Atlas (40 page)

I reclined in my chair, putting my hands behind my head, and watched the stars through the mess hall's main window. "So, less than forty-five minutes till we reach the Gate. You think we're going to make it? Or is that Skull ship going to show up at the last moment and block our way?"

She didn't answer right away. "Of course we're going to make it. Most of us."

"Yeah. Most of us."
My thoughts drifted back to the planet, and I relived Alejandro's death all over again. It was funny how a word, or a turn of phrase, could send me right back.

I remembered that purple Phant, coming on too fast. I remembered Alejandro leading it away to save Tahoe and me. I remember him...

I blinked away the death. Such a waste. Such a horrible way to go.

I wondered, as I often did, what made that purple Phant move so much faster than the blue ones. I wondered what I could have done to save him. If I hadn't let my mech get possessed...

Speaking of which, whenever I thought about those possessed mechs, especially the Bravo Platoon ones, something tugged at the back of my mind. Something about what Pyro had said about his escape. Something important. But for the life of me I could never quite figure out what it was.

"I don't know why I waited so long to tell you,"
Shaw was saying. "I should have said something last night, when we were together. It's so much better to deal with stuff like this in person. But, it's so hard, Rade, and—"

"What? Did you just say something important?" I sent, distracted. The possessed mechs...

"Uh. Rade. I—"

Then it hit me.

"Shaw,"
I interrupted her. "The Phants. I know why that Skull ship left us alone."

"What? Why?"

"Because of the ATLAS mechs."

"I don't understand."

I ran from the mess hall. "Remember how I told you that you can't tell when a Phant has possessed a mech? Because the profiles of the ATLAS 5s are too big, and completely hide the things? Well, guess what we have on board right now?
Two ATLAS 5s, courtesy of Bravo Platoon's survivors."

"But that doesn't mean there are Phants inside."

"Yes, but something Pyro said makes me think otherwise. Probably should sound General Quarters. Send my Chief to the launch hangar, would you?"

"Okay, Rade. But what are you going to do?"

"Just checking something. Send him, please."

A technician was running a diagnostic on Ladybug, Manic's ATLAS 5, when I got to the launch hangar. The repairmen had done a bang-up job on the thing—the mech looked like new, save for a few scratches and dents and a leg that seemed slightly off-kilter from the rest of the body.

I glanced at the storage alcoves beside Manic's mech, where the two ATLAS 5s brought up from the surface by the survivors of Bravo platoon were moored.

All three mechs looked completely normal.

Yet any one of them could be housing a Phant.

Maybe all three of them.

I kept myself at a distance. "Shouldn't you be in your berthing area, preparing for the Gate jump?" I told the technician.

"Just getting in some last minute fixes, sir," the technician said, with the usual respectful tone the crew displayed toward MOTHs. "Become a sort of obsession for me, fixing up Ladybug, it has."

"You make it sound like you're the only one who's worked on the mech."

"Well," he grinned sheepishly. "That's because I am, sir."

I pursed my lips, and regarded his work. "Not bad. What's Ladybug's operational status?" I noticed that the weapons had been detached from the mech's arms. That was standard safety procedure during diagnostics. You didn't want weapons going off while you were working on a mech. There wasn't even a deployable ballistic shield. The other two ATLAS 5s had their weapons and shields fully attached however, but not in the "gun-on-hand" position.

"Except for the left leg, she's running almost perfectly, sir," the ATLAS technician said.

I started walking toward the far side of the hangar. I could see the dents and runnels torn into the deck from where we'd crash-landed the MDV on the return trip from the planet. "And what's the problem with the left leg?"

"Well, I'll need to put in a new hip servomotor eventually. I salvaged a lot of parts from Aphid, and 3D-printed almost everything else. Unfortunately, we're low on printer material, and the Cap has ordered all nonessential print jobs placed on hold till we're back. For some reason repairing the ATLAS 5s is considered nonessential."

"Yeah, sometimes priorities are pretty whacked shipboard, aren't they?"

"Isn't that the truth. I— excuse me, sir, what are you doing?"

I'd just opened up the jumpsuit closet.

"I hadn't received word about a spacewalk," the technician continued.

I didn't answer him. I put on the thermo body undergarment, then slid on the lower torso assembly. I shrugged on the hard upper torso and twisted it into place with the lower torso.

The technician stood up. "Sorry sir, I'm supposed to order you to stand down."

"Talking behind my back, are you?" I said.

Keeping my eyes on the technician, who looked more afraid than anything else, I put on the arm assembly of the suit, followed by the gloves and boots. Finally I strapped on the rebreather subsystem and secured a jetpack. I twisted the helmet on and activated the oxygen.

I was supposed to wait an hour for my body to adjust to the internal pressure of the suit. But there wasn't time. I could've tried to shoot out the brain cases of the ATLAS 5s instead of what I had planned, but that would have just caused the Phants to emerge.

Right in the ship.

Definitely not a good idea.

Chief Bourbonjack burst into the hangar with three other members of Alfa platoon: Facehopper, Skullcracker, and Tahoe. A fire team. They all carried pistols.

General Quarters still hadn't sounded, I noticed.

"What's this about a Phant on board our ship?" the Chief said.

"I'll show you." I turned toward Ladybug and was about to activate my jumpjets when the fire team pointed their pistols at me.

"Stay where you are, Rage," Chief Bourbonjack said. "I want you to take off that jumpsuit. That's an order." His voice softened. "Look, I told the LC we would deal with this quietly. I know you've been distraught over Alejandro's death. So if you do as I say, and take that suit off right now, I'll let this slide. No one else has to know beyond this room. Come on, son, take it off and we'll go see the doc."

"The doc," I said, coldly. "You think I'm delusional."

Chief Bourbonjack shook his head sadly. "You've been a wreck since Alejandro and Big Dog died. And now with what Shaw's doing, you've snapped."

"What do you mean, what Shaw's doing?"

Chief Bourbonjack scrunched up his nose, like he was confused. He glanced at Facehopper, who shrugged.

I didn't have time for this. "Look, you've all fought at my side. You know me, and you know I'd never let you down. Believe me when I tell you that the ship is in danger. All of humanity is."

"Rade," Tahoe said. Like Alejandro before him, he'd never quite gotten used to calling me
Rage
. "Listen to the Chief. We're here to help you, not hurt you. Take the jumpsuit off. We'll go back to the berthing area and sit the Gate jump out. We can talk about—"

"There isn't anything to talk about. We have to keep those Phants where they belong, on this side of the galaxy. I'm not backing down on this."

"You think there are Phants in the ATLAS 5s, do you?" the Chief said. He walked toward the mechs while the rest of the fire team kept their 9-mils trained on me.

He reached Ladybug and rapped on the metallic leg piece with his knuckles. "Anyone home?" He glanced at me, eyes twinkling, then he turned toward the technician. "Open her up."

The technician obeyed, and the cockpit folded open. The Chief climbed the support rungs on the right leg, and peered inside. "You see? No mist."

"Look in the small gap beneath the open hatch and the hull. Is the brain case surrounded by blue, glowing mist?"

The Chief peered into the gap. "Nope. The brain case is just fine."

"What about the other two?"

Chief Bourbonjack nodded at the technician, who activated the cockpit releases on the two Bravo Platoon mechs. The Chief climbed the rungs of each ATLAS 5 in turn and peered into the cockpits.

"Nothing. No blue mists around the brain cases. There's a little condensation, but that's about it. Satisfied now?"

Well, that was certainly unexpected. But it didn't mean I was wrong. There were lots of places a Phant could hide inside a mech.

The Chief leaped
down to the deck and nodded at the technician. "Close 'em up." The cockpits of all three ATLAS 5s sealed. "Now stand down, Rage."

I gazed at Facehopper, Skullcracker, and Tahoe. At the pistols they had aimed at me. I smiled sadly. "If you have to shoot me, then do it now. Because I won't stand down." I looked pleadingly at Tahoe. "You know me. You
know
me. I wouldn't do this if we weren't in danger. Something occurred to me about what Pyro said. When he ran into one of the mists during his escape, he thought he was a dead man, but he kept running, and got away.

"I believe he was wrong. He didn't get away. I believe the Phant stowed away in his mech without him noticing. When a Phant invaded Hornet, it went straight for the brain case and left me alone. If I hadn't had my eyes inside the cockpit, I would have never seen
it do that. The problem is, the mechs are too big, and hide the profiles of the Phants, unlike the smaller Centurions. I'm telling you, there's at least one stowaway Phant inside this hangar."

"What if you're wrong?" Tahoe said.

"Then courtmarshal me."

"You're already going to be courtmarshaled," the Chief growled.

"I can prove it."

"How, by tossing the mechs overboard?" Chief Bourbonjack said.

"Basically, yeah."

"You're crazy."

"As I said, shoot me." I held my arms wide. "Shoot me."

They didn't shoot.

I activated my jumpjets and flew across the hangar, issuing the command to open Ladybug's cockpit while I was still in the air. Manic's former mech was provisioned to respond to my Implant, while the other two, belonging to Bravo Platoon, were not. I landed in the pilot's seat but before I could seal the cockpit I found myself staring into the receiving end of the Chief's pistol—he had climbed the rungs of Ladybug's leg before I landed, and he held his 9-mil's barrel right up against my facemask.

His eyes blazed. His lips were pressed together so severely beneath his mustache that the skin had become a milky white.

"Can't let you toss three billion digicoins worth of equipment overboard, Rage," the Chief said. "If the others won't fire, then I will. You know I will, goddammit."

I stared at my Chief. Yes, he would.

I could try to close the cockpit, but he'd easily let off three or four bullets before I could. At this range, the armor piercing rounds would go right through my facemask and come out the back of my head. There would be some minor damage to the cockpit. Easily repairable.

"Chief, listen to me," I said carefully. "Is three billion
digicoins worth the risk of transporting a malevolent alien being into our space? A potentially invulnerable alien that can dissolve human flesh at a touch, and possess our robot support troops, our ATLAS 5s, and use them against us? Do you really want to be known as the Chief who allowed this threat into our space?"

"And if you're wrong I'll be known as the Chief who allowed billions of
digicoins to be thrown overboard."

"I'm not wrong."

Chief Bourbonjack stared at me for the longest time. His eyes never stopped blazing, not for an instant. They drilled right into me, judging me, probably searching for any sign of doubt, or lack of conviction, or insanity.

"You're going to make me shoot you, aren't you?" the Chief said.

I didn't know if he expected an answer, so I didn't say anything. I just looked into his eyes, waiting for the shot, expecting it.

If I had to die for what I believed in, then so be it.

"Damn it." He pointed the pistol upward, away from my face, but still ready to bring it down at a moment's notice. "I've seen that look before, in the eyes of trainees during Trial Week, trainees who would rather die than give up their dream. You're not going to back down, are you? You really believe you're right?"

"I do. Look, if I'm wrong, I'll spacewalk out and retrieve the mech
s."

"Okay, Rage. Okay. I'll humor you. Goddammit."

He lowered the weapon and then climbed down Ladybug's rungs, boots clanking with each step. "Clear the deck people. We're depressurizing this bunghole." He glanced at the Bravo Platoon ATLAS 5s. "Never liked those mechs anyway."

Seated there in the cockpit, I peered into the small crack beneath the open hatch and the hull of my mech, gazing into Ladybug's innards, and I noted that there was no mist surrounding the brain case. Though I supposed that didn't mean too much. As I said, there were many places a Phant could hide in these things.