“Yes, sir.”

  He took over the terminal, sitting on the provided stool and swiping his wrist over the reader to log into his mailbox. Even he only had a couple of messages, one from Okoye, which he expected. One from Doctor Rose, which he didn’t.

  He opened her message first. It was a simple thank you for taking the time to consider her request and an expression of faith that he would make the decision that was best for all of humankind. He glowered at that part, her choice of words intentionally dripping with butter.. He had to believe all of her efforts to convince him to let her enter the alien object were coming from a passion to solve the mystery of the trife and help Earth. He had to believe her motives were pure. Even so, he didn’t like the way she was not-so-subtly nudging him in one direction.

  “Captain Grant, sir.” Tyson closed the message and glanced over at the cup of coffee Spaceman Chu put down beside the control pad. “Brewed fresh and steaming hot.”

  Tyson leaned forward to breathe in the aroma. “Thank you, Spaceman. I appreciate your kindness.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, sir.” Chu remained standing beside Tyson as he took a sip of the coffee, the heat stinging his tongue. A little weak, but drinkable.

  He put the cup back down and looked at Chu again. “Do you need something, spacer?”

  “Well, sir, I’m sorry to bother you about this,” Chu said, “but I heard a rumor we had additional contact with another xenotype. Is that true?”

  Tyson was surprised by the question. It was unusual for a seaman, spaceman or otherwise to ask him a question like that. Then again, it was unusual for him to be sleeping over that spaceman’s head. It was clear the man was nervous about what he had heard. This was a good chance to help calm anyone who had heard the rumor by replacing it. “Yes, it’s true. We made contact with an alien craft yesterday. The craft and its contents were hostile, but our Guardians neutralized the threat. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Chu turned and walked away.

  Tyson returned to the terminal. He clicked on Okoye’s message, opening the attached report. He skipped past all the medical terminology he didn’t understand down to the Doctor’s findings, written closer to laymen’s terms. Guardian Nori suffered damage to his heart, he already knew that. The damage would make it impossible for him to enter stasis without a high risk of heart failure. They couldn’t repair it outside Metro because they didn’t have the proper medical supplies. But Metro did.

  Tyson leaned back in the seat. There was only one obvious course. Nori was an exemplary Marine, who had remained committed despite his family’s presence in the city. He couldn’t possibly pardon Levi for bad behavior and not reward Nori for good.

  At the same time, what would the repercussions of having both former Marines in the city be like? Would they butt heads, or would they come back to one another as brothers in arms?

  It didn’t matter. If he had stuck himself in the middle of something with his decisions, so be it. He wouldn’t make a good leader for the people on Avalon if he second-guessed every choice he made.

  He tapped out a reply to Okoye.

  Guardian Nori is reassigned to Metro. Have him ready to join the rest of the crew for transfer at thirteen hundred hours.

  He sent the message and closed his session, logging out of the terminal, taking another sip of the coffee and then getting to his feet. He just hoped Nash wouldn’t come back at him about stasis in exchange for helping Nori’s condition.

  Knowing the Governor, he would. Bastard. He was the potential, unnecessary wrench in the machine.

  Tyson carried his coffee with him as he headed out of the berth and into the passageway. He rubbed at his face, feeling the stubble there and trying to remember where he had left his razor. With Siraj on the bridge, he recalled. He didn’t want to go there just yet.

  He had a change of uniform stowed in one of the common lockers in berthing, and he went to it and picked out new underclothes. He didn’t see the need to change everything, not when there were only so many service uniforms available. He took the clothes across to the community showers, slightly nervous as he stripped naked and stepped in with the other three crew members already present. Normally, his rank would put him above such things. Not here.

  He knew the others noticed and recognized him, but they also did their best not to show it, finishing their quick showers and leaving him by himself. He didn’t linger either. He had spent years on ships. He knew not to waste anything. He finished up and toweled off, starting to dress as another spacer came in.

  “Oh. Captain Grant,” she said, blushing at the sight of his bare chest. Not that he was anything special to look at. The muscle of his youth had mostly turned to flab. “Sir.”

  “At ease, spacer,” he replied. “I need a shower like everybody else.”

  “Yes, sir.” She offered a sheepish smile and put her clothes down on the bench opposite him, intentionally moving more slowly in the hope he would be gone before she started to strip. He was sure she was accustomed to sharing the showers with male spacers, but he was different.

  He dressed quickly, finishing by the time she was getting down to her bra and panties. “Have a good day, spacer,” he said without looking as he left the area.

  Tyson still wasn’t ready to head to the bridge. He had made a decision about Nori, but there was still the matter of the alien object latched to Pioneer’s hull. Nobody had pinged him while he slept, which was a good sign. It meant the object still hadn’t shown any signs of activity. Oslo and his team had come up with a bit of a hack to keep eyes on the thing at all times, updating the software in two of the spacesuits so they could operate without anyone inside. Tran and Sykes had brought them out and both maglocked and tethered them to the hull. Now they looked like scarecrows out there, trying to ward off whatever might emerge from the alien shell.

  Which so far was nothing else. He was grateful for that.

  Doctor Rose wanted him to send the Guardians back inside to collect a sample of the membrane that attacked Joseph and Morales. As best anyone could tell the thing was dead and getting that sample could really be helpful for the UN’s research team. But looks could be deceiving, and their understanding of the alien was bordering on nil. While the trife had opened their eyes to a whole different type of organism, this object clearly wasn’t a life form that even remotely resembled anything they were accustomed to. Hell, they still didn’t know if the living goop was part of the rocky exterior like a clam or if it had taken over the rock like a hermit crab and was simply flying an exotic alien spacecraft. Tyson snorted at the idea. For all they knew, the thing wasn’t organic at all, but some kind of advanced artificial intelligence.

  They were completely in the dark, figuratively and literally. It made logical sense to get Rose her sample in the hopes she could also get them some answers. At the same time, he had already lost two Guardians and had almost lost two more. If the thing was simply dormant, sending more of Joseph’s team in there could get more of his people killed, and he wasn’t eager to do that. Besides, how would Rose and her people understanding the thing help them? How would it help Earth? The trife were the problem back home, not alien clams. His order from Admiral Walt was to put Pioneer ahead of everything. Going back into the object, risking his Guardians, ran counter to those orders.

  Still, it was hard for him to just abandon Earth. Billions had died and millions were still trapped on the planet. The generation ships in production would carry close to a million people total. Enough to start new colonies in hopes one or more of them would survive. Not nearly enough to take everyone left behind.

  If he were someone else, maybe the decision would be easier. A little more literal in his interpretation of orders. A little more compassionate. A little less stiff. A little less cautious. He had to remind himself Walt had put him in charge of Pioneer because Command believed in him, in his record and personality. In his approach to solving problems. He wasn’t sure he had it right, but second-guessing wouldn’t help either. With Levi, Nori or the object.

  He found an empty corridor and sat on the floor, leaning his head against the bulkhead and closing his eyes. He fantasized about the outcome of each decision, best and worst case, running the scenarios in his mind. It took some time, enough that he was surprised Rose didn’t ping his comm to ask him what he was going to do.

  Thirty minutes later, he opened his eyes, got to his feet and made for the bridge.

  He had his decision.

  36

  Cross

  Pioneer. Guardian Module. 11.12.2052. 0930 hours.

  Joseph emerged from the head in his barracks, a towel wrapped around his waist and still dripping from his shower. He padded barefoot down the passageway to his door, closing it behind him and making for his locker, pleased to find someone had stocked it with clean clothes. He quickly exchanged his wet towel for clean underwear and a fresh set of black utilities. New boots rested on the floor beside the locker. West must have either stocked his room or directed whoever did because everything was in his size. A perfect fit.

  He left his room, going back down the passage toward the galley. Four hours wasn’t a lot of sleep, but it had done him a world of good. While his body was still a little fatigued and sore, his mind was more focused—sharp and alert. He felt like he could form coherent thoughts again.

  The door opened as he approached, the voices reaching him the moment it began sliding away. They went silent a moment later as Private Bourne rose from the small table. “Attention!” he snapped. “Prime on deck.”

  The other Guardians stood at their seats, turning to face him and coming to attention. Hoffman, Turani and Alesso.

  Joseph stared at them. He wasn’t an officer. Nobody had ever stood for him when he entered a room before. Maybe he was in charge, and maybe that granted him some higher level of respect. A part of him wanted to tell them never to do it again. He could see the respect in their eyes and in their posture. They were proud to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to cut them down.

  “At ease,” he said, smiling slightly. “Hoffman, have you seen West?”

  “She left about an hour ago, Prime,” Hoffman replied as she sat back down. “She took the others with her. Security detail.”

  “We haven’t started security details yet.”

  “According to Second, we have,” Bourne said, the deep scar on his face leaving him with a crooked smile. “She said with what happened yesterday we couldn’t be too careful.”

  Joseph nodded. It was a good idea. One he might have come up with himself if he hadn’t been half unconscious by the time he got out of sickbay. “Is there a Thanksgiving Dinner anywhere in that pile?” he asked, motioning to the stack of MREs in the middle of the table, surrounded by a dozen wrappers and five half-empty coffee mugs.

  “Let me see,” Hoffman said, leaning over and pushing the bars around. He dug one out of the bottom and held it out to Joseph. “Here you go, Prime. I had one of those myself. Not half-bad.”

  “Not half-good either,” Turani said. “Tastes like chalk.”

  “They all taste like chalk,” Bourne said.

  “Thank you,” Joseph said, taking the bar. He held onto it while he moved around the table to the counter where the coffee maker sat, the carafe nearly empty. He grabbed a mug and dumped the remains of the coffee in it.

  “I remember Thanksgiving at my parent’s house,” Turani said. “Thirty-six of us at our height, three tables covered with every food you could imagine. Turkey, pot roast, fish. Four different kinds of pies. Something for everybody. Nobody was allowed to leave without taking something home with them.”

  “My family always did spaghetti for Thanksgiving,” Alesso said. “Antipasto, bread, a nice red wine. A bolognese for the meat lovers, a basil marinara for the vegetarians. It was Pietro, momma and papa, my sister Julietta and her husband Roberto.” She took her coffee mug and held it up. “To good memories.”

  “To good memories,” the others said, hoisting their mugs.

  “To good memories,” Joseph said. He tapped his mug against the others’, a chill running down his spine as his mind conjured a bad one, returning him to his sister hanging from her high chair. He shoved it away.

  “Prime, how’s Nori?” Bourne asked.

  All eyes turned to Joseph. The former MPs were as interested in his health as his Marines. They didn’t know Nori that well and probably never would. But they were still brothers and sisters in arms.

  “I saw him for a few minutes last night. He’s not in great shape. Odds are he’ll be headed to Metro after all.”

  He could feel the room deflate a little at the news.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Bourne said. The others agreed.

  “Hey, it’s not all bad. He’ll get to join his family there, as a hero no less. He nearly died for Pioneer.

  “To Niko,” Hoffman said, raising her mug.

  “To Niko,” the others replied, clanking them together.

  Joseph opened his MRE and took a big bite, chewing and swallowing as he retreated to the door. “When you’re done in here, I want this place spotless, the MREs stowed, the coffeemaker cleaned. Then I want you out in the CIC, keeping an eye on the others. Monitor their locations, check their feeds, get used to working the system. We’ve got two weeks to prep for stasis.”

  “It’ll be more than two weeks, won’t it, Prime?” Turani asked. “We stopped accelerating to deal with the squids.”

  “Regardless, we have at least two weeks to prepare. We shouldn’t need any more time.”

  “Copy that.”

  Joseph took a sip of the coffee. Strong, the way he liked it. He left the small galley, passing through the barracks to the CIC. He went over to the command station and sat down, putting his half-eaten MRE and his coffee on top of the display to his left. He used the control board to pull up a schematic of the ship on the primary display. Zoomed out fully, Pioneer looked like a pixel art pregnant whale, with Metro as its bastard fetus. The city took up over half the entire volume of the ship, a big open space surrounded by hundreds of smaller compartments and passageways. The only other area fully visible from the zoomed-out view was the main hangar, and it was easily dwarfed by the city’s massive womb.

  Joseph tapped the controls to activate the locating services. Immediately, five blue dots appeared on the grid. The isometric angle of the display placed the Guardians at different parts of the aft section on different levels, moving along passageways, pausing at compartments and running a basic patrol.

  He watched them for a few minutes, picking up on the pattern. He wanted to be impressed by their organization, but instead the activity left him with a sense of foreboding. The ship was too big for one person to keep an eye on at any given time. Twenty Guardians weren’t enough. Judging by the tiny blue dots in the guts of the whale, they needed a hundred or more.

  What had Command been thinking?

  He knew the answer already. Not enough stasis pods. They had assigned as many Guardians as they could support and it just had to be enough. Joseph didn’t know why they didn’t just let the people of Metro have the run of the ship. They could easily bolster the Guardian ranks to the thousands. He had heard something once about psychological studies on the effects of generational space travel, and a manual some think tank had created outlining how to give a ship like Pioneer the best chance of success. Somehow, cutting the population of civilians off from the rest of the ship was supposed to be a good idea.

  Staring at the lonely blue dots, he didn’t know how.

  It didn’t matter either. His mission was to protect Pioneer from harm. That was the beginning, middle and end of the story.

  He reached for the comm to ping West about the patrol. His hand was hovering over the control when his end flashed green. The bridge flashed green on the schematic at the same time, pinpointing the source of the communication.

  “This is Guardian Prime,” he said.

  “Prime,” Captain Grant said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, sir,” Joseph replied. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready for duty?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you near the elevator at oh nine-fifty hours.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Should I come alone or bring backup?”

  “Alone is fine, Prime. Grant out.”

  The green light vanished from the schematic and from the CIC’s main control board.

  Joseph tapped on the icon to trigger West’s comm. “Second, this is Prime.”

  “This is Second,” she replied a moment later. “How are you feeling, Prime?”

  “Better,” Joseph said.

  “I hope you don’t mind me getting the Guardians organized for you. I didn’t want to keep them idle too long.”

  “I appreciate the initiative. I’m meeting Grant near the elevators in a few minutes.”

  “What about?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it’s past time for his decision on Nori and the alien object. I hope it’s not to deliver bad news in person.”

  “I think he would have called you up to see him for that.”

  “You’re probably right. At least he didn’t ask me to bring my rifle.”

  West laughed. “Maybe you should bring it anyway.”

  “Or that pointy stick of yours. Is it in your quarters?”

  “Leave my sword alone. It’s not a toy, and you don’t know how to use it.”

  “Swing or stab. How hard can it be? Anyway, you’ve got the fort until I get back. I’ll put Hoffman in charge of the CIC while you’re still out on patrol.”

  “Copy that, Prime.”

  “We made it four hours without another catastrophe. Keep your fingers crossed we can manage a few more.”

  “Fingers and toes, Prime. Fingers and toes.”