Starship Eternal (War Eternal Book 1) (27 page)

Mitchell didn't get out of the fighter right away. He took a minute first to catch his breath and calm, and then slid the cockpit open, removing the helmet and jumping down without waiting for the ladder. Ilanka was already standing on the hanger floor, surveying the Piranha. It was scuffed and dark from a few soft hits from enemy lasers, adding to its already worn patina. It was otherwise unharmed.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy to be alive," she said.

Mitchell's first instinct was to tell her not to get used to the idea. He didn't say it out loud. Instead, he turned and looked at the S-17. The onboard AI had positioned it caddy-corner to the Piranha, it's wing only inches from the other fighter. It had been a closer call than he realized. He eyed it for damage, finding none.

"That ship is amazing," Ilanka said.
 

"Amazing to us. I don't know how fantastic it is against whoever just obliterated Calypso."

The statement stole her excitement. "We made it out alive." It was the only defense she had.

"Watson, Ares, Rain, Shank, Anderson, meet me in Olympus asap," Millie said, her voice echoing through the p-rat.
 

"No time to shower even," Ilanka said, raising her armpit and giving it a sniff. "I think I pissed myself in the excitement."

"I didn't need to know that."

They made their way to the lift and then up to A-Deck, passing by the communications array to the conference room that he had noticed earlier. Watson and Shank were already there. Watson looked calm and thoughtful, while Shank just looked tired. His face was sweaty and marred with grease, his clothes grimy and torn. A small bloodstain had formed near his left knee.

Anderson was there, too, standing in the corner, his face dark.

"Captain," he said when Mitchell walked in, coming to attention.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Mitchell said. He took the seat next to Shank, noticing that the textile was already stained. With blood? Sweat? Tears?

"Officer-"

"Stow it, Anderson," Millie said, entering the room like a whirlwind. Ensign Briggs trailed behind her.
 

The Admiral took a seat at the head of the table. Her hat was off, her hair was down, her eyes red and face tight. She was silent for a minute, staring at each of them.

"What the hell was that?" she said, in barely more than a whisper. It was a simple statement, but the way it escaped her communicated everything they were all feeling. "We lost a lot of people today."

Nobody spoke. There was no clear answer. Only a lot of questions.

"Williams," Millie said, looking at Mitchell. "Any ideas?"

Mitchell tried to collect his thoughts and figure out what he wanted to say, and how to say it without sounding like a complete lunatic. He settled on a question of his own. "Do you believe me now?"

Her face paled. He could see her jaw clenching, sending ripples across the surface of it. "I was afraid to, and hoping you were delusional. I do."

"Believe what?" Shank asked.

"You weren't keyed into the full theater," Mitchell said. "You didn't see them."

"See what?"

"I didn't see them either," Millie said. "I only saw the weapons they fired. It was more than enough."

Shank smacked his hand on the table. "Will someone tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

"The mission was accomplished," Millie said. "The dock is destroyed. So is the cruiser. Except not by us. A new threat. Three ships. They fired energy weapons that punched right through the station's shields and broke down the structural integrity of the shell. It literally fell apart."

Shank didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

"The nuke managed to slow the velocity and break down the weapon," Watson said. "We have to assume it's at least partially susceptible to radiation or EMP."

"Not susceptible enough. We barely made it out," Millie said. She wiped a strand of hair from in front of her face. "What are the odds of them showing up at the same place and time as we did?"

Her eyes were back on Mitchell again, as if he had the answers.
 

"How do we know that is case?" Ilanka said. "Could be enemy is attacking all over."

"Yes," Millie agreed. "We won't know until we get into position to send a message back to Command. We're on our way to the rendezvous point now. ETA six hours. Until then, let's assume that it's just a really bad coincidence. The fact remains that there is nothing in the Alliance arsenal that can stand up to a weapon like that. Throwing nukes a round at a time is a losing proposition."

"Goliath," Mitchell said. "M believed it could help us."

"Who's M?" Watson asked.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?" Mitchell said.

"Granted," Millie replied.

Mitchell got to his feet and proceeded to tell them everything about what had happened to him, from the moment he had been shot to the present. He described the conversation with M in the best detail he could, and they responded with the usual emotions: fear, shock, disbelief. The disbelief was minimal. The whole story was a lot more acceptable after what they had witnessed.

"I thought fighter was experimental," Ilanka said. "It makes more sense that it is from the future."

"Not from the future," Watson said, his eyes alight at the possibilities. "The past. Billions or even trillions of years in the past. This whole concept is very intriguing, especially since it flies in the face of a lot of accepted science."

"I don't care about the past or the future," Millie said. "I care about right now. Mitchell, I still don't see how Goliath can help us? Talk about outdated technology."

"Nobody even knows what happened to the Goliath," Anderson said. He had been quiet until then, standing in the corner like a silent guard dog. "I'm a little fuzzy on my history, but from what I remember the launch was successful, and they always assumed the FTL drive test was good because the ship vanished off sensors when it should have. It was only supposed to be gone for five minutes. It never came back."

"It never came back?" Mitchell said. He hadn't known that. There was still so much about the starship he hadn't gotten a chance to learn. "That sounds pretty important. Where did it go?"

"Nobody knows," Anderson said. "It disappeared. The military assumed it was either lost in space or destroyed."

"Obviously, it wasn't destroyed," Shank said. "Your twin wouldn't tell you to find something that was already dust."

"Even if the Goliath is out there, even if it could somehow be useful against this enemy, how are we supposed to find it?" Millie asked.
 

"I don't know," Mitchell replied. "Somehow, I'm supposed to figure it out. The whole thing is insane."

Shank laughed. "At least you're in the right place for that. What's the plan, Captain?"

"Make the rendezvous and see if Command has anything to report. We'll be close enough to Caldera that we can latch onto their databanks and download a few terabytes of archival data. Watson, we need to be sneaky about it. I don't want anyone knowing that we're pulling old data on the Goliath."

"Yes, Captain," Watson said with a mischievous smile. "Consider it done."

"Did you say Caldera?" Mitchell asked.

"Yes. I know what you're thinking. Yes, our meeting point is in the Rim. No, I'm not going to tell Command about any of this, not right away. They don't know you're here, or even alive, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can. Somebody ratted us out to the Federation. I don't know if they're on this ship, if there's a spy in Command, or worse, if the enemy has already infiltrated our ranks. Whatever the reason, we don't take risks." Her eyes flowed to the rest of the present crew. "All of this is to stay in this room, do you understand? If one word leaks to anybody else on this ship, I'll have all of you out of the airlock before you can stammer a pathetic apology. We all have our pasts, we've all done things we may or may not be proud of. We're still loyal to each other, and to our origins. At this moment, we're not just black ops. We may be the Alliance's best chance at stopping a war."

"Riigg-aaah," Anderson said.

Millie got to her feet. "Services for the fallen will be held in the mess in one hour. Anderson, with me."

"Yes, Captain."

"Dismissed," Millie said.

Mitchell was surprised to find a dress uniform waiting for him when he returned from the shower with Ilanka. It was laid out on his bunk, neatly pressed, two new ribbons resting over the heart. He didn't recognize either of them.

"We aren't technically military," Ilanka said. "We don't get actual medals, so Millie made up her own. It helps keep crew motivated."

"What did I win?"

"That one is called 'bad-ass award.' It is for your first kill. The other is a medal from one of the fallen crew, to be worn to the memorial service. That one was Sunny's Medal of Valor."

Mitchell felt the punch in his gut. He picked up the jacket and fingered the medal. "This is an actual medal."

"Yes. Sunny got that one before she was court-martialed. They took it from her, of course, but Millie got it back somehow."

Mitchell's respect for the Admiral grew at that moment. She was emotional, chaotic, unorthodox. But she knew how to bring people together. "I'm honored to wear it."

"You should be."

Mitchell starting dressing himself, surprised when he got a knock on his p-rat.

"Cormac?" he said.

"Captain," Cormac said. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just had to ask... is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Aliens!" The word came out loud enough in his head that Mitchell put his hands to his ears. He wondered who had started passing the rumor, right after Millie's warning about venting them for having a big mouth.

"Yeah, I guess it is. I'm glad you made it out of Calypso."

"Me, too. You should have seen it, mate. Friggin' Frontier shits just waiting to ambush us. It was the worst firefight I've been in since Babylon."

"You were on Babylon? During the New Terran invasion?"

"Yeah. I was just finishing boot camp. Green as a blade of grass. They dumped a dozen mechs and three hundred exos right on top of us. I was lucky because my squad was out on maneuvers at the time, and we were carrying full ordinance. Even so, we spent three days pinned down, trading shots with the NTs before the counterstrike sent them home."

Mitchell had heard that there was a rogue squad who had used the confusion of the invasion to do some very uncivilized things to a number of the civilians. Cormac was here on the Schism. He couldn't help but wonder if the man had been part of it.

"So, about those aliens," Cormac said. "What do they look like? What color are they? Do they have more than two arms? Do-"

"Cormac," Mitchell said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you always like this?"

"Most of the time, sir. And I've always fantasized about aliens. I mean, we've settled what? A hundred planets across millions of light years? And no other intelligent life. We really are alone out here, which is a bloody shame, if you ask me. I always pictured it like the movies. Women with green skin and three tits, six inch tongues-"

"Cormac," Mitchell said again. "I think you watch too much porn."

"Sorry, sir. Anyway, the idea of aliens gets me a little excited. Even if they aren't sex-starved."

"I don't know what they look like. The only one I met was a replica of me. They might all be like that. Or they might be completely different."

"I wouldn't mind a replica of your roomie. Only in my dreams."

"You have a thing for Ilanka?"
 

"Oh, yeah. I have since I was dropped onto this boat. I try to time my showers so I can be there with her. Not every time of course. I don't want to make it too obvious that I'm only there to get a look." He stopped talking for a couple of seconds. "Oh, bloody hell. You won't tell her I just said that, will you?"

Mitchell glanced over at Ilanka. She was still in her bra and panties, slipping on her blouse. She was in decent shape, and she did have a nice chest. Even so, she wasn't his type. "I think Rain can take care of herself."

"Thank you, sir. I better go finish getting ready. See you there."
 

A soft tone signaled that he was gone. Mitchell finished pulling on his own shirt and pants, and then the jacket. "How do I look?" he asked.

"Very handsome," Ilanka said. "Like your commercial, but more real."

"You've seen the commercial?"

She tapped her head. "We don't get to download new streams very often. Last time was month ago. I have seen your face every day since then. Now I see it twice as much. Is not a bad thing."

They finished dressing and headed down to C-Deck. The mess hall was a large, open room on the starboard side, one of the few spaces with views to the blackness of space beyond. Normally it was filled with more rows of tables than there were people on board, but all of them had been shoved to the back except for one. It was placed at the front of the room, a black cloth laid over it, and a small screen displaying each of the lost soldier's faces spread across.