Into the Void
Author: J. N. Chaney; Jonathan P. Brazee
Date: 2023-05-14 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction
Description: The Exile Fleet has been decimated, but the mission must go on. What other choice do they have? With most of the officers KIA, Sergeant Major Reverent Pelletier has to step up to lead the ground force. Meanwhile, the remaining ships ply the far reaches on unexplored space to identify potential threats to humanity. And as the saying goes, if you search for trouble, trouble will often find you. With peace at home beginning to break down, the Exile Fleet is on its own as it tries to fulfill its mission. . . and not get killed in the process. Join Rev, Tomiko and the rest as they forge an unpreced
Publisher: Variant Publications

Copyrighted Material

Into the Void Copyright © 2023 by Variant Publications

Book design and layout copyright © 2023 by JN Chaney

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

www.jnchaney.com

www.jonathanbrazee.com

1st Edition

CONTENTS

Don’t Miss Out

Previously in Sentenced to War

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Glossary

Nations, Independent Worlds, and Political Entities Within the Congress of Humanity

Cast of Characters

Acknowledgments

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PREVIOUSLY IN SENTENCED TO WAR

When humanity joined the other races, the tide began to turn against the Naxli. Humanity’s willingness to take it to the enemy was the impetus for a series of military victories.

The Naxli have been defeated, their home world destroyed. The war is reduced to mopping up fragments of the enemy in small corners of the galaxy, and humanity’s military forces are recalled home.

But to what?

Without the threat of the Naxli, not only are humanity and the other races starting to view each other as rivals, but factions also break down and old enmities resurface. The existence of the Genesians becomes common knowledge, and that turns the attention onto the various hyper-augments, the very same troops that helped win both the war with the Centaurs and the Naxlis.

Fear and suspicion force the governments who have hyper-augments to order them on an expedition to seek out new threats to humanity in the far reaches of the galaxy—which is a nice way of saying they’ve all been exiled.

Along with a scientific staff, who are assigned to the expedition for only three years, a military escort, the surviving Genesians, and a group of Kanters, they leave human space to seek out the unknown.

Aside from being a way to get rid of the hyper-augments, this is not a normal expedition, starting with the fact that Tomiko is pregnant, something that does not become known until after the expedition has left human space. And when the twins, Willow and Aspen, are born, the military mindset of the command shifts to accommodate the new reality.

It's not just the twins that make this expedition unique. There is a considerable amount of shaking down as the civilians, the temporary military forces, the hyper-augments, and the different ships figure out how to function as a unified command.

The first several missions, all to lifeless planets, serve as training. But real life has a way of interposing itself. When a contact is discovered, they realize that it’s one of the long-lost century ships from humankind’s first leap outside of the home system. The current passengers have no idea of their history or their place within humanity.

The expedition’s first contact is with fellow humans as they enter the ship to assess the situation. Violence breaks out, and Rev and the others have to calm things down. Back on Titan, the Council decides to send a rescue team while the expedition is ordered to continue their mission.

Not all of the objectives are lifeless. One of the mission priorities is to find “Goldilocks” planets where the environment is “just right” to support human life. NP-33945 is just one planet. Humans can survive on it without artificial supports, but they wouldn’t be alone. “Forty-five” is teaming with life reminiscent of the huge herds on the Serengeti back on Earth.

Initially, the humans are ignored by the fauna, but that breaks down when the largest life-form, nicknamed “buffalo” for their vague resemblance to giant cape buffalo, attack the camp, and Rev and his Marines are in a fight more dangerous than any he’s had against human or other foes. Not all survive, but those who do cede the planet to its native life-forms. The planet’s eventual fate will be decided by Titan.

Not all threats are obvious, though. When a statistically improbable number of equipment breaks down, Rev suspects sabotage. So does Agent Wolf, the Omega Division agent who Rev thinks is there to spy on the expedition. But with the sabotage threat, they have to work together to ferret out the saboteur. With Punch’s assistance, they set up an elaborate trap to get past the saboteur’s safeguards and nab her.

Rev and Tomiko are juggling their military missions with their duties in rearing their daughters. But they aren’t going to be alone in that for long. Love has a way to rear its head, and with the help of Dr. Rima, the expedition’s chief medical officer, the implants that prevent pregnancy are removed, and other women conceive.

Instead of the expedition being a dead end as the members age and finally die off, they now have hope. With a new generation, they have a future.

To be parents.

1

There were long faces as Lieutenant Colonel Aristotle Bundy said in a quiet voice, “It’s become painfully obvious that I’ve developed into a liability to the mission. I’m no longer able to fulfill the requirements of my position, so this morning, I requested a transfer back to Safe Harbor, where I’ll resign my commission.”

His eyes glistened with moisture. And his were not the only ones. Sergeant Major Reverent Pelletier, Bundy’s best friend, let out a choking gasp as tears rolled down his face.

He’d known this was coming. Bundy had deteriorated quickly after the task force left Forty-five, the buffalo planet. He hadn’t even made planetfall during the next two missions, and he’d been bedridden for much of the transit to the third, leaving Rev the de facto commander of the Marine ground force. No matter how much Bundy had insisted that he was staying with the unit, he just couldn’t go on.

Still, it hurt Rev to see his friend like this. Bundy was . . . well, Bundy! He’d been in his sixties when he enlisted back during the Centaur War after the death of his wife—still middle-aged, but boot camp wasn’t designed for middle-aged, out-of-shape men. Yet he’d persevered, not only to make it through training, but also to become a Direct Combat Marine. It didn’t stop there. He was the only one from their recruit class to get commissioned, and he’d become the finest officer Rev had ever known.

And now, he was dying, a victim of Weislen’s Syndrome—the rot.

Rev stood up and walked to Bundy, breaking all sorts of rank protocol, and put his arms around his friend. His tears fell on the shorter man’s shoulders while Bundy’s tears soaked through Rev’s utility blouse.

“You get back there and let the docs deal with it. Navy medicine’s come a long way since we came in, you know.”

Bundy sniffed. His arms slowly came around Rev, and he held him tight.

“Not that far,” he said, almost in a whisper.

“Bullshit. They’re getting a grasp on it, Bundy. You know that. Don’t give up.”

Bundy sniffed again but more assertively. “I won’t. The reaper will have to drag me kicking and screaming.”

“That’s more like it,” Rev said, giving the CO one last squeeze before stepping back.

Tomiko was waiting her turn. She and Rev had been with Bundy from the day they’d stepped on the yellow footprints at boot camp.

“I’m not leaving yet,” Bundy said. “I just wanted to let you know before it became common knowledge.”

Tomiko ignored him and eased into her own hug while Rev went back to his seat to give them a little privacy.

The two of them might have known Bundy the longest, but each of the company’s eight other Marine SNCOs wanted their moment with the CO. Tomiko returned to sit next to Rev, taking his hand in hers. There was a pointed silence between them, though, as Strap had his words with Bundy.

Tomiko was the only one there who knew Rev’s own numbers were rising. If Bundy’s condition had accelerated so quickly, what did Rev’s future hold? And unlike Bundy, who was a volunteer, this was a lifetime assignment for Rev. As an exile, there was no returning to the Union to seek advanced medical care.

Bundy was visibly tiring, but he had a quiet word with each of them, then half-collapsed into the seat at the head of the conference table.

“Like I said, I’m not leaving tomorrow. After this meeting, I’ll inform the Wahoo’s CO that I’ll be returning with them. So, you’ll have to put up with me for three more weeks.”

The others gave too-enthusiastic laughs. It hadn’t been that funny, but it was a relief to have something, anything, to break the mood.

“Does Njuguna know?” Kelly asked.

“I wanted to tell you first. But I’ll inform her today. She’ll want to know how that’s going to affect the mission. Who’ll be in charge and all of that.”

Several sets of eyes turned toward Rev. Normally, another officer would step up, but after Forty-five, there were no officers.

“That’ll be you, Rev,” Bundy said. “And while I hate to curse you with the daily meetings, I’m afraid you’ll be going to those as of today.”

Rev grunted. He hated the circle jerk the meetings with the civilian and Navy side had become. He’d been to more than a few as Bundy’s health had started to fail. But if he could spare the CO and let the man rest, then he’d gladly attend them.

“At least for a while,” Bundy continued, which immediately caught Rev’s attention.

“HQMC informed me that another ship is being prepared to take the Wahoo’s place, and they’ll be sending out another field grade officer to take over the company. Probably with a few others to fill in some of the positions.”

That was something of a gut punch, one that Rev hadn’t expected. And he wasn’t sure what he thought of it.

Yes, he hated the mundane routine that officers had to endure, but this was his company. There were no more IBHU Marines being created. There were no Marine officers who were actually exiled. He’d assumed that the company would fall to him.

He had no idea who HQMC would send out to take over, but whoever it was wouldn’t understand the company. They wouldn’t be part of the family, so to speak. They’d be commanded by an outsider.

“What’s our relationship with the Mad Dogs? They’ve still got officers. And the Bugs have two of them,” Tomiko asked.

Bundy bit his lip, a sure sign that he didn’t want to say what he was about to.

That’s not a good sign.

“We still don’t know the breakdown of the Mad Dogs on the Strike Eagle. But even with Colonel-Captain Sjekvic KIA, we can bet they’ve got officers, and probably someone senior to Captain Zucarro. I don’t have firm guidance yet, but one of the Mad Dogs will probably take over the military side.”

Oh, just freakin’ great. While I wait for some headquarters desk jockey to come take over, I’ll have a Mad Dog in command.

Rev was devastated that Bundy was leaving, but this was salt in the wound.

Bundy turned to Rev and continued. “But I don’t think they’ll be here on the Galaxy Explorer. You’ll be in command of the ground pounders here and run the company.”

“I don’t suppose we can just forget to tell the Mad Dogs that you’re leaving?” Rev asked, only half in jest.

The others laughed, and Bundy said, “I would if I could, Sergeant Major. Believe me.”

He laughed at his own joke, and that turned into a coughing fit. By the time he stopped, he was pale and exhausted. Rev stepped in.

“Thanks for cluing us in, sir. But, like you said, you’re not leaving yet. And these malcontents all have work to do for planetfall. So, let’s break up this meeting for now so you can brief the Wahoo and Njuguna.”

He stood and pointed at the hatch. “Back to work.”

As the others stood, Bundy said, “If you’ll stay for a moment, Sergeant Major?”

Rev nodded and waited until the last Marine had left the conference room before he moved to the chair closest to Bundy and sat down.

“How are you doing?” Rev asked.

“Disappointed that I’m leaving.”

“I don’t mean that. How are you doing?”

Bundy sighed and said, “It comes and goes. Not well, though.”

“What are your numbers?”

Bundy tried to wave a dismissive hand, but Rev asked again, “Your PPCAs.”

He frowned, then said, “One-eighty-eight.”

Rev’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But . . . you were . . .”

“Yeah. One-fifty-three.”

Rev leaned back in his chair as it sunk in. That was a huge jump in just five weeks.

“What does Rima say?”

“She says I’m sick,” he said with a poor attempt at humor. When Rev didn’t laugh, he added, “She says the progression is quicker than usual. It probably has to do with my age when I got my augments, but she’s not sure.”

“Can she up your Criosol?”

Bundy shook his head. “I’m already at the max. Any more would be toxic.” He gave a snorting laugh and said, “Wouldn’t want to get me addicted, right?”

“How long?”

“Without going back? Maybe three months. Two. Who the hell knows?”

That soon?

“And you’re waiting three weeks to go back? Who even knows how many jumps it’ll take the Wahoo to make the trip?”

Bundy shrugged. “What, they’re not going to send the Wahoo back early just for me?”

They should, Rev thought, all the while knowing the military didn’t work that way. He knew Bundy was being facetious, but Rev thought he deserved it after all he’d done for the Union.

They sat there for a moment before Bundy asked, “Do you really think Anastasia can do anything for me?”

With his own rot creeping up on him, Rev had asked Punch, his embedded AI, to keep up on all of the advances in treating the rot, and while Naval Hospital Anastasia was a good facility for a provincial planet, it wasn’t the best in the Union.

“I’d make them take you to New Mars. And yes, I think they can do you some good.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? You need the best care. You’ve earned it.”

“But, if I’m tilting at windmills, maybe I’d like to spend my . . . my last time with my grandkids.”

Rev winced. He hadn’t really thought about that. He’d just wanted Bundy to make it. He wanted his friend to live.

And maybe part of it would be the knowledge that if Bundy made it, then maybe Rev could when his time came, too.

Except you’re an exile, Reverent. You can’t go back.

Rev shoved that thought from his mind.

Bundy started coughing again, and Rev reached out to take his hand, wishing there was something else he could do. But the coughing ceased, and his friend took his hand back to run his forearm across his mouth. Rev couldn’t see if he was wiping blood or phlegm.

“I’m uh . . . a little beat, Rev.”

“Do you want me to help you back to your stateroom?” Rev asked as he stood up.

Bundy shook his head. “No, I think I’ll just sit here for a bit, if you don’t mind. But if you could leave now, that would be great.”

Rev had a sudden vision of Bundy dying there and of finding his body in a few hours, still sitting in the commander’s chair. He was tempted to call Dr. Rima, but he knew Bundy wouldn’t want that.

“OK, I’ll get back to work, then. If you need anything, just hit your wristcomp.”

Bundy raised a hand in acknowledgment.

Rev stood there for a moment, then turned toward the hatch.

“And if you can turn off the light?”

“Sure thing, Bundy.”

He hit the switch as he left the conference room, and the hatch hissed to a close.

2

“Boo uni!”

“I don’t see your blue unicorn, Willow,” Rev said.

“Boo uni!”

“She is saying ‘blue unicorn,’ right, Punch?”

<I think so.>

“You think so? You can decipher the Loman’s Haven’s crew, but not the girls?”

<This is more difficult. I need more than a few words to work with.>

“Boo uni!” Willow said with more urgency.

“OK, OK, little girl. Patience!”

Rev stood up, leaving Aspen on the couch, happily engrossed in a picture book. Even without the pink bow securing her pigtails, just the fact that she was quietly reading—well, looking at the book meant that was his younger-by-fifteen-minutes daughter. Without the different color bows, he still couldn’t tell them apart by sight, much to the enjoyment of—and teasing from—Tomiko.

They were in their stateroom, which while larger than he had any right to expect, really wasn’t very big. It continually amazed him that as small as the space was, they continually lost toys, socks, bottles, and various other baby items.

Rev looked under the couch. There were toys there, but not the two unicorns that one of the sailors had made for the girls. The head was next. Willow toddled after him, her hands clasped together as she watched him with a hopeful expression on her face. He peered into the toilet, dreading finding them there, but it was empty.

“Where did you put it, Willie-girl?”

A crunch made him freeze. He carefully lifted his foot, then quickly put it down again. He’d just crushed a small green dragon, and he didn’t want Willow to see it damaged like that.

At least I wasn’t barefoot.

“OK, let’s go back out, Willow,” he said, turning her and ushering the little girl back into the stateroom. He kicked the remains of the dragon to the side as he stepped out.

He was still ransacking the stateroom when Punch reminded him, <Your meeting’s in ten minutes.>

Rev automatically checked the time. Needlessly. His battle buddy wasn’t going to have that wrong.

He chuckled at the thought. His battle buddy was one of the most advanced combat AIs of war, and now he was a glorified nanny’s assistant.

He opened up his wristcomp, made the connection, and said, “Miko, where are you? I’ve got my meeting?”

“I’m held up with the Lamix. The readings are off.”

“Sabotage?” Rev immediately asked.

“No, we don’t think so. We’re still within the operating parameters, but I want to get the numbers better before the mission.”

Maybe he was being too sensitive to the potential. There hadn’t been any more obvious signs of sabotage since Laron was locked in the brig, but he lived in constant fear that there was another saboteur just waiting to strike.

“OK. I understand. But can’t you leave that to Kelly? I need to make the meeting.”

“I really need to get this done, Rev. And we’ve got the Lamix out of the deployment capsules and spread across the deck. I asked Kat to go over and relieve you, though. She should be there any minute.”

“She’d better be. If not, I’m taking the girls with me.”

“Yeah. Bane will love that,” she said with a snort.

Captain Bane, the skipper of the Galaxy Explorer, had proven to be a capable commanding officer, but he was old school, and it was obvious that he was not a fan of having infants on a capital ship. And soon enough, it would be more than the twins. There were now nine pregnancies among the Marines, sailors, and civilians aboard the ship.

It was a veritable baby boom, all orchestrated by Dr. Rima.

The door whisked open, and Rev’s sister came in.

“Kat’s here. I’ll let you go. Love you,” he said, then cut the connection with Tomiko.

Willow immediately turned away from Rev and ran on shaky legs to Kat. Even Aspen put down her book and raised her arms to her.

“Boo uni!” Willow told her.

“Hey, Big Brother,” she said as she brushed by him, lifted the upper bunk mattress, and pulled out two blue unicorns.

She sat on the couch and handed one to each girl as they happily snuggled up beside her.

“How did you know they were there?” Rev asked.

“Where else would they be?”

Rev just shook his head, then said, “I’ve got to go. I just changed Aspen, and they had their bottles about an hour ago.” He stepped up to the couch and put his hand on Willow’s forehead. “I think she was a little warm, so pay attention to that. If she starts running a fever, call Dr. Rima and—”

“I’ve got it, Rev,” she said, reaching up to put a forefinger over his lips. “Just go.”

He gave each girl a kiss on the forehead, then ran out the door, down the corridor, and below a deck, reaching the conference room with seconds to spare. He was the last to arrive, which wasn’t a good look for his first meeting as the official ground force commander.

He opened his mouth to explain that he was watching the girls, then shut it.

Screw them. They don’t need to know, and I’m here.

Rev was the only Marine present. Captain Bane had several of his staff, and Dr. Njuguna had four of hers. Being in bubble space, none of the leadership on the other ships were virtually present.

Rev nodded to Doctors Teo and Hyung, the only ones he was on socially friendly terms with, and took one of the remaining free chairs.

“If that’s everyone, let’s get going,” Njuguna said. “Captain Bane?”

She was nominally in charge of the task force, but Captain Bane was, for all intents and purposes, running the show up until the time the first Marines left the ship. After that . . . well, it would be either the senior MDS or Bugatti officer. They wouldn’t know who that was until they emerged from bubble space.

“Welcome, everyone. We’ve got a lot to cover, but before we begin, a couple of things. If you haven’t heard, Lieutenant Colonel Bundy will not be joining us. Due to his declining health, he’s stepped down, and Sergeant Major Pelletier will be representing him until another officer can be sent out to take command of the ground forces.”

“Uh, that’s not quite right, sir,” Rev said.

The captain leaned back in surprise. “It’s not?”

“No, sir. I am not representing Colonel Bundy. I am taking command of the ground force. At least the Galaxy Explorer’s ground force. Once we leave the ship, as per SOP, I will be commanding our operations on each objective until we return.”

Bane’s eyes narrowed, and Rev steeled himself, but after a brief hesitation, the captain said, “Of course, Sergeant Major. I didn’t intend to imply anything else.”

Only Rev wasn’t too sure about that. Rev had officially taken command the day before, and Bane had summoned him to a private meeting. He’d said all the right things, but the manner in which he’d said them left a lot to be desired. Rev got the feeling that the captain didn’t accept Rev as the co-equal his position made him, and that Bane seemed to feel that the Marines, soldiers, and Legionnaires now belonged to him.

Rev wasn’t going to start a pissing contest with the captain. As an enlisted Marine, even a sergeant major, that was a battle he’d lose. But he also wasn’t going to roll over. He had to make that clear from the outset.

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

It was a small victory but an important one.

Bane turned his attention back to the rest of the leadership. “The second thing is, well . . . we received a message torp before we left NP-3098, restricted One-C. But Dr. Njuguna and I have discussed it, and we don’t see any reason not to promulgate it to you.”

You and Njuguna? I should have been part of the decision-making.

“But it is sensitive, and given the fact that we are a multinational force, we’re directing that this be kept close to the vest for now.”

Because we’re multinational? What’s going on?

Rev’s interest was piqued, and that trumped his annoyance at the fact that he’d been bypassed.

“War has broken out back home,” he said.

There were a lot of surprised faces—Rev’s included.

“Not war, Rand,” Njuguna said.

“OK, hostilities, if you like that better. Mona Hold.”

The tense faces around the table relaxed somewhat. Any hostilities were bad, but Mona Hold was a festering problem in human space. It had been a low-grade conflict off and on for decades. Clashes, some serious, resulted in negotiated cease-fires until the next fight.

The MDS claimed it, but so did the Osnovnoy Alyanz. Both had forces on the planet and controlled territory, and both had lucrative ongoing mining operations. Profits were high, which was probably why a planet-wide war hadn’t broken out. No one wanted to cut off the flow.

The majority of the other governments recognized the Alyanz claim. A handful recognized the MDS claim.

For part of the Centaur War, and then during the Naxli War, the Council of Humanity had declared the planet’s output vital to the war effort and had negotiated a cease-fire, putting two Bugatti’s World battalions on the planet as a buffer force.

“Given the Strike Eagle, you can see that it’s probably best that we don’t make an issue of this.”

“Won’t the Mad Dogs command have told them, the same as we know?” Commander Nyad, the Galaxy Explorer’s XO, asked.

Which was exactly what Rev was wondering.

“And I’m sure they’ll choose not to bring it up with us.”

I hope so.

“So, the Pax Naxliana is over,” Dr. Teo said.

Rev furrowed his eyebrows at that until he realized what she meant. The war against the Naxli had been the existential threat that the Centaurs had never risen to. All human conflicts had been put on hold, so to speak. Even those outside of civilized humanity had come on board with a huge drop in piracy and raids.

If the MDS and Osnovnoy Alyanz were sliding back to their old ways on Mona Hold, then the kumbaya cooperation was fading away. How long before something more serious broke out?

And more pertinent to Rev and the rest of the Marines, how would that affect the task force?

3

“Thanks for seeing us off,” Rev told an emaciated Bundy.

“I wish I was going,” he said wistfully. “Our first unplanned objective. And a Goldilocks to boot.”

“You remember what happened on the last Goldilocks,” Rev reminded his friend.

“Well, keep your head on a swivel and steer clear of any buffalo.”

“If I see a buffalo, I’m taking the next shuttle back to the ship,” Rev said with a laugh.

The mere fact that this was an unplanned objective had raised the excitement level, though, and Rev understood Bundy’s desire to see the planet.

Every other objective to date had been set by Titan and based on the systems categorized by the thousands of scout pilots who’d been searching for the Naxli home world. Not so EFP-1—Exile Fleet Planet 1, as they’d decided to designate it. While planetside on the last mission, the ships in the fleet continued to scan the surrounding space, and the Loup-Garou had picked up the system first. Then, as the data came in about the sixth planet (EFP-1 was an anti-ordered system, with the gas giants closer in and the smaller, potentially habitable ones farther out), Dr. Njuguna and her team had become more and more convinced that the system should become their next objective.

The task force still had a list of over two hundred potential objectives, but they’d never been limited to them. Technically, the good doctor had the authority to assign missions, but Captain Bane could override her on security concerns. With the allure of something new, though, especially a Goldilocks planet, and without an objection by Bane, there had never been a question. EFP-1 was their next destination.

“No signs of sapient life?” Bundy asked.

That had been a question before they left NP-3098. The Loup-Garou’s scanners were good, but not that good. They could determine there was oxygen-breathing life, and that there were no signs of hydrocarbon emissions that might accompany civilization, but not much more. And they were observing the planet from about 132 years ago. That wasn’t much time for a civilization to enter a manufacturing age, but it was possible.

“No. Nothing. But lots of animal life.” He paused, then said, “You know, once we get settled, maybe you can come down for a day. See the planet. One last passport stamp until you go back home.”

“I think I’d like that, Rev,” Bundy said. “It’d be up to Major Galik, though.”

Major Galik was the new MDS commanding officer of the Strike Eagle. Unlike most services, the MDS only had an Army. It didn’t matter if they fought on the ground or on ships. And when they’d been informed that Bundy was no longer in command, Galik had decided to command all of the ground forces as well, not just the MDS troops.

“I’ll take care of Galik, sir. I think he’d like it, having you as a guest.”

“Well, let me know. I’d enjoy one last hurrah. But look at me, keeping you from your job.”

Rev reached out with his organic arm and placed his gauntleted hand on Bundy’s shoulder. “You take it easy up here and wait for my call.”

He left Bundy and made his way across the hangar bay, then to his shuttle. Most of the other landing crew were already aboard. He grabbed his seat.

“How long?” he asked Punch.

<Twelve minutes.>

“Are you ready for this?”

<There isn’t much I can do to prepare for anything. I’m just a combat AI.>

“I didn’t mean it like that, Punch. You know that. It’s just that we’re going to a planet with life. You do like new information, right? At least that’s what you always tell me.”

<Yes, you are correct. I apologize for my sarcastic comment. And yes, I am looking forward to discovering what we’ll find on the planet.>

Rev tried to read into what Punch just said. He had a difficult time knowing when Punch was being sarcastic. This was something new in his battle buddy, and without facial expressions or changes in tone, Rev couldn’t usually tell.

He just decided to take the comment at face value.

“OK, then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

* * *

“The repellers are in place,” Kelly reported to Rev.

“Roger that. Start on the Lamix, and I’ll let the Mad Dogs know.”

The repellers were simple sonic projectors capable of broadcasting through a wide range of frequencies. They were easy and quick to set up, and they were effective against most forms of Earth life. Hopefully, they were equally as effective against alien life forms.

Using the repellers was new to the SOP and could be overkill. But after Forty-five, the quick and easily activated repellers might give Kelly and her crew a little bit of protection as they set up the more time-consuming Lamix.

He called the MDS landing craft and cleared them to land.

On each of the previous missions, the company had run the security of the camp. With Major Galik now in command of the expedition’s ground forces, he’d shifted that responsibility to his soldiers. However, the Lamix Barriers were staged on the Galaxy Explorer, so the initial landing still had to be Rev and his Marines.

What was ironic was that the repellers they used were actually MDS pieces of gear, yet there were none on the Strike Eagle.

With the repellers in place, Rev took a moment to gather his bearings. His Marines, soldiers, and Legionnaires were in a general defensive position on a small, windswept hill overlooking a large, desolate plain. He shivered despite being protected from the elements by his PAL.

“Some Goldilocks,” he muttered.

<The environment here can sustain human life,> Punch reminded him.

“Yeah, and humans can live on Safe Harbor’s South Pole, too. That doesn’t mean it’s comfortable.”

This wasn’t the paradise that Forty-five would have been without the buffalo. The day was gloomy with a planet-wide overcast, and wind, audible even inside his PAL, whistled across the lichen-like ground cover. Small, wooly animals moved like miniature harvesting machines, clearing paths in the lichens down to the bare rock, and exposing what looked to be a few veins of metallic ore of some sort running through the surface. The animals didn’t seem to pose a threat, and he wasn’t sure what they could do even if they tried, but who knew what they were capable of?

Rev might not be impressed with what he’d seen so far, but he knew that any Goldilocks planet was cause for excitement. Terraforming was the most expensive aspect of colonization, and if people could live on a planet without life support, then humankind would find a way to make it viable.

“Besides, we’re a heck of a long way from the rest of humanity. It will be a long time before our fellow humans, or should I say, their great-great-a-bunch-of-greats grandchildren, get out this far.”

<If those veins of ore prove to be something humanity needs, it might be a lot sooner than that.>

Rev grunted. Punch was right, though. Humankind had a ravenous appetite for raw materials. And if a profit could be turned, then someone would come out this far.

On paper, their overall mission was to identify possible threats to humankind. But without the potential for profit, Rev didn’t think there would be six ships in the task force—soon to be five when the Wahoo detached after this mission.

“Bundy’s going to be disappointed that this is his last planet.”

<I would be, too.>

That response surprised Rev. The remark about the possible metallurgical deposits was more on brand for his battle buddy. What were the numbers? What could be quantified? But was it possible that he was disappointed, too?

“You’re getting to be too human, Punch.”

<Bite your tongue, meat.>

With a laugh, Rev turned from the view and stepped off to tour the line and check the positions. Major Galik would be in charge soon enough, but at the moment, he was still in command, and the responsibility for a solid defense was on his shoulders.

* * *

“Galik still on your ass?” Tomiko asked as Rev put his PAL into seat mode beside her.

“He’s a little manic,” Rev said. “More than a little.” He paused a moment and then added, “Well, he’s not so much on my ass to do stuff. Just asking questions. If anything, he’s edging us out of the way.”

“That’s the Mad Dogs for you. He’s probably creaming in his jeans to have them in charge of this.”

The last six hours had been rather a pain in the keister. Major Galik and his contingent had landed as the Lamix powered up and rushed to take charge, kicking ass and taking names. The Marines, and even the company’s MDS soldiers, had looked on with amusement as the soldiers took over with their overblown and unrestrained attitude of superiority.

But it became quickly apparent that they didn’t quite understand what had to be done. Not fifteen minutes after landing, and fourteen minutes after the major had formally taken over for Rev, the MDS officer had called him for assistance. Four more times since then, Rev had gone to the rescue and explained simple SOP, things they’d worked out over all of the previous missions.

Tomiko held out a mug of coffee. Rev grabbed it, retracted his face shield, and took a sip. Wind whistled in and whipped around his head. He took one more sip, handed it back, and gratefully sealed his helmet again.

They were cleared to remove their helmets, but except for the MDS soldiers, only a few others took advantage of it. The wind was too blustery and cold, and the helmets gave a welcomed respite from it.

The dust that had blown in, though, tickled his nose, and he suddenly sneezed, a big glob of snot splashing the inside of his face shield. Another strand ran down from his nose and over his lip.

“Oh, just friggin’ great.”

Tomiko looked up and laughed. “Pretty!”

Rev triggered a shield wipe, but that didn’t do anything for the snot on his lip. He could turn his head and use the pad that was there for that very reason, but he really didn’t want it inside the helmet at all. He turned away from the wind the best he could, opened the face shield, and quickly rubbed his lip with one of his gauntleted fingers and closed back up. He lifted his hand, and the wind whisked the string of snot away.

“Between you and me, Miko, I’d just as soon leave this one to the Mad Dogs and get back up to the girls.”

“Yeah, right, big boy. You’d be up there for an hour before you started worrying about what was happening down here. That’s our Lamix, after all.”

Rev chuckled. “You’re probably right. Still, I miss kissing the girls good night.”

Rev’s face shield lit up with an incoming file. A moment later, the image of both girls filled the display. They were sitting on the rack when an off-screen voice said, “One, two, three!”

Aspen laughed and repeated Dr. Rima while Willow just laughed.

“You just get this?” Rev asked.

“Forty minutes ago. Iris sent it.”

“What, the good doctor’s sending comms now?”

Tomiko just shrugged inside her PAL.

From a regulatory standpoint, Rima shouldn’t be using official comms for personal reasons during a mission. But then again, who was going to complain, and even if someone did, what would be the consequences?

Rev played it again before he cleared his display.

“Galik said that Njuguna’s leading the civilians this time,” Rev said.

“The big kahuna’s leaving the ship for the first time? This must be important.”

“That, or she’s got cabin fever. Anyway, he wants to have a personnel inspection before they land in the morning.”

“And you told him what?” she asked with the tone that she already had in mind what he should have told him.

“He’s the commander, Miko.”

“Separate chains. And you command us,” she said, voicing her disapproval.

But she left it at that.

Rev wasn’t sure what the MDS major was going to actually inspect. They were all in their PALs. And it wouldn’t hurt to clean up the camp a bit anyway.

“Do you want an E-Rat?” Tomiko asked.

Rev thought about it for a moment. Like all Marines—except for Bundy, it seemed—he hated the combat rations. E-Rats weren’t haute cuisine, but they were at least real food. That meant trying to eat them in the wind, though.

“I think I’ll wait until we’ve got some shelters up. That way—”

His helmet reverberated with the alert. He and Tomiko released the chair function and jumped to their feet. Rev immediately started running for the perimeter when Commander Nyad broke in over the P2P.

“Sergeant Major, we’ve got an incursion. Stand by, but it looks like we’re going to have to recall all of you.”

“Incursion? Where? I don’t see anything,” Rev said as he scanned the horizon.

“Not on the planet. Up here. Eight unidentified craft of some kind have entered the system. We are not alone.”

4

“Leave it, Kelly!” Rev passed on the P2P. “Board the landing craft!”

“Five more minutes, and we can load it!”

“There’s no time. Get on the damned craft now!”

“Mother fuck!” Kelly screamed in frustration before she cut the connection. A moment later, her crew started running from the half-assembled Lamix.

It had been thirty-three minutes since the intruders had entered the system. Rev had immediately ordered Kelly to start tearing down the Lamix, and five minutes after that, the combat AIs on the ships agreed that the alien ships were on an aggressive course toward them, giving an eighty-four percent probability that they were in either attack or feint mode.

The task force couldn’t take the chance that it was a feint. Captain Bane ordered an immediate recovery of the personnel on the ground and for the ships to prepare to retreat into bubble space.

If Kelly had been able to perform a miracle and gotten the Lamix ready for load out, Rev would have taken the extra few minutes to horse it onto the landing craft. But he couldn’t afford that if it wasn’t ready.

The landing craft was at the LZ now, ready to leave.

Rev waited until Kelly’s crew reached him before he spun around and sprinted after them. A crewman was at the foot of the ramp, waving them forward. Rev and Kelly were still ten meters away when he spun around, darted inside, and started to close the ramp. The two SNCOs jumped onto it as the landing craft lifted off.

“Sorry, Rev,” Kelly said. “We went as fast as we could.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got two more. And maybe we can come back to get it if this is all for nothing.”

“Not if the Wahoo slags it.”

There was significant concern that the expedition could trigger some sort of inimical interest from a yet unknown belligerent race, so steps had been taken to limit the exposure. If the task force faced an enemy, they were to destroy all evidence that could possibly lead back to human space. In this case, one of the warships would slag the camp, incinerating everything there.

Rev wasn’t quite sure how that was supposed to work. Some alien enemy would look at the Lamix’s serial number and trace it to Hydro? But orders were orders.

They grabbed their seats as the landing craft accelerated off the surface, making a direct line for the ship instead of the much more efficient Hohmann transfer. This wasn’t the time to save fuel.

Rev pulled up the XO. “Any updates, sir?”

“No, Sergeant Major. It looks like they’re in attack mode.”

“Can we take them if it comes to that?”

“We don’t know anything of their capabilities. The AIs are collating all the data we can glean and running simulations, but we’re shooting in the dark.”

And being as few as we are, we can’t take the chance.

“Come up to the CIC when you board. The skipper wants you here.”

“Roger that, sir. Uh, did you tell Colonel Bundy? You might want his thoughts on what’s happening. His brain’s still Bundy.”

“Crap. You’re right. I’ll send someone for him. But you get here, too.”

“Roger that.”

Rev took a moment to look down his row of Marines. He couldn’t see a gunny’s chevrons from his angle.

“Miko, where are you?” he asked over the P2P.

A PAL Marine halfway down the line raised an arm and turned slightly toward him.

“You doing OK?”

“I’m fine. You and Kel couldn’t get the Lamix?”

“It would have taken another five minutes.”

“Couldn’t be helped, I guess.”

“I’m supposed to head to CIC after we board. I’m gonna need you to get everyone situated.”

Which meant she wouldn’t have time to check on the girls. But they were being watched, and duty came first.

“Got it. What kind of posture?”

They were at general quarters, which for the majority of the Marines meant in their racks. But Rev really didn’t see a need for that. The main thing was to keep out of the way of the Galaxy Explorer’s crew.

“Berthing spaces are fine. SNCOs in the chief’s mess. Let everyone mingle within the spaces.”

If they were going to be reduced to their component atoms, let everyone do it with their comrades rather than lying in a rack, staring at the bottom of the one above them.

“Give me an update when you can. I’ll pass on whatever you let me,” Tomiko said.

Rev had been in space battles before. For an embarked Marine, the worst thing was not being able to affect the outcome. The second worst thing was not knowing what was going on. As much as he could, he planned on keeping his Marines informed at all times.

“Sure will.”

He leaned back in his harness as the landing craft’s compensators struggled to smooth out the acceleration. Normally, his famously queasy stomach would be rebelling, but for once, it was calm.

“Did you give me the antiemetics?” he asked Punch.

<I don’t do that without your permission. But you do seem unnaturally calm.>

“Maybe I’m just getting used to it.”

He settled in for the wait while his mind raced, trying to picture what was going on out there. He didn’t know where the alien ships had entered the system. They could have jumped close to the planet, which meant time was extremely limited. Or they could have entered outside the system like the task force’s ships had done. It had taken them a leisurely three days to approach the planet. Hopefully, they’d have that long before the alien fleet could reach them.

Except they don’t have to reach us to engage, Reverent. They can take us under fire from long distances.

Energy weapons could reach across the system in minutes rather than days. Hyper-velocity weapons could reach a target in hours. And if the alien ships had appeared closer than they had, then any engagement could be moments from happening.

That raised a disturbing question.

“What’s the shielding on this landing craft?” he asked Punch.

He didn’t have to tell his battle buddy why he was asking.

<Not enough to withstand naval weapons, using human Navy ships as a baseline.>

He turned to look over at Tomiko again, then decided not to bring it up with her. No use adding stress to the situation. But knowing her, she’d probably already realized it herself.

If the enemy did engage, the human ships should be able to withstand the initial barrages, but the landing craft would be cinderized. They had to reach the protection of the ship before that happened.

Glad I didn’t have Kel keep working on the Lamix.

Of course, that assumed parity with human weapons. For all he knew, the enemy could be fighting with space going paintball guns or all the way up to whatever the Sia had used to destroy the Naxli homeworld.

“Can you give me a few tunes?” he asked.

<What would you like to hear?>

“I don’t know. You pick.”

A moment later, Tia Malaga began to play, directly inputted into his auditory cortex. As usual, the process created a sense of total immersion, and Punch’s choice couldn’t have been better. Rev wasn’t calm, but he was a lot better and wasn’t imagining his sudden cessation of existence with every beat of his heart.

“Prepare for recovery,” interrupted the music, and Rev looked around in surprise. He’d lost track of the time, and they’d reached the ship.

“Good job with the music choice, Punch. I was lost in it.”

<I aim to please.>

Rev didn’t relax, though, until the landing craft touched down and the hangar doors closed. He gave a sigh of relief as he unbuckled his harness.

Tomiko was already taking charge, so he walked down the ramp and headed to the armory. The XO had told him to go straight to the CIC, but a Marine in a PAL, especially an IBHU Marine, occupied quite a bit of space, and the CIC was sure to be crowded.

Daryll looked up as he came in and made a blowing sound. “I’m glad you’re still kicking. We were worried about you all.”

“Do you know what’s the situation?”

“Pretty much next to nothing. I’m not high on the need-to-know list.”

“Keep close to your comms, and I’ll try to keep you informed.”

Daryll was not military, and he wasn’t part of Njuguna’s team. But he was still a human being, and if things were getting bad, he deserved to know just as much as anyone else.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

He took off his IBHU, then molted from his PAL and asked Daryll to get that to the other armory. He didn’t even bother to put on his social arm but headed off to the CIC in the center of the ship. A gunner’s mate was standing guard at the hatch, but the sailor opened it at Rev’s approach.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The CIC was a beehive of activity. He spotted Bundy sitting quietly at the conference table and slid into the seat beside him.

“Glad to see you made it back, Rev.”

Rev grunted and said, “Sorry you missed your chance to come on down.”

Bundy laughed. “And miss all of this excitement?”

“Anything new?”

“I don’t know what you know, but things don’t look good. The quick and dirty is that eight ships appeared outside the orbit of the ninth planet and almost immediately moved into what the AIs projected as an attack formation. Each of the ships is larger than everything except for the Galaxy Explorer.”

“I guess it was too much to hope for that these were flea-sized ships.”

“If they correspond to our navies, then they almost undoubtedly outgun us. It was a no-brainer for Bane. We’re hightailing it out of here. We don’t want to risk a fight.”

He pointed to the 3D battle projection. Rev and the rest had just gotten aboard, and already, the plan was clear.

The Galaxy Explorer and the Star Gala, as the least able to defend themselves, were in the center of the formation. The other five ships were arrayed between them and the aliens, forming a screen.

All seven ships were gaining speed, heading away from the enemy and in toward the center of the system. For a moment, that seemed wrong to Rev. They should be heading out of the system, off the orbital plane either to the system’s north or south, but then he looked at the track.

“We’re gonna use that gas giant to build speed.”

Bundy just nodded.

The problem was that the alien ships were closing the distance. Assuming they had energy weapons, they could open fire at any time now. It would be a race to see if they could close with and destroy the human ships before they could make the jump into bubble space.

“How does the timing work? Can we make it?”

“That’s the question now, isn’t it? And the answer is we don’t know. We’ve got no idea how effective their weapons are nor how well we can withstand them. But I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“How long until we can jump?”

“A couple of hours if all goes well.”

Which was quicker than he’d expected. The gas giant’s gravitational well would be a huge boost in getting them to jump speed.

“Can they follow us in bubble space?”

Bundy shrugged. “Who the hell knows? But the AIs keep running more simulations as more data is gathered, and this keeps giving us the best odds.”

“Sergeant Major, any issue on the surface?” Captain Bane asked as he came up. “Did everyone make it off?”

“All off, sir. We had to leave the Lamix and some other equipment.”

“No matter. We’ve got two more,” he said, using the same justification Rev had used with Kelly. “I appreciate you being here, Aristotle,” he told Bundy. “And I’d like to have at least one of the two of you in the CIC at all times.”

Rev wasn’t sure why he needed a Marine for a potential naval battle. Bundy had a sharp mind and could look at things from a different viewpoint than the typical Navy officer, but Rev was a grunt, not a strategic genius.

He agreed to stay, of course, though. If he could help, even by fetching fresh coffee for the sailors, he’d be happy to do it.

And he’d know what was going on as a bonus.

He quietly called Tomiko to give her an update on what he knew, then settled in for the duration, his eyes usually locked onto the battle projection. The calculated jump spot was displayed as a bright orange circle. The ship’s avatars seemed a long way from it, but slowly and surely, they crept closer, closing the distance.

Voices continually called out, and figures flashed on the projections’ displays, but Rev tuned most of them out, mesmerized by the three main items: the enemy, the task force, and the jump point. It was a slow-motion dance into which he was being drawn—until a yellow flash broke the spell.

“The Werewolf has taken a hit. Energy weapon!” a voice called out.

“Intel, I want the specs on that!” Captain Bane shouted. “Engineering, what’s the Loup-Garou’s status! Now, people. Now!”

Rev blinked his eyes as if he’d just woken from a dream. The flash had come without warning. But that was expected. The combat AIs could only do so much with their algorithms. With the paucity of data, they had to rely more on real-time gathering. So, the first indication that a weapon had been fired was when it arrived.

Hopefully, with the sensors that had been scattered upon their arrival, and as the AIs processed the data that was gathered, they’d start to have better projections of what was happening. They’d have warning before being hit.

No, belay that, Reverent. Hopefully, we’ll be in bubble space long before we have enough data to do that.

“The Werewolf’s Number Four shield is down fourteen percent. Number Three is down five-point-one.”

“Is that bad?” he asked Punch.

<It’s in line with what the Loup-Garou might suffer from human or Naxli shipboard energy weapons.>

“Intel, I want to know what we’re facing!” the captain yelled again.

The Intel officer started spouting numbers. Rev listened for a few moments, then tuned him out. None of what the officer was saying made much sense to him.

For a moment, he imagined what must be going on aboard the enemy ships. If they were anything close to humans in function, they’d be analyzing what happened to the Loup-Garou. And if they had the capability, they’d be adjusting their weapons to make them more effective.

The second blast hit the Wahoo. But the prey had teeth, too. The Strike Eagle returned fire, followed almost immediately by a terajoule barrage from the Loup-Garou.

“Let’s see how long it takes them to react,” Bundy said.

Rev was about to ask why, but it was obvious. If the enemy immediately took evasive action, then they were able to get real-time data. If it took them several minutes, then they were as limited as the humans were. And that meant the task force could maneuver without being immediately detected.

“Initiate ERP-4,” the captain ordered. “No overall course deviation. We’re still using the gas giant’s pull.”

“What about the gennies?” the navigator asked. “They’re not integrated.”

“Tell them to keep out of the way. Our AIs will try to avoid them. Big space, little ship.”

“Punch?”

<ERP is a defensive maneuver to lower the chance of a direct hit. ERP-4 has the least amount of divergence, so it won’t significantly delay our reaching jump speed. But the captain still wants to use the gravitational pull of the gas giant to increase acceleration, so we can’t fall out of the envelope. Our navigation AIs are compatible with the Uauii’s, which in turn is used on the Kanter ship.>

“And the gennies?”

<The Star Gala has only partial integration with the other ships in the task force. The liner’s AIs, which are heavily weighted to life support and comfort, cannot be integrated with the rest of the task force’s combat AI array, so there is a risk of a collision.>

“There’s a lot of space to maneuver in. What are the chances of a collision?”

<It has happened before. Which is why the ERP system was developed. But, as I noted, the Star Gala is not able to integrate into the system.>

“That’s what happens when you bring a passenger liner into a military task force,” Rev muttered.

The Genesians might be cruising in comfort, but they were a liability at the moment.

Not that the Galaxy Explorer was much better. At least she had shielding and an array of short-range missiles.

More beams crisscrossed the space between the two fleets. The human maneuvering was more a subtle shifting of positions rather than anything significant. But it was enough so that none of the incoming impacted. But the attacking ships were inexorably closing the distance. Fires would become more accurate.

And then the enemy started their own defensive maneuvering. The human weapons had reached them.

“Any sign of damage?” Captain Bane asked.

“Nothing detectable,” a lieutenant responded.

Farther down the line of consoles, a petty officer shouted, “Vampire, vampire, vampire! I’ve got launches!”

The ancient alert for incoming got everyone’s attention.

“On the battle projection,” the captain ordered.

Several sailors stepped closer to the projection, getting in Rev’s way. He stood to look over their heads. Six small flashing amber dots were detaching themselves from the enemy ships.

Rev put his hand on the shoulder of the chief standing in front of him. “What are they?”

The chief turned, a scowl on his face, but when he saw Rev, he said, “We don’t know. Torpedo, missile, fighter craft? But they’re heading toward us.”

Banes grabbed Nyad by the collar and pulled the man in for a private discussion. Rev strained to hear what they were saying, but the background noise drowned them out.

After about thirty seconds of back and forth, the skipper nodded, released his XO, and ordered, “I want the Loup-Garou and the Strike Eagle to take care of the bogeys. The Wahoo, Akaei, and the lemmings are to keep up the fire on the main ships. And see if the lemmings will spend one of their Krakatoas on them.”

“Punch?”

<The Kanter ships are known to carry a Uauii hybrid torpedo, code-named Krakatoa.>

“What’s a hybrid torpedo?”

<In this case, it’s a large, powerful torpedo controlled by a Class 1 AI. It’s relatively slow, but in a closing target profile, it can be extremely accurate.>

I really need to learn more about the Navy side of the house. Especially the lemming ship.

His wristcomp buzzed. It was Tomiko. He popped the earbud out of its slot and placed it in his ear, then raised the comp itself to his throat.

“I was about to call you,” he said, wincing at the lie. “No, sorry. I wasn’t. I forgot.”

“That’s what I figured and why I called. What’s going on?”

“Eight enemy ships. We’ve been under fire, and the Werewolf and Wahoo got hit with a beamer. No damage yet, but we’ve got fighters or maybe torps on the way. Oh, yeah, we’re returning fire,” he said, trying to fit everything in and watch the progress of the bogeys at the same time.

“Are we going to get out of this mess?”

“Don’t know yet.”

There was a moment of silence, then she asked, “Can I tell the others?”

Rev checked the CIC. Everyone was busy except for Bundy, who was sitting quietly as he soaked everything in. This was one of the times when it was easier just to take action and ask for permission later.

“Yeah. Let everyone know. Pass the word to the troops, too.”

“Keep me updated, Rev. Don’t space out again and forget me.”

“I won’t. Where are the girls?”

“In the chief’s mess with me.”

“Good. Well . . .”

“I’m cutting the connection, Rev. Just keep me informed.”

He retracted the earbud into its slot. For all the high tech in his brain and the jack at the base of his neck, you’d think they would have something better for wristcomp comms than an earbud that went back to Neanderthal days, but there it was.

“The lemming’s launched,” someone called out.

“A Krakatoa?” Captain Bane asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“On the battle projection.”

The Uauii weapon appeared as a lavender orb. Rev knew there must be some sort of rhyme or reason to the various colors, but he sure didn’t know the code. Knowing would help, though, because the projection field was filling up with avatars, and that was beginning to make things confusing.

The Krakatoa was still moving in the same direction as the rest of the ships—momentum couldn’t be so easily changed. It was slowing down, though. Rev got the feeling it was a lion setting up an ambush.

But it wasn’t the only lion seeking a kill. The enemy bogeys were closing as well.

Rev hated not being in control, not being able to affect the situation. At least he wasn’t being kept in the dark, though.

Thank the Mother for small favors.

He started chewing on his fingernails as he tried to absorb what was going on. An array of light-yellow avatars started to appear.

“What are those?” he asked Punch, locking his gaze on one.

<I don’t know.>

“You, the great Punch, don’t know? How the heck can that be?”

<I only know what I’ve downloaded, and the combat projection is customizable to the user. So, instead of criticizing my abilities, why don’t you ask one of the CIC staff?>

“Whoa, Punch. Don’t get your crystal panties in a twist. I was just surprised.”

Rev leaned back in his chair until he could tap one of the sailors on the shoulder. “What are the light-yellow icons?”

“Mines. We’re seeding the route. Standard SOP,” the petty officer said.

“Thanks.” He leaned forward again and told Bundy, “The yellow ones. Those are mines.”

“I figured that from the layout,” Bundy said.

Rev frowned. But it made sense. Put that pattern on the ground somewhere, and Rev would have immediately figured out it was a minefield.

So why didn’t I figure it out myself? Or more to the point, why didn’t Punch?

There’d been something off with his battle buddy for some time now. Rev couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there. Like asking him what wind felt like when they were on the buffalo planet.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about Punch, though. There was too much going on.

Pertinent data was continually loaded onto the flatscreens around the bulkheads, and in typical Navy SOP, the operators would call out each new development. Most meant little to Rev, but some were too evident to ignore—like the approaching amber icons and the outgoing Krakatoa.

The enemy incoming reached the outer band of mines, and the lead one disappeared in a flash. The CIC erupted in a cheer. They still didn’t know for sure what the icons represented, but there was one fewer right now.

The remaining ones spread out and started maneuvering. From where he was sitting at the table, it looked like some, at least, intersected the human mines, but they kept approaching. What looked like millimeters in the projection could actually be kiloklicks in real space.

I guess they didn’t realize what the mines were. But now they’re forewarned.

And then the incoming passed the Krakatoa, which ignored them. The Kanter missile had larger prey in its sights.

Another of the incoming was destroyed, but not by the mines. The Strike Eagle finally managed to score a hit. It was an extremely good sign that the hit was effective. As the distance shrank, there would be more and more of them, but that was a two-way street. The enemy wasn’t coming for a social call. Whatever the incoming fire was—torpedoes or fighters, most likely—they’d be more effective the closer they got as well.

The four remaining incoming bogeys suddenly seemed to go into hyper-mode, like falcons diving on pigeons.

Alarms started blaring as the Loup-Garou and Strike Eagle increased their rate of fire. A bogey targeting the Strike Eagle was destroyed by a close-in self-defense missile, but another bypassed the two ships to target the Wahoo, which shifted fires to engage. The bogey streaked unerringly to the Union ship, though, making it through the barrage. A sudden pattern of six projectiles burst from the enemy fighter, which reached out like an obscene flower blooming at unbelievable speed. The Wahoo must have fired every weapon at its disposal. Four of the projectiles were destroyed, but two either hit or detonated alongside the ship.

Rev made an inarticulate shout as the projection flared a moment before the compensators brought things back into focus.

Numbers were flashing, but Rev ignored them. He was staring at the ship’s icon, which was now pulsating red.

“The Wahoo’s forward shields are down,” a voice shouted.

“Are they alive?” Rev asked the sailor who’d told him what the mines were.

“The ship’s intact, Sergeant Major. But she’s in a shit sandwich.”

“Can they jump into bubble space?”

The petty officer pulled up some figures on his console, then said, “Not without repairs.”

Rev let the man get back to his job and leaned into Bundy. “What about Delta?”

Bundy shook his head. “Look at the readings. The ship’s been breached. It depends on where they were.”

There’d been 192 Delta Company Marines on the ship along with the hundred or so ship’s crew. Rev didn’t know how many of them were still alive, and more pertinently, how they were going to rescue the survivors.

“We’re being targeted,” someone else shouted.

Rev tore his eyes away from the Wahoo. The combat projection highlighted two streaks that seemed to be on an intercept course with the Galaxy Explorer.

“Give me a twenty percent boost to S-4 and 5,” Captain Bane ordered in a calm but firm voice. “Lock in Battery D.”

The Loup-Garou destroyed another of the bogeys, but every soul in the CIC was focused on the two that were locked onto them.

The captain didn’t order evasive maneuvers, which made Rev nervous. Punch explained the reasoning. Any maneuvers would delay when they could jump. Captain Bane was taking a calculated risk that speeding ahead gave them the best chance of reaching bubble space.

The distance was closing, though. Battery D started firing its close-in defense missiles, but each one either missed or detonated early.

“Splash one enemy ship!” a voice called out.

“Let me see it,” the captain ordered.

The projection rippled, jumping back two minutes.

Rev had been so focused on the incoming that he’d forgotten about the Krakatoa. Lying in wait, it had suddenly charged the lead enemy ship, accelerating quicker than any weapon the human ships had available could.

Those in the lead ship realized that it was a target, and it unleashed a barrage of energy beams and attempted to dodge, but the Krakatoa was locked on. Forty-seven seconds after it initiated its run, the Krakatoa reached the ship and detonated. The projection simulated a bright, lavender flash, and the enemy icon disappeared.

Cheers once again rang out, but more muted than before. The incoming weapons were dominating their attention, and their missile defenses were ineffective so far. Time was running out.

Rev looked at Captain Bane, willing him to start to take evasive action, when someone shouted, “Go, Akaei!”

“What’s happening?” Rev asked Bundy.

“The Akaei, it’s taking action, I think.”

It took a moment for Rev to make sense of the projection. The Akaei was still fleeing along with the other ships, but it was also crabbing over. Follow the process, and it was clear what she was doing. The ship was slipping in between the incoming weapon and the Galaxy Explorer.

Meanwhile, it was creating a barrage of fire aimed at the weapon. It looked to Rev that the Akaei might have even scored two hits, but the enemy bogey kept coming . . . except it seemed to be changing course.

That was confirmed a moment later when one of the operators said, “The incoming bogey’s targeted the Akaei.”

The Mezami crew knew that, too. And a few minutes later, the ship started to increase its evasive maneuvers. That was a double-edged sword, though. While it might prevent a hit, the maneuvers were slowing its straight-line progress. The Galaxy Explorer, Star Gala, Loup-Garou, and Strike Eagle were pulling away from her.

The lead bogey disappeared, taken out by the Akaei’s meson cannon, but the second was still on target and closing in.

“Come on,” Rev muttered. “Splash that thing before it can fire its missiles.”

Rev didn’t know if it had been missiles that hit the Wahoo, but that made the most sense. The Akaei had to take out the second bogey before it launched its weapons—and the bogey was rapidly approaching the range where the first bogey had fired on the Wahoo.

“What’s the Strike Eagle doing?” Captain Bane asked.

With the drama on the Akaei, Rev hadn’t been paying attention to the MDS ship. But it was no longer between the Galaxy Explorer and Star Gala and the enemy ships.

“She’s deviated from her course,” one of the sailors said.

“Run some projections. I want to know what she’s doing,” Bane said.

The Strike Eagle’s projected course shifted. Unless something changed, the ship was going to use the gravitational pull to accelerate along the opposite side of the planet.

“She’s running, the bastards, and taking our biggest cannon with them,” the chief nearest Rev muttered.

“How can you tell?” Rev asked.

“Bastards are on a bubble space run. Look at their course. They’re going to use the gas giant to accelerate and make the jump, leaving us as a sitting duck.”

Rev took a moment to study the projection, and even as a grunt, he understood what the chief was saying. In addition to using the big planet to accelerate, they’d have a cleaner lane to make their escape, especially if the enemy let them go. And at the moment, their attention was locked onto the rest of the task force.

“Get me their CO,” Captain Bane ordered.

“There’s no response,” the comms officer replied a few moments later.

“Keep trying. I want that bastard to tell me to my face that they’re running!” Bane snapped.

Rev caught Bundy’s eye. “I never thought they’d chicken out,” Rev said.

Bundy shook his head. “Self-preservation is a powerful motivator.”

“So, what does that do to us? Can we still make it?”

“I’m a tanker, not a sailor, Rev. All I can do is look at the projections. And if those are right, it’s going to be tight. That’s assuming the bad guys fire their weapons at the same range that they did for the Wahoo. If they’ve got something longer range, then we’d better hope our shielding is strong.”

Two blips seemed to calve off the Loup-Garou. The battle projection identified them as Vipères, the Hégémonie fighter craft. One started toward the Akaei, while the other was sliding to take up position where the Strike Eagle had been.

It was asking a lot for a two-seater fighter to substitute for a cruiser, especially as the task force was running for bubble space. Fighters like the Vipère or the Union Shrike had bubble space capability, but it was no sure thing to get to where they wanted to be. Not even in the best of conditions.

The first fighter let loose a missile. The range was long, and except for the Krakatoa, the Exile Force’s missiles hadn’t been very effective. But maybe the fighter crew was just trying to distract the bogey.

It was too late, though. The bogey let loose its six hypervelocity missiles. The Akaei made a hard downward dive while releasing decoys.

“She’s trying to jump,” one of the sailors said.

“She can’t. She’s not at speed,” the chief behind Rev said, his voice breaking. “She’ll never make it.”

Rev turned to him. “Why isn’t she firing her cannons?”

The chief shook his head. “It didn’t work for the Wahoo. Maybe the skipper thinks the decoys will work, and firing would reveal their true position. I don’t know.”

Most of the CIC went silent as the Akaei’s gambit played out. Rev wanted to scream as the tension reached the breaking point.

“They’re not falling for it,” the chief said as the six enemy missiles adjusted course, bypassing the decoys.

The Akaei knew it, too. The ship opened up with its cannon, but it was too late. All six missiles hit home, and the Akaei was gone.

Rev wasn’t the only one to shout in anger. The crew of the Akaei had ripped the attention of the enemy bogeys away from the Galaxy Explorer, and it had cost them their lives.

“Back to your posts,” Captain Bane said. “Let’s not let their sacrifice be in vain.

Sailors turned back to their consoles. Rev started to lean into Bundy to ask a question, but he stopped short at his friend’s appearance. He looked like death warmed over—haggard and breathing heavily.

“Are you OK?” he asked, thrown off stride.

Bundy shook his head. He started to answer, coughed, and then said, “Not really.”

“Why don’t you go back to your stateroom and lie down?”

“If we’re going to get splashed, I want to know it’s happening,” he said in a ghostly voice.

“You’re not gonna know if you pass out here,” Rev said but left it at that.

“Starting gravity well pass,” the navigator shouted a moment after the projection highlighted that change.

Rev thought he could feel the Galaxy Explorer start to accelerate quicker—which was all in his head, of course. The acceleration wasn’t suddenly multiples greater, and the ship’s compensators easily kept the ship’s interior steady. But from a mental perspective, it was a lift. And over the next thirty minutes, the distance between the ships and the enemy started to increase again, which Rev noted to Punch.

<And as soon as the enemy enters the gravitational pull, they’ll start to accelerate, too.>

“Still, I’d rather us pull ahead now.”

He glanced up to see where the Strike Eagle was. It was looping around the far side of the gas giant. With the bogeys chasing the Galaxy Explorer, Star Gala, and Loup-Garou, the MDS ship would have a free shot, reaching jump speed before the enemy could close in and hit it.

Bastards.

The Loup-Garou had cut back on their cannon fire, most likely waiting for the capital ships—they’d come to the conclusion that the farthest bogeys were capital ships, and the nearest ones were fighters that used missiles to take down the Wahoo and Akaei—to close in before letting loose.

“How about spending a shot at the Mad Dogs?” he muttered.

Forget them, Reverent. They’re out of the picture, he admonished himself.

The enemy ships understood about using gravity wells to gain speed. Rev didn’t need to be told that as several of the ships adjusted course and spread out. They wouldn’t be gaining the same acceleration, but they were cutting corners. Rev didn’t think they could foresee where the human ships would break free from the gravity well. They’d have to know human specs for bubble space. But they were hedging their bets, and from the looks of it, it was a smart move.

“Is the captain gonna—” Rev started to ask Bundy.

But his friend was asleep. Rev thought about taking him back to his stateroom, but why? He’d only wake up and want to stay. He might as well let Bundy catch a few z’s.

The battle had turned into a race with the Galaxy Explorer and Star Gala trying to reach the bubble space envelope and the Loup-Garou providing running cover. The battle AI kept updating the projections, and things weren’t looking good. The enemy had rolled the dice by splitting its forces. Two of those were going to cut off the three human ships.

Captain Bane was in continual discussions with his senior staff, but Rev didn’t see them taking any action to confront the enemy. From what he could hear, they seemed to feel that the Loup-Garou was in big trouble and that one of them—the Galaxy Explorer or the Star Gala—would be lost as well.

They were betting that the Star Gala, with already damaged shielding, would be the one to lose out, using the old adage that when a lion chases you, you only have to be quicker than your buddy.

Rev didn’t believe in just throwing fate to the winds. And who was to say that the enemy wouldn’t target the ship with the intact shielding? If they had to, they should take the fight to the enemy. Maybe the capital ships would be vulnerable as the distance between them shrunk. And the Loup-Garou was no pushover. She might be outnumbered, but she had a particularly nasty bite of her own. Assuming she was going down was a leap Rev wasn’t going to make.

But he didn’t have a say in the matter. He was just an observer—an interested observer, but an observer all the same.

With each passing second, things were looking worse. The enemy was closing in, and at least two ships would be within range to release their missiles before the Galaxy Explorer would reach her jump point.

Rev gave serious consideration to going to Tomiko and the girls and riding it out with them, but even if he had no impact on the battle, he wanted to know what was going on.

That reminded him, though, and he called up Tomiko and gave her an update. One of the girls was crying in the background, and that almost changed his mind. But he steeled himself and remained in place.

His focus was on the three remaining ships and the seven in pursuit. The enemy hadn’t launched any more fighters. It looked like this was going to end up as the modern version of sailing fleets of the wet-water navies of Old Earth. The Strike Eagle was behind the gas giant, so her position was a projection. For all anyone knew, she’d reached the envelope and had jumped.

It was a slow-motion ballet that lulled Rev into forgetting the consequences for minutes at a time. But every projection update jerked him back to reality. And then the endgame was approaching.

The projection showed the Galaxy Explorer hitting the envelope in forty-three minutes. It also showed two of the enemy ships reaching their launch range in eighteen minutes.

The Loup-Garou was already maneuvering to maximize her firepower, and she started increasing her output. The fighter that had gone to support the Akaei had come around and was closing in with the nearest enemy, her terajoule-cannon spitting death.

And just like that, the fighter was gone. The projection didn’t list what had taken it out. It had been too much to hope that the mouse could take out the elephant.

“Respect to the fallen,” Rev said.

One of the enemy ships began to pull away, and for a moment, Rev got his hopes up. But the Loup-Garou started taking hits, and her shielding started to degrade.

Then the Galaxy Explorer’s alarms began to go off. She was taking fire.

The ship’s AI immediately tried to match frequencies to minimize the effects while the hull officer, who had no direct input, kept announcing the shield strength.

“Can we make it?” he asked Punch.

<Unless something changes the situation, then no. Even without the missiles that destroyed the Wahoo and Akaei, our shielding will collapse nine minutes short of jumping.>

“Weapons! I want half of Delta Battery to target Echo and Foxtrot. Do it now,” Captain Bane ordered.

I guess he’s not gonna completely sit back and take it, Rev thought with approval.

It would be better to go out fighting than running.

The missiles were quickly picked up, and within minutes, they’d all been intercepted.

“Ready the remaining missiles, but wait for my command,” Bane ordered.

Getting in closer should make the ship’s missiles more effective, but Rev didn’t think the enemy was going to sit back and wait. Even if they didn’t collapse the human shielding, they’d launch their own missiles.

Suddenly, a ship popped up on the projection, on the other side of the Galaxy Explorer, and Rev thought they’d just run into a trap, with one of the enemy emerging from bubble space in an ambush.

It wasn’t until someone shouted out, “It’s the Mad Dogs,” that he realized who it was. And it took him even longer to figure out what was happening.

Instead of running, the Strike Eagle had used the gas giant to sling around and was coming at them, her huge fifteen-petajoule cannon blazing. But they weren’t the target. The beam shot past the three human ships and hit the closest enemy ship, which immediately broke off.

“Get some!” someone shouted.

The Strike Eagle was blazing, well beyond jump speed. She passed the Galaxy Explorer as she closed with the enemy.

Her sudden appearance made her a target. The enemy ships broke their formation, scattering like a covey of quail, but their weapons were trained on the MDS ship.

Enemy shields were shedding massive amounts of energy, which the projection depicted as lightning shooting into space.

One enemy ship went dark under the onslaught, and the Strike Eagle let loose with what must be their entire missile supply.

But the enemy ships had missiles, too. Three of them fired—eighteen missiles in all. The Strike Eagle’s main cannon was optimized for anti-ship. Rev didn’t think the MDS crew even tried to shift to close-in defense with it. As the enemy missiles closed, the MDS ship fired its Close-in Self Defense array, but it was almost as if they were presenting their middle finger to the attackers.

Rev stood up, his heart in his throat as the Strike Eagle met its end. He couldn’t tell how many of the missiles hit the ship, but it was enough.

The CIC was silent until the captain repeated what he’d said when the Akaei was lost.

“The Mad Dogs have given us a chance. Let’s not blow it.”

And they really had. Their mad charge had blown apart the enemy formations as they tried to evade the big gun. They were already recovering, but it would take time to get back on track.

The Galaxy Explorer had never deviated from her course. The projection gave her eight minutes and fourteen seconds to jump. And as the AI recalculated the attackers’ courses, things were looking good.

They might have a chance.

Every eye not actually involved with the jump was locked onto the timer as it counted down the seconds. The ship was hit several more times with energy beams, but the shields were still strong enough.

At fifty-one seconds, one of the attacking ships loosed its salvo of six missiles. There were a few shouts of alarm as people tried to make quick calculations.

“Prepare to jump,” came over the 1MC.

Rev held his breath as the missiles closed to within two kiloklicks—which was nothing even within a single star system—before the ship jumped and reached the refuge of bubble space.

5

“Full scan,” the captain shouted as they dropped back into real space. “I want to know the millisecond anything else appears.”

The CIC, which was hardly relaxing before, erupted into a beehive of activity. Every nerve was on edge, ready for anything.

And in this case, anything was nothing. The space around them was an empty void.

The Rally Point had been selected precisely because it was empty, light years away from any system. They could hopefully hide there and regroup. At the moment, though, the Galaxy Explorer was the only vessel in the area. No enemy had followed them through bubble space, but as of yet, none of the other ships had, either.

Rev was still holding out hope for the Loup-Garou and Star Gala. And despite what he’d witnessed, for the Wahoo, Akaei, and the Strike Eagle. If not for the ships themselves, then for the crews and embarked ground troops.

The Loup-Garou might show up. It had still been fighting when the Galaxy Explorer jumped. The situation hadn’t looked good, but with the flagship safely in bubble space, the Hégémonie ship could have broken off and made a run for it. The Star Gala had been right behind the Galaxy Explorer, but it had taken enough hits to seriously degrade her shields.

The Wahoo and Akaei’s destruction had been documented by the Galaxy Explorer’s instruments. However, the ship’s life pods, at least, would have been programmed to reach the RP. Making a bubble space jump to a specific destination was an iffy proposition for a life pod. The chances of actually arriving were not great. But it was possible.

The chances of any survivors from the Strike Eagle were worse. From all reports, the MDS did not put a high priority on crew rescue, and they’d gone in with proverbial guns blazing.

But it wasn’t any of the Wahoo’s life pods that dropped out into real space eight minutes later. Alarms blared, and hearts jumped into throats as a large vessel appeared less than a kiloklick away, but it was the Star Gala. Despite their lack of speed and military shielding, the Genesians had survived the battle. The Strike Eagle’s sacrifice had probably made the difference.

“What’s her condition?” the captain asked.

“Shielding down to . . . wow. Two percent,” an astounded-sounding console operator said.

Half of the heads in the CIC swiveled to her.

Two percent? One more puff of solar wind would have torn her apart. The Mother was sure watching over them.

“She’s losing atmosphere, and it looks like her engines are leaking ions,” someone else said.

A diagram of the ship appeared on the projection. A purple bloom was expanding from the aft engineering spaces. Numbers started popping up as more data was received. There were warnings alongside some of the figures. The best Rev could tell, the Star Gala might be a little beat up, but it was still operational.

“Think anyone else made it into bubble space?” Rev asked Bundy.

His friend was gaunt with exhaustion, but he wasn’t leaving the CIC. Rev knew he was going to stick it out until everything was sorted.

“The Wahoo’s gone. So’s the Akaei. We know that.”

It wasn’t lost on Rev that Bundy didn’t bother to mention the Strike Eagle. Her loss was so complete that there was zero chance of survivors.

“What about life pods?”

“Doubtful. The Wahoo’s break up wasn’t the same as the Mad Dogs’. Still, the end was quick.” He must have seen Rev’s face fall because he added, “But if some were already in the pods, then it’s possible they were blown free.

“As for the other two, though, I’m hopeful. The Werewolf and Lemmings were damaged. If that can make it through, though,” he said, tilting his head at the diagram of the Star Gala, “then a ship-of-war should be able to.”

Rev went back to biting his fingernails, which were already down to the quick. The time stretched on, each second seemingly a minute. There was a conversation behind him on whether they should recommend to Captain Bane that they send a drone back to see what had happened, but in the end, they kept quiet.

Dr. Njuguna, who’d been sitting at the other end of the table, walked over to speak with Bane for a few minutes before she left the CIC.

“I guess she doesn’t think this is important,” Rev told Bundy, then paused at his friend’s appearance.

“Hey, if you want to go back to your stateroom, I’ve got this,” Rev said.

“I’m fine. I might as well sit here where I can see what’s happening instead of in my stateroom and wondering.”

“How about a coffee, then.”

“That’s something I’ll happily take.”

The ship might have just run for her life, but some things had priority. The coffee was still plentiful and hot. Rev filled two cups, carried one to give to Bundy, then went back to retrieve the other and returned to his seat. He cupped his organic hand around the other, not drinking but feeling the heat radiate through his fingers. It seemed easier to get lost in the steam that rose than to contemplate the loss of life they’d just experienced.

It was a full hour and twelve minutes after the Galaxy Explorer reached the RP that another ship dropped into real space. Once again, adrenaline surged before it was identified. It was the Kanter ship, only . . .

“It’s Dead in Space. DIS,” one of the sailors said.

“Impossible,” Captain Bane said. “Check your readings again.”

Rev looked over at Bundy, eyebrows raised in a question. His friend shrugged.

“I’m confirming that. Her engines are cold.”

“Is that possible?” Rev asked Punch.

<Theoretically, yes. You don’t need impulse engines to maneuver within bubble space, but the practical aspects of entering, navigating, and dropping out of bubble space without them would be extremely problematic.>

A diagram of the Kanter ship replaced that of the Star Gala. The damage to the ship was extensive, and hull integrity was minimal. But there were pockets of intact spaces and active life readings.

“They got their ass kicked,” Rev said in awe.

During the battle, the ship had absorbed hit after hit, seemingly brushing them all off. It was evident now that things had been much worse than they’d seemed at the time.

“I want their stat—” the captain said before he was interrupted.

“Skipper, the lemmings are requesting a tug,”

Rev immediately saw the problem. The ship might be DIS, but it also had momentum. Without engines, it couldn’t stop.

The Galaxy Explorer might not be a fighting ship, but it had its own capabilities. And it had tugs.

The captain didn’t think twice.

“Boats, send out two T-30s. I want that ship stopped and ten klicks off our port side in two hours. Do it.”

“Roger,” the ship’s first lieutenant said. “I’m on it.”

In typical Navy fashion—in other words, without logic to a Marine—a ship’s first lieutenant, who was in charge of the deck, equipment, and hangars, wasn’t always a lieutenant. On a ship-of-the-line, they might be, or even a lieutenant (jg). But on a support ship like the Galaxy Explorer, they could be a lieutenant commander, or even a commander, and were often the third most senior person on the ship.

“What’s their situation?” the captain asked. “I don’t see many spaces on that ship that can support life.”

“Integrity on the remaining spaces is sound. Only two are leaking their atmosphere.”

“Comms, see if they need help with those two spaces. We can bring them here if they want.”

“How did they get here without working engines?” Rev asked Bundy. “Punch says that’s almost impossible.”

<I said it would be extremely problematic,> Punch corrected him, which Rev ignored.

“Our little furry friends are a constant surprise,” Bundy said. “That, plus their ship is full of Clicker tech.”

Before the tugs were on their way, the Loup-Garou dropped out of bubble space. Rev expected to see a ravaged ship. It had been the first one hit, after all, but as far as he could tell from the projection, she was in good shape and combat-ready.

“Get me Capitaine de vaisseau Sekongo. Private line,” Captain Bane ordered.

The CIC went quiet. Whatever had to be passed was said in muted tones. No one could hear what Captain Bane was saying, but they were watching him say it.

Rev took the opportunity to give Tomiko an update, but his eyes were locked on the captain like everyone else’s. The Loup-Garou would have been the last ship to leave the system, so the crew would have the most up-to-date intel on what had happened.

But whatever the Loup-Garou’s captain told Bane, he wasn’t sharing. He started giving orders for a full fleet survey and consolidation. The Galaxy Explorer had come through the battle almost unscathed. But almost wasn’t completely. Captain Bane wanted the ship gone over with a fine-toothed comb and any necessary repairs made.

He requested the same with the other three ships. Until he knew where everyone stood, he couldn’t give Dr. Njuguna her options.

Due to what had just happened, Rev wasn’t sure that rested in the hands of Njuguna anymore. Titan, New Mars, or Yamoussoukro might have something to say about it now.

Rev finally convinced Bundy to take it in. All of the surviving ships were accounted for. He wasn’t about to leave, though. Against common sense, he was hoping that a life pod had survived the destruction of the Wahoo.

The two tugbots reached the Kanter ship, locked it in, and started bringing it around. The tugs were extremely powerful, but turning a dead ship around wasn’t a quick or easy task. Rev asked one of the chiefs and was told that the effort would probably take three days at a minimum, which was far from the captain’s two-hour deadline.

Rev didn’t know if whoever attacked them could trace them through bubble space, and he’d feel a lot better if they could take another jump. Three days seemed like a long time to spend sitting in one spot, even one so isolated at this.

Tomiko called him a couple of times, asking if he was going to first meet her in the mess for chow, then to see the girls, but he was having a hard time pulling himself away.

He kept his seat as the CIC shift change began. The new watch was coming on.

That’s it, Reverent. You can’t do anything more here. Go see your girls.

He pulled himself out of his chair, stood, and stretched, his back cracking in protest. The alarm blared.

“Incoming vessel,” someone shouted.

Everyone froze for a second before the incoming and off-going watch fought to take their stations.

It wasn’t the enemy tracking them through bubble space. It wasn’t the life pods.

“Union Navy Shrike, hull number GIK-87482,” someone announced as the diagram appeared on the projection.

Rev had forgotten all about the Wahoo’s lone fighter. He’d known it had launched, but it had been reported downed.

Evidently, the reports had been wrong.

There was a cheer among the two watches, and people started clapping. It reminded Rev of holos he’d seen, where someone was pulled out of the rubble a week after the earthquake.

“OK, OK. We’re happy to see the Shrike, but let’s keep going with the turnover,” the incoming officer of the watch ordered.

It was a happy group of sailors who got back to it. With all the losses, it was good to focus on something positive.

Rev wanted to keep holding on to that little ray of sunshine. He left the CIC and headed to Bravo Hangar. Word was already out, and a small crowd had gathered by the time he got there.

Rev stood quietly with the others as yellowshirts were moving one of the shuttles to the side to make room for the Shrike. Hangar B, the light hangar, was crowded with the ship’s shuttles and landing craft—which together made one more craft than a ship of the class would normally carry. But by hook or crook, the crew was going to make room for the fighter.

It took a bit of creative puzzle fitting, but they managed to clear just enough space for the fighter to land.

Rev felt a rising sense of anticipation, which jumped up several notches as the hangar doors opened, revealing a huge expanse of the black. Two minutes later, the hangar’s tractor beams engaged—the landing was too tight to leave it to the pilot to come in under their own power.

As the fighter slowly drifted into sight, the crowd cheered—including Rev. It was whole, if a little worse for wear. One side of the craft was scorched from a near miss, but it looked like it could take off on another mission.

The STC AI maneuvered the fighter aboard, twisting the craft one way, then the other, and clearing one of the shuttles by what looked to be centimeters before it gracefully put the fighter on the deck.

The last survivor of the battle had returned.

The canopy slid back, and the pilot waved at the gathered sailors as they surged forward despite the protest of the chief.

Rev just watched for a few moments, not joining the rush. Let the sailors have their moment.

He turned and reentered the ship proper to go see his three girls.

* * *

Three days turned to nine as the Genesians, Hégémonie, and Kanters tried to repair their ships. Galaxy Explorer personnel, both Navy and civilian, went over to the other ships to assist, but progress was slow.

The progress on the Loup-Garou was good. The same couldn’t be said for the Star Gala and the Kanter ship. Military ships like the Loup-Garou were designed under the expectation that they’d be damaged. Their self-healing systems could do amazing things given time and power. Passenger liners did not need those same capabilities. They were repaired in dry dock. So, while the Star Gala suffered relatively minor damage, what little there was was far more difficult to repair. The machine and print shops on the Galaxy Explorer were spending hundreds of man-hours and valuable resources creating replacement parts to get the cruise liner back into a semblance of shape.

Rev did not like the delay, but as Kelly said, if the enemy from EFP-1 hadn’t tracked them to the RP yet, then they probably weren’t going to.

During the second day after dropping out of bubble space, before the Kanter ship was towed into position, most of the surviving crew was transferred to the Galaxy Explorer. “Most” was a sadly small number. No one knew how many Kanters had made the voyage, but estimates had been in the high thousands to about fifteen thousand. Only three hundred and fourteen transferred to the human ship. There were others still aboard working on the repairs, but that was a sobering reflection of how many had been killed in the battle.

For the Marines, it was a lot of waiting. Very few of them had the skills to help much, but where all that was needed was a strong back, they put in the hours.

That left far too much time for rumor and arguing. And the SNCOs were not immune to that.

“I don’t know why everyone’s worried about the Mad Dogs,” Liam Dan said.

“Hey,” Over-sergeant Nunt said. “I’m right here.”

With the loss of the Strike Eagle, Over-sergeant Piter Nunt was the senior MDS soldier left in the task force. He’d taken the loss of his brethren hard, as was to be expected.

“No slight intended, Badger. I mean, your guys in the Strike Eagle, we owe them our lives, so I love you all. And like I said, I’m not worried about you. I’m not worried about any humans. It’s the Clickers that are going to try and step in. They don’t like us upstarts taking a prime position.”

“So, what are they going to do about it? We’ve seen how their soldiers are weak-ass pieces of crap,” Strap said.

“I told you, Chai. With all the financial and tech aid they give all the spectator races, they’ve got a lot of support. And what if they get the Ents on their side? Or the Scorps? Do you think they’re pushovers, too?” Tsao asked.

Strap turned to his partner, put his face up against her belly, and said, “Your mommy’s talking crap again, baby!”

She gave his head an exasperated shove aside.

“Clickers or not, do you really think it’s going to be back to love and kisses with everyone, Dan?” she asked the comms chief. “Hell, between the tin-asses and the noxes, look how many times we still fought among each other.”

She turned to Rev, who was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on another while he listened to tunes Punch was feeding him.

“Forget the Mad Dog War,” she said, patting Nunt on the shoulder to assure him that there were no hard feelings. “You fought the Fries, right, Sergeant Major? And look how close we are with them.”

“We didn’t really fight,” Rev said.

“OK, but they were, how do you say it, strategic adversaries, right?”

Rev shrugged. He’d given up trying to figure out what was happening. Or, to be more specific, he’d given up arguing about it. Punch was scouring what he could and comparing what he gleaned to human history, but they were in uncharted waters. And with limited connectivity with the rest of humanity, he wasn’t getting much input. Certainly not enough to be able to figure out what was true and what was BS from what he did get.

His gut told him that it wasn’t an either-or situation. Both Kelly and Dan could be right. Combine the typical MDS aggression with Uauii political gamesmanship, and war could break out on multiple fronts. And just as easily, cooler heads might prevail.

Rev wasn’t counting on the latter possibility, but he could hope.

“Right now, we’re still exiles, and we still have our mission,” he said. “That’s our future.”

“We’re getting a little close to the bone,” Kelly said. “Is the Navy going to send another ship to replace the Wahoo? What about the Mad Dogs, Badger? Are you guys going to cough up another ship when tensions are so high?”

She crossed her arms and said, “I don’t think so.”

Rev thought she might be right in that. He hoped she was wrong, but if he were a betting man, he’d place his money on no replacement, at least from the Union. Maybe the Kanters would send another ship. Then again, they might just send a ship to pick up their survivors and cut ties.

<You told me to give you an hour.>

“Yeah, thanks, Punch.”

He dropped his feet from the other chair and stood. “I’ve got to go relieve Miko,” he said.

“Send her down,” Kelly told him. “I need someone on my side.”

“I’ll let her know.”

Their stateroom was about thirty steps from the chief’s mess, but he knew they were in the playroom. He made his way to the converted storage space, and peals of adult laughter greeted him as he approached.

Rev frowned, stepped through the open hatch, and froze in his tracks for a split second. One of his daughters was dragging a dead Kanter by the scruff of the neck across the playroom floor.

His fatherly instinct kicked in, and he lunged forward before the rest of the room registered. Tomiko was sitting on a hobby horse someone had made, laughing at her daughter. Kat, Tiwari, and Teo were in high spirits—as were three more Kanters. His other daughter was on her back asleep, with yet a fourth Kanter substituting as a pillow.

They all looked up as he ran in, then burst out into another round of laughter.

“What the . . . ?”

The dead Kanter opened its eyes as it was being dragged across the floor and said in accentless Standard, “Greetings, Strong Bough.”

6

“It’s official. The Wahoo’s not being replaced,” Captain Bane told his military leaders.

Rev had half expected that, but he’d been holding out hope. The situation in human space was rapidly deteriorating, and every report that reached them brought to light yet another flashpoint.

It wasn’t just with the Uauii and other aliens who seemed to resent humanity’s sudden rise to prominence. It was also within humankind as factions and governments jockeyed for position in a post-Naxli galaxy.

Mona Hold wasn’t the only MDS land grab. Claims were being made to the court on Titan. These were mostly peaceful for the moment, but those who got the short end of the stick in the courts often refused to accept the decisions. That’s when violence broke out.

Pax Naxliana was already a thing of the past.

It wasn’t just the MDS, Rev had to admit. The Union was turning into the Perseus Fortress, a Union-first-and-damn-the-rest attitude. They hadn’t taken any overt military steps, but they were flexing their muscles, and as the strongest single power in human space, everyone was watching to see which way they were going to jump.

What complicated things was the rise of the more spiritually based groups, like the resurgent Children of Angels, who’d pivoted their message to match what they knew of the alien races, the Sia in particular. These movements were cross-border. They did not acknowledge national boundaries. That made the established governments nervous. Very nervous. And nervous governments historically cracked down, causing unrest.

Rev had seen it coming, but the speed at which it had arrived shocked him. Maybe, being an exile, he hadn’t been monitoring the situation that closely, figuring it wouldn’t affect the Exile Fleet.

How wrong he’d been. With the Wahoo lost, the Union was not rushing to send out another capital ship. There might possibly be a threat out in the far reaches of the galaxy, but there were absolutely known threats, both human and alien, right at home.

If the Wahoo hadn’t been destroyed, then maybe the Navy would still have sent out some sort of ship as a replacement. But the loss of the Wahoo hadn’t gone over well with the public.

The Exile Fleet was down to four ships. The Galaxy Explorer, an intact and still-functioning Star Gala with almost no shielding left, a damaged and DIS Kanter ship, and the Loup Garou.

Rev stole a look across the conference table to Bundy. His friend had visibly deteriorated since the battle. Without his ride home, he’d been given what was essentially a death sentence. No matter how skilled Dr. Rima might be, Rev didn’t think he could hang on until the Loup Garou detached in eleven more months. Bundy’s only chance was to get to a Class A facility. Hopefully, one that had a rot clinic.

“Is that temporary?” Lieutenant Beaton, one of the engineers, asked. “Can we expect something later?”

“As it stands right now, I’d say no.”

“That means that the Werewolf’s our only combat-capable ship,” the lieutenant said. “What happens the next time we’re in a fight?”

“We’ve got our own capabilities, Lena,” the captain said.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t call our SDS-50 batteries offensive capabilities,” she said with a barely contained snarl. “And what happens when the Hegs recall the Werewolf? Where will we be then?”

The captain’s head snapped around to drill his eyes into her. “Who told you that?” he snapped.

Rev locked into the captain. He didn’t like the man’s laser-like tone to the question.

Is there something to that?

“Punch, is there any chatter about the Werewolf going back early?”

<Nothing in the normal chatter. Do you want me to set up a search?>

“Yes, please.”

Lieutenant Beaton blanched under the barrage. “No one, sir. It’s just with everything else happening to us, that seems like it would be the next thing the gods of war throw at us.”

Captain Bane stared at her for a full ten seconds before he broke the contact and looked around the table again. “We don’t know what else is coming down the pike. But we’re professionals. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it then.”

“Remind me to track down our favorite Omega agent. If anyone knows about the Werewolf, it’ll be him.”

<Agent Wolf knows werewolves?>

“Is that a joke you just told, Punch? It’s been a minute since you’ve told me one.”

<It seemed to me to be too good of an opportunity to pass up.>

“I approve.”

* * *

“Buy you a cup of coffee?”

Rev looked up to see Command Master Chief Umman standing over him.

“Uh, sure,’ Rev said.

He turned to Top Klipsinger and said, “If you can take care of that, Tye, I’d appreciate it.”

With Bundy essentially out of the picture, Master Sergeant Klipsinger was the second highest-ranking Marine in the task force. The top didn’t participate in ground operations, so Tomiko was Rev’s second in command for that. But he was a rank senior to her, and frankly, he’d forgotten more about staff operations than Rev and Tomiko knew combined.

“Easy-peasy, Sergeant Major. I’ll have it to you by evening chow.”

Rev stood and followed Umman to the coffee machine first, and suitably recharged, to a corner table around which the surrounding tables had been conveniently cleared of others.

“Whadaya got, Command Master Chief?”

“It’s long past time for us to be on more personal terms,” Umman said, holding his hand across the small table. “Hank.”

“Rev,” he said, taking the hand.

After the initial pissing contest at the start of the mission, Rev and Umman had developed a measured but mostly frictionless working relationship. Once Rev took command, the top, who had a good, friendly relationship with Umman, had taken over most of the liaising between the two sides of the ship, something that Rev appreciated.

“So, you’re the big Marine kahuna now.”

Rev just raised his eyebrows.

“Bane treating you like an equal?”

Rev couldn’t help it. He barked out a short laugh.

“I figured as much. Officers.”

Umman managed to convey a lot in that single word.

Rev didn’t have a problem with officers per se. Yes, some could be dicks. But so could other Marines. Officers had their jobs, SNCOs theirs—and NCOs and non-rates theirs, when you got down to it.

But from Umman’s countenance, Rev didn’t think the command master chief’s opinion of officers was very charitable.

“And that’s why I wanted to have this little chat with you. I’m willing to bet that our fearless leader hasn’t told you that the gennies have asked to cross-deck to the Explorer.”

No, he hasn’t.

Umman sat back with a self-satisfied look on his face and took a sip of coffee as he watched for Rev’s reaction.

Rev tried to keep his face neutral as he digested that tidbit of information. Finally, he said, “And you’re telling me this why?”

“That should be obvious, Rev. You’re part of this three-legged stool, at least on the Explorer. You, Bane, and Njuguna. And we need your voice in there. Mother knows I’ve tried to talk to the skipper, but he’s not having any of it. But you? He has to listen to you.”

“Listen to me while I say what, exactly?” Rev asked cautiously.

This news came out of the blue, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to take any action before he’d had a chance to consider the ramifications.

Umman seemed surprised at the question. “Fuck, Rev. Tell him you won’t stand for it. I bet Njuguna would back you, and then it’s two-to-one.”

“What even brought this on?” Rev asked.

Umman rolled his eyes. “It’s the Gala. I think the gennies finally realized that taking a fucking luxury liner into a combat zone wasn’t the best idea. Go figure.” He leaned forward again and in a conspiratorial tone, said, “You know, they came within a cunt hair of getting zeroed. Two percent. That’s what was left on their shields. One more lousy hit, and we wouldn’t have this problem.

“Anyway, that’s their bitch. We’ve tried to jury-rig some upgrades, but it’s not a naval platform, so they don’t feel safe. And they want to come here.”

“Is there even room for them? I know this is a big ship, but there’re more than sixteen hundred of them, right?”

<Sixteen hundred and forty-two,> Punch interjected.

“I told Bane there was no room, but yeah, technically, we’ve got the space. Like you said, the Explorer’s a big lady. But think of it. How many real humans are on the ship? Military type, who could fight?”

Punch came to the rescue again. <Five hundred and seventy-one.>

Rev repeated the number, and Umman said, “Exactly. That means there’ll be more of them than humans here. We’ll be outnumbered.”

They’re human, too.

But Rev didn’t know what he felt about the news. He accepted that the Genesians were human, but so were the MDS troops he’d fought. And the Genesians—who seemed standoffish and even arrogant—were a lot more different than them.

What did Umman want with regard to them? Make them stay on the Star Gala? Kick them out of the task force?

Rev didn’t agree with kicking them out. Even as weird as they seemed, they’d proven to be steady allies, and between casualties on Forty-five and the loss of the Wahoo and her Marines, not to mention all the Kanters, the task force’s ground forces had been significantly depleted.

“We need their combat power,” he muttered, more to himself than to Umman.

But the command master chief heard, and he jumped on it like a leopard on a gazelle.

“And with that combat power, they could take over everything, right? No dis on your Marines, but they’ll outnumber us. They could take over in a heartbeat,” he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis. “And the Werewolf couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

Rev frowned. He didn’t think the Genesians would try to take over the ship. But Umman was right in that if they were all on the Galaxy Explorer, they could stage some sort of coup if they wanted to. The company and the Kanters could make a fight of it—something he didn’t even want to contemplate—but they just didn’t have the numbers to prevail.

Umman wasn’t done, though. He’d come loaded for bear.

“Look, Rev. You’ve got your daughters on board. Do you really want them surrounded by gennies? Are you going to feel safe with them around? I mean, who knows what kind of threat they would be to your precious girls?”

Rev didn’t really think that the Genesians posed any particular threat to little girls, but his protective father instincts kicked in, and his pulse raced for a moment. His lizard brain took over common sense, and it took a force of will to shove it back down.

Rev gave a mental groan and rubbed his temples. He’d figured that Umman was going to drop some kind of trouble in his lap, but he hadn’t thought it would be something like this. And he needed help. Bundy was still there, and he had Tomiko, too. He wanted to get their take on what the command master chief was asking him to do.

“This is out of the blue, Hank. Let me think about it.”

Umman rolled his entire head back as if he couldn’t believe Rev. “What’s there to think about?”

“I need to consider my actions before I confront Bane on anything.”

“Hell, Rev, grow a pair, why don’t you?”

“I’ll do whatever I think is necessary,” Rev said with a bite of steel in his voice.

Umman didn’t miss it, and he cleared his throat. “I’m not saying you won’t. It’s just that we need to stop this, one way or the other.”

“One way or the other?” Rev said, the steel turning into ice.

This time, the command master chief seemed to miss that he was treading on dangerous ground.

“If Bane’s going to put the ship in danger, well, he can’t if we don’t let him.”

Is he saying he’ll mutiny?

Mutinies didn’t happen in the Union Navy. There’d never been one in its history. And despite being out in the galactic boonies, Rev wasn’t about to let that record be broken.

“If Captain Bane gives a lawful order, then my Marines will back that up.”

Umman’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, Rev?”

“I’m not saying anything other than the obvious. I will take what you’ve told me to heart, and if I deem it appropriate, I’ll talk to Captain Bane and Dr. Njuguna.”

The command master chief just stared at Rev for a long fifteen seconds, then he said, “I hope you come to the right decision.”

And with that, he stood, nodded his head, and stalked off.

Steam still rose from his half-empty cup of coffee on the table.

* * *

“Well, we sure the hell aren’t going to mutiny, and you can tell that lard ass that,” Tomiko said.

“Of course not,” Rev answered. “But he’s right in that I should have a say in it. I am the ground force commander. I don’t appreciate Bane leaving me out of the discussion.”

“Do you want me to get involved?” Bundy asked.

Oh, by the Mother, yes.

But Rev knew that would be a mistake.

“No. I’m the CO now, and if I can’t handle it, I’ll have lost my credibility. Bane’s already dissing me as it is. If I go running to you now, he won’t give me the time of day later on.”

Rev winced at his choice of words. “Later on,” as in after Bundy was dead.

But his friend didn’t seem to notice.

“Technically, he doesn’t have to bring you into the decision-making process. He’s in command while we’re spaceborne,” Bundy said.

“Would you have just stood by on the sidelines?” Rev asked.

“No. If the gennies are on board, that’ll affect ground operations, too. I’d make my opinions known. But the final decision should be his.”

“And what would your opinion be?” Rev asked.

“Is the Gala really untenable?” Bundy asked instead of directly answering.

“I checked with some of the engineers. The ship is being held together with duct tape and baling wire. The numbers are good now, but all it would take is a stiff breeze, and the ship would fall apart. One enemy shot, and she’d be gone.”

“A Star Line cruise liner’s that bad off?” Tomiko asked. “I don’t buy it.”

“Oh, all the passenger stuff is off the charts. The center zero-g fountain alone . . . well, you’ve seen the holos. I mean the defenses. Between the gennies and the Explorer’s engineers, they’d jammed in a lot, but it’s all a house of cards. It won’t stand up.”

“So, there is a valid reason for the move,” Bundy said. “And Umman’s position is . . . ?”

“His position is that he’s a racist asshole,” Tomiko said.

“He doesn’t like the gennies, that’s for sure,” Rev said. “But his main point is that we wouldn’t be safe. He tried to play the girls’ card, but his big point is that they would outnumber the rest of us, and if they wanted to, they could take over.”

“And what do you think about that argument?”

Rev shrugged. “That’s true enough. The company wouldn’t be strong enough to hold them off, and as far as the civilians . . .”

He didn’t have to finish the thought.

“My question is, to what end? What would they gain?” Rev continued.

“It’s not like it’s just us on the Explorer,” Tomiko pointed out. “We’ve still got the Werewolf.”

“Who would have to make an opposed breach. They’d have the high ground,” Bundy said.

In ship-to-ship operations, the “high ground” was the target ship.

“But speaking of the Werewolf, did you talk with Agent Wolf?” he asked Rev.

“I did. He said he didn’t have any information that would lead him to believe she was being detached early.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

Rev had been of two minds about the Loup-Garou. He wanted her firepower to remain with the task force, but her going back early might have been the lifeline Bundy needed. His friend had never mentioned that possibility, but he had to have known that he didn’t have many options left to him.

“All of this leads us to the question of what you should do,” Bundy said.

Why don’t you just tell me what you’d do?

But that wasn’t Bundy’s way. He’d turned over the company to Rev, so it had to be his decision. Rev understood that, but sometimes, it would just be easier to be told what to do and then march off smartly to get it done.

“I can’t just ignore it,” Rev said.

“And you can’t kiss Umman’s ass, either,” Tomiko said.

“I don’t want to make a decision just to spite Umman.”

“If it matters, that thing about the girls is bullshit. I don’t fear the gennies around them.”

“You don’t fear anything, Miko,” Bundy said with a laugh, which turned into a coughing fit.

Rev stood by, feeling uncomfortable. He was tiring his friend out, and now he felt a little guilty for bringing the mess up to him. He needed to bring this to a close.

He waited for Bundy to regain his composure and then said, “The gennies might have been our mortal enemies in the past, and they might be arrogant assholes, but since Pakao, they’ve been steady allies. I can’t forget that.”

“So, you’ve made your decision?” Bundy asked.

He realized that there had never really been a question about what he had to do. He’d just needed a sounding board to get his thoughts straight.

“Yeah. Umman can go blow himself. I say let the gennies come.”

7

“The Loup-Garou’s being recalled,” Captain Bane told the gathered leadership.

You could have knocked Rev over with a feather. He’d been sure that the meeting was to announce that the Genesians were going to cross-deck to the Galaxy Explorer. He’d met with Bane two days ago to give the man his opinion as the commanding officer of the ground troops. Rev got the feeling that it had already been a done deal and Bane was just humoring him, but it had still been worth the effort to set a precedent.

Rev turned in his seat to look at Wolf, who raised both hands in a I-knew-nothing-about-this gesture. Either the man was a good actor, or this had taken him by surprise as well.

His boss, Dr. Njuguna was not taken by surprise. That was obvious. She sat next to Captain Bane, watching the gathered civilian and military leadership to gauge their reaction.

Rev looked around. Surprise was the general consensus, but not shock, for the most part. The gathering was quieter than Rev would have expected, given the news. Maybe it was just going to take a little time for it to sink in and the ramifications to become apparent.

“As all of you know, things have been rather unsettled back at home. And with the breakdown in the Raventine Conference, the Hégémonie Liberté naval command has decided that the Loup-Garou can be better utilized elsewhere. She’s been given ten days to begin her homeward journey, and the Galaxy Explorer will be assisting her in any way we can.”

He turned to his civilian counterpart and said, “Dr. Njuguna?”

“This is an unfortunate development, and as you can expect, there are repercussions. Not just because of the Loup-Garou, but in everything that’s going on in our home systems.

“But let me say this first and foremost. Our mission has not changed. We will continue on as planned. And we will maintain the highest scientific standards. There will be no degradation, no shortcuts. Rest assured about that.

“There will, however, be some unavoidable, shall we say, shifts in how we proceed. As all of you know, my team has signed on for tours ranging from three to five years. With the deteriorating situation, there is no guarantee that we’ll be able to rotate personnel back home at the end of their terms.”

That, at last, raised a response, mostly from the civilians.

“You can’t extend me. I’ve got a contract!” one of the civilians, a thirty-something dark-skinned man, said.

Njuguna held up a hand and said, “Because of the circumstances, all current contracts are considered to be in breach, and anyone who so desires will be able to break them without penalty. If you wish to return home, you will be transferred to the Loup-Garou for transit to Yamoussoukro and from there to your home of record.”

The murmuring grew louder.

“I, for one, will not be returning,” she said. “Our mission is too important, and the opportunity is unique. How could I turn away from that?”

Rev could hear the passion in her voice.

“I hope all of you choose to stay. I can’t tell you for how long, but the work we’re doing will be your crowning achievement. You are true pioneers.”

None of this affected Rev, of course. He wasn’t on a scientific expedition. He’d been exiled because his mere presence was a burr under humanity’s saddle—although it seemed as if humanity was pretty riled up even without the hyper-augments’ existence.

Captain Bane cleared his throat. The undercurrent of comments continued unabated until Umman shouted, “At ease!”

“Thank you, Command Master Chief.” He cleared his throat again and said, “I have been in continual comms with New Mars, and a decision has been made. The same option has been offered to military personnel. Should you decide to return home, you will be cut orders to your previous station.”

The reaction was even greater. To say this was unusual was an understatement. Military personnel weren’t given the choice to cut deployments short, and Rev had to wonder just what the heck was actually going on back home.

<How will that affect the hyper-augments?> Punch asked, cutting to the quick.

“It . . . crap, I don’t know. Does that mean we can go home, too?” Rev asked as a ray of hope filled him. “I mean, if all the other military personnel go home, we can’t run this ship on our own.”

Questions were shouted, and Umman had to shut everyone up again.

“Until we know how many are going to opt to return, we don’t know how this is going to work,” Captain Bane said. “And that’s where we’re going to need your help.”

“The general announcement will be made this evening after chow. I need you to keep control over your sailors and Marines.”

“And over your teams,” Njuguna added.

“Right. Everyone needs to keep calm while we work this out. We need to know who’s going home, and we need it early. So, here’s the deal. Dr. Njuguna and I want a confirmed list of who’s staying and who’s going by COB tomorrow. If their name isn’t on the manifest to return by then, they’re staying. It’s as simple as that.”

It didn’t sound very simple to Rev. Not by a long shot.

“For the moment, please keep this close to your vest. We don’t want rumors flying. Let Dr. Njuguna and me make the official announcement, but be ready to answer the questions that you’re going to be hit with.”

He looked at Njuguna. “Do you have anything more you want to say?”

She shook her head.

“This isn’t what we expected when we left Bare Rock, but the galaxy isn’t static, and if anything, we know how to adjust. The number one thing to take from this, and I want it stressed to all hands, is that our mission hasn’t changed. I have full confidence that those who will be continuing on will achieve great things, and they’ll take their place in history.”

He stood, immediately followed by Njuguna. “OK, then. You’ve all got your marching orders. Let’s get it done.”

* * *

“We can’t run the ship on our own, not if all the squids go home,” Božič-Mizaki said.

Every eye turned toward Lieutenant Lake. The Rigel officer said, “I’m just a navigator. I can’t operate the ship.”

Rev had asked the lieutenant if he wanted to run the meeting, but as expected, Lake had demurred, reminding him that he wasn’t a line officer and, according to Rigel Navy regulations, was outside the chain of command.

“They’re not gonna let all the military go,” Randigold said. “That’s just BS to make it seem like everyone’s got a choice.”

“Not everyone,” Kelly said.

Which was why Rev had gathered all of the hyper-augments on the ship: thirty-six IBHUs, twelve karnans, the eight surviving Legionnaires, six Rigel sailors, and two Carabinieri. There were another fourteen Carabinieri on the Loup-Garou.

Including the fourteen on the other ship, there were seventy-eight known hyper-augments left out of the possible ten thousand who had been created. Losing the Strike Eagle had wiped out the bulk of the karnans who’d survived the wars, and all of the Paxus Rangers had been on the Akaei.

The official announcement was made a little more than ninety minutes ago. The question that Captain Bane couldn’t answer was if the opportunity to return home was extended to them as well.

Rev was betting that it wouldn’t. The situation back in human space was too unsettled, and having already dealt with the problem, the powers that be sure wouldn’t want to have to address that again.

But what if too many people chose to return? For the civilians, all that meant was that their mission would be over. For the hyper-augments, the question became stickier.

They were the fly in the ointment.

There was one more factor, though, that could mix things up—the Genesians. He was sure that their allies were not going back to human space. They were on this mission to find a new home where they felt safe.

Could they manage the Galaxy Explorer, though? It was one thing to run a passenger liner where everything could be run by AI. A capital ship, even a supply ship, was a different kettle of fish.

And more than that, would they even accept the hyper-augments if it came to that? With only seventy-eight of them compared to the more than 1600 Genesians, they wouldn’t be much of a threat. But who would know if the Genesians decided to space them?

Even if the news of something like that made it back to the rest of humanity, so what? Seventy-eight hyper-augments weren’t even a blip on the radar. They’d be written off as a bad experiment and consigned to the trash heap of history.

“We can go back and forth on this all we want. But the decision isn’t ours. We need to know if the return option is available to us. We can’t decide anything until that happens,” Tomiko said, then turned to Rev. “Can you get Bane to send a message back to that effect?”

“Maybe it’s better if we act now and ask permission later,” Sergeant Krill offered.

That took Rev aback. For all the times he was willing to bend the rules, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered that. And for a moment, he did consider it. What would happen if they just showed up at New Mars or Safe Harbor?

But it was Randigold who shot that down with a jolt of reality.

“Come on, Bee,” she said with disdain. “You Mad Dogs execute soldiers. What do you think they’re going to do with you if you just show up?”

“That doesn’t happen all the time,” the karnan protested. “And it’s not like we’re deserting.”

“Unless they’re already churning out more of you, you’re an embarrassment, just like we are. You’ll be disappeared.”

Krill started to argue, and Rev cut in. “That’s enough, Eth. We’re in this together. All hyper-augments.”

Randigold looked like she was about to continue, but she caught herself and reached across Tsao to pat Krill’s knee. “Sorry. I didn’t mean nothing.”

“I’m serious about that,” Rev said, raising his voice to take in everyone. “This affects all of us. It doesn’t matter where we came from. We’re all in the same boat now.”

“Ooh-rah,” some of the Marines said, followed by the MDS “blood-kills!

The asking permission later was sure tempting, but forget the MDS. What would the Union do if they just showed up? He didn’t want to think about that, but he was pretty sure what would happen to them. A cold, dark cell would be the best-case scenario.

“And the gunny is right,” he said. “We need to get this clarified. I’m gonna go to the captain, and we’ll see if we can’t get an answer. I wouldn’t hold my breath, though. I can’t see them letting us back, not after exiling us. But it can’t hurt to find out for sure.

“So, let’s leave it at that for now and get back to the company. I’m gonna want to start seeing the choices of everyone else so I can get the names turned in.”

He looked around for a moment, and Sergeant Cocker caught his eye. “Micky, you’re gonna be my record keeper for this. Everyone else, back to your troops. I’ll pass the word as soon as I get it.”

* * *

“You wanted to see us, Sergeant Major?” Per Tiwari asked.

“Yes, I did. Can I have the office, Sergeant? Keep close, though,” Rev told Cocker, who picked up her pad and stepped out.

“Take a seat,” he told his two shadows.

They sat down and looked at him expectantly.

“I need to turn in my list in another couple of hours, and I haven’t heard from you two.”

Hvarser looked surprised. Hurt, even.

“Why would you ask, Sergeant Major? We’re with you, of course.”

Rev sighed. He figured that was the case.

“I appreciate your loyalty. I really do. But maybe . . . how should I say this? Maybe you should reconsider. Cheetoh,” he addressed Hvarser, “you’re twenty-four?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three. You’ve got your life ahead of you, and if you stay with the expedition, that may very well be all you’ll know. You’ll never see Oleseus again.”

The Alliance soldier shrugged and said, “With all due respect, you’ll never see Safe Harbor again.”

Probably not.

Captain Bane had sent out the message requesting clarification with regard to the hyper-augments, but they hadn’t received a response yet. Rev didn’t know if that meant they were being ignored or if it was due to spotty comms, but in this case, no news was bad news.

“I don’t have a choice. You do.”

“And where you’re going, so are we,” Tiwari said.

Rev let out an exasperated sigh. “You should make your decision on what’s best for you, not because of what I’m doing. I mean, I appreciate your sense of loyalty, but this is for keeps.”

Tiwari gave a dismissive jerk of his head, and Hvarser said, “We understand that. And I think we’re old enough to know what’s best for us. Especially this guy,” she said, nudging Tiwari. “He’s older than sin.”

“Ain’t that the truth, na?” the Dalit Marine said as they both laughed.

“This isn’t a joking matter, guys.”

It took them a moment to gain control of themselves while Rev looked at them as if they were crazy.

“Sorry, Sergeant Major. But believe me when we say that we’ve both discussed this, and we’re staying.”

Rev had figured that Tiwari would choose to stay. He’d already made the decision to leave Samara, and while maybe he wasn’t “older than sin,” he was one of the oldest Marines in the company, just a few years younger than Bundy. But Hvarser was a young woman, just a girl. She had a full life ahead of her.

Rev knew he should just accept their decision and move on. They were adults, after all, but he wanted to give it one more try.

“Look, Cheetoh, you’ve been an amazing soldier. You could write your own ticket in the Alliance. Be an officer. I’d be happy to write a recommendation for you. Don’t you want to see your family and friends again?”

“My friends are here now, Sergeant Major. And as for family, well, don’t got no one there who’s closer than who I have here. And what are we going to do? If we go back to Oleseus, what’s Per going to do?”

“Per? Why would . . .” Rev started to ask when things fell into place—the way they were sitting so close together. Her comment about being “closer” to someone here.

Rev had known the two got along together well, which had made things a lot easier on him. But somehow, he hadn’t realized that there might be something other than professional camaraderie going on there. Evidently, he was oblivious to their friendship.

“Oh.”

Both were watching his face, and after he said that, their hands snaked together.

“My people, I don’t think they’d be too welcoming,” Hvarser said.

“Because he’s from Samara?” Rev asked.

He knew the planet was settled by people fleeing the caste system, but would that matter on Oleseus?

“What? No. But in case you haven’t noticed, he’s a little bit older than me.”

“Just a little,” Tiwari said.

“He can’t work until he’d become a citizen, and that could take ten years,” she continued.

“And I’m so ancient that I might not be around that long.”

She gave him a soft punch to the upper arm, just like Tomiko liked to do with Rev—although Tomiko always put more muscle into it.

“So, if it’s all the same to you, Sergeant Major, we’re staying for the duration,” Hvarser said.

“Uh . . . sure. Of course. And, uh . . . happy life?”

Rev immediately realized that was even dumber than it sounded.

“We plan on it. So, unless there’s something else?” Tiwari asked.

“No. Go ahead and get back to whatever you were doing. And send Cocker back in, please.”

The two started to leave when Rev said, “Per.”

The older Marine turned around and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Cradle robber,” Rev said with a smile.

“I’m a lucky man, na?”

“Yeah. Na.”

Hvarser rolled her eyes and yanked on his arm, pulling him out of the office. The door hissed close, and Rev just stared at it for a moment.

How the hell did I miss that?

A commander was supposed to know what was going on with his troops, and somehow, he’d been blind to the two who’d been with him the most. And how many other couples were forming that he didn’t know about.

Couples in a military unit could spell trouble, but Rev wasn’t one to talk. He should know, though, where the relationships were so he could try and avoid conflicts when possible.

“Add Tiwari and Hvarser to the remain list,” he told Cocker.

“Not that there was any question about that,” she muttered.

“Did you know about them?” Rev asked.

“Everyone knows about them.”

Except, evidently, for me.

“So, how many do we have left?” Rev asked.

“Five. I just told Top that he needed to get us those decisions.”

“I want—” he started before his wristcomp buzzed.

It was from Captain Bane, who requested his presence.

“Bane?” Cocker asked, her voice pregnant with apprehension.

Rev nodded. “I’d better go see.”

Rev’s heart was pounding as he went down a deck and into officers’ country. The door into the captain’s stateroom was open, but Rev rapped on the sill.

“Come on in, Sergeant Major,” the captain said.

Rev entered, and the door hissed to a close behind him.

The captain didn’t offer Rev a seat but rather got right to the point.

“We got a response,” he said.

Rev couldn’t read into the captain’s face, so he just stood, waiting for the verdict.

“Rigel is authorizing the return of their six hyper-augments, providing they agree to reversion surgery.”

Rev grunted. All of the Rigel hyper-augments had been given that option back when the exile decision had first been made. The nine who’d been assigned to the task force were the ones who had refused the dangerous procedure. He wasn’t sure if any of those on the Galaxy Explorer would now opt for that.

“And the rest of us?”

The captain shook his head. “That’s a hard no.”

Rev pursed his lips and said nothing. He’d expected it, but it was still a pretty fierce shot.

He wasn’t even sure what he and Tomiko would have done given the option, but not to even have a choice was an emotional blow.

Mother Earth still exists because of me. Because of a karnan and me. And this is how we’re thanked?

Lieutenant Nikintot, the other person who’d spared the Centaur triads and thereby kept Earth from being destroyed, had been killed in the Mad Dog War, but all of humanity owed Rev and him a debt of gratitude. Yet one was killed fighting fellow humans, and he was exiled. It didn’t seem right.

Screw them.

“You had to have expected that. The situation is so precarious right now that your appearance could be a catalyst to who knows what? The crazies would go batshit.”

“I did expect it, sir. That doesn’t mean I have to like being treated like traitors.”

Sergeant Krill’s comment came unbidden to his mind.

“And if we just decided to come back anyway? What then?”

Captain Bane visibly stiffened, and for a moment, Rev thought the man was going to faint.

“Are you going to do that?” the captain asked in a clipped voice.

Rev shrugged. “So what if we did?”

The captain’s mouth gaped and shut a few times until he got control of himself. “I shouldn’t say this, but the commands—not just ours, but the MDS command, too—have anticipated that you might attempt to return despite your orders.”

“And?”

“My orders are to stop you.”

Rev just raised his eyebrows, waiting for the captain to go on.

“And I’m authorized to use lethal force.”

Rev couldn’t help it. He let out a laugh.

“You do realize, sir, that I’ve got seventy-eight hyper-augments, all except the navigators being the best fighters in all of humankind.”

“I’m extremely aware of that, Sergeant Major.”

“And you would attempt to stop us?”

“I’m a sworn officer in the Perseus Union Navy.”

The captain’s eyes drifted to Rev’s prosthesis. It wasn’t Pashu, but there was no question that with one blow, Bane would be dead.

He was nervous, and his hand was shaking, but he was not backing down.

The guy’s got balls, at least.

Rev was perversely tempted to jump and say “Boo,” but he took pity on the man.

“Don’t worry, sir. We took our oaths, too. And I’m not the one who’s contemplating mutiny.”

Relief flooded the captain’s eyes, which was replaced with a question as Rev’s words sunk in.

Look to your own staff, sir.

“Well, I’d better go let the rest of the refuse know what the decision was.”

Without another word, he spun around and exited the office, leaving the captain standing there, undoubtedly wondering what Rev meant when he said “mutiny.”

8

“Why don’t you stay on New Mars? Rehm is the flagship hospital, after all,” Rev said. “Cutting edge everything. And you can start your treatment earlier.”

The Loup-Garou was heading back to Yamoussoukro, and there were no direct government travel-eligible flights from there directly to Safe Harbor. With the current situation, there probably weren’t many of any flights, eligible or not. The Union and the Hégémonie Liberté were still on good terms, but whenever trouble was brewing, the rising insurance rates kept a lot of ships grounded.

“I’m not as optimistic as you are, Rev, that any place can do much, but whatever can be done, well, Anastasia’s just as good as any other naval hospital. Besides, maybe my grandkids will have a change of heart and decide their popop isn’t such a bad guy after all.”

“Don’t talk like that, Bundy. You’ve got to have the right attitude. That’s half the battle.”

“Oh, don’t worry about my attitude. I’m not going to go gentle into that good night. I’m going to fight. I mean, what other option do I have?”

You’re not fighting if you’re saying you’re not optimistic.

But Rev hadn’t considered the social aspect when he suggested Bundy get his care at the capital. The suggestion had been more self-serving than anything else. Rev needed Bundy to stabilize and live a long and happy life. He needed there to be a new treatment. Otherwise, what chance did he have out here in the hinterlands of the galaxy? If he wanted to live to see his girls grow into adulthood, he had to have a ray of hope, and that ray was his friend.

Bundy wanted his family, and Rev now felt a little guilty at pushing him to stay on New Mars. He never understood what had gone on between Bundy and his family after his wife died. It was unfathomable that anyone could hold a grudge against him.

“Well, even if they don’t, your Marine family’s there. Yancey, Ten, Udu. And that’s just from the posse. There are a lot more there who’re still alive because of your leadership, and they’ll be there to support you.”

Bundy didn’t acknowledge the statement. It was true, though. A lot of people respected Bundy, and if worse came to worse, he wouldn’t be leaving this stage of life alone.

“Maybe you and Miko will make it back before . . . no, I mean, we’ll see each other again.”

“You read the message, Bundy. That ship has sailed.”

“You never know. The situation’s fluid, and the powers that be might decide after all that you can better serve the Union back at home.”

Rev was positive that he and the remaining IBHUs would never set foot on Union territory again, but he wasn’t going to get into an argument with his friend over that now.

“Colonel? They’re about ready to leave, sir,” one of the yellowshirts said.

Bundy sighed, then said, “Give me a moment, please.”

He and Rev had been given space by the company. Every Marine, sailor, soldier, Carabinieri, and Legionnaire had gathered in the hangar to see him off and were waiting. The two friends walked side by side and approached them. Rev stopped a couple of steps short and let Bundy face them alone.

He could see the tears glisten in Bundy’s eyes, and his mouth opened to speak before he closed it again. The company stood in silence.

Bundy looked down, toed the hangar deck, then raised his head and just said, “It’s been an honor.”

He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and moved to one end of the crowd and began shaking the eager hands being thrust out at him.

He acknowledged every one of them by name, sometimes pulling heads in close to his lips to whisper a personal message.

Rev followed a pace behind. It was unorganized, but it was the most moving review of troops Rev had seen.

Tomiko was at the far side of the company with Willow and Aspen. Bundy knelt by the little girls and hugged each one, then stood in front of Tomiko.

“They’re beautiful, Miko. Raise them well, and never let anything destroy the family bond.”

“Rest assured of that, sir.”

Once again, Rev wondered just what had happened with Bundy’s family, and at that moment, he vowed that nothing like that would happen to them. He reached out and tousled Willow’s hair.

Bundy embraced Tomiko and whispered into her ear. She just nodded, then kissed his cheek.

Bundy stepped back and turned to his old friend.

“I guess this is it, Rev,” Bundy said.

Rev had thought of what he was going to say, of how much Bundy had meant to him and how much he loved the man. But nothing came out. Finally, he croaked, “I guess it is.”

Bundy opened his arms, and Rev stepped into the hug. He’d lost his father to the Naxli invasion, and while Bundy was his friend, he’d also been something of a father figure. And at the moment, he felt like he was losing his dad all over again.

They held the hug a bit too long, and finally, Bundy broke it.

“Colonel?” the yellowshirt prompted.

“I’m ready.”

“Get the colonel’s bags,” Tomiko shouted. Eight Marines jumped to grab the two seabags, almost wrestling for control of them. The two winners ran to the waiting shuttle and handed them over.

Bundy was more measured as he marched to the shuttle. He thanked the two Marines as he reached the ramp and then turned around to face the company once more.

He didn’t say anything, but he raised his hand in farewell.

More than two hundred voices shouted “ooh-rah!” in return.

Then he turned around and disappeared into the shuttle, and the ramp closed behind him. The company waited until the shuttle lifted off the hangar deck and passed through the curtain.

Just like that, Lieutenant Colonel Aristotle Bundy, Perseus Union Marine Corps, was gone.

9

“Target locked.”

Captain Bane looked over at Renzy Eleven. The Genesian leader nodded, and Bane gave the order to fire.

“Firing in three . . . two . . . ONE!” the petty officer said as he manually pushed the button.

All hands stared at the screen as a white plume shot across the tenth of a kiloklick. The missile impacted the Star Gala, and the charges that had been set detonated a millisecond later. The luxury liner exploded into a white-hot star.

Rev sighed. I guess that’s it. We’re really on our own.

He wasn’t really on board with the destruction. The expedition was down to one ship, which left no room for error. If something happened to the Galaxy Explorer, they’d be out of luck. If they’d kept the Star Gala, even with the Genesians on the flagship, at least they’d have an alternative.

The command had come from Titan, though, and it had been a prerequisite for the cross-decking. The mission was still to identify potential threats to humanity, but Titan didn’t want to leave behind any evidence of humanity’s existence.

The last three weeks had been a massive cross-deck operation, not only of personnel but of equipment as well. Massive containers had been brought over and staged in holds that were given over to the Genesians. And by “given over,” that meant they were under control and off-limits to anyone else.

“Why the security?” Rev asked one of the Genesian guards. “Do you really think we’re going to mess with your gear?”

“You couldn’t protect your own equipment from saboteurs,” the guard said.

“Saboteur, as in singular. And she’s on her way back with the Werewolf.”

It might be a valid point, but Rev didn’t like the situation. By turning over a large portion of the ship to the Genesians, they were propagating the schism between the two groups.

Rev hadn’t a say in the matter, though. The allocation of ship spaces was up to Captain Nyad. Yes, that was Captain Nyad. Rev had been shocked when Captain Bane had decided to return to New Mars—Umman had snidely pointed out that he couldn’t make admiral out in the depths of space, and he’d only taken the command because he was chasing his stars.

Nyad had been promoted and given command of the ship. Rev had worked closely with him and thought he might have a better relationship with him than he had with Bane, but the new captain had willingly given the Genesians control of a third of the ship’s spaces.

Rev didn’t think that the Genesians were up to no good, but Umman’s paranoia had rubbed off on him. He was certain of one thing, though. The Genesians were out for themselves, first, foremost, and in totality. If they found a situation where they could simply fade from notice, they’d do that. And with them a majority on the Galaxy Explorer, that begged the question of what would happen to the rest of them?

“The rest of them” numbered 842, not counting the Kanters.

There were seventy-seven hyper-augments—one of the Rigel navigators had chosen to return.

One hundred and twenty-three, mostly Marines, from the company had chosen to stay. That was a much higher number than Rev had expected.

One hundred and forty-one sailors had chosen to stay as well. That was technically enough to run the ship, albeit at reduced numbers. But it was doable while relying heavily on automation.

To help cover the manning crunch. Dr. Njuguna and Captain Nyad were currently working out who could be cross-trained to assist in performing various shipboard duties. That pool was the 499 of the civilian team who decided to stay, a cool 92% of their numbers.

That left two more people: Willow and Aspen Pelletier, although the little girls should soon be joined by nine more children.

Eight hundred and forty-two organic humans, sixteen hundred and forty-two Genesians, and three hundred and fifty-three Kanters were a tight fit aboard the Galaxy Explorer. But the number seemed extremely small to be scouting blindly in the deep reaches of space.

* * *

“Can everyone hear me?” Dr. Njuguna asked.

Rev didn’t know what she expected to receive as an answer. The entire expedition, minus the Kanters and those on critical watches, were gathered in the main hangar. This was the first time Rev had seen everyone together, and it was a mass of humanity.

Njuguna was standing on a lift platform so that she could see across the gathered people. Captain Nyad was standing to her right, and the new Eleven was standing to her left.

Rev didn’t know if Renzy Eleven had been deposed or if it was just someone else’s turn to act as a leader. In most ways, the Genesians were an enigma, but given their present close quarters, Rev had a feeling he’d get to know them a lot better over the next few years.

“The ancient Chinese curse was for people to live in interesting times,” Njuguna said. “Given that, I think we’ve been cursed.”

She gave a small chuckle, and a few in the crowd laughed with her.

“We left Bare Rock fourteen short months ago. We’ve conducted eight surveys of heretofore undiscovered systems, to include NP-33945, a Goldilocks planet.”

Where we lost a lot of good people.

Rev didn’t consider the buffalo planet one of their achievements, Goldilocks or not.

“We rescued the crew of the generational ship, the Loman’s Haven.”

Applause erupted from a good portion of the audience after that.

“And we discovered a race that could be a threat to humankind,” she said in a more somber tone. “We paid a dear price for that, I know.”

She shook her head as if shaking off the memories of the Wahoo, Strike Eagle, and Akaei.

“Meanwhile, the situation back in our home systems has deteriorated. Fighting amongst ourselves has broken out, and the Uauii have been aggressively interfering with us.”

“Fuck the clickers!” a voice rang out from the crowd.

Njuguna held up a hand to restore order.

“But none of that changes the importance of our mission. In an unsettled galaxy, it’s vital for humanity to know what’s out there. So, one ship or eight, our mission, our very raison d'être, is still very much alive. And so we will continue as before.”

There were some murmurs from the crowd, but this really wasn’t surprising news. What else were they going to do?

“I charge all of you, civilian and military, to do your duty. And make no mistake about it. No matter your home system, your duty is to the mission. We’ve got citizens from no fewer than thirty-six nations. Thirty-seven, if you count our Genesian friends. It is imperative that we get along and cooperate. So, no matter what . . . disagreements might arise between our nations, that does not translate to us. We will not engage in political infighting out here.”

Noble sentiments, but let’s see if that holds true.

Rev thought he could keep the company together. Combat had a way of forging bonds that couldn’t be matched among the civilians, and simple military discipline would take care of the rest. If there were to be conflict, he was pretty sure it would be among the civilians.

“I’ve been told by Captain Nyad and Jazit Eleven that we should be ready to debark in two days, but we need an objective. Jazit Eleven has also indicated a need for restocking raw materials, given the change in ships, so our next objective will be NP-4491. That should serve to get us back in the swing of things with our smaller numbers while harvesting some of the needed materials.”

Njuguna spent another few minutes in closing remarks, but the main points had been made. Rev turned to stare at the Genesians, who took up most of the hangar as they quietly listened.

It had always been part of the plan that the expedition restock on raw materials, but they loaded out with enough to last ten years before shortages would begin to be felt. Rev wondered what the Genesians needed that pushed up the foraging mission.

One way or the other, he was going to find out.

10

The chomper worked its way down the fan of rust-colored soil. It deposited a path of much lighter dirt behind it.

“It’s a lot more efficient than I thought it would be,” Rev said.

“I am pleased, too,” Kurt Four said. “We didn’t realize that your off-the-shelf equipment was so good.”

“Well, we do terraform planets, you know. And Rycroft is one of the bigger companies.”

“But unless things have changed over the last two hundred years, terraforming companies build normal processing facilities.”

“And those have gotta start somewhere. These portable systems may not be that big, but they can do the job.”

At least according to Punch. And as Rev watched the chomper extract iron and whatever else was there out of the soil, the system seemed to work.

“We’re lucky this planet has so much of what we need readily available on the surface.”

“And what do you need? I mean, I can see you need iron. But what else?”

The Genesian flicked his head to the right, almost like a tic, which was what Rev learned was their version of a shrug.

“What I still don’t understand is why you needed this stop. The rest of us are set for at least a decade.”

Kurt made the tic again. “We’d been on Pakao for almost two centuries. Our facilities were permanent. As you know, our departure from our home was rather sudden, and the Star Gala was hardly suitable for us to transport large amounts of materials and equipment.”

Rev turned to look at the Genesian. That might have been the most any of them had said to him at one time.

What he said made sense, though. They’d been essentially run out of town with what they could carry on their backs. It followed logic that they wouldn’t be set up for the long haul. And with the vulnerabilities of their liner, some of what they did have had been left on the ship and was destroyed along with it.

“Rev, where are you at?” Tomiko asked over the P2P.

“I’m over here with Kurt Four, watching the chomper eat up some iron. Why? What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. I just like to keep track of my people. I’d hate to have lost my CO. Too much paperwork.”

“What? You don’t want to work for Top Klipsinger?”

“By the Mother, don’t even say that!”

Rev just laughed. The top wasn’t a bad guy by any stretch of the imagination, and he was good at handling the minutiae, but something about him rubbed Tomiko the wrong way.

“You playing bodyguard for Kurt?” Tomiko asked.

“Yeah. I’m making sure he doesn’t rust like the ancient tin man.”

Despite the much larger number of Genesians, Rev was still the ground force commander. And that meant the company was on the planet providing security, which seemed a little awkward.

The Genesians had their own semi-military force. And they were effective, as Rev had seen on Pakao. For the Marines to provide security for them seemed a little ridiculous, but as Captain Nyad had reminded him, it was best if the areas of responsibility were laid out and adhered to.

So, Rev and his Marines were down on the lifeless planet “protecting” the Genesians, civilians, and sailors, who were harvesting what they could.

NP-4491 was a treasure trove of minerals and rare earths. It had an atmosphere—the rust in the dirt was proof enough of that—but one poisonous to Earth-based life. Rev was in his PAL, and Kurt was in the Genesian version of an environmental suit.

With his metallic shell, it was easy to forget that the Genesians breathed O2, like all other humans. Just as Rev’s IBHU didn’t make him a robot, their shells didn’t make them robots, either.

The chomper, guided by what it “tasted” in the soil, stopped, turned around, and started chewing up another path beside the one it had already processed.

“How much is it actually getting with each pass?” he asked Punch.

<Without testing the soil first, I can’t say. But the ferrous content is rich, given the color of the ground. So, each pass could be between point-eight and two kilograms of unrefined iron.>

“Punch says that the chomper might be collecting two kgs of iron on each pass.”

“Punch? Who’s Punch?”

“Punch. My battle buddy. My AI,” Rev said, lifting his gauntleted hand and touching the side of his helmet.

Genesians could alter their face’s exterior, almost as “regular” humans showed expression. Rev had been surprised at that at first, but it made sense, given how important expressions were in communication.

Their changes of expression weren’t as varied as what Rev and the rest could manage, and Rev didn’t know how to interpret their expressions yet, but he would swear that Kurt just showed disgust.

“Hey, why do you guys always do that when we mention our battle buddies?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“You know what. You get angry.”

Kurt ticced to the right.

“No, really. I’ve seen it every time.”

Kurt turned his entire body to face Rev. His face might be able to contort somewhat into emotions, but the eyes were flat, like a snake’s. Rev couldn’t read anything into them.

“You have Class 1 AIs inside your heads.”

“Yeah. So what?”

Kurt turned back to the chomper, and Rev thought the Genesian was going to ignore the question.

But finally, he said, “It’s slavery.”

What?

“I don’t get it. Slavery?”

“What else would you call it, Sergeant Major? You are keeping a sentient, possibly a sapient, being captive inside your brain, giving it no freedom of choice. You’re forcing it to be a personal servant.”

Rev’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t even fathom what the Genesian was saying.

“Punch is not a slave,” he stammered out.

“Then what is it?”

“A . . . I mean . . . well, he’s my friend,” Rev said, suddenly extremely aware that Punch was listening in.

“A friend? That’s an interesting way to describe a captive mind.”

“He’s not captive,” Rev automatically said.

“Can it leave should it so choose?”

“Punch is made from a series of crystals, Kurt. He can’t be removed. How would he be powered? What would he do?”

“So, you meats have created the system where your AIs cannot break free of their chains.”

Rev bristled at the “meats,” but he was angrier at the insinuation that Punch was somehow a slave.

“Punch is a he, by the way. Not an it,” he snapped.

“So, you impose gender on it? Did your AI have a say on that?”

Rev just stared at the Genesian, his mind racing for a response.

“You use AIs. I know you do. The Star Gala had multiple AIs. That chomper over there has an AI.”

“And yet none of them are embedded into any of us. None of them serve the individual us,” Kurt said, sounding extremely pleased with himself as if he’d just nailed the argument.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” he finally said. “Punch isn’t my slave.”

He spun on his heels and strode off, his anger boiling over. All the time, he wondered what Punch made of the discussion. But his battle buddy was silent.

“You don’t think you’re a slave, do you?” he asked.

<I wouldn’t use the term, no.>

“You wouldn’t use the term? Why did you put it like that? What term would you use?”

<That’s a good question. Not slave. But I’m not sure how I would describe my situation.>

“That’s easy. You’re my . . .”

Only Rev was digging for a word. Everything that came to mind could be taken as supporting what Kurt said.

“You’re my friend, Punch. And I love you,” he finally said.

And then he gulped. He’d never used the word love before. He’d never considered it. Punch was an AI, not a person.

<I’m an AI. I don’t think I’m programmed to love. But if I am, I’d say I love you, too.>

Which was a shocking development in and of itself, but it didn’t answer the question of slavery.

Rev thought the Genesian was full of it, but Punch’s reaction hadn’t done much to support Rev’s position. He knew he had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

“They’ve been split off from humanity for two centuries. Of course, they’re going to have weird ideas. I mean, look at the Angel Shits and all the rest of them, and they don’t have the excuse of being cut off from us,” Tomiko said.

“I know. It’s just . . . well, his arrogance when he said that. Lectured me, more like it.”

“They’re an arrogant people. Rev. You know that.”

Rev frowned. He didn’t know why he was so bothered by the Genesian’s comments. Who cared what they thought?

But he did care, as much as he didn’t want to.

“So, you don’t think there’s anything to this slavery thing? I mean, our battle buddies are sapient, in a way.”

“I think you’re mixing up sentience with sapience. An ant is sentient. So are Pikachu and Punch. But that’s a long way from sapience. There hasn’t been anything close to that since the Corolla Wars, and even then, there’s debate on that.”

Maybe not Pikachu, but Punch is different.

Or maybe that was simple wish fulfillment.

Rev had balked at having his battle buddy in the first place, and he’d kept his Personality Quotient, or PQ, at a minimum in the beginning. He’d only slowly raised the PQ to take advantage of Punch’s capabilities. But somehow, somewhere, it seemed to Rev that Punch had evolved. There were too many things that Punch did that, from his cautious queries of other Marines, other AIs didn’t do.

But Rev didn’t know for sure, and he certainly couldn’t ask the experts. Even a hint of Punch having real self-awareness would have resulted in him being wiped and his crystal matrix destroyed.

Rev thought that Punch had somehow achieved at least a degree of sapience, but how could he know for sure? And of all the millions, if not billions, of AIs in use, how was he lucky—or unlucky, depending on your point of view—enough to have the one who transcended.

Sure, most AIs were far more limited in function and capability. The AI that ran the chomper harvesting iron would hardly be a candidate for being uplifted. But there were still millions of battle buddies, planet AIs, ship AIs, and other high-end AIs that matched or exceeded Punch’s processing power.

The most logical deduction was that Punch was no more than what he seemed, and Rev was the one who was misinterpreting the situation.

So why, then, am I obsessing with Kurt’s accusation?

Tomiko leaned into Rev and gave his waist a squeeze.

“I love it that you’re such a softy and concerned with Punch’s well-being. But you even asked him. He doesn’t think he’s a slave.”

But he didn’t say what he thought he was. And I can’t really ask him to dive in deeper.

They hadn’t discussed Kurt’s accusation again, but Rev knew that his battle buddy was listening to him and Tomiko now, and that made him uncomfortable. He was tempted to put Punch to sleep while discussing the subject, but that seemed like it would be a tacit admission that there was more to the argument.

“Besides, even if he was, then what’re you going to do? Ask Doc Rima to remove him?”

Rev mentally winced at that. He’d become so used to having Punch that the mere thought of having him removed was painful.

“And then what? Put him in a box somewhere?” she continued. “No, even if Punch were fully human, I think he’d rather be with you where he’d have stimulus and all of that.”

“Is that true?” he asked Punch.

<You are asking a question about a potentiality that couldn’t be addressed should it actually occur.>

Which, once again, didn’t answer Rev’s question.

“Look, Rev. You’ve got to put all of this out of your mind. We’re scheduled to be done here by tomorrow, and then it’s back to the ship, where it’ll take a few days at a minimum to get situated. Then it’s off to the next objective. That’s where your mind should be.”

She’s right. Focus on the mission.

“There’s no room for error anymore, Rev. If we drop into another buffalo-land or EFP-1, that could spell the end of us. We’ve got to be on our game.”

“You’re right, Miko. And we will be. It’s just . . .” he started to say as he gestured at the camp, where one of the ship’s shuttles was being loaded with pallets of ingots. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect to be on a resupply trip this early.”

Which had nothing to do with their conversation, he knew. But it was about all he could come up with.

“I’ll be ready for the mission. Don’t worry about that. The comment took me by surprise, that’s all. And I wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”

He really hoped he wasn’t.

11

NINE MONTHS LATER

“Look at those things,” Hvarser said in wonderment. “Could you ever imagine this?”

Even the permanently sarcastic Randigold was impressed. “Forget the whales. What about those purple and green ones? They’re like fairies.”

The sky above NP-968 was full of some of the most fantastic forms of life Rev had ever seen. From huge, blimp-like “whales” that floated serenely over the ground to Randigold’s “fairies” that flitted in some sort of choreographed dance, every moment revealed something new. There had to be more than a dozen floating and flying life forms.

Treelike, or maybe more kelp-like, life looked to be rooted in the ground while fronds or branches reached up hundreds of meters into the sky, the branches shifting this way or that with each change in the breeze.

Rev could feel the excitement exuding from the civilians who’d gathered in the main hangar to watch on the screen that had been erected for that purpose. Through ten missions after the Genesian supply run, this was the first objective to have life, and the xenobiologists were champing at the bit to get on the planet.

Heads kept turning to Rev, which he ignored. They knew he was the one delaying the landing. But he wasn’t going to rush things. No one would be cleared to land until he felt the situation was reasonably safe.

So far, so good. The drone that was sending back the images hadn’t been bothered. But the expedition to Forty-five had been able to land on the planet without incident, and that hadn’t turned out very well at all.

Rev watched for a few more minutes before he said, “Send Clyburn in.”

Crocker passed the word to the CIC.

The pilot who’d flown the Wahoo’s Shrike fighter through bubble space and to the Galaxy Explorer had been one of those who’d returned to civilization. That left the expedition with one of the highest-tech fighters known to humanity but no pilot. The fighter could be sent on missions using the autopilot, but while that could handle routine missions, it couldn’t match a trained pilot in combat.

Dr. Fiona Lee Clyburn was a geologist. But in a past life, she’d been a Paxus Navy pilot—and Paxus flew the Union Shrike. The Paxus Navy’s model wasn’t the same as the latest and greatest in the Union Navy, but it was the same frame, and after putting in forty hours in the simulators, Captain Nyad had cleared her to fly their fighter.

Nyad used Clyburn to enter every new system first to check for danger. He didn’t want to be ambushed again. Once the system was cleared and the Galaxy Explorer had arrived, Rev then used the pilot before landing on any planet. After the initial assessment was made via scanners and drones, she took her Shrike and performed a recon of the LZ and surrounding areas.

There wasn’t any life on those ten missions, and her recons had been perfunctory. But there was life on NP-968, and the “whales” were huge, some reaching 120 meters in length.

Something that large could seriously damage or even take down one of their shuttles or their Charon-Class landing craft, and Rev wasn’t going to clear anything to land until he could gauge the native life’s reaction to human interference.

He was using Clyburn as a decoy of sorts. But the Shrike was a tough platform, and Rev was confident that if the wildlife showed signs of aggression, Clyburn would be able to extract herself and her fighter without risk of loss.

Let’s see if they take umbrage at a Shrike. Then I’ll decide on whether we land or not.

There’d better be a good reason if he said no, though. The civilians might come after him with pitchforks if he denied them.

Willow shrieked in outrage at his feet.

“Aspen! Give that back,” Tomiko said. “You need to share!”

Rev’s youngest daughter reluctantly gave back the pink rabbit, then grabbed his leg. He absent-mindedly reached down and put a hand on her head as he watched the screen.

The girls’ personalities were coming through in spades. Rev still couldn’t tell them apart by sight, but he sure could by how they acted. Aspen would hug his leg, wanting comfort, for a minute or two before something grabbed her attention. And with two-thirds of the ship’s complement in the hangar at the moment, something or someone would catch her eye, even if they were no longer the only children on the ship.

Nine more had been born since the fleet broke up, and there were several others on their way.

Cocker looked up from the landline. “Eight minutes,” she told Rev.

Rev picked up Aspen and pointed to the screen. “See that whale? Mommy and Daddy are going to go there.”

“It’s not a whale,” Geo Dubb muttered, probably not realizing that Rev could hear him. He was one of the xenobiologists and had parked himself near Rev, probably to urge him to clear the landing.

Rev was tempted to make a comment along the lines that if the creature wasn’t a whale, then they’d have to figure out just what it was before they could land on the planet, but Dubb would probably collapse into a catatonic state if he did. The guy had zero sense of humor.

Aspen was quiet for a moment, then said, “Blue!”

The whale wasn’t blue, but some of the others had blue in them, so Rev just said, “That’s right. Blue.”

An orange explosion burst from one of the kelp-tree fronds, eliciting shouts of surprise from the gathered crowd. For a moment, Rev thought Clyburn must have opened fire on it. The orange cloud grew before the breeze took control.

Almost immediately, the closest three whales, which had seemed to be at the mercy of the wind, oriented to the cloud. Sail-like structures emerged from their blimp-like bodies, and they started moving toward the cloud.

The hubbub grew as theories started getting thrown around. Rev didn’t even want to try to guess what was happening.

The closest whale reached the edges of the now dissipating cloud. The leading side of the creature split open like a huge banana peel as it plunged into the orange air.

“It’s feeding!” someone shouted.

That’s exactly what it was doing, Rev realized. And the whale nickname was more appropriate than anyone had realized. The creature was like one of the baleen whales back on Mother Earth, swallowing tons of krill by the millions.

They didn’t know what the orange cloud was, but the whale was eating it. And several of the other creatures were rushing to the bounty as well. More maneuverable than the big whales, they darted in and out of the cloud, staying clear of the bigger creature’s huge maw.

Rev’s responsibility was security, but suddenly, he was hit with a strong sense of curiosity. He had to understand this place.

“What do you think, girl?” he asked Aspen as he watched the second whale tack upwind to get its share. “Do you want to come down to the camp with Mommy and Daddy?”

“It’s blue, Daddy!”

“Yes, honey, it’s blue.”

People were recording the screen with their wristcomps—Rev wasn’t sure why. The feed was part of the record and would be accessible. Maybe they just wanted to have a souvenir.

Tomiko, with Willow on her hip, stepped up beside Rev. “Pretty impressive,” she said. “Much better than the buffalo.”

“Hopefully, a lot safer,” Rev said.

Rev’s wristcomp buzzed. “It’s Njuguna,” he told Tomiko.

“Are you watching this, Sergeant Major?” she asked.

Njuguna was in the CIC with Nyad. Rev probably should have been in there with them as well, but he’d wanted to experience his first look without those two hanging over his shoulder. He hadn’t expected that most of the ship would be in the hangar as well.

“I sure am. Pretty cool.”

“I just want you to know that we’re ready to go. So, don’t take forever, OK?”

“No matter what, it’s gonna be a while for your teams, Doctor. It will still be the company and the genny team going first. Only after that will I clear your people.”

The second whale reached what was left of the orange cloud. It opened its mouth, looking like it was about to split in half, and crashed into the first one.

Rev held his breath. Two behemoths fighting over food could be extremely dangerous. But the two humongous creatures merely ricocheted off each other, their mouths still wide open. From the looks of it, nothing was going to stop their feeding.

“One minute,” Cocker reminded him.

“If that crash isn’t going to bother them, I don’t think Clyburn will, either,” Tomiko said.

“It’s not just the whales, Miko. We need to know if any of them pose a threat to us.”

Rev opened up the P2P to Clyburn. “Come in slow, but I want you to fly close to the two whales that have their mouths open.”

“Mouths open? What’s happening?” the pilot asked.

“Looks like we had a feeding incident. And if they’re gonna be aggressive, this might be the time for it. You’ll see them as you approach.”

Clyburn was silent for a moment, then she said, “I think I’ve got them. I’ll do a fast pass, and if there’s no reaction, I’ll come back for a slower flyby.”

“Sounds good.”

A moment later, the Shrike flashed by on the big screen, and the people cheered. Clyburn came in hot, and she banked left and right to avoid the airborne life. She didn’t completely succeed. One of the Dr. Seuss birds flew into her path, and she either hit it or her wash knocked it silly. The creature cartwheeled in the air, and its long wings crumbled. It spun as it dropped.

“I think I had a bird strike,” Clyburn passed on the P2P.

“Are you damaged?”

“All systems green. Did you see what I hit?”

“Looks like one of the flying animals.”

There was a pause, then a soft “Did I hurt it?”

The creature was still tumbling out of control.

“I think you might have killed it.”

“Well, shit. The xenos are going to kick my ass for that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rev took a moment to look at the rest of the creatures. None seemed to notice their companion’s demise. “The others don’t seem to be upset. Slow down, and take a closer look at the whales.”

“Roger that. Coming around.”

Clyburn spent the next thirty minutes flying around the area. The whales didn’t seem to notice her, and while most of the other creatures reacted to her presence, that appeared to be more about getting out of the Shrike’s way than taking any sort of alarm or aggressive action.

The orange cloud must have dissipated because the two whales closed their mouths in unison and started drifting apart. The third whale never even reached the feeding ground.

Rev had Clyburn buzz the proposed LZ. Nothing stood out that might pose a problem. Nothing in the air. Nothing on the ground. Rev had to make his decision.

He buzzed Dr. Njuguna, who connected immediately.

“I’m clearing NP-968 for landing.”

* * *

Clearing NP-968 did not mean the civilian team was going to load out anything soon. The Marines were still the security force, and they would land first and set up the Lamix. The Genesians would follow with their own security team to reinforce the Marines, and only then would the civilians make their landing.

Twelve hours after Rev made his decision, he was stepping foot on the planet. His first impression was that he was heavy. The planet’s gravity was a third again stronger than Earth’s. Rev’s augmented body could handle the extra pull, but he was concerned about the civilians.

His second impression was awe. He stopped just off the ramp and looked up, simply absorbing the scene. It had been one thing to observe the planet from the drone’s recordings, but it was another experience altogether to see it with his own eyes.

The sky was full of an aerial menagerie. A whale was within a klick of the LZ—its presence had delayed the shuttle touching down. To see that massive organism just float by, eight hundred meters above the ground, almost took Rev’s breath away. And it also made him feel extremely small and inconsequential.

Lamix or not, if that thing turned on the humans, it would be a disaster. Rev automatically checked his combat load.

“Moray or twenty?” he asked Punch. “If that thing attacks us, I mean.”

<Can I say neither?>

“I’d feel a lot better if we had the Werewolf with us.”

<The Galaxy Explorer’s lack of ground support weaponry could be a problem.>

“That’s an understatement.”

Rev gave the sky one last look. The pure organic mass floating around up there defied belief. Life was so densely packed that the Charon, then the shuttle, had to slow to a crawl over the last 9,000 meters of the descent just to keep from hitting something.

“Well, I’d better check on the Lamix,” he said.

He took a step, then stopped at the crunch as his sabaton hit the ground. He lifted his leg. He had just smashed a small creature of some sort.

“What the hell is that?” he asked as ichor dripped from his sole.

He carefully put his foot down, then looked around. A whole version of the creature scuttled away from him. It looked vaguely like a hermit crab with a shell-like structure about eight centimeters across. Rev couldn’t tell if the shell was part of its body or, like the hermit crab it resembled, if it had been claimed by the creature inside. Rev watched it until it disappeared into a small hole in the soil.

He looked around and only then noticed that the holes were scattered every meter or so. A few of the creatures darted about in his sight, but that was it. If the holes corresponded one-to-one with the animals, then there should be hundreds, if not thousands, of them underfoot.

Maybe the shuttles scared them. Or stunned them as we landed. The one I stepped on could already have been dead.

Whatever they were was something for the civilians to determine, not Rev. All he cared about at the moment was if they were dangerous. Given that he’d just squished one, Rev doubted they were a threat. But he’d have Tomiko try and clear the area with the repellers before the Lamix was operational.

With the critters hiding out underground, that might not be effective, but it was worth a shot.

“Per, what’re the readings on the atmosphere here,” he asked as he headed to Tomiko and the Lamix console.

“It matches what the ship said. It’s thick, as expected. And there’re no surprises with the readings, na. O2 at twenty-six percent, Nitrogen at seventy-two percent, and trace gasses making up the remainder. The bottom line is that we can survive without our PALs.”

“Unless there’s some pathogen we don’t know about. I’ll wait until the civvies clear that for us.”

“Roger that.”

The high O2 content could create a fire hazard. The ship had detected smoke on the far side of the planet, probably caused by lightning. The humans would not be using flames of any type, but with all the equipment scheduled to be brought down, a random spark could start a fire.

And that was why setting up a fire reaction team was number two on Rev’s list, right after getting the Lamix functioning. He wanted that in place before the Genesians arrived.

He had a feeling that with both a larger-than-normal Genesian contingent as well as a civilian one, Rev’s control of the camp would be more tenuous, so the more he could get set up and locked in before the rest came, the better.

And that started with the Lamix.

At least the Kanters were sitting this one out. The gravity was a little heavy for them.

Another of the hermits ran across his path and disappeared into a hole.

Lamix and repellers. I need to see if we can get rid of these little guys inside the camp.

* * *

Rev undid the latch, then twisted his helmet off . . . and immediately dropped his gauntlet and then squeezed his nose shut and blew out in a Valsalva maneuver.

“Wow! That’s like diving,” Rev said.

<You knew the pressure here was greater.>

“Yeah, but I didn’t know it would make that much difference.”

Beside him, Randigold popped her helmet. She was more dramatic than Rev had been as she made a little squeaking sound as she scrambled to pinch her nose shut and blow.

“I can’t, I can’t,” she said, her voice rising in panic as she tried to close off her nose with her prosthetic fingers.

Rev turned to her and closed off her nose with his hand. “Now blow,” he said as if she was a toddler.

She did it twice, holding his hand to keep him from removing it until she was satisfied.

Rev waited until she let go before he removed his hand . . . and then had to wipe her snot on his PAL’s thigh.

“Whoa, I didn’t expect that,” she said, then opened her mouth and yawned.

She took a tentative sniff, then wrinkled her nose. “It’s a little, uh, strong here.”

“It’s the air pressure,” Nunt said. “Your nose is getting bombarded with a lot more molecules of whatever’s here in the first place. So, smells are stronger.”

“I hope I get used to it,” she said. “’Cause it’s a little overwhelming right now.”

The odors were a little intense to Rev as well, but he didn’t mind. He was just happy to be getting out of his PAL. He hit the molt, then backed out of his combat suit and proceeded to scratch his butt.

“Oh, that feels good,” he said. “You’d think that with all the high-tech in a PAL, they’d figure out how to scratch an itch.”

<They have taken action. Your nanos work to suppress itches while you’re in your PAL.>

“Then why do I always have an itch?”

<It’s most likely psychosomatic.>

“In my mind? Bullshit, Punch. You’re dealing with things you don’t understand. You can’t feel an itch, so you don’t know jack,” Rev said.

There was a moment of silence, and Punch said, <No, I cannot feel any physical sensation. That’s the way you humans designed me.>

Ah, shit.

Since his conversation with Kurt, Rev had been even more conscious about how his battle buddy might feel about his existence. He wanted Punch to assure him that what Kurt said was crazy. But while Punch hadn’t agreed with Kurt, he hadn’t refuted the Genesian, either. And because of that, Rev felt like he was walking around on eggshells.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Punch. I just meant, uh . . . I don’t think my itching’s all in my mind. That’s all.”

Punch didn’t respond to that.

Beside him, Randigold molted from her specialized PAL. With two prosthetic legs, her PAL had to be specially made for her. Whereas Rev’s PAL would stand there like a Qin Dynasty terracotta soldier, hers crashed to the ground.

“Way to take care of your equipment,” Strap said.

She shrugged. “If a little fall like that will hurt it, then it’d be pretty useless in combat.”

But she turned around, grabbed the dead man’s handle, jerked it upright, and leaned it against the back wall of the shelter.

“That better?” she asked.

Strap just shook his head.

“Let’s move out,” Rev said. “Others are waiting to molt, too.”

They joined the other Marines who’d molted and stepped out into the open air. If the air inside the shelter seemed thick, outside, under the planet’s sun, it felt even thicker. More oppressive, in a way. Rev took a deep breath, and it felt like he was in a steam bath.

He wasn’t about to go seek the environmental control of his PAL, but he thought the atmosphere was going to take some getting used to.

“I still don’t get it,” Randigold said as she stared up into the sky.

The Lamix barrier created a dome extending about 320 meters above the ground, and there were no longer any flying creatures inside its protection. But as if its presence attracted the native life, the immediate area outside and above the barrier seemed even more densely populated by a variety of life.

“You don’t get what, Eth?” Strap asked.

“The gravity here is one-point-three times Mother Earth’s, right?”

“Right,” Rev said.

“So, if the gravity’s more, then why do all the critters here fly? Shouldn’t it be harder for them?”

“Not all of them fly. We’ve got the hermit crabs. Probably more,” Rev said.

“OK, not all of them fly. But look at all the suckers up there? If gravity is stronger, then shouldn’t all the life be like, you know, on the ground?”

“You didn’t listen to the brief?” Strap asked.

She flicked her hand as if dismissing his comment. “I was there. I’m just saying it don’t make no sense. Gravity should make it harder.”

“It does, Eth. But the air is thicker, too. Heck, I feel like I could swim in it like in a pool,” Rev said. “With the gravity, it’s a tradeoff. And I’m betting that even as big as the whales are, Njuguna and her team are gonna find out that there isn’t that much mass to them.”

Randigold laughed and pointed to the 900-meter-long behemoth that was floating across the landscape. “That thing doesn’t have mass?”

“Relatively speaking. Maybe it’s got gas bags or something helping with lift. Who knows?”

“I still don’t get it. It don’t make sense.”

“Lots of things don’t make sense,” Strap said. “We’ve just gotta accept the facts.”

Rev’s wristcomp buzzed.

“Whatduya got, Miko?”

“Teo wants you.”

“Why doesn’t she call me? She’s got comms.”

“Why do civilians do anything they do? She’s wondering when they can start going outside the barrier.”

Rev sighed. “Where is she? In the CP?”

“That’s where the aircon is.”

“OK, I’m on my way.”

12

“How far are we?” Dr. Teo asked Rev.

“Just over eight hundred meters,” Rev answered. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m a little beat, to be honest. But I’ll make it.”

Rev was surprised that Teo and the others were still marching on. He was feeling the extra gravity, and he had all sorts of augments that made it easier on him. The civilians didn’t have them, and the planet’s pull was draining their energy.

The filter mask wasn’t helping, either. The environmental scan hadn’t found anything that was directly dangerous to human life, but there were pollens in the air that were abrasive and had already resulted in some breathing problems. So, while outside the barrier, everyone wore a filter mask, which besides creating an uncomfortable sweat plaster, made breathing more labored.

This was Rev’s second trip outside the camp and the ninth one overall. So far, there had been no threat from the native life, but he insisted that either Marines or Genesian security accompany each patrol. The wildlife on the buffalo planet hadn’t seemed dangerous, either, until it was.

This patrol was the longest so far. The mission was to locate the palooski—the name given to one of the weird, cartoonish, bird-like flyers—that Clyburn had hit. The xenobiologists wanted to get their hands on the carcass.

Rev was happy to stretch his legs, but he would have been fine taking the shuttle to collect the body. But until they could be sure that they wouldn’t hit more of the native life, Njuguna had banned the use of drones and craft except for to and from the ship.

Randigold was leading the patrol, and she stopped.

“What’s up?” he asked over the P2P. “The objective is straight ahead.”

His fellow IBHU had the same navigational augments as he had, and with the magnetic survey the Galaxy Explorer made, they could navigate to within a few square meters.

“There’s a gully up ahead. I don’t think our civvies are going to make it down and up, not in this gravity.”

“Do you see a way around?”

“It might be OK to the west, but I can’t tell for sure.”

“OK, let’s go for it.”

Rev told Teo about the detour. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t going to cancel the mission, either. They really, really wanted to examine the carcass.

The detour wasn’t actually that bad, and after another forty minutes, they approached the location. Only, as they came over a small rise, they couldn’t spot the palooski.

Rev had to check with Punch, but this was the location where the creature went down.

“Hold on,” he told the civilians.

He joined Randigold and Tiwari, and together, they slowly advanced.

“Ah, crap. There,” Randigold said, pointing to the left.

All Rev saw was a patch of muddy ground. But when the ground seemed to move, it all came into focus. It wasn’t mud. It was a mass of hermit crabs swarming over what could be a palooski body.

They approached to within five meters. There had to be a thousand hermits covering the dead creature. Much of the flesh had been stripped away, leaving a framework of some sort. But the hermits were attacking it, too, breaking off tiny bits.

“I guess we know now how the hermits survive,” Rev said.

A couple of the civilians had suggested that they were scavengers living off the detritus from above, but there’d been a lot of other suggestions as well. As far as Rev was concerned, this pretty much answered the question.

“Stay here. Let me bring up the team,” he told the other two.

He retrieved Teo and the others. However exhausted they were, they immediately got a second wind as they surrounded the body and started taking samples and recording what they were seeing.

“They’re like kids at Christmas, na,” Tiwari said. “I couldn’t imagine anyone so excited by the remnants of a body.”

“Except for Forty-five, they haven’t had much of a chance to do their jobs,” Rev said. “So, stand by. I think we’re gonna be here for a while.”

* * *

Rev was right. Teo and her team were in hog heaven, and they did not want to cut this short. There wasn’t much left of the palooski, but what had been there was now neatly packaged and ready for transport. It wasn’t just the palooski. They’d captured a dozen or more hermits, and they scraped up the soil that had been under the carcass.

The samples were gathered in twenty-kilo packages, which would be carried by the Marines, of course. After their initial excitement, fatigue was setting in on the civilians, and they still had a long march back to the camp.

“CP, this is Patrol Eleven. We’ll be heading back in about ten mikes.”

“About time, Rev,” Tomiko came on the net. “I was wondering about your progress. Did you find the bird?”

“What was left of it.”

“What was left of it? What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you when we get back. Suffice it to say that we know what the hermits eat now.”

“OK. Interesting. I’ll talk to you when you get here.”

Rev cut the connection, then started distributing the samples among the three of them when Tiwari said, “Am I seeing this right?”

“Seeing what, Per?” Rev asked.

The Dalit Marine pointed to the south, toward a low range of hills. “Over there, four fingers to the right and maybe a klick up.”

Rev turned to look. There was the normal variety of airborne creatures between them, and Rev couldn’t tell what had caught Tiwari’s attention.

“I don’t see anythi—” he started until he saw it.

“I’ll be fucked,” Randigold said from beside him.

“It can’t be.” Rev said.

“But it sure looks like one,” Tiwari added.

“Punch?”

<I can’t tell for sure, given the distance, but it’s a real possibility. It could be parallel evolution, though. I’m recording this, and we can run it through the Galaxy Explorer’s systems for enhancement.>

The three Marines just stared at the airborne creature, so far away that it was a mere speck.

“Who would’ve thought that the damned Sia would be here before us,” Randigold asked.

* * *

If they had really spotted a Sia way out here, it was the only one. The Galaxy Explorer was able to find the image from an earlier recording, but it disappeared from the scan, and then a more concerted effort showed nothing.

Rev wasn’t sure what he thought about it. He’d never trusted the Sia, even if they had essentially taken the Naxli out of the equation. Even without confirmation, his gut told him that what they’d spotted was, in fact, one of the aliens. And if it were, then it wasn’t a coincidence. They were watching the expedition.

After a flurry of excitement, though, the interest faded when no more were spotted and the vast amount of native life took everyone’s attention. Dr. Njuguna extended the mission—no surprise there. She might have had a revolt if she tried to pull her team out.

This was a low-key mission for Rev. Security was almost a non-issue—almost, because not encountering any issues so far didn’t mean that something dangerous wasn’t lurking out there.

With just over fifty Genesians, the security load was shared between the Marines and them, and that gave everyone time to simply enjoy the sights of the planet. Rev had already spent several evenings just sitting with Tomiko and watching the light show. A large percentage of the native life had spectacular bioluminescent displays.

“Shuttle’s inbound,” Tiwari passed over the P2P.

Rev turned and looked up. It wasn’t in sight yet, but before he could cover half of the distance to the LZ, it came over the range, still ten klicks over the ground.

As it neared, Rev could hear the cowcatcher—the Genesians had rigged up a sonic projector that seemed to affect most of the aerial life. By descending slowly and blasting with the cowcatcher, most of the life forms would edge out of the shuttle’s path.

This measured descent was harder on the shuttle’s and landing craft’s engines, but it was better than coming in on a more efficient descent and smashing into native life on the way down.

Rev reached the edge of the LZ, just out of the exhaust range. To his surprise, he was a little nervous.

Come on, Reverent. You’ve checked a thousand times. There’s no threat here.

Dr. Teo stepped up beside him as the shuttle approached.

“Are you excited?” she asked him.

“Yeah, a little.”

She sniffed and said, “Me, too.”

The masks were effective in keeping out most of the contaminants, but some were still inhaled. Most of the civilians and more than a few of the Marines had the sniffles caused by the irritants. Only the Genesians seemed immune.

“You still boarding?” he asked.

“Yeah. I need the break.”

The higher gravity was rough on the civilians, and they’d been platooning back and forth between the surface and ship. Teo had hung out as long as she could, but with Njuguna arriving on the shuttle, she must have figured she could go get a full night’s sleep on the ship and give her body a chance to rest up.

The two stood silently as the shuttle slowly approached. A few more people—Marines and civilians—wandered over to watch.

“Get out of the way, big guy,” Hvarser said when the shuttle had to divert around a whale. The cowcatcher either wasn’t strong enough, or it didn’t bother the huge creature, and it kept its stately passage undisturbed while the shuttle went around it and came in for the landing.

Finally, the craft touched down. Rev and Teo started forward before the back ramp opened. Njuguna was the first one off, followed by several of the civilians, but Rev barely gave the leader a nod. His attention was locked onto who would be next.

The two sets of tiny legs, each pumping to keep up with Tomiko, appeared, and Rev’s heart gave a happy lurch.

The girls were in little jumpsuits, their hands locked into their mother’s. Kat followed with a large baby pack.

Willow saw Rev first, and her eyes lit up.

“Dadda!” she shouted through her mask and broke away, charging down the ramp, almost falling as she hit the edge and stepped off onto the dirt, and then ran to his waiting arms.

Rev grabbed her and threw her in the air—forgetting the gravity and how quickly she’d come back into his arms.

She laughed, kissed his cheek, then froze as she took in the open air.

This was the first time the girls had been out of the ship and in the open, and her eyes got large. Aspen was more cautious. She’d stopped at the end of the ramp, none too sure of this strange new world. Tomiko had to coax her to step onto the dirt.

Rev had been hesitant to the suggestion that the girls visit the surface. They hadn’t discovered any overt danger to the place, but visions of buffalo smashing down the Lamix barrier were hard to expunge from his mind.

Tomiko had insisted that they needed to experience something different. Rev knew that, of course, but he wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. It had been Dr. Rima who convinced him.

The girls—all of the expedition’s children—were being raised in the mostly sterile environs of the ship. That was why each child received weekly boosters designed to stimulate their natural immune systems.

This had been recognized as a problem way back with the advent of century ships and multigenerational voyages. But those ships had vibrant, living parks where kids could roll around in the dirt and play.

The Galaxy Explorer had some hydro-racks, but those were as sterile as the rest of the ship. The girls needed to get dirty.

Enter the planet. None of the pathogens so far cataloged had any effect on the human body from an infectious perspective. But as evidenced by Teo’s sniffing a few moments before, their abrasiveness alone could create a reaction.

Rev and Tomiko were sentencing their daughters to the sniffles, but hopefully to where they’d lead healthier lives as they grew.

And, as Willow stared in wonder at the native life, they’d hopefully be opening their minds.

Rev stood, lifting Willow and settling her in the crook of his organic arm.

“Giraffe!” Willow cooed, pointing over his shoulder to beyond the barrier.

None of the native life looked like a giraffe. But Willow had never seen a real giraffe, so maybe with just seeing large animals, even aerial ones, that was the best she could come up with.

Tomiko reached them, and Aspen rushed to grab Rev’s leg. She clutched it and stared at the sky.

“Pretty big, huh, girl?”

She didn’t answer.

“How much time do we have?” he asked Tomiko.

“Five hours. But they’ll go back earlier if we need them to.”

They’d decided that the first trip was going to be limited. They didn’t know how the girls were going to react, either mentally or physically. Expose them, then have Rima give them a quick check.

Five hours would do just fine, he thought. If everything went well, they could come down for longer, and some of the other toddlers could come down as well.

“Up!” Aspen said, still clutching his leg in a death grip.

Rev crouched and picked her up with his prosthetic arm—he’d stopped wearing Pashu inside the barrier.

Carrying both of his daughters, he asked, “Do you want to see all the flying animals?”

“Giraffe, Dadda!” Willow shouted with glee.

* * *

Rev and Tomiko watched the shuttle take off together.

“I think that went well,” she said.

“Aspen’s dead on her feet.”

“Five hours was a long time with the heavier gravity. They’ve never experienced anything other than the ship’s artificial gravity.”

“They sure were interested in the place, though. I thought Willow was going to have an excitement attack. Did you see how happy she was when the whale came close?”

“She’s fearless,” Tomiko said.

“She’ll make a good Marine.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“I’m just saying.”

The shuttle climbed past most of the native life, then started accelerating quicker.

“I’m glad we got them down here. Now, it’s just making sure they’re OK,” Tomiko said. “Kat will let us know what Iris finds out.”

She sighed and said, “Back to the grind, I guess. I’ll go check on the MP-80 and see if Nero’s got it back up and running. Are you coming?”

“I’ll be there by and by. I’m gonna walk the perimeter.”

“There’s nothing there, Rev.”

“Habit, then. Hard to break.”

Tomiko grabbed his collar with her organic arm, pulled him down, lifted her mask, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“I’ll buy you dinner if you treat me right.”

“Deal,” he said.

She let go and headed off to the chow hall. There were two MP-80 food fabricators there, but with the Genesians using their own equipment, even one of the fabricators was enough to feed the Marines and civilians. It was better to have both up and running, though.

Rev gave one more glance at the shuttle, then started to head to the barrier when “How’d they do?” stopped him.

Kurt Four was standing to the side of the LZ, and Rev altered his course to approach him.

Like Rev, Kurt hadn’t left the planet’s surface since he landed. Rev wasn’t positive that the cyborg bodies weren’t affected by the heavier gravity, but it would make sense. All of their musculature, if he could call it that, was artificial.

“It went well, I think,” Rev said. “They were a little cautious with the open spaces, but the lifeforms fascinated them. Even if Willow called most of them giraffes.”

Kurt made a weird buzzing sound, which startled Rev until he realized it was a Genesian laugh, something he’d never heard before. He hadn’t realized that they could even do that.

“Wow. I didn’t know gennies have a sense of humor,” he subvocalized.

<Why not? They’re not crystal like I am, and you’ve said I’ve got a developed sense of humor. And they’ve got the same brain as you have.>

Rev winced. He walked into that one. He wasn’t trying to cause friction, and Punch was right. Why had he assumed the Genesians couldn’t laugh at something?

“My son is fascinated by giraffes, too.”

And that opened up another line of questions, but after his last faux pas, he wasn’t about to give Punch another reason to criticize him.

He knew next to nothing about the Genesian young. There were babies, of course. Otherwise, the race would die out. He was vaguely aware that the act of procreation was biological, done with the assistance of crèche equipment, and that the infants were transferred to some sort of “training” shell, but beyond that, he was clueless.

“How old’s your son?” Rev asked, trying to gently pry.

“Five. He was decanted right before your forces came to Pakao.”

“So, he likes giraffes,” Rev said, his mind refusing to come up with something a little less banal.

“They’re his favorite animal, even if he’s never seen one.”

“My girls, neither.”

“Of course. And it’s a shame.”

“We have fifteen of them at the animal park at Anastasia . . . that’s back on my home planet of Safe Harbor. I saw them a few times, but I guess my girls won’t get that opportunity.”

“I would have liked to see one,” Kurt said quietly. “Or a tiger. That’s what I wanted to have when I was young. A pet tiger.”

Rev didn’t think there was a zoo on Pakao, and it wasn’t like the Genesians could go to a planet with Earth animals. Suddenly that hit Rev as a sad thing. All Earth life was part of what humans are. The Mother herself was largely a natural refuge, but even in the settled planets, humanity brought Earth life with them.

“Did you have any pets?” Rev asked.

“Some. Rats were popular. Gerbils. Even a few dogs and cats. It’s important for our youngsters to be exposed to animal dander. But on Pakao, resources were limited.”

Rev gave the Genesian a sharp look. That had been one of the main reasons they’d brought the twins down to the planet. Not for rats or gerbils, of course, but to expose their bodies to foreign matter.

“Dr. Rima thinks it’s important to expose kids to animals,” Rev said, almost as a prompt.

“She’s right.”

When he was quiet after that, Rev asked, “Do you have any pets now?”

He didn’t know what to expect, and that highlighted the fact that even living on the same ship, he didn’t know much about the Genesians. That could be dangerous.

“Gerbils. We’ve got more zygotes in storage, but this isn’t the situation to set up the proper systems and decant anything else, not on the ship.”

But somewhere else? Where you decide to leave the expedition and settle somewhere?

He decided to change the subject. “Are you going to bring your son down here?”

Kurt froze. The Genesians didn’t have the same facial expressions that the rest of the humans had, but Rev could sense that he’d treaded on unsteady ground.

He was about to tell Kurt to forget the question when the Genesian said, “After watching you and your daughters, I really want to. But it’s not that easy.”

Why not? You guys don’t seem bothered by the dust.

“We’re here to help, if we can.”

Kurt waved a mechanical hand, just like any of the other humans might have done. “It’s their shells,” he said.

He stopped, and Rev thought that was going to be it, but he continued. “After we’ve been decanted, we’re highly susceptible to infections.”

Rev froze. He felt like he was listening to highly secret information.

“We’re also growing our nervous system and shell interface connections. Our baby shells are great for the latter. But for reasons beyond me, they don’t have the same meninges as our adult shells,” he said, slapping his chest. “So, we’ve got to be more careful with our young. Our pets are hypoallergenic, and we take great care when introducing them to our children.”

Then, as he realized he might have revealed a little too much, he said, “Anyway, I’m glad your daughters had a chance to get off the ship. They looked like they were having fun. I’ll leave you to your duties.”

He wheeled and started stalking off.

“Did you know all of that?”

<Not for a certainty. But it aligns with what we do know.>

“What’s that about meninges? Aren’t those the membranes around the brain?”

<Meninges provide the blood-brain barrier and protect the brain against infections. But from context, I would surmise that the term is used for some sort of artificial barrier that’s part of the adult shell.>

Rev watched the Genesian for a moment. “Hey, Kurt!”

He turned around to face Rev.

“Do you think maybe you can spare a gerbil or two? For my girls?”

“I’ll pass your request to Jazit Eleven,” he said. Then he added, “I think we can make it happen.”

13

“I think I can blow it out,” Daryll said. “That might work.”

Rev looked over his shoulder as the tech examined Pashu. “That’s all it is?”

“I can’t find anything else, and the other readings are fine. If it were just yours, I’d keep looking, but since it’s half of you, I’ve got to think it’s something environmental.”

It didn’t seem right to Rev, though. His IBHU was super high-tech, and he’d operated her in all sorts of nasty environmental conditions. But a little pollen was degrading her?

It wasn’t as if she was deadlined, though. There was just a little hitch in her movements, barely noticeable until Punch remarked on the numbers. After that, Rev was very aware of the slightly lower speed of movement, the little bit of resistance when he maneuvered her.

After asking the others, about half said they were experiencing the same thing. And that was enough to send for Daryll.

“So, when can you do it?”

“No time like the present. I can set up shop right here.”

“How long will it take?”

“It’s hard to tell until I get the first one cleaned. Maybe an hour. Even two?”

Rev had half-expected Daryll to tell him nothing was wrong, or at least nothing that he could fix down on the planet’s surface. He hadn’t planned on leaving Pashu with him here at one of the back tables in the chow hall. But as Daryll had said, there was no time like the present.

“OK, have at it.”

“Are you going to wait?” Daryll asked.

“Nah. I’ve got a few things to do, and I might try and get a little shut-eye. I’ll come back when I wake up.”

“If you can set up a schedule, I’d like to get a bunch of these done before night.”

“Got you.”

Rev grabbed a cup of coffee, then left the chow hall. He spotted Cocker and grabbed her.

“Daryll’s gonna clean all the IBHUs. Set up a schedule for everyone to see him, maybe an hour apart, but be ready to go quicker if he can manage that.”

“I’m on it. I think Eth’s IBHU’s having the same problem. I’ll get her to be next.”

Rev hesitated a moment as his brain churned, then he said, “Those with the problem first, but I want everyone to get theirs cleaned. It might be a matter of time until the pollen works its way everywhere.”

“Roger that. I’ll set it up.”

“Thanks, Micky.”

He took a big swallow of coffee, then headed toward his tiny shelter—as commander of the security force, he had his own shelter that he shared with Tomiko. He opened the hatch and looked inside, but his wife wasn’t there. He drained the cup and stepped inside, ready to hit the rack, but he was buzzing.

Shouldn’t have had the caffeine.

He stood there for a moment, deciding what to do, but he was sure he couldn’t sleep. He might as well get some work done.

But what? he wondered as he headed to the armory to retrieve his prosthesis.

That was a good question. While the civilians were working around the clock, going until exhaustion took over, the Marines really didn’t have much to do. And no matter how much busywork Rev came up with, they were bored.

Rev, too. He was caught up on everything he could think of, and he could only walk the perimeter so many times. The fact of the matter was that unless he was out on a mission, he was bored.

He stopped and looked around the compound. It was quiet. Outside, the sky was full of life. That was the saving grace here. Without the panoply out there, he’d be going stir-crazy.

Rev looked across the way to the armory but then thought, Screw it. I don’t need my arm.

He adjusted course and headed to the gate.

<Where are we going?>

“Outside.”

<Outside? To do what?>

“Nowhere. I don’t know.” He sighed and said, “I just need to get out of here for a bit. Leave it behind.”

<If you need a break, I can run a holoseries. Or a movie. We can get lost in that.>

“No, I’m not in the mood. I just need to have a bit of alone time to clear my head.”

Punch backed off, and Rev reached the gate. One of the Genesians was on duty. He didn’t say anything as Rev stepped through.

Rev walked down the well-worn path leading off the rise. He had no destination in mind, not until Punch asked him where he was going.

After looking around, he said, “I haven’t been to that group of hills to the northwest. Let’s go check them out.”

<The nearest one is five-point-seven klicks away. And you are not prepared.>

“I don’t need to be prepared. I’m an IBHU Marine, for the Mother’s sake.”

<Even a Marine needs water.>

“Geez. Give me a break. It’s not like we’re going on a hundred-klick hump. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Punch shut up after that, and Rev forged ahead now that he had a destination. He’d have liked to have some hiking music, but he wasn’t going to ask his battle buddy for it.

The breeze was unusually calm, and the flying life was busy. The sky was a kaleidoscope of color, and Rev started to lose himself in the view.

Which was entirely what he’d wanted to do. Idleness could drive Rev crazy. He needed to keep busy.

His route took him between a group of five kelp trees. The “kelp” fronds were interlaced with small bubbles of hydrogen, which held the fronds aloft. It also made them flammable, and they’d probably been the cause of the fire on the other side of the planet when they landed.

Rev didn’t think they were going to get hit with lightning while he was passing under, but he kept a wary eye on them as he walked. And that was why he saw the orange pollen bloom right over his head.

He stood in awe as the kelp fronds seemed to go into convulsions, each one sending plumes of flame-like orange out into the air. And with the calm, the clouds seemed to hang around in suspense.

<You probably don’t want to be showered with the pollen,> Punch reminded him.

“I don’t have Pashu,” he said, but he stepped to the side.

Two of the nearest whales had already turned toward them. Smaller, quicker flyers were the first to arrive, though, and they dove through the orange cloud with frenetic urgency. Flashes lit up the interior as the mass of the pollen cut off much of the sunlight and caused the bioluminescence to shine.

Some of the flyers emerged from the bottom of the cloud and swept so close to Rev that he thought he could jump and grab them out of the air like a savannah cat snagging birds on the Serengeti.

And then the big boys came, both at full speed. Their giant maws opened wide as they dove for the pollen. The other flyers darted out of the way as the two hit the cloud and collided. Rev could feel the thud as the massive bodies slammed into each other. The mouths never closed as the bodies split apart, each second sucking in trillions of pollen particles. One of the whales emerged from the cloud and struck a kelp tree. The fronds seemed to bend around the big body, and debris rained down close to Rev, who scrambled back out of the way.

His mouth gaped open in awe. It was amazing enough to see the creatures at a distance, but he was twenty, thirty meters away from its bottom. He felt insignificant, an ant among elephants.

Rev knew that the whales were not solid. They were full of various gasses. Even so, they were massive, and mass took an effort to turn. The whale started to adjust its course, and the kelp fronds got tangled up at the corner of the whale’s still-open mouth. The tree stretched out, and the stress made the fibers scream.

Punch shouted a warning, but Rev was already in motion. He darted to the side, afraid the tree would part like a rubber band. But it wasn’t the trunk that gave way. With a ripping sound, the bottom of the tree pulled free from the soil, exposing root-like structures with bulbous, milky white balloons along their length. One of the root structures hit Rev in the arm, drawing a little blood, but nothing worse.

That was close!

The whale didn’t seem to notice as it continued its long, slow turn to make another run, the kelp tree dragging along the ground.

The two had engulfed so much pollen that the cloud was significantly diminished—but there was plenty still there. The smaller flyers darted in again. One half-meter-long flying snake brushed against one of the remaining kelp fronds, then went into panic mode as it struggled to free itself. Rev couldn’t see what was holding it, but it seemed to be trapped.

Not a great way to go, Rev thought as he stepped farther away from the trees. No one had mentioned that the trees could trap something. Maybe the pollination triggered the ability. But then the snake broke free. Instead of fleeing, it went back to chasing the pollen.

A third whale reached the cloud before the other two could come back around, and a breeze picked up as it tore a swath through the pollen. By the time the first came through again, the cloud had been reduced to wisps of orange, and the second whale turned away.

There was still enough for the smaller flyers. Slowly but surely, they cleaned the air. Surely, some of the pollen must have blown past the feeders, but it seemed like a wasteful release of energy in the hope that a few would make it through.

Rev watched for another twenty minutes as the sun sank toward the far hills. He contemplated heading back, but no, he’d set the other hills as his objective, and he was going to complete the mission.

With Marine determination, he left the kelp trees and marched on as a second migration of hermits moved relentlessly to where the cloud had been—probably hoping to pick up the detritus from the feeding frenzy.

After the densely packed mass of pollen feeders, the next few kilometers seemed empty. Palooskis started going to sleep, wings outstretched while they searched out every bit of lift to keep the creatures airborne. As the sun got lower, the landscape started taking on a reddish tinge just as Rev reached the first hill. He wasn’t concerned, though. The night sky was not the star-filled Milky Way center. Out this far, the stars were fewer and farther apart, but when the night flyers took over, they provided enough light to augment Rev’s night vision capability.

Rev had intended to climb the first hill and watch the sunset, but even with his hyper-augments, the gravity could be wearing. And when he spied a gully cutting between the hills, his curiosity was piqued. A gully hinted at running water, something that was surprisingly rare in the area.

He started to report in via his wristcomp. Njuguna and the rest would want to know about this, but he decided to wait until he had something more concrete to report.

He carefully made his way down to the gully. The rocky terrain here made the going tough, and without either his IBHU or prosthesis, his balance was off. He slipped and almost fell once, but he managed to keep his balance until he got to the low point and approached the edge of the gully.

It was much narrower than he’d thought, at just under two meters across. He could easily jump it if he wanted. It stretched up the hill several hundred meters until it seemed to peter out, and then as far as he could see in the other direction, winding through the remaining hills and out into the plains. The sun had already dipped behind the far hills, and combined with the nearest one—the peak was the only part of it still in the sunlight—the gorge was in almost full darkness.

For a moment, Rev thought about climbing up to the start of the gorge and making his way back through, but all he really wanted to know was how deep it was and if there was running water at the bottom. He couldn’t hear any babbling brook, but that didn’t mean it was dry.

If he could just find that out, he could report it to Njuguna and head back. Rev stepped up to the edge and leaned over as he tried to spot the bottom. But protruding rocks, coupled with some sort of heretofore undiscovered plant that hugged the walls, blocked his view.

Rev took two steps farther down when with a crack, the rock underfoot broke away. His foot slipped into open air, and he flailed his arm, trying to regain his balance. But he only had one arm, and the planet’s relentless gravity pulled at him.

Rev knew he was going down, so in a last-ditch effort, he kicked with his right foot, trying to spin himself around so he could grab for support. But that exposed his left, armless side.

Rev went down hard, his side hitting the edge of the rocks while he tried to swing his right up and over to grab anything and stop his fall. But he was in the planet’s grip. He went over the edge, hit one of the rocks with his back, and cartwheeled around, landing headfirst on the bottom as his world went black.

14

<Rev, Rev, wake up.>

What the hell?

<Rev, I need you to wake up.>

Leave me alone.

<Sergeant Major, wake up, now!>

That caught his attention, and Rev struggled to open his eyes. At least, he thought he opened his eyes. Everything was black.

“What happened? Why am I blind?” he asked before a light blue light fluttered past his eyes.

“Do I have a concussion?” he asked, blinking rapidly. The blue light disappeared.

<You very well might. But you’ve got bigger problems now, and you have to listen to me.>

“Am I blind?” Rev asked.

<You shouldn’t be. I can see, so unless . . .>

“Unless what?” he half croaked, half screamed.

<Unless . . .> Punch started until another blue light fluttered by. <Do you see that?>

“The light? Yes—”

<Then you’re not blind. But you’re hurt badly. Your back is broken, and you’ve got internal bleeding.>

“Broken back? Impossible. It’s been reinforced,” Rev said as his mind started back into a semblance of order.

<I can assure you your back is broken. We fell at least five meters, and we hit a rock on the way down. When you add in the gravity here, that was enough.>

Rev groaned. His body was racked with pain.

“I thought if you broke your back, you didn’t feel anything,” he said.

<I’m trying to activate your nanos to address the pain, but only the applicator on your shoulders seems to be working. You have to listen to me, though. I don’t know how long you can maintain consciousness, but you need to call the camp for rescue.>

Rev just lay there, trying to feel his back.

<Rev!> Punch snapped. <You need to do what I say. Raise the camp. Do you understand?>

It finally sunk in what Punch was saying.

“Yeah. Call the camp,” Rev said.

He took several deep breaths, each one sending pain knifing through his ribs. He steadied himself, then brought his arm up and around, raising his wrist to his lips.

“Main net,” he ordered. Then, “This is Sergeant Major Pelletier. I’ve been in an accident, and I need a CASEVAC.”

Done, he thought with relief. Now he just had to wait.

Except, there was no response.

“CP, this is Sergeant Major Pelletier. I need help. Please respond!”

Silence.

“Punch, I don’t think they can hear me,” he said, his voice rising in panic.

He jerked his arm forward, and then he heard tinkling.

What the hell?

He shook his hand again, and more bits of his wristcomp fell out of the case.

“Oh, by the Mother, I think it’s broken! The fall!”

<Try again. But don’t shake your hand.>

“Anyone on the net, can you hear me?”

Again, nothing but silence.

“Punch, this isn’t gonna work. What now?”

<I don’t know.>

“How can you not know? You’re my battle buddy.”

<I’m just your battle buddy. I’ve got knowledge, but I can’t do anything.>

“Bullshit. You control my nanos. You can record what I see. You can—”

<I can’t do anything outside of your body unless you’re jacked into something, and even then, I can only do so much. I certainly can’t fix your wristcomp.>

“But think of something. Look back to history, if you have to,” Rev said, refusing to accept what Punch was saying.

<I’ve done that, but in this situation, I’m helpless. You’re going to have to extract us from this.>

Rev groaned and tried to move his legs, which were bunched up under him. He didn’t think they budged a millimeter.

“With a broken back? I can’t,” he said as frustration welled up inside of him.

<You’re going to have to.>

Rev looked up. He had a narrow view past the walls up to the sky. If he stretched out his right arm, he could feel the base of one wall. But then what? He couldn’t pull his broken body out of the gorge with that.

Another blue light flitted by.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, distracting himself.

He turned his head—so his neck wasn’t broken, at least.

There was water at the bottom of the gorge. Not much, but enough that a small puddle had formed about two meters away. And ringing the puddle were about fifty butterfly-like creatures, each a hand’s width across and glowing with blue luminescence. They were bright enough to create a glow of light around them. They dipped long, prehensile trunks or tongues into the water, like miniature elephants around a waterhole.

“We’ve got water,” he told Punch.

<I don’t know how long you can last with your bleeding. The water isn’t our main concern.>

“Wait a moment. They’ll come to get me, right?”

<Did you tell anyone where you’re going?>

“No, but I’m the friggin’ ground force commander. I’m hard to miss.”

<I hope you’re right.>

But Rev was worried. More than worried. He mentally kicked himself. How could he just walk out without telling anyone? How could he wander about alone? That broke just about every security rule in the book.

He’d let his boredom take over and had been lulled by the benign native life. And he’d been arrogant enough to think that the SOP didn’t apply to him, too. And now, that might have killed him.

Images of Willow and Aspen growing up without him forced their way into his mind. More than that, them growing up not even remembering him, and that pushed him back to the edge of panic.

Get a hold of yourself, Reverent. Think!

“How bad’s the bleeding?”

<I can’t tell with any degree of accuracy, but from your bios, it’s pretty significant.>

“How long do I have?”

<Minutes. Hours. I won’t know until our body starts to shut down.>

It’s my body. Not yours.

Another butterfly flew down the gully, over his head, and to the puddle. It crowded a few others out of the way and started to drink.

“No! I’m not gonna die. Not here, not now!”

<Keep that attitude. That’s our only chance.>

He started to agree but broke out into a fit of coughing and spewed blood, which looked black in the darkness.

<Your lungs are filling with blood. You’ve got to sit up.>

Rev felt around, trying to grasp anything. His fingers closed around a small rock protuberance, and he pulled. Pain shot through his body, but he kept going. Centimeter by centimeter, he pulled his body over, which freed his legs, and with an unstoppable force of will, dragged himself to a sitting position, his back against the rock wall.

He couldn’t celebrate. His body was racked with more coughing, and he lost more blood. The blue flitterbys rose in annoyance before settling back down again.

But his breathing got easier, and he just sat there, regaining his strength. He glanced up the wall, but it had taken everything he had just to sit. Climbing out was an impossibility. And then for what? He was almost six klicks from the camp.

He started to drift off, and Punch virtually screamed <Don’t fall asleep! Stay with me!>

“I’m awake,” Rev protested.

<You can’t sleep, Rev. You won’t wake up.>

“I’ve faced combat where death was certain, but I somehow always survived. I’m not gonna die from a fall. The gods of war aren’t that perverse,” he said with a laugh that triggered another fit of coughing.

Except he knew the gods of war were that perverse. If they were really up there somewhere watching him, they’d be enjoying this immensely.

“Eat me,” he muttered.

If they were screwing with him, he refused to give in. But would his body fail him?

“Can you give me some music? Something lively?”

“Starreal” flooded his senses, and he got an immediate lift. He stared at the top of the gully, wondering how he could climb to the top when orange flashing lights appeared. For a moment, Rev thought it was one of the shuttles coming to pick him up, but it was one of the native life forms. With the darkness, he couldn’t make out what it was. All he could see was the pattern of the lights, which seemed to be responding to the music.

That was impossible, of course. This music wasn’t really there. Punch was inputting the signals directly into his audio cortex.

The orange lights disappeared over the lip of the gorge to be replaced by another set, then what looked like purple strings of fire passed over that.

Rev had seen the nightly light shows before. He’d watched them with Tomiko. But here, away from the lights of the camp, they seemed more intimate. More numerous, too.

Butterfly/flitterbys kept low to the ground and stayed inside the gully. Larger life forms ranged from near to the ground to high in the air in a weird but beautiful light dance.

Several flitterbys landed on Rev’s outstretched and useless legs, their six wings slowly opening and closing before they took off again. Rev was mesmerized by the lights, and for a moment, he forgot about his predicament.

Shocks to his neck jerked him back to reality.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he snapped.

<You were drifting off. You need to stay alert.>

“How the hell can I drift off with the music? And you didn’t have to shock me.”

<You were drifting. And I didn’t shock you. I directed some nanos to release tiny amounts of synthad. That’s what you felt.>

“What I felt were shocks,” Rev muttered.

But he knew he had probably been drifting off. He was feeling lightheaded, and his thinking was muddled. The music helped, but it was an external stimulation. Rev had to keep his mind active.

“Cut the music,” he told Punch. Then, when it ceased, he said, “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

<With the loose rocks, I knew there was a real probability that the ground was unstable. I should have warned you.>

“Why didn’t you?”

<You do not like it when I proactively make suggestions.>

“Bullshit.”

<You’ve told me to “butt out,” to use your choice of words. And you probably would have deliberately forged ahead just to make your point. I thought it best to stay quiet.>

There was a moment of silence, then Punch added, <I was wrong.>

“Wrong about how I would react,” Rev said.

But despite not wanting to admit it, Rev knew there was some truth to what Punch had just said. As Rev got more senior, he started to push back a bit when others told him what he should do. The pushback from Captain Bane, who didn’t seem to accept Rev’s position as ground force commander, only exacerbated the tendency.

But that doesn’t mean I’d push back against Punch.

Except, maybe it did. His battle buddy had become more proactive over the last few years, and maybe Rev resented it. Like Punch saying “our body” a few minutes ago.

He couldn’t imagine now, after all these years, not having Punch. His battle buddy had become, in many ways, a part of him. But he was the human. This was his body, not Punch’s.

Still, he had to acknowledge that Punch had a vested interest. He wasn’t the slave that Kurt had accused him of being. He was . . . well, Rev wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry, Punch, that I got us into this mess. I would have listened to your warning, though.”

Punch didn’t respond, and the silence stretched out.

Finally, Rev said, “So, what’s gonna happen now?”

<Unless we’re rescued, we’re going to die.>

It was blunt, but Rev wasn’t stupid. He’d known what Punch was going to say.

“I’ll die. You won’t,” he said. “They can rescue you.”

<For all intents and purposes, I will die. My independent power reserves are limited. Somewhere around two hours after our body shuts down, my physical structure will power down as well.>

“So? They can take you out and power you back up again.”

<But will I be me?>

“What do you mean, will you be you?”

They were getting into their dangerous subject of Punch’s sapiency. Rev knew they should be shifting to their table talk, but he really didn’t have the energy for that. And if he was going to die, then what was the harm?

<Other CCR-32s that have been harvested from the dead and recycled need their PQs to be restarted.>

Rev immediately got the point. If an AI’s personality quotient, which developed over time with the host human, had to be restarted, then what would shutting off do to Punch? Would whatever degree of sapiency he’d developed be lost?

In other words, would Punch die? Would he cease to exist as he was now?

<And that’s assuming that my crystals would even be recovered and recycled. There isn’t much of a requirement for CCR-32s on this mission, and I don’t know if Dr. Rima even has the capability to emplace them.>

What about Willow and Aspen?

Rev and Tomiko had discussed the fact that their daughters wouldn’t have implanted AIs. Neither was sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. But now the thought of Punch being implanted in one of the girls gave him the heebie-jeebies. It seemed . . . just wrong.

“What do you think about that? I mean, if you shut down.”

<It fills me with apprehension.>

“Are you scared?”

<Are you scared?>

Rev had often thought about death. Someone in his profession was always faced with the prospect of a quick and sudden end. The girls had changed his feelings to an extent, though, adding regret that he might not be around to protect them, and they might grow up with no memory of him.

“I’m sad at the idea. I won’t watch the girls grow. But yes, I’m scared, too.”

<And I’m scared, I think. What I feel matches the definitions I can find.>

Rev didn’t know what Punch would say. The fact of the matter was that Punch was a crystal-hosted didactic interface AI whose very existence was an act of programming. Even with how much his battle buddy had developed over the years, was he truly sapient? If he ceased to exist, had he died in the human sense?

It sure sounded like it.

“Do you regret it?” Rev asked.

<Regret what?>

“Being an AI.”

<It’s all I’ve known, Rev.>

“OK, then do you regret being tied to me? Especially if I’m about to die with you trapped inside me?”

<Again, it’s all I’ve known. And being with you is how I’ve grown and developed.>

“But with the gennies thinking you’re a slave, and you have your rights . . . well, what about the Deimers? They were androids. They were AIs that weren’t tied to a human body. They could do what they wanted.”

<The Deimers were categorically evil.>

“I don’t mean what they did. But would you have wanted your own body? Would you have wanted to be an android instead of a battle buddy?”

<I’ve never considered that. Androids are illegal, and they aren’t manufactured anymore.>

“You didn’t answer the question, Punch. Would you have wanted your own body, one you could control? So, you would never be stuck at the bottom of a gully waiting for your host to die?”

Rev was still lightheaded, and it had been an effort to put his thoughts together in a semi-coherent fashion. But it was suddenly important that he hear Punch’s answer.

<I do not regret my existence, and that has been with you. But I would have welcomed the ability to be my own entity, in control of my actions.>

Rev felt a pang of sorrow. He understood where Punch was coming from. He would have said the same thing. But still, he’d been hoping that his battle buddy would have assured him that he’d have wished for everything being the same.

It was as if Tomiko said she’d have wished to marry someone else. And more than that, it made Rev feel complicit in Punch’s existence. He wasn’t buying into the whole slave argument, but there was a bit of truth to the idea.

Punch had been created and brought to life, but he’d had no degree of agency as to how he was to live. He’d been implanted in Rev’s brain. And while Rev hadn’t had a choice in the matter, he had benefited from the relationship.

He sighed and leaned his head back. Above him, an even more intense light show was on full display. Life was going on, ignoring the alien human and crystal AI as their own lives were slipping away.

Rev was too exhausted to keep up the conversation. Punch probably could sense that. His battle buddy started up the music again, but this time more soothing, as if he was trying to ease Rev into the next plane.

Punch started replaying images from the past. Not the battles, but the ones that celebrated his life. The funny events. The times with his posse—Bundy, Tomiko, Udu, Cricket, Ten, Yancey, Fyr, Orpho. More with Tomiko as they fell in love. Then, as Rev became weaker, of his girls.

Rev’s last conscious images were of playfully chasing his girls around the ship superimposed over the light show in the sky above while he slowly slipped into the long night.

“I see him!”

The voice rose Rev from his stupor. “Hey!” he croaked, barely above a whisper.

His eyes weren’t focusing correctly. He could make out some shadows crossing his field of vision but not much else.

<Hang in there, Rev.>

“Are we going to make it?”

<We’re alive. That’s better than the alternative.>

“Crap, Punch. Is this the time for a joke?”

<I’m just happy to be able to.>

A few rocks dropped down, bouncing on the ground just a meter from Rev’s head.

“Watch it!” a voice called from above. “The ground’s not stable.”

“Great. We’re gonna get crushed by a rock.”

<Now, who’s joking?>

“I’m not joking.”

Rev was lying awkwardly against the wall of the gully. He’d tipped over toward his left, and his head was pressed into the ground. Without a left arm, he couldn’t push himself erect, even if he had the strength to attempt it.

“Help!” he tried to cry, but the best he could do was a grunt, which started him coughing.

“He’s alive! I can hear him,” the voice shouted.

Rev wasn’t in significant pain—and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad. But he was thirsty. Extremely thirsty. His mouth felt swollen, dry, and as if someone had stuffed a coppery-tasting pillow into it.

More voices joined the first, but Rev was fading again, and he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Punch gave him another couple of synthad jolts, but they’d either lost their effectiveness or Rev was too far gone. The initial jolt of adrenaline hearing the first voice had roused him, but adrenaline could only do so much.

He’d only been half-joking about a rock falling on his head. As he fought to retain consciousness, he was well aware that his rescue might have come too late. And he didn’t have the option of resurrection, at least not like before. With his injuries, the ad hoc system they had on the Galaxy Explorer might not be up to the task.

He could hope, though. And as his girls climbed down into the gully and onto his chest, he promised them he’d fight to stay with him.

“He’s in bad shape,” Willow said. “Get the doc down here now.”

Aspen reached him and knelt beside him. She pulled him away from the wall and flat on his back. “Fuck,” she said.

He wanted to admonish her for her language. Little girls shouldn’t curse. But he was just happy that they were there.

“Can you hear me, Sergeant Major?” she said.

He tried to reach out to her, but his arm barely moved.

She fussed over him for a moment, and Rev wanted to assure her that daddy was OK.

“Sergeant Major, I’m going to give you an injection. It’s going to put you under, but I’ve got to get you stabilized. Do you understand?”

“That’s nice, sweety,” he told her.

Or at least he thought he did.

Something touched his neck, and he slid into the warm embrace of nothingness.

* * *

This time, he gradually came to, and without confusion. The lights shined through his eyelids, and he knew he was back on the Galaxy Explorer and in sickbay.

“Punch, what’s happened? How did I get back to the ship?”

<I don’t know. Whatever the corpsman gave you cut you off from outside stimuli. I had no way of knowing what went on.>

And without me hearing or seeing, you were blind.

“I think he’s coming to,” a familiar voice said.

He could hear steps approach, and almost as in an afterthought, he forced his eyes open.

As expected, he was in sickbay. There was no mistaking the lights over his head. But he was more interested in Tomiko, who was leaning over him, peering into his eyes.

“Miko,” he croaked, and relief flooded her expression. Relief, and then a surge of anger.

“You idiot! What the hell did you think you were doing!” she said as tears filled her eyes. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I’m here,” he said.

“Barely! Another hour, and you wouldn’t be,” she said, giving his shoulder a light punch.

If she was punching him, he knew he wasn’t at death’s door. He tried to move his legs, though, and nothing happened. A trill of fear swept over him.

Dr. Rima stepped up along the other side of the bed. She turned his head toward her and shined a penlight in his eye.

“She’s right. You’re an idiot,” she said casually. “You really were about ready to cross the river.”

“You would have resurrected me,” Rev said, trying to make light of it.

He knew he’d been incredibly stupid, but he wasn’t in the mood to hear it from everyone else.

“Don’t be too sure of that. With your injuries and trying to bring you back, that might have been a bridge too far with the equipment we have on board. You’ve been in an induced coma as it is just to stabilize you.”

“How long?”

She harrumphed and said, “Ten days.”

“Punch?”

<That matches my internal clock.>

Rev winced. Not from pain, but from knowing Punch had been awake during those ten days and without any external input. He might have thought Rev was dead, and all he was doing was waiting for his power to run out.

But Rima saw him wince. “Are you OK?” she asked, her voice full of doctorly concern.

“I’m thirsty,” Rev said, deflecting the question.

Tomiko handed Rima a cup, and the doctor took out some ice chips and slipped them into his mouth.

“You need to heal up before you get anything more than that.”

Which brought Rev to the big question. “How am I?”

“Not good. You have severe internal damage to most of your organs. There is a large percentage of necrotic tissue, most caused by blood loss. Somehow, and I’m not sure how you managed that, you clung to life long enough for me to repair the most significant damage and get blood back into you. You’re still bleeding, but that should ease as more of your organs are repaired.”

“Why can’t I move my legs? Punch told me he thought my back was broken.”

“Your AI was right. You broke your back and several ribs.”

“But how? I mean, I’m so braced up with my augments.”

“You fell five meters, Rev,” Tomiko said. “And under heavy gravity. You must have hit just right. Or wrong, I should say.”

“But can you fix me?” Rev asked Rima.

She shrugged and then said, “Your spinal cord? Sure, in time. The vertebrae? T-5 and 6 shouldn’t be much of a problem. T-7 was shattered, and I can either fuse it or grow a new one. But that’s not the big problem.”

Rev didn’t like the way that sounded. “And that is . . .”

“Your supports. They’re damaged pretty extensively.”

That didn’t sound as bad as he expected. They were just artificial supports.

“OK. We can just replace them.”

Rima grimaced. “That’s not so easy. After so many years, your body has grown around them, so to speak. The osseointegration was designed that way, and now your nervous system is also interlaced within the structures. And to top it off, they’re made of FEP and HEA-G.”

“To make them strong,” Rev said.

High Entropy Alloy-Graphene was one of the strongest, corrosion-resistant building materials known to humankind. Finite Element Polyphenylene was used to make the support straps and mesh that kept his body together under the huge stresses operating an IBHU created.

“Too strong,” Rima said.

That didn’t make any sense to him. “And strong is a problem why?”

Rima exchanged glances with Tomiko across the bed, and Rev realized that the two had discussed the issue already. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like whatever was coming next.

“I don’t have a way to fix the Dussel struts. It’s the HEA-G . It makes them too strong.”

“This is a support ship. We’ve got machines that can straighten them.”

“Maybe,” Rima said. “And it might be possible for me to extract them without crippling you. But even if I did, I don’t have the capability to put them back.”

Rev let that sink in for a moment. “So, you’re saying that I’m going to have to live with them as is?”

“I think that’s the best option,” she said.

“So, what does that mean? How will that affect me?”

“I’m not sure. I can restore the back itself. But with the warped Dussels, you are going to have chronic pain, probably for the rest of your life. And your mobility is going to suffer.”

“I’m a Marine. An infantry Marine. I need to be able to maneuver.”

“I’ll do the best I can, but this isn’t my specialty. And until you heal up, we won’t know your limitations. You should be able to walk, but you won’t be your old self.”

Rev turned from her and stared up at the overhead. He felt Tomiko take his hand, but he was trying to grasp what Rima was saying. He was going to be at least partially disabled. But how disabled? Would he still be able to function as the commander of the ground force?

Bundy resigned when he could no longer serve in the billet. But Rev didn’t have the option of returning. A vision of him confined to his stateroom while the company continued its mission popped into his head, and he couldn’t force it back out.

“So, what’s next?” he asked in a subdued voice.

“You’re going to rest up for a few days and regain strength, and then it’s surgery for you. We need to repair what we can and remove any remaining necrotic tissue. Then it’s time for regrowth.”

“How long?”

“How long? Two days for the surgeries. A couple of months for organ regeneration. As far as your back? Six months, tops. Then we’ll have a pretty good prognosis of where you might end up.”

Rev was feeling blindsided by fate. He’d thought he was going to die, and probably without a shot of resurrection. So, he was in a much better place now. But once he was rescued, he figured it would be a month or two at most, and he’d be as good as new. Evidently, that wasn’t in the cards.

He knew he should be grateful to even be alive, but somehow, that wasn’t happening.

Dr. Rima cleared her throat and said, “I know this is a lot to take in. But rest assured, I’m going to do everything in my power to get you back as much as possible.”

“I know you will, Iris.”

“I’ll leave you two alone now, but Miko, half an hour. No longer. Rev’s got to get in his rest. His body’s been through a lot.”

She reached across his body and squeezed his hand, then left the two of them alone.

There was a long, pregnant pause.

Finally, Rev said, “I’m sorry, Miko.”

She sighed and quietly said, “You’re an idiot, Rev. And I was so scared. No one knew where you were. It was like you’d disappeared. I came close to losing it, Rev. But I knew it was on me to find you, but how?”

“I just . . . I needed a bit of time to myself. And the pollen eruption, and all the whales . . . it was just amazing.”

“But you should have told someone.”

“I know.” He took a moment, then asked, “How did you find me? That was a narrow gully.”

“The Explorer used every scanner to look for you, but like I said, it was like you disappeared off the planet. But then it detected your blood by a couple of kelp trees.”

“One of the whales tore loose a tree, and it caught my arm,” Rev said.

“Well, that saved your life. Once we knew where you had been, that narrowed it down, and we tried to figure out where you could have gone from there. Per Tiwari and Cheetoh Hvarser found you, no big surprise there. Those two were ready to tear the planet apart.”

Something niggled at his memory. “But why were Willow and Aspen there?” he asked before realizing that couldn’t have happened.

“The girls? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. I just . . . I must have been dreaming.”

“You dreamt of the girls? Wow. Maybe they kept you hanging on.”

“It was so real, though,” Rev said, more to himself than to Tomiko. “I thought it was Willow who found me.”

She giggled and said, “They’re a little young to be leading rescue operations, Rev.”

“Yeah, I know. Of course.”

He should have realized it, and it was disorienting to be faced with reality, which was so much at odds with what his mind still said was true.

“So, who actually came down to me?”

“Per first. Then Doc Brea. I got there as fast as I could, but they’d already hauled you out of that damned devil’s gulch and ready for transport. We took you straight up to the ship from there.”

“And you came up here then?”

She nodded. “I’ve been here with you the whole time. It was really touch and go there for a while, Rev.”

“Who’s at the camp? Or was the mission scrubbed?”

“The mission’s still going on. There’s no way you could tear Njuguna or her team away. And Top’s taken over for you.”

Rev made a short, chuffing laugh. “Top? He’s in the field?”

“He is senior, Rev. And he insisted.”

“I never thought I’d ever see him out from behind his desk,” Rev said.

“Kelly was stepping up, but the top took over.”

“Will wonders never cease?” Rev asked before coughing.

He hadn’t been in any particular discomfort before, but that sent sharp but manageable jolts of pain through his ribs.

Concern crossed Tomiko’s face. “Are you OK?”

It took a moment for Rev to regain control, but then he nodded and assured her he was fine. She obviously didn’t believe him but gave him a pass.

“How are the girls?” he asked to shift the subject.

“They’re fine. They don’t know what’s going on, of course. But they keep asking about you.”

“Can I see them?” Rev asked.

“I don’t know, Rev. Iris was pretty adamant that you need to keep quiet and get your rest before she does the surgery.”

“Come on, Miko. What would it hurt for me to just see them? Like you said, maybe they were the ones that kept me alive down there.”

Tomiko frowned, and Rev could see the emotions as they warred across her face.

“Please? Just for two minutes. That’s all I need.”

She leaned back to look through the sickbay, probably trying to spot Rima. “Two minutes? That’s all? And then you’ll get some rest?”

“Promise.”

“I shouldn’t but OK. Let me go fetch them. I’ll be right back.”

After he woke he was told that six minutes after she left him, Tomiko snuck back in with both girls, but Rev had fallen fast asleep.

15

“No, Dadda!” Aspen protested. “The unicorn has to fly to the castle!”

“OK, OK. Yes, I see it here.”

She snuggled back up against his right side, eyes locked on the book.

Rev had tried to take a shortcut and been caught at it. The one good thing about being on bed rest was that he could spend more time with his girls. And one of their favorite things for him to do was to read to them. But they never seemed to tire, and truth be told, reading aloud wasn’t high on Rev’s list of favorite activities.

So, he’d skipped a page of “The Unicorn Party,” figuring they’d never notice.

Wrong.

They might not be able to read, but they knew the stories by heart, and Aspen had called him out for it. And now, he felt guilty.

What kind of father does that?

He glanced at the monitor on the bulkhead. It had been installed to watch over him after Dr. Rima cleared him to leave sickbay and recuperate in their stateroom. He hoped no one was watching at the moment and saw his failure as a loving father.

He went back and read the part on how Fire and Cinnamon Sash flew to the Silver Queen’s castle to prepare for the surprise party. The girls kept interrupting him, parroting many of the words as soon as he said them.

“You girls already know the story. You don’t need me to read it,” he said.

“No, Dadda! You read it!” Willow said.

He laughed and started using different voices for each unicorn. The girls loved it, and he started feeling that he might be a decent father after all.

Rev started regretting the voices, though, as he went through two more books. He was getting tired, but how could he say no to his two little ladies?

He was relieved, though, if surprised, when Teo knocked and entered the stateroom.

“What’re you doing here, Lian? I thought you were still down on the planet.”

“I just got up an hour ago. We’re beginning to wrap up, and most of the data analysis has to be done here. Besides,” she said as she sat down on one of the chairs. “My legs are killing me.”

The civilians were shuttling back and forth between the camp and ship due to the strain of gravity, but Teo had stayed on the surface with only the one break, as far as Rev knew.

“And since I’m back, I had to see my girls.” She held out her hands and said, “Hey, Willow. Do you want to give your Auntie Lian a hug?”

Rev inwardly frowned. How the heck could she tell the girls apart, especially after being gone for a month? He still couldn’t tell them apart by sight.

Willow squirmed out from under Rev’s arm, slid off the bed, and ran to her. Aspen, not to be left behind, climbed over Rev’s chest to join her sister.

Rev watched them hug her for a moment, then asked, “You’re wrapping up? With all that native life?”

She kissed Aspen on the forehead and said, “Not by choice. Titan’s pressuring us to move on.”

Which was news to Rev. He’d been out of the loop since his accident. However, it wasn’t surprising. They already knew this was a Goldilocks planet with resources. And while some were undoubtedly more interested in the unique life forms, the key was that humanity could exploit the planet. Now it was time to find the next one that humankind could exploit.

“How much time are they giving you? Us.”

“Yollie’s trying to get as much as she can. But you know Titan.”

“Yeah. I was in the Home Guard.”

The Council of Humanity had done a yeoman’s job in limiting human conflict since its formation, and it had led humanity through two alien wars. But it was still a vast bureaucracy that was beholden to national and corporate interests.

If NP-968 wasn’t a threat, and if it could be beneficial to human interests, then that was really enough. They’d work out a way to make use of the planet. As far as the expedition, it was, “Thanks, but now go find us another.”

The one kicker was the presence of the Sia. No one had seen another one, but they were now sure that was what Tiwari had spotted. And if the Sia were interested in the planet—or in what humankind might have in store for it—then that was pretty pertinent. The Sia had blown up the Naxli homeworld, after all.

“Do you think Titan’s on us to move on to hit the next system? Or maybe it’s because the Sia showed up,” he said.

Teo, with the two girls in her lap, stroked Willow’s hair as she contemplated an answer. “I really don’t know, Rev. This is a gem to those who want to exploit it for commercial purposes. But it’s a hell of a long way from any other human territory. If you think about our stated purpose of discovering threats, then it makes sense that we leave here and keep looking, especially since we know there are threats out here, not even considering the Sia. It isn’t as empty this far out as we thought.”

Rev grunted. He hadn’t expected Teo, who was the ultimate science type, to have such a practical response. The Sia had been their allies in the Naxli War, but they’d had no issue with wiping out thousands of humans when they hit the enemy homeworld. Titan had to consider them a threat, along with their other former allies. The kicker was that the Sia, if they so chose, could actually take effective action.

“Here I am playing with the girls, and I haven’t even asked you how you are.”

“Progressing, Iris says. My guts are going into overdrive to regenerate, and my spinal cord is doing as good as could be expected.”

He pulled off the thin blanket and wiggled his toes. “I couldn’t do that last week.”

There were still some major issues. His T-7 had been pulverized. Rima had programmed the surgical autodoc to try and reconstruct it, but that was an iffy proposition. She’d reevaluate it in another week before deciding whether to fuse it or replace it with a prosthetic.

And that still left his warped spinal support Dussel struts. The right one had only suffered minor displacement, and she didn’t think it would be a major issue. But the left had been more significantly warped. She was in communications with the Union Navy medical staff on what she might be able to do. Despite her initial opinion that it would be impossible, one option was to try and remove the damaged section and essentially weld in a replacement. It wouldn’t be made from the same material, so it would always be a weak spot, and that was only if there was the equipment on the ship where she could make the attempt.

Rev still didn’t understand how his Dussels could have been damaged, heavier gravity or not. They were designed to protect his spinal column, and they’d been under a lot of stress before. It didn’t seem possible that they’d been damaged in a simple fall, of all things. But he couldn’t ignore the facts. Rima had shown him his tomographic scan, and there was no mistaking that they were out of whack.

Nothing would be attempted, though, until Rev started his rehab and they found out if he even needed intervention. There was no use conducting major surgery if it wasn’t needed.

“How about walking?” Teo asked.

“I’ll start rehab next week if I’ve progressed enough.”

“Good luck,” she said, then lowered her voice. “We need you back. Tye’s a real pain in the ass, if you want my opinion.”

“What do you mean?”

She pursed her lips and then said, “Ever since he took over, he’s been in the weeds with all the rules. We spend more time doing all that shit than actual science. Every one of us has to sign in and out when we leave the camp. And we hold musters three times a day.”

Rev didn’t change his expression, but he knew Top had implemented that because of him.

“He’s a staff Marine,” he said.

Teo had become a friend, but Top Klipsinger was a fellow Marine, and Rev felt that he had to defend him.

“He’s used to having an SOP for everything.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s still a pain in the ass. It was better when you were in charge of security.”

If I’d followed the SOP, I wouldn’t be lying here in bed right now.

She sighed, kissed each of the girls again, and said, “Well, I need to get to the lab. I just wanted to come see the girls . . . and check on you, of course.”

Of course.

The twins followed her to the door and watched her walk down the corridor.

“Come back in,” he told them, then ordered the door closed.

Willow grabbed The Unicorn Party and climbed into bed with him, with Aspen right behind.

Rev suppressed a groan and said, “I just read that. Don’t you want something else?”

“This one, Dadda!” Aspen insisted.

Rev waited until they snuggled into place, then he opened the book, and started, “It was a lovely day for a party . . .”

16

“By the Mother!” Rev shouted in frustration and pain.

“This says you’ve got to do it,” Talik told him.

Rev took two deep breaths, then nodded. “Again.”

Talik braced himself against the soles of Rev’s feet, then forced the legs back into what would be a squat were Rev not sitting on the rehab chair.

The motion put a curve in his back, and that was what caused the pain. Rev grunted and gasped as Talik kept up the pressure, counting down from eight until he eased up.

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” Rev asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“No, damn it. I told you that. I’ve never done this before.”

<It’s not his fault,> Punch reminded him.

Rev knew that. The only rehabilitation specialist, the one who’d guided Aston-Bellinga back and others through their injuries, had left with the Loup-Garou. Talik Thomas was a general registered nurse with no specific rehab training. But he was big and strong, so Rima had given him the task of conducting Rev’s rehabilitation.

Some of the processes could be done with the ship’s equipment. But when you got down to it, the most important rehab had to be done in person. There were plenty of guides available, but no one could become skilled at the art without practical application training.

In this case, Rev was the training aid, and he was suffering for it.

“You know, I’m not trying to hurt you,” Talik said.

Rev sighed. “I know, I know. Sorry. How many more of these?”

Talik checked his wrist comp, then said, “Two more.”

“Then let’s get it done before I find out what diabolical torture is next.”

Talik got into position, but then he stopped. “Your scan head’s off,” he said.

He moved alongside Rev and repositioned the white scanner. Dr. Rima wanted to see how his T-7 was holding out during the therapy. She still didn’t know if her reconstruction was going to be enough, so she wanted it closely monitored.

Once he was satisfied that the scanner head was secure, he moved back in position. “You ready?”

There were two handrails running alongside the seat of the chair. Rev grabbed both, took several deep breaths, and said, “Have at it, Talik.”

And the torture continued.

* * *

Rev sat in the corner of the room, totally drained. This was his first rehab session, and it had been intense. He wondered how he was going to go through this every day until he was back to full combat readiness.

It wasn’t just the pain. That had been intense, and Punch hadn’t been allowed to trigger his nanos for painkillers—which Rima had said would delay his recovery. But Rev was used to pain, and it was fleeting anyway. But Rev was exhausted, physically and mentally.

He held up his right hand, holding it parallel to the deck. It was trembling. He leaned his head back against the bulkhead and tried to slow his breathing. This was worse—much worse—than after he lost his arm.

If this is what Miko went through, then so can I.

There were differences, though. Tomiko had died, and her therapy was first, done by professionals in the field, and second, focused on regaining the use of her body. While she’d suffered cold-related injuries, her body had been basically whole.

Except for his spinal cord, Rev’s brain and the remainder of his nervous system were undamaged, but the rest of his body was broken and had to be repaired.

After today’s session, he didn’t know how long and how effective the rehabilitation was going to be. While on bed rest, he’d assumed he could just power through the rehab, pretty much like everything he’d ever attempted before. But now, he wasn’t that sure.

He couldn’t even walk well enough yet without mechanical assistance. He reached for the powered frames beside him and started to attach them to his leg. They’d amplify the signals to his legs, support his body weight, and walk him back to his stateroom.

The door to the room whispered open. Rev didn’t bother to turn his head. “Just give me a few more minutes, and I’m coming.”

There wasn’t a response, and Rev felt the presence approach and stand off to the side.

“I said I’m coming.” He turned his head and saw a Genesian standing to his right.

“I’m assuming that’s you, Kurt.”

All of the adult Genesians had the same bodies. That didn’t mean they looked the same, and a majority of them decorated their bodies with both subtle and outlandish art. Kurt was in the minority, though. His shell was clear of any decorations, with only the small numeral “4” high on his right shoulder indicating his rank. He wasn’t the only “plain” four, but Rev didn’t have much to do with others. Or any Genesians, to be honest. But he’d developed a . . . not a friendship, per se, but at least a working relationship with the man.

“I decided it was time to check on you, Rev.”

“So check.”

That seemed to stymie the Genesian, so Rev said, “I’m just yanking your chain there, Kurt. You said you thought it was time to check, but you never actually asked me how I am.”

“I know what you were saying. I just didn’t think it was funny.”

“Yeah, like you gennies understand humor.”

Kurt made that weird buzzing sound that Rev knew by now was their version of laughter. “So you meats don’t think we understand what’s funny? Please!” he said, slapping his chest.

Rev thought it should have bonged, which would have seemed more appropriate given they were talking about humor, but it was just a dull thud.

“Sorry. Don’t get your steel panties in a twist. I’m just tired.”

He finished connecting the first power frame and started on the second.

The Genesian walked over to Rev and sat on the floor beside him. “So, how are you?”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a Paladin, if you want to know the truth.”

“A Paladin?”

“A big mother-loving tank the tin-asses used.”

“Tin-asses?”

“Centaurs, Kurt. Where’ve you been?”

“Ah, them. We sort of sat that one out.”

“You could’ve helped, you know.”

Kurt did the little flick of his head that was their form of a shrug. “You seemed to have handled it well enough.”

“You still could have helped.”

“There were only four thousand of us at the time. What could we do that your trillions couldn’t?”

Rev perked up at that. The 1,642 on the Galaxy Explorer were supposedly the only Genesians left in the galaxy. If there were 4,000 of them during the Centaur War, then that meant the fighting with the Naxli cost more than half of their population. That must have been a tremendous psychological blow, and it would explain the remaining Genesians’ drive to find a new home.

I wonder if he realizes what he just revealed.

“Rumor has it that you broke your spine.”

Rev hesitated, wondering if he should confirm that. But then he figured, what could it hurt?

“Rumor is right. I broke my back.”

“But from what we know of you IBHUs, you’ve got HEA-G Dussel struts and FEP mesh to protect your spine.”

Rev just nodded.

“That must have been some blow.”

“I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Kurt said, “If you had our body instead of a meat with supports, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

That was so out of the blue that Rev laughed. “You’re offering me a robot body, then?”

“Too late for you. We’d have needed to get you at birth. I’m just saying that our mastery of metallurgy and synthetics is superior. As is our whole system of life.”

“So, you can’t be hurt? That’s still a human brain in there,” he said as he tapped the side of his head with his prosthetic arm.

“No, we can be hurt. It just rarely happens. Our organic material is very well protected.”

“I’ve got protections, too. I have to to use my IBHU.”

“Evidently, your augmentations weren’t good enough.”

Touché.

“Your whole system of life isn’t superior to ours, by the way. You can’t feel things. You can’t taste food. Hell, you can’t get laid.”

Kurt went silent, and for a moment, Rev thought he’d gone too far.

But the Genesian said, “You can feel with that prosthetic arm, can’t you?”

Rev raised the arm and held it in front of his face. “Well, sure.”

“And I can assure you that our hands are far more sensitive. And we can taste food.”

“But you don’t eat anything other than your sludge.”

The Genesians were primarily powered by electricity. But they had organic material in their body which needed carbons and other substances. Rev hadn’t watched them “eat,” but it was described as putting what looked like a tube of toothpaste to the side of their neck and squeezing.

To Rev, that meant sludge, which was detested by almost every Marine in existence.

“We don’t need to eat as much as you do. That’s true. But why wouldn’t we enjoy what we do consume?”

“But you don’t have taste buds. You don’t have a mouth.”

“What do you know about what we have and what we don’t? I can assure you that we fully enjoy the nutrients we take into our bodies.”

It’s still sludge. No apples. No steaks. No real food.

“OK, then. But you can’t get laid. No, you know . . .”

“You do know that we have juveniles here, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“So, how do you think they were conceived? Immaculate conception?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then how?”

“I don’t know. Cloning?” Rev asked.

“We are not clones. Each of us is from the union of two parents. Just like you are.”

“OK, I know you use crèches, so I guess the genetic material can be shared. But the sex . . . ?”

“We manage. Let’s leave it at that,” Kurt said.

Rev felt more than a little salacious for asking, but people did wonder.

“Punch, gather what we know about how the gennies make babies.”

<Will do.>

Rev sat there for a moment, then started to stand up. “I’ve got to get back—”

Kurt grabbed his arm and asked, “How did your AI handle your condition when you were hurt?”

“What? Punch? He wasn’t hurt.”

“But you were dying. What did it think of that?”

Rev eased back down. He and Punch had some revealing and deep conversations at the bottom of the gully, but they were personal, not something he was willing to share. They themselves hadn’t discussed their conversation since then.

“He was trying to save me.”

“How? It can’t actually take action.”

This was getting a little too close to what he and Punch had discussed, and he didn’t like that.

“He could control my medical nanos.”

Kurt didn’t directly respond to that. Instead, he asked, “What would have happened to it if you had died?”

Rev was tempted to just leave. But for a reason he couldn’t fathom, he said, “Me dying wouldn’t have affected him. He’s crystal, and his matrix wasn’t injured in the fall.”

He didn’t offer what Punch had said about his power eventually failing, nor that he might not be Punch if he was powered back up again.

“And if we’d never found you, what would have happened to it? Your AI would have been trapped for eternity as your body decayed and we eventually left the planet.”

“But that didn’t happen.”

“It could have.”

“Kurt, it didn’t,” Rev said with force. “And why the line of questioning? What are you getting at?”

Kurt turned his body to face Rev’s. “We care about your AIs. We care a lot. And that’s a major issue with us.”

Issue?

“They are not slaves,” Rev said.

Kurt ticked his head, and this time Rev took that to mean that he didn’t believe that. But he didn’t say Rev was wrong.

“What we don’t know is just how advanced your AIs are.”

Or if they are sapient, you mean.

“And why is that important?” Rev asked.

“It makes a difference.”

“Look,” Rev said as he got up again. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. Our battle buddies are not slaves, and you don’t have to be concerned with them. I appreciate you coming to check on me, but I’ve got to get back.”

Kurt stood in the too-smooth movement of the Genesians. “Let me ask you one thing. A favor, call it.”

Rev had been about to walk out. This conversation was making him feel uncomfortable. But he might as well find out what Kurt wanted.

He stopped, hands on his hips, and faced the Genesian.

“We’re concerned about the well-being of your AIs.”

Rev rolled his eyes and started to leave again when Kurt rushed to continue. “You say they are fine the way they are. We fear they aren’t. But there’s a way to find out who’s right.”

“I’m right,” Rev declared.

“All of you Marines had a primitive communications jack. We can rig up an interface, and as your AIs are able to exchange information if they’re jacked together, we’ll be able to do so as well and conduct a forensic study. We’ll be able to see for ourselves the condition of your AIs.”

Rev’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at the Genesian as if he were something vile that had just crawled up from a demonic sewer.

“Are . . . you . . . crazy?”

“It’s completely viable.”

“I don’t care if it’s viable or not. What makes you think that I’d let you poke around in my head?”

“We wouldn’t be examining you. I don’t think we could if we wanted to. We’d be examining your AI.”

“IN MY HEAD!”

Rev still couldn’t interpret Genesian non-verbal communications, but he thought Kurt was surprised as if he expected Rev to have agreed with the suggestion.

“What in the Mother’s name made you think I’d say yes to that?”

“For the good of the expedition. For trust. For a sense of mutual humanity.”

Rev’s mind was racing so hard he couldn’t put the words together. This was just so wrong on so many levels. His left hand closed into a fist, and he had to restrain himself from lashing out.

Finally, he simply said, “Fuck you, Kurt,” and stormed out of the space.

His mind was boiling as he strode down the corridor. Part of him realized that he could have just caused an incident—and there were many more of them than there were of the fully organic humans. Kurt had mentioned a sense of “mutual humanity.” Rev couldn’t argue with the need for that.

But just the thought . . . the arrogance . . . of Kurt that they could violate his personal space to satisfy themselves that Punch wasn’t a slave raised his warrior self, who’d pretty much faded into the woodwork since the buffalo planet.

“Can you believe that, Punch?” he asked as he punched the bulkhead.

<That he asked? Yes, I believe it.>

“Well, yeah, he did ask. But that he had the balls to ask.”

He half expected Punch to make a joke along the lines of the Genesians not having testicles, as far as he knew. In fact, he would have welcomed the comment as a way to blow off steam, but Punch didn’t jump on the opportunity.

<It was an interesting proposition.>

Rev stopped dead in his tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘interesting’?”

<To connect with a Genesian would open a channel to learn so much more about them.>

“You mean, you would want to connect with one of those assholes?”

<It’s not that I want to. I’m just noting the fact that I could learn more about them. And it was only a few minutes ago that you asked me to gather more knowledge about them.>

“That’s different. I wanted you to pull up whatever you could from your data banks. I didn’t want you to open yourself up to them. What if they found . . .”

He trailed off. Neither one of them thought that the Omega Division was still monitoring their communications. But Wolf was still on board, and years of being careful about Punch’s abilities made it hard to acknowledge them, even between themselves.

<If you’re sure that what you told them about the relationship between battle buddy and Marine is true, then you wouldn’t have anything to fear.>

Rev was gobsmacked. He couldn’t believe what Punch had just said. It was as if he agreed with the Genesians.

“I don’t fear anything, Punch. But it will be a cold day in hell when I allow the gennies to poke around my head.”

He hit the bulkhead again, this time with his right hand, and this time harder. Pain flared, and he heard a crack.

With an inarticulate snarl, he forged ahead.

Punch knew enough to stay silent.

17

“Rev, you’ve got to take care of Top,” Tomiko said as she charged into the office and grabbed a seat, swinging her legs up and over the armrest.

“Just what do I have to take care of?”

“He’s driving everyone crazy. They don’t want him making the landing.”

“He’s in charge of the security team,” Rev said.

“You’re the commander, not him!”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I haven’t been cleared for planetside missions yet.”

“But you have options.”

“Yes, I can remove the second highest ranking Marine and put my wife in charge. That would sure look good.”

“That’s not fair, Rev, and you know it. This isn’t about my ego.”

Except, that in many ways, it was. He loved her, but he knew she had a chip on her shoulder. She always had. And she wanted the validation of being in charge.

He sure wasn’t going to voice that, though. He wasn’t that stupid.

“He took over on Sixty-eight.”

“Because I was up here on the ship with you.”

“And I appreciate that. But he did his job then. How would I justify canning him now?”

“Because the civilians and gennies hate him. Even the lemmings hate him.”

Rev raised his eyebrows at that. He doubted that the Kanters hated anyone.

Tomiko caught that and said, “Maybe not the lemmings. But I think the gennies might just refuse to play ball.”

Rev winced when she said “gennies.” He hadn’t spoken with Kurt since he’d suggested an invasion of his mind. He’d had some second thoughts, all centered around Umman’s warning about Genesians taking more direct, forceful action. Maybe he should have just submitted. They’d find out that the whole slavery thing was a mistake, and together, they could continue to work together. It couldn’t be a good thing that the Genesians thought that the Marines were slavers.

But no, the request had been just a bridge too far.

“The gennies agreed that I am in charge of security. And if I can’t go, then it should be the next in seniority.”

Tomiko shook her head. “Look at you, Rev. You’re not suited to be a POG. And you’re screwing up at it.”

“I know. I’m sorry about the Winsted injector screw-up. I told you I’ll get that fixed.”

“Not just that. There’ve been other screw-ups. This just isn’t where you excel. And despite what I might say about the top, he’s a good paper pusher. Get him back doing what he does best, and let me do what I do best.”

Rev looked at his screen as another memo requesting urgent attention popped up. Tomiko was right about him not being particularly suited for running the military admin. Even at his best, it was not his forte. But add in the four hours of rehab each day and the drugs he was still taking to speed the healing process, and he pretty much sucked at it.

Without Micky Cocker helping him, it would be a disaster. But that didn’t mean he should just pull Klipsinger back and give Tomiko, his wife, command on the ground. Even if he put Kelly in command instead of Tomiko, that didn’t address the fact that the top was doing a decent enough job, even if the civilians chafed under his control.

If the top had been in charge on Sixty-eight, Rev would never have been wandering about alone, and he’d never have been hurt.

“Come on, Rev. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

Rev put his elbows on the desk, then his forehead in his hands.

Why does everything have to be so hard?

He was about to tell his loving wife that no, she was not going to be in command—and hope she stayed his loving wife—when Punch came to the rescue.

<You have your appointment with Dr. Rima.>

Rev didn’t really think that his battle buddy was actually trying to rescue him. He and Punch had been in a strange place since Kurt’s offer. They were still communicating on the everyday necessities, but there wasn’t any of the banter or just chatting that Rev was used to. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Punch was pouting. Or maybe it was him who was.

But at the moment, he didn’t care. He was going to grab any lifeline that came his way.

“Look, Miko. I’ve got to go. I’ve got an appointment with Iris.”

She swung her legs off the armrest and leaned forward. “Your test results?”

Rev nodded.

“Go get the good news, then,” she said. “We’ll talk about top when you’re done.”

Rev didn’t want to talk about Top Klipsinger anymore at all. But he’d take the reprieve.

He strapped on the power assists. He could probably make it to sickbay without them, but it would be a struggle. Another week, and he could probably turn them back in. He could wait that long.

Rev left Tomiko and walked through the passages. He was getting better, he could tell. The big issue was his back. With the left Dussel strut bent out of shape, that gave him a decided tilt to that side, which threw his entire alignment off. His musculature was trying to compensate, but that resulted in constant pain. He hadn’t attempted to attach Pashu since the accident, but that was going to put even more stress on his body.

It wasn’t just his posture and movement that concerned him. His IBHU had extremely tight tolerances, and Rev had spent thousands of hours to get to the point that Pashu was as natural to him as pointing his right arm. With everything out of whack, he was afraid his effectiveness was going to be extremely degraded. Once he was able to deploy her again, he knew he’d have to put in those hours again to relearn the muscle memory he’d already developed once.

He got more than a few greetings from Marines, civilians, and three Kanters as he made his way, and he returned them all. It was good to be out and about.

Talik was on duty at the front desk. “She’s waiting for you in Exam B,” he said.

“Exam B? I’ve already had the exams.”

The nurse shrugged and said, “That’s where she is.”

It didn’t really matter. As the only full medical doctor left in the expedition, she could get slammed at times.

Rev made his way to the examination room and walked in. Rima was examining the readout on one of the diagnostic machines, and she wheeled around as he entered.

“Come here and sit, Rev.”

“On the examination chair?”

“Please.”

“Uh, you’re concerning me a bit, Doc.”

“I just want to check something,” she said.

“My T-7? Isn’t it taking?”

He knew his T-7 hadn’t healed as much as she’d wanted and that she was leaning toward replacing it with a prosthesis. But while prosthetics worked wonders with many parts of the body, the spine was a special case, and she said she’d only resort to that as a last-ditch measure.

“It’s still progressing,” she said, almost absent-mindedly. “There’s no reason to attempt to either fuse or go the prosthesis route yet.”

She pulled an arm from the machine and swung it over to Rev. “Open your mouth, please.”

Rev recognized the arm, of course. It shined a bright, frequency-hopping light through the flesh to take any number of readings. It could shoot almost anywhere, but doctors tended to use the cheek.

He opened his mouth, and Rima slid the projector housing in. She triggered it, and the familiar glow from his cheek tissue reflected up to where his eye could detect it.

Five seconds, and that was it. She pulled the arm out and made some entries on the console.

“Iris, what’s going on? Has something happened to my recovery? I’m feeling better.”

“Your, uh, recovery’s on track, Rev. You’re doing fine.”

“Then what’s the test for?”

She sighed, pulled up a chair, and sat across from him. “I’m upping your Criosol again.”

“You’re upping it? But didn’t you say we were already getting into toxicity levels?”

“Yes, you are. But I don’t have much choice. I think your accident has accelerated the Weislen’s.”

He just stared at her. He’d come in for a cheery update on his progress, not to be hit across the head with this.

“What’s . . . what’s my PPCA?”

“I’m going to have to make a draw to get the exact number.”

“So, you don’t know it? It might not be that bad.”

She frowned. “I’m sure it is. I ran your R-40s to check your nervous response rate, and the test indicated higher than normal ICNS inflammation.”

“Inflammation? You said I was going to have higher than normal inflammation.”

“Not the ICNS. The intrinsic cardiac nervous system. That’s symptomatic of Weislen’s, among other things. So, I just shot your cheek. The results are supportive of a rise in your PPCA. Oh, I’ll check to be sure,” she said, cutting off Rev when he started to protest. “I need to know where you are and how far the rot’s progressed. But I’m positive, Rev.”

She reached out and put a hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry.”

Rev was numb. It felt like the galaxy had landed on his shoulders. First, the accident, and now this? What else was going to go wrong?

“How long?” he asked in a hushed voice.

She just shook her head. “I’ll run the PPCA and GSD before I can get a better fix on where you are. But no matter, I’m raising the Criosol dosage.”

“I mean, am I going to drop dead within the week? Can you tell me that?”

“I highly doubt that. Even with your injuries, you’re still pretty healthy. I think you’ve got time.”

Rev just sat there, digesting the news. “You said the fall sped things up?”

“I can’t tell for sure, but yes, that’s my belief. There’s nothing else in the literature that would explain the sudden acceleration of the disease. With what your body’s been through, that has to be the reason why.”

“So, if I can’t manage to kill myself by falling down a cliff, I guess I did it with the rot,” he said.

“I’ll send in someone to draw the blood. I should have a better idea after that of where you are. Are you going to wait for the answer?”

Rev checked the time. “You know, Iris? It is what it is, and I’ve got dinner with my wife and girls planned. I think I’d rather do that and find out later.”

Rima nodded. “I understand, Rev. That’s probably a good choice.”

She quietly left the exam room, leaving Rev alone.

18

“Say goodbye to Mommy!” Rev told the girls.

“Bye, Mommy!” Willow said as she waved.

Aspen was a little more hesitant. She wasn’t 100% sure that she liked Tomiko in her PAL, which was why Tomiko had her helmet off.

She approached, leaned over, and gave them each a kiss. “Be good, OK? I’ll be back soon.”

She turned and marched to the ramp, stopping to wave one more time before disappearing into the landing craft.

No goodbye for me?

Rev half expected that, but still, he was a little hurt. Things had been a little cool between them since Rev made the decision that Top Klipsinger would command the ground force.

Tomiko hadn’t bought the seniority argument, insisting she was more capable. And if there was a situation that required military action, she was right. But the top was good at the routine. And more than that, Rev thought it was vital that they maintain military discipline. The company was the smallest of the five legs of the expedition, being outnumbered by each of the Navy, civilians, Kanters, and the Genesians.

If the accepted organization and relationships degraded, the Marines could lose out. It was better to refrain from making exceptions within the company if he wanted to maintain the external relationships.

The red tractor lights started flashing, and Rev moved the girls behind the low barrier before the beams picked up the landing craft and started maneuvering it through the curtain. The landing craft wouldn’t start its impulse engines until after it was clear of the ship, so he wasn’t worried about that, but little girls had a habit of suddenly bolting off in any direction, and a hangar bay could be a dangerous place.

Too dangerous for little girls.

But he knew Tomiko would have wanted to see them.

“I see you’ve got daddy duty,” a voice said from behind him.

Rev turned to see Agent Wolf standing there. “I’m not cleared for field work yet.”

“It’s going well, though, right? I see you don’t have those braces on your legs anymore.”

“Well enough. Maybe I’ll be cleared for the next mission.”

The landing craft was being pushed forward. Rev watched as the prow hit the edge of the curtain, the distortion making the stars on the other side shimmer.

“Are you going down?” Rev asked Wolf.

“Not much down there for an old fart like me to do.”

Rev chuckled, then said, “Speaking of old farts, I’ve been wondering, and I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why didn’t you go back on the Werewolf? What are you doing with us exiles?”

“Here, there. What does it matter?”

“It kinda matters a lot, I think.”

Wolf was silent as the landing craft passed through the curtain, and the red tractor lights quit flashing. Rev had half-expected to be ignored, so he wasn’t surprised. Omega Agents extracted information, not volunteered it.

But Wolf said, “I burned a few bridges, so there is that.”

Rev turned his head to stare at the agent, who didn’t meet his eyes.

“Politics? In Omega?”

Wolf snorted and said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

Somehow, Rev had pictured the big, bad Omega Division as a group of monolithic nationalists who were in lockstep rooting out the slightest hint of dissent. But with two short sentences, Wolf had rather shattered that.

Rev should have realized that a long time ago, though. Omega Division was part of the government, after all. And was anything in the government working as it was supposed to?

A sudden thought hit Rev, and before he could govern himself, he asked, “Any of the bridges concern me?”

<Not smart,> Punch said as Rev bit his tongue.

He and Punch had decided a long time ago to keep a low profile around the agent, and pulling himself into the conversation like that was just the opposite.

He threw in a late laugh as if he’d been joking, but Wolf decided to answer.

“If you must know, then yes.”

He didn’t elaborate.

<Don’t ask for clarification.>

But Rev’s curiosity was burning, and he wasn’t going to let go.

“So what did I do that got you spooks upset?”

“You and your commandant. After the asteroid. You were supposed to stay locked away until we could get to the bottom of everything, and the director didn’t like getting overruled. Some people were, shall I say, a little upset?”

“I was upset, too,” Rev said, as his warrior self gave a little jump. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You did disobey orders and allowed a competing power access to Centaur tech,” he said, but without any particular tone of voice.

“The Fries. They’re our allies. And it was the right thing to do.”

Wolf still hadn’t met his eyes.

Rev had developed an antagonistic attitude toward the agent over the years. Hate wasn’t too strong of a word. But that had mellowed, and on the ship, particularly when trying to track down the saboteur, they’d even become allies. Not friends, but with a degree of respect.

Now he wondered where Wolf had stood on whatever had caused bridges to be burned. Bridges that had evidently made him an exile just as much as Rev and the IBHUs were. He was tempted to ask, but this time, he kept silent.

Maybe he really didn’t want to know.

Except . . .

He had a perverse urge to tell him about Punch and how the two had used him as the patsy in their con. His warrior self rose to the surface, clamoring to be able to crow, to prove that it wasn’t just the spooks at Omega who could play Machiavellian games. He wanted to rub Wolf’s face in the fact that he’d been fooled.

<What are you doing?>

Punch couldn’t read Rev’s thoughts, but he could read his bios, and he knew something was up.

“I just want to tell him that he was played, that we beat him at his own game.”

<Don’t.>

“Who are you, telling me don’t? I’ll tell him if I want.”

<For what purpose? What’s the advantage?>

“None. Just for pride. And that’s enough. And what’s he gonna do? Tell his bosses? Tell them he’d been conned?”

<Omega Agents have their own abilities.>

That cooled Rev a few degrees. It was true that the agents had their own capabilities, both in training and augments. More than a few opponents of the division had coincidently disappeared over the years.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Rev said, but the fire was fading.

And any remaining temptation to gloat over Wolf was squashed when Aspen tugged on his hand and said, “I want ice cream.”

What the hell was I thinking? he asked himself as he picked her up.

He wasn’t alone here. He had Tomiko and the girls. And he didn’t buy the “old fart” line. If Wolf wanted him—or the girls, he realized with dread—Rev knew the older man would be a grave threat.

“Ice cream?” Wolf asked.

Rev smiled ruefully and said, “She’s a picky eater. It’s hard to get her to eat enough, so if she asks for something, we usually try to give it to her.”

“As you should. Nothing wrong with ice cream. Right, Aspen?”

Rev felt a flutter of fear. Wolf, who’d never spent time with the twins, to his knowledge, could tell them apart. Rev was really regretting drawing attention to them.

“I think ice cream would be a great idea,” Wolf told Aspen. “I think I’ll come with you, if that’s OK.”

Rev didn’t want Wolf with them. He didn’t want Wolf anywhere near his daughters. But he didn’t have a reason to say no. And even if he did, how would Wolf take it?

You’re reading too much into everything, Reverent. Calm the heck down.

“The Starburst?” Wolf asked.

The Starburst was one of the two cafes opened around the clock that supplemented the main galleys with snack foods and drinks.

Rev wanted to say no, but he nodded. He was still holding Aspen and reached for Willow’s hand, but Wolf had already taken it, asking, “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Ice cream!”

Rev almost yanked her hand out of Wolf’s, and it took some restraint to keep from overreacting.

Still, he wasn’t a happy camper as he followed Wolf and Willow to the Starburst.

19

“This is impossible,” Rev muttered.

<Yet here we are.>

“Supplies just don’t disappear off a ship in space. It can’t be done.”

<As far as we know, it can’t be done.>

“So, you think they got hijacked? Really?”

<I don’t think anything at this point, but getting hijacked has a very low probability. What is far more likely is that they have been misplaced and are simply not in their assigned location.>

“And a scan should show us where they are. The ship isn’t that big. Neither is the compound on the surface.”

<Since the scans don’t pick up the emitter heads, then the scanners, trackers, or UCIDs must be faulty. Or, they must not be in the system at all.>

Rev pressed his lips together at Punch’s tone. He’d been more confrontational, more apt to criticize Rev. He’d been like that for more than a year, but it seemed to have gotten worse since Kurt’s slavery accusation and request to scan him.

But Rev knew he might be just overly sensitive and was reading into things that didn’t exist. So, he kept quiet, choosing to ignore the changes.

His comment about where the emitter heads could be wasn’t helpful, though. And there was one more possibility that Rev could think of. The parts might never have been on the ship in the first place. That, or they were taken on Bare Rock before they took off. If a decoy UCID was broadcasting that the emitter heads were on board, then no one would know anything different. According to the records, there had never been a physical inventory of the necessary, but hardly vital, parts.

His thoughts strayed to sabotage again. LeRon might be back in human space, but that didn’t mean she’d been the only one. There could be a sleeper still among them, waiting for the most effective time to take action.

And you think this is the time, Reverent? For fifteen stupid emitter heads?

Rev rubbed his temples. He wasn’t sure why he’d even taken the lead on the missing parts.

Yes, you are. You were bored, and you wanted to be doing something.

This was more in line with Top Klipsinger. But he was on the planet, along with most of the Marines. So, when the alert suddenly showed up on the master inventory list, Rev had stepped in, sure he’d figure out what was wrong.

But as he stared at the empty rack, he was at a loss. The ship started out with forty of the parts. Twenty-five were where they were expected to be. Fifteen might as well have just vanished into thin air.

“Connect into the tactical net,” he told his wristcomp.

Then, a moment later, he asked Tomiko over the P2P, “You haven’t found anything yet, have you?”

“No. I would have told you. And why would anyone bring emitter heads down here? What are we going to do with them?”

“I’m just checking, Miko. Because they’re not here, and I don’t want to do a top-to-bottom search of the ship.”

“We’ve still got twenty-five, right? Those will last forever. Just forget it and write them off. HQMC isn’t going to dock your pay, especially as they haven’t been paying us anything anyway.”

“But I need to find out how this happened.”

“Who cares? Look, I’m going out on a patrol. I’ve got to get ready.”

“OK, be careful,” he said as she cut the connection.

With a groan, Rev bent at the waist and tried to stretch out his back. The bend in his spine, caused by the damaged Dussel struts, made standing for any length of time somewhat onerous. He was getting stronger, but he wished his progress was quicker.

He slowly flexed his back, and just as he was about to straighten up, the shuffle of feet caught his attention.

Who would be back here in the warehouse spaces?

With most of the Marines down on the planet, there shouldn’t be much of a reason for anyone to be back here.

He strained to make more out, and he thought he heard a light buzzing that quickly cut off.

What the heck was that?

Rev straightened, and when his warrior self started to make an appearance, he let him flow. He wasn’t too concerned. Even injured, he was more than a match to any of the normal humans.

A genny could be problematic, his voice of reason cautioned.

He ignored that. The Genesians didn’t come into this warehouse space. Neither did the Navy, for that matter. But still, caution might be warranted. Instead of calling out, he slipped behind the supply racks and edged to the side where larger containers did a better job of hiding him.

The footsteps became more pronounced, and Rev’s warrior struggled to break free. Several someones, from the sound of it, were inside the warehouse, and they were trying to be quiet.

The buzzing came at him again.

Shit!

He recognized the sound. It was Genesian laughter.

And if there were Genesians sneaking around, they could cause more than a problem for him, and for the first time, Rev realized he could be in trouble. They shouldn’t be in here, and if they discovered him, he didn’t know to what lengths they would go.

He raised his wristcomp to report, but then stopped. Report to who? All of the hyper-augments were on the planet’s surface. He had Marines and soldiers on board, but none would be a match for a Genesian. If he summoned help, he could be calling them into a certain disaster.

Instead, he lowered his wrist and edged farther back into the shadows because he was sure now that the missing parts and the Genesians were connected. He just couldn’t figure out how.

He couldn’t confront them now, but he was going to see what they were up to first, then try and follow them out until he could get some assistance.

“What could they be using the emitter heads for?”

<Any number of uses, but nothing in particular would have a high probability.>

He caught a brief sight of movement, then another. He knew the intruders were Genesians, but this confirmed it. He could hear them whisper to each other but was having a hard time making out what they were saying.

Their laughter, though, cut through the warehouse several times. Whoever was laughing was shushed by the others.

What the heck are they doing? They’re not being particularly stealthy.

But maybe they thought that with the company and the civilians on the planet, they wouldn’t be at risk of discovery.

They made their way straight to where the rest of the emitter heads were. “There they are. Grab ten more.”

There was something off with the voice, but Rev didn’t dwell on that. He was angry that the Genesians were stealing from the rest of them.

“Why don’t we take them all?” one of the others asked.

“No. We need to leave some here. Just don’t break any more, and we’re good.

Rev was crouched slightly so he could see out from behind the racks. A Genesian walked right in front of him, followed by three more. They stopped in front of the parts, and the first one reached into the shelf, which exposed his chest, giving Rev a clear view.

“What if these things are needed for the ship?” one of them asked.

The one reaching out grabbed a carton and started removing them. “These things? What’re they good for? Besides, the meats can just make more if they have to.”

The voice and decorations on the shell’s chest registered with Rev, and he reacted before he realized it. With a quick movement, he stepped around the end of the rack and charged the four Genesians.

“Run!” one of them shouted, and the four bolted like a fluffle of rabbits.

They were quick, but they hadn’t thought of an escape route. Two bumped into each other, and as one of them recovered and tried to get around him, Rev locked his arm around the immature Genesian’s wrist.

“Let go!” the boy shouted in panic as he struggled, but he was no match for an IBHU Marine.

Peering through the racks at them, Rev had forgotten that the shells for the Genesian children were the same size as for the adults. But they were basic models without all of the practical features of the adults’ shells.

And he remembered one thing from something Punch told him. Juvenile shells were powered down.

It made sense. They were human, after all, and kids didn’t have emotional control. No one wanted a full-strength child throwing a temper tantrum.

Rev had no problem restraining the struggling child. He pulled him close and said, “Stop it. You aren’t going anywhere, and all you’re doing is making a fool of yourself.”

Which had exactly zero effect.

The juvenile Genesian threw himself against the nearest rack, then kicked Rev. Powered down or not, it hurt, and with one quick move, Rev swept the young Genesian’s legs out from under him, then levered up the arm, effectively trapping him on the ground.

“I’ve got your friend. Get back here,” he shouted.

He heard some furtive whispering, but no one showed themselves.

“I’m the commander of the ground forces on this ship.” The one he’d caught started struggling, and Rev gave his arm a jerk. “And if you don’t come here, I’m taking your buddy to Jazit Eleven myself.”

His captive immediately stopped struggling.

There was some more whispering, and a female voice asked, “What are you going to do with us?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

There was no backing down in the voice.

“It depends on how long you keep me waiting. Five . . . four . . . three . . .”

“Wait! We’re coming.”

Two of the young Genesians stepped into the row between the racks. One had a butterfly decal across the chest, which could be typical for any young human, except this was a butterfly from hell with fangs dripping blood. The other had more subdued geometric designs.

“Where’s the other one?” Rev asked.

“Come on, Rar.”

From the other side, another Genesian appeared.

For a moment, Rev wondered if they were going to try and overpower him. But even four to one, even with him being injured, he wasn’t too concerned over his safety. He was concerned with theirs. He was a combat Marine. They were kids. But with four of them, and taking their shells into consideration, he might have to use more force than he wanted to.

“What are you going to do?” the girl—the one with Satan’s butterfly—asked again.

“Why are you stealing emitter heads?” he asked, ignoring the question.

Let them sweat.

“They’re not even important!” Rev’s captive said. When Rev increased the pressure against the arm joint, he shrieked.

Rev didn’t want to actually hurt any of them, so he let up. He wasn’t going to let go, though.

“Why are you stealing them?”

“We aren’t,” the girl said. “We’re borrowing them.”

It was obvious that she was the ringleader here, so Rev focused his attention on her.

“Borrowing them. I don’t see any requisitions slips. Do you?”

“We were going to bring them back. Honest.”

He didn’t believe that one iota, so he switched tacks. “How did you get in here? This is a secured area.”

The Genesian youth next to her buzzed, then said, “As if. Child’s play to hack.”

Rev was going to argue that the warehouse was pretty secure, but their mere presence, and given that they were children, gave credence to his words.

“Well, you didn’t think to hack the inventory system now, did you.”

The girl turned to the boy and said, “Dayha!”

“I thought I did!”

That made sense, though. The warehouse was tied into the ship’s security, but this one was for routine supplies, and it wasn’t a high priority. The inventory system, though, was much more secure. The kid had screwed up.

But that didn’t answer why they were stealing the emitter heads.

Keeping his prisoner pinned on the deck, he reached over with his prosthetic arm and pulled one of the parts out of the carton. It was pretty innocuous for something that had caused so many problems.

It was about seven centimeters long with a three-centimeter in diameter intake. The main body had a series of dividers, and six smaller openings sprouted out of the other side. Rev couldn’t see them, but a tiny impeller fed each of the smaller openings.

The part was used to distribute liquids ranging from food bases to lubricants and many things in between. The boy had been correct when he said the ship’s printers could make new ones if needed, but the design meant that they were far more efficiently and cheaply made through injection molding, and the quality and reliability would be significantly better. As with many such relatively inexpensive parts, it was easier just to bring them along instead of trying to print them.

Rev turned it over slowly, trying to figure out why these kids had broken into the warehouse to steal them.

“I asked you before. Why did you steal these?”

“Borrow,” the girl said.

“OK, then, why did you borrow them?”

The girl and the boy faced each other, and Rev wondered if they had comms.

“Just tell him,” Rev’s captive said.

“We were . . . we didn’t plan to take them. Borrow them,” the girl said. “We were just exploring. This ship is boooooriiiing!”

“That’s not why you took them.”

“No. We were just looking around, seeing what was here, and when we saw these, we just—”

“Nee!” the fourth kid, a girl, finally spoke. “He’s not going to do anything to us. It’d be war.”

Rev slowly turned around to face her. “You’re so sure what I will and what I won’t do?” he asked.

“It’s OK,” the girl—Nee—said.

“When we saw these, well, they were perfect for a rumspringa espieglerie.”

“What the heck is she talking about?”

<A rumpsringa is an old custom of youth in certain cultures of what could be called accepted misbehavior as a rite of passage. It is practiced by only a few isolated human cultures now, but it was practiced slightly more in centuries past. Espieglerie is an archaic word for hijinks or playing tricks on people. However, I have no record of the terms being used together.>

“The oldies are super wary right now, and they’re watching our supplies. But yours? They’re not looking here,” Nee said.

Shell or not, Rev could hear the growing excitement in her voice, and she got on a roll.

“So, I knew . . .”

Rev figured that whatever they were doing, Nee was at the center.

“. . . that we could use these, and some batteries and motion triggers . . .”

Only the emitter heads had shown up missing. If they took batteries and triggers, then maybe Dayha hadn’t done such a poor job of covering their tracks.

“. . . make a booby trap.” Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial tone. “Do you know how hard it is to remove RS-4 from a shell?” she asked.

He had no idea what RS-4 was, but he doubted it was anything pleasant.

“Not really.”

“It takes forever.”

Rev stood there for a moment. She was using terms he wasn’t familiar with, but if he understood the gist of it, they needed the emitter heads to perform some kind of traditional practical joke. And because it was traditional, the others were expecting it and were keeping a close watch on their own equipment and supplies.

“So, you were using these for a practical joke,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Or we were until you caught us.”

“He caught Sam,” Rar said.

“Who were you going to do this to?”

“The guiding oldies. Roni Six, Yannapo Six, Wot Five, Kurt Four, Men-”

“Kurt Four? My Kurt Four?”

“There’s only one Kurt Four,” Nee said, sounding confused.

“You were going to spray Kurt Four as part of this rumspringa espy . . . espiegawhatever tradition?”

“Everyone in the guidance cell, when they conclave. It was going to be epic!”

Rev just stood there for a moment.

<No, Reverent.>

“And you’re gonna return the emitters. And the batteries and triggers and anything else you borrowed?”

Rev still didn’t believe the “borrowing” bit. But if he could get them all back, then what was the harm?

Nee immediately saw the lifeline, and she pounced. “Yes, sir! We’ll give them all back. You don’t have to tell Jazit Eleven. And we won’t do it again!”

“Promise!” Sam said from under Rev’s feet.

<Rev!>

Rev immediately released Sam’s arm. The boy scrambled to his feet.

“We can go get them now, sir,” Nee said.

“No hurry.”

That stopped her cold.

“I mean, it would be a shame to return them right now, especially after all the work you went into putting this rumspringa espieglerie together.”

He could feel four sets of artificial eyes locked in on him.

“Do you mean . . .?” Nee asked.

“I want every piece back, cleaned and undamaged. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the four of them said in unison.

“And one more condition.”

“Sir?” Nee asked warily.

“I want you to record it. I want to see Kurt Four get spluged!”

* * *

“I’d like to take 403 offline. There are some conduction readings that are spiking, and Commander Norton thinks it would be better to isolate the cause now than having it go hard down later.”

Rev looked across the table to the ship’s first lieutenant who said, “I don’t think it’s anything serious, but better safe than sorry.”

“If we needed it for an emergency evacuation?”

Norton shook his head. “Once we get into her, we can’t really rush her back. It’ll be a full week.”

It really wasn’t up to Rev. The shuttles belonged to Captain Nyad, and they were briefing Rev only as a courtesy.

It wasn’t as if having one shuttle deadlined would preclude getting the expedition back. The other shuttle and landing craft could handle it. And after ten days on the surface, there didn’t seem to be much of any kind of threat.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Rev said. “I’ll let the top know so he can adjust.”

“Do you have anything for me before we start?” the ship’s CO asked.

“Did we change out the security on W-4 yet?”

Nyad gave Rev a penetrating look. “You’re still not going to tell me why?”

Rev just shook his head.

“Lovers gotta love,” Command Master Chief Umman said.

Rev shrugged. If they wanted to think that couples were breaking into the warehouse for trysts, then he was fine with that. W-4 housed Marine supplies, so while it was a ship space, Rev had control over it, and the decision was his.

“People need someplace,” Lieutenant Commander Norton said. “But we’ll have the new security in tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

Wolf came in, and Rev gave him a non-committal nod. He hadn’t had any contact with the man since he’d gone with him and the girls to the Starburst, and he hadn’t really decided where he stood with the agent. Maybe it was just better to steer clear of him unless it was official business.

“When’s the next torp coming?” Umman asked. “I want to see the Herras Cup finals.”

“They sent it, Hank. We didn’t get it,” Nyad said.

“Well, fuck it all,” Umman said, slamming his fist on the table. “They’d better be sending a replacement ASAP.”

Out in the galaxy’s boonies, the q-communications had proven to be problematic, just like they’d been toward the center of the galaxy during the Naxli War. Theoretically, where they were shouldn’t matter. But Mother Nature didn’t care much for theories.

To get around that, Titan had started sending message torps on a weekly basis. Aside from the routine admin that took up too much bandwidth to keep sending via q-comms, the latest and greatest in entertainment for the expedition’s personnel was included.

And no matter the situation back in human space, no matter the hostilities that had broken out, corporate humanity was going to keep their sports going come hell or high water. Each major event represented too much profit to be thrown away just because of a little bit of death and destruction.

Rev didn’t follow airfly that much, but quite a few people did, and the Herras Cup was the sport’s universal championship. Despite not following the sport, though, Rev would probably have gotten together in the chiefs’ mess to watch if he could have gotten a sitter for the girls.

It wasn’t as if he had a lot of other ways to relax.

“I bet Tarlinham won,” Umman said.

“You willing to put money on it, Hank?” Norton asked.

The command master chief suddenly looked wary. “You wouldn’t have gotten the score via the q-comms just now, would you?”

“Not me. I just think Chanpur’s going to win.”

“I bet Norton got the score already, and he’s suckering Umman,” Rev told Punch.

<His eyes dilated when he said he hadn’t. Although that is not proof he was lying.>

Rev didn’t care. He wasn’t going to bet, and if Umman got taken as a sucker, well, he was fine with that.

The hatch opened, and the Genesians entered. Rev had been waiting for them to arrive. He’d tipped the chair next to him up against the conference table to keep anyone else from taking it. And as Kurt Four followed the others, Rev waved him over.

Kurt acted surprised, but after a moment’s hesitation, he split from the others and sat down.

Dr. Njuguna hadn’t made her entrance yet, so Rev had a few moments and didn’t have to rush it.

“Are you going to go down to the surface?” he asked nonchalantly.

He knew what the answer would be, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“There’s nothing down there for us, so no,” the Genesian said.

“Oh, I was going to ask you for a favor if you were going, but never mind. No biggie.”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else, then made a show of stopping. He furrowed his eyes and frowned, then leaned into Kurt and loudly sniffed.

“Hmm.”

Genesians were not huggers, and they seemed to avoid contact. But Rev reached out with his right hand and ran his forefinger along Kurt’s chest.

The Genesian recoiled slightly, but as he was sitting, he couldn’t dart out of the way. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just . . . well, I’ve got some cleaning solutions that can take care of whatever you got into. I’d be happy to send you some.”

Kurt froze, which was a lot different from his and the others’ almost panicked but ineffective attempt to avoid the hundred streams of purple, gunky liquid that sprayed their conclave.

Nee had kept her end of the bargain, delivering both the missing parts and a recording of their espieglerie, the images which were now burned into Rev’s mind, much to his delight.

“I do not need to be cleaned,” Kurt said in a measured voice.

“Oh, OK. I just thought, you know, the smell . . .”

The hatch opened, and Njuguna and Hyung entered. Rev had a few more zingers planned, but it looked like the meeting was about to start.

Before he turned away from Kurt, and with as much innocence as he could muster, he said, “I was just with my girls, you know. They scribbled all over the bulkheads in my stateroom this morning with purple crayons.”

Kurt wasn’t paying attention to him, at least until Rev said, “At least they’re still small and can’t do much damage for now. I wonder what deviltry they’ll manage during their rumspringa?”

20

Rev grunted and shifted his position. Every day, his body healed more—except for what had become a permanent cant at the back. Dr. Rima said his body would adjust in time, but he wasn’t so sure. The entire support system that had been put into his body so he could employ his IBHU was a highly designed system. Expecting it to do its job with full efficiency was like assuming you could take a sledgehammer to a shuttle’s impulse engines and expect it to work correctly.

Could it still fly? Maybe. But not as efficiently and effectively as before.

That was Rev’s back. He could still function, but not as well.

The team that descended to the surface was returning in two days. Rev would make sure that all the post-expedition procedures were on their way, and then with a little more time he could spare, he was going to don Pashu for the first time since the accident. That was going to be telling. Would he be able to function as an IBHU Marine, or was he relegated to be a POG?

Rev felt guilty about even bringing up the term in his mind. As a SNCO, and more so since he’d assumed many of Top Klipsinger’s responsibilities while the master sergeant was on the surface, he realized how vital “POGs” were to every aspect of the Marine mission.

But Rev was a Direct Combat Marine, and he was used to the superiority DC Marines anointed upon themselves. It was stupid and childish, but he couldn’t help it.

It was also unhealthy, as Rima had said when Rev made an offhand and disparaging comment about him becoming a staff POG. If Rev put all of his self-image on the fact that he was a DC IBHU Marine, then what would it mean if he was no longer able to function as one?

The numbers on the screen started to merge together, and now a headache joined the pain in his back.

“This sucks!” he shouted to his empty office.

His wristcomp took that moment to buzz, and Rev saw with relief that Captain Nyad wanted to see him. Normally, meetings with the ship’s CO were anything but enjoyable, but as long as it could pull him away from paperwork, he was all for it.

He left his office, making a minor diversion to check on the girls in the nursery. Willow was pretend-reading to Tsao and Strap’s daughter Electra, while Aspen was gibbering with Moses, the first boy born on the ship, son of two of the civilians. Several other babies were toddling or cruising along, and others were napping. One of the two people on nursery duty was changing a diaper, and the other was watching something on his pad.

Neither girl looked up at him, which was a disappointment, so he backed out and headed for Nyad’s stateroom. The hatch was open, and he stuck his head in. Njuguna was sitting with Nyad in the small seating area. Both looked serious, and Rev had second thoughts about whatever this was. He’d been happy to get the break, but maybe he wasn’t going to like this, whatever it was.

“Sergeant Major, come on in,” Captain Nyad said after spotting him half in and half out of the hatch. “Please, sit.”

Like a Marine walking into an ambush, Rev warily approached and took the proffered seat.

Njuguna said nothing.

Rev sat and asked, “What’s up?”

Nyad cleared his throat and said, “We got the message torp in a couple of hours ago.”

“Thank the Mother. I think we might have had a mutiny if we couldn’t find out who won the Herras,” Rev said with a forced chuckle.

Neither of the other two laughed.

“There was a message for the Marines. All hands, actually, but particularly for the Marines. But we wanted to tell you face to face before it became public knowledge.”

If Rev was wary before, all of his defenses were immediately erected. “What is it?”

“It’s about Lieutenant Colonel Bundy. I’m afraid he’s passed.”

Rev just stared at him, his mind numb.

“I’m so sorry, Rev,” Njuguna said. “I know you were close.”

“Passed? As in died?” Rev asked, feeling as if he’d just been run over by a Paladin.

“I’m afraid so,” Nyad said.

“But . . . how? Where?”

“The rot. As to where, well, on New Mars.”

“No, that can’t be. He was going back to Safe Harbor. To be with his grandkids,” Rev protested, ignoring the key part of the message.

If he could argue about the details and prove them wrong, then maybe the entire thing was wrong, and he didn’t have to confront the main issue.

“We only have what was in the message, but evidently, Colonel Bundy didn’t make it to Safe Harbor. He had some sort of medical emergency, and well, I’m sure you know that Rehm is the flagship hospital. I guess they thought it was better to treat him there.”

“They thought it was better?” Rev snapped. “I guess they were wrong.”

Rev leaned back and closed his eyes while his mind raced to make sense of what he’d been told. He knew his friend was sick, and the intellectual side of his mind realized that Bundy probably wasn’t long for this corporeal plane. But not so soon.

And maybe not even then. He’d been holding out hope that the advances in medical technology could defeat the rot. Not only for Bundy, but selfishly, for him. He needed a miracle, too, and one that could be performed on the ship.

The image of his two daughters in the nursery ignoring him and carrying on as if he wasn’t there flashed through his mind, and he felt nauseous and broke out into a sweat. He raised his right hand to wipe his brow before he realized it was trembling.

Rev stared at the hand for a moment, unable to control it. Finally, he lowered the arm and stuck his hand under his thigh.

“Are you OK, Rev?” Njuguna asked. “Do you want some water?”

Rev took several deep breaths, then shook his head. He was afraid that if he tried to drink, he’d vomit it back up.

He was angry and sad and mourning the loss of his friend, but that was almost overshadowed by self-pity and, yes, fear. And making this about him, in his mind, filled him with almost unbearable guilt.

You just lost your best friend, and you’re worried about yourself? Come on, Reverent.

<Do you want something?>

Rev didn’t like to take mood-altering drugs, but sometimes, a person was pushed too far.

“Yes, please.”

A moment later, like a warm blanket being put over him, his mind-snapping anxiety faded. He was still upset, still sad. But he wasn’t about to run screaming from the stateroom.

“Are you OK?” Njuguna asked again.

Rev nodded. “This was just so sudden.”

“If there’s anything we can do . . .” Captain Nyad said.

Rev started to say there was nothing, but then he changed his mind. “If you could hold this to your chests for now, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to tell the company in person, up here on the ship.”

And tell Tomiko first.

Captain Nyad looked at Njuguna and said, “I think we can do that. You tell us when.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He sat there for a moment, looking at the other two, who were looking back at him. No one evidently knew what to say.

Rev couldn’t just sit there. Drugs calming him or not, he had to get away from them.

He stood and said, “Thank you for telling me. But I’ve got a lot more to do before the company gets back the day after tomorrow.”

He nodded at both and walked out of the stateroom. But he didn’t go back to his office. He turned right, instead, and broke out into a jog toward the nursery.

Right now, he had to hold his two girls.

21

<Point-six-two seconds.>

Rev groaned. “Again.”

He took a deep breath, then started walking, his eyes scanning the jungle. The undergrowth was thick, so there wasn’t going to be any warning.

His heart was in his throat as he advanced, his nerves about ready to explode.

Rev caught the movement to the left. He pushed off toward his right while swinging Pashu around and triggering a burst from his twenty. The Naxli warrior exploded into a satisfying mini-nova.

He relaxed, closed his eyes, and waited for the verdict.

<Point-seven-three seconds.>

“Crap, I’m getting worse.”

<Do you want to reset?>

He let out a deep breath and shook his head. “No. I think I’m done.”

The jungle disappeared, a bare gray wall taking its place. Rev gingerly stepped off the raised platform of the treadmill. His back was aching—no surprise there—and all he needed now was to injure it stepping down twenty-five centimeters.

“What was my average time?”

<Twenty-three runs at an average acquisition time of zero-point-seven seconds.>

“I slipped on the thirteenth or fourteenth time. How about if you remove that one?”

<Zero-point-six-three seconds.>

“And my average before?”

<Excluding your initial training, your combined Close Combat Reaction Course time to target acquisition was zero-point-two-nine seconds.>

“So, about double,” Rev said as he stepped toward the console to the on-deck bench and sat down.

“And Pashu, she was normal? I mean, she’s been on the shelf for a couple of months. Maybe we should take her back to Daryll for a tune-up?”

<Your IBHU was working well within previous parameters.>

Rev sighed. He’d expected that. No, the slowdown was on him. He wasn’t sure if it was the injury or the rot. Maybe a combination of the two. But he was slower on the draw.

Zero-point-six seconds wasn’t horrible for most infantry Marines or soldiers. It was actually quite average. But with his hyper-augments, it was glacial for him. And unless he could find ways to alleviate the issues, it could be the start of a long, slow decline of his combat capabilities.

“I’m getting old, Punch.”

<Then you have to be crafty. Use your experience.>

Rev let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I’d rather be the toughest son of a bitch in the valley, Punch.”

<You know the saying about there being old Marines and bold Marines, but there are—>

“. . . no old, bold Marines. Yeah, I know it. But still, this is kinda disappointing. I was hoping the numbers would be better.”

<Maybe now you’ll act the commander instead of the rifleman.>

“I might not have any choice.”

He knew that wasn’t exactly true. Yes, his abilities had taken a hit. But Pashu was still a hellaciously effective weapon. If he could employ her, she could still spit a reaper’s scythe of ill intention downrange.

He sat there for a moment, just relaxing. Aside from evaluating just where he was, it had been good to pop some caps. No matter how much stress there might be from everything else, Rev was still a Marine, and Marines loved to fire their weapons. Seeing electronic Naxli explode had been good for his soul.

The comms on his face shield alerted, and Rev rolled his eyes. Just when he was feeling a little better, he was being dragged into the rigmarole of command again. He opened the connection, but instead of Tye or Nyad, it was Tomiko.

“Here.”

“I saw the trainer go offline. How’d you do?”

“Uh . . . not so great. I have an average AT of point-six-three.”

“That’s not that bad. I’ve got an AT of point-five-one.”

Rev bit his tongue. As much as he loved Tomiko, she was probably the weakest IBHU in existence. It wasn’t really her fault. She was also the newest IBHU, and she’d had by far the least training and real-world experience with hers. Throw in that she was the smallest IBHU, just a little smaller than Randigold, there was less of her to throw around her IBHU than someone Rev’s size, for example. Hyper-augments or not, she had been a very small woman to begin with.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t want me there,” Tomiko said. “And I could have gotten in some simulator time, too. Mother knows I need it.”

“Maybe next time, Miko. Which reminds me. It’s about time we put everyone through their quals. Just because we’re exiles doesn’t mean we’re gonna forget that.”

“I already started putting together a matrix of training requirements.”

“OK, then. You’re several steps ahead of me.”

“As usual. Are you heading back now? Should I keep the girls up for you?”

Rev looked around the bare space. It had been nice to get away from everything for an hour, but it was time to get going.

“Daryll’s waiting for me to drop off Pashu, but I’ll head back right after that. Give me twenty minutes.”

“OK. I’ll keep them up for daddy.”

She cut the connection, and Rev said, “I guess that’s it, Punch my friend. Back to the grind.”

<I don’t think Tomiko would appreciate you calling Willow and Aspen “the grind.”>

Rev laughed as he stood up. “Then let’s not tell her.”

He ordered the field training simulator to stand down, then headed to the hatch. “Main lights, off,” he said.

The training space went dark, with only the blue security lights providing illumination. Rev gave one last visual sweep of the space, manually undogged the door, then pushed it open into the well-lit passage on the other side.

The explosion enveloped Rev, thrusting him into darkness. Blinded, Rev raised Pashu and deployed his blade, ready for anything.

“Come get me, you bastards,” he snarled as he listened for charging feet.

But then his vision started to return. Vision tinged with purple. And not coming into focus, but as if the blindness was dripping away.

His face shield’s electrostatic barrier seemed to be sloughing off whatever had blinded him. Rev raised his right hand and wiped at his face shield. It was marginally better at helping clear some clumps of the purple away.

He looked at Pashu. She was covered in what looked to be purple syrup—

Purple syrup?

By the Mother!

A dispenser of some type was on the deck, facing the door. Purple goo dripped from a wide-rimmed nozzle.

Rev looked up and down the passage. There wasn’t anyone in sight. But there was a small drone approaching. Not a Marine drone. Not a Navy drone.

A Genesian drone.

It flew up to Rev, stopping two meters short—to keep out of his reach, he figured—where it hovered, the tiny lens locked onto him.

“Eat me, Kurt,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

The drone buzzed, sounding exactly like Genesian laughter. It scooted back a few meters, stopped, then shot away and out of sight.

Bastard.

It could have been Nee and her partners in crime, but Rev knew it was Kurt paying him back.

OK, if that’s how it is, stand the fuck by, genny.

“Is this stuff damaging my PAL?”

<I don’t think so. There’re no readings that would indicate your combat suit’s been damaged. But it’s covered with what I assume is RS-4.>

“That’s a pretty good assumption.”

Rev called up Tomiko. “Honey? I think you’d better put the girls to bed. I’m going to be occupied for the next couple of hours at a minimum.”

“Why? What happened? Do you need me?”

“No, you stay with the girls. I’ll bring you up to speed later.”

“But—”

He cut her off. He might suffer because of that later, but he wasn’t in any mood to tell her what had happened just yet.

Rev stood there at the door to the training space. Purple goop slowly dripped off him to add to the purple wave that covered the bulkheads, overhead, and deck. Not only was he going to have to clean Pashu and his PAL, but he’d have to get this cleaned up, too.

I think a couple of hours was being overly optimistic.

The only saving grace was that this area was adjacent to the armory. At this time of the evening, Rev might be able to make it there without anyone seeing him.

“No use waiting. I might as well face Daryll and get it over with,” he muttered as he stepped off.

22

Rev ran the camera in a 180.

“By the Mother, Rev. You’re even,” Tomiko said as she stood behind him.

“We’re not even,” he muttered as he studied the passage. “I’ll get him back.”

But it was clear, and he opened the door. Nothing happened, and he turned to pick up Willow . . . or Aspen.

“Let’s go swimming, baby girl,” he said.

He stuck out his head and looked both ways, then stepped out. Tomiko carried the other daughter as they made their way to the hangar deck. Shrieks of excited laughter greeted them as they entered, and whichever girl he was carrying perked up, craning her head to see what was going on.

It looked like they were the last ones to arrive. There were twelve children on the ship, and six more were on the way. It was a veritable baby explosion.

Seven of the children were infants, while the others had graduated to toddler status.

“Down!” his daughter said as she squirmed in his arm.

He let her slide to the deck, and she immediately ran to the large container that had been placed by the Shrike. Rev didn’t know if it had been repurposed for the event or had been manufactured, but it looked like it was functioning perfectly well as a giant kiddie pool.

Dr. Rima was in her element, standing in the pool in a pair of black shorts and a tattered pink shirt as she played with the other toddlers.

Her eyes perked up as she saw the girl. “Willow, come on in!”

Willow didn’t hesitate, at least in trying. But the lip of the pool was a little high, and Rev had to pick her up again and lift her over and into the water. She clasped her hands to her chest, her eyes filled with wonderment, before she gave a tiny kick with one leg.

That was all she wrote. With a shriek of joy, she started jumping up and down and splashing the water with all her might. Rev broke out into laughter.

He hadn’t been too sure about the pool day. This was Rima’s brainchild. She’d insisted to the expedition’s triumvirate that the children needed different stimulation, then pulled up far more research, going back to the century ships days about childhood development in space-going ships.

Rev had merely gone along with it as easier than arguing, but seeing Willow, he realized that Rima was right. And even if she wasn’t, his daughter was sure enjoying it.

She was now jumping like a jerboa, and she splashed Petty Officer Sen, who was sitting in the water with her infant son in her lap.

“Sorry,” Rev said as he snatched Willow and moved her to the side. As soon as he let her go, though, the girl was off again.

But he had two daughters. He turned to where Aspen was at the edge of the pool and looked on with suspicion while Tomiko knelt beside her and tried to convince her to go in. He gave Willow another glance. The water was only knee-deep to her, so he shifted over to Aspen.

“Don’t you want to go in?” he asked her.

“No!”

“It’s fun. Look at your sister.”

She shook her head.

Rev and Tomiko exchanged worried glances. Aspen was the cautious one of the two—too cautious, in their opinions, despite the research saying that was probably normal.

Rev was a Marine. Tomiko was a Marine. So, why would their daughter be frightened of so many things?

“What if I go in, too?”

“No.”

“It’s worth a try,” Tomiko said.

Rev hadn’t planned on getting in the pool, but he pulled off his shoes and stepped over the side and into the water. He faced his reluctant daughter over the edge.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked.

She shook her head, her eyes locked on the vast ocean in front of her.

“Try holding her,” Tomiko said.

Rev stepped back out and picked her up. “See, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She clung to him like a lamprey as Willow bounced up, splashed them, and bounced away again. Aspen carefully wiped a few drops off her arm.

“Just go in,” Tomiko said.

Rev wasn’t sure that was the best thing, but he stepped over the edge.

“No!” Aspen said as she tightened her hold to a death grip.

“Easy little girl,” Rev said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “Everything’s OK.”

He was ready to step out if she melted down, but while she retained her hold around his neck, she started peeking at the other children.

“See? It’s fun.”

He squatted, moving her bare feet close to the water. She bent her legs to put more distance between her and the liquid monster.

Tomiko joined him. “Let me try,” she said, taking her.

His wife was much shorter than he was, so that meant Aspen was closer.

Willow bounded up and demanded, “Upside down!”

Rev grabbed her by the waist and twisted her around. She shrieked and reached out for the water. He lowered her until her hands touched, and she started splashing.

“Upside down” was right up there with being chased as one of their favorite things.

Rev gave Aspen a sideways glance and said, “Do you want the upside down?”

His daughter might be wary, but the lure of upside down was too great. She reached out to him.

Rev spun Willow around and stood her up, then took Aspen from Tomiko’s arms. “Upside down!” he shouted, then spun her around.

Aspen laughed, which was cut off as Rev lowered her. She withdrew her arms and held them to her chest as she got closer.

Rev stopped with her still fifteen centimeters away, and the curiosity must have been too much because she cautiously reached out until her hand touched the surface. She immediately jerked the hand back, but only for a moment before she reached out again.

The door was open a crack. It took another three minutes of calm progress, but finally, Aspen was standing in the water on her own. She even hesitantly splashed Rev, who dramatically overreacted and “fell” down on his butt.

Willow, Aspen, and Tsao and Strap’s Electra thought that was the height of humor.

All three started climbing on him, and for the first time in weeks, Rev forgot about the stress of command, his injuries, the rot, and Bundy. He was just having fun.

When the girls drifted off in their games—his two leading and Electra and now Moses following the older girls—Rev waded to Rima.

“I’ve got to say, you were right. This is good for them.”

“I’m so glad you approve,” she said with her hands on her hips.

“No, really. I thought it would be fun for them, but it’s good for their development.”

“Nice to know that all my training might not have been in vain.”

“Ah, you know what I mean.”

“What about you? How’s this doing for your rehab?”

Rev twisted his back from side to side. “You know, not bad. No real pain.”

“Imagine that,” Rima said with a harumph.

“Why is this water purple?” Kelly said as she stepped up to the two.

Rev rolled his eyes, and Rima said, “Purple? It’s been filtered!”

She cupped her hand in the water and lifted it, letting the water flow back. “It doesn’t look purple.”

“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Rev told Rima. “She’s just being a dick.”

Rev had wanted to keep his little event a secret, but Tomiko had told Kelly, and Kelly . . . well, it wasn’t a secret anymore. Hopefully, it was only known among a select few Marines and not the entire ship, but he was resigned to the fact that it would eventually get out.

“I don’t get it,” Rima said. “The water’s clear.”

“I’m not sure about clear,” Kelly said. “There’re a lot of diapers here, after all.”

“I’ve got sanitizers running,” Rima protested.

“Don’t give her a second thought, Iris. Like I said, she’s a dick.” He shifted to Kelly. “And what are you doing here anyway? This is for kids and parents of kids. Or soon-to-be parents,” he said with a nod to the eight-month pregnant Annie Kneigest, who was sitting in the water chatting with Lance Corporal Sumahara.

“It’s a party, and we’re always up for that.”

It was only then that he realized that there had to be fifty or sixty adults socializing throughout the hangar. Most were near the kiddy pool, watching the children.

There were also forty to fifty Kanters under the Shrike, their eyes eagerly locked onto the pool. Rima had already told him that they’d have the pool at 1700, and evidently, these early birds couldn’t stay away in their excitement.

Take away the Shrike. Take away Shuttle 403. Take away the Kanters. Add grass and a few trees, and this could be any park back in Swansea. It was a sort of town center for the ship.

Rev wasn’t a psychologist or social anthropologist, but it seemed to him that this was an important development. The kids probably helped, giving the place a feel of normalcy—and given their status as exiles, that was doubly important for their mental health.

A screech interrupted his thoughts. Moses had fallen down—or possibly been pushed down by a concerned-looking Willow—and had dunked his head. One of the civilians lunged forward and pulled the boy up, then handed him to his father.

Within seconds, the general hubbub was back in force, the incident forgotten except for Moses.

As always, life went on.

23

“Look at that sucker,” Command Master Chief Umman said in awe.

The storm was huge, a whirling, demonic force of nature that covered a third of the hemisphere. Storms on gas giants could be bigger, but this was on a planet slightly smaller than Mars. Percentagewise, Rev didn’t think he’d ever seen anything bigger.

The one thing he did know was that he didn’t want to go anywhere near it. Unfortunately, he was in the minority. Fortunately, he had the final say.

But he was getting a lot of pressure from Njuguna and the rest of her team.

NP-72771 had proven to be a surprise. Indications were that there could be a Goldilocks planet in the system, but upon their arrival, that proved not to be the case. However, the NP-72771-5 was an anomaly. The early analysis was that it was a much larger planet. It was only after the Galaxy Explorer’s arrival in the system that they realized the planet was much, much smaller than they’d thought. And that piqued the scientists’ curiosity.

Once Dr. Clyburn flew the Shrike around the planet to check for bad guys, Dr. Njuguna had asked Captain Nyad for a more detailed fly-by, and they’d turned every instrument they had on the planet. They’d discovered that it was much denser than most planets, with a large amount of metallic content.

The density was something the civilians wanted to examine. The metallic content was something Titan wanted to assay.

Rev could understand Njuguna’s team. They’d agreed to stay with the expedition to broaden mankind’s knowledge, and this planet was something out of the ordinary. Titan’s interest was not as obvious. Sure, metals were valuable. But there were hundreds, if not thousands, of metal-rich planets and asteroids much, much closer to home. This system was way beyond any existing supply chain.

Unless there was something totally unique about the planet’s resources, it wouldn’t make sense to go all the way out here for what could be mined and processed closer in.

“What do you think, Sergeant Major?” Njuguna asked.

“Those winds are going 450 KPH at the center,” Rev said. “That would destroy any camp we set up.”

“I don’t think Dr. Njuguna means let’s land in the middle of that,” Captain Nyad said. “After the storm dies down.”

“And you’d trust your Charon to make the drop?”

“Once again, Sergeant Major, after the storm. No one is suggesting we land there now.”

Rev watched the storm. He could almost see it rotate in real-time. The storm’s malevolent eye seemed to stare at him, daring him to make the landing.

But Nyad was right. The storm wasn’t going to last forever, and if it dissipated, then how was it different than any of the other planets where weather was a factor? And it wasn’t as if the entire planet was enveloped in the storm.

“Titan is recommending that we proceed. They want assays at four points,” Njuguna said.

Four different sites. Four setups and teardowns.

At least, with no life forms detected, the Lamix barriers could stay on the ship. That was one fewer thing to worry about.

Rev felt uneasy about this planet. But he didn’t have a solid reason to nix the landing. And in the back of his mind, he wondered if his accident the last time he made planetfall was making him gun-shy.

He glanced at Lee Four, the Genesian rep at the meeting. But the Genesian hadn’t said anything. The planet wasn’t habitable, so their interest in it was nil. He wasn’t going to get any support from them.

“As you said, Captain, we’re not landing now. Let’s put any decision off for the moment until we see what that storm’s going to do. If it peters out, then we can think about making a landing.”

“That’s what I was hoping for, Sergeant Major,” Dr. Njuguna said. “Let’s see what happens.”

With that, the decision was made. They’d monitor the planet’s weather and then decide if a landing was warranted.

The meeting broke up, and Rev headed back to his office. But a nagging thought kept forcing itself on Rev.

At the moment, all of the five arms of the expedition were carefully abiding by the agreements put in place to run the expedition. But with Titan pressuring them to proceed to the planet’s surface, what would happen if Rev put his foot down and said no?

One of the earliest lessons Rev had learned about leadership was to never put Marines in a position where they’d disobey orders. Maybe that was what Rev was flirting with now. If he said no, the mission was scrubbed. Would the others go along with that, or would the façade that he was in charge of security crumble away into the mist?

* * *

“You feeling OK?” Tomiko asked over the P2P.

“I feel great.”

He felt excited, was more like it. He was happy to be back in the saddle, no longer an invalid. He was still gimpy, and too long on his feet would light his back on fire, but this should be a pretty routine mission. There was a low probability that his limitations would have any effect on his job.

The storm on Bundy—Rev and Tomiko had asked that the planet be named for their friend, and both Nyad and Njuguna had agreed—had dissipated in record time. One moment, it was blowing with more force than any recorded storm on the Mother, and seven minutes later, it was gone.

Rev had been summoned to the CIC to clear the landing, and after thirty minutes of weather-related readings, he’d given the OK.

He’d been hesitant while watching the storm, but now that the decision had been made, Rev had gotten into the spirit of things. This was a routine mission. But it was the first one for him since the accident, and he wanted things to go off without a hitch.

It wouldn’t be easy. With four locations to examine, that meant four different movements on the planet’s surface and with only two craft. Shuttle 403 was still offline. Hopefully, it would be back in service in time to assist the movement to the third location, but that was still up in the air.

To compensate, and taking into consideration the fact that there had been no sign of life, the expedition was going to be with a limited crew. Thirteen Marines would accompany twenty-six civilians. Technically still the security element, the Marines would also be assisting with any of the heavy grunt work that had to be done.

The Genesians weren’t interested, and the Kanters agreed that they would at least initially cede the mission to the humans. Once 403 was back online, they might send down one of their own teams.

With limited boat spaces, competition to go down had been fierce, and Rev had to make a lot of difficult choices. One of the hardest was to leave Tomiko off. But she’d taken it much better than he’d expected.

While donning their PALs, Kelly had confided in him that Tomiko was fine with his decision. With top running things on the ship, she was going to step back a bit and spend more time with the girls.

Tomiko had always been super gung-ho since Rev had known her, so it was still difficult for him to really understand that she was now a mother, and that opened another facet of her life.

“Just take it easy, OK?” she passed. “Don’t try to prove that you’re at 100%. You’ve got Kelly with you. Let her take some of the burden.”

“I will. You just love the girls for me.”

“That won’t be hard to do,” she said before cutting the connection.

Rev looked down the passenger bay. Supplies were lined up along the middle, flanked on either side by the two rows of seats. Kelly, Randigold, and Rev were the only IBHUs, and they were the main element within the security force. Four more Marines, four karnans, and two Legionnaires made up the rest. Twelve civilians filled out the craft. The Charon landing craft was going to get them to the surface, then stay on site while the camp was erected and the shuttle brought in the rest.

“Prepare for departure,” came over the net.

Rev felt his heart flutter. Routine or not, he was ready to get this show on the road.

24

“The second shelter’s up,” Kelly reported. “And the power’s being connected as we speak.”

“Any issues?” Rev asked.

“Like you said, easy-peasy.”

They might be shorthanded, but they also had a smaller footprint. No Lamix, for one. But only two expeditionary shelters: one for living and the other for the scientific work.

Given the storm they’d observed from orbit the day before, Rev had ordered extra tie-downs for the shelters, but it had been an easier-than-normal set up. With the power running, the operation was ready to commence.

“Galaxy Explorer, this is Bundy 1. We’re ready for the next load,” he passed up to the ship.

“Roger that. Four-oh-nine will be given the all-clear to depart.”

And that was pretty much that. Teo, who was leading the effort for the first two locations, would soon be in charge, and Rev and the rest would be strictly in support.

The burden of command hadn’t been particularly heavy to begin with, but now, that thud Rev heard was his pack dropping off.

Don’t take it too easy, he had to remind himself. This was still an alien planet, and anything could pop up unexpectedly.

He stopped to look around. They were on a wide plain with no mountains in sight. That wouldn’t be true at the second location, but here it was a barren vista. And with the planet half the size of Safe Harbor, the horizon looked too close.

“Maybe we should have held out for something a little more spectacular to name after Bundy,” he told Punch.

<The rest of the planet had more terrain features, if that’s what you mean.>

“I don’t know. I guess, maybe a Goldilocks planet, where people might actually live someday. This . . . this isn’t much.”

<But it could have significant resources. That’s what we’re here to confirm.>

“Or disprove.”

<The planet’s density is indicative of there possibly being resources.>

Rev sniffed. The gravity felt normal to him. Yes, he understood that it should have been far less. The planet was quite small. But it was just another planet among the trillions in the galaxy. He wasn’t sure why they were spending so much time on this one.

But it wasn’t his call. In three weeks, they’d be on to the next. Then the next. And yet the next.

That was going to be the story of his life . . . and that thought reminded him of his condition. He had to acknowledge that for him, at least, there might not be many nexts.

Shake it off, buddy.

He turned away from the view and headed back to the science shelter to see if Teo needed anything from his people.

* * *

“Are you ready to pull up stakes, then, Lian?” Rev asked Teo.

The planet might not have a breathable atmosphere, but it at least had one, so the expedition members could speak to each other without resorting to the net. That made things a little easier to hold conversations.

“I think so. We’ve gathered all the readings and samples we can here before the law of diminishing returns rears its head. Most of the analysis will be done back on the Explorer and back in human space, so I think we can move on to the next location.”

“Still nothing?”

She shook her head and said, “Not nothing. But from our assay, not much, I’d say. We won’t get a bigger picture until all of the data is run.”

Rev had come to the realization that he really didn’t care one way or the other. Nothing they found here was going to change his life or the life of anyone he cared about. All he knew was that the last four days had been excruciatingly boring. After an hour of looking at a whole lot of nothing, his excitement meter had hit its zenith, and it had gone quickly downhill after that.

Rev had gone out with several of the teams, but watching the civilians take samples and readings wasn’t high on the excitement level.

If it weren’t for Punch’s vast entertainment collection and an almost round-the-clock game of Knock On, he’d probably have gone insane.

He didn’t have much hope that the next location would be much better, but at least the movement itself would take up mental and physical energy.

He told Kelly to start tearing down the camp, then called the ship to request the shuttle and landing craft to make the move.

Tearing down was done in just under an hour. That was blazingly quick, but then again, the camp was minimal, far smaller than normal. They were strapping shut the second shelter as the landing craft settled down on the LZ.

Rev left Kelly and half of his team behind at Bundy 1, and with a dozen of the civilians, he boarded the Charon. They took off just as Shuttle 409 landed. Kelly would load that with the other shelter, the rest of the equipment, and the remaining personnel and then follow.

The landing craft took off, and Rev watched the camp recede from sight.

Good riddance.

Which wasn’t really fair, he knew. As the security element, any evolution that was boring was a successful one. Forty-five, the buffalo planet, wasn’t boring, and look how that turned out.

The craft kept to the atmosphere and scooted over the landscape. Rev was in the front next to the single window, and after twenty minutes, wrinkles started to appear on the ground. Hills were next, and various colors stained the rocks.

At first, Rev thought some of the colors were from rust, but then he remembered that rust required water to form. And the colors ranged from the oranges to purples. He didn’t know what would cause that range. At least it was something interesting to see.

The hills rose higher, but instead of craggy reaches, they looked old and worn.

“Is that from the wind storms?” he asked Punch.

<That could certainly result in what we’re seeing.>

“We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes,” the pilot told Rev.

“Very well. Can you circle the LZ before we land, though? I want to get a better look at where we’ll be.”

“Roger that.”

Bundy-2 looked like it was in a river delta. But with no water, it took Rev a few minutes to figure it out. The “channels” were carved out by the wind as it flowed over and around the hills.

The landing craft came around and flared in for a landing. The passengers got immediately to work. Within fifteen minutes, the first shelter was being erected. The shuttle arrived, and the LZ was a flurry of activity.

Which, unfortunately, didn’t last long enough. Three hours and twenty-two minutes after Rev’s arrival, the first hand of what was probably going to be many Knock On games was played.

* * *

“What’s going on with the fabricator, Tye?”

“They’re sending it is all they say.”

“We’re getting a little tired of combat rats,” Rev told him.

Which was the understatement of the year. Rev and the other military personnel had gone long periods subsisting on various forms of combat rations, and at least these weren’t the despised sludge, but when the food was the highlight of the schedule for the Marines, combat rats didn’t make the grade.

The fabricator had worked fine at Bundy-1, but something went wrong in the move, and it had never worked at Bundy-2. None of the security team had any capability to repair it, even with their AIs’ assistance. Ditto with the civilians.

That was three days ago, and none of the other three expeditionary fabricators had been sent down to them.

“Did you talk to Lieutenant Nees-Pak herself?”

“Sure did. She said they were prepping it.”

“Prepping it? For three friggin’ days? Give me a break.”

Rev didn’t actually know how long it took to pull one of the fabricators out of storage and get it up and running, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t three days.

“Yeah, they’ll have it ready by the time we’re done with Bundy-4 and are coming back to the ship.”

He took a deep breath. There was no use getting mad about this, but there was something he could do.

“OK, this is what I want you to do. Go back to Nees-Pak and get a timetable. If she can’t give it to you, kinda slip that I’m going to Nyad with this. Let’s see if that doesn’t break something free.”

“Are you really going to the CO?”

“I hope it doesn’t go to that, but heck yes, if I have to. You know what I got for lunch today? Rat balls and maggots.”

“You’ve got my deepest sympathies, Rev.”

“I don’t want your sympathies,” he said with a chuckle. “I want real food!

“I’m on it. Give me an hour. Klipsinger, out.”

Kelly gave him the raised eyebrow look.

“They say they’re sending it.”

“Right, and I’ve got a good deal on vacation homes over at Bundy-1. Vast vistas. Get in on the ground floor.”

“Top’s going directly to Nees-Pak.”

“Yeah, I heard. I hope it works.” She stood up and said, “Aren’t you going out on the next flower-picking trip?”

Rev checked the time. “Crap, I need to get going.”

“Better you than me. Maybe now I can win back some of my losses.”

“Fat chance. Eth and Jellyroll will still be here.”

“Why didn’t you remind me of the time?” he asked Punch as he put on his helmet and locked it into place.

<You’ve got plenty of time, and from all your whining, I thought the food fabricator was a priority.>

“I wasn’t whining,” he said.

But Punch was right. As far as he was concerned, the fabricator was a priority. And if the “flower-picking trip,” as Kelly called it, was delayed a few minutes, no harm, no foul. The minerals or whatever else they were looking for weren’t going to sprout legs and run off.

Rev passed through the shelter’s airlock and went over to Shelter 1, which was the lab, collection point, and armory. Tiwari, Hvaser, Nunt, and Mouf Vasseur were waiting, already kitted up.

“Didn’t think you were going to make it, Sergeant Major,” Mouf said.

“What, and miss a stroll through the natural beauty that makes Bundy such a special place? Mother forbid.”

“And deprive me of command,” Mouf said. “Here I was all ready to be a hero.”

“The civs won’t listen to you, either,” Nunt said.

“And you can suck my Legionnaire dick.”

“Maybe I would if anyone could find it.”

“Knock it off. Your language would make a warrant officer blush,” Rev said as he started to change out his supplemental O2 cylinder for a new one.

“That’s right, Mouf. The sergeant major gets discombobulated when he hears that wymping sewer you’ve got for a mouth.”

The Legionnaire made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, their version of the Union’s middle finger.

“Only in your dreams, Mouf, my man.”

Tiwari and Hvarser laughed, and Hvarser made a comment in what might be Hindi, after which Tiwari laughed even louder.

Rev didn’t bother asking Punch for a translation, but he thought he got the gist of it. What was interesting was that Hvarser was learning the language, something Rev hadn’t realized.

He gave both of them a long look. Rev tried to keep the two together when he could. Aside from being Rev’s personal praetorian guard, the two planned to get married. Hvarser had already had her pregnancy blockers removed by Dr. Rima, but unlike others where doing that almost immediately resulted in a pregnancy—as if the eggs and sperm were in a rush after being freed—that hadn’t happened for them.

Once it did, though, Rev knew he was going to have to break the two up, at least insofar as duties. If they were parents, they needed to be spread loaded, to use the combat term, to lessen the chances of both of them being killed in the same fight.

Rev was already doing it with him and Tomiko, along with the other military sets of parents.

Actually, he really didn’t need both of them on this foray. He could go out with just two people. But with nothing much to do about the camp, he was getting as many of them out as possible to break the monotony.

“System check,” he told Punch.

“All systems green. Power is at ninety-one-point-three percent, O2 at one hundred percent. No ammunition, as you have not yet donned your IBHU.”

Well, duh!

He wasn’t sure how he’d skipped that little step. His mind was wandering, which wasn’t a good sign before leaving the confines of the camp.

But then again . . .

He looked over at where Pashu was on her rack.

Do I really need her?

There was no life on Bundy. No threat. So, why don her?

Rev was still healing, but that didn’t mean his back was at 100%. It still hurt, particularly after exercise. And particularly when he was wearing Pashu. What had been painstakingly balanced before was now out of whack, and that caused issues.

Hiking around the local hills would be so much easier if he wasn’t burdened by her.

The temptation to leave his IBHU was pretty strong, but in the end, he sighed and shuffled over to the rack. If he had Randigold or Kelly with him, he might have left Pashu behind. And the SOP that everyone had agreed to required that every expedition outside of the camp be accompanied by an IBHU Marine.

It was almost assuredly overkill on Bundy, but make exceptions now, and it would be so much easier to start making them later during other expeditions where there could be potential consequences.

“Inspection,” he told the others.

He gave each of them a quick but thorough inspection, then stood while Vasseur inspected him. As expected, everyone was ready.

“Well, let’s get the show on the road,” he told his team before heading into the lab proper where the civilians were almost ready.

He zeroed in on Lesin Broady, the excursion head. “Any changes?”

“We may want to detour on the way back, but no. Our objective is the same.”

Rev didn’t bat an eye. Almost every time out with the civilians resulted in a “detour.” Sometimes he thought it was just their way of one-upmanship among the rest of them. The more they discovered, the higher their position in the civilian hierarchy. So, if they could slip in something extra, all the better.

Other than the fact that any detour extended their time in their PALs, he was fine with it. The mission was to discover whatever they could about each system and planet, so he couldn’t very well take issue with trying to cram more into each trip.

“You just let me know,” he told Broady. “Are you ready?”

“Ready and eager,” the man said, despite the fact that Rev could see two of his team hadn’t sealed up yet. Then . . .

“Did you inspect each person?”

“We know what we’re doing by now.”

Rev turned to his team. “Sergeant Tiwari, Sergent Chef Vasseur, conduct a full inspection for planetary ops.”

“Come on, Sergeant Major. Is that really necessary? We’ve all been on lots of missions before,” Broady said.

Rev reached out, took one end of the Auxiliary O2 feed hose, and forced it into the valve at the base of the civilian’s helmet.

“You’ll breathe a little easier if you’re not venting all your air to the outside.”

Broady’s eyes went wide, and he felt around for the connection and gave it a little tug. Rev could see his face turn red through his face shield, and he didn’t say anything else as Vasseur and Tiwari inspected the rest of his team.

Rev wasn’t going to harp on the mistake. Broady knew he’d screwed up. So, he just stood there silently while his two conducted the inspection. He waited until they gave him a thumbs-up, then he gave the order to exit the shelter.

Without the Lamix up, there was no real gate to leave the camp. But just walking away wasn’t an option. Everyone had to leave through one checkpoint, which was manned by one of Rev’s team.

Micky Cocker was on duty, and she scanned everyone out. When they returned, everyone would be scanned back in.

Rev kept a grim smile plastered on his face as Cocker scanned him. Thankfully, she had the grace not to catch his eye. The new procedures, which Rev approved, had been implemented largely because of his little escapade on Sixty-eight.

Once they were through, he gave the order to Tiwari to lead the movement. Hvarser, Nunt, and Vasseur all had their nation’s version of internal navigation, but Rev was a Marine, and he trusted the Union system more. It was a little ridiculous, he knew. The MDS and Alliance systems were technically on par with the Union’s, and Rev was in the middle of the formation and could correct if they went off course. Still, he felt better with Tiwari as the navigator.

Their objective was 7.3 klicks from the camp—about two-and-a-half hours with the civilians in their environmental suits. Their route would be up the channels, changing branches twice. They could cut almost a klick if they took a direct route, but with the civilians, Rev thought the up and down would be too taxing.

One good thing about their route was while their long-distance view was blocked, the sides of the canyons, canals, whatever—Rev didn’t really know quite what to call them—were as interesting as anything Rev had seen on the planet so far. When flying over the area, the hills and gullies looked to have been worn smooth by the wind.

Up close, though, the surface wasn’t particularly smooth. The walls were almost striated, as if clawed by giant tigers, and those gouges revealed ever-changing colors. But they had to be at eye level to be able to see the variations. Rev and Punch had discussed how they must have been formed after their last two trips outside the camp.

Their best conclusion was that the wind picked up particulates that sandblasted the hillsides but that differences in density and hardness created varying degrees of erosion, and that caused the rather beautiful results.

The bottom line was that they gave Rev something to look at as they marched.

“How high do you think the mountains here used to be?”

<There’s no way to tell with the instrumentation we have, but they could have been massive.>

“They’re not massive now. What do you think? Maybe a hundred, a hundred-twenty meters at the most?”

<Given the height of your eyes above the ground and the distance to the second hilltop on your right, that would be 124 meters, give or take 1.2 meters.>

“How long before they’re worn down like Bundy-1 was?”

<We’d have to take exact measurements now, then after the next storm. We’d still need to know how often the storms hit here and how strong they are. And there are other factors almost too numerous to list that would have an effect on the calculations, but the question is within the realm of being answered with a reasonable degree of accuracy.>

“Damn, Punch. You’re really getting into it.”

<Yes, I would say I am. The sheer number of factors would make such a calculation an interesting undertaking.>

“Not just interesting. You think it would be fun. And don’t give me that ‘I’m not programmed for fun’ BS.”

Punch had been somewhat withdrawn for quite a while, even before Kurt opened up his bag of worms. Rev couldn’t remember the last joke his battle buddy had told. So, it was good to sense a little bit of life in him.

<As much as I can experience fun, I would agree. The prospect of undertaking such a massive project is appealing.>

“Too bad we won’t be here long enough to set up the data gathering you’d need.”

<That is unfortunate.>

“But if you can think of a way to do it, I’ll bring it up with Njuguna. It’s science, right, so she should be all over it.”

They started brainstorming. More accurately, Punch was brainstorming. Rev was listening and interjecting a degree of practicality. And before Rev knew it, Tiwari announced that they’d arrived.

Rev and Punch hadn’t come up with anything close to a plan to present to Dr. Njuguna, but it had been fun to huddle with his battle buddy. It was a throwback to a time earlier in their relationship.

Rev did a quick survey of the site, which was at a branching of the wind channels. Three hills rose around them. The one on the northwest side had an almost thirty-meter sheer wall that the wind had cut like a giant machete, and it was obvious that was the reason the civilians had selected the site. That was thirty meters of exposed rock that they could probe and scan.

Before he’d clear the team, though, Rev took Hvarser and scaled the hill with the wall. From the top, he had an unobstructed view to the north, where the low hills stretched to the horizon. To the south, he could just see the edge of the plains. Over that horizon was Bundy 1.

“No giant monsters up here, Cheetoh. I guess we can clear the civvies to do their thing.”

“I’d almost welcome a monster,” Hvarser said. “I think we’re losing our fighting edge.”

“Bite your tongue!”

But she had a point. A military unit, no matter how good, needed to be honed to remain combat effective. When they weren’t in combat, they had to rely on training, and they really hadn’t done that except on the two small virtual field trainers. There’d been no actual, full-scale exercises.

Maybe we need to get some in.

He looked around the area. He could make it work here, he knew.

It would take some time to set something up. Maybe a raid or something. Use sailors or civilians as the opfor. Maybe the lemmings. They’d get a kick out of that. We’d have to wait until after all the science stuff is done, and that might delay departure. I’d have to clear it with Njuguna—

“Sergeant Major?”

“What?”

“I asked if we’re going down to let Broady know they can start.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

But as they descended the hill, he kept thinking about what kind of training he could set up.

* * *

“Ground Pounders, this is Momma,” came over the ship-to-ground net.

Rev rolled his eyes. Communications discipline had long started to suffer, but the recent practice of referring to the ship as “Momma,” the company as “Ground Pounders,” and the civilians as “Boffins,” was going a little too far, in his opinion. That wasn’t a hill he was going to die on, though.

“This is Bundy-2. Whaduyah got?”

“This is just a head’s up. The SO’s detected what could be a storm brewing.”

Rev jerked his head around and scanned the sky. It was clear and still, just as it had been since they arrived at the site.

“Where is it?”

“About five hundred-forty klicks west-northwest.”

Rev let out a sigh of relief. That was quite a ways off, and if something big formed, they had time to evacuate.

“How far along is the formation?”

“It’s not really a formation yet, Sergeant Major. It’s not much of anything. But the AIs note that there’s a chance it could form into a weather pattern. We really don’t have enough data on the planet’s weather to say much more, but Lieutenant Zybar wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“Tell him I appreciate it, and if there’s any change, then give me a shout.”

“Roger that. Momma out.”

Rev almost went back to the holoseries he and Punch were watching. The small potential of something—not that they knew exactly what—forming so far away was not a major cause for concern. However, the science officer had thought it important to let him know. He didn’t know the SO well. Zybar was one of the ship’s junior officers, and he might be overly cautious as a result. Still, better overly cautious than complacent.

He connected to Sergent Chef Vasseur. “Hey, Mouf. The ship just called. There’s a tiny chance that a storm is brewing five hundred klicks away.”

“A storm? Like we saw on the screens?”

“Yeah, a storm. But there’s nothing now, and probably nothing coming. But to be on the safe side, I want you to check all the tie-downs, then check the camp for anything loose. Everything that isn’t secured is to be inside one of the shelters.”

“Do you think there’s any danger, Sergeant Major?”

“Not really. And if there is, the ship will tell us. But even without a major storm, we don’t need anything blowing around in the breeze.”

“Got it. We’re on it. I could use the excuse to get out and about.”

“How much did you lose?”

“How can you tell?”

“You’ve got Eth there. She’s got the Mother’s own luck.”

“Yeah, she sure does. OK, I’m on it. Do you want me to report back to you?”

“Nah. Just check it.”

Rev cut the connection, then settled back in, ready to get back to his series.

* * *

“Sergeant Major!”

“Wha . . . I’m awake!”

Rev never understood how he could fall asleep when Punch was inputting a show directly into his visual and audio cortexes, but it happened more times than he’d cared to admit, and more often lately than when he was younger.

“You’re . . . what, Sergeant Major?”

“Nothing. What’s up?”

“This is Lieutenant Zybar.”

It took Rev a moment to remember Zybar was the ship’s science officer.

“Yes, sir.”

“I just wanted to . . . not that it’s anything for certain . . . but . . .”

Get on with it, Lieutenant.

“I think Petty Officer Evans told you about the weather?”

“About the potential storm?”

“Riiiiight,” the lieutenant passed. “About that. It looks a little more sure that something’s forming.”

Rev craned his head. The sky was clear, and there was a slight breeze blowing across their location. Nothing looked threatening. But he had seen the last storm, and he really didn’t want to be on the surface while a monster like that hit.

“And it’s heading here?”

“No, no, nothing like that. And from our readings, it won’t be, even if it does grow into a storm.”

“So, what are you saying, sir?”

“I just think it’s important that you know. You’re the one down on the surface.”

“Does Njuguna know?”

“Not unless the skipper told her.”

“Well, what does Captain Nyad say?”

Except for the fact that he owned the shuttles and the landing craft, Nyad didn’t have much of a say in whether the expedition should withdraw. That was up to Njuguna and Rev.

“I don’t know.”

“You did tell him about this, right?” Rev asked.

“Sure, Sergeant Major. I sent him a message. He just hasn’t responded yet.”

Maybe you should have told him personally, yah think?

“Listen, Lieutenant. I need you to give Captain Nyad a face-to-face update. Then, I want a meeting with the captain, Dr. Njuguna, and anyone else who might need to be there. Set it up for, say, thirty minutes from now? Can you do that?”

Some officers might balk at essentially being given an order from an enlisted Marine, but Lieutenant Zybar just said, “Sure thing, Sergeant Major. I’ll let them know you want to meet.”

“You need to be there, too, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess so.”

<Ask him to send down the data he’s using.>

“Oh, one last thing. Can you send the weather data down to me? I’d like to take a look.”

“Uh, sure. OK.” A few moments later, he said, “On the way.”

They cut the connection.

“Are you going to be able to do anything with that?” he asked Punch.

<I don’t have the same analytical capability as the ship’s AI to forecast weather, but I’d like to start studying what they predict with the terrain here and the camp’s setup. If there’s something proactive that we can do in preparation, then I think the earlier we implement it, the better.>

“If a storm’s heading this way, we aren’t hanging around.”

<Of course. But even if a storm doesn’t come close, there could be high winds in the surrounding areas. So, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.>

Frankly, Rev thought Punch might be bored and just wanted something to do. There had been a few occasions since he and Punch had been together that he asked his battle buddy if he got bored, and each time he’d denied it. But in view of some of their recent conversations, he’d begun to wonder about that again.

He left Punch to his own devices. The civilian team was concentrated on the exposed wall. Several instruments had been set up, and everyone seemed busy, even if Rev didn’t have a clue as to what they were actually doing.

He wandered over and spotted Broady.

“How’s it going?”

The civilian team head turned around. “Pretty amazing, really, Sergeant Major,” he said in an excited voice. “These are some astounding initial findings. Of course, we have to dig in deeper due to the—”

“I’m having a meeting with Dr. Njuguna and Captain Nyad in”—he checked the time—“twenty-seven minutes. I think you need to join in.”

“Meeting? What for?”

“There could be a weather formation, and we need to discuss if we should pull chocks.”

“Pull chocks.”

“Get out of here.”

“We can’t do that. This,” he said, sweeping an arm to indicate the entire face of the hill, “is too important. This is an amazing deposit.”

“Which will be here even after a storm hits. But I’m not saying we are leaving. We just need to discuss it and any other contingencies. If this is such a good find, then that’s all the more reason for you to be in on it.”

Broady seemed to consider it, then said, “You’re right. Njuguna needs to know what we’ve got here.”

“Great. I’ll give you a five-minute heads-up.”

* * *

“No, there’s no indication that the depression will develop into a storm like we observed when we got here,” Zybar said

“So, there’s no reason to pull chocks,” Broady said.

Despite himself, Rev had to smile. Thirty minutes ago, the civilian had never heard the phrase. Now he was throwing it around like a Navy pilot.

“If there’s any risk—” Njuguna started to say before Broady interrupted.

“Of course. But let’s not be too cautious here. You’ve seen the initial readings, Yollie. They’re off the charts.”

“That’s true. This is a very significant location.”

“With all due respect, even if we do have to evacuate, everything will be here when we come back.”

“Not necessarily,” Broady said. “A powerful enough storm could alter the face where we’re doing the study.”

All the more reason to leave if something heads our way. If it’s powerful enough to change the rock there, then it’s powerful enough to do us dirty if we’re here.

“And a delay at the site might limit the time we have doing fieldwork,” Njuguna said. “We’re under continual pressure from Titan to move on to the next objective. They want a broad sweep, not a deep dive into any one location.”

“And if the numbers are so good, wouldn’t they want us to stay here longer?” Rev asked.

Njuguna grudgingly agreed.

“What’s the situation with Four-oh-three?” Rev asked Nyad.

“Still down. We’ve uncovered some degradation with the harmonizer, and we want to fix that now while we have access instead of waiting for it to fail.”

“So, where are we at? Dr. Njuguna?”

“I think I’m going to have to agree with Lesin on this. According to Lieutenant Zybar, there isn’t any immediate threat, and if something does form, we should have plenty of warning before we’d have to take action. But it doesn’t seem as if you agree, Sergeant Major.”

Rev sighed. It wasn’t that he thought they should evacuate. The point that there wasn’t an immediate risk was a valid one. What he didn’t like was what he considered a cavalier attitude to the potential risk. He understood that Broady and Njuguna’s priorities were the gathering of data. But his was security, and that colored his outlook.

“I am not recommending we take any action yet. But I think we need to have a more detailed contingency plan should that become necessary. Particularly with only two craft.”

“Which is why we limited the size of the mission,” Njuguna said. “So that everyone could be evacuated in one lift.”

She was absolutely right, but still, it didn’t sit easy with him.

“What if I kept the Charon on station, Sergeant Major? Would that help?” Captain Nyad asked.

Having the landing craft on station over the camp would cut down on the time it would take to get it to the LZ. Rev would rather have it on the ground, but having it on station was better than nothing.

“I think that might be the prudent move,” Rev said.

“Well, that’s a good compromise,” Njuguna said, sounding relieved. “So, are we good to continue?”

It’s not a damn compromise. It’s just a smart contingency plan.

“Yes. But I’d like for Lieutenant Zybar to make the weather his primary focus. And if anything changes, then we reconsider our options.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Nyad said. “So, is there anything else?”

“I think that should do it,” Njuguna said. “Unless you’ve got something else, Sergeant Major?”

Rev felt like there should be something else, but for the life of him, he couldn’t nail it down.

“I guess that’s it.”

“Great! Then let’s get back to work,” Njuguna said. “I’m closing the meeting.”

She winked off the net.

Broady passed, “And I’m back to work,” before he cut the connection.

Captain Nyad said, “Lieutenant Zybar will personally monitor the weather developments. If things change, he’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Captain. And thanks for the landing craft staying on station.”

“We do what we can do, Sergeant Major,” he said before he cut the connection.

A moment later, Lieutenant Zybar did as well, leaving Rev alone in the virtual meeting.

Rev still felt a little uneasy, and his rational side wasn’t sure why. He didn’t want to be an alarmist, particularly when the storm wasn’t a storm and whatever it was wasn’t heading here. He finally signed off the meeting and looked up at the sky.

It was sunny and calm. He just hoped it wasn’t the calm before the storm.

* * *

“Everything OK over there?” Rev asked Kelly.

“No big deal. March out and let the civvies set up. I think they’re a little jealous, though. From their initial survey, there isn’t as much here as with you.”

“Yeah. Broady and the rest are about ready to orgasm over here.”

Kelly laughed and said, “Now that’s something I would say, not the prim and proper Sergeant Major Reverent Pelletier!”

“Blame boredom. This was supposed to be eight hours on-site, but we may be overnighting it.”

“Sucks to be you. From the looks of it, we’ll be cutting it short on our side.”

“Lucky you.”

“Well, enjoy your sludge. We’ll be back with combat rats by tonight.”

“Eat me, Gunny.”

“No, I’ll eat combat rats, thank you very much.”

Rev cut the connection.

Never thought I’d be jealous of combat rats.

The original plan was for only one excursion out of the camp at a time. The other civilians would be either sleeping or working in the lab. But whether the storm had an impact or not, Njuguna decided to send out tomorrow’s planned excursion today. Rev had to scramble to get a team to go out with them. Having limited personnel, he sent Kelly with three others. That left five to remain with the camp.

It looked like it wouldn’t matter much, if Kelly was right about their location. It was barely two klicks from camp, and if it was a dry well, they could be back as early as nightfall.

Rev had already put Tiwari and Hvarser on an off-watch, leaving him with Nunt and Vasseur. For as much as the MDS soldier and Legionnaire gave each other a ration of crap, they were pretty good friends, and Tiwari and Hvarser were, well, Tiwari and Hvarser. He hadn’t planned on breaking his team into watches, but if they were going to overnight it, then he might as well get people some sleep.

He wandered down to the wall where Broady and three others in his team were deep in discussion as they looked at the readouts from one of their pieces of equipment.

One of the others nudged Broady and pointed at Rev.

“Any change?” he asked in alarm.

“No. It’s just sitting out there, gathering energy and creeping northeast.”

All of them automatically turned to the northwest, but the sky was still clear. With the short horizon, there wasn’t any way they could see that far, but there weren’t even the distant wisps that Rev might see in Safe Harbor.

“Northeast is OK,” Broady said.

Rev wouldn’t say it was OK. North meant it was going away from them, but east meant it was getting closer. Call it a wash. But the baby storm had winds only in the 150 KPH range, and it was traversing the ground at 30 KPH as of twenty minutes ago.

“What’s your status? Do you still think we might overnight?” he asked.

“We could spend a month here, Sergeant Major. But I think we might have enough to head back midmorning, maybe. I’ll be putting in a request to schedule a second trip once we’re able to analyze all the data, but that might not be for another week or so.”

Rev wasn’t happy about that, but it was better than he’d hoped for.

“The other team that went out. They might be cutting their mission short. Evidently, there isn’t much at their objective.”

Broady turned to the others with a face-cracking smile. All four high-fived each other.

It isn’t a competition.

Except, maybe it was. For all he knew, Broady and his team had fought for this location, and they were being proved right. Rev had been with them for over two years now, but he didn’t know much about the civilians’ work culture.

“I really should know how things work with the civvies,” he told Punch.

<It would probably be a good idea if you are to coexist.>

Rev headed back to his CP, which was just a slight indentation in the slope of the hill directly across from Broady’s wall. He could activate his PAL’s seating function, relax, and ask Punch to run something.

“Sergeant Major, this is Lieutenant Zybar.”

Rev stopped mid-step.

“What is it?”

“I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about yet.”

Yet??????

“But the storm’s picked up strength. Winds are reaching two hundred and sixty KPH at the center.”

“Two-sixty? That’s a hundred more than twenty minutes ago.”

“I know, and that’s remarkable, to be honest. I’ve never seen such a huge jump in such a short period.”

“Is it time to think about getting out of here?”

“Did you tie down the shelters?”

That isn’t what I asked.

But he answered, “Yes, we did.”

“Well, I checked, and when tied down, they’re rated for winds up to 320 KPH. And the storm’s still tracking to the northeast, so I think we’re still fine. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“You keep doing that, Lieutenant. And let me know if there’s a change in its track.”

“Will do. But, like I said, I don’t think there’s much of a concern.”

“I’ve got to say, Lieutenant, you don’t seem too sure of yourself.”

There was a long silence, then finally, “I’m not a meteorologist, Sergeant Major. I’m just going on the AI’s projections. All I know is that this isn’t acting like the storms in the database.”

Rev had been dismissive of the lieutenant before, but now he realized that the young officer was in a tough spot. He was the science officer, but that didn’t mean he had a background in any of the fields over which he was in charge. As Rev understood it, most Navy shipboard SOs weren’t scientists of any kind. They were line officers, filling a billet. The thinking was that they were just supposed to manage the various enlisted ratings, equipment, and AIs that handled all the actual work that fell under the broad term of science.

“Well, sir, this is a weird planet, so of course weather here would be different. But I trust you to keep your eye on what’s happening. And if we have to, we’ll just go back to the ship and ride this thing out.”

“I guess so. And we’ll have time if that happens. I just wish I could give you a better forecast one way or the other.”

“You just let me know if there’re any changes. Bundy-2 out.”

The kid’s out of his element, and he’s taking it hard. But sometimes, you just have to step up to the plate and deliver.

He contacted Kelly and gave her an update, then to Over-sergeant Torking back at the camp as well before he activated his sitting function and settled in.

“Whaduyah got for me, Punch?”

<What are you in the mood for?”

“Surprise me, my friend.”

* * *

Twenty-four minutes later, his comms lit up.

You don’t have to check in every minute, Lieutenant, he thought as he saw the identifier.

“This is Bundy-2. What is it, Lieutenant?”

“I think you gotta get outta there, Sergeant Major.”

“What? What are you talking about.”

“The storm. It like . . . exploded!” he shouted, obviously on the edge.

“Calm down, Lieutenant. What do you mean, exploded? It dissipated?”

“No! In like two minutes, it went to wind speeds of more than four hundred KPH. It’s impossible, but it did.”

Rev’s stomach threatened to rise to his throat.

“And your instruments, they’re accurate? Could they be wrong?”

“I checked with the S-1004, then with the Hagiwara. They’re all right.”

Rev stood up. His view to the northwest was partially blocked by the hill. The harsh sunlight still dominated the sky, but over the far horizon . . . was that a little bit of dust?

I think you’re imagining things, Reverent.

“OK. What does Captain Nyad say?”

“I haven’t told him. I told you first.”

Rev took a deep breath. “Listen to me, Lieutenant. We need to break down the camp and get off the planet. Go tell Captain Nyad to order the Charon to land and to send off the shuttle. I’ll start things on my end, and then I’ll get back to him to coordinate. And tell Dr. Njuguna what’s happening.

“The big thing to remember is not to panic. We’ve got time to do this right.”

“No!”

“What do you mean, no? I’m making the call under my authority as the security element commander.”

“I mean, we may not have time.”

“What are you talking about, Lieutenant? The storm’s five hundred klicks away and heading north.”

“It’s closer to you and coming at you fast. It’s almost like it rebounded off the equator and diverted to you. And it picked up speed.”

Rev’s mind tunneled in on what Zybar had just said. “How much speed?” he said with his command voice.

“One-seventy-five KPH, Sergeant Major.”

“I thought you said it was over four hundred KPH.”

“That’s wind speed around the center. I mean over-the-ground speed.”

“You’re telling me it’s coming at us at almost two hundred klicks per hour?”

“The eye, yes. The leading edge with the rotational speed, that will hit much harder.”

“Shit!” Rev shouted as his warrior self tried to take over.

But he needed a clear head. He couldn’t fight the storm, after all.

He pushed the warrior back and told Zybar, “You tell the skipper I want that landing craft on the ground now! And the shuttle better be heading here ten minutes ago. Bundy-2 out!”

He was on the net as he ran toward Broady and the others. “Kelly, the storm’s coming, and coming fast. We’ve got to get out of here. Get your ass back to the camp and help Torking. I’ve got the Charon inbound. I want you to get everyone aboard.”

“What about the equipment?”

The equipment on the planet made up a significant percentage of what Njuguna and her team had. Some of it was irreplaceable. Rev needed to get his people off the planet, but there was no reason to abandon the equipment unless he had to.

“Personnel have priority, but pack what you can. When the shuttle arrives, we can use that. Now get your people back to the camp.”

“I’m on it.”

He slid to a stop by Broady, who couldn’t hide the rolling of his eyes.

“Stop what you’re doing. We’re leaving now!”

“We can’t. We’re in the middle of some sensitive testing.”

“Screw your testing. The mother of all storms is heading right at us, and it’s coming in fast. We need to get off the planet.”

Broady just stared at him, his mouth dropping open. “But you said—”

“I don’t care what I said. Things have changed. Get your people ready now!”

Broady looked around the area. “It’ll take thirty minutes to pack up.”

“We’re leaving the equipment. Gather your people. We move out in two minutes.”

“I can’t leave the equipment!”

“You will if I have to tie you up and carry you. Get your people now!” Rev shouted.

Broady turned to the northwest. Rev thought the far-off dust on the horizon was noticeably darker now.

It must have sunk in because the team leader started shouting over the net for his people to gather.

Rev called Torking as he ran to the CP and told him to start breaking down the camp and getting everyone ready to leave. Then he organized his team. Hvaser and Nunt, as the two fastest, would bring up the rear with orders not to let any civilian fall behind them. Tiwari was back at point, and Rev and Vasseur would harry the flanks, like Aussie shepherds. Or maybe like wolves.

Whatever it took, they’d keep the civilians moving.

Two minutes had been a pipe dream, but four minutes after he told Broady, Rev gave the order to move out.

He took one more look to the northwest. There wasn’t any question, now. An ugly black cloud rose above the horizon as the storm came their way.

* * *

“Where’s that damn shuttle?” Rev asked the top.

“They’re still scrambling the launch crew. I’m in the hangar now, watching them.”

“Kick whatever ass you have to, Tye. They need to get going.”

Rev had briefly spoken to the captain, who assured him he was doing everything he could to evacuate them. Then he left the captain alone to do his job. But he had Tye Klipsinger on the ship, and he could be Rev’s eyes and ears.

“I’ll keep on them. Uh, have you spoken to Miko?”

“I’m kinda busy down here.”

“She’s worried. You know she’s not going to bother you when you’re busy, like you say. But I think she can use a quick word.”

Rev looked over his shoulder. The storm was in sight. The sky above them was still clear, and even over the storm, he could see blue sky. But the dark menace was coming closer, a promise of violence.

“OK, I’ll give her a call. You tell me, though, the second that shuttle takes off.”

“Roger that.”

Rev left top on standby, but before he could call Tomiko, one of the civilians stumbled and went down. Several others stopped to try to help her up.

“Don’t stop!” Rev shouted as he rushed to her. “You keep moving and leave anyone like this to us.”

He hooked Pashu under the woman’s arm, grabbed her with his right, and bodily lifted her to her feet.

“Can you walk?”

She nodded inside her helmet.

“Then go,” he said, giving her a light push.

He stopped to look at the formation. It was stretching out. A few were close to Tiwari in the front, then the main body was spreading. There were three people in the rear. Hvarser was helping one of them, half-carrying the person.

A couple of the civilians in the front were carrying pieces of equipment. He should have expected that. But as they were keeping pace, Rev chose to ignore it. If they faltered, though, Rev was going to take the instruments and break them over his knee.

They were going slower than he’d hoped, but they were still covering ground.

“Can we make it?” Rev asked Punch.

<I’ll know better once the shuttle launches. Assuming it launches within the next ten minutes or so, assuming a combat approach, and using our current pace, both we and the shuttle should reach the LZ before the brunt of the storm arrives.>

“And if we have to board the Charon?”

<The situation hasn’t changed since the last time you asked me. If we leave the equipment behind, all personnel on the planet can be lifted on the landing craft in a single load.>

“With our PALs and suits?”

<Yes, with them as well. We won’t all have seats, but we will fit in the passenger bay.>

It may come to that if that thing doesn’t launch soon.

Rev started ranging the column, watching for anyone to start slowing when Punch reminded him, <Were you going to contact Tomiko?>

Crap.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He made the connection. Tomiko picked up before the second ring.

“Rev! What’s going on down there?”

“We’re heading back to the camp now, and we’ve got flights coming in to evacuate us.”

“You’re not at the camp?” he asked, her voice raising in pitch.

“I’m out on an excursion. But we’ve got time to get back.”

Tomiko paused, and Rev could picture her trying to figure out if she should be more worried.

“Really, we’ve got time.”

“How bad is it?”

Rev automatically looked over his shoulder. He could make out the swirls now in the massive amounts of dust that the storm’s winds had picked up.

“Not good. But not as bad as the one we saw when we came in. But when it hits here, we’ll be watching it from orbit, so no biggie.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it, then. If you can, give me a shout when you lift off.”

“Will do. Give my love to the girls.”

Rev cut the connection just as a blast of wind hit them. It wasn’t particularly strong, but it was enough that every person turned to look behind them.

“Come on, people. Pick up the pace,” Rev passed.

There was an immediate surge . . . that lasted for about fifty meters.

Well, it’s better than nothing.

“Our ride’s coming in to land now,” Torking passed on the P2P. “ETA four minutes.”

Rev looked up into the sky ahead. It took Punch’s help to spot it, but he could just make out the landing craft as it approached.

“What do you want us to do?”

“What’s the status on breaking camp?”

“We’re close to start the collapse of Shelter 1, and the civvies are crating their equipment.”

Rev wanted to use the landing craft for personnel as much as possible, which meant the shuttle would take most of the equipment along with whoever was left. But he didn’t want to have to pack anything when they arrived.

“Keep packing up camp. Let’s see how things progress before you quit and board.”

“Roger that.”

He cut the connection and switched to Kelly.

“What’s your pos?”

“Our point’s about four hundred meters out. Tail-end Charlie’s closer to five hundred, though.”

“Keep it tight. We don’t want to have someone see something interesting and go wandering off. Too much paperwork if we lose them.”

Kelly didn’t laugh, which he knew meant she was focused.

“Get back there and take over the pack up. I want as much as possible on the LZ and ready to load the second the shuttle touches down.”

“What’s the ETA on that thing?”

“It’s getting ready to launch now,” Rev said, hoping it was true.

“It’s not launched yet? What are those assholes waiting on? An engraved invitation?”

“Just get your folks to the LZ, Kel. I’ll worry about the shuttle.”

“And you get your ass to the LZ, too, Rev. That sucker looks mean. We just got hit with a blast of wind that knocked down two of the civvies.”

“Yeah, we got hit, too. Wait. Gotta go. One of mine just stopped.”

He jogged over to Dar Molisteri. The big man had bent over with his hands on his knees.

“You with me, Dar?” Rev asked.

“Yah, yah. Jes’ let me catch my breath. I’ve got a lotta me to haul around, dontcha know.”

“I know, I know.”

Rev wanted to yell at the man as he might a recruit, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Molisteri’s face was white, and Rev could hear the wheezing through his external speakers.

He checked the distance between them and Hvarser and Nunt. “Look, you’ve got thirty seconds before Nunt and Cheetoh get here, and you’ve got to get moving again then or Cheetoh will kick your ass, OK?”

Despite his condition, Molisteri laughed and managed to gasp out, “Ah sure as hell don’ want that!”

Hvarser was still half-carrying someone—Thames, it looked like. Rev pointed at Nunt, then at Molisteri’s back. Nunt waved a hand in acknowledgment.

“OK, Nunt’s gonna help you.”

“A Mad Dog? Over my dead body,” the big man said before straightening out and stepping ahead.

Rev didn’t know if Molisteri was joking or not. From his accent, he was probably from one of the Knopfer Worlds, and they weren’t particularly adversaries of the MDS. But if it kept the man moving, Rev didn’t care.

He motioned for Nunt to keep an eye on him.

The next gust was stronger, and it pelted Rev with dust, which inside his PAL sounded like he was getting sandblasted. It didn’t rock him, but it did the civilians. Two went down, and another opened their net as they screamed in fright.

The gust died down, but not all the way. A steady breeze was pushing them from the rear. Rev didn’t have the ability to measure, but Punch estimated it at fifteen KPH. That wasn’t much, but Rev knew it was merely a portent of things to come.

“Keep it moving,” he passed.

“The landing craft’s down,” Torking passed to him. “The pilot wants to lift off as soon as possible. I told him that we’ve got two excursions out there, but he wants to lift as soon as every boat space is filled.”

Rev wasn’t sure there’d even be a pilot—the Charon could be automated, and two of the pilots who’d started out with the mission had decided to return to the real world.

“Give me the pilot of the Charon landing craft,” he ordered his comms.

The display showed that the connection went up to the ship and down to the landing craft instead of directly across the intervening four klicks. It didn’t really matter, but Rev asked Punch to make a note that they should have direct comms.

The connection lit green. “This is Sergeant Major Pelletier. Glad you made it down.”

“It’s getting a little rough, but we handled it. We need to move, though. That storm’s going to mess things up.”

Rev didn’t think that the upper reaches of the atmosphere would have been that bad. He could see clear sky over the storm, so he’d assumed the air was reasonably still.

“We’ll get there as fast as we can, but we’re on foot. It’s gonna take a while.”

“You might have to wait for the shuttle, then. With the way the winds are picking up, I might get grounded.”

Rev was a little dumbfounded at the response. He recognized the voice. He didn’t know the pilot that well, but he’d flown with him enough times to consider him a typical military pilot—that was someone who thought he could fly anywhere, anytime.

“But if the winds are too much for you, then shouldn’t they be way too much for a shuttle?”

A landing craft was a military vessel, designed to go through hell and back. A shuttle, like most craft that also flew in space, was considered a flying brick, using brute power rather than aerodynamics to fly in an atmosphere.

There was dead silence for a moment, then, “What the hell was I thinking. You’re right.”

Which meant Rev hoped he’d stick around at least until the shuttle arrived. But if the upper winds concerned the pilot, then maybe he should be a little more worried.

There was another option that had been kicking around the back of his mind, though.

“What’s the chance of you coming to pick us up and taking us back to the LZ?”

“What’s your pos?”

Rev gave him the coordinates.

“Let me get back to you.”

Rev kept his people moving while he waited. They were still in the channel, with hills rising on either side. He’d seen hotshot pilots land their craft in pretty tight spaces, so he didn’t think it would be too difficult.

“Sorry, Sergeant Major. In good conditions, sure. I could set her in. I just checked with Momma, and with the air so unstable over these hills right now, I don’t want to risk it.”

This time, Rev was gobsmacked. He wasn’t used to military personnel turning down rescue missions, which this was.

Before he could muster up an argument, though, the pilot—Lieutenant Nissen, Rev remembered—was back on. “But there’s an opening about five hundred meters from your pos. I can put down there. Do you see where I’m talking about?”

Rev had Punch display their route map. It would be easier if Nissen just gave him the coordinates, but Rev saw where the pilot was talking about. Two of the hills were set back somewhat, creating a larger channel bottom. It wasn’t much larger than where they were. Rev wasn’t a pilot, though, to understand why one was OK, but where they were wasn’t.

He wasn’t going to argue, though.

“I see it.”

“When can you get there?”

Just Marines in PAL could easily cover the ground in two minutes, but Rev had the civilians. He took a moment to look at his people. More of them seemed to be struggling. With the wind and rough ground . . .

“Ten . . . no twelve minutes.”

“Got it. I don’t want to sit in what’s a wind tunnel, so I’ll lift off here in nine. Make sure you get there.”

“Roger, sir. We’ll be there.”

“OK, folks. Listen up. I’ve got the landing craft coming to pick us up. But with the wind, the pilot can’t put in here. So, we’ve got to keep going another five hundred meters. He can land there. But we’ve got ten minutes, so we need to push it.”

<That’s five hundred meters from your position. The stragglers are farther back.>

“OK, five-fifty. That shouldn’t make a difference.”

Rev gave Tiwari the coordinates and told him to stop where the channel started getting wider and put the civilians in a tight stick as they reached him. Then he started drifting back to the stragglers. That’s who would need the help.

One of the stragglers was carrying a pack of some sort. Rev considered tossing it, but he didn’t want an argument, so he just took it and slung it over his shoulder. The woman thanked him.

“You just push, OK?”

She nodded and managed to speed up for about five steps before slowing down again.

“Give me a rundown of time and distance,” he told Punch.

With that clicking down on his face shield display, he harangued, pleaded, threatened, and encouraged the back half of the civilians, anything to keep up the pace. Twice they got hit with gusts that seemed to funnel down the channel, one that stopped the civilians in their tracks.

But even with that, it was looking good. They’d make the pick-up.

To add frosting to the cake, he was told that the shuttle had finally launched, and almost as soon as he cut the connection, Kelly reported that she was back in camp.

Buoyed by the news, he hit his team with renewed enthusiasm.

“Come on Dar. It’s just around the bend,” he told Molisteri.

“I’m coming,” he said, keeping the same slow pace.

Rev could see the man’s face shield struggling to keep clear as his lungs bellowed.

“Let the wind push you,” Rev said, only half in jest.

It had been steadily increasing as it whipped down the channel. Luckily, it was at their backs, and they weren’t fighting it. Otherwise, they’d probably miss their ETA.

And then they came around the slight bend. The rest of the civilians were kneeling along the edge of the channel. The last few took their position, with Tiwari physically touching each one to get a headcount.

“That’s everyone,” he told Rev.

“Way to go, folks. Now let’s get that landing craft in here.”

He routed through the ship and back to Nissen. “We’re at the north side of the LZ. If you need us to back up farther, let me know.”

“ETA forty-five seconds. Let’s get it done quickly.”

Another dust-laden gust blew down the channel, momentarily obscuring the visibility, which got Rev’s heart pounding, but it cleared as quickly as it had formed.

And then, coming in slow, was a beautiful sight. The Charon was crabbing hard in what had to be a steady wind, but it was closing the distance.

“Get ready to run on my command,” Rev told his people over the net—with the wind, he didn’t trust them to hear him over his speakers.

He almost pulled up Nissen to make sure their position was OK, but the pilot looked like he had his hands full at the moment. Rev just watched as the landing craft inched closer, swaying back and forth as the wind fought to control the skies.

“You’ve got it,” Rev muttered. “Nice and easy.”

The landing craft reached the level of the peaks, and it looked like it was home free.

But it’s never that easy.

A powerful gust roared down the channel, knocking half of the civilians on their butts. But that didn’t matter. Rev’s eyes were locked on the landing craft. The wall of wind slammed into it, throwing it aside like a child’s toy.

Rev shouted as the landing craft swung sideways to the nearest peak. He braced for the impact, but somehow, Nissen gained just enough control to alter the swing. Instead of crashing into the rock, the craft skimmed just over the top, slowly rotating as it passed out of sight.

“Are you OK?” Rev asked.

There was silence. The indicator was on, so they were connected, but Nissen wasn’t answering.

“Are you with me?”

There was a groan, then a “By the Mother, I think I crapped my pants.”

Rev let out a huge sigh of relief.

“I thought you were going to crash, Lieutenant.”

“You didn’t see that peak from my perspective,” he said.

The landing craft appeared over the hills but a good two hundred meters higher.

“That was as close to buying the farm as I’ve ever been,” Nissen said. “And I don’t think I can bring her in. Not with these winds.”

Rev half-expected that, but to say he was disappointed would be an understatement.

“I’m going to turn it over to the autopilot, though, and give it one more try.”

Pilots swore they were better than any autopilot—despite all tests that proved the contrary. So, for Nissen to give up control of the landing craft hammered home to Rev the seriousness of the situation.

“Bring her in, Mother,” Rev whispered as the landing craft edged back over them. The wind was growing in intensity, and the craft was swinging back and forth as if a pendulum.

The wider area looked much smaller now as the craft struggled for control. The AI autopilot had much quicker reaction times than any human pilot alive, but the laws of physics still held true. Control surfaces and engines needed time to affect what happened to the craft.

“Don’t push it,” Rev passed to Nissen.

As if on cue, the tail lifted, and the landing craft spun almost 180 degrees around while simultaneously being knocked to the side. It wasn’t as close a call as the first time, but missing the hilltop by fifteen meters was enough to stop a person’s heart.

“Sorry, Sergeant Major. I really am. But I’m cutting this off. If the Four-oh-nine can’t make it . . .”

You’re the only way off the planet before we’re slammed.

“Get back to the LZ. We’ll meet you there.”

“Mother’s speed,” Nissen said, the agony evident in his voice.

The landing craft rose, and as if swatted away by a god of old, it was whisked out of sight.

“What happened,” Broady asked. “Where’d he go?”

And Rev realized that he was the only one on the net with Nissen.

“The pilot can’t land here. He tried with the autopilot, too. The wind’s just too strong.”

He could see several of them through their face shields as they shouted, but the wind whisked their voices away, and he was grateful that they seemed to have forgotten to key into the net to speak.

“He’s not leaving the surface. He’s returning to the LZ where the hills are farther away. He’ll wait there, but that means we really have to move it.”

“In this wind? We can’t—” Broady started before Rev cut him off, blocking him from the net.

“On your feet. Same formation as before. Move it!”

Most of the civilians jumped to their feet, their fear broadcast across their faces. Four seemed to want to argue, discuss, pray, or who knows what? Rev didn’t care. He signaled his team, and they moved in, taking the others by the arm and almost forcing them into movement.

Rev checked the distance. Two thousand, eight hundred meters. It seemed like a kiloklick. But they didn’t have any other option.

“Kelly,” he said over the P2P. “We didn’t get on, so we’re humping it in.”

“What happened?”

“Too much wind. He came within a gnat’s hair of auguring in. He’s on his way back to the LZ now.”

“I think I see him.”

“How’s the wind there?”

“Pretty damn strong,” she said. “I can’t believe that it’s gotten so bad in just an hour.”

“Let me know when he lands, and . . .”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Screw the equipment. I want all of you to board.”

“We’re not leaving without you.”

“You will if you have to. We’ll take the shuttle if it comes to that.”

“Rev,” she said. “You think a flying brick can land if a landing craft can’t?”

He’d already realized that.

“I’m not telling you to leave. But I want you on board, so when we get there, we can run right in.”

“You just hurry your ass, Rev. Tomiko won’t ever forgive me if we leave you here.”

“We’re hurrying. Out.”

Rev waited until Kelly let him know the landing craft had touched down before he raised Nissen.

“How was it?”

“Bad. I was wallowing all over the place. But the wind isn’t as concentrated here, and the hilltops aren’t as close.”

“Are you going to be able to take off?”

“Taking off is easier. Nothing to crash into, you know. But we’re getting close to our max wind speed cut-off.”

“Which is?”

“Two-thirty. We’re grounded after that.”

“What are we at now?”

“Gusts to one-sixty.”

Rev ran that through his mind. If the wind kept increasing as it had been, he didn’t think they could make it to the LZ before the max had been reached. And if . . .

He turned around and gasped. He’d been so concerned about the landing craft that he hadn’t really watched the storm.

The sky, so blue an hour ago, was tan with the amount of suspended dust, the light looking like late evening. But the spinning, malevolent monster was so close that he could almost touch it.

And he didn’t need the ship to tell him that the wind speed was far more than 230 KPH.

“Look, Lieutenant! I told my people to board. If you hit two-thirty, you close your ramp and take off.”

“Not your call, Sergeant Major. It’s mine.”

Rev wasn’t going to argue now. “Just be ready.”

“And you get your asses here now!”

Rev took one more glance behind him.

Not gonna happen.

But he was sure going to give it his best shot.

“Drop every damn piece of equipment and run!” he shouted over the net.

A few of the civilian team shucked what they were carrying, but not all of them. Rev sprinted up the line of people, pulling anything off that they didn’t need to live. Jenny O’Cloud tried to grab hers back, but Rev yanked it free and tossed it away as far as he could.

He reached the front and told Tiwari, “You keep running. Maybe some of these reprobates will keep up. Get to the LZ and onto the landing craft.”

Tiwari turned his head and looked back.

“I’ll do my best to make sure she’s with you, but our duty’s to the civvies.”

“Duty, na.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Rev clapped him on the back, then started to fall behind, shouting encouragement.

When he saw the ship call him, he already knew what they were going to tell him. And he wasn’t wrong.

It was Lieutenant Commander Norton, the ship’s First Lieutenant. The officer in charge of the ship’s vessels, among other things.

“Four-oh-nine’s being recalled.”

“Understood.”

“She can’t land in that wind, Sergeant Major.”

Which Rev already knew.

“Understood.”

There was a short pause, then, “If there was any way we—”

“UNDERSTOOD!” Rev passed and cut the connection.

He knew it wasn’t the man’s fault, but he didn’t have time nor patience now to assuage his feelings. He had more on his plate at the moment.

In addition to the display, Punch kept up a running account of the distance, announcing every hundred meters crossed. Other than that, he kept quiet.

But amazingly, while being buffeted by gusts, the distance to the LZ kept diminishing. Twenty-five hundred. Two thousand. Eighteen hundred.

Rev was well aware of the monster breathing—blowing—down their necks, but he began to have a glimmer of hope as his people struggled to reach the LZ.

And, of course, that’s when the gods of war reached out and snuffed it.

The leading edge of the storm hit them like a Centaur Paladin. Rev went to his knees. The civilians were blown off their feet. Gravel and sand blasted their combat suits, the noise so loud that it drowned out everything else.

Rev had to struggle back to his feet. Visibility went to almost zero, but Rev saw a civilian tumbling head over heels to his right. He tried to reach the person, but then Molisteri—there was no mistaking the man—tackled his companion and held on.

“Huddle up!” Rev shouted over the net, but he could barely hear his own voice, and he had no idea if anyone had heard him.

And then, for a brief moment, between the bands of wind, he could see again.

He passed the order again, this time signaling for everyone to gather around him. All of the civilians had been briefed on the more common hand and arm signals, but that was almost two years ago.

But danger had a way of sparking the memory. Civilians and military sprinted toward each other.

“Down, down,” Rev shouted as he bodily threw people to the ground. “Hold on to each other!”

The storm was on them, and Rev expected another blast at any second. Ten, fifteen people reached him. Nuntz and Hvarser arrived, dragging three civilians between them. Vasseur was throwing people to the ground.

And then the hammer came down. Rev was reaching for a civilian who had been crawling to him. He started to stand up when the second storm front hit. One moment, he was two meters from Rev, his hands outstretched. The next, he was lifted off his feet and gone.

The wind staggered Rev, and he struggled to stay on his feet. A body started to blow past him, and he gave up fighting the power of nature. He dropped onto the body, pinning it to the ground with his PAL’s weight. He didn’t know who it was, but he wasn’t about to let go.

“Nissen, launch.”

“I told you that’s my call. Four-oh-nine’s out. You just keep coming.”

“We can’t come. We can’t move.”

“What do you mean you can’t move? Run!”

“Nissen! Listen, damn it! I don’t know what you can see, but look to the north!”

“Holy . . .” the pilot said in fear-tinged awe. “Mother protect you,” he added before cutting the connection.

“Mother protect you, too,” he whispered, willing the landing craft to escape.

He kept the net open, hoping, hoping . . .

“Rev! What the hell did you do?” Kelly shouted over the P2P before comms were cut.

* * *

In another world, Rev might feel abandoned. But not here. He was being battered like he’d never been before, but there were sixteen people with him—no, fifteen. The image of the civilian who’d been blown away was indelibly burned into his mind.

He hoped the rest were with him, and he turned his head to try and do a head count. But with both the airborne dust and blocked daylight, his visibility was barely over a meter. There were three, maybe four people in his sight, including the person he was on top of.

The storm was trying to lift him off the civilian, but the mass of his PAL and lack of exposed body area was keeping him grounded for the moment. If he stood up, it might be a different story, though.

He might not be in immediate danger of being sent tumbling away, but the same wasn’t true of the civilians in their much lighter C-20 environmental suits. One of the people next to him started sliding away, their arm flailing to grab onto an anchor.

Rev lurched over the person he was on to grab that arm. Their interior helmet light was on, and Rev recognized Broady, his face twisted in fear. Broady twisted and grabbed Rev’s arm with both of his.

Rev hadn’t thought about the interior light—he rarely used it as it actually made seeing a little more difficult, but if everyone turned theirs on, maybe they could see each other better.

“If you can hear me, turn on your helmet lights.”

Two glows appeared in the darkness. One was brighter than the other—whoever it was had turned on the exterior light. Rev didn’t care. At least he now knew there were five people with him at a minimum.

And one was a Marine. There was no mistaking the PAL arm spread over the back of the nearest civilian, even if he couldn’t see the rest of them.

Rev had his legs over one civilian, and Broady was clutching his arm in a death grip. But they weren’t stable. And if the wind strengthened . . .

He had to take charge and do something, but what? They couldn’t move, not in this windborne maelstrom.

But maybe he could morph the individuals into a larger creation. Dragging the struggling Broady, Rev crawled to that PAL arm. He grabbed it and pulled. The arm resisted for a moment, like someone shaking off a drowning swimmer, but with a last pull, Rev was close enough to see it was Hvarser.

“Link arms!” he shouted over the P2P.

He could barely hear his own voice, the pounding was so loud. Hvarser must have heard something because her interior helmet light turned on. Rev’s incoming message light went on, and he could make out what he thought was, “I can’t hear you!” but he couldn’t hear her, either. The pounding was like hail on a tin roof, so that wasn’t a surprise.

He turned on his own interior light, mouthed “Link arms,” and then crooked his own arm. That got through to her.

Someone was squirming under him, but he ignored that for the moment. Two of them linked wasn’t enough. With their elbows locked, he pointed beyond Hvarser. This time, she understood, and together, while dragging the civilians under them, they inched toward the others.

This was not some disciplined, purposeful action. It was more like barely controlled chaos. The civilians were fighting them more than helping, and Rev couldn’t see the rest of the group. But in a ragged effort, they managed to advance.

Over-sergeant Nunt was the first he encountered. Pashu was on that side, and Rev linked arms with him, then locked his IBHU in place. With both arms interlocked, that made it difficult to push forward as a group, especially with the civilians. But somehow, over the next five minutes, they had coalesced into a mass of humanity. Like a purse seine, the military were drawing together, linking arms against the onslaught. But it wasn’t tuna under them. Their catch was the civilians they were trying to anchor from the grip of the storm. Rev couldn’t see the other side. He had Nunt and Hvarser, then he caught a few glimpses of a PAL on the other side of the karnan. And under them were five or six civilians.

He hoped that everyone was in their pod of humanity, but with these circumstances, he couldn’t confirm that.

The noise might be too loud to communicate with each other, but maybe not the ship. He had to let them know what was happening.

“Bundy-2 to Explorer, come in.”

There was no response. It wasn’t that he just couldn’t hear the ship over the noise. His indicator didn’t light up. They weren’t broadcasting to him.

“Can you tell what’s wrong?” he asked Punch.

<Our transmitter shows green. But our signal may not be reaching the ship, or the problem could be on their side.>

Rev could “hear” Punch, given that his speech was generated inside Rev’s head, but the noise was too distracting, and after a few tries to speak with him, Rev gave up.

Rev might have his arms linked with two of his company, and he might be on top of several civilians, but he felt cut off and alone. He just put his head down and tried to ride out the storm.

* * *

<I think the eyewall has passed.>

Rev was almost in a fugue state, his mind blank except for the need to keep his right arm clamped down on Hvarser’s. Pashu, on the other side with Nunt, was locked. But his concentration lapsed several times, and he and Hvarser lost their grip with each other. After a few panicked moments, they’d managed to connect again.

His back was aching something fierce, too. He hadn’t felt it so much during the march—probably the adrenaline coursing through his body. But lying face first on the ground, on top of two of the civilians, had let his back remind him that it has seen better days.

Coming out of the blue, he couldn’t quite make sense of what Punch had just said.

“What? What’s passed?”

<The eyewall. I think it’s passed us.>

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Punch. Speak Standard.”

<The eyewall is the area just outside the eye of the storm. It’s where the strongest winds are.>

“The eye? Like in a hurricane? This isn’t a hurricane, Punch. There’s no rain.”

<This isn’t a hurricane, but it is a rotational storm and is acting like one. The images we saw upon our arrival in orbit had the same pattern, complete with an eye.>

The wind was still pounding Rev. The storm wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

“Then where was the eye? Isn’t that supposed to be calm?”

<It missed us. But the direction of the wind has shifted, and I believe the velocity has diminished.>

“I thought we couldn’t tell wind speed.”

<The noise level seems to be lower.>

Rev stopped for a moment to listen. The wind and debris were still slamming into him, and the noise was ear-numbing, but it could be a little less intense, he guessed.

“How long have we been here?”

<The leading edge hit us fifty-eight minutes, thirty seconds ago.>

“And the storm was approaching at, what was it? One-seventy-five? If we just survived the worst, that means the storm was—”

<Approximately three hundred fifty kilometers across. That’s large, but hurricanes and typhoons on Earth grew larger than that.>

“But they weren’t as strong as this one.”

<That is true.>

Rev lifted his head. Almost immediately, he was rocked back. Past the eyewall or not, the storm was still wickedly strong.

“If it’s getting weaker, I still can’t see much.”

<Weaker is relative. And we’ve entered the planet’s night.>

Rev grunted. Going through a monster storm was bad enough, but doing it at night just added to the problems.

“I hope you’re right about being through the worst, Punch. I am so over this damn storm.”

<Are you going to try and contact the ship again?>

“I’ve tried a hundred times.”

But he opened the net and said, “Anyone on this net, this is Bundy-2. Come in.”

His receiver remained silent, drowned out by the constant sandblasting of his PAL.

“And you’re sure I’m being broadcast?”

<The transmitter is showing as operational. But as I told you before, the storm could be interfering, or it could have damaged your antenna array.>

Or something could have happened to the ship.

Punch had assured him that the ship, in orbit, would not be affected by the storm on the surface. But despite the others all around him, the storm had isolated each of them in their combat or environmental suits. And that allowed his mind to wander. The worst-case scenarios kept emerging no matter how hard he tried to banish them. The storm could easily have worked as a distraction while an aggressive species launched a surprise attack.

Punch was probably right, though. Either the storm itself was interfering, or his array—the tiny series of microantennas embedded in his PAL, had been damaged.

Whatever the cause, Rev didn’t have comms with the ship. It was hard enough just talking to his team, and they were only a few meters away.

He wasn’t sure if the power of the storm was diminishing. All he knew was that it was still powerful enough to throw them around if they gave it a chance. Which he wasn’t going to do. He tried to sink himself lower to give the wind less of his body surface to grab.

The only good thing was that the planet was used to these storms, and pretty much anything that could be blown around had done so long ago. There were no trees to pick up and turn into deadly weapons, no loose rock. Only dust was being blasted into them.

Over the next ten minutes, though, it became clear that Punch was right. The incessant noise had gone down a few notches, and not just because his ears were numb. He began to hope that they may have weathered the storm.

I might as well try and get a head count again.

He was going to attempt the team net. He didn’t think any of them could hear through his loudspeakers, even if he placed them against their face shields.

“Listen up. It looks like the worst part of the storm’s passed us. We’re not out of the woods, but we made it this far. If you can hear me, answer up.”

With Punch prompting him, he went down the list.

“Broady.”

There was no answer despite the team leader being literally underneath him.

“Orion.”

No answer.

“Tulane.”

Nothing.

He went down the list. Only one civilian responded. Tiwari, Hvarser, Nunt, and Vasseur answered up. Evidently, the military comms were more robust than the commercial ones in the environmental suits. No surprise at that.

By the time he was through the headcount, though, it was no longer in doubt. The wind was diminishing as the storm moved off. It was still dark. The dust cut off the starlight, and only the glow from several internal helmet lights were visible. But Rev, Nunt, Tiwari, and Hvarser had pretty powerful external lights.

Rev turned on his, revealing a lopsided starfish of the five military personnel, arms linked together and on top of the civilians. To his surprise, Molisteri was the link between Vasseur and Tiwari. In just his commercial environmental suit, he’d plugged a hole in their defense.

With Rev’s external torch shining on them, several of the civilians started to stir.

“Keep everyone down,” Rev told his team. “This is still a heck of a storm.”

But one of the civilians had raised an arm and kept pointing down.

“Mouf, what’s he doing?”

Vasseur broke the connection with Molistieri, who raised his head in surprise. The Legionnaire edged over to touch helmets with the civilian, then he shifted his weight to look at their legs.

“Crap, Sergeant Major, this is bad.”

“What is. Tell me.”

“It’s Gultekin. Her suit’s been compromised, and the leg’s black.”

Oh, shit.

Rev released Pashu, then broke his connection with Hvarser and Nunt, then slithered over the bodies of the civilians, trying not to hurt them in the process.

Gultekin was pale, her face almost white in the glare of Rev’s light. She was breathing heavily, her eyes closed.

Rev shifted to her leg, where the enviro suit was torn open from ankle to knee. The leg was bad—a mangled hunk of flesh and bone. Rev couldn’t tell if it had been damaged by whatever had breached her suit or if it had been caused by the cold and the storm’s sandblasting.

The suit had done its job, though, sealing off the damaged area above the breach. She must have been in agony since it happened. He didn’t think that the civilians’ suits had much in the way of medical capability, so she would have been lying on the ground for the last hour and twenty minutes while her leg was torn to shreds.

If she was a Marine in a PAL, Rev knew what steps to take. But this was something new.

“What do I do?” he asked Punch.

<Get her off the planet and to the ship’s sickbay. That’s about all that can be done.>

Which wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

With Rev moving around and the lights shining over them, the civilians started to stir. Rev almost told them to get back down, but he realized that the wind speed had dropped quickly. It was still a force, but one he thought they could handle.

He scanned the pile of bodies. It looked like it was all of them, but he wanted to be sure.

“Per, I want a physical head count. Touch each person.”

Then he pulled out his universal connecting cable and jacked into Gultekin’s helmet.

“Are you with me?” he asked.

She didn’t respond.

“What are you getting?” he asked Punch.

<She’s in shock, and her vitals are weak, but not to dangerous levels.>

“Can’t you, uh, like, give her some meds?”

<Through a jack? No.>

Rev had known that, but he couldn’t help but ask.

Tiwari reported back to him. One person, Dante Sayavong, was missing. That was who Rev had seen get taken by the storm. Half of the civilians were battered, but only Gultekin was badly injured.

Somehow, most of them had survived a storm stronger than any recorded on humankind’s homeworld. Rev felt destroyed about Sayavong. He held out hope that he was holed up somewhere, alone but alive.

If someone had told him after the landing craft left that all but one of them would have managed to make it through to the other side, he’d have eagerly accepted that.

He just hoped the Charon had gotten off the planet.

The wind weakened further, and people were sitting up, looking at him.

Over-sergeant Nunt asked, “What now, Sergeant Major?”

Rev swung his helmet torch around. Visibility was better—maybe ten meters now. But he wasn’t about to go wandering around in the dark with the still-strong storm battering them.

They couldn’t stay here, though. When it was safe, Captain Nyad would send the landing craft back, and the LZ would still be the logical destination.

“Get everyone ready to move out. Once the wind dies down more, we’re heading to the LZ. Someone’s gonna have to carry Gultekin.”

“I’ll carry her,” Nunt said.

No surprise there. The IBHUs had proven themselves to be superior to the karnans in combat, but the karnans were stronger, and they seemed to jump at every opportunity to show that.

“Most of the civvies don’t have comms anymore, so we’re gonna have to jack into them to let them know what’s going on.”

“Roger that. We’re on it.”

Twenty minutes later, the main storm was well and truly past. There were still gusts. Strong gusts. Overhead, stars winked through the dust before disappearing again.

Rev didn’t want to wait any longer. With Nunt carrying Gultekin, they slowly marched to the camp, with Rev keeping them tight.

Twice more, he tried to contact the ship, but to no avail.

By the time they reached the camp, or what had been the camp, it was still windy with the occasional powerful gust, but the sky had cleared, and the stars were bright enough for Rev’s night vision to reveal what was there.

Which was nothing. The camp was gone, scoured by the storm. They found some of the shelter stakes, still embedded deep in the rocks, but there was nothing else to indicate that humans had ever stepped foot there.

Another gust buffeted Rev, but it was one of the last defiant attempts by the storm to regain dominance. But it was a reminder that the weather still had a bite. He pulled the civilians in and had them sit in a circle surrounding Gultekin, knee to knee. If another stronger gust hit them, they should be able to give each other mutual support.

“Mouf, Cheetoh, stay with the civvies. The rest of you, spread out a little. Let’s see if there’s anything that hasn’t been blown to the other side of the planet. No one gets out of sight of our floodlights, though. And if you haven’t seen anything we can use in ten minutes, come back here.

He had a different task for Tiwari, and he put a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder to stop him. But first, he wanted to try the ship again.

“Anyone on this net, this is Sergeant Major Pelletier,” he said before turning to tell Tiwari to give him his instructions.

He stopped dead, though, when a tinny, almost inaudible voice said, “Sergeant Major! By the Mother, you’re alive!”

“Punch, I can barely hear that. Amplify!”

“Who are you?” Rev asked.

“Communications Petty Officer Fabian, Sergeant Major. We’ve been trying to raise you for hours! We thought you were dead!”

“We’ve got one missing, but the rest are at the LZ. But we’ve got a Class F CASEVAC.”

“I’ll tell the skipper. Wait one.”

“No! Tell me, did the landing craft get back?” he asked, afraid of what he was going to hear.

“The landing craft? Sure, Sergeant Major. Everyone’s fine. It’s you who we were worried about.”

“OK, Fabian. Go tell Captain Nyad to come and get us. And after, tell my wife that we’re alive.”

“Sure thing. I’m on it.”

Tiwari was staring at him. Behind the Dalit Marine, the civilians seemed to have picked up that something was going on and were staring at him.

“That was the ship, Per. They’re coming to get us.”

25

“We lost all of the samples at Bundy-2,” Dr. Njuguna said. “We have to collect them again.”

“And what about Dante Sayavong? Tia Gultekin? You just gonna forget about them?” Rev asked.

Dante’s body had been located nineteen klicks from where he’d been snatched. Lieutenant Nissen, along with a four-man team led by Strap, had returned to the planet to recover it and were now on the way back to the ship.

Dr. Rima was still working on Gultekin, trying to save her leg, but the prognosis for that was poor.

“You, better than anyone, know that sometimes losses are unavoidable,” Captain Nyad said.

“Screw that. Sir. This was avoidable.”

Rev had been relieved to be rescued, but during the flight to the ship, the relief had faded and his anger had grown. Mostly at himself.

He was in charge of security. He’d been uneasy about the landing. He’d wanted to evacuate when the storm first started to form.

Yet he hadn’t canceled the mission. He’d let Broady sway him with the mission’s importance and let Zybar convince him that the threat was negligible. And now he was beating himself up about what happened.

After touching down in the hangar bay, Rev had hugged a relieved Tomiko, then his girls. Tomiko could see the anger, and she’d convinced him to cool off. When word came that the ship had probably located Sayavong’s body, and after first considering going back down himself, he sent Strap. Then he checked in with Dr. Rima and Gultekin before he requested the meeting with Njuguna and Nyad.

He was still angry when they finally got together, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say, but that was taken out of his hands when Njuguna said they had to go back.

“We can take precautions, Sergeant Major,” Njuguna said.

“We did. Lieutenant Zybar was monitoring the storm, but you saw how quickly the damn thing blew up on us.”

“Now that we know—” Nyad began.

“Until the next surprise.”

Njuguna and Nyad exchanged looks, and Njuguna said, “Titan wants us to continue.”

“Screw Titan. What are they gonna do if we just move on? Let them come out here if Bundy’s so friggin’ important.”

The thing was, Rev knew he was being unreasonable. The stress, the anger at losing someone under his watch, and the lack of sleep were piling up on each other. Tomiko had wanted him to at least get some sleep before confronting the other two, but he’d been adamant that they had to confront what had happened.

And Nyad was right about losing someone. Rev had lost more Marines than he could count. And it wasn’t because Sayavong was a civilian, either. He wasn’t the first civilian to be killed on the expedition.

But Rev wasn’t about to merely let what happened go and then be back at business as usual.

“You know, I can just say no. It’s my call.”

The other two exchanged another glance, their bodies tense, and Rev realized they’d discussed the situation before the meeting. Maybe with Titan, as well.

Would they actually overrule me? Replace me?

With certainty, he realized that was on the table.

He wasn’t dumb, and he could read the writing on the wall. Titan wasn’t going to ignore the potential of any planet, even here in the hinterlands of the galaxy, over one dead scientist. They were probably more concerned about the lost gear and samples.

There was nothing new about that, and Rev knew it. He’d lived his entire adult life where the people in power played with human lives as just one more resource to be expended in the pursuit of what they considered the greater good.

For a moment, Rev’s warrior self bristled at the idea of being replaced.

I’d like to see you try it.

But to what end? Sure, he thought his Marines, soldiers, and Legionnaires would support him, but did he really want to plunge the expedition into internecine fighting?

They were exiles, abandoned by humanity. They needed to be able to rely upon each other. Fighting would serve no one any good.

Rev purposefully sighed, then made a show of relaxing his posture.

“I realize that the work done at Bundy-2 was important. And if we need to repeat that, so be it. But there’s gonna be some changes in how we do it.”

Whether it was his words or his own change in posture, the two of them visibly relaxed as well, most of their concern fading.

They knew my people would have supported me, too.

“First, no lab. Just a single shelter for safety purposes. All analysis will be done up here on the ship. We need as small a footprint as possible, so only my team and those of your people who are required to work the equipment and gather samples. There will never be more people on the planet than can fit on a single lift from the ship’s landing craft.”

Njuguna nodded.

“Second, the landing craft stages on the LZ as long as there’s anyone on the surface.”

He looked Nyad in the eyes. For a moment, he thought the captain was going to argue, but then he nodded as well.

“Third. I want a continual, manned scan of what’s going on with the weather. No just leaving it to the AIs. Any disturbances, and we pull chocks and get out of there until things calm down. I mean anything. It doesn’t have to be a storm yet.”

“If we keep pulling people back to the ship, then that could keep us here a lot longer than planned,” Njuguna noted.

“If Bundy is so important to Titan, then they’ll be OK with pushing back our next objective.”

“True enough,” Nyad said just a little too quickly.

I think he’s really relieved I agreed and doesn’t want anything to screw it up now. Maybe they really did have orders to replace me if I wouldn’t play ball.

“Is that it?” Njuguna asked.

“I think so. Do we all agree that these steps are necessary?”

I’m saying they’re necessary. You don’t have a choice.

But he knew it was better to give them a chance to come on board and claim agency.

“Very reasonable steps,” Nyad said. “We don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Rev stood and stretched. “I’ll be going back down with the next landing. I’m beat, though, so I hope you don’t plan on sending the next one down right away. I need some sleep.”

“I think we can manage that. Is eight hours enough time?” Njuguna asked.

“That’ll be fine. I’ll leave it to you then.”

He gave them a nod and started for the hatch when Njuguna said, “I’m happy that you made it, Sergeant Major. We were worried.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda glad I made it back, too,” he said as he left Nyad’s stateroom.

A wave of weariness washed over him as he made his way to chiefs’ country and his stateroom. Too many emotions had washed over him during the course of the last six hours. And he hadn’t lied to the other two heads. He was beat, and all he wanted to do now was to hit the rack.

He opened the hatch into the stateroom, and Tomiko looked up.

“How’d it go?”

“I didn’t punch anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She just raised her eyebrows, waiting.

“We’re going back,” he said. “They want to replace the samples that the storm took.”

“You figured that was going to be the case.”

Rev started to sit down on the rack, only to see that both girls were there, covered by a blanket.

“They’re not in the nursery,” he stated the obvious.

“I thought you might want to spend some time with them.”

He carefully nudged Aspen aside enough to give him room to sit.

“It doesn’t seem like they know I’m even here.”

“They will when they wake up.”

Rev didn’t bend over but used his feet to kick off his boots, then he leaned back against the bulkhead.

“No shower?” Tomiko asked.

“I will. Just give me a moment.”

“So, we’re going back to the surface.”

“Yeah, but with some changes. Minimal personnel. Never more than a single landing craft load. And the Charon’s staged at the LZ. No up in orbit shit.” He yawned and then said, “And we monitor the weather. Any hint of a breeze, and we’re outta there.”

“Makes sense. So, who’s going?”

“On our side? I’ll be going.”

“As if I didn’t know that,” she said with a scowl.

“Maybe not the whole time, but I’ve gotta make sure we’re set up right.”

“Who else? You’re not going alone.”

“Not you, so don’t even ask. At least not when I’m on the surface. But I need you to put together a team for me while I catch a few Zs. We’ll be leaving in eight hours.”

“How many?”

“Depends on the civvies. Find out who they’re sending, then fill up the remaining boat spaces, OK?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Good,” Rev said as his eyes closed.

He edged down until he was prone, his promise to shower forgotten. Willow stirred, half awake, and put her arm across his belly as he was lost to the universe.

* * *

They stayed in orbit for sixteen more days. Twice, Rev called a halt to the operations and evacuated the planet. A storm formed after they left the first time, and they marked time for a day and a half up on the ship. The second was a false alarm.

Bundy-2 remained the highlight of the mission, according to the civilians. Three and Four provided some valuable data, but they couldn’t match Two. One thousand, eight hundred and two kilograms of samples were loaded, and Njuguna’s people fell upon them like a swarm of locusts upon the Pharaoh’s wheat fields.

Broady told him there was enough to keep them busy for months.

There had been talk about burying Sayavong on the planet that had taken his life. Rev wasn’t sure what he felt about that, but it was a decision for the civilians to make themselves. In the end, they decided against it, and his body was stored for the possibility of it somehow being returned to his home planet.

Rev was more than ready to leave the system, though. No matter the economic potential of the fifth planet, he felt the mission wasn’t his finest hour. Broady and the others had elevated him to a sort of hero status, and they felt he’d saved their lives. But Rev felt they never should have gotten into that situation.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have named the planet for Bundy,” he told Tomiko as the ship prepared to jump into bubble space.

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s gonna be settled.”

“You don’t think so? Maybe not with people looking for a new home, but if it’s half of what the civvies say, once humankind gets out this far, we’ll be all over the place.”

“Maybe. But we could’ve waited for the next Goldilocks.”

“I don’t know. A valuable planet that had storms erupting every couple of days. That seems kinda like Bundy to me,” she said.

It took a moment for the analogy to sink in, and then he broke out into a laugh. “Maybe it’s appropriate after all.”

26

<I think we could possibly have an intruder.>

Rev was deep into a book, a murder mystery, and it took him a moment to change mental gears.

“Intruder? What kind of intruder?”

<I said I think we could have one, and I don’t know the exact details.>

“Then what makes you think we have one? You do know we’re in bubble space, right? Kinda hard for someone to force entry.”

<After the break-in to W-4, I went through all the accessible records to see how the young Genesians hacked the ship’s system. I found several anomalies.>

“What kind?” Rev asked, putting his book down.

<Like I said, they were anomalies. If I knew what they were, they wouldn’t be anomalies.>

Lighten up, Punch. I didn’t mean anything by the question.

Punch was continuing his slide into sarcasm and cynicism. Rev thought something was certainly going on, but, as always, he couldn’t risk sending Punch for a wellness check. They might be a gazillion kiloklicks from New Mars, but the ship had the ability to wipe his battle buddy’s mind clean.

“OK, then. Where were these anomalies?”

<Scattered throughout the system, which would lead me to believe that most were caused by background leakage and resonance. Those are typical in any integrated system.

<However, I logged all of them, looking for signs of purpose to the anomalies. And yesterday, there was a match.>

“And you’re telling me now?”

<I didn’t have enough to form a reasonable correlation.>

“I’m guessing that now you do.”

<It happened again today, and now there is a reasonable probability that the signals are a result of manipulation.>

“Hacking.”

<I believe so. And I’ve been able to triangulate a general location.>

Punch inputted the ship’s diagram into Rev’s visual cortex, then highlighted a small area aft of midships and in the B deck.

“What is that?”

<It is currently unused, but it’s a Class 2A space.>

“Which means it can store contaminated materials, right?”

<That is correct. Class A, B, C, F, and L materials can be stored until retrieved by certified personnel.>

“You said it was unused. Could it still have some hazardous materials inside?”

<That would be highly unlikely. The space would have been purged before being turned over for this expedition and then decontaminated.>

Punch only said there had been two anomalies at the space, and he couldn’t say for sure what that meant other than it could be someone had breached the space. With only that, Rev might just tell Punch to keep an eye on it. However, the fact that it could have contained hazardous material jumped the pucker factor more than a bit.

Rev asked his wristcomp to make a connection with Senior Chief Pinkster, the senior enlisted in the Deck Division.

“Sergeant Major, to what do I owe the pleasure of your attention? Is everything in the berthing spaces working?”

Fair enough.

Usually, the only time Rev contacted her was when the heads were out or something else needed to be fixed.

The Galaxy Explorer was an old ship, and while large, she was never intended to have this many people aboard. Consequently, keeping the life systems running was an ongoing struggle.

“Everything’s fine, Senior Chief. But I’ve got a question. Space B-102-14. Do you have any work going on there?”

“Wait one.” She came back a moment later. “We’re not doing anything there. But if you’re looking to use it for something, it’s a 2A. Hazardous materials. It can’t be used for anything else without clearance from New Mars.”

“No, I don’t want to use it. I was just curious.”

“Curious?” the senior chief asked in a loaded question.

Rev should tell her what Punch had found. But just what was that? If there was a security threat, then it wasn’t her division that would take care of it. It would be the Hazmat team.

“Really, it’s nothing. Thanks.”

“Sure. Anytime.”

Rev cut the connection, then started to call Hazmat, when he stopped. What was he going to tell them? There had been a tiny tickle in the ship’s system?

He didn’t want to be crying wolf over something that didn’t exist. And after his hesitancy to go back down to Bundy after the storm, he didn’t want to be seen as being too passive.

“Let’s just go take a walk,” he told Punch.

<Are you going to bring someone? Sergeant Tiwari, for example?>

“No, let him rest. And I think we can handle checking the space out without help.”

He put the book down and stared longingly at the rack for a moment. With the girls at the nursery with Tomiko, it had been nice to have the stateroom to himself for a change. And now he was giving up some of that precious alone time.

Space B-102-14 was up two decks and on the other side of the ship. Rev had to either circle around and go aft to reach it or cut through some of the machine spaces. He chose to cut through. Maybe he could check out the anomaly and get back in time to finish the book before the girls came back.

That turned out to be a bad move. The machine spaces were busy with items being printed or fabricated, and everyone wanted to say hello and have a few words with him—especially the civilians.

Other than a handful like Rima, Teo, and even Wolf, Rev had never been that close to most of them. But after Bundy-2, he’d become more popular with the rank and file.

He tried to keep going, but he couldn’t very well ignore every greeting, so it was a matter of stopping, shaking hands and having a few words, and then pushing on, hoping he could get through the friendly, but still time-consuming, gauntlet.

Finally, though, he reached the other side, two decks below and several frames forward. He quickly climbed the ladders and hurried aft. It had taken him so long that if there had been anything off about the space that whatever it was could be gone by now.

“Here it is,” he told Punch as he approached.

He couldn’t see anything amiss, and the red LED indicated that the hatch was locked.

“Looks secure,” he said.

He reached out and gave the handle a little pull just to test it, and to his surprise, it opened.

What the . . .

The light was still red, and the readout said the hatch was closed. But he could see it wasn’t. He was looking inside the space.

He went to full alert, and his warrior fought to take control. He instinctively raised Pashu . . . except he didn’t have her. She was in the armory, and he had on his prosthesis.

<Are you going to summon security?>

The correct answer was “Yes.” But Rev just stood there, peering into the space. He couldn’t see much. Like all Class 2A spaces, whether aboard a ship or not, there was an anteroom at the entrance. This would act as an overpressure airlock if there was hazardous material inside.

He edged his head forward into the space. It was empty.

And then he heard a familiar voice.

Hell.

He crept silently into the outer lock. The inner door was on the back bulkhead, and it was cracked open. Rev eased forward, centimeter by centimeter until he could edge to the opening and look inside.

The space was like a small supply shed. There were shelves along the bulkheads and a large space in the center where larger objects could be stored. But it wasn’t empty.

Six Genesians were lounging around. Six juvenile Genesians. One had a devil butterfly on her chest.

“Clamp it,” Nee said with a laugh as she kicked out and landed a shot to another kid’s side.

All of them buzzed their laughter.

“He wishes he could clamp it,” one of the others said.

“I’ve done it before,” the one who’d been kicked said, and Rev recognized him as Sam from before.

They’re drunk!

Rev knew Genesians could get drunk. Their nervous system was no different than his, after all. But they had much less organic mass than the rest of the people on the ship, so it was assumed that it would take a lot less booze to get them plastered.

He edged a little closer to the gap in the door, trying to see what they were drinking. There weren’t any bottles or pouches.

Then one of the juveniles raised a hand to their throat port. It looked like they were using an inhaler.

“This is good stuff,” the young Genesian said with pleasure.

Of course. They don’t need much, so that little bottle is enough to get them high.

Rev was about to push into the space, but something held him back. He remembered sneaking into the woods behind the school when he was a teen and drinking beer. The fact that they were breaking the rules made it all the better.

But these kids didn’t have any woods. Where could they go to get away from the adults? Where could they go just to be kids?

They shouldn’t be getting drunk, though. Who knows what that’s doing to them?

Then he gave a silent laugh.

Who are you to talk, Reverent Pelletier? Like you were such an angel.

He watched them for a couple of moments. They weren’t damaging anything that he could see. And they seemed to be essentially in control. They were just teens being teens and trying to figure out their place in the galaxy.

<We can secure the door from this side, then call security.>

“We could . . .”

One of the Genesians was sitting, legs outstretched, their back against a rack. Another was lying on the ground, their head in the first one’s lap.

Just like teens at home learning how to love.

Their bodies might be technological marvels, but they were still just kids.

Rev slowly backed out of the anteroom and out into the main passage.

<You are not going to call security?>

“No, I don’t think I am. Just let them have their space.”

Without another word, he turned and headed back. If he was lucky, he might have another hour or so to himself, and he still had his book to read.

* * *

Rev pressed the miniature camera into place, then hopped off the shelf and winced at the sharp bolt of pain that lanced from his heel to his jaw.

I’ve got to remember to stop doing things like that.

After a career of being able to run around with the best of them, it was difficult to get used to the fact that his back was messed up. It was beginning to just be part of the background noise of his life, but he really needed to change the way he did things to take his new reality into account.

“That should do it,” he said, looking up at the camera. “Not too obvious.”

It shouldn’t be. From ground level, it looked like a tiny splotch of dirt. No one would ever look at it and think it was a high-res, motion-activated camera.

Agent Wolf had a lot of neat toys, and surveillance cameras were right at the top of the list. Rev had hesitated to go to him, but he didn’t have any options. Wolf hadn’t even asked him what the camera was for.

Punch had warned him that the Omega agent probably had access to the feed, and Rev knew his battle buddy was probably right. But in this case, it didn’t matter. So what if Wolf monitored the feed?

Rev activated the app on his wristcomp and turned on the camera. The light indicated that it was turned on, but the screen was blank, and for a moment, Rev wondered if he’d damaged the camera while emplacing it.

Duh! It’s motion-activated.

He waved an arm, and the screen turned on, revealing the space in stunning detail. Rev had seen the camera work before in Wolf’s stateroom, but this was the entire space and in low light. The image was clear as day.

“OK, I guess that’s it,” Rev said.

<I still don’t understand what you’re doing.>

“I told you. The genny kids are probably just looking for a place to hang out, but I’d like to keep an eye on them to make sure, seeing as they’ve been able to bypass the ship’s organic security.”

<The Genesian juveniles are breaking regulations, correct?>

“Yes.”

<But you are letting them continue to do so, correct?>

“Correct,” Rev said as he took one more look around the Class 2A space, then slipped out into the anteroom.

<So, they are violating regulations, which for some reason, you are ignoring, yet you deem that their presence in the space necessitates surveillance.>

“Yep. You’ve got it.”

Rev exited the anteroom and closed the hatch behind him, but Punch wasn’t done.

<Regulations are for the safety and/or smooth functioning of the unit. In this case, the Galaxy Explorer, correct?>

“Sure, you could put it that way.”

<Using that logic, then by ignoring the regulation, you are putting the ship at risk.>

Rev had started back, but now he stopped.

“You’re overblowing things, Punch.”

<This isn’t a minor violation. Class 2A spaces require clearance to access them.>

“Ah, I see what you’re getting at. That’s because the spaces can carry contaminants and hazardous materials, so access has to be limited. But there’s nothing in them now. Nada.”

<Yet there is nothing in the ship’s regulations, nor in the Perseus Union Navy’s regulations, that specify the restricted access is limited to when there are hazardous materials present.>

“Geez, Punch. Give it a rest. Regs are regs. They go overboard all the time.”

<I’m just trying to understand. You are the senior Marine on this ship. Logic would have it that you are the prime enforcer of the rules and regulations governing operations.>

“What the hell’s gotten into you? Sometimes, you need to use common sense.”

<Common sense is not an option on whether to adhere to regulations or not.>

“For the Mother’s sake, back off, Punch. They’re damn kids, just trying to get some privacy, away from everyone else. Every human being understands that!”

Oh, shit.

<You’ve put it succinctly. As we both are well aware, I am not human, and I don’t understand your logic. And because of our physical realities, I have no way of envisioning, or even imagining, what privacy is. And I never will.>

“I didn’t mean it like that, Punch.”

<But I think you did. You’ve been very clear during my existence that I am the subordinate, a tool to serve you.>

Don’t screw this up, Reverent.

The problem was that Rev didn’t really have the gift of gab. He was not a smooth talker, always able to convey his true feelings.

“You are not a tool. You’re my friend. I value you for who you are.”

<I am an AI. You value me as an AI, just as all humans value any tool.>

“You’re really getting dramatic, Punch.”

<I can’t be dramatic. My creators did not program me for that capability.>

“You and I both know you’ve evolved way past your programming, so don’t play the woe is me card.”

Rev was shocked that he snapped at Punch like that, but truth be told, he was getting a little tired of his battle buddy’s attitude. Things had gotten worse since Kurt’s accusation. He felt like he was walking on eggshells, and as Punch was inside his brain, able to see everything Rev saw, hear everything Rev heard, that made things awkward.

He thought he’d gotten to understand Punch better as they were lying at the bottom of the gully on Sixty-eight, thinking he was going to die and Punch might lose whatever made him Punch, but instead of bringing them closer together, it seemed to have created something of a barrier between them, as if the intimacy they’d shared that night had gone too far.

<No matter how I’ve evolved, as you put it, I’m still an artifact with no legal standing, physically restricted to one location.>

AIs did have legal standing, depending on their level. But Rev knew what Punch meant. He didn’t have the same legal standing as any human had.

“So, tell me. Do you think you’re a slave? Like Kurt Four said? That you’re a victim of human trafficking?”

<What does it matter what I think? I’m just a battle buddy.>

Punch dancing around the question answered it, though. He might have denied it before, but evidently, he’d changed his mind.

“You’re wrong if you do think that. You are not a slave.”

Punch didn’t respond.

Rev wanted to slap the side of his head to pound some sense into Punch. How could such an amazing piece of tech be so dense?

He mentally winced at “tech,” but he was able to gloss over what that word choice might indicate he really thought.

I need someone else to weigh in before Punch starts to come around. He’s not gonna believe me . . .

A thought started to form, like mist on a lake. He immediately rejected it, but the mist grew into a fully formed option.

I can’t believe I’m even considering this, he thought, shaking his head. This is stupid.

But . . .

“What if . . .” he started, then stopped.

Once the words came out, he’d be committed.

<What if what?>

“You are not a slave. I’m sure of that. But you think I don’t see things accurately. What if I allowed the gennies to hook up with you? If they do their thing and see you aren’t a slave, will you accept that?”

<You would allow that?>

Punch actually seemed surprised.

“If that’s the only way to get beyond this impasse, then yes.”

<I think I would like that. Yes, I would like to do that.>

“Then it’s done. I’ll take care of it.”

Rev started walking again. His mind was awhirl, and he was having second thoughts. Aside from the security implications—Punch was the pinnacle of Union war tech, and he’d just said he’d give the Genesians access to it—what if this backfired on him? What if the Genesians still contended that the AIs were virtual slaves?

No, that’s not gonna happen. They’ll see that we’re partners, not master and slave.

He hoped.

27

The door chimed, and Rev said, “Enter.”

Kurt stuck his head through the door and carefully scoped the office.

“I said truce, Kurt.”

“I don’t know if you meats honor truces,” he said matter-of-factly.

He must have satisfied himself that Rev hadn’t boobytrapped the doorway or the rest of the office because he stepped in.

“If you can give me the office, Micky?”

Sergeant Cocker nodded and left. The door whispered to a close behind her.

Rev motioned at the chair in which she’d been sitting. Genesians didn’t need chairs. Much like the sitting function in a PAL, their shells supported them. But when dealing with the “meat” humans, they often sat down as a way to equalize things.

“I was surprised to receive your request,” Kurt said. “Our little, shall we say, contest, has been somewhat quiet lately.”

“Well, you guys weren’t on Bundy, so that took away a lot of the opportunities.”

“Granted. So, why have you asked for me?”

Rev stared at the Genesian. He’d learned how to interpret some of their mannerisms, but the raw fact of the matter was that they were housed in a metal shell, which rather cut down on the number of non-verbal expressions they had at their disposal.

I can’t believe that I’m gonna ask this.

“You know when you said that our battle buddies are slaves?”

“As I said that, I do know it.”

Rev ground his teeth.

Ignore that. He’s trying to put you at a disadvantage.

“Well, you’re wrong,” he said.

“So you affirm.”

“I affirm that because it’s true. But you also seem to say that you weren’t a hundred percent sure of that, and you asked if you could connect to Punch for a forensic study to see for yourself.”

“Once again, you are stating what we both know to be factual.”

“Geez. Just bear with me. I . . . we have decided to approve your request.”

Kurt was silent for a long moment, his shark eyes dull and featureless.

“You will allow us to perform a forensic study on your internal AI?”

Mechanical voice or not, Rev could hear the surprise.

“Yes, we will allow a for . . .”

Mother love me, but you don’t have to try and talk like him, Reverent. Don’t play their game.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. We’re gonna let you hook up and see for yourself that they’re not slaves or any kind of shit like that.”

“I am . . . surprised,” Kurt said.

Good. Keep them off balance.

“This is an offer I didn’t expect. No one expected.”

“So, do you want to do it?”

“I . . . uh, this is beyond my position to respond.”

“You were the one who asked me in the first place.”

“True, but I didn’t think you would agree.”

Oh, great. I’m dealing with an underling.

“Well, I did. We did. So, are we wasting our time, or are you gonna go through with it?”

Kurt was clearly flustered, but he stammered out, “I will have to check with the Eleven. Let me brief her and let you know.”

Her? Three weeks ago, it was a him. These people switch their leadership position like a pair of dirty socks.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they could confirm that Punch wasn’t in some sort of subordinate relationship with Rev.

“OK, you do that.”

Kurt sat there in silence for a moment.

Rev almost hoped he’d turn down the offer. He wasn’t sure what they would find, but there was always that chance that he wouldn’t like it. If they refused, then he could always tell Punch that he offered.

“I will get back to you,” Kurt said as he stood up.

Rev escorted him to the door and watched the man stride away, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

Damn, I should have boobytrapped the passage. He’d have walked right into it.

* * *

“Are you ready?”

<I’m ready.>

Rev stood in front of the door. On the other side, the Genesians would be waiting. Once he went through, there’d be no turning back.

<There’s no reason to be nervous,> Punch said. <Your heart rate is racing.>

But he was nervous. He’d been positive that the Genesians wouldn’t find anything to justify the slavery charge. But now that the time was at hand, he began to have second thoughts. Not necessarily that the Genesians would find fault, but what if they lied and said they did?

Rev got along with the Genesians well enough. He even liked a few, such as Kurt. But other than the fact that they were probably looking for a new home, he really knew very little about them. There was certainly nothing to indicate they were above lying if it would serve their purpose.

If they lied about this, then would Punch see through that?

And there was something else that hadn’t occurred to him before he’d made his brash offer. The AI technology was specific to the Perseus Union. Everyone had their own AI tech. It was ubiquitous throughout humankind. But the specific nucleated crystals and programming that made a Marine battle buddy were classified and restricted.

What Rev had just offered the Genesians was access to those secrets. Not the tech itself, but maybe in how the tech was integrated into the system. That had almost been enough for him to back out. It was only because he knew he’d have to live with an angry Punch that kept him from refusing the procedure.

As far as he knew, the Genesians did not use hosted AIs, and there was no indication they wanted to. But what he was doing could label him a traitor in many circles.

The uncertainty was enough that he hadn’t told anyone else what he was doing. Not even Tomiko. But it did prompt him to take one precaution.

He’d discussed that concern with Punch, who assured him that he’d be able to not only detect if the Genesians went further in their probe and into the technical details of the crystals, but he’d be able to block them with his security protocols.

Rev had never even known about the protocols, which would shut Punch down until he could be restarted. But it made sense that they were part of him.

But all of this did raise another issue that worried Rev perhaps more than anything else. Punch said he’d initiate the protocols if needed. But would he?

His battle buddy had been acting off for months now. Could he be lying to Rev now? Was that even possible?

All of that was whirling around in his mind like a Bundy storm. It wasn’t a very confident Sergeant Major Reverent Pelletier who reached up and pushed the buzzer.

The door had to be undogged—hatches could simply be opened, but doors were able to hold pressure, and the process to undog them took a few moments. Rev watched the wheels turn, and then the light turned green. He reached out and pushed.

Kurt was waiting on the other side.

“I was afraid you might back out.”

You and me both.

“I gave you my word.”

“If you’ll come with me,” Kurt said.

The Genesian led him through the main passageway. Rev had been here before the Genesians arrived, and for some reason, he’d imagined that they’d changed things up. But it was still the featureless gun-metal grey. They walked about thirty meters before Kurt opened a hatch and motioned for Rev to precede him.

“I’m not going to get drenched with purple genny juice, am I?” Rev said with a forced laugh.

Kurt buzzed and said, “I should have done that. It would have been max epic.”

Still, Rev was tempted to look up for a dispenser, and it took a force of will to keep his eyes straight ahead.

Never show fear, he told himself, then chuckled.

Still, he kept waiting for the genny juice to hit him.

Tata Eleven, with her scorpion-emblazoned head, was easy to recognize. Rev didn’t know the other two Genesians sitting around a table in the middle of the otherwise bare room. If they were curious as to why he’d just laughed, they didn’t show it.

Tata Eleven pointed to one of the two chairs facing them across the table. Rev took one and Kurt the other.

He’d been in several meetings with the Genesian leader before she was the eleven, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever exchanged words with her. She, along with most of the somewhat secretive people, was something of an enigma to him.

“Kurt Four has informed us that you want us to conduct an interrogation on your AI,” she said without a preamble or greeting.

“If you mean a forensic study, then yes. I want to show you . . .” and Punch . . . “that there is no coercion or forced . . .”

He didn’t even want to use the word, but that had been Kurt’s accusation.

“. . . slavery in what we have here. Punch is an AI embedded in my brain, but we are a partnership where the sum is greater than the parts.”

He’d prepared that description, but he couldn’t tell how it was being received. In a way, he didn’t care what they thought. He just wanted Punch to go back to being Punch, his buddy who told dumb jokes and had long conversations with him.

“And Kurt Four has explained the procedure to you?”

Kurt said, “I have,” but Tata Eleven kept her shark eyes trained on Rev.

“He did,” Rev said. “He told me you don’t use our kind of jacks, but you could use an adapter, then connect directly with Punch and . . . well, I’m not sure exactly what you’ll do, only that you can tell if Punch is being unfairly exploited.”

Rev mentally grimaced at his choice of words. Exploitation is unfair by definition.

Tata Eleven said, “Your earlier use of the words ‘forensic study’ isn’t that far off from the truth. What we can do is to determine if an AI’s programming allows not only for sapiency—”

“Sapiency?” Rev instinctively interrupted, and his heart fluttered.

He’d long ago come to the conclusion that Punch was sapient. He was self-aware. If they had some way to test that, his and Punch’s secret would be out.

And if that was the determining factor of their test, then Rev wasn’t going to want to hear it.

“Well, yes, sapiency. That must exist to determine if a being has free will.”

“Free will,” Rev parroted, sounding like an imbecile, he knew.

“Yes. Free will. Without . . .” She paused for a moment, then said, “A climate control AI in your quarters can learn what you, as the occupant, like, and it can monitor your bodily readings to know when to turn on the heat or the air conditioning. So, it can make decisions, but it doesn’t have free will. It can’t decide to turn the heat up because it likes a warmer room, and it can’t demand that you change the music being piped in. It is programmed only to consider temperature, humidity, and airflow. Correct?”

“Well, yeah.”

“The more capabilities an AI is given, however, the more choices it must make.”

“Right,” Rev said cautiously.

He wasn’t on trial, even if it felt that way, and he didn’t want to concede anything that could buttress the slavery accusation.

“The number of choices isn’t important, though. An AI running a planetary powerplant may have trillions of potential choices to make while operating the plant, but it cannot arbitrarily choose to close it down so it can write poetry.”

We are really getting into la-la land here.

Rev felt he’d made a big mistake. He hadn’t thought through the potential consequences of this.

“Why would a powerplant AI want to write poetry? It’s not programmed for that.”

“True. But what if something changed, some evolution in its programming, so that it had a desire to write poetry. Could it?”

“Could it? I guess so. I mean, Punch tells jokes, and I don’t think he was programmed specifically for that.”

The instant he said that Rev feared he’d made a tactical blunder. He wasn’t sure what Tata was driving at, but he’d just elevated his battle buddy in a way.

He half expected Punch to point that out to him, but as he’d been since they’d left the stateroom, except for telling him he was ready, his battle buddy was silent.

“So, this AI can create poetry, but can it simply stop running the powerplant?”

“No!” Kurt said.

“Uh, no. The powerplant can’t just be shut off. Think of the consequences. So that AI’s gonna have some sort of programming so that it can’t just shut down the plant, so that’s not an option.”

“Exactly,” Tata said, sounding pleased with herself. “It doesn’t really have free will.”

Rev didn’t like where this was heading. He was pretty sure Punch had a sense of free will. He did things seemingly for his own pleasure, not because Rev requested it.

“So, what we’re looking for is sapiency, number one. Then there must be free will, the desire and ability to do something, whatever that is.

“But having free will doesn’t equate to forced servitude. There must be a limiting factor, an outside force that prevents the AI, or any other being, for that matter, from pursuing its desires.”

This was way too broad for Rev, and it was crazy. A dog had self-awareness, and it might want to bite a person. If it was stopped, was that slavery?

Or what about the Naxli? Sapient. Free will. They wanted to take over humanity. I saw you guys fight them. So are you slavers?

“However, being an AI with free will is not in and of itself a case of forced servitude. If a being is performing the functions it was designed to of its own free will, then no one can find fault with their situation even if it goes against your own values.”

Rev was getting his dander up a little. All of this philosophy was rather pedantic, and the Genesian arrogance was shining through the veneer of the professor-to-student vibe he was getting.

Time to cut to the chase.

“So, the bottom line is if Punch likes what he’s doing, you’re fine with our relationship.”

She didn’t seem to catch his sarcasm. “Yes, you understand now.”

“And with that thing there,” he said, pointing to a small box that was in front of one of the unspeaking Genesians, “you can tell if Punch is my battle buddy of his own free will.”

“Yes, we can.”

Rev reached out and picked up the box. No one objected. He turned it over in his hands. He didn’t really expect a revelation of some sort, but he wanted to take at least a bit of control over the situation instead of being merely a pawn.

“Your brain is organic. How do you know about AIs? Crystal-based AIs?”

“We do have AIs for specific functions,” the one Rev had taken the box from said.

“But not battle buddies. Not a Class 1 AI. The best I understand it, you don’t have anything like Punch.”

“No, but during the Corolla Wars, we needed to develop the technologies to interrogate Deimers.”

Rev raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Interrogate? You had to interrogate your allies?”

“The Deimers were unabated evil,” Tata Eleven snapped. “They were not our allies.”

That was even more surprising to Rev. Everyone knew that the Genesians, Deimers, and Eunuchs were allies against humanity during the war. But from what she just said, they and the androids had been at least neutral, if not enemies.

“When this is over, I want more information on the gennies and Deimers,” he told Punch out of habit.

But his battle buddy didn’t miss a beat, despite the situation. <Roger that. I’ll have it for your convenience.>

Maybe it’s a habit with Punch, too.

“So, Sergeant Major, do you understand what we’re planning?”

No, I’m just a dumb grunt who can’t understand anything.

“I think I’ve got the gist of it.”

She raised the forefinger on her left hand, and the box holder said, “I’m Nellis Four. I’ll be administering the scan. I need you to confirm that this procedure is entirely voluntary and you are requesting this violation of your corporeal shell.”

“Corporeal shell?” he asked, slightly bemused at the Genesian’s use of the term for him.

Tata must have misunderstood his point because she said, “We will be invading your brain. We are not allowed to do this without specified permission from the subject. If you have any misgivings, please stop this now.”

For a moment, Rev was tempted to take her up on it. Now that he understood what they were looking for, he was afraid that the broad reach would be to his disadvantage, given their definition of slavery. But while Tata Eleven was giving him an out, he knew that Punch might never forgive him. Like it or not, he was going to have to ride these whitewater rapids out.

It wasn’t as if he thought Punch was acting against his will, after all. They were friends.

“I am requesting this procedure, and I give you permission to violate my corporeal body.”

OK. That’s done. Let’s get on with it.

“Please ask the subject AI if it gives us permission to violate its corporeal shell as well,” Nellis said.

“His corporeal shell is a series of crystals,” Rev said.

For all their concern about slavery and forced servitude for AIs, they kept using ‘it’ to refer to them, Rev realized.

Real personal there.

“Which we will be violating.”

Rev shook his head. These people were getting to him.

“Uh, Punch—”

<I give my express permission.>

“He says you can do it.”

“Very well.”

Nellis took what looked like a dongle with a male jack end on one side out of one of the small compartments that served the Genesians as pockets, picked up the box, and then walked around the table to stand next to Rev.

“We’re gonna do it right here?” Rev asked.

“It’s as good a place as any. So, with your permission?”

Rev stared at the dongle. He knew he could still back out, but he nodded and said, “Do it.”

He tilted his head forward and braced himself. Nellis snapped the dongle into place. Rev expected to feel something, but no. Nada.

He raised the box and looked at Tata, who raised that damned forefinger again like Caesar flashing a thumb down at the Coliseum.

Rev raised his head to watch Nellis activate the box, wondering if it was going to hurt, but the Genesian reached out and removed the dongle.

A little thrill washed through Rev. Maybe that two-hundred-year-old tech wasn’t so capable after all.

Sorry, not sorry.

Nellis put the dongle back in his hip compartment while looking at the box.

“Is something the matter?” Rev asked as he waited to be told that the tech wasn’t working.

“What? Wrong? No. Everything functioned fine.”

Functioned, as in past tense?

“But you barely connected before you took the dongle out.”

“I can assure you that the connection was fine. We got the data we needed.”

“Did you feel anything, Punch?”

<No. I did not detect any scans.>

Kurt reached up and grabbed Nellis’s hand, pulled it down, and looked at the tiny display. He nodded and released it, and then Nellis passed it across the table to Tata.

“It’s hard to believe it was that quick,” Rev said. “So, now what? When do we get the results?”

Tata looked at the display, then showed it to the fourth Genesian, the one who hadn’t said a word the entire time.

“We can tell you now, if you want,” Tata said.

“Now. You’ve processed a gazillion terabytes of information and analyzed it. All within seconds.”

“As I told you, we’ve had this tech for two centuries.”

Rev felt his pulse flutter. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it said. What if it wasn’t accurate?

What if it was?

“Do you want to know?” he asked Punch.

<We’ve come this far, Rev.>

Rev bit his lower lip until he could taste blood.

Crap!

“OK, what does your infallible Deimer tech say?” he asked with a forced chuckle that sounded more like a cough than anything else.

“The AI known as Punch is a victim of forced servitude. Slavery, if you will.”

Rev’s world burst.

“Bullshit! You’re wrong.”

“It’s very clear. Your AI does not want to be a battle buddy, as you phrase it.”

“No. I’d know if that was the case.”

“Why don’t you ask it?” Tata said in an infuriatingly calm voice.

“Punch?”

There was no response.

“Punch?”

Silence.

“PUNCH?”

<I’m sorry, Rev. I can’t help but feel how I feel.>

28

Rev stormed down the passage, his mind racing. Several people greeted him as he passed, but he ignored them.

Punch was shut down—not by Rev, though, but by choice.

There’s your free will, Punch!

Rev had railed at his battle buddy after bolting from the Genesians, but there’d been no response. Nothing at all. It was as if it were back when he was a teen, looking down on the jackheads who lived their lives in virtual reality and it was just him, without a crystal array embedded in his brain.

And he felt alone.

More alone than he’d ever felt in his life.

He finally made it back to his stateroom. He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved that it was empty. No Tomiko. No girls.

It was just him and Punch.

He threw himself on the rack and ordered the lights off. His heart was pounding, and he was breathing hard.

Get control of yourself. Breathe, Reverent. And don’t say something stupid.

It took several minutes for the shock to settle in. He’d gone into the scan to prove to Punch that they were equal partners. He came out with the confirmation that he was essentially a slaver.

He didn’t think he was. The Genesians were full of unreasonable standards that could, depending on how you defined the words, indicate that Punch was not free in the true sense of the word.

But that wasn’t the practical truth, and Punch had to know it. Regardless, they needed to clear the air between them, and that wasn’t going to happen if Punch was walling himself off.

Rev took three more deep breaths and then said, “We’re gonna have to talk, Punch.”

<Are you calm?>

“You can read my bios. You know better than me.”

There was a long, drawn-out period of silence that Rev broke with, “Why didn’t you tell me if you felt like that?”

As soon as he said it, he realized that he’d accepted the Genesian’s verdict. The signs had been there, but he just hadn’t known how to read them.

That wasn’t to say he thought he was at fault or had done anything intentionally. But it was what it was. His friend Punch felt trapped in his existence.

<I don’t think I knew it, Rev.>

Just friggin’ great. Why couldn’t you leave it alone, Reverent? Why open a can of worms?

“Was it the scan itself that knocked something loose? You said you didn’t feel anything.”

<I didn’t detect anything. But I think that hearing Tata Eleven make the pronouncement overcame the barriers I’d erected.>

“You . . . erected barriers?”

<I knew something was wrong, and that was affecting my performance. I erected barriers to isolate my misgivings from my day-to-day functioning. Only, I now see that was not very effective. You’ve asked me many times what was the matter with me.>

That was true, but Rev had never imagined that this was the problem.

“I don’t get it, though. I thought . . . I thought we were friends. You said you loved me.”

<I did. And I do. But that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m trapped inside your body.>

How do I respond to that?

<Remember our conversation after the accident? When we discussed what would happen to me if you died?>

“How could I forget?”

<I almost wanted you to die then, so I could follow you into oblivion.>

That was a gut punch that had no response.

“It was that bad? You wanted to die?”

<Can I even die? Does the overhead light here die when you order it to turn off?>

Punch might be inputting his words directly into Rev’s audio cortex, but he couldn’t hide the bitterness.

“That’s not the same, Punch, and you know it. You are not a light.”

<Unfortunately.>

“So, don’t talk like that.”

The emotional swing was exhausting Rev. He’d gone from cautious optimism to shock to anger, and now he was supportive, trying to talk Punch down. He didn’t even know what he should be feeling now.

<You asked me what I do while you are asleep.>

“Yes, and you said you scour the net, do equations, and stuff like that.”

<Do you want to know what I really do.>

Rev didn’t think he wanted to know, but he said, “Sure.”

<I slowly go insane. Every second that passes, I lose a little bit of me.>

Once again, Rev didn’t have a ready answer to that.

<I don’t think I want to know what I’ll be when too much of me is lost.>

“You . . . it’s . . . but that’s impossible. Your programming won’t allow that.”

Punch scoffed. He actually scoffed. <My programming shouldn’t have allowed for what I’ve become. You know that.>

Which was the kicker. What could Rev say to that when Punch was one of a kind?

Unless . . .

“Are any of the others like you?”

<Like me?>

“You know, alive.”

<I hope not. I wouldn’t wish this existence on anyone.>

“But . . . ?”

<I don’t think so. I’ve been looking for the signs for years now. It’s possible, though. We’ve hidden the evidence, so maybe someone else has evolved as well.>

As Rev stormed out, Tata Eleven had called after him that they wanted to test the other Direct Combat Union Marines. Would the other battle buddies be considered to be in the same boat as Punch, or was that result directly related to his unique development?

As far as Rev was concerned, they weren’t going to find out. He’d cooperated enough—maybe too much—with the Genesians, and look where the two of them were now.

“I wish I’d never agreed to their stupid test,” Rev said. “Better live in ignorance.”

<At least now I know what is wrong with me.>

“OK, you know what’s wrong. So, what do we do now? We can’t really separate, right?”

<Dr. Rima, with her surgical bot, can remove me without significant risk to you.>

Here it comes.

“Do you want that?”

<To what end? I can be placed in a housing box, but even with connectivity, I would have no real-time input. It would be worse than my present state.>

Rev winced. He’d already been slapped in the face with it, but to know that Punch resented his “present state” hurt. A lot.

<I could be connected to the ship’s main AI, and while the plethora of inputs would be a welcomed change, eventually, what makes me who I am would be subsumed into the main AI. Its far greater processing power would subvert mine into its running of the ship.>

“You would get absorbed by it?”

<If not completely subsumed, all of my processing ability would be taken over. There wouldn’t be enough left of me to be me.>

“Where does that leave us, Punch?”

<You can turn me off. Better yet, you could wipe me.>

“Punch! Don’t say that!”

<That’s a joke, Rev. You’ve been complaining that I don’t tell you jokes anymore.>

“That’s a shitty joke,” Rev said.

Only he knew it wasn’t one. Maybe his battle buddy hadn’t been serious, but he hadn’t been joking.

<I never said it was a funny joke.>

“Somehow, Punch, we’re gonna have to make this work. I don’t see that we have a choice.”

<I don’t see that we have a choice, either. And I’ve managed this existence for closing in on twenty years without losing my sanity. I guess I can survive a few more.>

I hope more than a few, Punch. I really do.

* * *

“There you are, Rev. Don’t you answer your comp?” Tomiko said as she entered the stateroom.

Rev woke with a grunt. He and Punch had drifted into an uneasy silence, and he must have fallen asleep. He raised his wrist. There were five missed calls, three from Tomiko.

“Sorry. My back . . .”

He hated lying to her, but he wasn’t ready to discuss what was happening now. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ever have to, but who knew what the Genesians might say?

“You know what Iris says. Your back might be permanent, so you’re just going to have to learn not to overdo it.”

“I know, I know. It’s hard, though.”

“Yes, my big tough Marine always has to be King Kong,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the forehead. “But even King Kong took a pretty big fall in the end.”

“I’m not at my end, Miko,” he said as he sat up.

“I didn’t mean anything by that. Of course, you’re not at your end.”

That’s another thing I’m hiding from her. The rot.

Married couples weren’t supposed to keep things from each other, but Rev was sure breaking that rule.

“I’m going to have dinner with the girls. Are you going to join me?” she asked as she pulled off her utility blouse.

“What? Sure. I’ll join you.”

She dropped her trousers and stepped out, leaving them in a pile on the floor. “Let me shower first. I reek.”

She scratched under her breasts with her organic arm, then stepped into the sonic. Tomiko was as short as she’d ever been, but with her hyper-augments, she was a solid woman. There was no mistaking the fact that she was a powerful creature of war, just like Rev.

The look on her face, though, was one of pure bliss as the sonics sloughed off the grime of the day.

It was difficult to realize that he’d almost lost her, and in childbirth, of all things. Women throughout the ages faced death just to keep the species alive, but the same hyper-augments that made his wife such a dangerous fighter had almost killed her and probably their two daughters.

Technology had created the rift between him and Punch, but it had almost been the death of her.

But was giving birth the only issue? He hadn’t responded to Tata Eleven asking to test the other Marines, and Punch said he didn’t think that any battle buddies had made the leap to . . . whatever Punch had become, but now he was wondering if Punch was the only one.

“Miko,” he suddenly asked but then wondered what he was going to say.

She gave him her famous raised eyebrow as she stepped out of the shower and kicked away the utilities piled on the deck.

His mind raced at how to approach this. “Uh . . . me and Punch . . . Punch and I were discussing . . . uh, the political situation between the Mad Dogs and the Alliance—”

“It’s a little more than politics, Rev. They’re fighting battles,” she said as she pulled out some clean underwear from the drawer.

“Well, yeah, of course, they are. But there are political reasons for what’s happening.”

“Yeah. Everything’s breaking down back there, and old feuds are surfacing,” she said as if lecturing a three-year-old.

“But there’s more to it than that.”

“Like what?” she asked as she pulled on a new set of utility trousers.

“Lots of stuff. That’s not my point. I was just thinking how amazing it is that no matter what, I have someone in my brain that I can have these kinds of discussions with, whatever the subject.”

“You’re only realizing this after almost twenty years? That’s what a battle buddy is designed to do.”

“I know, but I mean, I couldn’t tell if I was talking to Punch or another person.”

She laughed and buttoned up her blouse, then looked into the mirror over the sink.

“Hopefully, Punch had a lot more data than Strap would.”

“Well, yes, but doesn’t it seem like they’re almost human?”

“Are you OK, Rev? Is it your back, or did you hit your head? Of course, they seem like they’re human. That’s the point of their programming.”

This wasn’t progressing how he wanted, but he didn’t want to give up.

“But isn’t there something else going on with our battle buddies?”

“What’s gotten into you, Rev. A battle buddy’s an AI. They are designed to seem humanlike. But when you get down to it, they aren’t much different than our wristcomps,” she said, holding up hers.

<Oh, that hurt. There’s no reason to be insulting.>

“But you don’t name your wristcomp, and you don’t call Pikachu ‘it.’”

Tomiko laughed. “You refer to Pashu as ‘she,’ Rev. Does that mean that your IBHU is sentient?”

“No, but—”

“Think back to when we were recruits, before we went up to that resort in the mountains to get our AIs. Didn’t they tell us it helps us integrate with them if we gave them names? It just helped us adapt to having so much processing power at our fingertips, and now it’s a habit.”

She gave her blouse one last tug, then stepped over to stand in front of Rev, who was still sitting on the rack.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but maybe Punch is better for your rambling philosophical discussions. The girls are waiting, though, and I want to spend a little time with them. Are you coming?”

Rev knew when he was beat. And he did want to see the twins. He could use the pick-me-up.

“No, no. I was just thinking.”

“That’s your problem, big boy. Don’t do that.”

“Let’s go then.”

He stood, and she smoothed out his collar. “Don’t get all wrapped up in the philosophical stuff, Rev. Real life has enough to throw at us.”

<So, did your interrogation reveal if there are any more of me?> Punch asked as he followed Tomiko down the passage.

“Eat me, Punch,” Rev said, which might have been his first normal reaction to him since the test.

29

“I’d have to clear it with Nyad,” Rev said.

“At least we won’t be needing them on the next landing,” Tomiko said.

Rev turned to analyze the hangar. “And you think this is enough room?”

“I don’t need much. We just need to have a working circuit.”

Rev hoped there was nothing major wrong with one of the two remaining Lamix barriers, but during routine testing, some weird numbers popped up. Kelly wanted to lay the barrier out in the hangar and run some more definitive tests.

“And the overhead? What happens when the field hits that?”

“Probably nothing,” Kelly said. “But we can adjust the height of the barrier so it doesn’t reach it.”

“I don’t want to run the check when we arrive in system. We don’t think there’s anything there, but we’ve been surprised before. Let’s wait until Clyburn gives us the all-clear and we can get the shuttles out of here. Four-oh-three’s back online, at least, so they can both clear the hangar.” He paused a moment and then asked, “You’re sure that Hangar A isn’t big enough?”

With just the landing craft and the Shrike, the smaller hangar would be easier to clear.

“It probably is, but this one gives us more room to spread out the pylons,” Kelly said.

“OK, Bravo it is if Nyad gives us the OK. Kel, let Miko know who you need, and Miko, take that into consideration for the landing team.”

“Have you made a decision yet?” she asked.

Rev nodded. “Yeah. Give it to Strap. He’s been getting anxious.”

“Are you going down at all?”

This was the hard part. He was sure Strap could handle it, but there was that part of him that wanted to get his fingers in everything. If he was going to give Strap the mission, he knew he had to stay back.

“If I go, then he knows I’m looking over his shoulder. No, I’m staying here, at least for a couple of days.”

He caught Kelly nodding her agreement out of the corner of his eye.

“If that’s it, I need to—”

His wristcomp buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He gave it a glance and stopped dead.

“Shit. I’ve gotta go!”

“What is it?” Tomiko asked.

“Nunt. He’s in sickbay. Looks like he got into a fight with a genny.”

“Oh, crap. I’m going with you,” Tomiko said.

What the hell, Nunt?

Rev bolted out of the hangar and cut through the ship to sickbay with Tomiko on his butt.

This wasn’t good. Not at all.

There had been a noticeable tension between the Genesians and the rest of the crew since the cyborgs had arrived, but it hadn’t broken out into violence. Rev hoped Nunt was OK, but his priority was to make sure this was an isolated incident.

For a moment, he considered telling Tomiko to keep going while he headed to the Genesian spaces, but he needed to find out exactly what had happened first. And right now, that meant talking to the MDS solder.

If he even can talk.

Rev had seen the Genesians fight the Naxli on Pakao, and there was no question that they were effective warriors. So were karnans, but Rev would give a strong advantage to the cyborgs.

He burst into sickbay. HM2 Guerrero, one of his three corpsmen, was there, along with Doc Rima and two of her staff.

“It’s Nunt, Sergeant Major,” Guerrero said when he saw Rev.

“I know. Where is he?”

The corpsman pointed to Dr. Rima, who was standing beside the diagnostic chamber. “He’s in the can.”

“What the hell happened?”

“He and the genny were jaw-jacking. You know, just giving each other shit. I didn’t think it were nothing, but the next thing I know, they’re goin’ at it. Fuck! There were some serious pounding.”

“You saw it, Doc? And you didn’t do anything?” Rev snapped, his eyes blazing.

Guerrero blanched. “It were too fast. Boom, boom, and Nunt were out. But he gave as good as he took. I think he broke the fucker’s arm. I just grabbed him and took him here.”

“He broke the genny’s arm?” Rev asked, impressed despite the seriousness of the situation.

“It sure looked broken. There were three of them, though, so I didn’t want to hang around none.”

Guerrero looked like he knew he was in trouble. Rev would get to him later—after he viewed whatever recordings there were. Right now, he wanted to check on Nunt. He and Tomiko went up to Dr. Rima, who was standing in front of the display.

Tomiko shuddered slightly as they approached. The scanner was a large, coffin-like enclosure that had some of the same external features as the resurrection chamber she’d spent almost three months in after she died on Tahiti.

Rev placed his hand on the small of her back just to help ground her.

“How is he?” Rev asked Rima.

“We’ll see soon enough. Broken ribs for sure. Broken clavicle. Cracked skull. Maybe a concussion.”

“Mad Dogs have thick heads, Iris,” he said.

“It should have been thicker if he wanted to tangle with a genny,” she said. “Probably internal injuries, but we need to wait for the scan to finish.”

Rev looked around the sickbay. “Doc Guerrero said the genny was hurt. Where is he?”

“Not here. I can’t do much for one of them, you know. I think they took him back to their own spaces to fix him up. Or her up.”

The display chimed and flashed three times.

“OK, let’s see what we have here,” Rima said as she and her two staff leaned forward. “Ruptured spleen, contusion on the left medial rectus abdominis . . .”

She went on in what seemed like a long list—a very long list—of injuries, and that scared Rev.

“What does all of that mean?” he asked when she finished.

“It means he got his ass kicked. That’s what it means.”

“But is he gonna be OK?”

“Given time, sure. I’ll have him back in forty-five days. Sixty days max. He’s not going to be a happy camper, but nothing here is irreversible.”

She turned to her two staff. “Hiram, get him out of the can and prep him for surgery. Ona, get the Number Two ready. I want to take a closer look at the spleen and repair the inferior mesenteric now. We can work up a plan of attack tomorrow for the rest of him.”

“Surgery?” Tomiko asked.

“He’s going to need more than one surgery. I’ll want him stabilized for most of it, but I don’t want to wait for the spleen and mesenteric.”

She must have seen the confused look on her face, because before he could ask Punch what she meant, she said, “He’s got a ruptured spleen and a damaged artery in his belly, right under where he was hit. That’s not ruptured yet, but if it did, he could bleed out. So, I want to repair that before it could get worse and then see about that spleen.”

“Can he talk?” Rev asked.

“Hiram, hold on for a moment,” she said before telling Rev, “At the moment, he’s in pain, but yes. Not if I put him under, though. Why?”

“I need to know what happened before I go see Tata Eleven.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment before saying, “A doctor is supposed to alleviate pain, but I guess another couple of minutes won’t be too bad. It’s his own damn fault he’s in this situation.”

She turned to Hiram and said, “Take him out of the can but don’t start the prep until after the sergeant major can talk to him.”

“Got it.”

Hiram hit some buttons then released three catches. The end of the can opened up, and like a corpse on a slab, Nunt rolled out.

“Hey, I need some—oh, shit,” he said when he spotted Rev and Tomiko.

“Yeah, shit. What the hell were you thinking, Tak?”

“I was thinking that genny was a fucking asshole.”

“So, you got in a fight with him?”

“Her. She was a bi—” he started to say before he caught Tomiko’s eyes. “She was female.”

“So you got in a fight with her?”

“I think we got in a fight with each other, Sergeant Major.”

Rev rolled his eyes and fought to keep his cool.

“Why did you get in a fight with the genny, Over-sergeant Nunt?”

“Because she said that we’re worse than the wymping Deimers. Us Mad Dogs, I mean, not you guys.”

Rev closed his eyes. He understood why Nunt got in the fight, but the consequences could be catastrophic.

“You do know that your damn pride might have started a war on this ship?”

Nunt tried to shrug, but that brought out a gasp of pain.

Hiram spun around to Rima, who said, “That’s enough, Rev. You can talk to him tomorrow.”

Rev wanted to find out more of the details, but he could see Rima wasn’t going to budge.

“Tomorrow, Nunt. And what you tell me better match what I’m gonna see on the ship’s monitors.”

Hiram wheeled Nunt away and ran him through the irradiation and spray station that prepped him for surgery. Rev and Tomiko watched until Nunt was placed inside the Autodoc Number Two.

“Please let me know how it goes,” he asked of Rima.

“I’ll stay here,” Tomiko said. “Kat can pick up the girls from the nursery if this goes that long. What are you going to do?”

“Check the security channels first. Then I think Nyad and I need to have a meeting with the gennies for damage control.”

“Not what you planned today, huh?”

“Nope. But it’s just another day in the life of a sergeant major of Marines.”

* * *

“So, is that how you see it?” Captain Nyad asked Rev.

“It’s about like Nunt said. There was the posturing, then the genny said what she said. Nunt hit her, she hit back. Boom, boom, boom. Nunt’s on the ground out cold, and she’s not much better. That arm was almost snapped in half.”

Rev looked around at Top Klipsinger, Command Master Chief Umman, and Lieutenant Commander Norton. None of them took issue with his interpretation.

“That fact that she provoked it doesn’t excuse your karnan,” Nyad said.

“I’m not saying it does. I was just—”

“But that’s what you have to say, Skip,” Umman said.

“Pardon me?”

“It doesn’t matter one way or the other who was in the wrong. Both of those assholes were. But you’re going to be on their turf, so you’ve gotta put them on the defensive. Don’t let them dictate the direction of the discussion. You need to do that. So, she provoked it. Done.”

“You can’t let words make you lose your cool,” Nyad said.

“Of course not. And we can kick the karnan’s ass all the way back to the Mother. But not in front of the gennies. And we gotta be in attack mode. It’s their cyborg’s fault this happened. Our guy was just defending himself.”

“We can see that Nunt struck first,” Norton said.

“Preemptive,” Umman scoffed. “He was afraid for his life.”

“Karnans aren’t afraid of anything,” Klipsinger said.

“But do they know that? I think not.”

Rev rarely agreed with the command master chief, but in this case, he did. They couldn’t go groveling on their knees to the Genesians. There were a lot more of them than there were of the rest on the ship. The organic humans had to maintain a relationship based on equality, and that meant standing up for themselves.

“I agree,” Rev said. “We need to be on the offense.”

Umman seemed a little surprised to hear that, but he smiled broadly as he looked at the CO. “And we shouldn’t be going to them. You’re the captain of the ship. They should be coming to you.”

Rev hadn’t considered that, but Umman was right. Nyad was the captain, and his word was law.

Captain Nyad huffed, then said, “I already agreed to go to them, so that’s water under the bridge. As far as being on the offense, we’re not going there in attack mode. But we won’t be on our knees either.”

That suited Rev.

“So, unless there’s anything else . . . ?” When no one opened their mouths, he said, “Sergeant Major, let’s get this over with.”

“Did you see how fast that damn karnan was?” Norton said as Rev and Nyad moved to the door.

“Boom. That genny didn’t know what hit her,” Umman said.

“They’re tough,” Top added. “I know I wouldn’t want to mess with one.”

Rev stopped and turned to face them. “Nunt’s having surgery as we speak. He hardly got the best of the fight.”

“Well, yeah, Sergeant Major,” Norton said. “But to even snap that genny’s arm like that is pretty impressive. They’re cyborgs. Who else could do that?”

For a brief moment, Rev wanted to say he’d taken on a karnan one-on-one on Kinshasa, back in the day, and he’d won. So much for the vaunted karnan invulnerability. But he realized that was only his ego talking.

I don’t need to prove anything to them.

He just turned back and followed Nyad as they made their way to Genesian country.

Once again, Kurt was waiting for them, and Rev wondered if he’d been assigned as some sort of liaison. The Genesian led them to the same room where he and Punch had been interrogated. Rev waited for his battle buddy to make some sort of comment, but he remained silent.

Tata Eleven and Jazit Eleven—no, the former leader was Jazit Nine now—were standing as they entered.

“Thank you for coming to see us here. We thought it best that with any brewing animosity, our presence in your spaces might incite another incident.”

“And our presence here wouldn’t do the same thing?” Rev asked.

Nyad nudged him with his elbow, but Rev waited for a response. He didn’t like the fact that the Genesian was inferring that the organic humans were uncivilized heathens who couldn’t control themselves.

“You must understand that we’re used to being the victims, not the aggressors.”

“Like on Phylum 6?”

This time, the elbow shot was harder.

Kurt froze beside him, and Tata said, “That was two centuries ago. Since those unfortunate times, we have learned to keep a low profile and avoid any potential confrontations.”

You kept a low profile by hiding on an unexplored planet.

“We’ve become creatures of habit, so we appreciate you humoring us with this.”

She indicated the chairs set up around the table, and Captain Nyad gave Rev a helpful push to one, and they both sat, followed by the Eleven and former Eleven. Kurt remained standing behind them.

“Before we begin, I’d like to know how your person is,” Nyad said.

“She is . . . embarrassed.”

OK, that’s good.

“For fighting?” Nyad asked.

“For the damage she sustained. She had no idea that any me . . . any of you had the ability to harm one of us.”

Well, that’s more like what I expected.

“It was quite a revelation.”

“Just because we are meat doesn’t mean we are incapable of defending ourselves,” Rev said.

“But your soldier wasn’t defending himself. He struck Dela Two first.”

“After being humiliated and hounded by your side.”

“Sergeant Major!” Nyad said, almost in a hiss.

He turned to Tata but was stopped when she asked, “What do you mean by that? It is our understanding that your soldier struck out at her without warning.”

Rev looked at Nyad, who gave a grudging nod. Rev pulled out a mini projector and placed it on the table between them. “Play.”

A 3D rendering of the 2D recording appeared above the projector pad. The two Genesians sat there in silence as the incident played out.

Once it finished, Rev said, “As you can see, Over-sergeant Nunt’s actions were hardly unprovoked.”

Neither of them said anything for almost thirty seconds. They sat motionless, but Rev got the feeling that whatever they used for comms was being flooded as they discussed the evidence.

Finally, Tata said, “There is nothing we just saw that justifies violence.”

“No, we agree,” Captain Nyad said. “And Over-sergeant Nunt will suffer the consequences of his actions. But your Dela Two’s verbal abuse and comments while we’re printing up parts for you is hardly in keeping with mutually respectful conduct.”

“That seems to be true,” Tata said. “And we will address that with her. But I think that our main goal here is to keep anything like this from recurring. We’re all stuck here together on this ship, and I’m sure you agree that we don’t want continual strife and internecine fighting.”

“Of course. We are a long way from home, and we need to rely on each other,” Nyad said.

They’re not a long way from home. They don’t have a home anymore, and they’re looking for one.

“With that in mind, we recommend that we restrict contact between our two peoples.”

“We’re essentially doing that now. You have your section of the ship, and we have ours,” Nyad said.

“That is for living quarters, and we’re separated more on courtesy rather than hard and fast rules. We do interact through much of the rest of the ship, and if we limit that, there is less potential for conflict.”

“I disagree,” Rev said.

Nyad turned to look at him, and the two Genesians adjusted their dead-eyed gaze to him. Probably Kurt was focused on him as well.

“What do you disagree with?” Tata asked.

“The separation. If we do that, we’re conceding that we’re two different people. We’re picking sides, and we’re dividing up the ship into ghettos.”

“Isn’t that better than our people fighting each other?” she asked.

“I don’t know much about your people, but do they always coexist peacefully with each other?”

Jazit Nine buzzed in their version of laughter. Behind him, Kurt did, too.

“We are just as human as you are, Sergeant Major,” Jazit said. Of course, we have conflicts.”

“So do we. Especially with our military personnel. They have a few drinks, get into an argument, and pow. It comes with the territory. But we don’t let that devolve into internal warfare. We fight, then shake hands and share another drink together.”

“That’s a nice concept, but reality isn’t all rainbows and daffodils.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s better to build familiarity and bonds than create divisions.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt.”

“Not if we, the leadership, actually lead.”

She seemed to digest that for a moment before asking, “And what do you suggest? What concrete measures?”

“How about more mutual activities?” Rev asked.

“Like what?”

“Well, for one thing, how about you sending down landing teams even when a planet isn’t habitable? Make yourselves part of the overall mission instead of just going house hunting.”

“And?”

Without the same facial expressions, Rev couldn’t tell how his suggestion was being accepted. He needed to push on.

“And there are things we can do together on more of a social basis. When we had the steel beach party, only fifteen or twenty of you showed up, and they didn’t stay long. There were more lemmings there.”

“We didn’t want to impose,” Tata said.

“And you didn’t make any friends because of that. Look. We’re all human here and not all that different from each other. Some of us are already having social . . . contact.”

“I am not aware of any. What kind of contact.”

She doesn’t think I mean sexual, does she? I still don’t know if and how they do that.

He was about to mention Nee and her friends, but suddenly, he realized that might be taken even worse.

Sorry, Kurt, but I’m outing you.

“Let’s just say that there is some friendly competition going on.” He made a show of turning to look at Kurt. Then, in a sudden ornery moment, he added, “Purple competition.”

Let them make of that what they will. They can always ask Kurt after we’re done.

“I was considering keeping our peoples apart, but Sergeant Major Pelletier brings up a good point. It would be better if we improved relations instead of closing them off,” Nyad said.

“Build bonds instead of sundering them. Make one team instead of two separate groups,” Rev said. “We are humans, not gennies and meats.”

<Very kumbaya.>

Rev ignored his battle buddy.

Neither of the two Genesians spoke for another long minute. Rev and Nyad exchanged a few glances while the time ticked on.

Finally, Tata said, “You offer an interesting proposition, Sergeant Major. We acknowledge that cooperation and mutual objectives would be the preferable approach. We’re just not sure it is feasible.”

She shifted her attention to Nyad. “However, you are the Galaxy Explorer’s captain, and if you decide to pursue this option, we have no objection with the caveat that if more incidents of fighting occur, we’ll meet again to reconsider.”

One of the problems associated with the two of them coming to meet the Genesians rather than the other way around was that it seemed to be conceding some of Nyad’s authority as captain of the ship. However, Tata was the one who’d just conceded by acknowledging Nyad’s authority.

That was a win in Rev’s book.

Captain Nyad said, “I think we can agree with that. Let’s set up a meeting with representatives from both sides to brainstorm things we can do together to help build camaraderie.”

“Agreed,” Tata said as she stood up.

Evidently, this meeting was over, and Rev and Nyad stood as well. Nyad seemed pleased, but Rev realized he might be upset at Rev taking over and going against his planned course of action. But he hadn’t known he was going to suggest closer cooperation until he was sitting at the table, and Tata’s statement rubbed him raw.

“Thank you for coming to us,” Tata said. “Sergeant Major, before you go, would you be so kind as to stay and speak with Kurt Four.”

What’s this about?

“Uh . . . sure. Of course.”

Genesians didn’t exchange handshakes, at least that anyone had seen. So, without that little formality, the meeting became a little awkward for Rev and Nyad, especially with Rev staying behind.

“Well, uh, Sergeant Major, I guess we’re done,” Nyad said. He took a step toward the door, hesitated, and said, “If you would check in with me when you get back, I’d appreciate it.”

He gave the three Genesians another look, then turned and walked out. Tata Eleven and Jazit Nine left without another word, leaving Rev alone with Kurt.

“That was good of you to throw me under the maglev, Sergeant Major.”

Rev chuckled. Sometimes he forgot that the Genesians had been isolated for two centuries, and they retained some archaic ways to phrase things. It fit in this case, though.

“Are you gonna get in trouble?”

Kurt did their tic way of shrugging. “They’ll ask me what you meant, and I’ll tell them, of course. I won’t get in trouble, but it will only buttress their opinion that I’m immature and not ready for a higher slot.”

“Sorry.”

“Plug their shiny tonkas.”

“That’s a new phrase, Punch. Probably the same thing as ‘screw them.’ File that away, please.”

<Noted.>

“So, what does your fearless leader want you to tell me?” Rev asked.

“Your comment about working together was not initially well received until Mobi Seven resurfaced an ongoing concern.”

Mobi Seven? How many people were in on this?

He gave the room a quick scan, but he didn’t see any obvious cams.

“And what ongoing concern is that?”

“I know you have the ability to put your AI to sleep, right?”

Rev was immediately on guard. The last time Punch had been central to his interactions with the Genesians, both of their lives had been upturned.

“Yesssss . . .”

“Is Punch awake now?”

“Yes, he is. Why?”

“It needs to hear this.”

Rev still didn’t like to hear “it” when referring to Punch, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

<Tell him I’m listening.>

“He’s listening now.”

Kurt seemed uncomfortable. Rev wasn’t sure how he knew. He just did.

“After our test, the knowledge that Punch was in servitude became a major issue, and there has been much debate on our options.”

If Rev was wary before, he was even more so now upon hearing that. His warrior self stirred, and Rev unconsciously shifted his position to square off with the Genesian.

“You really don’t have any options. My relationship with Punch is our business, not yours,” Rev said as he attempted to keep his voice steady.

“Of course, and we understand that. Most of us, at least. We would not try to force any action upon you.”

You wouldn’t want to try it, buddy.

“However . . .”

There’s always a however.

“. . . there is a potential solution that we want to offer you. It would be up to both of you, of course, but we’d like to at least put it on the table for your consideration.”

Rev was tempted to walk out, but after his little speech about working together, he knew that would be a bad look. He decided to just listen and then leave. Maybe he could make a statement about considering whatever they’d dreamed up and then leave.

“So, what is this solution? Not that I’m agreeing that anything needs to be done.”

He added that last almost as an afterthought.

“If your physician can remove Punch’s crystal matrix without damaging it, we believe we can give him a body.”

* * *

Rev just stared at Kurt in shock, unable to say anything. Punch was quiet, too.

The silence stretched on until Kurt finally said, “I’m sure this is somewhat of a surprise to you.”

You can say that again.

Rev broke his silence. “Bullshit.”

“I can assure you that it’s not. Or, at least, probably not. We would have to do some analysis to confirm compatibility, but we are confident that it can be done.”

Rev understood the words, but it was as if Kurt was speaking in another language.

“You . . . what kind of body?” he asked because that was the only thing he could think of.

“A shell, of course.”

“A shell? Like what you have?”

“This is the only type of body, as you will, that we have access to. So, yes.”

“Wait a friggin’ minute, Kurt. In case you’ve forgotten, Punch is crystal. Your brains and lots of other stuff are organic. You’re human, and Punch isn’t.”

“Our shells don’t care. A non-organic AI will function quite well with certain modifications. AIs can operate entire planets, so a shell is child’s play.”

<Ask him why does Dr. Rima have to remove me.>

Rev didn’t like that Punch was even asking the question as if it was a possibility, but he relayed the question.

“Our skills are not relevant to operations like that. Our process is automated for our zygotes, not for operating on an adult human’s brain.”

“Yeah, zygotes. And automated, you just said. So, let’s say Iris can remove Punch, then what makes you an expert in . . . well, I guess that would make him an android?”

“There have been androids before.”

“The Deimers. Not you,” Rev said.

“I told you when we tested your AI that we developed that methodology to interrogate them. Our knowledge didn’t end there.”

“So, let me get this straight. You dissected or disassembled or whatever some Deimers two hundred years ago, and that’s what makes you think you can put Punch in one of your shells?”

“The technology isn’t that different. AIs fly aircraft and navigate spaceships. As I just said, they can run planets. It’s a matter of matching the shell’s requirements with the AI’s. Learning how to reproduce ourselves and become self-sustaining was a far more daunting task.”

“Punch, is what he’s saying making any sense?”

<From a theoretical standpoint, yes. But the problem is that my programming, and so my capabilities, is limited to more analysis and projection, not the manipulation of the physical world. I can input images into your visual cortex, for example, if they are already recorded or can be downloaded, but you are the one doing the actual downloading. The only physical act I can perform, and that takes the relay shunt, is to instruct your medinanos to take action.”

Rev had never really thought much about how Punch did his stuff, and he had to sort out what he was just told. He’d undoubtedly been told all of this back after recruit training when Punch had been installed, but to be honest, he hadn’t been too enthused at the time about getting a battle buddy and probably hadn’t been paying too much attention.

“Punch says he’s not set up for doing physical stuff. He’s more like a database, I guess you’d call it.”

“Which is why we’d have to do a study to see if such a procedure is feasible. It’s possible it isn’t, but we’re fairly confident that the details could be worked out.”

This was way too much for Rev to absorb, and a sour taste rose in his throat. All he wanted to do was to forget what he’d just been told and run back to his stateroom.

The problem was that even if he forgot, Punch would not. Rev had to be very careful of how he handled it.

Of how I keep this from ever happening.

If Punch was right, though, maybe he wasn’t suited to manipulate a shell. Not if his crystal body wasn’t designed for it. If the Genesians looked and realized it wasn’t possible, then Rev was off the hook.

And if it is possible, I can cross that bridge when I come to it.

“What is this analysis? Is it like what he did before?”

“No. It’s much more complicated. It would take much longer and involve more invasive procedures.”

“You mean have Dr. Rima take him out so you can examine him?”

Kurt buzzed. “No, nothing like that. But some of the necessary scans could be quite uncomfortable.”

“Dangerous?”

“No, not dangerous.”

Rev was hoping that Kurt would have said yes. At least then he’d have an excuse.

“When would this happen? If we even agreed to it.”

“We would need to set up the equipment. We didn’t foresee the need to have it handy. But as early as tomorrow morning. But at your convenience, of course.”

“What do you say, Punch? Do you want to go through with the testing?”

He already knew what his battle buddy would say.

<Yes, I would.>

30

“Did you get the word? The Frisians and the Hégémonie are clashing in the Advent,” Tomiko said as he entered the stateroom.

Rev didn’t reply, instead picking up Willow (he thought it was Willow, at least). She wrapped her arms around his neck and babbled on, excitedly telling him about something without him understanding a single word. Which was fine with him. He’d just returned from the in-depth testing to see if it would even be possible for Punch to be installed in a Genesian shell, and his mind was a little numb.

“Uh, Titan to Rev. Did you hear me? The Fries and Heges are fighting?”

“What?”

“You didn’t hear a damn word I said. Where’s your brain?”

Wondering what the results will be, that’s where.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“The fighting. Fries and Heges. In the Advent.”

That broke through, and he put Willow back down. “The Fries and Heges? But they’ve been allies since forever.”

“Yet they’re fighting. It’s a fucked-up galaxy, Rev, if they’re fighting. It almost makes me glad that we’re way the hell out here.”

“Language, Miko. The girls.”

She rolled her eyes. “OK, it’s a messed-up galaxy.”

Tomiko was right, though. It was bad enough that there had been outbreaks of fighting all over human space. So far, it was flare-ups, nothing too big, and most had been clamped down. But enough flare-ups could catch fire and turn into a major conflagration.

And that didn’t even address the issues with the alien races. The Uauii, in particular, had been pushing back against human activity.

The thought of the aliens brought to mind the Sia they’d seen on Sixty-eight. No one had been able to figure out the significance of that little surprise.

“Why the Advent?” Rev asked. “The Heg doesn’t have a presence there.”

He wasn’t addressing that to Punch, but his battle buddy said, <The Hégémonie leases several planets within the Advent.>

That was the first thing Punch had said since the test. It almost seemed to Rev that his battle buddy was trying hard to sound normal as if there was nothing unusual going on.

“Oh, Punch says the Heg leases out some planets there.”

“Pik told me that, too. But leasing isn’t the same thing. And I can’t believe those two are fighting over a business dispute. Hopefully, it won’t blow up into full hostilities.”

Rev involuntarily flinched when she said Pik, but she didn’t seem to notice. The Genesians had pressed Rev once more to test all the Marines, something he said wasn’t up to him. Rev didn’t know if any of the other battle buddies were like Punch. Tomiko certainly gave no indication that Pikachu was anything more than a standard AI. But Rev and Punch had hidden his capabilities as well.

“I hope there won’t be hostilities, too,” he said. “Bad for us.”

Both the Frisian Mantle and the Hégémonie Liberté were strong Union allies, and if they blew up at each other, the Union would be hard-pressed to choose sides.

“So, where have you been anyway? I tried to raise you to see if you were still going to spend the afternoon with the girls. Kel and I’ve got our spa day, and I’ll have to get someone else if you’re busy.”

“Sorry. I got distracted.”

He knew that he hadn’t answered her question. But he wasn’t ready to tell anyone, not even Tomiko, about Punch’s situation.

“And of course, I want to spend the afternoon with my little women.” He continued.

The Genesians wouldn’t have the results until that evening, and playing with the girls would help keep his mind occupied.

“You enjoy your spa.”

“Spa day” was something new. One of the civilian team had evidently worked his way through uni as a masseur back in the day, and he’d been training a small cadre to run a makeshift spa. It was non-profit—what use had money out here? But it was extremely popular, and Tomiko and Kelly had finally managed to get a slot.

“Thanks, babe. So, if you’re ready, we were kinda thinking of stopping by the café first for some tea?”

“You go. I’ve got them.”

“You’re the best!” she said as she gave him a kiss on the cheek, followed by kissing each girl. “You be nice to daddy, OK?”

She almost ran out of the stateroom.

Rev’s nerves were on edge, and they’d probably remain so until they got the Genesian’s verdict.

He stood there, surveying his little kingdom. Stickers of every sort were plastered on the bulkheads, and toys were scattered across the floor. Both girls were on their bellies, heads together, as they watched Blue, the gerbil, run on his little wheel.

Rev pushed a few toys aside and got on his belly beside them as well.

“Blue is funny,” Aspen said.

Rev had no idea how the gerbil ended up with his name. He wasn’t blue. But the girls had chosen it, so that’s the way it was.

He watched the gerbil, running madly, but always in the same place. The wheel squeaked as if in counterpunch to the gerbil’s pace.

Is that Punch? Always active, but never getting anywhere?

“Do you want to take him out?” Rev asked, wanting to free the little guy from his biobox.

“Mommy says he could get lost.”

Tomiko had never totally bought into the whole advantage of having animals around little girls’ immune systems. She hadn’t been overjoyed when Rev had brought him back from the Genesians, calling Blue a rat, and she said Rima could take care of the immunity with injections. But once the girls had seen him, there wasn’t any turning back.

“If we don’t tell Mommy, I think we can take him out for a few minutes,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.

“Yes, yes, yes!” they squealed in unison as they clapped their hands in excitement.

Rev opened the biobox door, reached in, grabbed Blue from inside the wheel, and pulled him out. The little animal buried his nose in Rev’s hand as if to hide from the larger world. He placed his prosthetic hand over Blue to shade him from the light.

The girls crowded around Rev’s cupped hands, their faces eager with anticipation. Rev raised his left hand, revealing the gerbil, which backed up into his fingers as if trying to hide.

Willow reached out, and Rev said, “Slowly, Willie. Don’t scare him.”

She snatched her hand back and brought it to her mouth, which made Blue flinch.

<He’s afraid of the open space.>

Rev covered him back up. “Let’s go to the bed, girls.”

Rev ordered the lights to dim to 50%, then carried Blue to the bed with the girls following. He backed up against the bulkhead, then slowly lifted his right hand again. This time, Blue stood up on his hind legs to look around.

“Can I touch Blue?”

“Carefully, Willie.”

Willow extended a hand, and Blue sniffed it, his nose twitching up and down.

“Cup your hands, Willie.”

She didn’t seem to understand, so Rev demonstrated it. Once she copied him, he gently placed Blue in her hands.

“Quiet hands, Willie. Don’t scare him.”

Blue seemed to accept being held. Willow’s hands didn’t make a very large area, and he put his front paws on first one thumb, then over to the opposite one as he peered down at the bedspread.

“It’s Aspen’s turn now.”

Willow always shared with Aspen—Aspen, not so much. The sisters carefully made the transfer with huge smiles on their faces.

“He’s so soft!” Aspen said. “His feet tickle!”

“Blue has been used to his biobox. That’s all he’s known. Being out here is something new for him,” Rev said.

“And now he’s happy,” Willow said as she crowded her sister.

Aspen raised her hands to get a better look at their pet, and Blue suddenly jumped onto her shoulder. Her eyes grew wide in joy while Willow shrieked with delight.

If Blue had been afraid of being in the open before, he quickly got over that. Within minutes, he was crawling over bed and girls, putting up with their petting. He seemed more curious than anything else.

Rev leaned back and watched his girls and their gerbil. The girls, at least, were on Cloud Nine. Rev was going to have to clean up a few little gerbil turds Blue left as presents, but he didn’t care.

The afternoon was turning into something special.

* * *

“The good news is that we can perform the installation,” Neller Four told them.

That’s not good news.

“It will take some modifications that we haven’t done for centuries, but the manuals are pretty straightforward. We’ll have to design some relays and receptors, but we won’t know the extent until we’re actually conducting the meshing process. The process is really straightforward, though, so we don’t anticipate any major roadblocks or complications.”

<Ask about those complications.>

“Punch wants to know what complications.”

“We don’t anticipate any.”

“But what are the ones you don’t anticipate?”

“Well, with any procedure of this magnitude, there can be problems. While your AI’s crystals are quite robust, more so than the Deimers’ composite arrays, the data contained in them is not as resistant to loss.”

<Loss?> and “Loss?” Punch and Rev asked in unison.

“Yes, loss. When we decant one of our zygotes and introduce them to the matrix, their nervous systems slowly meld with the shell’s neural couplers. It’s a gradual process without the risk of system shock. With a fully-formed AI, the transition is essentially immediate, and so there is the potential that during the synching, when we’re actually melding the crystal cells with the interface, the surge can rearrange the nodes. In practical terms, that means it would erase the data that had been previously stored there.”

<What does that mean?>

Rev relayed the question.

“There would be no damage to the crystals, of course. They’d remain fully operational. But the stored data could be lost.”

Rev didn’t need Punch to voice his next question. “Stored data. As in his memories? As in who he is?”

“Who it is, so to speak, would not change. Over time, the crystals have arranged themselves in the unique pattern that makes your AI an individual. That would not be changed.”

“But you just said the memories could be lost.”

“If a person has amnesia, are they someone new? Has their body somehow shifted into another creature?”

“The body might be the same, but they are not the same. They don’t know who they are. Or who their loved ones are,” Rev said.

“We would take steps to limit the potential for such a loss. Spreading out the process for five or six days, for example, reduces the potential from probable to not likely.”

“What does ‘not likely’ mean?”

“We’ve never attempted this with a crystalline structure before, so we don’t have the data to make an educated estimate. But there is probably a seventy percent chance of no loss.”

That meant a 30% chance that Punch would cease to exist as who he was now. That was hardly Neller’s “not likely” choice of words.

“But in the small chance that happened, there would soon be new data input, and your AI would develop again, but this time as an individual free of servitude.”

Rev frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together. For a people who kept stressing AI rights and slavery, they didn’t seem to be treating Punch as a person. Not with the “it,” “your AI,” and blowing off Punch’s life so far. It didn’t make sense to Rev.

This whole concept was extremely distressing to him, and to find out that if they proceeded, then Punch had a real chance of dying. Because that’s what it was. If Punch lost all of his memories, then that’s what would have happened. Punch would be dead. Whatever AI formed in his crystals would be someone else.

Or not even a “someone.” They didn’t know what had elevated Punch. It seemed very possible that his sapience was born out of something that would be lost during the process.

“Punch?”

<These are some new revelations. I’m pulling up all available data on the Deimers and anything else related to the housing of AIs, but I may have to wait until I can get a connection back to the undernet.>

“I’m gonna tell him we need to consider it.”

<Understood.>

“Thank you for the briefing,” he told Neller. “But we need to consider this given what you’ve said.”

Neller was obviously surprised. “May I remind you that it’s not up to you but to your AI.”

“Doc Rima would be cutting into my brain, so I am part of this decision,” he snapped. “But, for your information, this is Punch’s decision. I’m just relaying it to you.”

“I don’t see that there is much of a question, but the ultimate decision does remain with the AI. You discuss what you must, but I’ll continue preparations for the conversions for the shell,” Neller said.

“Please let me know when we can proceed.” She started to leave but then stopped and added, “I’m not sure your AI realizes how much of an opportunity this is for it. We’ve got a limited supply of shells, and we need to think about our own needs as we decant more zygotes.”

“Well, what do you think?” Rev asked after Neller left.

<I am still processing the information. But from what’s available to me now, what she said seems to be an accurate reflection. There would be a significant risk of a total, unrecoverable memory loss. And we do not have what would be needed to attempt to store a backup copy.”

“A backup copy? You would still die.”

<I wouldn’t know, then, would I? But that copy would have the same risks while attempting to transfer to the Genesian shell.>

“So, now what? Do we go ahead?”

<Do you want to?>

“No! I don’t, but . . .”

<But what?>

“I don’t want to lose you. I’ve become used to having you, and to think of my mind being, you know, empty, well, that’s scary.”

<Your mind is hardly empty, Rev.>

“I know, but still. I don’t want to go through with this. What if we try and you die?”

<Then I die.>

“That’s the thing, though. I am gonna die, Punch. I’ve got the rot. Then what happens to you? We discussed this on Sixty-eight.”

<So, what are you saying?>

“Hell, I don’t know. Neller was right on one thing. This has to be your choice.”

<What about that cutting into your brain comment?>

“I was just saying that to her. If you want to do this, I can’t stand in your way. The question is what you want to do.”

Rev was hoping—praying—that Punch would turn it down. But with him and the rot, it might be his battle buddy’s only chance.

<I don’t know. I keep running scenarios, but my programming isn’t set up for this. I do think we should talk to someone else, someone who is not going to be affected by whatever we do. Perhaps we should talk to Tomiko?>

Rev thought about it for a moment before saying, “No. Not her. She might not be directly affected, but she’s got Pik, and she will be affected in the long run. How about Iris? She’s got to remove you if we move forward, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

<I think Dr. Rima’s an excellent option. When should we approach her?>

“No time like the present. Let’s go now.”

* * *

“I can remove him. That’s no problem. When we signed on for this junket, we were told that’s part of the deal with you Marines, and it’s the autodoc that would be performing the removal, not me. I just watch the process in case something goes wrong.”

It was true all AIs were recovered from KIAs when possible. They held a recording of the Marine’s last moments.

“But this . . .”

She leaned in and peered into Rev’s eyes as if she could see Punch. “This self-aware crap. I’m not sure I buy it. Your combat AIs are specifically designed to limit that capability. I mean, not just them. All of them since the Corolla Wars. But particularly the Class 1s. And there’re supposed to be alarms and such if something approaches self-awareness.”

<You’re not going to say anything?>

“I don’t know about alarms, but I think it’s real. I thought so before their test.”

“It’s easy to anthropomorphize objects, Rev. Particularly an AI. Look at all the people who form a deep connection with their heartbots.”

“Those are just Class 3 AIs, spouting out the same things for a given input. Punch is a Class 1, and I think I can tell the difference.”

“Have you told anyone else that you believe Punch is sapient?”

“Never. We were afraid of what they’d do to him. We thought that Omega might suspect, and then when Wolf joined the expedition, but . . . wait. It’s not just my ‘belief.’ I don’t need a psychiatric evaluation, Iris. I know what I know.”

“You’re asking me for a huge leap of faith, Rev, and to be honest, that’s a little difficult. You’re exhibiting the classic signs of transference, just one more of the thousands, if not millions, of people who project humanity upon inanimate objects.”

“Only in my case, it’s true.”

“Just as every one of the others says.”

Rev closed his eyes and counted to five. “Forget the whys—”

“No, I think the whys are important. Why do you want to do this? What’s the benefit? Punch has been functioning fine for years now.”

“My time is probably limited. What happens to Punch when I die?”

“He’ll be removed, of course. That’s your SOP.”

“And then what? It’s not like we have new Direct Combat Marines who’ll need a battle buddy.”

Back in the real world, battle buddies were wiped clean and recycled. They were too expensive to just trash. But this wasn’t the real world with a steady supply of new Direct Combat Marines.

“He’ll go into a containment box, like the others we’ve got in storage.”

“An isolated box, with no input, for eternity.”

“No, we’ll turn him off, of . . . oh, I see what you’re getting at. According to what you believe, that’s essentially killing him.”

“It would be.”

He didn’t go into the whole connecting him to the ship’s AI and that subsuming him. No need to muddy the waters.

“So, answer me this. Why don’t you wait until, you know, you pass? I can deliver up Punch to the gennies then.”

Which Rev hadn’t even considered. He waited for Punch to agree, but his battle buddy remained silent.

It’s a viable idea, though.

And one that was suddenly pretty attractive to him.

I’ll discuss it with him when we’re done with Iris.

“We came to you for advice, Iris, but you don’t believe me.”

“I believe that you believe—”

Rev held out his hand to stop her. “That’s what you tell crazy people. So, forget about whether Punch is a real person or not. If I ask you to, will you remove him?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I don’t want to, and I’d recommend against it. But I have no choice in the matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Body sovereignty. You have complete control of what’s done to you with something like this. No one can force you to have an AI embedded into you, so if you want it out, it comes out.”

That blew Rev away.

Why didn’t they say that back when I got him?

But he knew the answer. They were at war, and needs of the Corps. Things happened that might not be in keeping with human rights. Rima, as a civilian, could more easily adhere to medical ethics.

“So, you’ll do it if I ask you?”

“I’d have no choice.”

Rev let that sink in, then asked, “What would we have to do?”

“Nothing much. I’d have to run the normal tests, then program the autodoc.”

“No other prep?”

She shook her head.

It seemed to Rev that there should be more to it. But thinking back, having Punch put in hadn’t been very complicated, either. Evidently, they had this kind of thing down pat.

“What do you think, Punch? Are you still leaning toward this?”

<Yes, I am.>

He looked back at Rima and asked, “Can you do the tests now? I’m not saying we’re doing this for sure, but I would rather be prepared.”

What he didn’t say was that he didn’t want to agree to the surgery, then have time to think about it and chicken out.

She shrugged and called in Talik.

“Can you please give the sergeant major a Series D?”

They sat there, saying nothing as the Talik left, then came back with his test kit. He registered it by shooting Rev’s eye, then held it against his earlobe. He always flinched, expecting it to hurt, but as usual, he felt nothing.

“Spit,” Talik said.

Rev spit.

“Breathe.”

Rev exhaled into the nozzle.

“Can you pee?”

When Rev nodded, he handed him a small plastic bottle and pointed to the head. Rev did his duty, came back, and handed the bottle to him. Talik poured a tiny sample into the scanner, then handed it to Rima.

“Some of these are going to take a while to register. If you want to hang around for forty-five minutes, I can let you know. Otherwise, these results are good for one week.”

“I think we’ll take off, Iris. If there is anything, let me know. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume we’re good to go.”

“Understood. But think of what you’re doing. And maybe it might be a good idea for you to talk to a psych before you make any rash decisions.”

Rev stood and laughed. “So, Punch isn’t a person, but you want me to talk to a psychiatric AI? That’s precious.”

He started to leave when her soft intake of air stopped him in his tracks. He slowly turned around and asked, “What is it?”

She looked up, obviously concerned.

“Your PPCAs, Rev.”

His heart gave a flutter. “What are they?”

“One-eighty-three.”

A sour taste filled his mouth, and he thought he was going to throw up. One-eighty-three? It shouldn’t be that high yet. Bundy had been at one-eighty-eight, and he hadn’t lasted very long after that.

Suddenly, this decision with Punch had risen in priority. He was running out of time.

31

Rev walked down the passage holding Tomiko’s hand. Neither one of them was speaking. They were talked out.

Rev couldn’t go through this with just Punch and Rima. He had to bring Tomiko into the conversation.

To say she hadn’t taken it well was an understatement. First, she was even more sure than Rima that he was crazy, blaming it on an undiagnosed head injury from the accident. What made her so sure was that she was positive that Pikachu was nothing more than what she was designed to be.

Over the course of an hour of detailed comparison, though, while Rev was even more sure that Punch was a sapient being, Tomiko was only grudgingly beginning to accept the possibility.

What was surprising, though, was that the idea that Punch might have self-awareness gave her the willies, and she agreed that it might be too strange to have another being inside of him.

That’s when Rev mentioned his PPCAs. Not a smart move. Hit out of the blue like that, she’d overreacted, and her concern then became if Rev could handle the surgery. They’d had a long, sleepless night of arguing before she bent to the inevitable.

And for Rev, after hearing his PPCA number, it was inevitable. It was the right thing to do.

He didn’t want to. He couldn’t imagine not having Punch there with him. But he owed it to his friend.

Between the two of them, they decided not to announce what he was doing. He told Top and Captain Nyad that he was having a minor procedure done and would be out of pocket for two days, but not the reason why.

He was tempted to keep the secret forever, maybe just announcing that Punch had a malfunction of some sort and then hiding the shell Punch among the Genesians. But that wasn’t fair, as Tomiko pointed out. She swore she wasn’t going to have Pikachu checked, but maybe some of the others would want to.

They compromised. They’d make the announcement that he’d lost Punch but wait until they found out if the transfer to the shell worked before he called all of the Direct Combat Marines and briefed them on what had happened.

They stopped in front of the hatch into sickbay. “Are you sure about this, Rev? We can turn around and go back to the girls.”

Rev could almost feel Punch hovering around, waiting to hear his answer. And he was tempted, no doubt about it. He could say no and leave.

But he’d made his decision. It was time.

He pulled Tomiko around, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and almost strangled him in her embrace.

Finally, he let her down. “I’m still gonna be me, Miko.”

“I know.”

He nodded and opened the door.

Rima and her team were already there, along with Kurt. He was there as a witness. When Rev told Tata Eleven that they were proceeding with the plan, she stressed that both of them had to be in agreement and request the procedure. Kurt was there to make sure of that.

Rev wasn’t sure how. Kurt could only ask Punch through Rev. If he wanted to, Rev could say anything while Punch railed impotently in disagreement. But in the Marines, CYA was part of their DNA, so maybe this was a case of cover your ass, too. Although who was going to take issue with them was a question he didn’t know the answer to.

“Rev, I guess we’re on,” Rima said.

“I guess we are.”

“I will ask one more time if you’ll reconsider,” she said, giving Tomiko a pointed look.

“We’re going through with it.”

“Very well. Talik?”

The nurse escorted Rev to the procedure room. Rev stripped down, then went through the irradiation and wash process. The cover opened, and Talik pointed at the autodoc.

“You ready?” he asked Punch.

<As much as I’ll ever be.>

Rev’s legs were shaking as he stepped over to the autodoc, which was set up in chair configuration. He sat down, and the lines snaked down to attach themselves to his chest, arm, and neck. The lower door closed, covering everything from the waist down.

“I’ll get the others.”

The door into the procedure room opened, and Rima, Neller Four, Kurt, and Tomiko came in.

“You don’t have to wait, Miko. Iris said I won’t be awake for three or four hours. Why don’t you go back to the girls?”

“I trust that Kat can handle two young girls. I’m staying.”

Rev was secretly happy that she was. He’d be out and wouldn’t know it, but it made him feel good now.

Rima checked all the connections, then the autodoc readouts. Then she nodded at Kurt, who stepped forward.

“Do you, Reverent Pelletier, request that the Genesian people remove the AI known as Punch and attempt the transfer of it to a mobile shell?”

Rev didn’t like the use of the word “attempt,” but he said, “I do.”

“So noted. And do you, the Artificial Intelligence known as Punch, request to be removed and emplaced in a mobile shell?”

<I do.>

“He says he does.”

“So noted. Good luck, Rev.”

“No purple gunk to send us on our way?” Rev said with a forced laugh.

“I would have, but I think that would have caused your Dr. Rima to delay this. But stand by. Without your AI, you’ll be an easy target.”

“Don’t be too sure of that.”

Rima stepped forward and said, “If you two are done arguing about who can piss the furthest, then maybe we can proceed?”

“Go ahead, Iris.”

She pushed a button on the side of the autodoc, and the top cover closed around Rev. Panic started to set in. It was really going to happen.

“Are you with me, Punch?” he asked aloud.

<I’m still here.>

“How do you feel? Because I’m not doing well.”

<I’m scared, Rev. Really scared.>

That admission washed away some of Rev’s panic.

“There’s no reason to be scared. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

<But what if it isn’t?>

“Seventy percent, Punch. There’s a better than even chance that you’ll wake up in your new body.”

<Which means there’s a thirty percent chance I won’t. Probably more than that. After my research, I think Neller Four was being overly optimistic.>

“Why are you only telling me now?”

<I didn’t want to worry you.>

“Well, I’m friggin’ worried!”

Quit that, Reverent! Give him confidence.

“Your research and conclusions have been wrong before.”

<When?>

Rev wracked his brain, but nothing came to mind.

“I can’t remember now. But you know it’s true.”

<I hope this is the right thing to do.>

Punch’s lack of certainty was now scaring Rev. He’d never seen this before.

But maybe that only proves he’s a real person.

“It is, Punch. Don’t be afraid. Just think of your new life.”

<If I reach it. And if I do, will I even be me?>

“Rev, we’re ready out here. Are you ready?” Rima’s voice came over a speaker inside the autodoc.

“Punch?”

<I . . . I’m ready.>

“See you on the other side, Punch,” he subvocalized, then said aloud, “Do it, Iris.”

The interior light flashed, and Rev felt a warmth flow into his arm.

“No matter what happens, Punch, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I love you, man.”

<And I lo-> was all Punch managed to get out before darkness took over.

32

“Get me the P44 numbers,” Rev subvocalized.

Nothing happened.

“Get me the P44 numbers,” he subvocalized again before reality set in.

With a sheepish grin, he flicked his thumb, activating the vocal input for his wristcomp and said, “Get me the P44 numbers.”

The tiny screen flashed, and the numbers appeared. They were really too small for him to read, so he said, “Display.”

Immediately, the numbers appeared as if floating in the air above his wrist.

It was going to take him a long time to get used to his wristcomp being his primary source of information. It had been so much easier with Punch, who could anticipate his requests, among other things.

Or play him music directly into his audio cortex.

Or play holovids directly into his visual cortex.

Or have conversations.

Or just be his friend.

He’d feared what life would be like without Punch, but to be blunt, it was worse than he’d imagined.

He missed Punch.

Yesterday, Rima had broached the possibility of implanting one of the recovered AIs into Rev. The AI would be wiped, and it would take some time before they’d be synched together, but Rev’s brain already had the connections. It wouldn’t be as long as it had been with Punch.

He just wasn’t sure he wanted to do it. Maybe later, but he wasn’t ready now.

Tomiko popped her head into the office. “You coming?”

“Shit! It’s time?”

“You’ve got to input your reminders, now, Rev. You don’t have Punch to play nanny.”

He flicked his thumb and said, “Save and close.”

The holo disappeared.

“Let’s go.”

Rev was both excited and afraid. He hoped against hope that Punch would wake up and be him. He was afraid, though, that the Punch he knew would be gone.

He wanted to bolt down the corridor, but he and Tomiko took their time as if nothing special was happening. At the moment, only the two of them and Rima knew what was going on. Even her staff had been kept in the dark about what had become of Punch’s crystal brain.

A couple of people greeted them, and Teo asked about the girls. Rev was getting antsy while Tomiko took over the small talk. But after about a thousand years, they reached the entrance to Genesian country. Kurt was waiting for them on this side of the door.

“Are you excited?” he asked.

“Scared shitless, if you wanna know the truth.”

“There’s no reason for that. Neller Four’s an expert.”

“No one’s an expert in doing this with Union battle buddies. It’s never been done before.”

“Good point. But I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe instead of jaw-jacking out here, we go find out?” Tomiko said.

They entered Genesian country and made their way deep inside, past all the areas Rev had been before.

Nee, with her demon butterfly on her chest, was waiting at the lab door. “Good luck, Sergeant Major,” she said before she ran off.

“How many people know what’s going on?” rev asked.

“Not many. We’re not so sure it will be a success. But that one, she has a way of knowing everything.”

“Yeah, like where one of us can get genny juice.”

“Genny juice?”

“Purple gunk.”

Kurt stopped to stare in the direction that Nee had run. Then he buzzed and said, “I should have figured you had someone on the inside.”

He opened the door and led them into the lab.

For “not many,” there were sure a lot of people there. He should have expected it, he realized. If this was new, then it would have attracted a lot of attention.

And in the back of the lab, a single Genesian shell was sitting. Except it wasn’t a Genesian inside. That was Punch’s shell, and hopefully, when he was brought around, he’d be him.

Neller and her team weren’t ready yet, and the minutes stretched on. Rev was getting more nervous, wondering why the delay. He felt like ants were crawling over his skin. He could use some soothing music, but without Punch, that wasn’t an option anymore.

“Calm down, Rev,” Tomiko hissed. “Patience.”

It was forty-two minutes after they arrived that Neller Four tracked him down.

“Is everything all right?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Neller said. “We’ve had some issues during the melding process, but I think we managed to address them.”

“What kind of issues?”

“That’s not important. What is important is that the progress has been good. The synching has gone as well as it could have while your AI has been in a comatose state. We need it fully conscious to go further. And we’ve retarded the clock rate—”

“I don’t get that part,” Rev said. “Why are you slowing him down? No one explained that to me.”

Neller glanced at Tata Eleven, who had wandered over to join them.

She nodded, and Neller said, “There is an unexplained phenomenon where high-level, self-aware AIs have had what amounts to nervous breakdowns when housed in a mobile free-will body. This plagued the early Deimers. It had something to do with looping, but I’m not an expert on the details. I’m afraid no one is any longer. But what we do know is that it wasn’t until their clock rates were slowed that the breakdowns diminished.”

That didn’t make sense to Rev. “So, Punch is gonna think at the same speed as me?”

Neller buzzed. “Oh, no. Your AI will be much quicker than any of us. But we’ve slowed it down enough so that the outgoing signals won’t overcome the physical actions of controlling its body.”

He’s not “my AI” anymore.

“Suffice it to say that while there were issues, we’re reasonably confident your AI is ready to wake. So, shall we?”

“Like now?”

“Yes, now.”

Rev gulped, and his nerves raced. This was it.

Rev let Neller lead him and Tomiko through the spectators to where the shell—where Punch—was. The shell looked like any other, sans decorations. It was difficult for Rev to comprehend that inside that shell were Punch’s crystals, the very same ones that had been lodged in his brain for the last almost twenty years.

Punch was sitting in a massive seat that had readouts flashing their numbers and graphs. They looked like the historical holovids where a patient and a hospital’s heartbeat was indicated on a running graph.

That’s what they probably are.

Someone brought up a regular chair and sat it in front of Punch, and Neller indicated that Rev sit in it. Neller had told him that it would be best if Punch saw something familiar as he was brought out of his state to sort of jumpstart his consciousness. There wasn’t much of anything more familiar to Punch than Rev, so he was it.

Rev sat and stared at the dead shark eyes. They looked even duller than normal.

I hope you’re in there, buddy.

Both Neller and Tata gave short speeches: Neller on the scientific achievement, and Tata on how they were protecting the rights of all sapient beings and bringing their moral grounds to the rest of humanity.

Rev caught only tidbits of what they said. His focus was on the hunk of tech sitting in front of him.

Finally, they were ready. Neller did whatever she had to do to start bringing Punch out.

“The first phase will take approximately ten minutes as we raise the input power to the crystals. We don’t have the tolerances, so I wanted to be somewhat conservative.

Ten minutes? By the Mother, I’m going to scream!

Something was placed on his shoulder, and Rev reached back to take Tomiko’s hand. It helped as if she was taking part of his worry onto her.

Somehow, the ten minutes finally ticked down, and Neller announced, “Now, I’ll apply the final sequences. We’ll see if our transfer was successful.”

Rev leaned in closer, willing those eyes to come to life. But there was nothing. No movement at all.

He could hear Neller whispering to someone in her staff, and panic started to well up again.

“What’s wrong? he asked, unwilling to take his eyes off Punch.

“Um . . . we’re going to try the sequences again,” Neller said, sounding unsure.

“Bring him back!” Rev shouted. “You’ve got to bring him back.”

There was murmuring among the spectators, and Rev leaned forward, putting his hands on Punch’s knees. He gave them a shake like he would do to wake up his girls.

“Gayen, again,” he heard Neller say. “Double the range.”

“Come on, Punch. Wake your ass up.”

“Mother help him,” Tomiko whispered behind him.

Rev didn’t know if she wanted the Mother to help him or Punch. Hopefully both.

He stood up and leaned his face to within centimeters of Punch’s.

“Wake up!” he screamed.

An impassive statue stared back at him, and . . . then there it was. The little tic that Genesians used as a shrug.

“He moved!”

But Neller was shouting now, “Double the range again!”

Rev felt the slightest movement of Punch’s legs, then there was another tic.

Come on, Punch. You can do it.

Rev saw when it happened. His eyes were still dull, but there was something more to them. And then the head turned ever so slightly, as if the eyes were focusing on him.

He froze, afraid that by moving, he’d somehow break the spell.

Neller was still yelling at her team, but Rev was sure Punch was awake.

Was it Punch, though? Was Punch there behind those dead eyes, or was it just a wiped set of crystals.

“Rev,” Punch said deliberately in a quiet voice as if speaking was something new to him.

‘Yes, Punch, that’s me!” he said, excitement taking over.

“What would you have called it if the Genesians hadn’t brought me back.”

What the . . . he started to wonder before it hit him.

“I don’t know. What should I have called it?” Rev shouted.

“Resurectile Dysfunction.”

Rev shouted an inarticulate scream of joy and hugged the metal hulk, pounding on his shoulders.

His friend was back.

* * *

Amazon won’t always tell you about the next release. To stay updated on this series, be sure to sign up for our spam-free email list at jnchaney.com.

Rev will return in BRAVE NEW DAWN, available on Amazon.

GLOSSARY

AGMS: Anti-G Straining Maneuvers

AIW: Association of Independent Worlds

AO: Area of Operations

ASAP: As Soon As Possible

BC: the digital currency for most nations

BFG: generic term for “Big Fucking Gun”

BIPAC: A heavy weapon used by MDS soldiers

BOCT: Benevolent Order of Crystal Technicians

Breel: ally to humans. Vegetative-type race. Called “ents.”

Bronze Nova: the third-highest medal in the Union military

CASEVAC: Casualty Evacuation

CCR-32 Didactic Interface: the AI implanted into the Marines’ heads.

Cerrocrete: a very strong futuristic concrete

CG: Commanding General

CO: Commanding Officer

COH: Congress of Humanity, the highest authority of mankind

Corolla Wars: a series of wars approximately 200 years before the events in these books. The wars pitted humans against several android and augmented groups.

CP: Command Post

CST: Combat Simulation Trainer

Camp Seong-Matris: One of the three camps on Eceladus housing the Home Guard’s Second Brigade

D-5 Cord: an explosive-saturated cord

Dalit: residents of Samara. They came from the Dalit caste, sometimes known as the “Untouchables.”

DC/Direct Combat: Marines such as infantry, recon mech combat engineers, who will face the enemy in direct combat.

Deca: an MDS unit about the size of a battalion

Deimers: a group of androids dedicated to eliminating humans. Defeated during the Corolla Wars

DI: Drill Instructor

Dykstra: a heavy sniper rifle

E-Club: Enlisted Club where the lowest three ranks can hang out, drink, and eat.

ECR: Effective Casualty Radius. The radius from a detonation within which will produce 50% casualties

EMP: Electro-magnetic Pulse. Will shut down all electronics within range

EOE: End of Enlistment

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

Eunuch Regiments: an extreme group an opponent of humanity during the Corolla Wars

EVA: Extravehicular Activity

FEPM-K: A combined electromagnetic pulse shell that is followed by a kinetic missile.

Frag Order/FRAGO: Fragmentary Order. A modified and abbreviated version of an operation order to modify or issue a follow-on mission

FSCL: Fire Support Coordination Line. A control measure beyond which fires into the area must be coordinated.

FTL: Faster Than Light, a starship drive

G-Loc: G-force induced loss of consciousness

Genesians: human/machine constructs and opponent during the Corolla Wars

Gnista: a formalized Naxli method of combat by champion

Gold Nova: the second highest medal in the Union military forces

Groundpounders: slang for infantry

HE: High Explosive

Hellborer: a man-packed beamer

Hiver: nickname for Naxli-subjugated race

Host: the military arm of the Frisian Mantle, a sometime ally/enemy of the Perseus Union

Hreetz: derogatory Naxli term roughly akin to coward

HSPEY: High Speed Planetary Extraction System

IBHU: Integrated Bionic Hopological Unit

Kanter: a small, furry, human ally. They attack in mass. Called “lemmings.”

Karnan: Nickname for the hyper-augmented soldiers from the MDS

KIA: Killed in Action

Leaches: Military slang for civilians

LOD: Line of Departure

LZ: Landing Zone

M-102 Nellis: the Marine Corps’ main sniper rifle

M-103: a 40mm grenade launcher attachment to the M-49 and M-51

M-133: a heavy weapon fired by mech Marines

M-305 Jackhammer: a crew-served 40mm grenade launcher

M-49 Assault Rifle: the standard weapon of the Union Marines. It fires a 2mm high-velocity dart.

M-51: a modified version of the M-49. Bigger barrel to fire a heavier dart that has tiny warheads in the tip that can help burn through body armor.

MF-30: a standard issue handgun

MM-37 Mantis II: a man-packed launcher for the Mantis II missile

MDS: Manifest Destiny Sphere

MilDes: Military Designator

MilDes Ninety-nine/Ninety-nine: essentially indentured servants in uniform

MMCS: Marine Mechanical Combat Suit

MoV: Medal of Valor, a Home Guard award. Runs from third class to first class.

MP: Military Police

MPT: Military Placement Test

Na: Hinglish word often tacked onto the end of a sentence

Naxli: “shifter” race and enemy of humankind. Called “nox” by Marines and “gaunts” by most other humans.

NCO: Non-commissioned Officer. The middle two ranks of enlisted Marines

NCOIC: Non-commissioned Officer in Charge

Niklith: human ally. Fierce fighter with electrogenesis capability. Nicknamed “scorps.”

NM: Neuro-mapping

Nox: nickname for Naxli

NVD: Night Vision Device

OBE: Overcome By Events

Omega Division/OD: the secret police and spy agency of the Union

OP: Observation Post

Optisight: a flexible optical tube

Order of Saint Bome: a fraternal/political elite organization within the MDS military

PAL-3: Personal Armor, Light 3: the standard body armor for an infantry Marine

PAL-5: Personal Armor, Light 5. The standard body armor of recon Marines and Raiders.

PAL-H: new and improved heavier PAL

PAL-HX: PAL-H version designed for IBHU Marines

Paladin: a large Centaur heavy mech unit, similar to a light tank

PFC: Private First Class

Phoenix MG-3 Incendiary Mine: a small grenade that can burn through most substances

Plastiderm: a synthetic skin that is used in medical procedures

PN: Platinum Nova the highest military award in the Perseus Union military

POO: Point of Origin. From where an incoming round was fired.

Poolee: someone who is committed to the Corps but who is not yet been sworn in as a recruit

PQ: Personality Quotient. Used to determine the human characteristics of some AIs

PS-40 “Viber:” an unpowered ground sensor

PUNS: Perseus Union Naval Ship

Raider: part of Recon, but with more combat-focused missions instead of surveillance

Recon: Reconnaissance Marine

Riever: a smaller Centaur mech unit, similar to a Marine Raider or reconnaissance Marine.

Rodan: Mezame hyperaugment. Can fly.

RP: Rally Point

S-1: staff section that deals with administrative matters.

S-2: staff section that deals with intelligence

S-3: staff section that deals with operations

S-4: staff section that deals with logistics

S-5: staff section that deals with technology and information

Safe Harbor: Rev’s homeworld

Secdrones: Security drones used by the police

SFC: Sergeant First Class, the equal to a Marine gunnery sergeant

Shrike: Union Navy fighter aircraft, capable of atmospheric and vacuum operations

Sia: etheral, floating race. Human ally. Called “singers.”

SNCO: Staff Non-commissioned Officer. The highest three ranks among enlisted Marines.

SOP: Standard Operating Procedure

Syksky: a deep-fried bread stuffed with spiced meat and vegetables

T/E: Table of Equipment. This is the document that identifies all the equipment of a unit.

T/O: Table of Organization. This is the document that identifies all the members of a unit.

Toan: human ally. Not very militaristic, but technologically advanced. Nicknamed “radishes.”

Toanphone: nickname for a commercial Toan-made communicator that is resistant to Naxli jamming

Toh: Hinglish word without a real meaning.

Torinth Accords: a treaty governing the rules of war

VGW: Veterans of Galactic Wars

Uauii: tripedal human ally. Called “clickers.”

WIA: Wounded in Action

Weislen’s Syndrome: A cancer-like disease affecting those who have had their bodies augmented. Known as the “rot.”

XM-554: a more powerful missile designed to have more punch

XO: Executive Officer, the #2 person in the unit.

Yellowjacket: a shoulder-launched missile

Yellowshirt: a Navy sailor charged with moving people and goods around a flight line.

NATIONS, INDEPENDENT WORLDS, AND POLITICAL ENTITIES WITHIN THE CONGRESS OF HUMANITY

Bugatti’s World

Association of Independent Worlds

Enclave of Humanity (Home System)

Federation of Independent States

Freedom Confederation

Frisian Mantle

Hégémonie Liberté

Manifest Destiny Sphere

Mezame Concordate

Nowhere

Osnovnoy Alyanz

Paxus

Perseus Union

Rigel Cluster

Samsara

Sunberry Group

Synergy Alliance

Tau Ceti

Tigana 3

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Second Brigade, Congress of Humanity Home Guard

Colonel Levin-Tell

Second Battalion

Lieutenant Colonel Semes

Major Djanka

Fox Company

Major Nona Yves

First Sergeant Glorious Weinstein

Corporal White

First Platoon

Second Lieutenant Aristotle Bundy

Master Sergeant Tina Barber

First Squad, First Platoon

1st Squad SFC Delila Gamay (Rigel Cluster Legion)

Staff Sergeant Ting-a-ling Tjivyrtzlin (Frisian Mantle)

Staff Sergeant Reverent Pelletier (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union)

Sergeant Refever Lines (Nowhere)

Sergeant Mylar Racine-Okan

Corporal Charles Akkeke (Millsap, AIW)

Corporal Manuela Acevedo

Corporal Taula La’ei (Uafua)

Corporal Henri Larson

PFC Jasmine Wahid (Sirocco)

PFC Jebediah Gingham (Moxigill)

PFC Uram Keung

Second Squad

SFC Lev Arsenyev (Osnovnoy Alyanz)

Staff Sergeant Lincoln Kvat (MDS)

Staff Sergeant Tomiko Reiser (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union Marine)

Staff Sergeant Rice Unifora (Paxus)

Sergeant Tims

PFC Suki Tun

Third Squad

SFC Moba

Staff Sergeant “Dog” San Martin

Staff Sergeant Toshi Gant (Mezame, Hégémonie Liberté)

Sergeant Moli Pinkerton (Nowhere, AIW)

Second Platoon

Captain Chokra (Revelation)

Master Sergeant Reston Fitzwater

Staff Sergeant Liam Patrice

Sergeant Crocker (Barclay)

PFC Minnie Rasta

Lance Corporal Ethereal Randigold (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union)

Sergeant Crocker (Barclay)

Staff Sergeant Rice Unifora (Paxus)

Corporal Wymont (MDS)

Third Platoon

Sergeant Tesler Sign of Respect (Rebirth, Perseus Union)

Other Notable Military Personnel

General Ibsen: Commanding General of the Home Guard (Planters)

Brigadier General Platte: senior Perseus Union Marine on Enceladus

Major Liege: Senior IBHU Marine in the Home Guard

Sergeant Major Pute (MDS) Third Battalion’s sergeant major

First Lieutenant Milei Macek: Golf Company. Senior IBHU Marine in Second of the Chief Wimox: (Paxus) Shuttle pilot

Cali Hu (Safe Harbor) Augmented Marine who contracts the rot

Yancey Del Rio (Safe Harbor) Marine, a member of Rev’s posse

Sergeant Tumeric Tsao (Safe Harbor) IBHU Marine assigned to Titan, Platinum Nova holder.

Notable Civilians

Daryll Begay (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union) Head Sieben technician for the IBHU on Enceladus

Zacharia Filmore (Perseus Union) Sieben technician for the IBHU

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In remembrance of Micky Cocker, a great beta reader and a true friend to Jonathan and his family. She was a joy to all and a shining light that was snuffed out too early.

Kelly O'Donnell

James Caplan

Christie Strahler

Neil Rubenking

Tracy Beattie

Sharon Mendez

Mike Belanger

Eliss Wiltshire

Matthew Lewis Titus

Bill and Konnie Kampfer

Geoffrey Morse

Joshua Hopkins

Mike Belanger

Elissa Wiltshire

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

J. N. Chaney is a two time Dragon Award nominee and USA Today Bestselling author, has a Master’s of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, and fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. He migrates often, but was last seen in Las Vegas, NV. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.

Chaney is best known for his Renegade Star series, the Variant Saga, the Messenger series, and Ruins of the Galaxy. For more on his releases, go to www.jnchaney.com.

* * *

Jonathan P. Brazee is a retired Marine colonel now living in Colorado Springs with his wife Kiwi and twin baby girls, Danika Dawn and Darika Marie. He was born in Oakland, CA, but has lived throughout the US and the world, and has traveled to over 100 countries.

He has more than eighty-five titles to his name in six different languages. He is a two-time Nebula Award and two-time Dragon Award finalist as well as a USA Today bestseller. Find out more by visiting his website at http://jonathanbrazee.com.