So many were at risk.
Mae stared out into the blackness of space and considered their quarry. The bridge of the Righteous Fury remained silent except for the low hum of the ship’s AI, EWA. Her physical manifestation stood in the shadows by the door, silent. She wore the face of a tall bald man, but since Mae’s mother debriefed Erynis and ordered a full factory reset, she did not speak nearly as much as she once did.
Colonel Zula Hendricks’s rangy form sat in her command chair, similarly silent. She may as well have been a part of the Fury herself. She seemed to embody it these days, determined and relentless. The flickering lights of the flight deck control panel traced patterns across her dark skin, and over the planes of a face marked by stress.
They were on the trail of the ship that rained death and destruction on the planet Shānmén. Her mother’s brown eyes narrowed, studying the darkness before them, as if she saw the path the strange ship was on. Such a thing made no sense to Mae; human eyes didn’t have the capacity to see as clearly as hers. Genetic people were still somewhat of a mystery to her.
Her outer form might’ve been a bespoke artificial body, undistinguishable from the flesh body of her mother, but her mind came from her father. As did her name. It was an acronym for Machine Algorithm Embodied, but also a nod to the first woman who served in the United States Marines.
Davis conceived of her during their last close call during the colony war. He’d needed to ensure his legacy would remain to assist Zula Hendricks in her fight against the Xenomorphs, but he had other plans. Perhaps an even stranger reason.
Mae reflected on his demise. His self-sacrificial gesture reflected his own anxieties as an artificial person: he didn’t want the woman he loved to be alone.
Glancing back at her, Mae wasn’t sure how well she performed that duty. Her mother led the Jackals, and they leapt to her command. She hadn’t yet shared with her daughter any more than she did with them. Her weathered face remained a dark mask.
Mae understood the concept of human emotions. Davis built loyalty into her programming, but that was a straightforward feeling and easy for her to replicate. The emotional layers of her flesh-and-blood mother, those were much more difficult to figure out.
Davis, though he’d created her, did not see fit to leave those answers in her memory bank. Either that, or even he hadn’t known.
However, on her journey, Mae became familiar with one other human emotion: anxiety. Her fingers tapped together at her side, a gesture she’d picked up from Sergeant Masako Littlefield. Mae observed that she did it when she was concerned or worried. In an effort to understand, she’d copied the gesture. It didn’t help, but perhaps it took time and practice.
Zula finally broke the silence. “Anything on the scanner, Mae?”
Her mother could have asked EWA through Erynis, but intriguingly chose not to. Back on Shānmén, both turned on Mae for being different and attempting to become more humanlike. Trying to become sentient deeply offended them.
Zula reacted to protect her child. She’d ordered the system purged before they left Pylos Station, so that EWA didn’t remember Mae was an artificial person. This action might have been designed to protect her, but it created an unfortunate side effect. Hiding who she was from everyone, including all the other synthetics, meant that she was unable to connect with the Fury at all. Instead, she needed to use the control panels like any genetic human. It meant a lot of limitations, but this experience helped her understand her mother better.
If Mae was inside the synthetic network, she’d have immediate access to the flight data and could inform Zula in an instant. Instead, Mae peered down at the navigation screen, as reliant on it as any genetic human would be.
Another emotion she got the opportunity to study: frustration.
“We’re still on the attacker’s trajectory, according to the anomalies we’re following. The calculations haven’t changed.”
Zula gave the slightest of nods. “EWA, how are the engines holding up?”
Erynis replied from the shadows. “We are operating at ninety-six percent capacity, with all signs nominal.”
The colonel grunted at that before rubbing her eyes. She gave a ragged sigh.
Mae detected a tiny tremor in her right hand. All the Jackals slept in their cryogenic hibernation chambers, which was how most humans survived the dangers of deep space. However, Zula declined to climb into one on this journey.
Instead, she drank a lot of coffee and ate a lot of stimulant rations. Mae hid some to make sure her mother wasn’t about to give herself a stroke. This state wasn’t healthy for any human, though—even one like Colonel Zula Hendricks.
The crew being in stasis allowed the Fury to conserve its resources as it raced after the strange ship. Zula dragged her cot into her ready room and kept the bridge sealed and oxygenated. Mae calculated how much rest and sustenance her mother took in.
It was never enough.
That was where they were stuck, however. Zula Hendricks was her mother, but she was also her commanding officer. Mae couldn’t tell her what to do, but maybe she could try a little subtlety.
Mae turned from the screen. “Mother, since the Fury is on track and nothing needs your immediate attention, do you think you might rest some more?”
She’d studied all the information available on improving the parent–child relationship. Unfortunately, the majority of it was about small children, and nothing at all about one being a synthetic.
The tone of voice Mae used was chosen carefully to be neither demanding nor insulting. She’d even considered whether widening her eyes to mimic a small child might help.
Zula’s lips twisted, and she dropped her head for an instant. When she looked up, the small lines around her mouth were more prominent, as if she was also being careful with her words. “While I appreciate your concern, Mae, I am more than old enough to decide when I go to bed.”
Mae let out a laugh. It echoed in the empty bridge but didn’t earn even a slight smile from her mother. She would have done anything to access the files Davis made during all his time with humanity. Unfortunately, when his particular subroutine stopped responding, she lost the permissions to his information. However, even without it, she was certain that the noise she’d just let out hadn’t helped matters.
Zula locked eyes with her. Though they couldn’t risk EWA finding out about Mae’s true nature, so a sharp glance was all she allowed herself.
“You need to practice your diplomacy skills, daughter.” She pushed herself up from the command chair. “But you’re right. First thing you learn in the military is to take your sleep where you can.” She stared out the window for 5.03 seconds, as if seeing tragedies long past. “I used to be great at doing that, but since Shānmén—well, not so much.”
They’d both seen a lot of horror on that planet’s surface. In the body of a combat android, Mae had even experienced battle. Like her father, she contained all the programming needed to excel at it. However, she found she didn’t truly enjoy it. Perhaps being more human made her less useful in that capacity.
Zula stretched, grimacing at the popping of cartilage and muscle strain that hadn’t quite healed from a lifetime of wounds. As she leaned against the doorframe to her ready room, she shot her daughter a piercing look. “Getting old isn’t for the faint of heart.”
Mae wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. She’d never understand what her mother was going through, because she’d never age. Maybe that was the whole point of her comment. Regardless, she decided not to attempt another laugh. Instead, she experimented with a nervous grin and a shrug.
Zula snorted. “You’re learning, girl, but I suggest you keep at it. I would have gone with a nod on that one.”
“Noted.”
Mae’s ears picked up the faintest of whines a moment before the klaxon sounded. It roared through the bridge, spinning Zula around on her heels and bringing her back to the command chair.
Mae, cognizant of her need to appear human, raced over to her own seat and buckled herself in.
“Erynis, status report,” Zula barked out.
The synthetic took a step out of the shadows. “EWA has detected the ship we’re pursuing has changed course unexpectedly.”
The Fury’s screen flashed green and then displayed a trail of particulate matter veering away from the projected course. If it wasn’t for the dust cloud orbiting the moon they were passing, even EWA’s advanced sensors might have missed it.
“I don’t see the vessel,” Zula snapped, leaning forward. “Get my command team out of stasis, stat. Emergency protocol and prepare for fast burn.”
The Fury’s bridge crew were in nearby cryopods, ready for any change in situation. EWA kept them in light stasis, not the deep slumber of the regular Jackals.
“Already done,” Erynis replied. “I have initiated those protocols, and they should be on deck in five standard minutes.”
Mae glanced over her shoulder. “Should I move to tactile command?”
Zula jerked her head. “I’d like a human finger on those buttons. Get over there.”
Mae unbuckled and hurried to the tactile station. Spread out in front of her was complete access to the Fury’s full complement of armaments. Her eyes darted over the screen. “No tracking lock yet?”
Erynis’s voice, when it came, contained a tone that might have been snippy. “There is none to be had. EWA’s evaluation of the disturbance indicates that the enemy ship is on the dark side of the thirteenth moon.”
They’d been tracking the strange horseshoe-shaped ship for a long time, and it’d never given any indication that it was aware of the Fury’s pursuit. Though they’d been careful to stay out of long-range scanners, no one on board—not even EWA—was certain of the ship’s capabilities.
Zula instructed them to stay twice as far away from it as their own long-range scanners could reach. They tracked it by the disturbance it left in the systems it passed—a residue of a signal. They’d gotten lucky that the mining team on Shānmén detected and recorded that signal. Waves of any kind left a faint echo in the space they passed.
Without this knowledge, they would have lost the ship not long after it left UPP space.
Their target communicated with someone off and on, while the Fury ran completely dark.
“How’d they spot us?” Zula muttered.
The obvious conclusion was that someone betrayed them—all the suspects were human. Mae said nothing, but her mother must’ve been circling the same conclusion.
Three generals from the three human factions supplied the Righteous Fury. They came from the Union of Progressive Peoples, the United Americas, and the Three World Empire. The possibilities were endless for how a leak might have sprung up. With more people involved, the risks climbed. It was pure statistics. An aide or a lover could easily have sold them out. The other option was that one general changed their mind on this entire operation. The ramifications of that were far worse.
“Unknown,” Erynis replied for EWA. “My calculations predict the optimum time for them to attack will be as we exit the orbital well of Sedna. Shall I cut the engines and alter course?”
Zula let out a long breath. It hissed over her teeth as she considered. “If we were in a fleet, that would make sense, but we’re showing all our ass out here on our own. Soon as we give a signal, they’ll come barreling around that moon with the orbital advantage down on us. Right now, they don’t know we’ve figured them out.”
Mae’s fingers hovered over the controls, waiting for a signal. An idea ignited in her brain, but she hesitated for a micro-second. Apparently, even an artificial person could experience anxiety. Once they lost tracking on this ship that rained down death, they might never find another.
Spinning in her chair, she offered some insight. “This ship has never encountered the Fury before, and they can’t know we are tracking their hidden signal. They have spotted us, but perhaps we can encourage them to think it is a chance encounter, and we haven’t detected them yet?”
Erynis tilted his head and fixed her with his gleaming eyes. “They will know the probabilities of that are—”
Mae held up her hand as she interjected. “But they’re not zero. They’ve spotted us, and we won’t be able to run silent on them again. So we must show we’re not a threat.”
Zula leaned forward in her chair. “What are you suggesting?”
“We fake an ignition failure in the engines? Give them a reason to break lunar orbit early, or even better, leave us to burn up in the atmosphere.”
Her mother’s eyes hardened on her. “How would you do that?”
“We flicker our shields, eject a few missiles and explode them. From that distance, it has a chance of being seen as damage to the reactor core. We have been running them hot, so it’s not that unlikely. That would allow us to slow down, float with the ejection, and go broadside to them.” Mae grinned. “Bring those railguns into play. We could even spin to port, eject more metal in their path, but keep the debris field in front of us. I would suggest the supply barrels we took on last station fall.”
“You’re sneaky, girl! Davis would be proud. The crew will just have to make do with k-rations.” Zula leaped to her feet. “EWA, do as Mae commands, and where’s my goddamn crew?”
“Here, ma’am!”
Major Ronny Yoo and Lieutenant Gabriella Rossi appeared in the bridge’s doorway. Yoo slid his lean form into the XO’s chair while Rossi took her place at navigation. One curl of her dark hair was loose. It spoke to the severity of the situation that she didn’t even notice. EWA could run the ship herself, but the colonel preferred humans to be in place to make those life-or-death decisions.
Strapping in, Yoo and Rossi wore drawn and pained expressions. Rapid ejection from cryosleep pods would do that. However, EWA administered a massive dose of drugs to keep them sharp. The effects would only last an hour, but then more drugs would be pumped into their system. If death didn’t get in the way.
“Stand by for fast burn.” Zula buckled in. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but we might need to accelerate at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Major Yoo said.
All the chairs with humans in them inflated, locking them in place. To maintain the illusion, Mae did the same. Erynis strapped his synthetic body to the wall, so it didn’t fly around during any tight maneuvers.
“We’re going to fake damage,” Zula said to Yoo and Rossi. “It’ll buy us a little time and hopefully convince them they don’t need to turn and fire, but if they do, let’s be ready.”
“Should I wake the whole ship?” Erynis enquired. That was beyond the automatic parameters set on EWA, but Zula maintained the authority to do it.
The colonel glanced at the three other people on the bridge. “Nothing they can do to change the outcome—that’s up to us. Best stay in their pods, and if this goes south, we’ll evacuate them to the planet.”
Death in cyrosleep wasn’t the worst fate for a soldier—at least it would be painless. Though knowing the Jackals as she did, Mae believed they’d rather go down fighting. Since there wasn’t any combat for them, her mother must’ve believed she was doing them a kindness.
“You got that fake-out ready, EWA?”
“Confirmed,” Erynis said.
“Then hit them with our best act.” Zula’s hands tightened on the arms of her chair.
The Fury’s engines spun up louder as EWA started her impression of their failure. It wouldn’t do for their energy signature to give the game away. The magnetic field surrounding the ship was invisible. Mae watched the defensive station display over Major Yoo’s shoulder. It dipped in a remarkable impression of the consequences of an engine failure.
“Now fire those missiles, Lieutenant Hendricks.”
“Yes, ma’am. Missiles away.” She punched the button. On the display screen, the missiles zipped away, their path shown by a ragged line of dots. They didn’t get far. Mae detonated them just outside minimum safe distance. They might fool their enemy into thinking they’d ejected one engine.
“Now, hard to port, Rossi. Throw out those barrels. See if this bastard is afraid of a nose full of metal.”
With any of the human galactic powers, Zula and her Jackals knew what their armaments and capabilities were. That was the worst part of this: they were fighting blind. They could only hope that the dropping of the black pathogen was the primary weapon. If they were lucky, this unknown ship was the equivalent of an ancient Earth airplane designed for bombing runs and not much else.
Mae’s gaze flickered to the missile counter. They still had plenty left. If the Fury was running blind on the capabilities of their enemy, then with any luck, the reverse was also true. Their display might fool the strange ship, and not knowing their missile capacity, come in hot down the gravity well.
The bridge fell silent for a moment. If this display brought them in close enough without firing, the Fury might strike first.
“Enemy ship has broken lunar orbit,” Erynis intoned. “She is moving into planetary orbit. Closing in on us.”
“Fuck me, that’s fast.” Rossi’s hands flickered over the navigational display.
“Lieutenant Hendricks, can you get a lock?” Zula asked. “EWA, assist.”
Protocol said no synthetic mind was allowed to fire weapons, but on request, it could calculate trajectories faster than any human brain.
“Unable to comply,” Erynis said from his spot, strapped to the wall. “The enemy ship is blocking our attempts to get weapons lock.”
“We’ll fire straight up their throat, then.”
“Is the debris field slowing them down?” Rossi asked, her voice calm as she monitored the defensive shields and the engine’s health.
“Negative,” Erynis said as the ominous shape bore down on them. “Their shields must be constructed differently. They are de-atomizing the metal in front of them rather than deflecting them magnetically.”
“Fantastic,” Zula ground out. “Rossi, plot us the hell out of this debris field with maximum thrust. Let’s see how they handle rock.”
Watching the enemy ship move so quickly towards them was alarming. Mae calculated their diminishing odds. With no backup, they were not good.
Everything the Jackals fought for might die out here in the dark, with no one to take note. The murderers of Shānmén would go unpunished and the fate of the Righteous Fury would end up just another mystery in the annals of space travel.