The Remnant Page 2

"Sir?"

  "Special Operations usually doesn't send me someplace unless Fleet Command needs someone dead, Sergeant. Usually a lot of someones. So what is the situation here?"

  McGee laughed. "Boredom, mostly, sir. We're just here to provide operational security for a bunch of scientists doing research on the planet below. There are a few dangerous animals to look out for, but the local indigenous population is friendly. It's a fluff mission, sir. No real threats."

  Tebrey frowned. "Who is we?"

  "Lieutenant Amelia Christopher and a ten-squad of marines, including myself. She wanted me to send her regards and apologize for not being available to meet you immediately. She's down on the planet with the science team."

  "Which planet?"

  "Cedeforthy, sir," McGee said slowly. "They don't tell you much, do they?"

  Tebrey shrugged. He wasn't about to discuss the shortcomings of Fleet Command with the sergeant. "Just eleven of you to provide security?"

  "Like I said, sir, no real threats."

  "Then why am I here?"

  "You'd have to ask the captain about that, sir," McGee replied. "Not that we mind having a new face aboard. We all know each other's stories by heart now. Good to hear something new."

  Tebrey studied the sergeant as he was led to the lift. McGee was obviously trying to be friendly. He wondered why. The sergeant had already said more to him than anyone else had after the tribunals. He hadn't brought up Tebrey's past, either, though Tebrey could tell he was dying to ask more questions. It seemed that everyone in Fleet had heard about the Kirov.

  "If you ever need a sympathetic ear, Commander, that's what sergeants are for, sir."

  "And I thought sergeants were around to keep us young, idiotic officers from doing stupid things in the field that got our people killed."

  McGee grinned. "That, too, sir." He cleared his throat. "Say, we've got a little poker game going every few days. You're welcome to come down and join us. It's just us marines, no swabbies allowed."

  "Thank you, Sergeant. I may take you up on that, if I have time. You strike me as the kind of man who knows when to relax, something I could stand to learn. You've served in the field, haven't you?"

  "Aye, sir. I fought the Nurgg when we re-took Johaunson's World in 'forty-nine. Nasty business, that, sir."

  "So I heard. I was at Norlin and Atlonglast."

  The sergeant gave an understanding nod. "I figured you for a veteran, sir. You have that look about you. Heard about Norlin. Anytime you need to talk or have a drink, come by our area."

  "Thank you, Sergeant. I know you don't have any information about my mission, but I was told I would be joining a team here. Could you tell me if they've arrived?"

  "No, sir. We've not had anyone else come aboard. Not for months."

  "Very well."

  The lift came to a smooth stop. "Here we are, deck B. Remember what I said about that drink," the sergeant said with a jaunty salute.

  Tebrey gave him a quick smile. He hadn't talked to anyone except reconstructive psychologists and the officers at his trial about what had happened. The jolly sergeant might be just the person he needed to talk to.

  "The captain is just through here."

  He nodded to the guards by the door – they were navy, not marines – and steeled his mind for what he knew was coming: The questions he couldn't answer. The accusations, never spoken, but thought loud and clear.

  Private Johnson waited for the sergeant and the commander to board the lift before turning and jogging down to the rec area for the marines, where a couple of the guys were playing cards.

  "Can you believe this shit?" he announced as he entered.

  "What are you on about now, Johnson?" Private Fitch asked without looking up.

  Johnson pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. "They brought in one of those bastards from Special Operations. One of them damn psychics."

  "Not what I heard," the other player muttered.

  "What do you know about it, Mills?" Johnson asked.

  Mills shrugged. "I heard the guy was Special Forces. Some military team being brought in because of that artifact that killed those two grad students a few weeks ago."

  "He's Special Operations," Johnson insisted.

  "Why do you think that?"

  "I saw the ID on the wand when he came aboard. I can't believe they'd let one of them on this ship."

  "What's it to you, Johnson?" said Fitch.

  "What's it to me?" Johnson snarled, standing up. "I'll tell you what it is to me. Those bastards are sick, perverted abominations. They can read your mind and –"

  "Oh, get off it, Johnson. That is the most idiotic thing you've said yet, and that takes some doing," Fitch interrupted in disgust. "Where do you get this shit? Last week it was the scientists were breeding monsters on the surface, wasn't it? Go away and let us play in peace, would you?"

  "You'll be sorry! You all will! You'll wish you'd listened to me!"

  "Whatever," Fitch muttered. "Your deal isn't it, Mills?"

  Tebrey saluted the captain as the door slid shut behind him. The captain's office was sparse and dimly lit except for around the desk. Another door, now closed, led to the captain's quarters, if Tebrey remembered the schematics correctly; he didn't feel like accessing his neural computer to find out for certain. The only decoration in the room was a wall screen set to a view of the planet below, and a small shrine along one wall with the obligatory plaques, models of previous commands, and a liquor decanter and glasses.

  "Have a seat, Commander."

  Tebrey sat in the chair as directed and studied the captain. Captain Mackenzie Thomas was a solidly build man of average height, starting to gray at the temples. Which meant his age could be anywhere from thirty-five to seventy, with rejuv treatments, but probably in his fifties. The captain closed several air screens on his desk, but left open one that looked it as if it had Tebrey's own file on it. If he was hoping for intimidation, Tebrey wasn't impressed. After a military tribunal, there wasn't much worse anyone could do to him.

  "I won't try to bullshit you, Lt. Commander Tebrey. I'm not happy to have you aboard. I've filed a complaint with Fleet Command, but I doubt it will get much attention."

  "May I ask what it is that the captain finds fault with?"

  Captain Thomas's lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. "I don't like having a man aboard who isn't under my command, but you'd have guessed that, since I doubt any captain does. Honestly, I just don't like what I see in your file."

  "And what is it in my file that you find so distasteful?"

  "Your file says that you were severely traumatized as a result of being the only survivor from the Kirov. If survivor is even the right word. Your medical file shows far more injuries than anyone could ever survive."

  "Unfortunately, I represent a quite an investment of time and resources. No expense was spared in my reconstitution. Also, the file is incorrect. There were a few other crewmembers who survived the ordeal."

  "But you don't deny being severely traumatized by the experience."

  "Captain, I was tortured for six days. My companion was slain. I fought to save the people on that ship, and in spite of everything, over two thousand of them died." For a moment the memory of the screams echoed through his mind. "Horribly, I might add. I don't know if you're aware of it, but I felt every one of those deaths. Yes, I'm a little traumatized by the experience."

  "That's my point, Commander."

  "I don't follow."

  "You admit to being traumatized – anyone would be. The problem I have is that you are here on my ship instead of in a psychiatric facility. You're here on my ship, and my orders say that you are to have full access to your armor and weapons. I have a trained killing machine aboard, with enough firepower to destroy this ship from the inside out, and the military isn't entirely sure you're mentally stable. Can you see my problem now, Commander?"

  "I can see that you don't have any choice in the matter. I didn't either. I don't even know why
I'm here. I get orders to move; I move. The military doctors say I'm ready to be back in the field; I go back into the field."

  "But they didn't completely clear you, did they?" the captain asked.

  Tebrey looked away. "I wasn't cleared for all of my old duties, no."

  "I don't understand the bond between someone like you and his companion. I've never even met one of your kind before. But if the military doesn't trust you, then why should I?"

  "You think I haven't asked myself that question every waking minute since they put me back together on Luna?" Tebrey asked.

  "Have you come to any insights you'd like to share?"

  "I don't think they expected me to live through what happened. Much less be able to return to duty," said Tebrey. "I think they wanted me to die."

  "That's a very cynical way of looking at things. Do you have any reason to believe that?"

  "Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't answer that," Tebrey replied. "Look, I don't want to be here, and you don't want me here, but we both just have to deal with it. I'm here. Why don't you tell me why."

  "I'd like you to talk to our psychologist. She's –"

  "I've talked to enough psychologists, Captain. No, thank you."

  "If you change your mind, let me know."

  "I won't," Tebrey snapped. "Not unless you manage to get orders from my superiors to the contrary. Now, why am I here?"

  Captain Thomas sighed. "Would you like a drink, Commander?" He stood and walked over to the bar. "It's vintage scotch."

  "No, thank you, Captain. I'd just like to know what's going on."

  The captain poured Tebrey a drink anyway and handed it to him as he returned to his chair.

  "A few weeks ago we had a couple of deaths that were related to something found down on the surface of the planet."

  "What made these deaths special?"

  "A number of factors. The identity of the victims, and the way in which they died."

  "Are you going to tell me, or do you want me to guess?"

  "One of them was the son of a prominent senator back on Earth."

  "You think he was killed for political reasons?"

  The captain scowled. "No, nothing like that. Look, this isn't exactly easy for me, Commander. I knew those two kids. They had a lot of promise. The science team was really shaken up about it. They almost packed up the whole mission."

  "But obviously they didn't. So tell me what happened."

  "I'll forward you the incident report. Basically, the students found something during the excavation. Some sort of weapon. It had been buried under thousands of years of sediment. The students somehow activated it, and it killed them. Everyone at that site took a nasty dose of radiation."

  "How many excavation sites are there?"

  "Just the two dig sites. Metallic artifacts have only been found at one of them, dig site beta. I've suspended excavations there until your team could be assembled."

  "Hmm. Have you been able to identify the race that created the artifact?"

  "No, that's one of the things that we were hoping your team could ascertain. Your file has you listed as being an expert in xenology and xenolinguistics, but it doesn't say what alien races you’re an expert with."

  Tebrey smiled. "I don't imagine it does. That information is classified, for obvious reasons."

  "You think that someone here is a spy, Commander? You don't trust me?"

  "It's not that at all, Captain. But it has little to do with what I think. Fleet Command has classified the information. I doubt you'll find much in there at all about my missions or capabilities. That kind of information is need-to-know, and you don't need to know."

  "I don't understand how we're supposed to integrate you into our work here if we don't know what you're capable of."

  "If I get in over my head, I'll be sure to let you know, Captain. My team should be arriving anytime. I'm sure they will be bringing addition orders for me. In the meantime, I'd like to inspect the two excavation sites, get a feel for what's going on down there. I'd like access to all of the data that has been gathered, as well."

  "You can go down to the primary dig site tomorrow with the science team."

  "I'd like access to both sites."

  "The second site has been closed until Dr. Anderson can get a handle on what happened to those two students."

  "Then he'll have to reopen it."

  "I don't think Dr. Anderson is going to be very pleased by that prospect, Commander, and he is very well connected, politically. My advice is work with him, not against him. You don't want him for an enemy."

  "Captain, I know that scientists often don't get along well with the military, but there is a war on, and it isn't going well for us. The Nurgg have advanced weapons, hundreds if not thousands of years in advance of ours. We need everything we can get. If there are weapons down there that can be used to defeat the Nurgg, we need to find them and use them. Tell Anderson that he doesn't have any choice. Believe me when I say that he shouldn't try to hinder my investigation, because I don't care how well connected he is. If he interferes with me in any way, he'll find that life will get very difficult for him."

  Chapter Two

  Tebrey stood on a low hill overlooking the alpha dig site and breathed in the clean, pure air of a non-industrialized world. All day he had walked around, nodding to the marines standing guard and watching over the shoulders of the archaeologists who were extracting artifacts. It was his second day on the surface of the planet, and he found it refreshing to be on a planet and not having to worry about being shot. He usually didn't have time to enjoy the blue skies and wild green landscapes on the worlds he visited. He tried not to think about it, but often he had trouble remembering his life before the military.

  He called up to the ship for a progress report, but there was still no word on the rest of the military science team. All of the rest of the team had been aboard the Fleet courier FSS Martlet, which was now three days overdue. The ship had left Klorstan Station, at Bernard's Star, on February 3rd. If it did not arrive within the next four days, the Martlet would be declared lost. He didn't know what he'd do then. Fleet Command might send another team, or it might not.

  There had always been ships lost in hyperspace, dating back to the first interstellar ship, the doughty Endeavor, lost forever. Hyperspace was a dangerous place, but the Earth Federation was losing a lot more ships than could be attributed to natural variations in hyperspace or mechanical failure. No one knew why. Some of the ships just vanished. Some showed up with the crews driven mad, and some ended up like the Kirov. There was no official explanation, but he knew what was happening. He'd been there. Not that anyone believed him.

  Tebrey shivered at his dark thoughts. Fleet Command hadn't believed what he'd told them. The nearly endless sessions with psychologists were evidence of that. There were times when even he doubted what had happened. He'd asked to see the recording from his armor's displays, but he'd been told his suit was too damaged to retrieve the data. He didn't believe it, but what could he do?

  The archaeologists had autonomous excavation machines set up in a metal-lattice grid pattern across a hundred-meter square. Each machine covered a two-meter square and carefully dug through the layers, dating and cataloging as they sifted away the dirt. The data was sent to the computers that had been set up under a prefab awning, and the computers created a three-dimensional model of each cube of dirt. Artifacts would cause the excavation machines to pause until one of the scientists could give them permission to extract.

  It all looked very efficient, but Tebrey was a little disappointed that the scientists weren't crawling around on the ground with little brushes and trowels like they did in the entertainment vids. This just didn't seem like archaeology to him.

  So far, he hadn't seen anything that really warranted his presence. He watched as the scientists extracted some broken sherds of pottery from one grid and what looked to him like an old boot from another. He had his suspicions that they weren't telling him everything. H
e'd have to do a little discreet investigating when he got back up to the ship.

  Sergeant McGee gestured him over as he turned to walk back to the shuttle.

  "What can I do for you, Sergeant?" Tebrey asked.

  "Oh, nothing too important, sir. I just thought you might appreciate a wee nip, is all," he said with a twinkle in his eye. He was surreptitiously holding a small liquor flask.

  Tebrey didn't really want any, but took a sip anyway. He'd never been much of a drinker, but the whiskey in the flask was very good. "Thank you, McGee." He gestured at the laser rifle the sergeant carried. "Had to use that here?"

  "No, sir," the sergeant replied. "We've seen some evidence of large carnivores around, though." He shrugged. "So it never hurts to be prepared." He took a swig from his flask and tucked it back into his field jacket.

  They stood together and admired the breathtaking view from the dig site. The alpha site was near to where the scientists thought the original colonists had landed, on a high grassy plateau with a fringe of trees around the slopes and scattered in patches across the top. The excavations were near the western edge, and Tebrey could see for kilometers out across the lower forests and plains. To the north, majestic mountains reared to their snow-capped heights. A brisk wind that he found somewhat uncomfortable blew up the slope. He wasn't used to being on the surface of a planet without his armor on, and the dim sunlight provided him with little warmth.

  Dr. Anderson watched Tebrey warily. He would, of course, be saddened by the loss of the Martlet if it was truly lost, but he had to admit that he was happy the rest of the military team wouldn't be arriving. The military attaché they had gotten was too smart to be fooled for long by their stalling. To make matters worse, many of the scientists seemed to be getting quite comfortable with having him around. Anderson had to admit that the man had a certain presence, but he was military through and through. He knew, though, that anything that had military potential would be confiscated, and the entire dig would be classified. Sooner or later, the science team was going to have to let the attaché in on everything that they'd found, but Anderson wanted a little longer to gauge his reactions. They would have to find some way to convince him to allow them to keep digging.