Back From the Dead (21 page)

Helton
: Ship: where are Quinn’s parents?

Ship AI
(quiet female voice)
: Father believed deceased. Mother’s last known location was boarding the Mockingbird on Pad C6 three days ago.

Allonia gasps.

Helton
(quietly and carefully)
: Do you have any grandparents, aunts, or uncles around here?

Quinn shakes his head.

Allonia
(faltering)
: Do you have any family?

Quinn nods and makes a small motion indicating the room around him and the people in it. Allonia loses it. She starts crying, grabs Quinn in a huge hug, mumbles choking words of support and care. Sar comes over to join in.

Helton
: You can stay here until we get it all sorted out, of course.

Quinn
: It’s okay. Ship already said I can stay!

Lag
: I know war and unrest creates orphans, but I didn’t expect any quite like this.

Quinn
: I’m not an orphan. Orphans don’t have families!

Helton
: Kids are tough. You’re tough. You’ll be okay.

The First Sergeant suddenly gets something in his eye.

Harbin
: He’s a little younger than normal, but I’ll see if I can work a powder monkey into the training rotation.

Secret Agent

“Secret Agent Quinn on a super-secret special assignment. All clear. No enemy troops in sight.”

It’s night time on
Tajemnica
, and Quinn is creeping along a passageway on A-Deck, narrating as he goes, wearing his uniform and a small backpack. He peers around a corner, then scampers down the hall, stopping in front of the captain’s cabin. The light on the security panel changes from red to green and the door unlocks with a soft click, then opens slowly and silently. Quinn peeks in. Helton is not there.

Quinn sneaks in, goes to the desk, and looks at the three reddish crystals on it. “Yes, those,” the Ship AI whispers in a female voice. He takes off his pack, puts the crystals inside, closes and shoulders it, then heads for the door. He peeks around the corner to check the passageway, then steps out. The door closes silently behind him and softly clicks as the security panel light changes back to red. Quinn slips down the passageway holding his finger pistol at high ready.

He makes his way back to his cubby, takes the crystals out of the pack, and holds them up to the screen. “Now what?”

A diagram appears, depicting the screen itself and the dozen empty sockets next to it. Then it turns into an animation of removing the socket covers, inserting the crystals, and putting the socket cover back on. Quinn does as the animation indicates, biggest on top, smallest on the bottom. “Thank you very much, Quinn,” the Ship AI says in its friendly teacher voice. “Now remember, I’m keeping it as a surprise for them, so please don’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be fun.”

“
Ex voto
. Keeping secrets is what secret agents do. When’s my next assignment?”

“All in good time, Quinn. Soon. In the mean time, what story would you like to hear?”

“How about the one where you met the first starship captain?”

“Ah, one of my favorites.” Quinn snuggles down into a small beanbag chair with a blanket. The screen begins displaying images of Old Earth and a moon base. “I was based at Luna Base Four…”

Quirks

Helton, Stenson, and one of Stenson’s new hires, Erikson, are in Engineering working at a cradle holding a three-meter hunk of machinery with its guts spread out around them. They all have their hands in it, looking at diagrams and parts, and turning wrenches and screwdrivers.

“Yeah, that one right there,” Stenson says.

“Okay. Got it,” Helton answers.

Allonia walks by the open door, stops, and sticks her head in. “Seen Quinn recently?”

Helton looks up. “He was in here a little while ago. Took off all of a sudden.”

“He needs a bath. Know where he was headed?”

“
Tajemnica
: location of Quinn?” Stenson asks without looking up.

“Unable to locate.”

“Won’t tell me, either,” Allonia complains. “Says it would be cheating; Quinn is playing hide-and-seek.”

Helton smiles. “Follow the tracks, then.”

Allonia is confused. “Tracks?”

“We are on a spaceship, Helton.” Stenson says skeptically.

“And he’s a five-year-old boy in need of a bath.”

Allonia walks quietly through the port passageway on A-Deck, looking around carefully. She examines a bulkhead closely and smiles, seeing a small, waist-high hand-print, slightly greasy and shiny.

“Ahh, the garden. Gotcha!”

The men are still working in Engineering, focusing on diagrams and their own individual tasks. Without warning, music erupts from the ship’s PA system, fast banjos playing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.” They look at one another, confused, and Helton opens his mouth to say something. Suddenly Quinn streaks by the open door, stark naked and sprinting for freedom, with Allonia in hot pursuit.

“Quinn, come BACK HERE!”

Stenson and Helton chuckle, but Erikson is still a little surprised. “Ship’s computer is a few bits shy of a full memory bank.”

“More than a few,” Helton says. “‘Quirky’ is an understatement. Try querying for
plumbing diagram
.”

Erikson looks skeptically at them, then says, “
Tajemnica
: ‘Internal plumbing diagram’.” On a nearby screen, an image of the female reproductive system appears, including ovaries and uterus.

“That’s new,” says Helton. “I got a schematic for an early hydropower dam last time. Just have to be very specific.”

The music ends abruptly with a screech. They exchange glances and resume working. Moments later Allonia walks by the door with Quinn tucked under her arm, struggling futilely. “But I DON’T WANT A BATH!”

“Tough,” Allonia says. “It’s time, want one or not.” The sounds of struggle disappear down the corridor.

“Little guy doesn’t know what he’s missing,” says Erikson. Helton and Stenson nod and grin, and they all go back to work.

Rule Two

Recruit Darch stands at the top of the stern stairwell on A-Deck, listening. He cautiously sticks his head out and glances both ways. He steps into the passageway furtively, then into the nearby hatchway to the hydroponics garden. Darch shuts the door behind him carefully, and the hum of the air system covers the sound of its closing.

Allonia is alone in the garden. Her newly made blue uniform, with more pockets and a belt with small pouches, is both functional and flattering. She stands near the back of the room, among bright lights and growing plants, a workbench to one side and racks of supplies on the other. She is pollinating flowers with a soft brush, so intent on her work that she does not hear Darch enter.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Allonia jumps and spins around. Darch looks at her with a hungry, lustful expression. He’s wearing light body armor, carrying a pistol and large fighting knife on his belt.

“You know, you really are too gorgeous to be alone in the world. How about we not be lonely together?” She shrinks back in fear as he steps toward her, undoing his body armor with his left hand. “I think your flower needs some pollinating, too.” He reaches for her. She knocks his hand aside, hard, and his face shows surprise, then an ugly snarl. “A pretty but poisonous flower.” He draws back his hand to slap her.

The table surface screen in the Officers’ Mess displays a diagram of
Tajemnica
. Helton and Kwon sit at the table with Lag, Harbin, Kaminski and Kat.

“If we can open this up, maybe move this door here, to there?” Kwon suggests, pointing to the middeck area.

“No, Stenson says we still don’t know what’s in there,” Helton says. “It’s sealed up ti–”

BLAM. A muffled gunshot. Then more in rapid succession: BA-BA-BLAM.

Guns drawn instantly, all four Plataeans cover the door, Kaminski and Harbin jumping with compact rifles to either side, Kat and Lag drawing back with pistols aimed down the middle, Lag speaking into his forearm-mounted com screen.

“All units! Flash Status! Unknown shooter A-Deck! Squad up where you are and hold!”

His screen shows a simple ship diagram scattered with yellow dots that turn green as soldiers report in. One dot turns red, just down the passageway, in the garden room. It’s the only dot on A-Deck other than those in the Officers’ Mess.

“One down in the garden, far corner! Cover and bound!”

Harbin and Kaminski spring out the door, covering the hall in both directions. Lag and Helton, pistols at low ready, move out between them, and they hustle as a group down the passageway. Kwon draws a small lock-blade knife and crouches to one side of the door. Kat stands fast, covering the doorway with her pistol.

Kaminski and Harbin burst through the garden door. They clear the room at high speed and run to the back, covering both sides while Lag moves down the center. They all arrive at the back corner at the same time and stop short.

Allonia stands with a blank expression on her face and a pistol in her hands, pointing it at Darch. He’s lying on a heap of gardening equipment, his head, neck, and body at very unnatural angles. His armor is askew, there are four bloody holes in a tight group in his chest, and the hilt of his fighting knife sticks out from his side.

The pause lasts forever. After a fraction of a second, everyone decides and moves.

Harbin checks the rest of the room.

Kaminski secures his gun and speaks into his wrist com, “Lieutenant Kat needed in the Garden.”

Lag secures his gun and speaks into his com. “Stand down. All units stand down. Squad leaders, check and clear weapons. Come-as-you-are inspection and announcements in the cargo bay in ten minutes.”

Helton secures his gun and carefully steps forward. “It’s all over, Allonia.” He gently takes the pistol from her hands, drops the magazine, clears the chamber. “It’s over. You’re okay.”

“He was, was going to, he…” Allonia stammers. Then her shock and fear turn to rage. “The BASTARD was going to rape me. HE WAS GOING TO RAPE ME!”

Kat’s there now. “Come on. Let’s go outside,” she says. “It’s over, it’s okay.” She takes Allonia by the arm and gently leads her away. “You did what you had to do. It’s not your fault. You’re safe now.”

Helton, Lag, Harbin, and Kaminski approach Darch’s body. The workbench behind him is dented and crumpled, things that had been on it scattered or crushed by his impact. Kaminski leans in to examine the body more closely.

Kaminski
: … Damn.

Lag
: … Impressive.

Harbin
: … Good group.

Helton
: Ah, crap.

Kaminski looks closely at the knife in Darch’s side. It’s placed in the armpit, just above the armor, at an angle that probably missed the heart, but punctured a lung. The armor is partially pulled aside from his chest, where there are four bloody holes.

Kaminski
: Deep and clean. Sucking chest wound isn’t the quickest way to stop a guy, but definitely fatal without a fast medic. Didn’t secure his armor correctly, or was unsecuring it.

Harbin
: Easiest recruit in the lot to kill.

Kaminski examines the bent metal workbench. He puts some weight on it and it barely flexes.

Kaminski
: He hit that hard.

Harbin
(disgusted)
: Alone. No restraints with him. Major target selection failure. Improperly equipped, poor location, wrong time. Bad idea, no planning. Pathetically poor execution.

Kaminski
: Looks like an unusually vigorous application of rule number two.

Harbin eyes the scene critically, grudgingly appreciative, but looking for nits to pick.

Harbin
: Not very efficient. Killed him three times. Four, if you consider the two pairs in center-mass separate. More than strictly necessary.

Kaminski
: But for an amateur, any style points she lost in efficiency I think she more than made up for in thoroughness and clarity of communicating “leave me ALONE.”

Lag
: His background?

Harbin
: Councilman Darch’s second son.

Helton
: Great. Wonderful!

Lag
: Ah. That Darch.

Harbin
: Minor criminal history, but shockingly, no convictions.

Kaminski
: Kid might still be alive if he’d learned crime and stupidity have consequences earlier. Instead he learned his parents can bail his sorry ass out.

Harbin gives Kaminski a sharp look for interrupting.

Harbin
: So-so shot. Poor self-discipline. Marginal physical condition. Chronic poor judgment. About as useful as running out of ammo. Would have been cut in the first round next week on psych.

Lag
: Hell. Connected family. Attempted rape. Broken neck. Air-conditioned with his own pistol and playing scabbard. Cosmically bad execution of an attempted crime. In violation of both direct and general orders, as well as common sense and decency.

Everyone waits while Lag thinks, absently scratching the back of his neck.

Lag
: One of the more spectacular training accidents I’ve seen in a long while. Corporal!

Kaminski
: Ahhhh, shit, sir!

Lag
: He was in your squad, and you have a way with words. You and your team have the afternoon off to clean up the mess and write up one of the most epic death-by-stupidity reports of all time. I look forward to reading it.

Harbin grins wickedly.

Lag
: On the bright side, it looks like your training program passes inspection, Corporal. Or else you have an extraordinary student. Please see about setting her up with her own gear. Next time her attacker might not be so incompetent.