0041, Saturday, July 3, 2027
+62 Hours 58 Minutes SMT
Low Orbit, Septus Minor
Aboard the Porsavar
Safe from the comfort of the command bridge, Phantom Team watches as Chuck works his magic. All the power he has is going to his head. But, in this case, I don’t stop it. We could use the morale boosts as a team and, if I’m honest, the little guy’s more than earned it.
As layers of holo windows fill the room, Chuck announces in a gravelly Peter Coyote air, “Behold, the mighty power of an ASIK in the wild. He stalks his prey, careful not to disturb them during their mating rituals.”
“Chuck.”
“…during their grazing.”
“Better.”
The pancakes, having unloaded their most recent haul and returning planet-side, touch down on the strand to the west of Neverland.
“Here,” Hobbs says from behind me. She’s got the alien version of a folding chair and opens it up. “These shows are easier to watch if you’re sitting.”
I take a seat beside her. “What? No popcorn?”
“You know where the kitchen is.”
Solid burn.
The rest of the team is getting comfortable too, which reminds me to bring up Insarka’s team windows. They’re gathered on the Fashdew ’s bridge, mirroring Chuck’s feed on their holo displays.
“Under cover of darkness, the male ASIK prepares his trap using skills he’s developed over ten seasons spent fighting in the Octagon.”
“We’re going MMA now?” I ask him.
Bumper waves me off. “It’s all good.”
“But it does kind of break the nature show vibe,” Aaron adds.
Chuck sounds slightly annoyed. “…using skills he’s developed over ten million years in the wild.”
“See, that’s better,” Aaron says.
Bumper’s not impressed. “Guess we know who he likes better.”
“I have softer hands.”
“Not sure that’s something to be proud of.”
“Depends on what you’re handling.”
I cough. “Can we get back to the show?”
The hostiles on all four pancakes descend the ramps and file back onto the beach, waiting to board their next batch of merchandise.
Chuck continues his mockumentary. “Watch as the ASIK takes on the attributes of its latest slain enemy, the Sci-Rung Ambassador Srin Ock Tall of Marieve Plorshar. Note the hunter’s keen skill at mimicking the fallen foe’s every nuance. His abilities rival the other hunters in his pack, making this the alpha ASIK. He’s even taken into consideration how—”
“How his pack leader might vent him out an airlock if he doesn’t stay on schedule,” I say. It’s good-natured fun, but we do need to keep moving.
“Out of respect for his pack leader, the ASIK springs its trap.”
Vlad leans in. “Is best USA nature show, eh? So good programs. So good.”
I turn to Hobbs and raise an eyebrow. “He knows this is just Chuck, right?”
She shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
An image of the recently departed Srin Ock Tall appears in a side window. Looks just like him. And as the audio plays out over enemy comms, it sounds just like him too. Granted, I can’t make heads or tails of the whisper-like speech, but it sounds authentic.
My helmet translates the orders, or at least what Chuck wants us to hear because the language actually makes sense this time. “This is Srin Ock Tall. All units are to return to their respective transportation vessels immediately. I repeat, all units return to your transportation vessels. We have a level ten acquisition opportunity that demands our analysis, post-haste.”
“Post-haste?” Bumper looks around. “Do they say that?”
“And what’s a level ten?” I ask Chuck.
“How should I know? I made it up.”
“Charles.”
“I know, I know. I’ll rein it in. But these dingbats don’t know the difference.”
“I think they might.” Hobbs motions to one of the pancake’s cam sets. The mercs around the ship exchange glances.
“They’re not buying, Chuck,” I say.
“Ugh. You all worry too much.” A beat later, his Australian accent is in full force. “Watch as the alpha ASIK adjusts his hunting style on the fly to ensure his prey’s capture.”
The disembodied Ock Tall talks again. “I’m offering you three times your contracted pay for this deviation in our arrangement. Payable upon completion.”
“Throw in hookers,” Vlad exclaims. “Is good motivations!”
“No, Chuck,” I say.
Fortunately, the gun listens to me and keeps his mouth shut.
Vlad slouches. “Eh. Was worth tries.”
The money does the trick, and the mercs file back into the ships. Those holding the waiting refugees at bay withdraw more tactfully, careful to keep their weapons raised as the crowds grow curious about their oppressor’s retreat. Hope is in the air. And as the ships move off the strand, cheers run along the seaside’s edge like waves.
Chuck’s nature show continues in full force. The four pancakes move east and collect the remaining tangos. “This master ASIK hunter is truly in his prime and serves as the perfect example of what an apex predator looks like in his natural habitat. Now watch as the hunter drops his unsuspecting collection of meat scraps into a nearby volcano.”
“Nope.”
“…into the ocean.”
“Still nope.”
Chuck sighs. “Into a flowery patch of lush, rolling plains bordered by burgeoning forests.”
“There ya go.”
Chuck breaks from his narration. “You know, this episode would have garnered higher ratings had we had some gratuitous slaughter.”
“Copy that.”
“Just, don’t say I didn’t warn you when the Nielson ratings come in. Everyone wants to blame the director when it’s the studio’s fault.”
“Is right,” Vlad says. “Every time. Never learnings. Pitiful.”
* * *
As the feeds continue to show the mercs offloading, the conversation turns toward the disappointment and the mystery of not finding what Insarka said we would: a quantum tunnel.
Hollywood turns her hands palms up as if pleading with the universe. “But it’s gotta have something to do with that orb, right? I mean, opens a space-time pocket or something?”
“Rift,” Aaron interjects.
“What?”
“A rift in space-time. Never mind.”
“I do think that’s a fair assumption,” Insarka says. “But it is beyond my knowledge base.”
“And this ship’s, it would appear,” says Chuck. “I have no record of what that monstrosity is being used for.”
“How’s that even possible?” Hobbs asks. “Isn’t it integrated with the ship’s systems? There’s major infrastructure back there. Which means there’s gotta be logs, schematics… something. You’re telling me they didn’t keep records? Or was Mr. Yellow Guts the sole keeper of the secret sauce recipe?”
“Given the Sci-Rung’s technical capabilities, your last idea may actually be the most likely.”
“Hold up,” I add. “You’re saying the whole thing was Ock Tall’s pet project?”
“Quite possibly, yes. But we’ll never know, will we. Ghost didn’t miss this time.”
The sniper folds his arms and leans back, content.
Aaron speaks up after a moment’s silence. “It really does take the quantum tunnel off the table then.”
“I’m afraid so,” Chuck replies. “Unless Insarka knows something I don’t.”
We look to the major over the HUD.
“I wish I knew more. And without a way to reach the Blood Guard, I don’t have access to a deeper knowledge base. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” I say. I learned long ago that spilled milk is only good for cats, and since I’ve never been a fan of cats, spilled milk is even less valuable. You work with what you’ve got. “We still have two starships, four transports, and what looks to be enough food and medicine for several long voyages if the numbers are accurate. That’s a win in my book. Let’s get back down to Neverland and figure out how to get these people up here.”
* * *
It takes the pancakes another hour to return to the Porsavar and Fashdew where our teams will board and return to the surface. We decide to leave the refugees currently in holding as they are. They’re secure and have access to water and waste disposal; no sense trying to reorganize until we know what we’re doing.
Insarka pings me on a private channel as we head back to the hangar bays.
“Thank you for your discretion, Patrick-Wic.”
“Didn’t know I’d shown any.”
“About saving the mercenaries’ lives.”
I cock my head. “I wouldn’t exactly call it saving . Maybe delaying the inevitable.”
“But you could have disposed of them.”
“Yut. Coulda done that.”
“Thus, why I’m thanking you.”
I slow and let the others continue moving toward the ship we’ll take back to the surface. “Why, exactly? If you don’t mind.”
Insarka takes a deep breath before continuing. “You and I both know how complex relationships between species can be.”
“Maybe not species, but—”
“Nations,” she corrects.
I nod.
“And mercenaries do not always reflect the values or histories of the people they come from.”
“True. But we can still judge them for their own actions.”
“Yes.” She pauses in thought. “But oftentimes, things are not as they appear. Greater constructs lie beneath the surface that explain questions—ones that did not immediately have answers.”
“Like?”
“The Shershen, for example. You… you don’t know their kind or their history, yet you consider them to be a violent enemy, yes?”
“I don't merely consider them to be a violent enemy. I speak from the last few hours of experience.”
“They are a dangerous species, yes. But they are fiercely loyal, and their debt codes are considered to be the—you say, benchmark?—of integrity in their sector.”
“This going somewhere?”
“Their religion of obligation demands they abide by their word even when it draws them into morally reprehensible conduct. I wouldn’t expect your species to understand.”
I’m about to object when she cuts me off.
“We, too, find some of their judgment calls questionable. However, that does not change the fact that their sense of honor and duty is coherent to them, even when it leads them astray.”
“You’re saying the Sci-Rung tricked them then?”
“No. The Shershens are not easily tricked. The Sci-Rung obligated them—took advantage of behavior in order to exploit it, for their own ends.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not exactly brimming with empathy.”
“No. But you might be one day when you learn the whole story. I’m simply letting you know that there’s more than meets the eye.”
“I’m guessing the Odob and Verv are the same then?”
Insarka seems to hem and haw a little. “The Odob aren’t the most intelligent creatures and sometimes say yes to things they really shouldn’t, and the Verv are bloodthirsty killers.”
Ha. Didn’t see that coming. “Then we saved them because…?”
“I expect the Shershens will eventually eat the Verv for protein, and the Odob will find other pastures since they’re no match for Shershens in packs.”
“Survival of the fittest.”
“Yes.”
“You’re a crafty one, Major.”
She winks at me. “We all have our angles, Patrick-Wic.”
* * *
It’s still dark when we land on the strand, and there’s no one to be found. The refugees have retreated, as expected. We rejoin with Insarka’s unit, head east, and keep an eye out for scouts.
One klick from Camp Monday’s western edge, Ghost says, “Contact. Bearing seven-two degrees, thirty-eight meters. Edge of that tree.”
I note Ghost’s ping in my HUD and then activate my external speakers. “This is Patrick Finnegan with Phantom Team. We’re here to—”
“It’s Wic,” the person says in the distance.
Another heat signature pops up from behind a boulder about fifty meters away. “It’s Wic!”
The call passes to another scout a hundred meters back and then beyond sensor range. Meanwhile, the first person Ghost spotted runs our way. I flip on a helmet light, remove my cover, and keep the LED pointed. The man who approaches us looks to be in his early thirties.
“We thought you weren’t coming back,” he says. “Thought you were dead.”
“Yut, well, we’re not.”
“I can see that! Oh man, everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you.”
“Do you know where we can find Cortes and Winters?”
“Oh, sure, sure. They’re back at the camp headquarters. You want me to take you? Because I can totally do that.”
“We’re good. Stay your post.”
“Okay, yeah. Sure.”
I move past the guy when he stops me.
“Thanks, Wic. You know. For coming back. Those ships you came in… they for us? You taking us home?”
“They’re for you, but we’re looking for a new home.”
His eyes go down.
“But it will be a good one.”
He looks up. “Okay.”
* * *
By the time we reached Camp Monday’s HQ, a small crowd has gathered around us. Kids mostly. Isn’t it past their bedtime? Then again, they did just narrowly escape being captured by aliens flying a UFO. Adrenaline’s better than Red Bull. Good luck to their parents… if they’re even still around. Goddammit.
“Wic,” Cortes exclaims as she appears in the hut’s entrance. “You… you did it! You’re back.”
I point to my ear. “Tried calling you.”
“It was damaged in the conflict.”
“Roger. SITREP?”
She hesitates and then looks at all the children moving around us. “Excuse me?”
“What’s the situation here?”
“Please, let’s move inside.”
The Phantoms follow her in. The sand table is just as we left it, and the HQ looks intact. “I take it the enemy didn’t get this far? Coming from the east.”
“No. Reports are saying that the majority of the forces pressed from the north and south.”
Hollywood nods. “That confirms what we saw from up top.”
“Casualties?” I ask.
Cortes swallows. “Well, not as many as you would think given how dangerous those things looked.”
“They were here to collect,” Ghost offers. “Not kill.”
She nods. “I suspect numbers will be in the low thousands by the time all reports are tallied. But that could be days at this point.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“As am I. But I’m guessing you don’t want to wait around for days, do you?”
I exchange looks with Insarka and then look back at Cortes. “Well, that’s what we’re here to discuss. We have two fully functional starships able to move every single person off this planet.”
There’s a commotion outside the hut, and a voice comes into focus. Winters. “Where? Inside? Let me through. I said, please let me through.” A few seconds later, Winters pushes into the HQ looking out of breath and disheveled. I’m not sure which version of Bob we’re gonna get, but for his throat’s sake, I hope it’s the friendly version.
“Wic,” he says and then looks around at the rest of the team. “It really is you! You made it.” He walks up to me and gives me a hug. A full on, arms-around-the-armor hug.
I pat him once on the back, not sure how to take this.
Winters pulls away and holds me by the shoulders. “We were worried about you.”
“You were?”
“But-but, you did it! You saved us!”
I raise an eyebrow at Hobbs.
She shrugs but looks happy.
“It was a team effort,” I reply at last, hoping Winters will let me go on his own. I don’t want to break the guy’s mood by pushing his hands down, ’cause Lord only knows how long it will last. But he really does seem to be appreciative.
“You… you saved Neverland,” he says at last, lowering his arms. “And the two batches who were taken?”
“They’re safe on board the ships.” I don’t have the heart to tell them about those who were lost just yet. But that will come.
Winters runs a hand through his hair and turns to Cortes. “You hear that, Monica? They’re safe.”
“And Wic says we have access to the ships now,” she replies. “We can go wherever we want.”
Winters raises his eyebrows at her and then turns back to me. “It’s true?”
“We have two heavy haulers, yut. Ready to go when you want them.”
“But what about the enemy?”
Bumper chimes in. “The ones we didn’t kill we put in time-out. They won’t be a problem.”
Winters looks around. “So, what’s the plan?”
* * *
We’ve settled into the HQ with clay mugs of Neverland’s fake coffee. I can feel fatigue setting in as I listen to everyone talk about the possibilities in front of us. I also have a growing desire to catch a few hours of shut-eye. But we’ve got plans to make before that happens. Work now, sleep when you can, hold your piss till you can’t.
Insarka’s taken the lead since she’s the authority on space exploration. Hell, her knowledge base and expertise make NASA and JPL look like kids staring at the sun with binoculars. I don’t even know how to compute what she’s talking about in terms of times and distances, but I’m guessing Aaron does. He’s fully engaged and taking a hundred pages of mental notes, if I know my friend.
“So,” Winters says after half an hour of discussion. “In summary, you’re not entirely sure of the systems we’re around, but you’re reasonably certain you can find us a better home than this one to settle on.”
Cortes jumps in. “One with technologies and peaceful sentient assistance that will ensure our long-term survival.”
“That’s correct,” Insarka says.
“And how long do you think this scouting expedition will take?” Winters asks.
“Assuming the drive cores and sensor arrays remain intact, I believe we can map several suitable systems in thirty of your days.”
Winters and Cortes exchange looks and seem quite happy. Aaron is impressed too. I lean his way and ask for his thoughts while the others hold side conversations.
“You think it’s reasonable?” I say.
He lets out a soft laugh. “Heh. Well, I mean, we’re talking astronomically long distance here, Pat. These ships clearly have some sort of sub-light jump ability, right? I mean, without that, you got nothing.”
“Oh. Sure, yeah.”
“But I trust her. If she says a month, then we’re good to go.”
I give an impressed frown as if to say, “Not bad,” and then look at Cortes and Winters.
Cortes takes the reins. “It doesn’t sound like we have much choice. Bob and I will pass this on to the rest of the camps. If there’s somewhere out there that’s better for us, we have to explore it.”
“Conservatively,” Winters says. “We send out—what?—an expedition team? Then we load everyone up and head out?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have that kind of time,” I reply. “We have to assume the Sci-Rung know we’re here, and that they’ve lost comms with two important ships.”
“And the mercs you relocated,” Cortes says, doubling back to some of the information Insarka covered. “But they’re at a safe distance?”
Chuck pipes up to answer this one. “Unless they suddenly develop watercraft capable of crossing a small sliver of ocean, I’d say you have a decades-long margin of safety. Be that as it may, they’re still a consideration, though not nearly as pressing as what Patrick stated about the Sci-Rung’s knowledge of our presence.”
I’m seconds away from adjourning the meeting when Chuck butts in.
“Ummm, Patrick?”
“Yes, Charles.”
“Weee… might have a new situation .”
I glance at Hobbs. “Alright.”
“So, remember that whole thing about not finding the quantum tunnel?”
“Yeah?”
“Well… I found it.”
We all sit forward.
“What? Where?”
“Oh, about ten klicks from the Porsavar .”
“Ten clicks? What the hell, Chuck? How’d you miss that?”
“Patrick, please. I didn’t miss anything. It simply wasn’t there before. But now it is.”
I look at Insarka. She’s got the thousand-yard stare going on.
“Insarka?”
She snaps out of it and looks at me.
“You know what those orbs are, don’t you.”
“I do. At least, I think I do. I just… don’t know how it’s possible.”
Her words hang in the air for several seconds before I need to prompt her again. “But?”
“But it’s here. They’ve… done it, on ships.”
“Done what, Major?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “They have two Unity arcs.”