Parker's Folly (46 page)

“What?” exclaimed JT, his head snapping around to stare at the Lieutenant.

Bear raised his muzzle and made a low mournful call that was even heard by those on the bridge. His squad was out of communication range when the Chief was sent with reinforcements to help mine the alien fuel dump. Returning, he and JT didn't notice that Susan was missing because they didn't know she had ever left the ship.

“We could not disable the force screen with the weapons we had at hand and an attempt to use the demolition charges was deemed too likely to detonate the antimatter. We were out of communication with the ship and taking fire from a growing number of alien creatures. We left Susan behind with a manual detonator. It was my decision, Sir.” Gretchen was once again staring at the point above the Captain's head, trying to keep her emotions in check.

“Miss Write understood how to operate the detonator?”

“Yes, Sir. I instructed her on its use before we departed. She was going to wait for the timer, if she could, to give the rest of us time to reach the ship and the ship time to get away from the station. She was both calm and lucid, Sir. She knew she should only use the detonator if the aliens returned to the egg room and could possibly act to prevent the station's destruction.”

“So, Lieutenant, when the station exploded four minutes ahead of schedule, that was presumably Miss Write being forced to set off the demolition charges?”

“Yes, Sir. The aliens must have made her go early.”

JT shut his eyes and cast his head back, face to the ceiling.
Oh Miss Susan! You didn't have to do that, you didn't have to die for us.

“I see,” the Captain said, again looking down at his desk display and making an annotation. “And you are certain there was no way to extract Miss Write from the repository?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied without hesitation, “flechettes didn't work, grenades didn't work, and using a demo charge would probably have killed her—maybe us and the ship as well.” Gretchen's voiced cracked with emotion, “Sir, I would have gladly exchanged places with her if I could have.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” The Captain looked up and continued in a much softer voice. “You made the right call, Gretchen. If there is someone to blame for her death it is me, I sent her into harm's way.”

“But Susan was a civilian,” JT said, anguish in his voice, “how could you send her into that place?”

Jacks eyes hardened. “I'm afraid that the four expedition members who died on that station today, including Susan, are just the first casualties in a war the likes of which humanity has never seen. It is essential that this ship and the information it contains return to Earth, because if Earth doesn't begin preparing for what's next there may be no humans at all. To head off the probe and return home, I used and will continue to use all the resources at my command, Mr. Taylor.”

And what I'm not going to tell you is that I would have left the entire boarding party behind to ensure the mission is completed.
The Captain looked at each of his officers in turn, then asked, “anything else?” Receiving no reply he added, “dismissed.”

The two humans departed first, leaving Bear alone in the cabin with Jack. “You know, maybe the polar bear way is better after all,” he rumbled. “If you're solitary, alone with no one to care about, you never have to feel this kind of pain.”

“I'm sorry, my friend,” Jack said to his Master-at-Arms. “That is the price we pay for being more than just animals.”

As Bear left the cabin and ambled aft, the ship's PA sounded. “Mr. Vincent, report to the Captain in his sea cabin. Repeat, Mr. Vincent report to the Captain's sea cabin.”

The trip back to the alter-space entry point was going to take almost four days, even taking advantage of a gravitational slingshot around Beta Comae itself. Recognizing the strain the ship's complement was under, the Captain ordered the main lounge open to all during the evening watch.

Aside from the prospect of drink and conversation, the lounge offered a new attraction. The trajectory they were following would bring the Folly close to the system's star, close enough to see the flares and eruptions on its surface. To give the best view, and to prevent blindness, the large oval viewport was darkened and the ship oriented appropriately. But even the awesome countenance of a star was not enough to distract most from somber thoughts of recent events.

People were scattered in small clusters about the lounge, engaged in quiet conversation. Freddy Adams was huddled with Betty White at one table, their heads close together. A mixed group of crew and Marines gathered around the big table in the center, talking in hushed tones. In the far corner the Chief and the Gunny were drinking shots and beers, empty beer bottles collecting on the table showed they had been at it for a while.

At their usual table, Gretchen and Ludmilla sat nursing drinks half diluted by melted ice. Susan's empty chair a mute reminder of her loss. Knowing full well that dwelling on dark thoughts was not healthy, Gretchen forced herself to speak. “So, how is Jack handling the strain?”

Ludmilla sighed. “In the evening I can distract him for a time, but in the morning the worries soon return. I have seen other officers after they lost people to enemy action—it takes time for the pain, the guilt, to wear off. At least Lt. Merryweather has regained consciousness.”

“He shouldn't feel guilty. All the casualties were the result of bad luck—it wasn't like he ordered us to charge a machine gun nest or anything. Hell, everybody killed was in my squad.” Gretchen took a gulp of her watery drink and frowned.

Ludmilla shook her head. “You must not blame yourself, Gretchen. Anymore than Jack should. Just being in space is a risky business, war even more so. And even I didn't know that Ivan was a reactionary—one of those idiots who long for the return of the old USSR and communism. Besides, I do not think that Jack regrets killing Ivan, it is the deaths among the crew that cause him pain.” She tossed back the rest of her drink and added with Russian fatalism, “Jack is strong and resilient—he will probably return to normal over time.”

Across the lounge, Billy Ray walked up to the bar alone. Standing with his head hung down, he didn't look up when he ordered a drink from Jolene. Susan's death had hit him hard. The normally outgoing cowboy had been totally withdrawn since emerging from the Captain's sea cabin yesterday. A walking zombie, he shuffled between his cabin and the bridge to stand watch and back again. This was the first time he had ventured outside his quarters socially since receiving the news of Susan's death.

Gretchen looked at the suffering helmsman and came to a decision. “Excuse me for a minute, I have to speak with Billy Ray.” Ludmilla raised her glass, signaling her acceptance and then watched her friend cross the lounge and approach the tall figure slouched over the bar.

Walking up to Billy Ray, Gretchen sat her empty drink glass on the bar and spoke. “I would like to talk with you for a minute, if I may.”

“Sure, Lieutenant.” He didn't look up from staring at the beer clenched in his hands on the bar.

He is really devastated,
Gretchen thought.
I hope this does more good than harm.
“Susan was under my command when
she got trapped behind the force screen, so if you want to blame someone blame me.” Getting no response, she continued, “I was the last person to talk to her, there on the station. I want you to know that she was as brave as any man or woman I have ever served with.”

“Brave or coward, dead is still dead.”

God, he is in worse shape than I thought
. “Susan was dealt a shitty hand, but she did not fall apart and did not wallow in self pity. As soon as it was clear that she would not be leaving the
station alive she stood tall and asked me how to use the manual detonator, in case the aliens returned and tried to disarm the explosives.”

No answer.

“That was something we had not thought of, but she did. And we know that the station went four minutes earlier than the timer. That means she set off the antimatter herself.”

“So what?”

“It means she died a hero, that's so what you insensitive clod. She faced death alone, trapped on that damn space station and spit in the aliens' faces. You might want to stop wallowing in self pity and honor her memory by getting on with the life she died to save.”

Billy Ray looked up with hollow empty eyes. “Is that it?”

Gretchen sighed, picking up her drink, which Jolene had quietly refilled. “Yes, Billy Ray. That's it.”  She started to go back to the table—then paused.
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Oh, one last thing. The last words Susan said to me were
‘
tell Billy Ray I love him.
’ I just thought you might want to know.”

“She really said that?”

“Yeah, she did.” Gretchen walked back to the table where Ludmilla was waiting.
Susan may not have got all the words out but that was what she was going to say before the aliens
chased us away from the egg room. No harm in telling him what she meant to say, because she obviously did love him.

“What was that all about?” Ludmilla asked.

“Damage control. Besides, they say confession is good for the soul.” Gretchen placed her drink on the table and sat down. “So, tell me how you're doing...”

The port side of the mid-deck was filled by various laboratories, test and fabrication facilities, all belonging to the expedition’s scientists. Doctors Saito and Gupta had been sequestered in the lab since the ship's narrow escape from the space station and the subsequent showdown in the cargo hold. The object of their investigation was their recent adversaries' technology, as embodied in the space station and the hostile alien creatures themselves.

In between watches, JT assisted the other two scientists and was keeping the Captain informed about their findings. Two days after their hasty departure from the space mushroom, JT suggested the Captain visit the lab and hear firsthand the thoughts of the science staff. After the emotionally taxing events of the past several days, Jack was more than willing to spend some time away from the bridge.

He found the three scientists sitting around a small table in the materials lab, drinking tea. Tea had become the standard beverage in the science section, much to JT's displeasure. He would have preferred coffee but was out numbered by his new colleagues. At least he could drink coffee when on the bridge, where java was the stimulant
du jour
.

“Ah, Captain. Good of you to come,” said Rajiv. The gregarious physicist had been noticeably absent during the events on the station. As it turns out, he and Freddy Adams had been using the ship's remote sensing equipment and other instruments from the labs to probe the inner workings of the station itself. They had even gone so far as to lower a Hall effect quantum sensor array onto the docking bay's surface. “Though I must say that we have not completed our analysis of the alien technology, we have arrived at some general, preliminary observations. Isn't that so, Yuki?”

“Yes, Rajiv. We have been looking at the readings taken during the boarding party expedition—remote sensing data, high-speed video of the combat near the ship, samples of damaged armor, etc.—and have some findings related to our opponent's military technology. I would like to add that JT's practical experience helped greatly in our evaluation.”

JT nodded, grimacing after another sip of lukewarm tea. The Captain scanned the faces of the science staff, who appeared to harbor an almost childlike excitement, as though eager to impress a parent. “Very well, gentleman. I am anxious to  hear your conclusions.”

“Well, first off, analysis of the gravity generators beneath the docking bay reveals a very primitive and inefficient system. This is probably why they only switched it on after we had entered the structure,” Rajiv began.

“That is correct, Captain,” Yuki said, picking up the thread. “Dr. Gupta's analysis fits in with our earlier observation of the probe ship's drive and the antimatter signature from the station itself. Both gave off significant amounts of spurious radiation—an indication of inefficient conversion.”

“Yes, yes! And the plasma cannon they employ are also quite inefficient, the plasma bolts rapidly loosing coherence and dissipating,” finished Rajiv.

“They seemed to be sufficiently coherent to kill two expedition members,” Jack countered. He suppressed a shudder as memory recalled images of Cpl. Sizemore's and Tommy Wendover's corpses.

“We are not saying that those plasma shooters aren't dangerous, Captain. Just that they are not very efficient ways of delivering energy to a target,” said JT, speaking as the group's combat expert. “Wendover was killed because he was wearing a standard suit, which we knew was vulnerable to plasma fire. In fact, it's a good thing the entire expedition wasn't wearing them.”

Rajiv, who's knowledge of material science had directly led to the creation of the expedition’s armored spacesuits, backed up JT's assertion. “That is most certainly the case. We examined the armored suits of the other boarding party participants and they all bore signs of plasma strikes which would probably have been fatal to someone in a standard suit. The armored bands on Lt. Bear's suit were actually fused together in some spots.”

“Cpl. Sizemore was killed by one of those crab-things, despite wearing armor,” Jack observed. As painful as discussing their losses was, this was at least a way to learn from the encounter—perhaps a way to make his people safer in the future.

“That strike was a bit of an anomaly, Captain,” Yuki answered. “The crab-things mount significantly larger plasma cannon than the spiders or flying units. That and the crab fired on the Corporal at point-blank range, striking his suit's helmet, which is less resistive than other portions of the armor.”