The Stars Came Back (47 page)

Allonia: This is
insane
! People will want to kill us to get it if they knew we had it, others who would want to kill us to destroy it, it’s so valuable no one can afford to buy it, but its real value is in letting everyone know what it says, and then it’s of no value to us!

Bipasha:
We don’t know for certain that’s what it is, though.

Helton shakes his head, still leafing through the book.

Allonia: What languages does everyone here speak? Anything but English?

Seraphina:
Some Spanish and Hebrew.

Bipasha: Hindi

Stenson: Math, a bit of German

Lag shakes his head.

Helton: Some Latin and Greek, and a handful of words in a dozen other languages. Computer, awake? What language analysis programming do you have?

Ship AI:(OC) My name isn’t “computer”.

Helton frowns in surprise. Others look quizzical.

Helton:
Sorry… Well?

Ship AI:
(OC) Nothing specific to this task. Basic organizational tools may be useful, if you are correct in your assumptions. I have some vague records that indicate I worked on a language problem long ago.

Helton: OK, then. We need to find out what it says, scan
it with every tool we have to establish authenticity and content. We don’t say anything to anyone until we know more. Once we’re sure it’s a real artifact,
then
we figure out what to do. It might be worth more as a hole-card than a played one.

Allonia:
As good a plan as any.

Seraphina: For once I get to be in on the conspiracy! Silence for now. I just hope more good than evil comes of it.

Stenson: As if I didn’t have enough to do.

Bipasha: More knowledge is always better. How long?

Ship AI: (OC) A few days to a few weeks if it is laid out as logically as Helton suggests, and depending on what was damaged. At least it appears we are starting from the beginning.

Helton: Well, I’ll get to
work on it, and in the meantime-

Seraphina:
Meals don’t cook themselves.

Lag:
Things are heating up at the New Medina complex, and there is a lot of intel to evaluate.

Stenson: The drives and power cores need all the new parts installed and checked-

Allonia: I have a couple of projects to work on while the good sergeants get better.

Bipasha: And we need a new
paying
cargo lined up.

Helton: Well then, let’s get to work, while more
of these pages “come to light.”

FADE TO BLACK

Privates

FADE IN

EXT - DAY - Cab of heavy wheeled military truck

Two soldiers are driving down a road on the outskirts of Adelaide,
toward the port. The morning sun casts sharp shadows, but the dust arising from the truck ahead of them in the small convoy creates haze. They are in tan camo fatigues with no armor other than helmets. Semi-auto rifles are in a gun rack in the back window. Their uniforms are dirty and unkempt, both have not shaved in a few days, one has his shirt buttons misaligned. They look rough; not evil, just lazy, sloppy, poorly disciplined.

P
VT Schumer: This war sucks.

P
VT Levin:
All
wars suck.

Schumer: This one
really sucks.

Levin: Dun
no. I think not getting blown up or shot at is kinda nice.

Schumer: I mean, we are at the absolute
ass-end of this thing.

Levin: Get
tin’ paid. Gettin’ fed. Gettin’ sleep. Seen worse.

Schumer: Yeah, but we ain’t got
any
action for six months. Can’t even get action in town!

Levin: You never get any action
anywhere
‘cause you’re ugly.
And
still barely a private after six years.

Schumer: I mean, we been reduced to getting used as a safe supply point for people picking up ammo and shit to use where things are
really
happening.

Levin: (
Grunts assent, pauses) I heard we were getting a visit from some high-price Plataean ass-kickers, so something must be up.

Schumer: Christ on a left
-handed rubber crutch. Really?

Levin: That’s the word. Supposedly the same platoon that took out that
air-defense battalion that was giving the 41st fits.

Schumer:
Platoon?! Nah, must’a been a company at least! A platoon is even less likely than the one I heard about a babe shoving some local muscle around.

Levin: Flint said it was a platoon that leveled em’, an’ the locals
do
seem a little jumpy. He’s pretty well connected, so…

Schumer: We are
so ass-end we not only gotta use civilian transport, but we get our asses bailed out by female mercs when we aren’t even fighting!

Levin: Yeah
, pretty low. I’m sure you’ll find a way to sink, though.

Schumer: Gee,
thanks.

Levin: I mean, the tech limits on weapons make for mostly pretty slow movement. Can’t use the old grav tanks or
anything in Sourkraut’s battalion unless the Kiv break the rules in a big way. Manual aiming and simple ballistics and all is a pain. A lot more ways to get stupid and killed than get brilliant and win.

Schumer: Well, maybe so, but… I guess this must be the ship.

The convoy of three vehicles pulls to a stop to one side of
Tajemnica
, darkened by the mid morning shadows cast by her hull
.
Their radio squawks.

Private3: (OC, on radio) Hey Asshole, hop out and see who’s home.

Levin: That’d be
you
.

Schumer: (
To radio) Shit-head. (To Levin) Damn civvies will likely run in terror at the first sign of trouble. Rather deal with uniforms.

They both grab their rifles and hop out of the cab
, slinging them casually over their shoulders, and saunter up to the cargo ramp. They look in, see no one, then continue around the end and get a look on the sunny side. They round the corner and stop in their tracks. Neither of them look at the other while they talk in low tones.

Schumer: On th’other hand, ain’t never seen uniforms like
that
.

Levin: Make love, not war, daddy always said. How’s my uniform look?

Schumer: Like shit.

Levin: Yours, too.

Schumer: Screw it.

Camera view slews around to show what they see.
Half way down the side near the side hatch, there are seven folding chairs reclined in the sun. On them are Allonia, Kaminski, Quiritis, Helton, Bipasha, Kaushik, and Harbin. They are in bathing suits and bandages (smaller than original, but still numerous on the three Plataeans, and Allonia’s temple still has a slight red scar), basking in the sun, looking very mellow, eyes closed or wearing sunglasses. There are pitchers of iced beverages, and glasses for each. Rifles or pistols hang or lean by each chair, apparently unnoticed by the skin-entranced soldiers.

The two privates straighten out their uniforms as they walk toward the seven, reflexively feeling their stubble and brushing their hair back.

Schumer: How would you ladies like to meet a pair of gen-u-wine war heroes?

Qui
ritis: (Politely sarcastic) Why, know any?

Levin: We were told there was a ship here to haul our classified equipment out to Raptus Regaliter.

Schumer: If you
fine
young ladies could direct us to the person in charge of this bucket, we’d be happy to regale you with the tales of our adventures!

None of the crew
moves for a moment. The privates glance at each other, used to a lot of things, but not being ignored.

Schumer: Ain’t
got
all day! Got important things to do!

Kaminski, who
is sitting half upright, glass in hand, takes a leisurely sip.

Kaminski: (
Slow drawl) Doctors orders. R&R. Sunshine. Take it easy, let things heal.

Schumer: Sorry to see you lost your bar fight, pal, but I was talking to the ladies.

Harbin: (Drill sergeant voice, not moving from his reclined position otherwise) SCHUMER! You still a private?

Schumer’s jaw drops for a seco
nd as he recognizes Harbin’s voice. He snaps to attention. His partner recognizes the tone, and sees Schumer’s reaction, and does the same, knowing they just stepped in it.

Schumer: YES, FIRST SERGEANT!

Harbin: Made second class yet?

Schumer: Three times, First Sergeant!

Kaushik: (Droll) Wonder why?

Kaminski: Classified beans ‘n bullets, eh?

Helton: (Politely) This “bucket” is very sensitive. It’s the best ship on the planet. Please talk nicely about her. You
are
talking to the owner, pilot, war goddesses and heroes recovering from combat injuries. Unlike yourselves.
And
the first sergeant’s niece… Care to start again?

Schumer: Uh, we, uh-

Harbin: Guru
save
us. PROPERLY, Private Schumer. I KNOW you were taught.

Schumer: Private Schumer, Foxtrot 23rd combined arms support base Raptus Regaliter, reporting in with a convoy of three truck
s for transport by the ship
Tajmagica
. Or something like that. This one. I think. Sir. I mean, First Sergeant. Or, uh…

Helton: Yup, you found us. I’m the captain. Only three?

Levin: The other six are supposed to be along in a little while. Sir.

Helton: Well then, I suggest you and the other drivers hit the showers and get yourself cleaned up before the Colonel shows up and the First Sergeant gets back into uniform
to take any
official
notice of your condition.
If
you pass inspection, I expect you might get lunch aboard before we lift. (Into com unit) John, got a few passengers that need to clean up. Can you show them the facilities, please? (To the two privates, still at attention) He’ll meet you at the top of the ramp. Go get your partners in crime, get ‘em squared away. You’ve got some time. Make the most of it.

The two privates about-face and walk away,
fast.

CUT TO

View of t
he two privates rounding the corner of the ship, talking quietly out of the corner of their mouths as they head over to get the other drivers.

Schumer: Holy
shit! Sergeant Reel!
And
a COLONEL. We are
so
screwed!

Levi
n: But if he’s here and injured, and the Captain said recovering from combat injuries… Then they must have been the ones that took out the ADB!

Schumer: Floggers! Even his
niece
is a bad-ass!

Levin: Well,
nice ass, anyway!

Schumer: Not
going there! Better ways to commit suicide.

Levin: But if
they took it out, maybe Flint was right, and it was only a light platoon, one with
women
in it!

Schumer: I’d always figure
d those stories about how tough Plataeans are were just stories, and Reel was just a hard-ass, but-

Levin: If
they’re heading out, then something big must be up.

Schumer: Ah, shit. This war
sucks!

CUT TO

Side of
Tajemnica
, view of the R&R crew and soldiers

Bipasha takes a sip from her glass. Kaminski flexes, gently, a bandaged leg. The sun inches up higher. Well-earned R&R, being lethargically enjoyed to its fullest, while it lasts.

FADE TO BLACK

FADE IN

INT - DAY -
Tajemnica’s
cargo bay on pad D9

Ramp down, main door open, daylight streaming in.
Seven trucks are on board, including three tankers. One cargo truck is being unloaded, and a large pile of crates sits where another was unloaded. The rest are parked, still loaded.

Bipasha watches, then walks
to soldiers stacking crates being carelessly unloaded from the back of a truck.

Bipasha: You can’t just throw things in like that! You have to stack things carefully and secure them properly so they don’t go flying around if we lose grav or crash
. And you have to tie down the trucks staying on board so they don’t roll!

Private3: Look, Super,
we’re just making a short hop to the outpost, have your Colonel say howdy to ours, drop off the rats ‘n ammo, ‘n fly back. The only way we’re losing grav is if the whole blipp’n planet loses it. And that’s only slightly less likely than finding a Planet Mover’s overdue library book.

Bipasha: Maybe
, but crashing is a real possibility.

Private3: Crashing?
More likely, but nobody survives a serious crash, so… (shrug)

Bipasha looks at him
considering a response, but instead chuckles and shakes her head.

Bipasha: I’d be happy to have the
First Sergeant check how well you followed loading instructions…

Private3: Oh, no, no, that’s OK. I’ll make sure I tie them down, tight and proper
like. Just point me to the tie-downs, ma’am!

DISSOLVE TO

EXT - DAY - High over base Raptus Regaliter

A tan expanse of boring with patches of slightly more boring scattered about, in the middle of a wide basin chock full of boring, surrounded in the distance by mesas and craggy mountains. The base is a rough circle more than a kilometer across, with a collection of dug-in artillery, wheeled and tracked combat vehicles such as tanks and APCs, tents, trucks, supply bunkers, gun pits, and many individual fighting positions. Near the center landing area is a line of sandbagged prefab storage bunkers.
Tajemnica
arrows down toward it.

CUT TO

INT
- DAY - Aft cargo ramp

Tajemnica
flies in toward the base. Quinn, Allonia, and a couple of the base soldiers stand back from the edge of partially lowered ramp, watching the expanse of plain pass below, the wind swirling around and ruffling hair. All are wearing safety harnesses and lines. A soldier points out features as they pass.

Soldier: Those are the 120mm artillery pieces. They can shoot for more than 30 kilometers
, into those hills. That’s an Armored Personnel Carrier.

Quinn: COOL! Can we look closer?

Allonia: I’m sure they’ll be busy!

Soldier: No problem! Be happy to give you the two-cent tour!

CUT TO

INT - DAY -
Tajemnica
Bridge

Helton, Quiritis, Cooper, Lag, Bipasha present

Helton: How many people at the base right now?

Ship AI: (OC, with heavy pirate accent) Thar be three hundred ‘n twenty-one o
’ th’ wretched lay-abouts in port at the moment.

Bipasha: Say again?

Ship AI: (OC, still with accent) Thirrrrty two gentlemen, n’ th’ rest are th’ normal chum-dippers and plank-walkers.

Quiritis: Why the accent,
Taj
?

Ship AI: (OC) It be th’ nineteenth o’ September, o’course.

Helton: And that means…?

Ship AI: (OC) Ne’r ye’ mind, Cap’n, ‘til
enemy sail is in cannon-shot, so we can hoist the black flag ‘n make buckets ‘o shark-bait of em.

Helton:
(Skeptical) Ooooo-kay then, three-hundred twenty-one scurvy dogs it is.

CUT TO

EXT - DAY - Ground-level view of
Tajemnica
being unloaded

She is very low on her landing struts, almost flat on the ground. A tanker truck drives slowly off the ramp. There
are still piles stacked and tied down in the cargo bay, but the trucks are all gone. A couple troops in the cargo bay are loosening tie-downs and unloading things.

CUT TO

EXT - DAY -
Near a few sand-bagged buildings

Cooper, looking dashing in his red uniform jacket,
chats up one of the few ladies in uniform on the base. She’s average looking, wearing an ordinary baggy camo uniform. They walk off together.

CUT TO

EXT - DAY - Near a 120mm gun emplacement

Quinn is being shown the gun by a soldier, while Allonia watches nearby. The soldier pushes one of the control buttons, making the barrel of the gun slowly elevate. He indicates that Quinn can push another button; as he does so the barrel slowly lowers. His eyes are wide, and he’s vibrating with excitement.

CUT TO

INT - DAY - Command bunker

Lag and some senior officers are meeting over a large table with a map spread on it. The bunker is walled in sandbags and the low roof has heavy beams. In the background are several soldiers, junior officers and NCOs.

Lag: Move, counter-move, counter-counter-move, you ended here. I understand how you
got here, Colonel Zendek. But this place has been static for way too long.
Something
isn’t right, but if your intel is correct, I can’t for the life of me figure out the last half-dozen moves and non-moves each side has made. Which means either there are complete imbeciles in charge on both sides-

Zendek
: (Dryly) More than possible.

Lag:
-or your intel is
very
wrong…

Zendek
: But
where
is it wrong?

Lag:
That’s what I’m here to try to figure out. Hopefully, eyes on the ground can clarify the situation. When your best estimate is a platoon, a company at most, and it turns out to be an entire air-defense battalion, someone isn’t doing their job.

Zendek
: I’ve heard the rumors, but that wasn’t our ops area; what can you tell us about that?

Lag: The ship out there was contracted to fly civ refugees out, got wind of air-defens
e movement. Your guys said backbench platoon, we airdropped a squad in to deal with it. Turned out to be an officer-heavy battalion that we left as a large leg infantry company led by a lieutenant. Still not sure why that size unit was there.

Major Farber
: Good God! With a
squad
? At this tech level?

Lag: There’s a reason your bosses hired us. Might have done more, but only three of the eight weren’t green recruits, and we only had a few hours to prepare.

The camp officers digest this information, several emotions playing across their faces for a few long seconds.

Zendek
: If you were in charge, based on what you
do
know, what would your orders be?

Lag: (
Thoughtfully) You have some good equipment, and a decent collection of troops, but the mix of things and position is all wrong. Either some other unit stays here with totally different hardware, or you just pick up and haul ass right now for any of a half dozen better spots.

Zendek
: Are we at
that
much risk?

Lag: Not sure what your risk is. I know your OpFor intel is wrong, just not
how
wrong, but your offensive abilities are totally wasted here. The Kiv can mostly ignore you.

Zendek
: But we have artillery! Air defense! Direct fire! Good soldiers!

Lag: Yes, you do. But you have no obvious
targets
, and wheels and tracks give you insufficient ability to get to them. You do not appear to be blocking any movement, so you pose no threat that ties up Kiv units.

Colonel Zendek
looks a little surprised, then thoughtful, then concerned, as he looks at it from a new perspective.

In the background, a soldier wearing a headset sits up and makes a quick adjustment on his set.

Radio Tech: SIR, jamming again. Broad Freq, high intensity… Gone again.

Zendek
nods acknowledgment. Lag raises an eyebrow in question.

Zendek
: Jamming bursts happen regularly. More frequently recently, but shorter duration. Not a problem, but a nuisance. Doesn’t seem to cause any problems.

He shrugs it off.

Farber: Speaking of tech, I’m assuming you’d not take a prohibited ship to a military base, but should that thing be here?

Lag: It’s unarmed, civilian registered. Feel free to have the compliance monitor check it out. It can haul some equipment and basic supplies and casualties, but not large numbers of soldiers or active weapons systems, limited eve
n then to low speed airdrop only, unless the Kiv are in major violation. Speaking of, are you using tech-level only, or dual-level with the higher electronics disabled?

Zendek
nods understanding.

Zendek
: Dual level. Powered movement only. Aiming electronics installed but certified inactive. Generals didn’t want them fully crippled, but agreed because… well, I’m not quite sure, but here we are.

Lag: Two edged sword
. If the Kiv manage to get them reactivated,
you
are in violation, and
they
can rake you over with whatever they have up their sleeves unless you can prove they did it
and
that you didn't use it.

Zendek
: I just work with what they give me. You understand.

Lag:
Indeed I do. Be careful; being on the wrong side of a level violation gets real ugly
very
fast.

They both lean in
examining the map intently.

DISSOLVE TO

INT - DAY - Cargo bay

The Compliance Monitor, a fleshy Caucasian man in his 50s, dressed sharply and looking very official, is walking through the cargo bay with Kwon. Kwon is dressed in a “ship’s uniform” that looks similar to the one Allonia made for herself.

Kwon: It’s a good ship. A few circuits short, but tough and functional.

Compliance Monitor: All I care about is that it is not in contract violation of the allowed weapons or technology.

They pause at a wall com unit. The Compliance
Monitor pushes a button.

Compliance
Monitor: (Into mic) What weapons are onboard?

Ship AI: (OC, heavy pirate accent) The lubbers scuppered me cannons decades ago, th’ rat-molesting goat-horkers! Emptied th’ magazine a’ powder, left me in dry
-dock fer scrap metal! Left me wi’ nut’n bu a jammed harpoon tosser done froze ov’r ‘n a busted Roman candle. Jus’ load me upagain, ‘n turn me loose!

Kwon:
(Apologetically) Like I said, a few circuits short.

Compliance
Monitor: (Surprised)
What
did the AI just say?

Kwon: That we don’t have any weapons. I think. Wish we did when folks were shoot
ing at us a couple of weeks ago, would have made life a lot easier. It’s a decommissioned warship, armored but unarmed.

Compliance
Monitor: Yes, I heard about that.
Dangerously
close to a violation.

Kwon: But
not
across the line.

Compliance
Monitor: (Into mic) Confirm there are no weapons on board.

Ship AI: (OC) O’COURSE there be weapons aboard, yu’ grog-guzzling guppy! A peck o’ pistols, racks o’ rifles, enough blades to fillet a whale, many a’ sharp wit and even sharper tongues, n’ I hear Mr
. Kwon’s Tortuga sauce wi’ scorch yer arse-hairs the next day.

Compliance
Monitor: Most irregular. (Into mic) I
mean
, any weapons that are not personal arms?

Ship AI: (OC, sounding comically sad and pathetic) A’side from the Cajun chili his missus makes, sadly, ah-no, nut’n
bu’ personal arms. Ah’ been askin’ fer sum sumin’ fierce, but they leave me adrift t’ run aground, raggedy ol’ canvas flappin’ in d’ win’. Left me w’ nut’n’ but sharp elbows, a hard head, n’ a muddled mind.

Kwon lifts his shoulders
, spreads his hands and frowns is fatalistic acceptance of AI strangeness.

Kwon: The AI personality software is a tad flaky, needs some serious work-

Ship AI: (OC) I heard that, y’ puddle-padlin’ polliwog!