Here We Stand, page 15




“He would, actually.” She sipped the Calvados and realised it had probably aged further on the journey while she hadn’t. Cryo kept providing odd moments of realisation. “Britzilla. Hah.”
“Did you ever have a nickname? A friendly one, not a headline.”
“Haine calls me Bridgers. Sometimes Boadicea.”
“Boadicea lost in the end. Not really a good fit.”
“I wish someone would call me Bridget. Even Fred doesn’t, and I asked him to. You and Howie should too.”
“As long as it’s Captain in public.”
“But we’re all civilians, technically. Well, not Chris. Or Jared. We always come back to that. I think it’s time we accepted we’re the Opis armed forces, Nomad Base is independent from Earth, and we should recommission ourselves properly.”
“Along Royal Navy lines?”
“I’m prepared to let the Army keep its funny little ways.”
“Good luck with the Yanks. Remind them they’ve got form for this.”
“I’ll reintroduce red jackets.”
“They’ll appreciate that.”
Marc started laughing. Ingram wasn’t drunk yet, but she was more relaxed than she’d been for ages, and Marc always made her feel she wasn’t making the hard decisions alone. She wasn’t, of course: she’d agreed to power-sharing because she had no authority — military, national, or social — or the physical ability to enforce it even if she tried.
It didn’t stop her feeling responsible, though. And that was when Marc became her anchor in a way that not even Peter Bissey could. Bissey was a sounding board and a moral compass, but always her subordinate. Marc didn’t defer to her at all. He didn’t talk to a rank, he talked to her. He’d go through his take on a situation with meticulous care and treat her as an equal who he expected to either show him where he was wrong or agree with him. She needed him for calibration because she’d never made combat decisions in total isolation like he had. Even in the middle of a battle, Fleet Command had always known where her ship was, and there was usually another vessel or air support to assist in a crisis, even if it couldn’t get there in time. But Marc had often worked entirely alone behind enemy lines, out of radio contact for weeks or months at a time, where nobody was going to come to his aid or even realise he was in trouble. He exercised a different kind of judgment that she could learn from.
“I thought I was a competent commander,” Ingram said. “I didn’t have any doubts on the bridge. But I know I’m out of my depth here.”
“We all are. Everyone is when they’re faced with something new.” Marc shrugged. “There’s no point thinking you ought to refer everything to HM Gov, because you’re not even covering your arse now. They aren’t the grown-ups either. No government is. Exhibit A — the whole bloody world over the last century or two. We’ve been conditioned to be children.”
“I see you’re in anarchist mode.”
“No, just reminding you there’s no alternative.” He refilled her cup and raised his half-heartedly. “To healthy scepticism.”
“I’ll feel better when I hear back from Solomon.”
“Weird.” Marc got up and went to the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. He ran the tap, rinsing something. “I mean, he’s here. If he was actively patched into the alarm system, he could hear us. But he’s out near Dal Mantir too. I’m never going to get used to the way he can split himself up. It’s not like me monitoring a bank of feeds. He’s in it. No physical form. It does my head in when I really think about it.”
“I haven’t spoken to him about the new planet.”
“He knows already. He sees all the comms.”
Ingram’s screen chirped in her pocket. A night off counted for nothing. She checked it, hoping it was nothing urgent, and found a message from Haine to tell her he was starting a post mortem on Lirrel’s body with Jake Mendoza, and asking if she wanted to be present.
“Problem?” Marc asked, leaning on the breakfast bar like a pub landlord.
“Haine’s started a post mortem on the teerik. He asked if I want to be there.”
“Funny time to start. But he knows how to show a girl good time.”
“He’s been putting it off. He’s had the body for a couple of weeks.”
“You’d better be going, then,” Marc said. “He might have plucked and stuffed it with sage and onion by the time you get there.”
Ingram wasn’t sure if Marc was tactfully telling her to go home, but it was getting late and she was feeling the effects of too many late nights and too much Calvados.
“I’ll see how brave I feel on the way back,” she said. “I don’t want anything spoiling that lovely jalfrezi.”
“Next one’s on you, then.” Marc sealed the Calvados bottle and put it in her bag. “Well, that was fun.”
She flapped her hand. “Keep the bottle.”
“Okay, I’ll save it for next time. Are you in a fit state to ride back, or do you want a lift?”
“I’ll be extra-careful. I could even walk.”
Ingram realised how much she was enjoying being able to speak freely — no Solomon in constant virtual attendance, no obligations of rank, nobody needing her to put on a brave face — but the evening had reached its natural end. She climbed onto the bike and took a deep breath of night air that smelled of arriving at a foreign airport, the same as it had when she first set foot on the planet.
Marc stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. “You’ve had a few tonight, Boadicea, so you might not remember this in the morning,” he said. “But you’re doing a bloody good job. If you were a liability, I’d have intervened by now. Just carry on being what you’ve always been.”
“Thank you. I needed to hear that... I think.”
“Goodnight, Bridget.”
It sounded like someone else’s name. “Goodnight, Marc.”
Ingram rode back to the main building with the excessive care that only someone who was drunk could apply. What did he mean by intervene? She could guess, but she wasn’t sure if it was comic exaggeration or the honest truth that he’d remove a liability to everyone’s safety the way he dealt with any other security threat. No, he wasn’t joking. He’d have removed her, by force if need be, and saying so was his way of reassuring her that she really did have his approval. As compliments went, it was both odd and welcome.
She managed to park the quad bike straight without letting its AI take over and thought how pathetic it was to still be living above the shop, but the cabin in the collection of office units that formed the main building still had more appeal than being in a house on her own.
The question now was whether she was obliged to watch Haine and Mendoza dissecting a dead alien. The answer was no. She messaged Haine with an apology and took a quick shower before flopping onto her bunk.
There was nothing like being full of curry and alcohol and just drifting off. It was blissfully primitive. She needed to do this more often.
Definitely.
Can I still make risotto properly?
Yes, can’t go wrong with a risotto…
She was sure she’d only just fallen asleep when her screen chirped again. God, she hoped it wasn’t Haine offering to show her an interesting alien bowel section or worse. She fumbled for the screen before she was fully awake and held it flat on the pillow.
“Ingram.”
“Apologies for waking you, Captain, but I thought you’d want to know right away,” Solomon said. “We’re into Jattan naval comms. I’m now completely integrated back here and monitoring transmissions with help from Fred.”
That snapped her fully awake. “Bravo Zulu, Sol. Bloody good effort. So now we can watch and wait.”
“Indeed. And you and I can catch up on today’s developments later. My apologies again for waking you.”
“No problem,” she said. “I’ll sleep like a log tonight.”
Ingram tapped out a quick message to Searle and the Gang of Three to let them know they were in business, and settled down again to sleep. Solomon had done very well indeed. He’d also indicated that there were things he wanted to discuss with her, probably the assessment of Srale as an alternative site. As Marc had pointed out, he’d have heard the conversation with Fred. It was his job to know everything that went on in Nomad Base.
Ingram hoped he was reassured that she’d heeded his advice about not opening the floodgates for Earth. For all his insistence that he’d do as he was asked, even if he disagreed, there was nothing she could do to stop him if he changed his mind. He was an SDS AI, moral type or not, and they’d been banned for a reason.
“Intervention,” she mumbled into her pillow. “What a lovely word for assassinating me.”
04
I’m not stupid, I wasn’t drunk, and I know what we saw. Find that Vincent bitch before the Korean cops do and let’s connect the dots.
Tim Pham, Commissioner for Science and Technology, Alliance of Asian and Pacific States, talking to private military contractor Jimmy Mun.
Security office, Nomad Base: 0820 hours, October 6, OC.
No matter how many times Marc rehearsed the conversation in his head, it still sounded like complete bollocks. Tev would think he’d lost the plot.
But then Tev believed in divine intervention and miracles, for all his pragmatic approach to soldiering, so maybe he’d hear Marc out. There was no easy way to ask the bloke if he wanted to bring his whole family to live on another planet, and tell him the journey would take seconds.
See? It still sounded bloody insane.
Marc could see Chris and Trinder approaching as mobile icons on his base map and estimated they’d be here in five minutes. He went outside to stand by the doors and wait. This was going to be a discussion conducted where Sol couldn’t hear it, not because the AI would have any objections or try to interfere, but because this was awkward personal stuff. There was only so much privacy Marc was prepared to surrender. Back at Ainatio’s HQ, he and Tev would do their daily run around the campus and discuss private matters on the way, well outside Sol’s audio range.
Chris and Trinder strolled across the green from the direction of Kill Line with their hands in their pockets, deep in discussion. Marc walked out to meet them.
“So I guess this isn’t about a surprise party for Sol, then,” Chris said. “Problem?”
Marc shrugged. “It’s only personal stuff. I wanted to clear my yardarm with you two and I’m uncomfortable with an audience.”
“Ingram?” Trinder asked.
“Now what makes you say that?”
“The map doesn’t lie. She paid you a visit last night. You want us to slug it out over who gets to be your groomsman?” Trinder suddenly looked sheepish. “Hey, I was on duty. You do the same. We keep an eye on who’s where.”
“Yeah, okay. Actually, we discussed what to do about Tev. She says go get him.”
“Oh.”
“Do it,” Chris said. “I’ll ride shotgun.”
“He’s probably fine, but you can imagine the worst as well as I can. If Pham’s still functioning, he’ll have taken a different view of Tev since Abbie Vincent showed up. The Ainatio connection.”
“There’s no sign of Pham on the news, so he might be in deep shit himself for letting Abbie into Korea in the first place,” Chris said. “But yeah, Tev’s at risk. So when do we go?”
“You don’t,” Marc said.
“Then how come we’re having this meeting?”
“You both have unfinished business on Earth and I want to square things with you,” Marc said. “If I get to break the rules, and that pisses you off for any reason, I need to know.”
“It doesn’t, but if it did, tough shit,” Chris said. “I can wait for Pham.”
Trinder looked uncomfortable. “This is about me, isn’t it? Okay, finding my family would be a long job, and if we can go back to Earth now, I’ve got to be honest with myself about why I didn’t try to find them before and what I do next. But that’s my problem to deal with, not yours.”
“Thanks, lads,” Marc said. “I know there’ll be blowback from some of the Cabot and Ainatio people, but I’ll handle that.”
“Call me when you need a hand,” Chris said.
“I’ve got to locate Tev first. See you later.”
Marc headed over to the admin office and didn’t look back. He had Tev’s current contact details from the last message he’d received back on Earth, but the first hurdle was making sure any comms traffic originating here looked like it came from some routine place on Earth that wouldn’t drop Tev further in it. So he couldn’t risk a spoofed point of origin from Britain. That would look routine for a British bloke who’d resettled in Fiji, but if Pham was still up to his usual bastardry and managed to ID Marc’s call, it would present a target for Pham that wasn’t actually there. Innocent people could get hurt.
Well, he’d work that out later. He dropped by the admin office to let whoever was on duty know that he was going into the armoury and found Lennie Fonseca at the desk.
“Morning, Captain,” he said. “I’m signing in to the armoury. Nobody’s moved the cutter thing, have they?”
“Hi Marc.” She looked him over. He gave her his most indifferent look back. “It’s still showing on the inventory, so if it’s gone missing, I’ll be mad.”
“I’ll let you know, then,” he said, and turned to go.
“Marc, is Chris okay?”
“Have you asked him?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, whatever he said, then.”
“Just don’t let him go after Pham. It won’t end well.”
Chris’s inability to give up a grudge or a promise was embedded in Nomad’s folklore now and everyone knew Pham was top of his bugger-about list. But Fonseca was probably angling for a way back into Chris’s misplaced affections, because the bloke wasn’t moping after her like an abandoned puppy and she couldn’t work out why. Marc did Chris a favour and didn’t take the bait. Chris was better off without her.
“I dissuaded him strongly, Captain,” Marc said. “He won’t.”
He walked down to the armoury and put his hand on the sensor to open the door. “Sol, are you there? Now we’ve got a bit of privacy, could you do me a favour?”
“Of course, Marc. Is this about the weapons?”
At the end of a bank of lockers and racks, there was a transparent cabinet with full-width shelves that housed the Jattan energy weapon and Lirrel’s industrial beam cutter, the thing he’d used to kill Nina Curtis. Marc hadn’t asked Fred to show him how to use it yet, mainly because it was probably a bit too soon for the teerik, but if the device could give Marc an edge when he went back for Tev, he’d learn fast. He stood studying it, working out how and where he’d holster it for quick use without slicing his own leg off. It looked a lot smaller than he remembered when he’d retrieved the thing after killing Lirrel. It was just a smooth, curved tube like the top half of a walking stick. The Jattan energy weapon had a similar design.
“Sol, I need to make a call to Earth.”
“Yes, Captain Ingram told me you might have a request and that I was to co-operate.”
“I need to cover my tracks.”
“If you use the probe relays currently in Earth space, the signal can’t be traced back to here.”
“I meant where it appears to come from on Earth,” Marc said. “If APS are monitoring Tev’s comms, I don’t want to misdirect them to Britain in case they’re feeling trigger-happy.”
“I’m sure I can obscure it completely,” Solomon said. “May I ask if you’re going to bring Tev to Opis?”
“If he wants to come, yes.”
“I’m glad. I like Tev. He and his family will be an asset to the community.”
“Yeah. I should have worried about him the minute the Koreans started looking for Abbie Vincent.”
“You judge yourself very harshly,” Solomon said. “Tev was fine the last time you spoke.”
“Yeah, but APS know where he is because they took him there. And they’re not going to overlook the fact that he worked at Ainatio and now they’ve got die-back, courtesy of the same company.”
“Let’s find him, then. I have his last messaging address before we left Earth.”
“Thanks.” There was no hiding anything from Sol, not because he looked for it but because he couldn’t avoid knowing it was there in the system. “Depending on how far we get, I might want to check up on Barry Cho as well. Not in person. I just want to know he’s okay. The easy way is for me to call Lawson in the Foreign Office and ask if Cho’s dad and sister were given asylum, but obviously that’s a non-starter. He thinks I’m in cryo beyond Pluto now.”
“Do you want me to find Cho?”
“If you can, please.”
Cho had risked a lot to help Marc evacuate the Ainatio campus and Marc fully expected Pham to put the kid on a charge when they got back to Korea. A crazy but inevitable thought kept wandering into Marc’s mind. If he could extract Tev, he could do exactly the same for Barry Cho. If his family had made it to Britain, he could whisk him out of wherever he was and reunite them a long way from APS’s reach, unless Pham had had him shot, of course, or shot the kid himself, which was much more Pham’s style.
“After the Jattan naval network, I suppose it’ll be relatively easy for you.” Marc knew he was making small talk to buy himself time before he spoke to Tev and tried not to sound like a nutter. “You did well there. What do they talk about?”
“From what I can translate so far — what the linguistics AI can translate, anyway — they sound very much like yourselves. They’re critical of their bureaucracy, they’re extremely interested in the menu of the day in their communal eating areas, and they have animated discussions about the relative merits of weapons. I believe they also tell jokes of a kind.”