Edge of Solace (A Star Too Far) (25 page)

“Your worlds,” she sneered. “Are we ‘yours’? What right do you have? You and your covenant, nothing but a snare for fools.” She sat up slightly and rolled onto her side. “Your fleets, send as many as you want, they’ll find nothing.”

“Your barrier, eh? We’ll go around it.”

“It’ll be a line in the stars. It will take you months, maybe even years
, to cross.
If!
If they can cross at all. Major, your fleets will be useless, you lack the technology to penetrate that barrier,” Asa said in a triumphant tone. Her eyes burned with fury. Her arms shook her entire body. She was buoyed with rage.

“Who did you buy it from? Gracelle? Meet someone new? You’re just scavengers
.”

His mind raced as he took it in. How could anyone isolate space, create a barrier? It seemed preposterous. But still, she had a point. Why would they risk an attack unless they could change the paradigm.

She lowered herself down slowly until only her head was turned. Hard eyes shook as the anger, the inability to do anything, crept into her. The moment passed and she was silent once more.

A strange look came upon her. A knowing look. Her eyes softened and looked sad once again as she rested herself onto the pillow. “You walked me into that
, didn’t you Major?”

“Yes, you’ve got a temper.”

“You could have asked.”

“And you would have lied.”

Archie stood slowly and walked to the door. He turned before opening it. “What’s in the case? The one with the strange writing.”

Asa’s head snapped to the side and her lips thinned out.

He had as much answer as he needed. The door opened and he walked out.

*

William and Martinez walked in silence from the dim professionalism of the bridge toward the hold.

Captain Martinez stopped and blinked.

“Captain?” William asked. He came to Martinez’s side and looked at him.

A look of relief spread across Martinez’s face.

“Captain, I could take command of the
Malta.
You could take the
Scylla
back,” Martinez said quickly as if excited and ashamed all at once.

“No sir,” William said simply. “If what the Major said is true
, we might have a chance to disrupt something here. The
Scylla
needs to get the device out.”

Captain Martinez stood with his chin thrust out and clasped his hands behind his back. The same look of pride bordering on arrogance replaced the excitement he had worn. “Very well
, Captain.”

“There’s the matter of our ‘escort’ that may decide things,” William said. The Sa’Ami ship had stayed just far enough away to be a worry
, but not close enough to be a problem.

“Once we get into the system
, we can deal with him,” Captain Martinez said.

After arriving at the bulkhead, they broke off into their own
directions.

William
found Corpsman Castro standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Captain,” Castro said. “May I have a word?”

“Of course, speak.”

Castro’s eyes slid over to the
Marines next to them. “In private if we may, sir, it’s a medical matter.”

William beckoned the way he came from. “To my office
, then?”

“That’d be fine
, sir.”

The pair walked through the passage slowly. Castro spoke of the recent upset in the Army-Marine competitions. The Army had, contrary to the betting, taken a lead in the simulated combat. William kept his opinion silent, the soldiers weren’t the same soldiers as they were before the drop.

William liked the corpsman. Castro was a medical student on a colony before dropping out once nanite medicine spread. A respected trade became little more than a technical role, except for the most brilliant. But as a corpsman, he was exceptional.

He tried to listen to Castro, he nodded and smiled
, commented on the Marines’ dissatisfaction. But he couldn’t stop digesting what the Major had come back with. It almost seemed preposterous. A barrier. He didn’t think it was possible, but both Huron and Reed, couldn’t disprove it. Though both were quick to point out they weren’t astrophysicists.

William entered and cleared away the tablets he had left on the table. Star charts were dotted with simulations. “Have a seat
, Mr. Castro.”

Castro sat and turned himself sideways
, relaxing against the back wall. He shrugged his shoulders high and settled in.

William wanted to smile. He hadn’t known the relationship Castro had with previous Captains but his demeanor seemed to be free from rank. William decided he didn’t mind, as long as Castro didn’t start referring to him as ‘Willy’ or ‘Bill’.

“I’ve, uh, found a few anomalies with the Major,” Castro said slowly. He placed each word carefully as if weighing the proper balance.

“Go on,” William said.

Castro leaned on the wall a bit and continued. He raised a hand, tapping on his fingers. “Beyond the dehydration, broken bones, and rib fractures, we ran a full screen. Transfer Station has some pretty strict quarantine requirements. So he uh, well, skipped quarantine.”

William licked his lips and felt his face grow warm.
Sickness, the one great fear of every Captain. “What does he have?” he asked quickly.

Castro stammered a second. “Nothing! Well, nothing we know is harmful.”

“Corpsman, get to the point please.”

Castro nodded quickly and leaned forward. “So we’ve got our natural nanites, the stuff we pick up from all over the place. Not to mention the Naval inoculations. He just has a rather, hmm, well, robust variety.”

“Harmful?”

Castro sucked in air. “I’m not sure
, Captain. It might just be something he picked up living with Sa’Ami. Who knows what sort of wild nanites they could have roaming about.”

“But it’s not harmful?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

Castro shrugged. “Well, not for sure.”

“So he has some nanites in him
—unidentified nanites—and we don’t know what they do? And we’re not sure if they’re harmful?”

Castro nodded. “About that.”

“Worst case?”

“Nanite weapon.”

William furrowed his brow. “As I understand it, they didn’t know we were coming, and prior to that had every intention of releasing him as a biographer or some such nonsense.”

“Just an observation
, Captain.” Castro slid himself back up against the wall.

William brought his fingers to his temples and rubbed. “Thank you
, Mr. Castro. Keep an eye on it, the Major has been through enough, I don’t want to subject him to anything unwarranted.”

“You got it
, Captain.”

William smiled lightly and glanced to the door. The moments stretched on before Castro slid aside from his seat and walked to the door.

“Thank you, sir,” Castro said. His demeanor changed back to gruff professionalism and he stepped out.

*

The routine shifted. The initial adrenaline gave way to a slow drip of tension. Every screen in the
Malta
showed a window to the following Sa’Ami ship. Laughter was nervous, stilted, quick.

A dropped tool, slammed door, or loud noise would send people into sealed bulkheads. They were tense. Word had traveled about an unknown destination. At every blink point they went to full battle stations. Grav shields were
online and weapons primed. The shift brought that first moment of excitement that passed into heightened boredom. The space in between was empty.

Eyes watched the display as they waited for the Sa’Ami ship to come in. It came, as always, and resumed the pace.

A camera drone snuck the first glances. They had deposited the reconnaissance package immediately after a blink and waited. If they were lucky, it would blink close and they would get a perfect look. The blink would vary, just slightly, even with the same vector.

They were lucky enough that it caught a brief snapshot but unlucky that it wasn’t close enough to gain much more detail. The crew po
ured over the handful of images greedily. It was something new. The ship had the same look as if it was grown, slabbed together, and birthed into space. It still looked too small.

The consensus was it had no crew. A hunter-killer, waiting for the proper moment. Only a single railgun fired on the camera drone. The slender barrel peeled away from the rusty brown of the hull and blapped a trio of rounds.

The three ships plied the silent void and edged closer to the growing binary stars. The stars winked and danced as one passed the other. As they grew closer they seemed to be more like a lighthouse warning of a dangerous shore than a beacon of safety.

*

Yamaguchi grasped the edge of a bulkhead and steadied himself. The walk took a toll. He snuck a glance at Mullins, who was looking down the hall.

“How’s it look?”

“Hmm. Better, but a good deal of repair still being done,” Mullins said. His fingers scanned the screen.

Inside
, Yamaguchi nanites swarmed and sought out breaks, tears, fissures and failures. But with each repair came heat. If he thought it would help, Yamaguchi would sleep in a bath of ice. But the thought brought back memories of his time outside.

After the crate had smashed into him he had enough reserve power left to lock one arm onto the umbilical and the other to the crate.

The impact was immense, the seals barely held. The heat wicked away and the cold seeped in. Deep, dry, piercing cold.

As much as he raged against the suit he could not move. It had become a coffin. He knew it might get cut loose at any moment. The thought terrified him, to be floating forever in the void.

“After you, LT,” Mullins said.

Yamaguchi gritted his teeth and continued. The warmth in his legs spread slowly like he was sitting on the hot sand. Tingles danced up and down
. He wanted to itch, jam his fingers tight and howl in joy. Instead he snuck a glance at Mullins and stood a bit straighter.

They came to the part of the cargo
hold where the soldiers were setup. Suits were prostrated with men all about. Behind them a naval additive cell hummed and sang with every layer.

A Private saw him and fell off the side of a battered suit of power armor. “Platoon
, attention!”

Yamaguchi cringed.

Around him men and women slid down and stood straight. Eyes locked forward with shoulders straight.

“Get back to fucking work,” Yamaguchi said. “And someone find me a damn chair.”

Smiles broke out among those who knew him. Yamaguchi sat down in a provided seat and scowled. A quick wink to the veterans let them all know where he stood.

Sergeant Hoffman walked up and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Sergeant, are we on track?” Yamaguchi asked. He scanned the suits and saw progress, but not as much as he’d like.

“As well as can be
, LT. We took a beating. We’re going to have, at best, a dozen suits.”

“Mine?” Yamaguchi asked.

Hoffman nodded slowly.

Yamaguchi saw the look, questioning. “I’ll be fine
, Sergeant. A few more days.”

Mullins cleared his throat behind Yamaguchi.

“Hey now!” Yamaguchi said. He spun slowly and wagged a finger at Mullins.

“Sir, a few days
, if you heal up faster than normal.”

Yamaguchi snorted and turned back to Sergeant Hoffman. “As you were
, Sergeant. I’m going to relax here for a few.”

The additive cell stopped the incessant hum. A panel slid open and a strut exited the machine. The strut drifted a puff of steam as it met the cool air. Sergeant Hoffman walked over and kicked the strut aside.

“Eh? Where’d you go?” Hoffman bellowed. He turned his head around the side of the additive cell and unleashed a stream of obscenities.

A
sailor, with hair that said he’d been sleeping, leapt to the front and began loading the next program. Sergeant Hoffman never stopped berating the man until the machine hummed again.

Suits that once held friends were now being cannibalized for spare parts. He recognized a flame red patch on the shoulder of one. Some suits were fresh, some still stained a dull yellow from the action on Canaan.

At least the suits are working better, he thought. Hated the damn things. Hated. Like a sluggish fucking toe frozen into molasses.

Now he saw it as something that was closer to being perfect. It still wasn’t an extension of his limbs
, but it was damn close. A brief puff of fear rode his spine when he thought of suiting up once more.