In Perpetuity Read online

  Zenobia hit the thrusters and her fighter skiff shot past the entire group and out into the wide open vacuum of space.

  Sixteen

  Ngyuen glanced at her wrist as North stepped onto the catwalk above another massive crowd of fresh recruits.

  “Ten seconds to spare,” Ngyuen smiled. “Close.”

  “North! Get your ass over here!” Terlinger yelled from the railing. “You’re late!”

  “Actually he had ten seconds left, sir,” Ngyuen said.

  “Did he?” Terlinger asked. “Good. I didn’t feel like climbing down there to one of the airlocks and ejecting his ass.”

  “I thank you for that, sir,” North said. “How many are we looking at with this batch?”

  Ngyuen pulled up a file on her wrist and scrolled through it. “Eighty-seven thousand, four hundred, and fifty-one.”

  “Eighty-seven thousand?” North gasped, looking at Terlinger. “That’s more than we’re scheduled for. Did CSC increase the recruitment again?”

  “It appears so, North,” Terlinger said. “Will that be an issue for you?” Terlinger looked at the major and frowned. “Jesus, man, you’re sweating profusely. How much pharma did you take?”

  “Enough so that nothing is an issue for me,” North said. “I told you I had it under control.”

  “Better have,” Terlinger nodded. “I can afford for cadets to burn out, but having you burn out on me will be highly inconvenient. Don’t inconvenience me, North.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it, sir,” North said. “Do you want me to—?”

  “Death to the Estelian impostors!” someone below shouted. “Long live the Earth colonies!”

  “Who said that?” Metzger shouted from the side of the crowd.

  “What the hell?” Terlinger asked, but no one had time to answer as a blinding flash erupted down in the bay below.

  North’s world turned upside down and inside out. He felt himself lifted up off the catwalk and thrown out into the open air. Everything was pink spots before his eyes, a shrill ringing in his ears, and a thought-shredding buzz saw of pain ripping through his brain. He knew he was screaming, as well as falling, but he couldn’t truly grasp the importance of either.

  Not until he slammed into a mound of corpses.

  Then it was all black.

  There should have been a lot more pain than there was when he came to, but the pharma kept the agony to a minimum as he slowly rolled off the pile of bodies that had saved his life. He hit the deck of the bay and pressed his forehead against the cool metal before pushing himself up to a kneeling position. Slowly, and with the reluctant caution of a beaten dog, North got to his feet and looked about at the bloody chaos that filled the bay.

  Corpses littered the area. Arms, legs, heads, blood and offal were everywhere.

  Of the eighty-seven thousand plus recruits, North could see maybe a quarter of that on their feet and moving with another quarter on the ground, wounded but not dead. The rest, close to fifty thousand, made up the grotesque detritus that was strewn here and there.

  Something grabbed North by the ankle and he cried out, although the sound was a muffled squeak to his blast-damaged ears. He looked down and saw a three-fingered hand poking out of the corpse pile, blood squirting from the stumps where two fingers had been previously. North just stared at the hand as it weakly flapped against his leg then watched in stunned shock as it slowly went limp then stopped moving all together.

  Far off, a lifetime away, someone was calling his name.

  North raised his head from the less than complete appendage and tried to find the source of the hail. But all he could see was insanity. Death-laden, sanguine insanity.

  “North!” A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and whipped him around. “Goddamn it, North! Where’s the commandant?”

  The words were filtered by fuzz and reverb, but North at least knew where they came from.

  “Metzger,” North said. “What happened?”

  “What?” Metzger yelled.

  “What happened?” North bellowed then closed his eyes against the resultant pain in the center of his forehead. “Fuck, my head.”

  “Lumen grenade!” Metzger said. “One of the recruits must have been a doubleganger and had it embedded internally!”

  “Why didn’t the scanners pick it up?” North asked.

  “I don’t know!” Metzger replied. “They should have!”

  But North knew. He pressed his wrist. “Link?”

  Nothing happened.

  “Don’t bother!” Metzger said as he tapped his scorcher. “Lumens work like an EMP, but molecularly!”

  “I know how lumen grenades work!” North replied. “And they are nothing like an EMP!”

  “Same result!” Metzger yelled. “They fuck shit up! Including people!”

  “Yeah, I know!” North shouted.

  “Then why did you bother trying to call Linklater?” Metzger asked.

  “Habit!”

  “Oh!”

  The two men looked about at the carnage.

  “Fuck me,” North said.

  “Ya got that right,” Metzger nodded. “Where’s Terlinger?”

  “He was up there, the last I saw him,” North said as he pointed up towards the catwalk.

  “Jesus fuck, man,” Metzger said, looking at North’s right hand. “How are you not screaming?”

  North lowered his right hand and stared at the fingers. The middle and ring fingers were bent at angles that fingers should not have been bent at. “Oh…”

  “Here. I can fix those,” Metzger said. He dropped his useless scorcher, grabbed North’s wrist with one hand and the dislocated fingers with the other then twisted and pulled.

  “Fuck!” North screamed.

  “Yeah, you felt that,” Metzger smiled as North pulled his hand away.

  “Hard not to,” North said then looked back up to the catwalk. “We should check on the commandant.”

  “I’ll leave that to you,” Metzger said, seeing some of his security guards come hobbling his way. “I’ll coordinate down here. Looks like med has arrived.” Metzger stopped and looked over at the men and women streaming into the bay.

  “That was fast,” North said.

  “Fast?” Metzger yelled. “It took them twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes? I was out that long?” North asked.

  “I don’t have a clue how long you were out!” Metzger said then grimaced as he glanced around at the corners of the bay. “Why aren’t security claxons blaring?”

  “Why aren’t a lot of things working?” North asked. “I’ll find the commandant then I’m going to get Linklater. Too much tech going down for this to be isolated.”

  “Or for it to be just one man,” Metzger said. “There’s someone inside.”

  “How do you know?” North asked.

  “I know,” Metzger replied. “It’s my job.”

  “Shit,” North said. “We’re going to have to do a full personnel sweep.”

  “Not without the commandant’s orders,” Metzger said, nodding towards the catwalk. “Better get up there.”

  North started to respond, but Metzger was already moving off towards his people and yelling.

  “Pharma up, people!” Metzger ordered. “We’re gonna need the boost!”

  The ladder to the catwalk wasn’t an option as North’s adrenaline counteracted the pharma and his hand started to sing. He made his way through the dead and wounded and out a side hatch. Medical personnel were sprinting at him, but he waved them on and shouted for them to focus on the truly wounded. A couple dislocated fingers were nothing compared to the damage thousands faced in the bay.

  North reached the closest lift and took it up three floors to the catwalk level. He stepped out and found himself looking at a collapsed Ngyuen on the corridor floor.

  “Kyly? Kyly, can you hear me?” North asked as he knelt next to Ngyuen and carefully rolled her onto her back.

  The corporal moaned softly, but didn’t
wake up. North pressed his wrist, but his comm unit was still offline. He pressed Ngyuen’s and was surprised to see it activate.

  “Unauthorized biometrics,” a computerized voice said. “Access denied.”

  “Medical emergency override,” North responded. “Medical personnel needed at this location.”

  “Medical override acknowledged,” the computerized voice said. “Medical alert sent. System locking down to prevent further use.”

  “Yeah, you do that,” North said as he stood and moved towards the hatch to the catwalk.

  He got to the open hatch and was surprised there was no sign of Commandant Terlinger. North stepped out onto the catwalk, keeping his eyes averted from the bloody mess below, and kept going until he reached the hatch on the far side. He pressed his wrist against the sensor, but the hatch didn’t open.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered as he tried again. “No way.”

  He took a deep breath, looked at the wheel in the middle of the hatch, then gripped it with both hands and started to turn. Pain erupted in his fingers, but he ignored it as best he could until the wheel’s resistance lessened and the hatch moved. North put his shoulder against it and shoved until it was open enough for him to fit through.

  There was no sign of Terlinger, but there was certainly sign of his passage. A trail of deep red blood led from the hatch and down the corridor.

  “Shit,” North said. “Commandant! Commandant Terlinger!”

  No response.

  North followed the trail of blood, which became thicker and darker with every meter, until he reached a corner. He looked left and saw nothing, he looked right and gasped.

  “Commandant?” North asked as he rushed at the man collapsed against the wall, a four foot metal rod protruding from his belly. “Commandant!”

  “North?” Terlinger whispered. “Is that you?”

  “It is, sir,” North said. “Just be quiet and hold still. I’m going to call for help.”

  “Can’t,” Terlinger responded, shaking his head slightly. “I’m offline.”

  “Damn it, me too,” North said. “Just stay put. I’ll find a wall comm and call med.”

  “No, don’t,” Terlinger said as he looked down at the metal bar. “They won’t make it in time. Just stay here and listen.”

  “Sir, I have to try,” North argued. “I can’t let you—”

  “Shut up, North. That’s an order,” Terlinger coughed, sending a stream of black-red blood spilling out over his lips and down his chin. “There is something you need to know.”

  “Sir, med can still help,” North said. “The bleeding is slowing, I can see that. If they get you in a pod then they can fix you right up.”

  “Can’t fit this in a pod,” Terlinger smiled through bloody lips and teeth. “Doesn’t matter. I can feel how fast I’m fading.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Shut up, North!” Terlinger ordered. “Listen!”

  “Sorry,” North replied.

  “This war,” Terlinger said. “This war is not what you think.”

  “War never is, sir,” North said then got a harsh look and closed his mouth.

  “The Estelians, they aren’t what you think either,” Terlinger continued. “They aren’t even…” He bent over and coughed hard, sending a shower of blood across the corridor floor. “They aren’t…” More coughing, more blood.

  “Sir, just rest,” North said.

  “This,” Terlinger whispered, pulling a medal from his chest and handing it to North. “This will tell you everything…”

  “Sir, this is your Medal of Valor,” North said. “From your time in the Xenxo System.”

  “No,” Terlinger said. “It’s the truth… The truth…”

  The commandant’s eyes rolled up into his head and he sighed one last time.

  “Fuck,” North said as he checked for a pulse, but couldn’t find one. “Oh, fuck.”

  North stood up, a medal in his hand and a million questions in his mind. He struggled for clarity, but all he found were Terlinger’s last words wreaking havoc with his thoughts.

  “What truth?” he asked then shook his head as he tucked the medal into his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. He was dying, he didn’t know what he was saying.” North took a deep breath and shook his head. “I have to call in to CSC. That’s something I do know. That’s a hard truth right there.”

  Seventeen

  “Everyone hold up,” Valencio ordered as she slowed her fighter skiff. “I’m getting some weird chatter from Perpetuity.”

  “I’m hearing it too,” London said. “There was an explosion or something.”

  “We heading back?” Zenobia asked.

  “Not unless North calls us,” Valencio replied. “If something is going down then the safest place for us is in the vacuum. We hold tight until I hear directly from North.”

  “So, what now?” London asked. “We sit here?”

  “Give me a minute,” Valencio said.

  “Best call North and double check,” Richtoff said. “You know how crabby that guy gets when he thinks you’re going against him even when you’re not. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Everyone shut up and let me think,” Valencio ordered. “When we’re in the vacuum, I’m in charge, not North.”

  Valencio stared out of her cockpit and watched the glinting dust particles that floated by her fighter skiff. There were more than a few times in her life where she felt just like those particles. Even with the structure of the military and the CSC, there was still tons of uncertainty and insecurity to deal with. The war against the Estelians was not a cut and dried campaign.

  She had done things that she was not proud of. She had killed many that had stopped fighting and were just trying to flee. Just doing what she had been ordered to do. Even if they were doublegangers, they were still trying to run to safety, not attack her. She wasn’t indoctrinated so much that she didn’t know that innocents were lost on both sides of the war.

  Valencio turned her head and studied the cadet pilots that waited for her orders. They weren’t exactly innocents, but they were certainly ignorant. Ignorant of the realities of war and the realities of living with war. They’d been recruited in schools, at job fairs, on collectives, at recreation halls, more than few of them on the sidewalks outside bars.

  Vids projected to their wrists from grinning, attractive CSC reps. Told that Earth needed them, that the colonies needed them, that if they didn’t do it then who would? Who would stand up and fight the Estelians? Who would help against the monsters that had corrupted humanity? Who would lead the charge, follow faithfully, fight to the death against the doublegangers that threatened good, red-blooded earthlings every second of every day?

  “We stay,” Valencio said. “North wanted us off the station and out in the vacuum, so we stay off station and out in the vacuum. None of these rookies can do a damned thing on the Perpetuity except get in the way. Might as well keep to the schedule and teach these cadet pilots what it means to fly a fighter.”

  “Roger that,” Zenobia replied.

  “Sound decision,” Richtoff said. “Best to stick to business.”

  “London? Agreed?” Valencio asked.

  “Your call, boss,” London replied. “I’ll back whatever.”

  “Then we stay and train,” Valencio said. “London, you monitor communications with the Perpetuity. I want strictly intracomm between fighters. No distractions. Let the station work out whatever is going on. If North wanted my help then he shouldn’t have kicked us out of the sim bays.”

  “Harsh, but fair,” London laughed. “I have the comm. You jocks just fly and scare the fuck out of these rookies. If at least a dozen don’t have piss in their panties and shit in their drawers by the end of today then we haven’t worked them hard enough.”

  “I fucking hear that!” Zenobia laughed.

  “Richtoff? You take the lead,” Valencio said. “Head an hour out. We’ll train by the cannon debris field.”

/>   “That a good idea?” London asked. “You sure the Perpetuity won’t be using it for target practice?”

  “Not if you relay our position back to them,” Valencio growled. “Did you not understand your responsibilities when I put you in charge of communications?”

  “I’m on it, boss, I’m on it,” London replied. “My bad.”

  “You sure you’re on it?” Valencio asked.

  “I’m sure, I’m sure,” London said. “I’m initiating squadron intracomm now and calling in our position and training plans to the Perpetuity. If I don’t get confirmation from them, I’ll let you know.”

  “You better, London,” Zenobia said. “I don’t want to end up as space trash floating around the solar system because some idiot cadet back on station decides to take cannon pot shots at old wreckage.”

  “Everyone off my back!” London snapped. “Jesus, people, I know how to do my job!”

  “Good,” Valencio said. “Richtoff? Take us out.”

  “Cadet pilots!” Richtoff shouted over the comm. “We are taking a trip to the debris field exactly forty-four degrees from your center! Adjust course and follow me! We stay tight in sixteens! Not sure what your sixteens are then take a look at your formation map on your screens. Green is your sixteen, red is not your sixteen. Now break into formation and hit those thrusters!”

  Valencio watched as the cadet pilots clumsily maneuvered their skiffs into fighting groups of sixteen. It took way longer than she would have liked, but no one had a mid-space collision, so she considered the effort a win. She tapped at her screen and began numbering and tagging each sixteen for reference. Once all the sixteens were formed, Richtoff’s skiff shot ahead and the groups followed closely.

  “Hanging back with me, boss?” London asked.

  “I get a better view of the chaos from here,” Valencio replied.

  “I hear that,” London said.

  “We good with Perpetuity?” Valencio asked.

  “We’re good,” London said. “Our location is noted. Not that the flight controllers could give two fucks. They wouldn’t tell me what was up, but shit ain’t good back there.”