Point of Origin (War Eternal Book 4) (7 page)

He considered opening the cabinet and taking a look through it. Instead, he returned his attention to the broken robots on the other side of the entrance to the library.

He had always been a good soldier. He had always followed the rules, followed orders, done the right thing. He had been a successful starship pilot before he had become a successful Admiral. He had earned the promotions because he was good at what he did, and he did it to the letter.

Then he had followed a false General Cornelius into Federation space and killed thousands of farmers. He had followed that up by breaking surrender protocol to escape from the Tetron. Now he was an Admiral taking orders from a Colonel because the military he had transferred to didn't give a shit about rank.

Mitchell had told him he couldn't go to the coordinates Katherine had provided for him, and Steven understood why. It was a long trip that might be for nothing, or might leave them separated by weeks of hyperspace with no way to reach one another. At the same time, as he retraced his steps and returned to the foyer to look down on the Tetron's creations once more, he had a feeling that Mitchell was wrong. After all, as Mitchell liked to repeat, he had always lost the war.
 

Was this the reason?

Was it the most important misstep he would make?

Steven tried not to believe that it was, but he wasn't convinced. The longer he stood there, the more he thought about it, the more certain he became.

Origin had tried to leave them something for a reason.
 

They needed it, and they needed it now.

Steven didn't wait for Mitchell to come back. He knew his little brother well enough to know that Mitch would still tell him he couldn't go, and he would do something stupid to stop him if he insisted.

No, if he was going to defy orders yet again, he was going to have to do it quietly.

He went back to Tio's hidden armory before he headed out, quickly going through it and taking a pair of sidearms and extra magazines for both, grabbing as much as he could carry without it being obvious. Then he walked out of Tio's home, taking a detour off to a darker part of the open space just in case Mitchell chose that moment to return. He considered his plan as he did.
 

He would need to get to the dock without anyone noticing, and find a ship there that would be suitable for the journey. He had no intention of robbing Mitchell of a starship that could aid him in a fight. He would have to find something else, like a true trawler or miner or something, one that was poorly prepared for a fight yet jump capable. Then he would have to convince the dock operator to release the clamps. That shouldn't be too hard.

At that point, he would make the jump out to the coordinates. If there were something there that he could take, he would. If there were nothing, he would turn around and come back. He would have to hope that Mitchell decided to leave him some indication of where they might be going, and that the Tetron either hadn't returned to Asimov or had come and gone again.
 

If Mitchell didn't leave him directions and Asimov was still there, he would return to the station and try to figure out where his brother had gone. Failing in that, he would wait there for Mitchell to return to claim the prize.

What if Asimov was gone? He tried not to think about that possibility. No directions, no station? Whether he was carrying anything or not, that result could be disastrous. He decided he would wait it out in the ship he stole. If he ran out of food before Mitchell came back or if Mitchell never came back, so be it.

At least he would have tried.

He took an alternate route back to the quarters he and his crew had been given on their arrival. He felt a pang of regret and failure at the fact that he was going to be abandoning them, and at the same time he knew that his willingness to leave them meant he was resolved. Besides, John was a good man and a good First Mate. He would take care of the Carver for him.

He made it to his room without incident, dropping the weapons he had taken on the bed and quickly shedding the uniform he had worn to Millie's memorial. He stepped through the sonic to have the grime removed and then changed into the Navy fatigues he had brought with him. Nobody would question his decision to get more comfortable before he continued with his work.

He also grabbed his duffel, throwing the guns and magazines in it, along with a pair of grays to cover them if he had to open the duffel for any reason. Finally, he went back into the bathroom and shaved off his beard.

He stood and stared at himself in the mirror. He barely recognized himself without the growth around his mouth and hanging from his chin. He looked younger, but also less dignified. He laughed at himself.

"I look like an uglier, balder, older version of Mitch," he said.

 
He gave himself one last look, staring into his own eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked himself.

He nodded. He was. He turned away from the mirror, grabbing the duffel from the bed and heading out the door. He made his way through the hallways and out to the front of the building.

Captain Rock was going in as he was going out.

"Admiral," John said.

"John," Steven replied. "Going to crash for the few hours until morning?"

John smiled. "I figured an hour or two of sleep never hurt anyone." He tilted his head, staring at Steven. "You shaved your beard."

Steven rubbed his hand against his bare chin. It still felt strange. "Yeah."

"Why? It took you months to grow that thing."

"It just seemed like the right thing to do. It'll grow back. Anyway, I'm headed back to Tio's to continue the work I was doing with Mitch. Enjoy the shut-eye."

John continued to stare at him. Steven could feel his heart rate going up. His best friend knew there was something off about him.

"Yeah, okay," John said. "Well, goodnight, sir."

Steven swallowed heavily, feeling the tension building as John ducked his head and started making his way past him. He hated lying in general. Lying to his friend was even harder.

"Damn it, John," he said, reaching out and grabbing his Captain's arm. He moved in close, speaking quietly. "I'm leaving Asimov."

"What?" John said, a little too loud. He repeated it in a whisper. "What?"

"Mitchell told me that he got something in the Construct. Coordinates to something that Origin thought would help us. I offered to go and check it out, and he said no."

"And you're going anyway?" John asked.

"He doesn't want us to split up. He's right that he needs to get ahead of Watson, but he's wrong to think that I need to go with him. I don't want him to screw humanity because of it."

"And you were going to, what? Hop into a transport and ride off in the Carver?"

"Don't be stupid. I was hoping there would be a less valuable ship I could take."

"He won't let you leave."

"Which is why I'm trying to leave quietly. He needs this. He just doesn't know it yet."

"Are you sure it's him that needs this?"

"What does that mean?"

"Just that I know you, Steve. You hate sitting and waiting for things to happen. Add to that the fact that your family is in harm's way, and there you go."

"Okay, I need this too. I can't stand the idea of human civilization ending because we didn't make a hyperspace jump."

"How far out is it?"

"Three weeks."

"Shit, Steve. That's far."

"I know, I know."

"Mitch won't be here by the time you get back. Heck, Asimov probably won't be here."

"I know that, too. It's a risk, but at least I'm only risking myself and a single ship."

John shook his head. "No. You aren't just risking yourself. I'm coming with you."

"No. John, you can't. I need you to command the Carver."

"Lewis can handle the Carver."

"I want it to be you. I also don't want to be responsible for you dying. You have someone back home, too."

"Who is just as in harms way as Laura and Terry. I'm coming."

"No. That's an order."

"Take your orders and shove them, Steve. You know rank doesn't play here."

Steven stared at his friend. He knew John would never let him go alone. He also knew in the back of his mind that was why he had told him.

"Fine. Grab your gear and meet me at the docks in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir," John said. "You promise you won't leave without me?"

Steven spread his hands in submission. "I promise. You're a good friend, John."

"I know it. I'll see you there."

The docks were busier than Steven had expected. The evacuation of Asimov was well underway, with ships arranged along the main hub such that they could be maneuvered into position against the loading bays when it was their turn. A large trawler was already attached to the primary loading area while a dropship was hooked to the secondary. Dozens of Tio's people moved through the space with purpose, leaving him barely noticed in the chaos.

He leaned against the wall, trying to remain as inconspicuous as someone who was just standing there could be. He held his duffel slung over his shoulder, casting his eyes back and forth, making it obvious he was waiting for something.

"Sorry," John said, materializing out of a group of techs. He was surprisingly capable of blending in despite his heavyset appearance and the Navy fatigues he was wearing. "I ran into Lewis on the way down."

"Did you say anything?"

"About this? No, but the story I made up for what I was doing was lame."

"Let's hope he doesn't tell anyone. Come on."

They walked the length of the corridor towards the control station. It would be a good vantage point to use to find a suitable ship.
 

Then all they would have to do was steal it.

"Are you sure you're sure about this?" John whispered.

"Do you have a better idea? You know Mitch won't listen."

"You're his big brother. I think you could convince him."

"Do you want to risk Bill's life on it?"

"Fine, but look at this place. They've got over forty ships crammed into a space that was meant to hold thirty-six at most, and there are people everywhere. How are we going to sneak out?"

Steven shrugged. "I don't know yet. We have to take it one step at a time."

"Great plan, Admiral."

They reached the entrance to the control station. It slid aside at their approach, the security systems all shut down to provide easier access during the evacuation. There were three people in the room, each wearing headsets and communicating with the captains of the various ships. One of them, a short woman with long gray hair, turned around when they entered.

"Did you come to relieve me?" she asked. "It's been fourteen hours."

That was a long time to be guiding this kind of traffic.
 

"No. Sorry," Steven said, moving past her to look out at the ships. Only the smaller vessels would even fit in here, which meant there were only a few that were jump capable in the mix.

"Then what are you doing here?" the woman asked.

Steven froze, trying to think of a good excuse.

"Selecting ships for inspection," John said, saving him. "Colonel Williams asked us to make sure the cargo bays were being loaded efficiently."

"Oh. Do you think you could ask the Colonel to find someone to replace us and give us a break? We're dead on our feet."

Steven nodded. "I'll mention it to him when I make my report. It will probably be at least another hour, though."

She didn't look happy about that, but she nodded and turned back around, hitting a button. "This is Control."

Steven scanned the docking arms, positioned in rows and columns around them. There were a lot of ships in the space, and they were almost uniformly old and worn, with dented metal plating and scorch marks suggesting their more illicit use.
 

"What about that one?" John said, pointing at one of the most beat-up ships in the dock. It was also one of the largest with hyperspace engines.

"No," Steven replied without offering any further reason.