Stepping Up (17 page)

“Okay, Shownya. I trust you ’cause you’re my friend...”

My helmet keeps flashing
signal loss from primary weapon
port. 
I shut down port 3 so it will stop giving me the message. Sadly, my
shotgun will not interface with the aiming system.  And, with my helmet on, I
will be shooting from the hip.  I load my SP-10 with plasma rounds and move
towards the fight. I head into the maneuver drive area through what used to be
the iris valve. I can see the alien that is pinning Freddie down. I have a clear
shot.  I ripple off two rounds.  At the same time, I hear and see the coolant
cross feed rupture through the containment system.  There’s a big gray cloud to
my right front, also a high-pitched whine, like a scream.  I hope it’s not
Freddie.  I feel the heat wave blaze across my armor.

“Outstanding, Squatter, scrap another bug.  One is down, the
other is acting like a worm in bleach.” 
Good.  His voice sounds strained
though.

My first shot hits the alien in the thigh. The projectile
buries itself before it explodes in a very small (in principle) nuclear
explosion. His thigh and one-third of his abdomen disappear. He drops to the
floor howling. He reels around and gets a shot off in my general direction. His
chest catches my second round. It finishes him off.  His aimless fire goes
nowhere near me.  But it does hit several conduits.  We now have some very real
unplanned leaks, which will need attention. 
Good thing we depressurized,
with no air there are no fires.

Freddie lets loose with a barrage of fire that would make
the most hardened soldier quiver.  I’m not a hardened soldier, and I do a lot
more than quiver.
I wish I’d finished the liquid waste collection system.
The intruders take as good as they gave.  Between us, Freddie and I kill all
three of them.  But there’s a cost.  Freddie must have thrown a plasma grenade
at the last invader. There’s a horrific explosion.  There is no way he could
have gotten clear in time.

I make my report while manually closing some valves,
restoring coolant pressure to the engines. 
If we repel the boarders and
lose the ship anyway, our situation has not improved.
  “Bridge,
Engineering.  Three enemy KIA.”

“Roger, Engineering.  Friendly status?”

I hear a call from Freddie. “S-S-Sonia. Get over here. I’m
in bad shape...”

“Medical team report to Maneuver drive room 2.  One wounded,
one non-responsive.”

I go around the corner and see Freddie.  His left arm is
missing. His APE suit is venting blood. I snatch his first aid pack and place a
field pressure dressing over the singed stump.  The dressing matches to the APE
suit to help address depressurization but he is going into shock. “Hang on,
fudge-packer, help is on the way.  I hear the hoof beats of the cavalry
already.”  I do what other field first aid I can.  No need for a tourniquet.
The wound was all but cauterized by the heavy laser blast of the alien’s
weapon.  But the minimal pressure pulled the blood through the damaged skin. 
Ironically, a glancing shot that cut through his suit may have been more
damaging.  I look around, find the arm, and lay it across his chest.

Stan!
“Stan, this is Sonia.  What’s your status?” No
reply from Stan. Freddie shivers violently—it may have been a convulsion—then
passes out.

The Med Team arrives and loads Freddie onto an anti-grav
stretcher for transport to Medbay. They put his arm on the stretcher with him. 
Hopefully, it will be reattached.

I prowl around looking for Stan or more aliens.  As I
recall, Freddie had already taken out one of the other two, but I want to make
certain of that.  And if Stan is down, I want to see how bad he is.  On the way
I put a standard 000 buckshot round into the head of each invader.

I find Stan dead with two direct shots in the sternum and
abdomen; he was dead before he hit the floor.  There are two very large holes
where his heart and intestines should be.

I call Gorb, “I’m coming to let you out; don’t panic.”

I open the storage locker I had told him to hide in.  “Hi
Shownya! Are you okay? I was sad that you might not be okay.”

Aria is speaking on the allCom: “All hands secure from
battle stations. The threat is neutralized.  The ship is repressurizing.” The
surviving maneuver engines kick on, and
Night Searcher
is underway
again.

“Well, I’m not hurt.  I don’t know about ‘okay’ though.  It
looks like we have quite a mess to clean up.  Let’s get this armor stowed and
get busy assessing and evaluating.”

I call Aria with my report: “If you don’t already know:  One
of the Troopers, Stan, is dead. There were some explosions in the maneuver
drive room.  One was initiated on my authority and at my direction.  We’re
going to get on them and get the other engines functioning unless you tell me
something else takes priority.  And I have pieces of three dead boarders down
here. Can you send me a spacer to help with the heavy lifting when convenient? 
Gorb isn’t able to do that.”

“Roger, Engineering.  OPS agrees with your assessment and
priority of effort.  A MOPBOT is on the way.”  Gorb is beside me, bouncing from
foot to foot.

“Need a dose of chocolate to settle your nerves, buddy?”  (A
proper chief engineer always keeps a tube of something sweet in her pocket. 
One never knows when it will come in handy.)  I could do with a dose myself.  I
break the bar in half and let him choose which piece he wants.  I eat the other
one.

“Umm, Shownya! Good!!”

Soon a MOPBOT enters the maneuver room. It is a large robot
that cleans up spills and throws material larger than a soda cracker into a
hopper that pulverizes it and shapes it into small cubes that can be easily
spaced or incinerated.

Aria calls me: “Sonia, special Captain’s meeting in twenty
minutes, bridge conference room.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m on my way.” I run a quick systems check for
my report to the Captain.   The programs in my notepad are already gathering
data.

I tell Gorb, “Keep doing what you were.  I have a meeting to
go to.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  He nods, his mouth full of chocolate.

Ginny enters as I’m going back to workshop 2.  A submachine
gun hangs from her side.  She has blood on her APE suit, but I can tell it’s
not hers.  It looks like we’ll all have some war stories for the campfire.  She
looks appreciatively at my armor.  She gives me a thumbs-up.

I shed my armor and primp as much as I can which isn’t much
more than redoing my ponytail. My nose drifts past an armpit. 
Whoa! That
will definitely need to be addressed! Praise Isis I keep a spare jumpsuit down
here.

It is unusual for the Captain to attend staff meetings
other than the monthly updates. Typically, Aria will gather the information and
present him with a summary. There are, of course, exceptions. This is clearly
one of them.  The Captain sits in his big chair with all the control buttons
and dashboard readouts on the arms.  After collecting our reports, he sits back
and looks at us.

“Thank you for your diligence, my friends. But one of you is
a very talented saboteur. In a moment I will know who.  You can save us all
some trouble by confessing.  Anyone?” He pushes his hood back, his ice blue
eyes staring at us.  He takes the respirator assist from his neck and sets it
down. I’m terrified.  I can only look at him.  I know how the rabbit feels when
the rattlesnake’s eyes lock on it. His visage is terrifying. He gazes at each
person seated at the table for about thirty seconds each. When he looks at me,
I break into a cold sweat. A wave of—ecstasy is the best word that comes to
mind—sweeps over me. I tingle all over.  I feel my heart’s tempo increase, my
breath shallow. My palms are sweating.  And as quickly as it starts, it is
over.

After a complete circuit of those at the table, his gaze
settles on Nordon Beloit, the ship’s treasurer. “So it is you.” The Captain’s
eyes narrow.  Nordon grabs his throat as he falls to the floor, gasping for
breath.  The veins in his head and neck are on the verge of exploding.  He
literally turns purple, rolling on the floor. He keeps gasping and choking as
the Captain speaks. “This traitor sabotaged the sensors. That caused us to make
unnecessary changes in the fuel mix parameters.  That appears to have created
and then pushed us through a wormhole of some kind. We have no idea where we
are, but we are close to a planet.  Aria, you will take Chief MacTaggert,
Troopers Watson, Jones, and Ralston in cutter twelve and determine if this is a
place from which we can obtain materials to build a long range sensor array. We
will be in cutter range in less than twenty-four hours. Drag this clod of Rison
droppings behind your ship when your team is ready. The atmosphere can cremate
him.  Dismissed.”  He puts his respirator collar back on and leaves.

I have a Captain who can kill with a thought and appears
to place little value on life in general.  Something terrible must have
happened to him.  Before leaving the conference room, I brief Aria on engine
status, then head back to the Maneuver drives.  Hopefully, there will be a
minimum of functional damage, no structural damage, and only a lot of painting
needed.  Yeah, in my dreams. En route to work I, perCom Avi: “Did you weather
the attack okay?”

“I’m okay, but we’re busy. Fortunately, casualties were
pretty light.  You?”

“Nothing a hot shower and some sleep won’t fix. How’s
Freddie? I think his last name is Call.”

“He’s stable.  I gave him something to put him to sleep.  It
seems you made quite an impression on him; he couldn’t stop bragging about
you.  He wasn’t the worst wounded, so he hasn’t gone into surgery yet, but he
probably will within the hour.  We’re optimistic about his arm.”

“Good to hear.  I’m not sure what my timeline is yet, but
how about a nightcap followed by an early breakfast? I’m on the away mission
coming up tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a deal to me, darling. Estimates have us full
bore until the critical are stable, so wait for me in the lounge. I’ll join you
there, and then we can make more plans for afterwards.”

“Sounds good.”  Bleep. “Hang on, sweetie.”  I push the
hold/answer button.  “Chief MacTaggert.”

It’s Aria. “Sonia, we will all meet in the Ship’s Boat Bay
at 0700. We will check everyone’s gear and head down.”

“I’ll be there. Anything out of the ordinary that I need to
bring?”

“Yes, comfortable clothes along with normal gear and
weapons. Bring your best ‘come hither’ outfit as well. We may have to do some
‘negotiating.’” 
Oh great, first a Trooper is pimping me, now the Ops Chief
is pandering me.  Well, if this Engineering thing doesn’t work out for me,
maybe I have a future in the gentlemans escort and entertainment area.

“Roger.  I can do that.  I have one in my closet and I may
be able to borrow another.  MacTaggert out.” 

Bleep. “Avi, are you still there?”  He isn’t.  To be fair
though, the med bay is sure to be swamped.  I do have a text message from him
though:
If you get there before I do, wait for me.  I hope not to keep you
waiting too long.  And if I’m there before you, I’m okay with it. You’re worth
any wait. –Yours Forever, Avi

When I get into Engineering, I find Gorb looking at a
whiteboard with many items hastily scrawled on it. “How bad is it?” I ask as I
look over his shoulder.

“That’s what Ginny and me found.  What’s firstest?”  All of
it is important; half is urgent; thankfully none of it is critical. 

I pick up a different color marker and number things in as
close to priority as I can figure.  Ginny wanders over; her face and coveralls
are already grimy. The three of us look over my prioritizing. We discuss and
decide.  I make a few changes.  My notepad beeps.  My inbox is flooding with
work orders from all over the ship.  I drop the device in a cargo pocket. 
“Then let’s get busy.” 

Before long, we’re all up to our elbows in whatever needs
attention.  I keep an eye on Gorb though. I’m not worried about him making a
mistake. I’m worried about him working himself stupid. Ginny and I take breaks
from time to time.  But we’ve been at it steady for four hours, and Gorb hasn’t
stopped yet.  It’s time for another command decision.

“Gorb! Come here, buddy!”

He ambles over. “Yes, Shownya?” His eyes catch what I pull
out of my breast pocket.  Oddly, he puffs up, ready to argue. “Gorb is busy,
‘Gorb loves to help!’  Everyone says so; it must be true.” I can hear the
indecision blossoming in his mind, “Of course, Gorb works better with
chocolate.  So gimme!”  He holds his hand out.

“Not so fast,” I say, “first you have to sit down for five
minutes.”

“Shownya! Ship needs fixing! Chocolate now! Rest later!”

“And Gorb needs to not fall out and break his nose! Sit!” 
We lock eyes for a minute.  I cannot—I will not—blink first. Oh, he’s good at
this.  But I used to do this with Fuzzbutt.  Gorb blinks first.  “Gorb, this is
a direct order:  Sit down.  Right now.” I say it slowly, deliberately, and
without emotion.  He huffs and puffs, but he sits down.  I break the chocolate
bar and hand him half.

“Only half?” he says around browned teeth.

I have to laugh. “You get the other half when I decide
you’ve rested long enough.”

It’s an incredibly long day. At 1900, I call us all back
together for another huddle.  “Here’s where we are:  The ship is functional  We
have some meatball engineering that needs to be prettied up.  But now is not
the time to do it.  We’ve been on the bounce for about sixteen hours now. 
Leave. Sleep. Come back when you wake up.  I’m going on the shore party, so,
Gorb, you are in charge.  Now both of you can’t be here all the time.  I want
you to split it up into shifts; preferably at least twelve hours. I don’t care
who works when.  I leave that to the two of you. Keep your time sheets honest.
I’ll see you when I get back.”  Of course, there are always reports that need
to be reviewed, approved, folded, spindled, and mutilated.  But first are the
reports from the other engineering teams.  Gertrude and Jack both report they
have some people they can detail to the engine rooms.  I forward the list to
Gorb. 

I set the alarm on my perCom to beep at 1930 and get busy. 
I’m dog-tired, but I take satisfaction knowing that my people are alive and
well.  I head into the ’fresher off the LEO.  I drag a wet towel through my
stinky bits—not exactly a shower, but it should keep anybody from barfing in
the corridor.  I head to the lounge. I don’t really plan on being there very
long anyway.

I’m turning into the lounge when I hear my name in a
baritone voice.  I turn to see Avi walking towards me.  Where my coveralls have
dirt and grease, his scrubs have dried blood.  He has a bag under his arm. 

“Hey, handsome.” I stand on tiptoe to get my greeting kiss. 
“What’s in the bag?”

“I took the liberty of securing one burger, one hot dog, two
bags of chips, and two half-liters of beer.  I thought if your day was like
mine, you’d rather get private and have a picnic.”

“Sounds like a plan.  If I’m not mistaken, my place is
closer than yours.”

“You are correct.  Lead on, Chief Engineer.”

Once inside, he sets the bag on the desk and takes me in his
arms for a more proper greeting.  “Sonia, my sweet?”

“Yes, Avi,
mi amore
?”

“You stink.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell over you.”

“Really.  You smell like…”

I put my finger on his lips.  “Let’s leave that thought
unfinished, shall we?”

“Hmm.  Whatever shall we do?” We share another long kiss.

“Perhaps we should take a shower?”

“Is your shower big enough for both of us?”

“I doubt it, but let’s find out.”  We both strip and I toss
my clothes into the chute for the ship’s laundry.  I start the water in the
shower, and we both step in.  Turns out, it isn’t big enough for two, but it
was fun trying.  Avi steps out claiming chivalry and pointing out it is, after
all, my place.  Okay, fine.  I don’t waste any time.  He fills the sink and
dunks his scrubs in them for a soak.  It’s not exactly laundry, but he won’t
have to put on the same ultra-funky clothes.  He’s done with what he’s doing
before I finish.  When I come out, he has placed the food on the bed. 
Everything is in “to-go” containers, so there’s no worry about spills.  He
hurries into the shower.

I don’t want to start eating without him, even though I’m
starving.  So I brush my teeth, then grab a nail file and scrape as much of the
crud out from under my fingernails as I can.  Through the open door I see Avi
wring out his scrubs and hang them from the shower rod.  He steps out of the
’fresher.

“You aren’t dressed,” he notes.  Not exactly true, I still
have a towel wrapped around me.  Well, I did until he walked into the room. 
Now it’s a puddle of slightly damp terry cloth around my feet.  I kick it
towards the hamper.

“You sound disappointed.  Is there a problem?”

“Well, no.”

“Besides, if I dressed, wouldn’t you feel compelled to do
likewise?”

“Well, I, that is...”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’  Did you bring any clean
clothes?”

“No.”

“Do you really think you’re going to cuddle up to me—in my
nice clean clothes or on my nice clean sheets—in those wet, dirty scrubs?”

“No, I guess I hadn’t…”

“So help me understand this:  You brought nothing else to
wear and the idea of both of us being unclothed is disturbing to you.”  I put
my fists on my hips and fake a pout. “So tell me why you are here.”

He stands and stammers for about thirty seconds, then—still
naked—reaches for the door.  One hand is on the door handle. The other grabs a
towel to put around his waist.  “Perhaps I should go…”

“Oh, I don’t think so!” I plant another long kiss on him.
“I’m sorry; I’m just teasing you.  Besides, if your mum found out about you
walking the halls naked—well, the results would be bad.  Come, sit, do you want
the burger or the hot dog?”

“If it makes a difference, I’ll take the hamburger.”

I sigh. “I’m always the one who gets the wieners.”  He looks
crestfallen. I laugh. “I’m joking, Avi. Relax.”

At 0700 the following morning, I’m in the Small Craft
Bay. Aria and the rest of the team are in street clothes with civilian
rucksacks and weapons. My shotgun is in pieces in my rucksack; I borrowed an
assault rifle.  Turns out, it is the one that was assigned to Stan.  That puts
a lump in my throat, but I suppress it.  I have the borrowed weapon slung
across my shoulder.  Aria and Sherri inspect everyone’s gear.  Aria claps her
hands and says, “Listen up people, here is the deal. We are going to a starport
that is on the largest continent of the planet. The planet has a clean atmosphere,
and is estimated to have three hundred million inhabitants. We want information
about the solar system and ideally a star map so we can determine our location.
Failing that, we need materials to build a large sensor array to increase the
range of our own sensors.

“Team One is Trooper Ralston and I. Team Two is Chief
MacTaggert, Troopers Watson and Jones. We will split up and take one end of the
facility each. As soon as one team meets success, the other will join them.
Miss Landers will fly the launch, and she will stay with it to provide vehicle
security. Are there any questions?”

There are none.  “Excellent. There is a coffee steward over
there. We board in ten.  Chief MacTaggert, a word, please?”

Crap! Is it something I did or something I should have
done?
Turns out it’s neither.  “Sonia, if you have not figured it out, you
are now considered a ‘commander’ candidate for field missions. Thus, you are
team leader. These people respect you and will follow your orders. I have read
Watson’s report.  She was a little fuzzy on the details, but apparently she
holds you in very high regard.  And she is spreading the word.  I have sent
Jones’s dossier to your perCom, so feel free to peruse it on the way down.” We
chitchat a bit further, then she moves on to something else.

I get myself a large coffee and board the cutter. It’s
bigger than the launches I’ve been in so far.  Bigger than the
Balder
class I came aboard in.  It has the capacity to carry a medium sized
anti-gravity vehicle. Shawna Landers, is quite feminine, but I wonder if she
started out as a trooper.  She’s quite attractive; her skin is smooth.  Her
blonde hair is quite cared for and beautifully styled.  But I can tell by the
way her flight suit fits her muscles are well defined. She is already in the
cockpit. Our eyes meet, and we exchange smiles; yep, her teeth are also
perfect.  She’s checking me out, too.  I wonder if she might be Sherri’s
“friend.”  If so, friend girl has good taste in women.

The cutter launches and heads for the planet.  Darn it! I
meant to tell Avi something before I left.  On the way down, I tap out a text
message for him:

I have a homework assignment for you.  I’m thinking
about a ‘hibernate’ state for Strike Armor.  Let’s say a Trooper in Strike
Armor is wounded, lost, or just wants to hide for whatever reason.  If he were
to have a gizmo on his Strike Armor that would shut it down to minimal power,
it would still need to deal with his breathing, etc.  Is it plausible for an
auto-injector to pop him with some sleepy-juice with some staying power? I mean
to the point where he could be mistaken for comatose or dead?  Give it some
thought, and let me know what you find when I get back.  Love you!

I read Jones’s dossier: A pretty stout fellow in his
early twenties, flunked out of Marine boot camp. Something about “excessive
violence.” He’s not the perfect soldier, but he is very, very handy with
explosives and hand-to-hand combat.  A commander’s footnote says he is horrible
in garrison, but a dream in the field. 
Good to know.

The cutter lands on the outer platform of the starport.
There were no challenges from a traffic control office or anyone else. In fact,
there is no COM traffic at all.  There are two ships on the platform: A
fifty-ton cutter and a one-hundred ton starship. There are no people around. 
For a planet of one-third of a billion, it sure is quiet here. 
Where is
everyone?

Once Shawna announces that the cutter is down and secure,
Aria directs, “Everybody out! Perimeter centered on the launch, weapons at the
low ready.”  The shore party spills out of the cutter, and we form a roughly
circular defensive perimeter facing outwards with the cutter at its center.
Sherri is on my right; Jones is to my left. Jones’ eyes meet mine, and he
shakes his rifle.  He’s holding it with the muzzle pointing down to the left
and the butt stock up by his right shoulder.  I copy him and get a wink as a
reward.  Shawna stands in the doorway, her submachine gun in hand, muzzle
straight down.  “If you have not done so already,” Aria commands over our com
headsets, “lock and load. Move out and take a half-mile look around. Team Two:
go west and circle back; check those ships as you get to them.”