She was going into danger; Jax and General Holm and all of them were. They’d lived most of their lives in the line of fire, doing what had to be done. But in her mind, Erik wasn’t just going into danger – he was committing suicide. Everyone in the Alliance, all those born on Earth, at least, feared Alliance Intelligence. Real dissent or civil disobedience was rare in the Alliance, but still there were stories – many of them deliberately spread by the intelligence agency itself. People who were taken to that building didn’t return.
The thought of actually breaking into Intelligence HQ was unthinkable – a modern version of passing through the gates of hell. Yet that is just what Erik was going to do – break in, find the most guarded prisoner in the Alliance, and escape…not just from the building, but from Earth itself.
Why him? Her thoughts were bitter, though she tried to control it. She knew intellectually that they had to try to rescue the admiral, and she was sure no one had a better chance than Erik. But logic and rationalizations didn’t change the fact that the odds were long - very long indeed. The fact was, she would most likely never see the love of her life again.
She pushed the painful thoughts back, trying to focus on how she would manage things once they were on Columbia. Her team was small; they were taking a big risk going to Columbia, and she’d only approached people she really trusted. At least ones she thought would keep their mouths shut if they turned her down. She didn’t have to worry about that, at least – no one turned her down. Not after she showed them the video from Columbia. She wasn’t sure how much difference they would make in the overall conflict, but she knew they could save some lives. Hopefully they wouldn’t save them just so they could mount the scaffold – a real possibility if the rebellion was defeated.
It was quiet in the wardroom, not a sound except the ever-present hum, the background noise of the ship’s systems so familiar to space travel veterans. She had been sitting there alone for hours, and she jumped when the hatch opened.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Jax’s deep voice was unmistakable. He walked into the room, ducking as he always had to on spaceships to fit through the doorway.
She turned around and managed a quick smile. “I like the quiet.”
“Ash,” he said, walking over to the small refreshment bar. “I’m glad it’s just that and not the fact that you’re so worried you can’t sleep.” His tone was soft, relaxed. The last thing he wanted was to get her even more stressed out.
She smiled again, though like the first, it only lasted a few seconds. “I was worried when you guys were cut off on the Lysandra Plateau. I can’t even imagine what a nightmare that must have been for you.” She paused, thinking about the inferno of Carson’s World, about the fear she’d felt even as she drove her medical staff beyond normal human endurance. “But this is crazy. Ten of them against Alliance Intelligence and all the security in Washbalt?”
He looked over at her. “Sarah, Erik is my best friend.” His voice came out more emotional than he’d intended. “He’s my only real friend, the only one I’ve ever had.” His face had been serious, but he flashed her a labored grin. “Except for you, of course.” He winked at her, trying, with partial success, to get her to smile again. “But the two of you are kind of a unit to me, anyway.” She didn’t laugh…quite, but she did manage another brief grin.
“I’m worried about him too.” He was serious now, looking right at her. “But I have never seen anything in the field like him, Sarah.” Behind his eyes the memories of a dozen battles were flashing by. “You know the kinds of places I’ve been with him. He’s a survivor. He’ll come back.”
She looked over at him, not sure if she wanted to smile again or cry. “Do you really believe that?” Her question was sincere, though it wasn’t clear if she really wanted honesty, or just an answer that would make her feel better. She wasn’t sure herself.
“Absolutely.” He didn’t know if he was lying to her or telling the truth, but he delivered the line with authority.
He turned back to the bar. There were a number of beverage dispensers, and a screen with an extensive menu of hot and cold drinks. “Coffee? Anything?” He looked over, but Sarah just shook her head. He punched the touch screen for coffee, and chose one of the six flavors offered. A cup popped into one of the dispensers, and steaming hot coffee poured into it.
He took the cup in his hand and walked back to the table, pulling out the chair next to her and sitting down. They’d been aboard for three weeks now, and they were only a day out from Columbia. The Richter was a Martian ship, appearing on the outside to be just what its registry said it was - an old freighter. Inside, however, was a different story, a state of the art ship, fully-armed and equipped with the very best ECM suite the Confederation could produce…and the Confeds had the best technology of any of the Powers.
So far, Roderick Vance had been true to his word. The Richter was packed to the proverbial rafters, filled with weapons and supplies…and Jax’s 500 Marine volunteers. The Richter’s official course was straight through the Eta Cassiopeiae system, bound for Fomalhaut to pick up a load of ores. The stop at Columbia was unofficial, to say the least.
“How are your people doing?” Sarah thought a subject change would do them both some good.
“Not bad. They’re a little cramped, but they’ve all had it worse before.” He took a small sip from the piping hot coffee. “I hope we can make a difference. Vance has equipped us well, but we still won’t have our powered armor. The rebels are outnumbered five to one, and maybe more. We’re just a drop in the bucket.”
“You’ll make a big difference. You’re going to have the best troops on the planet…by a large margin.” She looked over at him, putting her hand on top of his. “And they’ll be the best led too. I know Erik’s your friend, Darius, but you should know how much confidence he has in you. He told me once he thought you were the best field commander he’d ever seen…and he included himself in that.” She smiled and repeated herself: “You’ll make a big difference.”
She got up and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.” She looked back from the doorway. “You should too. I have a feeling we’re both going to have our hands full with the landing.” She gave him a little wave and ducked through the hatch into the corridor.
Jax sat alone for a while, enjoying the quiet and the warmth of the mug in his hands. The Martians have an interesting idea of room temperature, he thought with a shiver. Mars was cold, certainly, but the Martian cities were all in domes or underground. The early colonists had not had energy to spare to heat their shelters more than necessary, and they grew accustomed to lower temperatures, something they’d apparently handed down to their children and grand-children. It was really only a few degrees below Earth-normal, but Jax had always been sensitive to cold, an anomaly in such a large man.
He drained the last sip from his mug. The Martians had great coffee, he would give them that. He briefly considered having another cup, but decided he should try to get some sleep himself. He got up and walked over to the door, pausing as the hatch slid to the side – he needed it all the way open to squeeze through. The lights in the room went out before he’d even stepped into the hall and headed toward his quarters. More Martian thriftiness inherited from the early colonists, he supposed.