Starship Tomahawk (The Hive Invasion Book 2) (5 page)

Early afternoon sunshine slanted through the trees in Veterans Memorial Park. Janice Ling sat on a bench under an oak tree, soaking in the serene beauty of the scene. Lush grass surrounded her. Like the oak, it could never have survived in the parched Baja Peninsula without human intervention. The whole park, with its flower beds and shade trees and shrubs, existed on artificially enriched soil and had to be extensively irrigated.

The park, she reflected, was as artificial and fragile as the sense of tranquility she stubbornly clung to. There was nothing tranquil about her life these days. She lived in a maelstrom, and her mini-vacation was about to end. She had to step back into the storm.

Her gaze strayed from the dappled pattern of leaf shadows on the grass, rising in spite of her. She looked across the Boulevard of Heroes at the long fused-sand wall of a block of row houses on the far side. Her apartment was in that block, and it had been her haven in a bustling city, her oasis of peace in a chaotic world.

Not any longer. Now the apartment felt like a prison, a dangerous trap. Too many people knew where she lived. It had never bothered her, before.

But she'd never been infamous before.

With a reluctant sigh she tilted her head and brought up a menu on her implants. Getting her implanted electronics restored had been painful and tedious, but completely worth it. She already couldn't remember how she'd coped without functioning implants for all those long weeks on the
Alexander
.

A flashing light in the corner of her eye told her she had messages waiting – dozens of them. The temptation to ignore it all and go back to enjoying the park was strong. She suppressed it.

Most of it was from strangers. She was tempted to filter out everything that wasn't from someone she knew, but that would eventually cost her priceless story leads. She sighed again and resigned herself to slogging through the whole stinking mess.

In most cases the headlines made triage simple.
Lying Bitch. Die Traitor. YORE NOT HUMAN.
She ached to delete those ones. Instead she dumped them into a separate folder, in case she ever wanted to write an article about the backlash to her exposé.

For every death threat and message of hate there was a message thanking her, blessing her, or calling her a saint. She glanced at some of the headlines, smiling, then deleted the whole works. The messages came in a torrent. She didn't have time to read them all, never mind reply.

There was a message from Pan Galactic, trying to schedule an exit interview. She deleted it unread. The cowards had fired her. She wasn't going to trek across town to sit in a meeting room and explain herself.

There were job offers from a handful of media outlets, most of them fringe organizations who wouldn't actually pay a salary. She saved those, just in case. The future was nothing if not uncertain.

Near the bottom of the list she found a message from her mother. She opened it without enthusiasm. Mom was pretty conservative. She believed in supporting the status quo and the establishment. The message would undoubtedly be a lecture about endangering her career, with perhaps a few words about how every citizen owed the government support during a time of crisis. She braced herself and started to read.

Janice, I'm so proud of you. I always knew you had courage and integrity, but in the last few days you managed to exceed even my very high expectations. I know a lot of people are criticizing you. Don't you listen to them! I'll tell you what I tell every single person who has the nerve to bring up the subject with me. You did the right thing!

When I look at those poor peace protesters I just want to scream in fury. Those awful EDF people scare me. I know they must have scared you, too. But you didn't back down. You exposed them for the bullies and monsters they are, and you make me so proud I feel like my heart is going to burst.

Tears filled Janice's eyes, distorting the text, and she stopped reading, wiping her eyes.
I must look pretty funny, sitting here crying and smiling like a fool.
She glanced around. The park was almost empty, and no one was paying her the slightest attention. She finished drying her eyes and kept reading.

The rest of the message continued in the same vein. She'd lost her job, but any company that wouldn't support her decision was a company not worth working for. More opportunities would come along, from employers who valued integrity and courage. She would catch some flak, but everyone knew that bullies were cowards. She would come through it just fine.

"Thanks, Mom," she murmured when she came to the end. She closed the message list and leaned back on the bench, smiling and shaking her head. "I should have known you'd be on my side."

She sat there smiling until the rumble of tires on asphalt caught her attention. She looked up.

A couple of large vehicles came rolling down the Avenue of Heroes. The electric engines were silent, but the vehicles, some sort of car-truck hybrid, were massive enough that their tires made a distinct racket. Both vehicles were black, with large tires and elevated suspension that gave them a vaguely military look. Tinted windows added to an overall sinister impression. She somehow wasn't surprised when they rolled to a stop in front of her apartment.

Doors flew open and men and women spilled out. Black and red uniforms made her think of exotic beetles, something dangerous and unpleasant. Sunlight glinted on gun belts and put a silvery sheen on black armbands. They were too far away for Janice to read the white letters stenciled on each armband, but she knew what the letters said.

The EDF had grown up rapidly in the scant few days since the election. Acton was gaining quite a reputation as a man who could get things done, and done quickly. Within hours of his inauguration he had given official status – and a considerable budget – to the EDF groups that had grown like mold in cities all over the world. They had proper uniforms now. They had handcuffs, and badges, and guns.

She watched, numb, as a battering ram smashed open the front door to her building. Then she stood, turned, and walked as calmly as she could across the park and away from her home.

She didn't look back.

The
Tomahawk
dropped through a wormhole, and suddenly the bulk of Ariadne filled the port window. Before Hammett could speak the planet dropped away in a blur of red and brown and he saw stars above a curving horizon as the corvette leveled out. Then the ship plunged toward the planet, and the stars faded as the
Tomahawk
entered atmosphere.

"
Achilles
is with us," Kaur announced, and Hammett felt a tiny bit of the pressure he was under bleed away. Plenty remained, of course. Jumping this close to a planet was dangerous to the point of being foolhardy. He certainly wouldn't try it without a functioning AI. That would take things beyond mere stupidity and into the realm of the suicidal.

"No contacts so far," Touhami said. He leaned over his console like a vulture, eyes fixed on the display like his life depended on it.

The windows now showed blue sky with a green tint. It was pretty, and Hammett wished he could take a moment to enjoy the sight. Instead he watched their descent on his own screen. The ground rose quickly. The ship's belly cameras showed a beige plain with blotches of green where swathes of genetically modified grass clung stubbornly to life. In a couple of centuries the whole planet might have breathable air.

I wonder if any human beings will be alive to breathe it?
He pushed the thought away.
Focus on winning the war. You're doing well so far. Okay, you're skulking and hiding and avoiding the enemy. The point is, it's working.

So far.

Benson said, "Touchdown in thirty seconds or so. I don't see anything that looks like cover."

The land below seemed to be a mix of rolling plains and naked rock. "Any place will do," Hammett said. "Just get us on the ground."

"Right." Benson's left hand tapped at the helm controls while his right hand moved in the air, manipulating more controls through his implants. "Touching down now."

The
Tomahawk
landed with a thud that made Hammett's teeth click together. Clouds of dust rose on either side of the bridge. A moment later he saw a silvery gleam as the other corvette landed a couple of dozen meters to starboard.

"Sorry about that," said Benson.

Hammett shook his head. "I wanted us down quick, and that's what you did. No apologies necessary." He turned to Kaur. "What do you see?"

"Nothing so far," she replied. "If they saw us, they haven't come after us yet."

They could be gathering their forces. Or waiting for that behemoth in orbit to get around to this side of the planet. Or maybe the big ship will spot us as soon as it finishes its orbit. Or-

He squashed the line of thought.
You'll deal with them when they come. In the meantime, knock it off with the frightened granny routine. This isn't your first dance.

Kaur said, "What now, Sir?"

"Now we wait." He glanced at Sanjari. "That alien ship takes ninety minutes to orbit?"

"Ninety-three minutes and a few seconds," she said.

"We'll wait ninety minutes," Hammett said. "If they aren't swarming us by then, they don't know we're here."

"What then?" Kaur said.

How should I know? I never dreamed we'd make it to the surface undetected.
"Then the
Achilles
will land in the crater and try to make contact with the colonists. The
Tomahawk
will remain here. Then we'll wait for word from the
Achilles
, or from the
Bayonet
, whichever comes first."

"Excuse me, Captain."

James Carruthers straightened, barely managing not to touch the captain's bars on the collar of his uniform. He was still not used to the rank. He turned to face Specialist Kuzyk. "What is it, specialist?"

Kuzyk's hand went to his sleeve, unconsciously touching his rank bar, and Carruthers smiled. Kuzyk had been promoted from the rank of cadet at the same time Carruthers was made captain. He was no more used to his rank than Carruthers was. "There's a lady here to see you."

No rank. So it has to be a civilian.
"Another bloody reporter?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell her to go away." When Kuzyk didn't move, Carruthers said, "Well? What's the problem?"

"It's Janice, Sir!" Kuzyk reddened. "That is, it's Ms. Ling. From the
Alexander
."

Carruthers scowled. Did she think to presume on their history together? Remind him they'd been shipmates, and pressure him for an interview? It was completely inappropriate, and he felt a rising annoyance.

Even worse, he realized her ploy was going to work. They
had
been shipmates, and she'd gone far beyond what any civilian passenger could be expected to do. She'd helped keep the
Alexander
flying, and that meant something in Carruthers' book. He wasn't going to do an interview. It was inappropriate, and he didn't have the time. But he would tell her so to her face, and he'd do it politely. "Bring her in," he said. "Don't let her touch anything."

Kuzyk nodded and hurried away through the crowded hangar. Carruthers pushed the former cadet from his mind and turned to look up at his new ship.

The corvette
Indefatigable
was done her refit and ready to fly. She didn't look good. Ugly welds showed where weapons turrets and a missile cradle had been added, and the fighter on the top of her hull looked like a tick sucking blood from an unsuspecting host.

Still, beauty was not her purpose. Fighting was. She looked, as Richard Hammett would have said, like a "proper warship". Carruthers stepped aside as a pair of sailors pushed a hover cart full of supplies past him and up a ramp into the ship. "You're ugly," he murmured, "but you'll do."

"You're kind of ugly yourself, you know."

He turned, smiling, and found Janice Ling smirking up at him. "Janice! It's good to see you."

The smirk changed. Her chin wobbled, and he had the strangest sensation she was about to burst into tears. Then she shocked him by stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. She squeezed him hard enough that the air left his lungs and he couldn't quite manage to inhale.

Above her head he saw Kuzyk staring at him, wide-eyed. Carruthers gave the boy a fierce look, and Kuzyk whirled and set off across the hangar, looking for something to do.

Janice let go and stepped back, dabbing at her eyes. "Sorry. I just – Oh, Jim, I really needed to see a friendly face."

"All right," he said, mystified. "I'm glad I could help." She'd been a rock all through the long weeks of unrelenting strain on the
Alexander
. In one crisis after another he'd never seen her crumble. To see her this upset was unnerving.

Janice took a deep breath, then looked around as if checking who was in earshot. "Listen," she said, suddenly businesslike. "I need a favor. It's a big one, too. I'm sorry to ask, but believe me, it's important."

"All right," he said uneasily. "What do you need?"

"You're launching soon, right?" Before he could answer she waved a hand to stop him. "I know, there's things you can tell a reporter, and things you can't. I understand."

Carruthers nodded.

"I need to go with you. As an embedded journalist, just like on the
Alexander
."

He gaped at her. "No," he said at last. "No, it's out of the question. It's not something I can approve anyway. The brass would decide something like that. They'll say no, and if they ask me what I think, I'll tell them it's a really bad idea." She opened her mouth and he held a hand up. "Janice. Believe me, if I had to take a journalist along I wouldn't want it to be anyone but you. But we're a tiny ship." He waved a hand at the
Indefatigable
. "A corvette. It's too small for passengers. And we're going into a war zone." He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, but no."

He expected disappointment. Possibly an argument. He wasn't prepared for the expression of naked fear on her face. She said, "You have to get me off Earth, Jim."

He was staring at her, trying to figure out how to respond, when Kuzyk stepped into his peripheral vision. The boy had a hand up, and he stepped in close, almost touching Carruthers' sleeve.

"I'm busy, Kuzyk."

"Captain, you have more visitors. These ones aren't waiting for permission to come in."

Boots thumped on the concrete floor of the hangar, strangely loud, and Janice slid behind Carruthers. He could feel her hands on his elbows. She was using him for cover, hiding from whoever was coming across the hangar.

Carruthers realized his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it. The new arrivals came into view, three men and a woman rounding the bulk of another corvette maybe fifty paces away. They wore red shirts and black trousers, and he recognized their black armbands. They wore pistols on their hips, too. They paused momentarily. Then one man pointed up at the
Indefatigable
and they headed straight for the ship.

Carruthers, without turning his head, said, "Kuzyk. Stand beside me. Right beside me. Eyes forward."

Kuzyk, wide-eyed, complied.

"Janice, you get behind him." Her hands vanished from his elbows, and Kuzyk started to turn his head. "Eyes front, damn you!" Kuzyk's head snapped around. "Wait until you hear me start talking. Then get onboard the ship. Kuzyk, you stay between her and our guests."

Not waiting for an answer, Carruthers marched forward. He angled well to the left, putting plenty of distance between himself and Kuzyk. He circled around the ship's forward landing gear, staring at the newcomers, and folded his arms across his chest. He lifted a hand, raked fingers through his hair, then re-crossed his arms. Any kind of motion to draw the eyes of the approaching redshirts. Kuzyk was lousy cover. Janice's only hope was if the EDF group was distracted.

It seemed to be working. All three of them stared at Carruthers as he advanced. When the woman's eyes strayed toward Kuzyk, Carruthers barked, "What the hell do you want?"

That brought all three sets of eyes back to him. He stomped up, then took a couple of side-steps to draw their attention even farther to the left. "This is a military facility," he said. "You can't just barge in."

Confrontation. That's the key to holding their attention.
"I should probably have you arrested. Ordering you shot might be excessive. Arrest is pretty reasonable, though." He took a step forward.

"Now, hold on!" The spokesman was the man in the middle. He wore a black sash across his chest and a sour, angry expression. "We're not civilians. Don't you recognize EDF uniforms?"

"You're not in the military. That makes you civilians."
She must be on the ship by now. I can dial it down.
"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I'm Colonel O'Hare with the Earth Defense Force."

You're a colonel? In an organization that was only dreamed up three weeks ago?
He didn't try too hard to hide his amused contempt. The man was a swaggering, self-important little bully, and Carruthers loathed him instinctively.

"We're looking for this woman." O'Hare drew out a palm-sized holo projector and touched it. Janice's head and shoulders appeared in the air, with her name underneath. "Have you seen her?"

A cold wave washed through Carruthers. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew he was in the middle of it, and he knew which side he was on. "Sure. That's Janice Ling. She was on the
Alexander
. I've probably seen her on the feeds since then."

O'Hare's lips thinned. "Have you seen her today?"

Carruthers could feel his alarm fading, replaced by annoyance. "Maybe you can watch the feeds when you're at work," he said. "I'm busy."

O'Hare didn't like that much. "She was seen heading in this direction."

"This is a secure military facility," Carruthers said. "At least, it's supposed to be. Reporters are about as welcome here as civilians in funny costumes."

O'Hare's face took on a reddish tinge. "I'm going to search this hangar, and I'm going to search your ship."

"Like hell you are."

O'Hare ignored him, gesturing to his underlings. They started moving, one going to either side. O'Hare took a single step toward the
Indefatigable
.

"Kuzyk!" Carruthers spoke without turning, his eyes on O'Hare. He used his command voice, and all three EDF agents froze.

"Sir?" The voice came from behind Carruthers. Kuzyk sounded unsure, but he'd run the Hive gauntlet with Carruthers, and survived a bloody mutiny. He wouldn't falter.

"Go to the weapons locker. Get yourself a sidearm. Keep the ship secure."

"Aye aye, Sir." The boy still sounded uncertain.

"Kuzyk? When I say to keep the ship secure, what I mean is, shoot any civilian stupid enough to put a foot on the ramp."

"Aye aye, Sir." Now he sounded almost indecently cheerful. Carruthers heard a metallic clatter as he ran up the ramp into the ship.

O'Hare put a hand on the butt of his pistol.

Carruthers stepped close to him, close enough to grab the man's arm if it became necessary. "I don't know how you talked your way past the sentries at the door, but it won't work again. You're leaving. You can walk out, or I can give you a good hard toss." He smiled, the special smile he used to discourage bar fights. It still worked, he saw. O'Hare shrank back a tiny bit. "Guess which one I'd prefer."

The EDF man gathered himself. "You're interfering with the EDF. We're the defenders of the Earth. You're committing treason."

Carruthers laughed, an astonished burst of sound that made O'Hare flinch. "You little piss-ant." He gestured at the
Indefatigable
behind him. "I'm outfitting a warship that's about to go battle the Hive in Naxos. You're getting in the way. And you're accusing me of interfering with the defense of Earth?" He planted his hands on his hips. "Let me get this straight. You're interrupting the Navy's efforts to prepare for interstellar war. And you're doing it so you can chase a reporter? One who helped us fight the Hive on board the
Alexander
?"

O'Hare didn't speak, just turned a darker shade of red.

"What did she do? Tell the world what you morons are actually like?" Carruthers snorted. "Get out of my hangar, you pompous little shit."

O'Hare's right arm moved, ever so slightly, and Carruthers leaned forward, turning the smile back on. "Go ahead. Draw that gun." He leaned in even farther, and O'Hare leaned back. "I dare you."

The EDF man's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Then he whirled and stomped off toward the exit. The other two followed, and Carruthers walked along behind them. They reached the security station at the hangar entrance, and the trio stalked outside.

Carruthers rounded on the sentries, a pair of sailors, one in a glass booth, the other standing beside the door. "If you two clowns let in one more unescorted civilian I'm going to come down here and kick you in the balls so hard you'll taste semen every time you clear your throats."

The one in the booth said, "But they were ED-"

Carruthers lifted his foot and the man, despite being behind bullet-proof glass, flinched. "Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir," said the other sailor, his voice meek.

Carruthers gave them each a disgusted look, then returned to the
Indefatigable
. When he stepped onto the ramp he found Kuzyk at the top with a blast pistol levelled. Kuzyk lowered the gun quickly. "Sorry, Sir."

"You're doing what I told you. You can stand down now, though." He climbed the ramp and lowered his voice. "How many people saw Janice?"

"I'm not sure. Not many, I think." He gestured aft. "There's a couple of quartermasters in Storage Bay Two and an electrician on the bridge. I don't think they saw anything." He looked past Carruthers at the hangar. "Everyone else was busy looking at you and the redshirts."

"She was never here," Carruthers said. "Understand? Get her a set of coveralls and stick her in a cabin." He thought for a moment. "Stick her in your cabin. Bring her food. Nobody knows she's here but you and me. Nobody finds out. Understand?"

Kuzyk nodded hesitantly.

"Where is she?"

"I'm here," said a small voice. Janice peeked around a corner behind Kuzyk. "Thank you, Jim."

He waved that away. "Where's your cabin, Kuzyk?"

They hurried to the cabin without meeting anyone along the way. It was a tiny room, the floor not quite as wide as the sleeping pod. All three of them crowded in, leaning against the wall because it was almost impossible not to.