No one spoke.

Neil stood frozen, but Valentine looked up at Rivers, who had her eyes down and one trembling hand on Triss’s head. Jericho looked like she might be sick.

“Officially killed in action some ten years ago, her record was quietly classified. An easy feat, since she spent the vast majority of her time in clandestine operations. Three years before her death she agreed to a personal request from Grand Admiral Rookwood, a request that I was unaware of until very recently. After several unsuccessful attempts, a genetically perfect clone was rendered.” Neerson gestured to Sergeant Rivers. “Though the neurological replication science is still imperfect, it was applied here, to Sergeant Rivers. She bears with her a large repository of Sergeant Major Rivers’s life experience and knowledge.” He turned fully to look at the three of them. “You have the potential to be the good that can be achieved through these perceived dubious means.” He turned his gaze on Jericho. “You, Commander, have the potential to be the first in what will hopefully be a very large group of individuals willing to look past prejudice and bigotry, and set an example for others to come.”

He reached down and pressed the button again, the cryo-tube flooding once again and becoming opaque. Then Neerson crossed his arms and surveyed his group in silence, watching all through a single point. Jericho looked steadily at Sergeant Rivers, who was now kneeling next to Triss. The Commander looked less likely to vomit, but her face was otherwise unreadable.

Valentine was still looking at the cryo-tube, but Neil was looking at Neerson, some of the old stone back in his eye.

“First Sergeant?” Neerson said. “Do you have insight to this matter?”

“Why would you bring her back here, sir?” Neil said at once, pointing at Rivers. “You could have just told us all this in some office away from what I’m assuming is happy memories from a couple of different points.”

“I could have told you.” Neerson said calmly, turning his eyes on Valentine. “It was my opinion that others of your Task Force needed to see some of these things for themselves.”

Valentine looked down at the words and nodded once. From the look on his face, however, Neerson’s opinion had been the correct one. Neil made no further arguments, but walked over to Rivers and helped her to her feet. “I feel marginally outranked.” Neil said.

“Don’t.” Rivers said with a shaky smile.

Neil didn’t say anything to that, but he did feel Valentine draw up next to him, looking down at Rivers. She looked up to meet his eyes, and for a long moment no one in the room said anything. Valentine looked at Neil, then to the floor. “Had this medic a few years back.” He said. “Real good friend. She forced the weirdest hygiene on us too.” He nodded a head to the cryo-tubes. “Kinda weird, all this. Can’t promise I won’t think it’s not weird for a while.” He tapped his ear. “This is weird too, and you never looked at me wrong. Hoping in time I might be able to return the favor.”

Rivers smiled.

Neerson nodded, and turned to Jericho. “Commander, I believe it may be time for us to return to the Vigilance. First Sergeant, do you need to be shown up to your wing of the station?”

“No sir.” Neil said. “I think we can find our way.”

The Admiral nodded, and departed.

Rivers walked over to the closed cryo-tube, Triss padding along beside her. Slowly, Rivers raised her hand and put it on the cryo-tube for a moment. “You were right about Task Force Hydra, Frist Sergeant.” She said, “Sergeant Major Rivers is the reason that Group Three was quietly shut down, save for Task Force Banshee. They were able to think up a cover story for that one.”

“Reallocated resources.” Valentine said at once, nodding. “Given who Group Three was attached to, everyone was happy to accept whatever bullshit came down the pipeline.”

“Who were they attached to?” Neil asked.

“Who else?” Rivers said, turning away. “The Nine.”

It made sense, Neil thought to himself as they walked towards the door. “Rookwood?”

“Primarily.” She said as the door closed behind them. “I guess that’s why Serjeant Major Rivers agreed to the program. She was a good friend, from what I can remember. But that’s gone now.”

“Maybe it is.” Valentine said. “But you’ve got another thing in front of you now. You might not be that Sergeant Major anymore, but you’re our Sergeant Rivers.”

Rivers let out a long, relieved sigh. “I guess I am.” Then she seemed to remember something. “Why’d you bring up your medic friend?”

“Cause she was a right pain in my asshole, like I expect you to be.” Valentine grunted. “And that hygiene drum she beat was dead irritating. On and on about the little place where germs would build up more than others. Had us scraping out our fingernails and washing the bottoms of our feet. Getting behind the ears like we were little kids. The worst though was the belly button.” He shook his head, trying to smile. “Talked all about the nasty shit that would build up in here and make us scrub it out every day. Can’t imagine what she would say if she could see you.”

At that, Rivers let out a laugh.

--

Martin met Benson at the indicated time. Unless he was much mistaken it correlated to a time when Neerson had said he would be taking the members of Task Force Cerberus down to show them something important to their mission. The maintenance bay was eerie and silent as he walked in. “Benson.” He called.

“Here.” Benson came to the edge of the ship.

“Looks like you’ve almost got this thing up and running.”

“I do have it up and running.” He said, pointing to the ladder. “Get your ass up here, sir, we’re on a timetable.”

When Martin was in the ship he promptly banged his head on the overhead and swore, glaring at Benson’s laugh. “So far your brother’s the only one who hasn’t had an issue with that. Lend a hand.”

Martin held the hatch to the antigravity well’s compartment with one hand as Benson disconnected wires.

“I thought you were trying to get that thing to work.”

“Got it working.” Benson said. “There’s no fucking way to calibrate the damn thing, so it’s all touch, and with a ship like this it’s hard to get right. Honestly seems like something that was supposed to fuel something a lot bigger than it was.” He pulled the pentagon shape out and slapped Martin’s hand away so that the hatch fell shut.

“That’s why you installed secondary propulsion.”

“That’s one reason.” Benson slapped the bulkhead twice. “Even without that big black ball this thing will go. And it’ll go better than most anything else in the Cluster, and it’ll go a lot quieter too. This here is one thing I was able to get out of the other ship.” He shook his head. “And as googly eyed as Drake got over it there were about ten others I was able to pull just as useful. In a practical sense at least, for a craft this size. You’re gonna need that a lot more than I will. Let’s go.”

On approach to the Deterrence, Martin brought up something else on his mind. “Neerson told me that there would be sensitive cargo coming up from the Vulcan. But he said that he’d be escorting it personally. This isn’t what he was talking about.”

Benson shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “No. No this isn’t that.”

“You know what it is?”

“I’ve got a very educated, very scary guess. But he didn’t bring me in on it, and I’m not going to bring you in on it either.”

“And this antigravity well?” Martin said. “You’re sure that you won’t need it?”

“Not in that beast I’ve got over in the Vulcan.” Benson assured him. “Neerson needs you to be small and silent. That’s not easy for a Dreadnaught to do, and this thing should help with that. Besides, I’ve got a spare.”

“How long will the installation be?”

“About five minutes. I’ll just need access to your most unobtrusive control panel. There’s usually plenty of extra ones on board an RDC, but Neerson doesn’t want it on the bridge.”

“I’ve got Hightower standing by.”

Benson nodded. “I’m not going to ask if you trust her.”

“Good.”

When they docked with the Deterrence, the crew was nowhere to be seen, except Hightower, who showed them first to the engine room where she had already set a magnetic plate in the corner of the deck. After a few wires had been connected, Benson welded it shut and nodded. “Don’t open that.” He said to Hightower, then looked down at his com. “Neerson’s leaving the Vulcan now. He’s returning Jericho the Vigilance and then he’ll come aboard.”

“My office?”

“As good a place to wait as any.” They went up and seated themself to wait for Neerson, Martin pulling a deck of cards from the desk.

“I swear to god,” Benson said darkly. “If you deal those up they’re going on the fucking floor.”

“Won’t be too out of the ordinary, then.” Martin said, putting the deck off to the side. “Always good to keep up appearances, though.”

Benson laughed at that, and then his smile vanished.

Martin frowned. “What’s up?”

“You’re leaving me with Neerson and your little brother, that’s what.” He said grumpily. “If First Sergeant Ziggenbor is going to talk back to Neerson like that, I don’t have a prayer.”

“He’s almost as easy to get along with as he is to piss off.” Martin said.

“Don’t comment on his height and don’t come after his people?”

“See? You’ve got him figured already. How do you think I feel? I’ve got to go halfway across the system to get something that is supposedly not there and help get a bunch of people out that might not want to go with me. All while hauling alien tech.”

“Working alien tech.” Benson said as a point.

“That worked in your shitty little recon ship, sure.” Martin said, his voice growing more serious. “I don’t know what’s going to happen if I need to flip that switch.”

“The straight answer would be fuck all else that happened to me.” Benson said, just as seriously. “Honestly, Zig, that thing it’s complex as Drake made it out to be. It’s a direct current by the looks of it, on off. Or… more on, less on. The thing is always on, it’s on right now.”

“I remember that.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

Martin sighed and picked up the cards, shuffling them more abestly than anything while Benson eyed them darkly. “How many men do you have under your command, Benson?”

“Technically, or…”

“Benson.”

“None, goddamnit.” Benson said, leaning back in his chair. “But I still could have killed us all if I had fucked that thing up.”

“Sure, but not your guys.” Martin said. “It’s different. This crew is mine. They can hate me, they can love me, but every one of them is trusting me to do right by them. And even if you had killed us all, there wasn’t anyone trusting you with that this time.”

“You sure know how to make a pilot feel good about himself.” Benson said. “You’re trusting me to do right, aren’t you?”

Martin looked down. “I am.”

“Then trust me.” Benson said. “Like you trusted me with Neil.”

Silence hung between the men for a moment before Martin said, without looking up, “I’m trusting you with him again.”

“He’s Neerson’s man.”

“He’s my kid brother.” Martin bit out, looking up at Benson. “And I’m not going to be here. I’ve barely gotten to talk to him and I’m about to leave again. He’s got his own guys, but he’s going to need someone to scream at. To. He’s the kind that needs to let off steam before it builds up, and preferably not in a way that is going to get other people hurt.”

Benson nodded, choosing his words. “You trust him to do the right thing?”

“Sure.” Martin said. “To the ends of this shithole galaxy we’re in. And that’s the problem. Sometime the right thing gets you run into the ground when you can’t see the whole picture.” Martin fixed Benson with a hard look.

“Well, shit.” Benson rubbed his chin. “I really fucking hate it when people do that do me. But I’m guessing you knew that.” Bensons com pinged again and he rose, going to the door. Neerson entered and surveyed the men. “Things are in order on your ship, Commander?” Neerson said.

“As well as they can be so far, sir.” Martin said, rising. “This ship is ready to go underway, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Captain Benson, have you briefed Commander Ziggenbor on his cargo?”

“Hell no, sir.” Benson said. “If you didn’t brief me then I didn’t hear a damn thing.”

“Your prudence continues to show growth. Commander, Captain. Please accompany me.” They left the office following Neerson through hallways Martin didn’t often travel. They went down several lifts into the furthest belly of the ship, where long term cargo storage would have been in a more typical posting. There was nothing there then, except for a cryo-tube with a figure hunched over it.

They straightened as Neerson approached. “Vitals are stable, sir.” Artisan Coppersmith said as they approached, nodding to Martin and Benson. “They will hold underway.”

“Thank you Artisan. Do you have any words of insight for Commander Ziggenbor?”

“Ah…” Coppersmith smiled faintly. “No. Actually I don’t.”

“Very well.” Neerson walked to the cryo-tube and placed a hand on it, turning to Martin as he did. “This is a problem for you to work out, Commander.” He said. “I would like your deliberation to begin twenty standard days out from your departure. It is perhaps the most closely guarded secret in the Cluster. I trust you to handle it as I would.”

“Yes sir.” Martin said. “Can I get help from the crew?”

Neerson stared at Martin for a moment. “That will be your decision. I trust you, as I said, to handle this situation as I would.”

Martin bitterly thought that would be a very difficult shadow to cast, and then only if he was more lucky than he had been yet. “Yes sir. The nature of this problem?”

“You will find out twenty standard days after your departure.” He said. “Good luck with it, and with your mission, Commander. Contact me when you have completed it.”

“Yes sir.”

“Artisan,” Neerson gestured, and the two of them departed.

This left Martin staring at the cryo-tube, and Benson standing behind him. The two men said nothing until the Admiral had cleared the storage bay. “On top of everything else.” Martin said. “He leaves me with something like this.”

“You think he wouldn’t if he didn’t think you could handle it?”

“I don’t know with him, sometimes.” Martin fought to keep himself from balling his fists. “Sometimes it just feels like he’s toying with us.”

“You know that he isn’t.” Benson moved up to stand next to him. “They call him the navy’s shadow for a reason, zig. We’re all operating under him, it makes sense that things would be a little shady.”

“Right.” Martin closed his eyes for a moment and turned to the pilot. “I guess this is goodbye for now.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me, princess.” Benson said, holding out his hand. “I’ll catch you up down the road.”

“I hope so.” Martin said, shaking Benson’s hand. “It’s a good bit easier to see the full picture when you’re around.”

“Think like me. Less logic, more profanity. And trust your gut.” Benson released Martin’s hand and pointed. “Like your brother. Remember the people you’ve always had around, and you’ll be surprised what you can still learn from them.”

“Well good, that.” Martin said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

They were quiet again for a moment, before Benson said. “The boss is waiting.”

“On me too.”

“Best not keep him, then. Fair winds, Zig.” And Benson left, leaving Martin alone with the cryo-tube.

From the shuttle, Benson watched the Deterrence pull away and begin its initial acceleration. “You look troubled, Captain.” Neerson said. “Speak your mind.”

“Always sucks to see a friend go, sir.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t have friends.”

“You’re bound to be wrong every once in a while, sir. I don’t have many.”

Neerson considered this. “Sergeant Valentine is not your friend.”

“He’s as close as anyone’s come in a while.” Benson nodded at the departing ship. “Zig, though. Tough to find ones like him, sir.”

“And ones like you, Captain. Don’t forget that.”

“You’re gonna make me go all red, sir, you keep talking like that.”

Neerson smiled. “I can sympathize with you, Captain, about wishing to keep people at an arms length. The desire comes to many in our line of work. Especially men like us.”

Benson turned to the Admiral. “Men like us?”

“You are a combat pilot.” Neerson explained. “It is your job to see men and women safely to their intention, and from their extraction. It is my job to hand down tasks that I would otherwise rather handle myself, to the standard I not only expect, but demand. Neither of us can be sure of what happens in the middle of what we do. All we can do it trust.” He sighed as the dwindling size of the Deterrence became more difficult to make out. “Red Savior was not the first time you left with more bodies cold than warm.”

“Hell, sir, it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d have had to leave with an empty shuttle.”

“And if Commander Ziggenbor does not complete his mission, it will not have been the first time that I placed my trust in the wrong man.” Neerson said. “Scar tissue on the mind is much more cumulative than on the body.”

“You’ve got a good way of looking at it.” Benson said. “After a while, the soldiers getting on my ships… it became easier to just look at them as people who weren’t dead yet.”

“I’ve heard similar sentiments from almost every type of soldier and naval personnel at one time or another. Except the medics.”

Benson let out a little scoff. “Rule number one. Doc can’t save everyone.”

“Rule two,” Neerson said, settling in his seat as Benson winged the shuttle towards the Onslaught. “Good men will die.”

Benson let the shuttle glide for some time before saying, “Rule three. Doc will go through hell to break rules one and two.”