“Is Heinrich calling a briefing?” I asked, hustling Riggs to finish getting dressed, trying to keep him out of view of the wrist-comp’s cam. I needed him gone from the room, pronto.
Zero shook her head. “Captain Heinrich says there isn’t time. He’s distributed a mission plan instead. I really should’ve sent someone down to fetch you …”
“Never mind about that now,” I said. Talking over her was often the only way to deal with Zero’s constant state of anxiety. “What’s our tactical situation? Why the early drop?”
At that moment, a nasal siren sounded throughout the Bainbridge’s decks. Somewhere in the bowels of the ship, the engines were cutting, the gravity field fluctuating just a little to compensate.
The ship’s AI began a looped message: “This is a general alert. All operators must immediately report to the Simulant Operations Centre. This is a general alert …”
I could already hear boots on deck around me, as the sixty qualified operators made haste to the Science Deck. My data-ports—those bio-mechanical connections that would allow me to make transition into my simulant—were beginning to throb.
“You’d better get down here and skin up,” Zero said, nodding at the simulator behind her. “Don’t want to be late.” Added: “Again …”
“I’m on it,” I said, planting my feet in my boots. “Hold the fort.”
Zero started to say something else, but before she could question me any further I terminated the communication.
“Game time, Corporal,” I said to Riggs. “Look alive.”
Dressed now, Riggs nodded and made for the hatch. We had this down to a T: if we left my quarters separately, it minimised the prospect of anyone realising what was happening between us.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You do know that, right?”
“You know that was the last time,” I said, firmly.
“You said that last time …”
“Well this time I mean it, kemo sabe.”
Riggs nodded, but that idiot grin remained plastered across his face. “See you down there, Jenkins,” he said.
Here we go again, I thought. New team. New threat. Same shit.