The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2) (3 page)

“—the law doesn’t exist?” I interrupted.

“Not exactly. The XO is legal but some portions of it are top secret.”

Ortega slid a notebook-sized padd across the desk to me. On it was the outline of a hand. I pressed my hand over the padd. It beeped. “That’s it, you’re good to go.”

He retrieved the padd, tapped the screen once, then and held out his hand. “Welcome to the UNSC Defense Force, son. Or, as we prefer to call it, the
Navy
.”

I stood and took his hand. His grip was like a vice! Having finally completed the task, I didn’t think Ortega would mind, so I glanced at my watch:
16 missed calls
and
dozens
of texts.

“Whoa! Something’s up,” I said, pulling out the phone and calling back. Most of the calls were from my buddy, Brad. My weekend wingman.

He answered immediately. I said, “Dude, what’s the freakin emergen—”

“You watching the news?” he said, deadpan. This gave me a cold chill, coming from him.

“Uh, no, I’m . . . doing something,” I said, lamely.

Brad didn’t reply for a few seconds, then, “Man, something’s going on. My dad was just called in. They’re calling in the reserves and guard.”

“Wait, where are you?” I asked.

“Stanford. Tech conference, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. What? They’re calling in the guard too? Why?”

“Oh, no! Shit, no, no, no!” Brad yelled.

I held the phone away from my face and gave Ortega a bewildered look. He was on his phone too, his brows furrowed. Something was terribly
wrong
.

“Brad? Calm down. What’s going on?”

“
Shiiit!
What the fuck is—”

I heard static for a second before we were cut off.

Ortega ran to the office door and threw it open, then sprinted out, leaving me behind. I followed him out of the recruitment office. Everyone in the lobby was shouting and running, most using their phones and watches. There was no public video screen in this building, so I headed outside. As I walked toward the doors, I flipped open a news channel and saw an unbelievable sight on the screen.

A mushroom cloud billowing into the air.

A cold sweat came over me and I began to hyperventilate.

Where was it?

Chapter 2
Farmer In The Sky

“
I’ve got the derelict
on the scope now. Just coming up on the horizon,” Jazdie said.

Jazdie was a second-generation Lunie with an uncanny knack for cooking up good meals with limited supplies. At age eighteen, she had few social skills after growing up on a farm where she had worked since she could walk. The farm sat under a dome on the Moon, bathed in ultraviolet light and watered from locally mined water-ice. Her parents were engineers with their own water purification plant to manage and crops to tend.

Jazdie was born in Kepler crater at the colony now known as Luna City, along with her three brothers. She was delivering a shipment of food to a buyer at the starport one day when the Black Dahlia was in port. The ship’s medic, Cyril—a dashing young man with a contagious smile—had sweet talked her into his bunk after giving her a tour of the bridge and engine room, telling her all about their adventures in space. She was spellbound by his sophistication—Earth-born, traveler far and wide, and exotic accent.

The Black Dahlia rarely left the vicinity of the Moon, but even that was high adventure to a farm girl. Jazdie had the body of a young Lunie: tall, thin, and pale, with hardly a freckle. She kept her black hair in the current Lunie style—short in the back, bangs in the front, and a bit more length in front of her ears. Most kids dyed their hair, but Jazdie got plenty of attention with true black. She was exotic, black on white. A bit dusty looking from long years of working the land.

First-generation Lunies and their kids had had to cope with low gravity before gravity plating became affordable. The old Kepler base was originally a Seerva scientific outpost—which made history as the first manned settlement on the Moon. It evolved from its humble roots to a booming population of six hundred and thirty.

To Cyril’s surprise, it was Jazdie who had taught
him
a few new things that night—despite her humble upbringing. Lunie kids were not only adventurous, they were
smart
.

“Never allow yourself to be put into a situation where you have no choice,” her mom always told her. She knew what her mom was implying. That hadn’t stopped her from exploring her options around Luna City, and she had found the locals . . .
dull
.

There was no work contract. Jazdie had simply cooked a meal for the captain, and that was that—she was offered a half-share. With the promise of promotion if she proved to be trustworthy and hard working.

Jazdie was gone for a week before her parents even noticed she was gone. She was not only of age but had programmed a robot to take over supervision of her crops. Lunies often slept in the field, staring up at the domed sky. There were no pesky insects—only bees. No wild animals. Hardly any
wind
. She often slept in the dirt between rows if she couldn’t find a patch of imported grass. Farming on the moon was so easy, if Earth farmers could see what Lunie farmers had to do to produce a crop they would revolt. Fortunately for Earth, food was produced by a conglomerate of multinational corporations—
legal
monopolization of a global industry.

The Black Dahlia closed on the derelict and quickly attached to the only airlock hatch on the other ship, near the front. It was a smaller ship by freighter standards. The inner airlock hatch was open as she worked the controls for the outer hatch.

“We have to hurry! It’s an open contract!” Captain Reilly said. “
Anyone
could be closing in and we wouldn’t see them until they’re right on top of us.”

Jazdie flinched. It was not like the captain to yell. She must be anxious. “Uh, yes, captain. I’m . . . trying to. . . .”

“Get out of the way, girl!” Phix said, pulling her away from the hatch inside the small airlock.

Jazdie was so small that she went flying through the short corridor and sprawled onto the deck eight feet back.

“Phix, you asshole!” Cyril said while picking her up.

Phix opened the hatch and stepped back to allow the captain through. Cyril grabbed him by the neck and threw him up against the bulkhead. “Don’t you ever touch her again! Do you hear me?”

Phix stared at him for a moment, eyes blazing. Then, he shrugged. “Okay. Sorry, girl. You were taking too damn long, that’s all.”

“It would do you well,” Cyril said, releasing his grip on the other man’s throat, “to learn some civility.”

“Whatever you say, man. I don’t get what you see in that waif, though.”

Jazdie walked up to Phix as if about to say something, and instead, kicked him solidly between the legs, causing him to rise a couple inches. “It’s not enough that you physically assault me, you have to insult me too? Don’t touch me again, motherf—”

“Whoa! Hold on there!” Captain Reilly had stepped back through the airlock hatch. Phix was lying on the deck, hands between his legs, moaning.

“You saw what he did to her, captain,” Cyril said. “He chased a fake apology with an insult. Now he’ll need an ice pack for his juevos.”

“Ooohhh!” Phix moaned, rolling back and forth on the deck.

“Phix, get up, goddammit! Get your ass in there and start salvaging.”

He slowly stood, leaning against the bulkhead for a moment, and then penguin-hobbled into the attached ship, giving Cyril and Jazdie a wide berth.

“Just what we need, an enemy in close quarters,” Cyril whispered into Jazdie’s ear, stroking a lock of hair hanging down over her cheek. She kissed him hard.

“If you don’t mind,” the soft-spoken Locke said, standing behind Jazdie, “I’d like to get started on salvage?”

“Thought you were downstairs, Locke,” Cyril said.

On a small ship like the Black Dahlia, there were no secrets among the crew, and they often shared more than just meals.

“Heard the commotion,” Locke said, trying to squeeze sideways past Jazdie into the narrow airlock passage. She leaned back, pressing her shapely behind against him as he passed. She leaned back a couple inches, pushing Locke against the wall.

“Oops,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder.

Locke’s eyes went wide as he looked up at Cyril, worried about the other man’s reaction. Cyril just raised his eyebrows, amused.

“Um, right, look, ma’am,” Locke said as he gently held her hips in his hands while trying to slide away.

Jazdie laughed loudly, her head pressed against Cyril’s chest and her hands patting him on the shoulders. “A madam, he says!” Then she looked over her shoulder and smiled at Locke. “You appear compromised, sir. And . . . oh,
my
. . . do I feel something?”

Locke turned a bright shade of red as he squeezed past her into the hatch, swearing under his breath. “Pardon me.”

“Uh! Did you hear that,
mon amour
?” she said, looking at Cyril with her arms around his shoulders.

“You’re so bad,” Cyril told her, pushing her away by the shoulders. “I had no idea. . . .”

“My dear man,” she said, “do you know how
boring
farm work is? And, did you know that
soil
and
water
are what I’ve done my entire life? A girl has to make up for lost time.”

“Lost time? You’re practically still a—”

“Don’t say it!” she yelled, fire in her eyes. “Age of consent is sixteen on Luna.”

Captain Reilly came through the hatch just then.

“Ah, captain,” Cyril said, more for Jazdie’s benefit than an informal salute, and composed himself.

“Look, uh . . . I don’t have any problem with you two being . . . together,” Reilly said. “But, I must insist that you keep that shit to yourselves, in private quarters. This ship is too small as it is, I can’t have that kind of behavior out in the open. Understood?”

“Yes, captain,” they both said, sounding subdued.

“Good. Now, Jazdie, get to the helm and monitor the scope. I want to know immediately if another ship comes into range. Tap into Luna City’s array and get a position on all traffic in orbit. I want no surprises!”

“Aye, aye, cap’n!” Jazdie said.

“And you,” Reilly said, pointing to Cyril, “into the docked ship, get to work!”

“Right away,” Cyril said.

Captain Reilly stepped back through the hatch behind Cyril, noting how similar the systems were to the Black Dahlia’s own.

“Reilly,” Locke said from the rear hatch, “the cargo bay has been vented, nothing but vacuum. Whatever this ship was hauling is long gone now.”

“Damn,” Reilly said. She sat in one of the two control seats in the middle of the bridge. “I don’t know how anyone can live like this,” she said while kicking trash out of the way. Reilly punched several buttons, flicked switches, but nothing happened.

“I don’t get it,” Cyril said, wiping something gooey off his hand with a rag. “If the hold is gone, and the cabin is still pressurized . . . .”

“Where’s the pilot?” Reilly suggested.

“Exactly,” Cyril agreed.

“Yeah, well, this rig is dead in space, and she’s not going anywhere, either. Fuel was purged with the cargo, and the engines are dead,” Phix said, still hunching over from the lingering pain. “We’re breathing leftover air and whatever comes through the hatch from the B-D.”

“So this was just a waste of time. Not so much as a peanut here,” Cyril said.

“How do we blow it without fuel tanks?” Reilly asked.

“I don’t recommend—” Phix was about to say when he was interrupted.

Locke said, “Look at this!” from the rear of the tiny bridge.

“What is it?” Reilly demanded, already impatient from the lack of salvage.

“Uh, I . . . have no idea,” he stammered.

“What are you talking about?” Cyril asked, as they all took a few steps toward Locke in the rear corner.

“It looks like a mannequin,” Locke said.

“The hell?” Reilly said, kneeling down to examine it. A mannequin should have a smooth surface, while this humanoid . . .
thing
. . . was dark gray and had strange line indents on its surface. “Help me lift it up.”

She and Locke each took an arm and lifted.

“It’s
heavy
!” Reilly said. “Must be some kind of robot.”

“You know, I’ve heard rumors about these back home,” Locke said. “Never seen one myself, though.”

It stood upright on its own once its feet and legs were oriented correctly, although the joints appeared to be capable of articulation.

“What do you make of that, Phix?” Reilly said.

“We have incoming!” Jazdie yelled through the fully-open airlock, which was being used as an access hallway rather than as intended. It was dangerous, but Reilly pushed the limits of safety to eke a living out of salvage work.

Reilly jogged back to the hatch. “What is it?”

“A blip came over the horizon. I didn’t think anything of it, but now it’s heading straight for us!” Jazdie said.

“
Shiiit
, we’ve gotta move,” Reilly said. “Okay, you two, get this
thing
over to the B-D. We’ll figure it out later. Locke, get to your station. We might have to fight our way out of this.”

Locke trotted through the airlock and jumped into a chair on the left side of the bridge, half surrounded by display screens. The captain appeared behind Jazdie to look at the RADAR data.

Phix and Cyril hauled the robot to the hatch at the rear of the bridge, then closed the airlock.

“They must be pushing their engines,” Locke said. “They’re shifting orbit, heading straight for us rather than waiting for the orbit to bring them around to a better position.”

“In other words, they’re ignoring the fuel cost,” Reilly said.

“Right.”

“Not good! Not good at all! Ident?” Reilly demanded.

“Nothing,” Locke said.

Reilly sat in her command chair and tapped a few buttons on her armrest padd. A moment later, it beeped at her.

“Attention unknown vessel, this is Captain Reilly of the Black Dahlia. We’re conducting a legal salvage of this derelict and do not need . . . or want . . . your assistance. In other words, bugger off.”

She hit the send button. A reply beep sounded almost instantly. She pressed the receive button to open a live channel.

“Reilly, huh? Well, whaddya know. So nice to hear a familiar voice. Now, power down your engines and I’ll only take your cargo, not your lives.”

“Drake. Lovely,” Reilly said sarcastically.

“Is he serious?” Jazdie asked.

“Dead serious,” Reilly said, deadpan. “Let’s get the hell out of here! Locke, punch it!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Locke said, frantically hitting buttons and adjusting power levels.

The ship surged to life, taking them all by surprise with sudden acceleration.

“Who is this guy . . .
Drake
?” Jazdie asked.

“You don’t wanna know,” Locke said.

“I kind of
do
, actually,” she replied.