TNE 02 To Dream of Chaos Read online

  Physic shrugged.

  Though his Schalli race understood and fell emotion, Deep Six was still mystified by the self-destructive impulse In humankind. A deep-water Schalli, distinguished from the coastal subspecies by the darker, dapple-gray mottling of his streamlined body, he felt no cultural or racial alienation from any of his ancient and thoughtful race. That humans, who had been blessed by nature with far greater gifts of mobility and access to natural resources, were so prone to mutual distrust and occasional episodes of cultural suicide was a profound mystery to all the Schalli.

  "Anyway," Coeur said, "it is good to have you aboard—both Of you."

  "it will be good to return to the bridge," Deep Six said. "The intellectual stimulation of drawing star charts for the astrography branch is not as compelling as calculating your jump plots."

  "I heard you two were slated tojoinfetoonno'sprecommissionlng crew. This won't be as glamorous a posting as that"

  "It does have one advantage." Physic said. "Sellodonna won't be completed unlil next year."

  "You're tnat glad to get off the planet?" Coeur asked.

  "Yes, I'm that glad."

  Though RCES was a young service, just over a year old nine months into 1201, the toast was already a venerable custom. At least once a day, the Arses of a ship or unit would gather and raise their glasses In memory of the numerous dead they had lost— predominantly very young people who had paid the ultimate price for their faith In the future.

  "To our absent friends," Coeur said, raising her coffee cup.

  "Hear, hear," Crowbar seconded, with the nodding assent of the rest of the crew.

  Though Hornet was not large as starshlps went, her crew and passenger cornpartnenti were relatively spacious, befitting a ship designed for long-haul cargo runs. The crew lounge was therefore large, an area of 30 square meter; just behind the bridge. It was dominated by an autogalley (stocked with six months of concentrated rations) and a circular table just large enough to scat 10.

  Presently, the table sat eight, all the Arses and Marines assembled so far, less Gyro at anchor watch on the bridge. As before, the young woman had been tapped as the ship's XO and was glad to refamlliarlze herself with the ship's systems, "As soon as Drop Kick gels back tomonow, all of us will be back together again," Physic said.

  "Except Scissor," Deep Six pointed out, sipping from a flask of nonalcoholic ee'kwoi "Yes," Physic said, "except Scissor,"

  "Ifs always bothered me," Coeur admitted, "that I wasn't here when he died,"

  "That was unavoidable," Deep Six observed. "You and Drop Kick were obliged to remain on Sauler."

  "Does bring up a question, though," Mercy observed. "Has anyone heard anything about Tom? I mean, after she rescued you and Drop Kick from Sauler?"

  "No," Coeur said, "but I amconcerned. Noone knewshe'd turned into a pirate until we made our report. Now that they kno»v, the Coalition's Issued a warrant for her arrest and interrogation ,"

  "Wow*

  "I know," Coeur went on. "On one hand, I understand the Coalition's position—she helped distribute the Hlver plague and deserves to be punished. But she thought what she was doing was right—that she was saving us from manipulation by the H.vers."

  "And that's an excuse for mass murder?" Crowbar asked.

  "No," Coeur said. "No, it's not."

  "So what if we run into her out there In the field?" Physic asked. "Are we just supposed to ask her to pull over and turn henelf in?"

  Despite the gravity of the question, Coeur had to smile at the image of Hornet trying to detain Vega Tom'j ViEtArmis. Regardless of her recent Improve men is, Honiet was still roundly outclassed by Tom's 400-ton patrol cruiser.

  "I doubt we'll have to worry about it," she said. "Space is a big haystack, and Tom is a small needle."

  Deprived of any information about the coming mission, the other seven at the table digested that comment for possible meaning. Among themselves, they still had reached no consensus on the coming mission's possible nature, tno ugh opinions ran the gamut from a return to Sauler to a decap raid on the troublesome planet Solee.

  "Red Sun," Gyro said, breaking in on the conversation from the bridge, "there's a Hiver here to see you. Says he's our adviser from the Technical Academy."

  Coeur's eyebrows rose, expressing the surprise common to everyone In the room. Though they knewa new adviser was coming, memories of Scissor and to horrific and untimely death deflected them from deep reflection on the new adviser's possible character.

  That, and the eerie fact that Hivers had no emotions as humans understood them.

  "Did It give a name?"

  "Yes, sir. That would be Newton."

  "Newton. All right, send It up."

  Moments later, an exotic xenomorph padded Into the lounge through the aft hatch, a pinkish-tan creature with six flexible limbs radiating outward from its domed, low-slung central body. Lacking a head, and looking like nothing so much as a giant six-armed starfish. It exhibited a modified radial symmetry, with one raised limb bearing six eyes which extended on stalks from between its six splayed fingers, it was this unique limb which the humans instinctively regarded as the creature's head.

  That prime limbhad no nose, mouth or brain—thelranalogs being located at the top, bottom and center of the central body—so the comparison to a human head was iimited. Nonetheless, Newton's eyes offered Coeur her first hint of the River's young age: Hkeayourtg and curious human, It seemed fascinated by everything around it-focusing its eyes first on one human, then another, as if seeking to isolate their uniquely bizarre qualities for future reference.

  "Greetings," the naturally mute Hiver said finally, speaking artificially from a translation device slung under its chest, which It typed text into with Its tall Smb. "May I ask who Is the Individual Red Sun?"

  "I am," Coeur said. "Lieutenant Coeur 0' Esprit, commanding RCS HomeL"

  "An interesting call sign," Newton said. "Did it arise from a traumatic encounter with a class M star?"

  "No,itcamefrom the Scoutlnslgriialworewhenlwasrecwered."

  "I comprehend. You are an Imperial remnant. No doubt you would have many interesting stories."

  "No doubt"

  "Red Sun, I have been dispatched to replace your dead crewmemter, Scissor."

  Uncomfortable expressions crossed the faces of several Arses and Marines. Emotionally aware or not, Newton perceived that its statement had aroused some sort of adverse reaction.

  "Forgive me. Oid I say something inappropriate?"

  "No," Coeur lied, to get them past the awkward moment. "We're just tired."

  "Right," Crowbar said. "We're probably all jumpy from thinking about the mission."

  "Clarify please."

  "Oh, well," Crowbar extemporized, "it's classified, so only the skipper knows where we're going."

  "I understand. However, logical conclusions can be drawn from the equipment and fittings of this vessel,"

  "Really. Such as?"

  "Nothing specific," Newton mused. "However, one must note the heavy arms and drop capsules Installed In a ship nor properly armored for a planetary assault, and the short notice before launch. from this, I conclude a high probability that our mission Is o! high importance to the Coalition government and includes a high statistical probability of lethal opposition."

  "As in—likely to get us all Willed?"

  Newton stared at Crowbar a long moment before responding.

  "fs that nor what I said?"

  "Newton," Coeur interrupted, "perhaps I should show you to your quarters."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Whiz Bang, Bonzo," Coeur said, steering Newton back toward the aft hatch, "you've got clean-up detail."

  "Yes, sir," the Marines answered, as Coeur and Newton departed.

  After the others put their dishes in the autogalley and departed with comments on the late hour and the need to rise early the next day, Whi2 Bang and Bonzostayed behind, wlpingdown the table and vacuuming the lounge. It was grubby work, but essen
tial, lest crumbs and splatter Hoat free in a loss of gravity and contact ship's circuitry.

  "So," Whiz Bang said eventually, "what do you think about that dead Hiver crack?"

  "I don't know," Bonzo said, stowing the vacuum cleaner. "Hivers don't really have feelings. Scissor didn't, anyway."

  "Hm. So maybe Newton really is a replacement for him."

  Chapter Three

  When Drop Kick finally arrived at Nome! the next morning, he brought with him the last cargo the ship would load before launch, six young and eager Aubani Marines.

  "Hell, Crowbar," he said to the engineer, when he brought his recruits into the well-stuffed cargo bay, "is there anything you didn't pack in here?"

  "Actually, I could have fit a little more in," Crowbar said, looking around at the contents of the hold, "but if I did, we couldn't roll out the vehicles in a hurry."

  Hornet's greatest legacy from her merchant days was the spacious 50-ton cargo hold occupying one-quarter of the ship's total volume. Its present appearance, however, was more akin to a tightly packed garage. Two features immediately diminished the hold's volume. The 20-ton drop capsule pod occupied most of the starboard hold, and a 10-ton collapsible fuel module extended forward from the rear bulkhead—the latter extending Horneti two-paisec i-jmp range to three at the price of an extra week in jump. The real space hog was the 10-ton grav tank, towering over the six-ton C-carrier, a rack of six extra drop capsules and miscellaneous gear and ammunition strapped down 10 padeyes set into the open floor.

  "Actually, it looks pretty orderly," the beefy man beside Drop Kick said. This fellow, who looked to be about 30, was one of two men among the new arrivals with sergeant's chevrons on his green body sleeve.

  "first Sergeant Denikin," Drop Kick said, Introducing the man. "Call sign, Caffer."

  Gaffer then saluted and shook the engineer's hand.

  "Good morning, sir. Fine-looking assault ship you have here."

  "Really," Crowbar said, looking around at Die other troopers, as mystified as anyone by '.lie ultimate purpose of the gear in the hold. "Too bad I still don't know what we're going to do with her,"

  "Me neither. Drop Kick's been very secretive."

  "Just until we launch," the sergeant major said. "Is Red Sun around?"

  "Roger, up on the bridge. Said she'd like to see you when you arrive."

  "Okay, we're on our way. Crowbar." Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he added, 'The gunny's name Is Red Eye. Can you can help him get his troopers settled?"

  Glancing again at the troopers, Crowbar recognized Red Eye immediately. The gunnery sergeant was the tall trooper with a nasty mass of swollen blood vessels in the inner corner of bis right eye.

  "Sure thing."

  "Good. Gaffer, let's go meet the skipper."

  Though the crew lounge and bridge were directly forward of the cargo hold, getting there was no longer a direct walk. While Crowbar steered Red Eye, his two corporals and his two privates around the front of the tank to the port Iris valve. Drop Kick led Gaffer around the rear of the Gorrier, past the forward edge of the drop capsule pod and through the hatch to the unoccupied lounge and bfidge just ahead.

  On the bridge, pre-fllght checks were occupying both Coeur and Deep Six, the former concentrating on drives and hull integrity, and the latter on communications and sensors. Unlike Coeur, who sat in an acceleration couch at the portside pilot's station. Deep Six had moved his entire roller-chair up to his copilot's station. The Schalli's quick mind more than made up for dry-land immobility—in flight, he routinely ran communications with the barbels on his mu22le, manipulated sensors with his four ventral tentacles, and ground out preliminary jump plots in his head.

  "Drop Kick," Coeur said, coming around in her seat, "good, you're here,"

  "Arid ahead of schedule," Deep Six noted, wheeling his chair around.

  "Gaffer," DiopKick said, "meet Red Sun and Deep Six, captain and navigator of the Ho/net. This Is Gaffer, In charge of the drop troop squad."

  "Sir," Gaffer said, executing a snappy salute.

  "Red'll be fine," Coeur said, taking off her radio headset and standing ;c walk aft, "Are all of the troops aboard. Drop Kick?"

  "Roger. Crowbar said he'd get them quarters."

  "Good. I figured this trip, we'd put all the troopers In the loft, since there's plenty of staterooms."

  "How about the gunners?" Drop Kick asked.

  "Yeah, they're up there too, but I don't want any funny business," Coeur said, prompting a chuckle from both sergeants. Obviously, Gaffer had heard about Snapshot from Drop Kick.

  "Anyway," Coeur went on, "Galfer, I assume Drop Kick has briefed you on the command structure."

  "Yes, sir. You're the top dog in the air, Gyro's the XO and Drop Kick's the mar on the ground,"

  "Right," Drop Kick said, "although the drop troops wtll probably maneuver as a unit, under Gaffer,"

  "Whatever works," Coeur said. "That S what we do,"

  "If I may. Red Sun," Gaffer interjected, "I'd just like to say what an honor it Is to be on your ship. All of us are familiar with your mission to Sauler and what you did for the Hivers."

  "You been in the Held yoursell?"

  "Yes, sir. Took a shell for the commodore at Nicosia."

  "Really."

  "Yes, sir. An autocannon took a good-siied chunk out of my left leg,"

  "You seem to have recovered pretty well."

  "Yeah, the docs grew back my femur in a few months. The trouble was convincing 'em i was fit for Held duly."

  Coeur looked to Drop Kick for clarification.

  "Gaffer and Red Eye- that's Sergeant Maling—were instructorsat Fort Briefly, both with minor combat injuries. Since they've recently been cleared for the field—and have a chestful of medals for valor— they seemed like good choices to lead the ground pounders."

  There is something to be said for experience," Coeur admitted. "How about the rest of the troopers?"

  "Oh, well, I just asked each sergeant to recommend his two best students."

  "Good. Delegation of responsibility. Keep that up, and they'll send you to OCS."

  "With respect. Red, I'd father stay an NCO. Less hassles."

  "My man," Gaffer seconded.

  "Well, there's always the Arses," Coeur said. "We don't stand so much on rank."

  "Well, I don't know If I'd like that," Crowbar said. 'I worked a long time for these stripes."

  Coeur smiled and turned back to Deep Six.

  "Say, Slxer, now that the guys are aboard, how long until we can get in the air?"

  "I would say two hours," the Schalli said, "fora final power test and corrected jump plot."

  "Very good. Carry on pre-llight and request clearance to launch within that window."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Alt right. Drop Kick, let's see what kind of troopers you came up with."

  As it happened, Snapshot was in the lounge when the Marines and Coeur emerged from the bridge, pausing in her work to grab a carbostick from the autogalley. Obviously pleased to see her, but aware of Coeur's policy on fraternization, Drop Kick gave her a wink that the others, out of professional courtesy, pretended not to notice.

  "You must be Snapshot," Gaffer surmised. "Drop Kick told us about you."

  "Oh did he?"

  "Only good things," Drop Kick said.

  "Right," Gaffer said. "I hear you're a good missiieer."

  "Well, you know what they say: You're only as good as your next miss."

  "Yeah, that's the truth," Gaffer said. "Anyway, I hear one of Red Eye's privates is very excited to be on the same ship with you. I guess he's working to qualify as a naval gunnery spec."

  "Who's that?" Drop Kick asked. "Badger?"

  "Right, the Sea Gypsy."

  In later days, Coeur would remember the raised brow that Drop Kick exhibited at that comment. On Aubaine, the progressive capital of the Coalition and leader of the Assembly's Federalist faction, there was nevertheless an old tinge of prejudice against the Tif
elaii, or Sea Gypsies—an itinerant culture of the southern hemisphere historically associated with banditry and mischief. To Coeur, a resident of Aubaine for only three years, and Snapshot, therefor even less, the term "Sea Gypsy" was only a colorful local term. To Drop Kick, however, it was a term loaded with venom and a hint of an unexpected aspect of Gaffer's character.

  "I had no idea I was so famous," Snapshot said.

  "He probably heard about you from one of his instructors," Caffer suggested.

  "Well, there's usually time for drill in jump space," Snapshot said. "Maybe we can get in some time on the simulator program."

  "I'm sure we can set that up," Drop Kick said.

  Gaffer didn't comment on this, however, for his attention had suddenly shifted to a new focus—scrutiny of Snapshot's pale, freckled face.

  "Gaffer?" Snapshot asked.

  "Oh, excuse me. I was just noticing howdifferenlyou look. Are you from Brusrnan or Trantown originally?"

  Surprised, Snapshot shot a glance at Drop Kick.

  "Didn't you tell the sergeant where I was from?"

  "No," OropKlcksaid, shrugging. ''Did n't figure It was Important"

  "So where are you from?" Gaffer asked.

  I'm not from Aubaine," Snapshot said; "I was born on Oriflamme."

  "Oh," Gafter said, appearing disappointed.

  "What? Do you have a problem with that?"

  "Yeah," Drop Kick said, "do you have a problem with that?"

  "No, no," Gaffer said, sensing that Drop Kick's Indignation represented Coeur as well. "I don't have anything against Flam-ers—or I mean Oriflammen—personally. tfs just the planet I don't care for."

  "Really," Coeur said.

  "Any particular reason for that?" Snapshot asked.

  "Well, nothingworth fighting over. I just happen to thlnkyour planet Is a threat to the stability of the CoaliLion."

  At this, blood drained from Snapshot's already pale face, and her hands clenched Into lists, an ominous warning to Coeur that the touchy gunner was anticipating an escalation of rhetoric.

  "Like how?" Snapshot asked.

  "Well, for one thing, like trying to use your army to build your own private empire on the Back Face."