Shrugging, I decided to keep the info under my helmet for now. They’d probably figure out the danger themselves and come up with some kind of plan to escape Province 926 after this attack. They must have an exit-plan, right?
Putting these irritating thoughts out of my mind as best I could, I whistled all the way back to my post at the outer hull. Graves scolded me when I finally arrived, and he put my unit as far from the entrance as possible. We were pretty much guarding the big ship’s nosecone from the inside.
That’s when I decided to make the best out of an unpleasant situation. Finding a good spot to loaf, I placed myself behind a massive strut and tried to get some shuteye—but I found that hard to do.
I kept thinking about what Armel had said about scads of mini-Skay sentinel ships converging on Dominus all at once. I saw it play out in my mind’s eye, and it still wasn’t a pretty sight.
-31-
After we crossed the demilitarized zone and entered Province 926 proper, everyone seemed to be holding their breath. My unit stayed on station for thirteen straight hours, and let me tell you, that was no picnic.
Our suits were built for long term survival in space. You could piss your pants, and it would filter down around your toes in these tubes and things. An hour later, you drink it right back. That was pretty cool if you were stuck in hard vacuum, waiting for rescue. But since we were just left at our posts without relief for an absurdly long time, it was annoying and disgusting.
At last, Winslade contacted Graves. I overheard the talk, as I’d gotten Natasha to tap into the command channel by this time. She’d done it at around the fourth hour out of sheer boredom.
“Graves?” Winslade asked. “Are you still standing guard in the ship’s prow?”
“Yes sir. Until relieved, as ordered. The third cohort never—”
“Yes, yes. Excellent. All the others requested relief hours ago. You’re to stand down, Graves. Put your men to bed. Winslade out.”
That was it. Graves had been stoically forcing us to stand at what amounted to the ship’s head-watch—a punishment duty since time immemorial—for no reason other than sheer stubbornness.
We were dismissed, and we left grumbling. Most of the troops headed for the showers and their bunks, but I took a detour in the direction of the mess deck.
The main meal service was shut down, but I managed to scare up some passable fare. About an hour later, my gut was full, and I was feeling good again.
“Ew. You stink, McGill.”
Turning, I saw Carlos come in and sit down. “What kind of an animal thinks of its gut first, instead of cleaning out recycling tanks?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “I dumped it all in the restroom over there before sitting down.”
Carlos wrinkled his potato-shaped nose. “That’s not the same thing. Not at all.”
“What do you care? Are you trying to ask me out on a date or something?”
“No one would date you, Centurion. Not tonight.”
“Wanna bet?”
We talked and ate for about half an hour. At last I grew tired of Carlos, so I said goodnight and stood.
“Heading for the showers?”
“That’s right.”
“Say, um, before you go, sir…”
That line kind of surprised me. Carlos hadn’t called me sir all night. That would normally be unacceptable, but as we were alone right now, I didn’t care. After all, we’d been together since we’d joined the legion on the same day decades ago.
“What is it, Specialist?”
“I’ve heard… rumors. Some people say this rocket-ride is one-way. It’s a suicide mission.”
I stared at him for a moment. “Who says that?”
He shrugged. “People. Anyway, is it true?”
I thought for a full second about what Armel had said. That getting in was going to be easy, but once we started shooting, well… getting back out again wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
Grinning at Carlos, I gave him a laugh. “That’s nonsense. Those robots out there are scary, but they’re dumb machines. Armel switched them off on the way in, and he’ll do it again on the way out. There might be some ships full of lizards chasing us, sure. But they’ll never catch Dominus. Earth’s warp drives are better than the trash they fly around out here.”
Carlos gave me a flickering smile. “Thanks for the update, sir.”
He stood and left. I knew he didn’t believe me. I’d given him an excellent lie, too. Sure, he’d known me for years and all, but it was still galling to be disbelieved so easily.
Worse, I didn’t think Carlos had come up with this rumor on his own. Who had he been talking to?
Frowning, I worked my tapper. There were new “features” on our tappers these days. You could look into the comms history of anyone who was directly under your command.
Now, that was ripe for all kinds of abuse, but I’d never cared enough to use it that way. Even today, swiping through Carlos’ connection records, I didn’t give a rip about what girls he stalked on the grid. I was looking for names—the names of tech specialists.
Unsurprisingly, there was only one name on the list that fit the bill: Kivi.
“Hmm…” I said, studying the pattern of communications. She was sending him direct-messages, every hour or so, even back while we sat on our cans inside the hull. That wouldn’t have been suspicious, except for the fact that Kivi was in the same unit as Carlos—my unit. If she’d wanted to talk to him, couldn’t she have just sat beside him and flirted to her heart’s content?
I thought about opening the texts and reading them, but my big fat finger hesitated. I just didn’t want to see a dick-pic today. Not
