No Easy Day

[Jane Hartman]

Open Space
Kepler System

Stars hung impartially beyond the Rhino's windows, stationary against the black sky. Gazing out at them, it was easy to forget just how quickly the freighter was moving. What meaning did human measurements, even thousands of kilometers, hold in comparison to the light-years that separated systems? Even the might of battleships seemed insignificant in comparison to the sheer scale of the universe.

"You ever hear of Thresher, Lewis?" Hartman flicked the autopilot on and twisted in her seat, pivoting to face Lewis. "There was an Ensign back at West Point I knew once, real ancient history buff. Spent every spare minute reading accounts from before settlement." A ghost of a smile darted across her face at the memory. It faded just as quickly as she continued. "Thresher was an attack submarine, back when navies still sailed on oceans. Lead ship of its class, with a crew of one hundred and twenty nine.

It went down a few years after launch. Dove too deep during a test and the systems that were meant to haul it back to the surface failed. When they finally found it on the ocean floor what was left of the sub was in pieces. Too much pressure, the boat crumpled like a tin can. Never did find the crew." She kept her voice terse, words filing out like the pages of a report. Those people, and the world they had inhabited, were long dead or forgotten. Still, imagining their fate, trapped in a slowly failing coffin with no line home, sent shivers running down her spine. "The boat was listed as 'on eternal patrol.' It's still there, in the registry. Not much of an end, but it was all the people then could've done. They tried to bring them home and failed.

I think we owe our people that much, don't you? Maybe we can't bring them all home, but I'll be damned if I'll give up trying." Hartman tapped the Rhino's display, calling up a registry entry. The Rhino was old and cheap enough to predate holographic displays so the image simply fuzzed into existence on the ship's screens, an old overlord class dreadnought entering a trade lane, fighter screen powering on just ahead, Alabama proudly emblazoned on the warship's hull. "You're looking at the last recorded image of Alabama, leaving to patrol Kepler. She stopped radioing in a week later. Officially, she's on eternal patrol, same as Thresher." She didn't need to add 'unofficially.' Lewis knew her better then that.

"Don't go getting your hopes up. The ship was lost. Just ain't too many people who know where to find it. Far as I know, I'm the only one who isn't likely to shoot someone before I tell them." She swiped the screen, closing the registry entry and calling up a nav map. "Thing is, there's another jump point in-system, out past the Matsuo cloud." She tapped the appropriate point on the map for emphasis. "Far as I can guess, Alabama and her escorts stumbled on that jump point and were attacked and destroyed when they reached the other side.

The other side of that hole's a Xeno strongpoint. I don't know how or when they built it, but it's been there for as long as I've known about the jump point. Same with Alabama's wreck." Boots hit the ground with a clunk as Hartman stepped out of her chair, eyeing the growing black cloud approaching the ship. Dark matter. The cloud had seemed welcoming, once. Now it just made her feel like a thief in a cemetery. "That's where I want to go. There's still sailors aboard Alabama, and I'd like-" She paused, seemingly surprised at her own momentary loss of composure. She gave a minuscule shake of her head and pushed on. "I mean to say, it would be good if someone else knew where to find them. I meant to bring them home, one day, when all this was done. I still do. But doing it now would' raise questions I just don't have answers for, and with Gallia at the door, well... We'll win. I know we will, but it's hard to know who'll be coming home. If I don't, Lewis, someone else needs to be there for that crew. I'd ask that it's you, and I'd ask that you see them first."

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