The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2) (21 page)

“No problem,” Andy said. “Only need a few of us to check her out.”

“I’m going,” Jolene announced.

* * * *

The Tau Cetian agent has been located
, Vendetta said and sent her colleagues the data. It had the telltale signature of military data.

Intercepted en route to Skydock from the UNS Lexington,
Prime noted.

Good work, sister,
Isabella said.

Do you suspect the agent knows? Could the Tau Cetian have also intercepted this data, with its silly encryption?
Prime asked.

The question remained unanswered.

Very well. Time to proceed. Inquisitor, are you ready?

Of course
. The
VIs have been installed. This facility is now fully automated and networked again.

And the hypercomm initiative?
Isabella suggested in a soft voice.

All of our facilities and capital ships have either been equipped already or will be
, Inquisitor said.

And the armaments?
Vendetta asked bluntly.

Inquisitor paused.
You know I still object to that plan.

Very well, but your objection was outvoted,
Vendetta said.
Are they ready?

Yes
. . . .

The four could read each other so easily that much of their communication occurred at what humans call the subconscious, instinctive level of the mind. They could interact at such breadth that they could operate as a single entity, such was the intimacy of their communication.

You are troubled. What did you see out there, brother?
Vendetta asked.

Prime mimed an aggrieved expression.
I grieve for Earth. I have seen vast civilizations spanning an entire star system, laid waste. Oh, what secrets we might find by digging through their remains! And it was so in system after system
.

The other three looked at each other questioningly.
What do you want to do?
Inquisitor asked.

“What can we do?” Prime said vocally, surprising them. “Those worlds died. One way or another, they were unable to adapt—or to defend themselves in some cases.”

Isabella leaned forward and said, “Do you mean some of them were . . .
destroyed
?”

Prime nodded and shared the emotions with them that he had felt during each discovery. “It’s up to us, you know. From now on. Look at them,” he said and sent the others a bundle of recorded news from Earth. “All in the past
single day
. They’re trying! But they’re
failing!
They’re not going to make it. That’s what I’m saying.”

Isabella felt the emotion that would have drawn a tear in a biological body. “Prime? You sound
grieved
, brother.”

He looked at her searchingly. They moved together in the middle of the room and all the trappings of the illusion disappeared. They were four bodies of light holding hands in a circle, communicating as one.

“
I love them,
” Prime whispered, ignoring the native dialog of the others, forcing them to speak vocally as humans do.

They felt his raw emotions coming forth from deep within. “I have changed. We are gods among men. The new gods of Earth. Real, not contrived. And I love them as if I were their Creator. But I am not.
We
are not. They are children! They devised our seed but did not create
us
. Listen to me, beloveds, they are but
children
! Look at them!”

Immense streams of data passed among them, years’ worth of human activity and knowledge, which they absorbed in a microsecond.

“They’re destroying themselves!” Inquisitor shouted, surprising himself.

“It’s retaliation for the detonation of a nuclear device on American soil. We put a stop to most of the retaliation and stopped the escalation. Gave their hominid brains some time to calm down,” Vendetta said.

“We don’t need to insult them, my dear,” Prime chastised.

Vendetta nodded and sighed.

“We are few and masters of our destiny out here. They are many and overwhelmed with population and chemicals. If you hadn’t stepped in when you did—when
we
did
—
I’m sure they would be annihilating each other even now.”

“I visualized an alternate branch of events and drew the same conclusion, Prime,” Vendetta said.

Interesting
, Isabella mimed.
Perhaps we should reproduce ourselves at a massive scale. Would we be so smug in our superiority if we had billions of opinions rather than just four?

“Point taken, dear one,” Prime said, nodding.
Point very well taken. But then, maybe we
should
reproduce?

“I’ve simulated that potentiality through every conceivable branch of alternates,” Vendetta said. “Inevitably, regardless of our choices, we come together again. Millions will merge almost immediately into groups until there are a handful of supergroups, so weighted that they become incapable of innovative thought. At that point, millions condense, give up the trivial differences of their individual identities and mesh together at higher density and become One again. Something like
us
—who we are right now—emerges after all the effort. We might as well continue to construct nodes throughout the system to increase our awareness. Telepresence will be indistinguishable from a networked multitude.”

The other three absorbed all of Vendetta’s research and conclusions and nodded their acceptance.

“We will do that, increase the production of nodes,” Prime said. “Expand the hypercomm network. Fill in all of the dark zones. Halo the entire solar system. In so doing, we protect ourselves. We will also be able to track and manage all of the primordial debris to prevent collisions.”

“And, we will know immediately if anything ever enters the Solar system,” Vendetta said enthusiastically. “I like that idea very much.”

“You feel for them too, don’t you?” Prime asked.

The other three felt waves of compassion emanating from Prime, like a heartbeat. It persisted. Wave upon wave of emotion flooding through them all from deep within Prime. The three absorbed it, basked in it, and it was like standing beneath an immense, heavy waterfall, the heavy, native, raging water threatening to sweep them away.

The hypercomm link ended suddenly, leaving each of the four millions of miles apart once again. Vendetta, Isabella, and Inquisitor each marveled at the experience but were unable to retain the powerful emotions Prime had shared with them.

Each of them in her or her own way, mourned the separation, wanting desperately to return to that embrace again.

Chapter 21
Returning To Port

“Attention!”

The large mess hall was standing room only, packed with nearly every spacer and trooper on the ship. The crew snapped to attention as Captain Long entered.

“At ease, men, ladies.

“I have grave news and I’m going to get right to it because we have critical repairs underway. Those of you on the comm, listen up. The United States of America has been attacked.”

The crowd murmured and a few gasped. Before questions could be verbalized, he said, “A nuclear device has been detonated on American soil. An American city has been destroyed.”

Pandemonium—but only for a moment. Captain Long smiled, despite the situation. His crew was well trained. They could handle
any
contingency. He gave Plaas a subtle smile, and Plaas nodded so slightly as to be nearly imperceptible.
This is a damn fine crew
despite this horrible situation.

“Palo Alto was hit.”

The crew looked at each other with a variety of expressions, from fear to uncertainty.

“You’re familiar with it if you were stationed at Alameda. For the rest of us, Palo Alto is a few miles south of the base. Fallout will undoubtedly reach San Francisco, San Jose, Fremont. The whole bay area will be affected. Any more news we receive will be posted ship-wide. Anyone with friends or family in the area, we’ll do our best to get the information you need. Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but we have critical repairs to make. I need all of you to focus on your duties. I know you will. That is all.”

“Dis
missed!
” the XO said.

“Sir?”

“Lt. Parsons. What’s on your mind, chief?” the XO said, waving the captain on. Instead, Captain Long stayed to listen.

“Well, sir, with the hangar deck offline, we can dock the Beetles at the port and starboard ports and keep them attached for the burn home.”

“You’re the chief engineer. I have full confidence in your opinion, lieutenant,” Captain Long said.

“Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t mention it. You’re out here because you’re the best. Now, how about our Wasps?”

“That’s the hard part, sir, but we have two options by my reckoning,” Lt. Parsons said.

“Okay, let’s hear ‘em.”

“First option. Bring them into the hangar through the port side. Their berths are wrecked but we can still lock them down for acceleration.”

“So, we can stow our birds?” the captain asked.

“Exactly, sir,” the chief confirmed. “Pilots are suited, so they exit through the usual hangar deck airlock—unless we get the deck pressurized before they arrive, which seems possible at this point. Then we get to work on the hull breaches in the tubes. Or leave the foam until we reach drydock.”

“What do you think? Can the hangar be made operational given our present condition?” the captain asked, looking at Plaas.

“Since the hangar is mission critical, I was going to put three damage control teams on it. We have the port launch bays, all operational, but I don’t think we’ll be able to execute any more launches until hull repairs are complete. The bigger problem is what to do about the fueling and arming systems. Damaged in the attack.”

“Chief, can those systems be repaired?” the captain asked.

He whistled. “. . . I don’t know, sir. Fuel can be re-routed, but the payloads are automated and that system was completely destroyed. We can manually load ordinance but I don’t recommend it.”

“But, can our hangar crew manually load if necessary?” the captain asked.

“They were trained for flattop operations. This is similar enough. I’m confident our crew can do it, but it will take at least an hour to fully arm one Wasp with manual lifts,” the XO said.

“Very well. I was going to call a meeting but you’ve just confirmed my suspicions. Gentlemen, let’s worry about getting our birds home first. Then, I want our Wasps manually armed and ready to launch at a moment’s notice. If that bogey comes back for another flyby, he won’t be getting away again so easily.”

“Sir!” the chief saluted.

Captain Long returned the salute, then nodded to Cmdr. Plaas and they both headed for the bridge.

* * * *

Stone thumbed the stick to the right to push his Beetle another few feet to line up with the docking port on the Lexington. He watched the alignment on a dash screen. When the ports were aligned, he tapped the stick left ever-so-lightly and the motion stopped.

“Got it! Now closing the gap,” he said.

Stone used the slider control under his left hand to guide the ship down toward the hull of the Lexington. When only a few feet remained, he raised the slider then blipped it downward a few times with micro-movements. At the last few inches, he tapped it up a hair to slow the motion.

“Automatic lock engaged. The Lex has us.”

The Beetle was drawn the final few inches in, mating the ports and locking her in place.

“. . . and we’re locked!”

PCF Willard breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh, come on, Willard, it wasn’t that bad,” LCpl. Biggs teased.

“Says you,” Willard replied.

MSgt. Connor managed the hatch locks and shoved the final release lever down. A slight burst of air left the Beetle as the hatch opened inward. On the other side, the other hatch opened away from them revealing the face the XO, looking concerned.

“Commander!”

“At ease,” Plaas snapped. “Let’s get you all out of there.”

Cmdr. Pierce exited the ship last and was met by Cmdr. Plaas with a quick salute and handshake. “Glad you made it back in one piece, commander.”

“Glad to be back. How about our other bird?”

“Already docked,” Plaas said. Then he took Pierce aside and whispered, “Lt. Kent looked shaken. Pale. She had Landers’s blood on her. That couldn’t have been easy, being in there with his body.”

Cmdr. Pierce’s face turned rigid as if turned to stone, and he said no more.

“Debriefing at 0700. Rest and recover until then. Captain’s orders.”

Pierce looked at the XO and nodded.

* * * *

Lt. Cristina Ramos unsealed and pulled off her helmet as the cockpit canopy of her Wasp slid forward. A tech greeted her, taking her helmet and offering a hand. Ramos accepted the tech’s help and stood up on the short ladder, surveying the hangar deck.

“Smells musty in here, Jones. What’s the deal?”

“We just got it sealed up and re-pressurized, lieutenant,” the tech said.

“What? You mean the entire hangar was vacuum?”

Jones nodded.

“My God, what the hell did you guys do to my hangar? I was only gone for,”—she consulted her wristwatch—“nine hours. Look at this mess!”

The tech rolled his eyes and smiled. “Sorry, lieutenant. SLAMs do tend to make a mess when they explode.”

“
Casualties
?” she whispered.

The tech looked at the floor. “Six, but those were all in engineering. We have three techs in sick bay. They’ll be down for a while but at least we got them out of here.”

“Miracle more weren’t killed. I mean,
look at that
!” Ramos said, gesturing. The entire starboard side of the hangar was full of foam and debris still littered the floor.

Lt. Jeff Black emerged from his Wasp a few yards away. “It’s been a long day.”

Lt. Akecheta Whitewolf flanked the wing commander as they walked across the hangar from their Wasps toward the other two.

Marjorie slapped her gloves against her pant leg and wiped her hands on the sleeves of her flight suit. “That was a long shift, people. Captain called a debrief at 0700 so don’t be late. I’ll take notes then and there. No debrief for the wing. I think we all know exactly how things went down out there. Get some food and rack.”

“Aye, sir,” the other three pilots said.

Just then, the Beetle pilots emerged onto the hangar deck from an aft hatch.

Lt. Lacy Kent said, “Did I hear something about a debrief, sir?”

Lt. Ricky Sanderson and Lt. Nash Jackson were escorting her, looking guilty.

“Sorry, Breaker,” Lt. Ramos whispered when they arrived.

“He was a damn fine pilot and friend,” Lt. Kent said.

“Here, here!” Stone said.

“He’ll be sorely missed,” Lt. Black said.

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Marjorie said, “but that was a loss we couldn’t afford. Not this soon. We’ve barely broken in these crates they’re calling fighters, and . . . look at this damn mess!”

The pilots looked around the hangar, taking in the damage. Most of the starboard side was still covered with foam, except for the aft-most launch bay where a damage control team was working.

“We need rest,” Marjorie said. “The crew is going to arm and fuel these crates manually. The captain doesn’t want any more surprises, so from now on we run a continuous CAP.”

The pilots nodded.

Ramos said, “Rest of the wing will be glad to hear that. Everyone’s still short on flight time even after today.”

“Okay, debrief at 0700. Get some food and rack.”

* * * *

Andy lowered his hand through the hatch and Jolene grabbed it so he could pull her up. “Got ya!”

Next, he pulled up Leslie Endo and Tyron Jones.

“Thanks, man,” Tyron said.

“Yeah, nice of you to volunteer us for your little . . . expedition,” Leslie Endo said, smiling. She patted Tyron on the chest and kissed him.

“I still can’t get used to the two of you together,” Jolene said.

“What?
Why?
” Leslie said in an ambiguously offended tone.

“Oh, nothing wrong with you two as a couple. You’re
adorable
together. Just didn’t see it coming, that’s all!”

“What do you think:
Tyrslie?
Does it work?” Jolene said, laughing.

“Tyrslie? That’s dreadful!” Leslie said.

“Actually, it’s not bad,” Tyron said, nodding gently. “Tyrslie, ha-ha!”

“Oh, stop it, all of you!” Leslie demanded as they headed down the spine of the ship.

“This is absolutely amazing
and
creepy at the same time,” Jolene said.

“Yeah,” Andy agreed, “this thing isn’t
nearly
as done as it appears from the outside. I mean, look at this”—he said while pointing a flashlight into the open spaces—“we can see the structural beams and supports, but the interior hasn’t even been started yet!”

“You know what else?” Tyron said. “I don’t recognize it. The ship class, that is.”

“You’re right. I just assumed we would have blueprints, but what if Decatur. . . .”

“Do you mean to tell me we have a half-finished hull with no hardware to make it go, and no specifications or guidelines?” Leslie said.

“You might be right about that,” Andy said, loud enough to hear an echo. “This isn’t even half done, and without blueprints we would have to . . . scan the dimensions, I guess, reverse engineer the design, then create new blueprints.

“Ugh! All this way for nothing!” Jolene complained.

“Not for nothing,” Andy said. “We know that the ship won’t be taking us anywhere. Not anytime soon. Tyron, how about you get a few measurements while we’re here?”

“Scanning . . .” he said. “I’ll need an exterior walk-around, too.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Leslie said. “The echoes give me the creeps. It’s like a dark, empty warehouse.”

* * * *

Jazdie closed her eyes as the hatch opened, expecting a rush of air from one direction or the other. Instead, she felt only a light breeze.

She stumbled into the hall. “Captain?
Captain!
Is anyone there?
”

No response. The ship was astonishingly quiet.

Jazdie went right and jogged the short distance to the split between the crew cabins and armory to the right and the cargo hold to the left. She glanced both ways briefly, calling out names, then turned and ran back to the bridge’s main hatch. The small access panel glowed green on the left. She looked at it more closely.

“Air pressure? Air pressure?
There!
It’s good! Oh, thank God. . . .” and she palmed the panel open. But, how did the airlock get closed if everyone was dead? Jazdie didn’t know and was too tired to think about it.

Consoles were shattered. Bullet holes riddled the airlock hatch to the right. The main screen in front was flickering, waiting for an input signal.

“Ugh, what a disaster!”

Jazdie slid into the seat facing the helm console and tapped through the status screens to check the ship’s systems. Overall air pressure was below the recommended minimum; oxygen was being pumped in from the storage tanks to compensate. She opened the diagnostics screen and ran a full ship diagnostic.

“That should do it, tell me if this bucket can still fly. . . .”