The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [18]
“See that building?” He pointed again; Reed’s gaze followed the gesture. “The white one ... it was a movie theater ...” He let go a short, unhappy laugh. “When we were kids, if I didn’t take my sister with me, she’d scream like a banshee. ...” He paused, allowing himself a happy memory, of himself and Lizzie munching popcorn in the very first row, heads tilted back so far their necks ached, their eyes saucer-wide. “I can’t tell you how many movies we saw there. ...”
Reed nodded. As much as the two men ribbed each other and often argued, Reed had proven himself a true friend. It was he who suggested in the most delicate way that he would be honored to go with Tucker to see the attack site. Best, Reed had said, to see for yourself, to answer your own questions. Sometimes that’s easier than leaving things to your imagination ... Malcolm spoke, his tone gentle, tentative.
“Are you certain she was here when this happened?”
Trip’s expression and tone darkened. “Someone would’ve heard from her if she wasn’t.” Especially me ...
The sight of the scorched terrain was all Trip would ever have for proof. He forced himself to accept that, but there was one thing he could never accept: the fact that an entire race of beings were evil enough to have done such a thing ... and, according to the captain, they planned to do it again.
Trip’s heart was scarred, blackened by hatred. Maybe these beings had a good reason for what they did; maybe the answer lay in diplomacy, not war.
But at the moment, he didn’t care. He wanted bloodshed, wanted revenge.
Someone had to pay for what had happened to Lizzie.
Captain’s Starlog, supplemental. After days of debate, Starfleet’s finally informed me that we’re to proceed with our new mission.
Archer was far above the damage site, seated shoulder-to-shoulder beside Admiral Forrest in the cramped cockpit of an inspection pod. The two were maneuvering around the spacedock where the skeleton of a new starship was being constructed.
The Captain had felt a deep sense of relief on receiving permission to head for the Expanse; he’d been determined to go anyway, and having official sanction made things much easier. At the same time, he felt a sense of exhilaration that was not precisely pleasant. These were far more dangerous circumstances than the ones surrounding the Enterprise’s first sally into space.
Archer looked on the vessel with admiration and a bit of envy. “The NX-02 ...”
“She’ll be ready to launch in fourteen months,” Forrest said, with no small amount of pride.
“A long time,” Archer said. Currently, he had serious doubts about whether he’d be alive to step aboard her.
Forrest’s hearty, encouraging tone rang a bit false. “Hopefully, you’ll be back well before then.”
“Hopefully,” Archer replied, without enthusiasm. He changed the subject. “What kind of armaments will she have?”
“The same complement of weapons you’ll have when the retrofit is done.” He paused. “Have you told your crew?”
“This morning.”
“How many are staying aboard?”
It wasn’t an easy subject for Archer to consider. On one hand, he wanted and needed each and every crew member; at the same time, he dreaded asking them to accompany him on such a perilous mission. He was all too aware that he bore the responsibility for each of their lives, and so he had been careful not to pressure any of them, but simply to give them the facts and let them come to their own decisions.
“Some haven’t decided yet,” he answered Forrest at last, “but I don’t think more than eight or nine will be leaving.” After a pause, he added, “I talked to General Casey a few hours ago.”
The admiral nodded. “His team should be arriving at eighteen hundred hours.” He directed a sidewise glance at Archer, one silver eyebrow lifted. “I’m surprised you asked for them. You think you’ll be comfortable with military on board?”
Archer shrugged casually even though he had in fact not been comfortable with