmission, and he was still turning them over in his head. Looking again at his companions, he wondered how much he should really let them know.
“There is going to be a Terran attack on Abeona,” he said finally, “and your mission is to disrupt Centauri defensive networks from within.”
“For how long?” Katja asked. “The last time we attacked this planet, the landing alone took nearly a day. If we’re landing Army troops, then this could go on for months.”
“We’re not landing troops,” he replied. “The attack will occur from orbit, and we only need a disruption for a few hours. Ideally you’ll infiltrate their networks beforehand, and set up the disruptors to activate automatically based on the schedule I’m going to give you.” He paused, then added, “You need to be off the planet when the attack occurs. Part of your mission is to send word to any other Terran assets posted on Abeona, instructing them to evacuate, as well.”
Katja nodded thoughtfully.
Jack stared at him with raised eyebrows.
“Why, exactly,” he asked, “do we all have to be off the planet? What is this attack?”
Thomas hesitated. They wouldn’t need the details of the attack in order to successfully conduct their mission. Yet these weren’t just two anonymous operatives—this was Jack Mallory and Katja Emmes. And the knowledge he now possessed wasn’t something he could just bury away. He needed to hear their opinions.
“You remember that little science experiment we three did, the last time we were in Centauria?”
Jack and Katja exchanged glances.
“You mean the Dark Bomb?” Jack asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Thomas felt the next words try to die in his throat, but he forced them up. “Terra is going to launch a Dark Bomb at Abeona.”
“Where?” Katja frowned. “Their orbital stations haven’t been rebuilt. Is there a central fleet docking facility we’re taking out?”
Jack was speechless, staring with his mouth open. He got it, Thomas knew.
“The bomb isn’t targeting anything in orbit,” Thomas explained. “It’s targeting Abeona.”
“Yeah,” Katja snapped, “but where?”
“The entire planet.” He met her gaze and held it as the realization finally dawned in her eyes. “Terra is going to detonate a Dark Bomb in Abeona’s core.”
Her face went pale, eyes widening, and a conflict of emotion wiped across her features, but as with Jack, no words emerged.
“In the name of God,” Jack whispered, “why?”
“To send a message. To tell the colonies that we have the power. To end the war.”
“What’s going to happen to Abeona?”
“No one knows for sure,” Thomas sighed, rolling his eyes. “At a minimum the shock from the core will set off quakes all over the surface, with enough force to essentially liquefy the crust. At the maximum, the singularization of the planet. It all depends on the gravity generated by the implosion.”
A harsh laugh erupted from Jack. He shook his head.
“I wonder if somebody’s getting their PhD signed off, if they estimate the damage accurately enough.” His expression hardened. “Or do those fuckers in the research squadron just have a pool going?”
Thomas dropped his gaze. He knew he was supposed to say something inspirational or authoritative at this point, but words eluded him. Katja moved to sit on the couch next to him. She was still pale, but her voice was steady.
“Do you have a download for us, sir?”
“Yes,” he replied, reaching for the data stick. “It’s all here.”
“Wait a second,” Jack said. “Do I have a say here?”
“No,” she said firmly. “We don’t make the missions—we carry them out.”
“Yeah, but have you noticed what this mission is?”
Thomas listened for her response, but the silence stretched on. He glanced up, and saw that they were staring intently at each other, but not speaking. Was this some kind of operative battle of wills?
Then, with a sigh of disgust, Jack launched to his feet.
“Please excuse me, sir. I need a few minutes. Or hours.”
“Jack, stay.”
“What the fuck?” he snapped. “What. The. Fuck. Since when is it okay to blow up an entire world? Do you know how many people live on Abeona?”
Thomas closed his eyes wearily, not wanting to think about it.
“About seven hundred million,” Jack said. “Seven hundred million men, women, and children who are down there right now, just living their lives.”
“They are the enemy, Jack,” Katja said.
“No they aren’t! The rebel military forces are the enemy, and maybe the colonial governments. Tell me that we’re bombing the Centauri Senate, and I’m right there with you—but the whole fucking planet? Second Earth? Is that really what we want to destroy?”
Jack pressed his fists against his face, obviously biting down more angry words.
“I’m not sure,” he said finally, “that I can do this.”
“Then,” Katja said slowly, almost as if she was repeating herself, “I will kill you.” At that point Thomas knew the conversation had to stop. He kept his face neutral as he looked up.
“Operative Mallory, you have until eighteen hundred to assimilate the download,” he said. “We’ll reconvene here at that time for a final brief.”
“Yes, sir.” Jack spun and left the cabin.
Thomas turned to Katja. Her delicate features hadn’t changed in a year, and she moved with the same quick assurance as always, but her big, dark eyes regarded him with a luminous strength he hadn’t seen in her before.
“Katja…”
She met his gaze, a sad smile playing at her lips.
“Yes, sir?”
“How did we get to this?”
“By the paths we’ve chosen, Commander.”
Her face revealed little, but he could sense that she was being sincere. The mental walls he’d seen her throw up so many times were absent. He reached out and took her hand in his. She didn’t resist.
“We’ve each walked our paths,” he agreed, “and we can’t go back, but we still need to look ahead at where we’re going, and make sure it’s the right place.”
“My path is clear,” she replied. “I’m a servant of the State, and I always will be.”
“As am I, but with this level of destructive power, I also have to be a servant to humanity. This mission…”
“Stop,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Don’t even let yourself think it. You have to be strong to guide your crew through this. They have to be able to look at you and see absolute confidence. You need to be strong for them… just like I have to be for Jack.”
“I know you’re strong—stronger than I’ve ever been,” he responded. “You have nothing left to prove, to anyone. But—”
“But nothing.” Her features hardened and he saw the barriers rising. Her grip tightened further. “We have our orders, and the State carries the burden.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She stared at him in silence. Then, suddenly, she pulled herself against him, wrapping him in her arms. He felt her cheek press against his, a trickle of moisture caught against his skin.
“I have to,” she whispered.
He held her close, reveling in the feel of her warm body against his, her breath against his ear. She hung onto him for a long time, crying quietly. When she finally pulled back to look at him, cheeks strained with tears, she actually managed a smile.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Kane, but you always make me feel human.”
“Are you not human anymore?”
“No,” she said. “I’m a monster. I hid from that for a long time, but that damn pilot kid just reminds me too much of what life really should be.”
“He’s a damaged young man, Katja—and war did that to him.”
“He may be damaged, but he’s stronger for it.”
“But is he better for it?”
“Just stop this.” She shook her head and wiped angrily at her eyes as tears welled once again. But she still kept her arms around him, body leaning into his. “We are what we are, now. Nothing can change that.”
She was so warm against him, so powerful and yet so fragile. He ached with her proximity, unable to hold back the flood of long-forgotten emotions.
“Well, at least we’re here together.”
“Yes.”
“Katja, when the war’s over…”
“Thomas,” she interrupted him, running her fingers tenderly across his cheek. “Don’t live in the past. You don’t know who I am anymore—if you ever did. For people like me, the war will never be over.” The strength was returning to her eyes, the moment of weakness, of doubt, banished. She was a front-line operative, and he could only guess at what she’d done in the name of the State.
“Only if you so choose.”
“I made my choice a long time ago.”
“We’ve all made choices. I made one too, a vow to my wife, and I’m going to honor it forever.” He stared into her eyes, feeling his heart tear. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
She stared back at him. He waited for her defenses to rise even more, but instead she just offered a sad smile.
“This isn’t the time, Thomas.”
“It might be the only time we have. I’ve done enough shitty things in my life. I’m sorry, for everything.”
She nodded, still stroking his cheek.
“I’m sorry, too. And even if you’re still an asshole”—She smirked at him—“I love you too.”
The hole in his heart filled in, just a bit. He was a cruiser commander in hostile space talking to a Special Forces operative on the eve of the most devastating attack in human history. He had no illusions about what the future promised, but he relished this one, single moment that was for just them.
For Thomas and Katja.