Indigo Squad (15 page)

She screwed her face. If she’d taken that impact, it might have snapped her spine.

Then she remembered what he’d said.

“Ship-rat,” she hissed. “What do you mean
only a ship-rat
?”

“Shut up!” ordered the guard.

“You’re a ship’s detachment Marine,” McEwan told him. “I can tell by your suit insignia.”

“Well done,” sneered the guard. “Give the boy a prize. You win thirty seconds. That’s how long you’ve got before I shoot you.”

“What I mean,” said Arun hastily, “is that you must recognize Indiya, and appreciate the bond between the reserve captain and these… augments. This rat-girl thinks there’s a plot to kill the augments. Come on, you know many of the other ship-rats think they’re freaks. They hate her sort. But the reserve captain regards them as her greatest experiments. What would the reserve captain do to you if you were to blame for losing her precious freaks?”

“Countdown’s already started, dongwit. Better hurry.”

“Can’t we talk to the officer from here?” McEwan asked. Indiya thought he was trying to be polite, but a jagged edge came to his word.

“No one allowed in. The reserve captain is out of communication.”

“Why?” asked McEwan. “Is she in danger?”

“Not as much as you. Twelve seconds left.” As he leveled his gun at Arun, Indiya heard a faint whine as the gun charged, ready to fire.

She bunched her legs and pushed away from McEwan, aiming at the guard. “Please!” she wailed in her best little girl voice. “I need to see the reserve captain.”

Her fate was in the guard’s hands. Was it Lance Corporal Katschinski or Marine Quail? If only she could see a face. She used to get on well with the Marines in the ship’s detachment, all the specials did. But during their last time at Tranquility, most of
Beowulf
’s detachment of Marines had been replaced by strangers.

Whoever he was, he clearly thought Arun the greater threat. Idiot!

He kept his gun leveled on Arun until the very last moment, when with a growl from his suit motors, he turned and used it to swipe Indiya aside.

But he’d left it too late. She ripped off one glove and grabbed the arm of his suit, rubbing her naked palm against him. She screamed in a panic that was only partially pretense. Then she let her grip slip and allowed the guard’s swipe to propel her against the bulkhead.

By then the guard had already trained his weapon on McEwan. “Six seconds left. I’ll arrest the girl but you… you… I don’t care about you… you… shoot you dead - d - d -
dedddd
.”

Augments all had tricks up their sleeves – or hidden under their gloves.

She flinched as the guard jerked and thrashed, his helmet speaker emitting a mix of mechanical noises and snatches of human speech. The sounds ground together until they lost all definition, leaving nothing more than white noise.

Eventually the thrashing stopped. Locked in a hideous contortion, the guard spilled away down the passageway, bouncing off the bulkheads on his way.

“Is he dead?” whispered McEwan. For a cyborg war machine, his voice sounded very unsteady.

Indiya looked into his pale face and was relieved not to see anger there.

“The suit is,” she replied. “Its wearer is stunned.”

She bit her lip but he bought her lie. The Marine’s body was probably still alive but the truth was that she’d sent a killer nano-package to strike at the intimate brain-AI link. She’d fried the AI and the feedback would have pulped the mind of the linked human.

“You’ve made your point quite eloquently.” The reserve captain’s voice came from the hatch speaker. She sounded tired. “I can see you feel what you have to say to me is important. Pray that I regard this matter the same way. You’d better come in. Both of you.”

The hatch irised open into a dark ante chamber.

Indiya glanced at Arun before they both pushed inside.

Arun did not consider himself to be a coward, but to arrive uninvited at a senior Jotun’s cabin packed him full of ice-cold fear from the pit of the stomach to the back of his throat. He felt the scabs on his shoulders where a Jotun who was on his side had nonetheless carved his claws into human flesh.

When Arun saw the reserve captain, though, he had to keep from laughing. He had never seen such a wheezing wreck of a Jotun. Hunched over in her hover chair, not only did the folds of this alien’s ample belly show through her white pelt, but patches of pallid skin showed too where her fur had thinned.

The Jotun’s voice was little more than a dull whisper, but as she’d beckoned in Arun and Indiya, the Jotun had spoken the human language in her own voice – not via a synthesizer – and sounded more comfortable doing so than any other Jotun Arun had heard before.

Now the old officer stared at Arun, squeezing her rheumy eyes to focus on him as he stood at attention on a charged section of deck. Arun was trying to make sense of the filmy, white bubble that dominated the rear of the cabin. He decided it was a bespoke thrust station, designed to accommodate and protect the reserve captain, and her chair, when the main engine was operating.

“Who,” rasped the ship’s officer, “the fuck is he?”

From the corner of his eye, Arun saw Indiya blanch at her officer’s language. Amusement tickled him – but he forced back his temptation to laugh. She was a strange girl, this Indiya, but he’d like to understand her better.

“Well? Answer, Indiya.”

“Sorry, sir. He is a passenger who has been helping me with an investigation.”

“The black box recorder?”

She drew a deep breath. “No, sir. A suspected mutiny.”

The reserve captain lifted herself a little from her seat. The frightening physical power of these aliens was evident for just long enough to send a shot of adrenaline coursing through Arun.

But the Jotun was long past her prime, and the effort reduced her to coughing.

Both humans waited patiently for the officer to compose herself.

“Explain!” she ordered.

Indiya did so. She explained how the Marines had been drugged, and her uncle murdered. She passed on the recording Arun had made of Purify’s autopsy, and the evidence that Marine-issue microdarts had killed him. She ended with Arun’s footage of Lieutenant Balor’s and Ensign Geror’s fresh corpses, the two officers who had been shot in the back on
Bonaventure
.
Murdered.

They waited as the old Jotun ground her jaws while she considered the evidence.

The reserve captain cleared her throat noisily. “The implication of your statements is that senior ship’s officers are involved. I can’t believe that of the captain. She has the ambition–” the Jotun wiggled her ears– “but altogether lacks the initiative to plan an insurrection.”

The Jotun paused to clear phlegm from her throat. “Have I ever told you,” she asked Indiya, “that your captain served under me, years ago, as a junior logistics officer? She didn’t impress me in the slightest, and my reports reflected that. And yet 130 years later, here she is as my commanding officer. Such is the Navy’s wisdom.”

Arun glanced across at Indiya. Judging by her exasperated look, this wasn’t the first time she’d heard this tale.

“You are fortunate that you came to me,” said the Jotun.

Arun felt energized, warmth fueling his muscles. It had been a long while since he had last felt confidence.

“Anyone else would have had you executed,” said the Jotun.

The reserve captain pointed a mid–limb at Arun. “War is chaotic. Ugly. Uncontrollable. Good officers die without any sense to their passing. Trying to assign blame is an understandable human failing, but not credible as evidence.”

He pointed at Indiya. “Likewise with your uncle’s death. I was very fond of him, as you know. His passing saddened me tremendously. The word to describe your state is
denial
. This is your human coping reaction to news you are not yet ready to accept. Your mind is in a state of cognitive dissonance. This rules you out as a credible witness.”

Arun glared at this alien who had crushed their hopes with a few breathless words.

The officer positioned her chair in front of Arun. Jotuns couldn’t read human facial expressions, but Arun felt the reserve captain could see the disrespect in his face and, in her alien way, glared right back.

“As for your ludicrous attempts at forensic autopsy,” the alien told Arun, “I can only assume that your ridiculous performance was contrived to induce my Indiya to extend you the great privilege of her mating rights.”

“Sir, I understand you don’t believe me,” pleaded Indiya. “But if there are more deaths, will you please –”

“No!” Spat the old Jotun in a burst of phlegm. “I will not indulge you. I forbid you to speak again on this matter. To anyone. That will be all.”

The reserve captain turned her chair around, presenting her back.

Indiya came to attention. Arun saluted. They both left.

The ship girl had gambled and lost.

Now it was down to Arun.

As soon as the hatch irised shut with a smooth swish, Arun rounded on Indiya.

“We should have gone to my brother from the start. He’s our only way to recruit Marines. And winning them over is our only chance now.”

Indiya shushed him. She twisted her eyebrows into a knowing look. “Heidi’s doing a wonderful job of playing our human game, but let’s not frighten her by saying things we don’t really mean.”

Arun calmed down – enough to pause for a couple of beats. “Yes, I’m sorry, Heidi.” If the security AI was listening, she gave no sign, but Indiya talked as if Heidi were there, and she knew far more about how the ship worked. “It’s just a game,” he said speaking to the bulkhead. “We’ve even gotten Reserve Captain… the
reserve captain
involved now. How good is that?” He turned back to Indiya. “What is the reserve captain’s name, Indiya?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. She’s just the reserve captain.”

“Well then, Heidi, now we’ve gotten the reserve captain involved, I’ll ask my brother whether he can bring all the Marines into one place. That way we can ask them to join our side in the game. Isn’t that exciting?”

A fist jabbed into his side. “Don’t push it,” Indiya hissed. “I’ll come with you,” she said in a louder voice.

“No. You’re our reserve. Our secret weapon. Stay with your special friends in the lab. I’m sure Heidi will let you know how the game’s progressing. Join us later – you’ll know when the time is right.”

Indiya lurched toward Arun. He nearly pushed her away, thinking she was going to hit him again, but instead she reached up to grasp his neck. She searched his eyes with hers. “Be careful,” she said, her voice warm with emotion.

Arun kissed her.

He’d only meant it as a token. A dramatic gesture because that seemed to be what she wanted.

She closed her eyes dreamily.

“I’ll be back for more of the same,” he said.

She nodded, her eyes still closed.

Arun took a long, last look at her soft, dimpled face, recording the image in his memory back up, before speeding off, though not yet to find his brother. He judged that the situation was even worse than he’d let on to Indiya. He had to recruit Indigo Squad directly and without delay. The reserve captain had given him one piece of useful intelligence. The ship’s captain wasn’t a plotter. At least the old Jotun didn’t think so, and she knew more about other Jotuns than Arun. That meant Captain Flayer was both a target and a potential ally.

On his way, he decided he should by rights feel a hero for having given Indiya hope. If Springer had seen that exchange, she would be jealous, but should be proud of him too.

Passing through the hatch at Deck 12, Frame 4, he started to wonder how much of an act that romantic clinch had really been.

The situation was going from drent to drenter, and he didn’t think he’d ever get the chance to collect but… to his surprise, he found the prospect of kissing Indiya again gave him something precious worth fighting for.

Which was just as well.

Because fighting was inevitable now.

“Why weren’t you here?” asked Sergeant Gupta. The veteran who used to put a rod of fear up Arun’s spine pulled at his ears and looked away, momentarily confused. “I mean, it’s bad. You should always be here when we’re on patrol.”

“Sergeant, the officer asked me to perform a task for him.”

“Oh?” Gupta looked away, probably trying to remember who his officer was. “I guess that’s all right then, McEwan.”

When he realized Gupta hadn’t meant his words sarcastically, Arun relaxed a little.

“Instructions from the officer, sergeant. He says to activate Local Battle Net so that I can pass his message securely.”

Arun had gambled that he would need his suit for protection, speed, and secure comms even though he’d used up nearly half an hour getting into his battlesuit. Whether the delay would prove a fatal error, only time would tell. The first advantage the suit offered was LBNet: a tight-beam suit-to-suit distributed comm network that couldn’t easily be jammed or intercepted.

Gupta peered at Arun. He didn’t look convinced about Arun’s story. Arun could imagine the sergeant’s questions:
Why hadn’t Arun named an officer? Why the need for secrecy?
But the instinct to obey was too strong. “Squad,” ordered the sergeant, “put your helmets back on and activate LBNet.”

Good. Gupta had bought that one. Would he let Arun push him even further?

“Listen up, Marines,” said Arun once LBNet had established. “I am here on the authority of our superior.”

“Who, Arun?” asked Springer.

“Quiet! When an officer commands, you obey without question.” A true officer or NCO would make his visor transparent and glare at Springer, but Arun felt bad enough shouting at her. “I am not an officer but when I transmit an officer’s orders, the officer’s authority is conveyed onto me. So shut the frakk up, all of you, and obey my instructions.”

Indigo Squad snapped to attention and saluted Arun.

“Yes, sir.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Yes, Marine.”

The acknowledgments the Marines of Indigo Squad gave him were varied, but were offered without question. Arun’s mouth formed an ‘o’. His eyes popped. He had no idea they’d react so obediently. He could order them into battle and he didn’t think they would bat an eyelid. Within a few hours, he would be putting that to the test.