Kindnesss: The 7 Virtues, #1

By E Darkwood

How do you fight a pandemic?

With guns of course!!

 

-

 

"What do I know about first contact?... That it happened?"

[Leans in]

"But I heard it from some legacies that first contact was made before the date everybody knows. Rumor goes that Earth said no, the gols left and their visit was covered up with some rando explanation about weather balloons. Um hm, no that's not a space fleet up there it's weather balloons.

That don't have kusay to do with the weather? And left Earth's orbit to measure what exactly?

I'm telling you, the past is wacky."

[Leans back]

"Jury's out on why they said no that maybe first time.

Maybe because THE UCRNU IS COMING! is just not a sexy look. Not even when you pair it with 'ej don't panic, we know how to cure it' — but who gets a fire lit under them from 'we don't know when it's coming but it's coming! Maybe. Hundred years or less.'

[Rolls eyes]

Maybe they thought the G.A. was as full of hot air as weather balloons.

Maybe it was a lot easier to blame the gols than to take them at their word — thanks no thanks keep your disease to yourselves. Those suspicious rxws.

[Sighs]

Or maybe it was just politics, which is probably where that expression comes from.

Just politics — nothing personal.

Yeah, that sounds about right because back then there was a thing called politicians — or a job I suppose? — where apparently just that handful of people ran the show all on their own and kusay to the majority. Can you believe that? Like that'd fly today. We'd have voted those politicians into exile faster than you can name how many planets aren't in the G.A. — and which ones grant asylum to tyrants.

[Snorts]

But back to the original question.

What's with first contact?

[Lifts a shoulder]

I'm not much for wasting breath arguing over first or second because it's not about that, it's about the mission-! Oop. Speaking'o why we're here, weapon's charged. Duty calls!"

 

Signed off Officer Kim

- -

This is a contemporary story that takes place in a universe where Earth has for the last hundred years or so been a part of the Golgo'tha Alliance, a federation of hundreds of planets united by one objective — bringing an end to the viral threat of the unpredictable plague known within the G.A. as the ucrnu.

All of Earth's G.A. Officers swear to that mission but it is those in the Earth-Golgo'tha Unit — spacies to some — who specifically train to uphold it. Spacies travel the galaxies enforcing quarantines and defending against those who would break them but they also have to deal with the homegrown tensions their specialization — unnecessary to some — foments.

You can travel across the universe and save entire species but it doesn't amount to much if the home team helps as often as they want you out of the way.

-

Please note that while the seven books of this series come together as a unit they may be read as standalones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E Darkwood
• Release date: Mar 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215146712

Book preview

It's quiet.

It's that awful sort of quiet that hovers in a thick stillness that for all you know it's not a living thing it still makes you feel like it might end you if you only give it half a chance to.

And that's out here, away from where all the livians are being quarantined — far enough away any movement is nine times out of ten either me or indirectly me.

Somehow the quiet actually gets worse the closer you are to civilization — I don't know how the navys do it. Ah that's not true, it's probably that they're too busy saving lives to really notice.

Before the G.A. the quiet was something I noticed for what broke it so the first time I experienced this oppressive quiet was- something of a wake-up call.

It was one more thing I had to get used to, learn to leave it in the background so it doesn't distract from what doesn't belong.

There.

It could be some unfortunate fauna. It could be a local. Or it could be an unfriendly local. Whatever it is that has my senses on alert I need visual confirmation.

I nudge my drone towards the suspect area, slowly so its movement won't draw attention and in a slightly upward trajectory to get it to the level where its sounds of operation won't give it away either.

Once it's there I leave the unit hovering at optimal observation height while I abuse the range of its zoom to get me my mark.

Zilch — three sixty search and not even a wacky Leb bug to show for it.

I flick my eyes towards my other drone's screen and make the call to relocate it to the perimeter of where I'm going to start another thorough sweep. Where are you? Come on, I know you're there, somewhere.

Registering change to patrol pattern. Comes Temp's voice from over my earpiece.

I tap my G.A. badge, which for ease of access I have pinned to my chest.

I needed more eyes on sector 43 A. I respond because as our acting comm he'll have noticed — and almost definitely reasoned out whys to — my drone's course change but mission records are easier if all of everything is made verbal — while the only things actively stirring the quiet are in our unit. Report while you can because field action waits for no one.

I won't label it 'hostile' until I can actually spot it. I continue to explain before he offers to send human backup based on zilch that's provable. Not yet.

Hudson and Visak on standby. He informs, pulling a twitch from my cheek.

But I recognize procedure for what it is so I grumble a thanks he'll never hear then relay an audible 'understood' and switch my badge to tapless field mode so I can refocus all my attention on my dual search and report anything as soon as seen — all the while ignoring the slight lurch of uneasiness that having both of my hands off my long-range weapon comes with.

Keeping up a systemic but opposing flight pattern while maintaining a secure position is a skill on its own but adding to it the dual camera manipulation — let's just say 'ambidextrous' might be the reason I got to try drone watch out but practice is the real reason I've kept the job.

And why nobody flings any casings about it being a solo one.

I narrow my eyes and inch my right joystick-

Got anything yet? Cuts the impatient voice into my zooming in.

I roll my eyes upwards at his impeccable timing.

"No Hud I-" My answer abruptly stops as something big moves on my left screen.

What is that? Skirts through my brain as my hands fly to grab the left controller and maneuver the drone into posi- kusay.

I instinctively take the shot and in the same second that the picture is going off to my unit I jab an elbow towards my weapon to initiate auto-target, unwilling to expend a hand on aiming when I have two — less potent but just as feisty — armed drones to put on the offense.

I have eyes on an unidentified entity. I report for the sake of the timestamp — let the verbal record show I'm sticking to procedure.

The exploding chaos on the unit line confirms that I'm not the only one seeing this thing as a capital U capital E.

Do not engage. Temp's stern voice wins over the rest.

Hudson, Visak to sector 43 A. He directs.

Roger. The pair agree as one.

Roger. I mutter, both my sights locked onto- kusay!

I swivel the cameras in search of the UE but come up on zilch. It goes against my training but I decide to risk one of my drones being spotted and move it into pursuit — presumed pursuit as I'm taking my best guess as to where the thing went and while drones are great spotters I'd have to fly it pretty close to the ground to get a shot of any tracks. Putting half my forces in that vulnerable position when this thing is capable of vanishing like that? I'd feel better about going naked into a gun fight.

I keep casting around the most likely path but fall back into my previous pattern when I leave 43 A's bounds.

I'm a large bite frustrated on not landing eyes again on the UE but mostly I'm on alert — of not only my drones. I sweep my surroundings then return to my screens.

I'm not stock over barrel on waiting for reinforcements but with not knowing what else this UE is capable of — it'll be the pair of armed officers that are going to have the edge on ground tracking.

Incoming. Hud announces just as he and Lou come into one of my drone's range.

That didn't take long. I think to myself with an acknowledging nod to Temp's good call 'bout having them be on standby.

Follow me. I sigh over our unit line as I shift the drone into the pair's line of sight and flying low enough they can keep an eye on I lead them to where I saw the UE.

The robotic Entity, I reclassify with a concentrating frown as I mentally pull up the single picture of what is best described as the top — maybe quarter, but probably less — of a giant ass robot in the middle of a quarantine-enforced bare desert.

Not even a leaf out of place. Hud concludes our report — his first and only slip into his informal out there way of saying things — what leaves are you finding in deserts Hud?

But like most of Hudspeak it's more about the intention than the actual wording and to that there's really only one way to put it.

Yeah buddy me too. I sigh sympathetically, thoughts flashing to all the morning spent combing for the slightest hint of our unidentified. Infra, sonics, residues of more things than I can name, we went through everything by the time our patrol shift was over and zilch. If it wasn't for the picture proof I'd be wondering if someone let the curg ferment too long again — course that would have to mean I went out drinking last night, which would lead to a whole 'nother set of questions because I do not do that any night while on mission and off planet. I'm all for a quick sniff out of where the locals local but weeknights are for staying sharp not adding to my stress by wondering if someone's fibbing 'bout what's in my cup.

Kusay I'm all sorts of unsettled.

And it's not just me, the tension is pulsating throughout the unit but if the admin on the viewer notices he doesn't comment, just nods to himself like he's done for most of this and jots down what Hud's said, or whatever it is that base jockeys write up from these sit-downs.

Or maybe the guy's shift is over and he's beat. Least he doesn't have zilch to show for it.

Any word on the shot of the UE? Lou pipes up and to anyone who knows him — or has been around the pair for more than a day — it's obvious why he asks — even to the man he's asking for going by Hud's side-eye — which means I throw a glance towards Temp curious if there's any reaction to what is essentially stepping on his comm toes.

But as I'd suspected — it's a glance wasted.

Nothing yet. The admin replies like he actually is sorry there's no news from either other units or from whoever is running the picture comparison against the G.A.'s Golgo'tha-sized stockpile.

How 'bout that? Someone's got real live sympathy feels. I comment to myself as I shift a little closer and casually try to work out the folded letters on the admin's uniform. J-something-n- that's either a c or an s, no definitely an s- something- n? Jonson maybe?

I rap a finger on my bicep but don't get long on that because maybe-Jonson is putting down his service tablet and after a rueful salute he signs off and the screen goes dark.

I quirk a grin at the dork move.

Not much for words is he? I'll have to get his name next time.

Least reporting's done. I shrug to myself.

Well that was a bunch of horse- ow! Hud complains then quick as a sling he reaches out to catch onto Lou's hand before it whaps him on the manned ricochet.

Lou's smug smile at them now firmly holding hands has even Temp chuckling — that their spat also considerably lowers the tension in the room is something probably only lost on the guy who isn't on the screen to watch it.

A chirp can suddenly be heard, which on its own might turn my head but it does when it's twinning with a low buzz — that in part swallows up and in part gets a slight boosted effect from the even quieter vibrating alert from another badge — which tells me starting chirp's not some rando bird that got in here somehow.

That and the combo of sounds are near drowned out by a standard alert that could only be from the cadet who really really should know better than to have it set to that loud default on base but during reporting? I shake my head. Evan's like the only one on the unit who could make it sound like anything, anything and the only reason I'm giving her a pass is because obviously something must've to somehow force a reset because she's never gone off like that before now.

She's also the only one — maybe one of two... three — distractible enough to not have noticed the change and lucky enough that it didn't slap us all in the face during reporting.

Kusay Evan. I huff in frustration. It's not a lack of technical knowhow that's inspiring the rookie move of not checking her badge before going in or heck, having built the habit of auto putting it on silent — it is standard to keep your badge close and set to whatever's going to get your attention quick and fiddling with custom settings is not something any of us have told her to do. And it's not like they cover spacie standards to giving-yourself-away in any basic classes at the academy — least they didn't at mine — though they totally should.

"Yo parrot plier, maybe don't announce to the universe there's a vote on?" Hud unhelpfully snarks at Evan as she taps off her alarm with an embarrassed scrunch to her face.

Ow? He whips around to confusedly frown at his better half who, in a totally Lou move, has whapped Hud without being seen and with his non-dominant hand to boot.

I snicker as Hud studies the hand he's still got a tight lock on like he's wondering if it's an especially solid hologram or just that quick but any more thoughts on the married couple are soon forgotten as I call up the message my badge chirp announced.

Correction the ballot that came in. Guess it was a literal 'there's a vote on.' I hum to myself as I scroll.

Jury's still out on Jonson but as far as getting his admin on? The guy's good.

Too bad these things are just signed as certified by an admin. But scratch next meeting, Gloria'll have a name, heck she'll have the deets. Too bad she's back on Earth — it's always better in person with her. I grin to myself.

<

<

I add but she doesn't answer which means she'll get to it when she gets to it.

I- I uh- engine! S squeaks pulling my attention away from my holoscreen to her as she- yeah there's really only one way to put it she makes a run for the exit.

Slide open. Slide shut.

Proving she's a pilot through and through —  not no one and no thing going to stop her escape route. I snort but then I give it another sweep. I scratch the underside of my jaw with one finger.

"What was that about?" I nudge Evan who only shakes her head from side to side — meaning she's just as left blowing in the wind.

Ow? Hud comments with a frown like either he's not sure he's feel it anymore or what he's doubting is the reason behind the whap.

But then I catch the upward twitch of the corner of Hud's mouth and paired with Lou's expression it makes clear that the whap aborted a comment about engines that was going to have zilch to do with S' job and everything to do with taking care of her engine — S' express exit is- her glowing ears scream that she caught onto Hud faster than I did. Smart girl. I congratulate her.

Then I pull a face and give him the stink eye but Hud just laughs it off. Copacetic. I sigh to myself as I cross my arms over my chest.

A while back, after S returned solo from one of the worst dates I've ever heard of — that wasn't from the 'before' side of a romcom — she spilled to our entire table all her woes in dating.

Long story short it ended with tears and her practically begging Hud to be her wingman. Which sure, the guy's got top-of-the-line taste in men — and if his girlfriends were anything like Lou then great taste in women too — but can't pretend my knee-jerk reaction wasn't to wonder how Hud got the job  when he legit gave S, super shy can-barely-talk-about-sex S, a dildo for her birthday.

Kusay I almost grabbed the offensively basic fake cock for a demonstration on how, in a pinch, it'll double as a bat no problem — that almost on the demo only thanks to Lou coming to the rescue and explaining how in Hud's mind the gift was a sort of apology because since he took up being her wingman they've only gone out to one club, and it was a complete bust. By Hud's logic if she didn't have someone to take care of her needs then he'd get her something in the meantime.

I think the worst part of the explanation is that I got it — see a day off after a long mission and you'll usually catch my ass at a bar, or whatever the latest hot spot is, scopes on and an eager itch to scratch.

But maybe THE worst part is that I was there when they came back from that one outing and while S tried to put a smile on it- the way Hud told it getting S to chat up any cute guy there was about as easy as reassembling an assault riffle while wearing a straightjacket. The grin he delivered that comparison with making it obvious the pun wasn't unintentional — neither was my eye-roll. Probably why I wasn't thinking about it while I was eyeing up Hud's chin.

Her chair's abruptly scraping back draws every focus on Evan before her latest cadet move does.

Engine failure? I- I should- She stumbles, starting to wind herself up.

-finish up your vote? Hud suggests as he slings an arm over Evan — and he keeps on talking right over the rest of her stammering.

I smile to myself at the quick-on-his-feet distraction but wink at him when I catch his eye.

Hud returns it with a grin before he goes back to lecturing on the finer points of 'silence sometimes being a better warning than any sound.'

I have to laugh at that phrasing, but I also have to give it to him. Even when Evan hasn't gotten his seal of approval Hud's still taking prepping her seriously — in his own way. But the soaking-it-all-in puppy eyes she's throwing him shows she understands he's not just blowing hot air about her default alert.

Not sure where she lands on the tools kick he's on but she hasn't whinged about any of them though he's bound to run out soon seeing as he's not looking like he's going to pick the keeper any time soon. Wonder what he'll move on to. Cutlery? I rib to myself and then I remember that I never did decide if I overheard him call her screwdriver the other day or not and whether that was the start of the tool arc or the end of a super short dive into cocktails — probably too long a delay for it have been an intentional cock pun but you never know with Hud.

I'm not Lou so I'm not going to be able to change his mind about it but I think Evan's a good fit to the unit. She's also. Also. I'll put it this way, there's really no doubting she's spent most of her days surrounded by machine parts — that sometimes talk back. How else can I explain how she'll be talking out loud and it's sprinkled in with beeps? She's fun but sometimes chatting with her I'm left wondering if we're even the same species — just off the top of my head, chicken noodle, tomato, kusay even clam chowder comes to mind about what comes in a can, who asks if it's snake soup?

Someone who gets to beep beeping when she thinks no one's watching that's who.

But ask anyone and a spacie spacie is par for the course — ask me and it's not a deal-breaker — but it does add some ounces to Hud's don't-think-so side of things.

Just not enough to overbalance that Evan's not afraid to ask, she wants to learn anything we're willing to teach her but she knows her stuff and she isn't- my hand twitches in the direction of my service gun at the memory of that steaming pile of name-calling garbage. Last I heard he was on some base in Oregon — hopefully shoveling manure.

Course thinking about that has my gaze trailing after S again. I bite my bottom lip and decide to give her the space she ran for — but if she thinks she's having solo lunch she better think again.

The sound of Sarge getting up, followed by Lou, Hud and Evan draws my attention away from the door — that Hud's still pulling double grip duty even as the trio exits pulls another chuckle from me.

That Evan's still hanging on to every word turns that chuckle a little softer. Heck Lou's looking at him soft too.

I don't know if it's the way it's always been with this unit but as long as I've been on it's not too often that we get wannabe spacies — that the frequency's steadily dropped to a trickle, only one other cadet between manure man and Evan, might have something to do with the send-off that homophobe got — probably because in the academy they paint spacies as heroes when we come up in history class but when we come up in career orientation no one's walking away without hearing about the psych evals you have to go through — saying without saying that it takes a special kind of crazy to sign up to live up to two thirds of your year on the other side of the universe when supposedly you're a good little human so what you want is to stay on Earth with all the other humans. Goody goody humans.

The academy probably figures that with the youths all hyped up by movies or whatnot on all that talk about fighting aliens it only drives up the regret-it-later sign-ups so it's they're job to bring expectations back down to earth. Someone should really do something about that.

Kusay I'd do it, except, they're not wrong. While I've been here I've seen more than a few trigger-happy cadets breeze on through into getting dumped — I've helped one or two trigger-happy officers out the door too.

I think the acadamy'd be more successful in driving down how many regretters we get by mentioning how much of our field time is spent guarding perimeters. Not many rookies are tripping over themselves to go out on missions that boil down to 'watch the local landscape until it's memorized and report changes.'

Speaking'o reports, I look back at my holoscreen and with a twinge reread the three options.

No further action until more is known about U.E. image.

Assign capturing unit to go in search of U.E.

Assign other unit to go in search of U.E.

Despite my admiration of Jonson's summarizing report before reading the actual choices, I think it says more about his interpretation of my here-then-gone encounter that he didn't put 'do zilch' as an overt option than that he left an open answer at the bottom — I've seen it enough in other votes to think of it as 'standard' rather than a sneaky way to get the decision to swing opinions one way anyway but I'm still giving him a mental tip of the hat.

That I write in that blank space 'increase officer patrols and no further action until more is known about UE image' has zilch to do with other opinions I have. Nope no siree.

I snort to myself.

There's really only one way to put it — the G.A.'s gotten lax. Just because it's been fifty years since the last confirmed ucrnu — and what is? thirty since the last unconfirmed pandemic — doesn't mean we should be pulling punches when we get to suspected planets. Yeah this time with Leb we might not have been caught with our pants down but if you think about it, it was only because it was the unit that uses drones for patrol that was out there- kusay that it was us is probably the only reason we got even the fraction of an unidentified that we did.

Sure ucrnu means sickness not battle bots and if the UE had come in swinging we would've defended as readily as any other unit but it skimming the perimeter instead of getting caught outside of it, is the difference between civilians having to deal with laser holes on top of being sick out of their ever-loving minds. And with the navys still going at it we don't even know if whatever the unidentified was has any real chance of having something to do with the ucrnu spread — though my gut says yes. Actually, like I said during the meeting, what it really says is scout.

Jury's out on whose or what for.

If there were more spacies I'd be all for going hard after the UE even when there's good chance it's a wild goose chase. I'm just not stock over barrel about leaving an unknown unchecked while the ballet collects votes. But Sarge's point was good — it could've been meant to draw us away from guarding the quarantine site. A big thumper like that and no tracks, kusay an image the only proof it was ever there?

Just because our holograms don't show up on pics doesn't mean someone's couldn't.

I make a face as I shove away from questions without answers and I send in my vote, closing my holoscreen satisfied with what I've proposed — even if it'll most likely be counted as a vote for the first option if there's a tie in the results.

I came into the meeting biting to get back out there and find that unidentified so we can get those answers however it's not my first rodeo — Leb is massive, needle-in-a-haystack's-a-snap-in-comparison massive — and these things have a procedure, much as it feels like taking steel wool to the face. But I'll admit that watching mister soldier almost lose his reporting neutral near the end helped simmer me out some.

I sigh and crack my neck. My gaze then wanders to the only other source of living sounds in the room and I'm not the least bit surprised to find that Temp's on his service tablet busy flicking through dozens of windows — the hand opening and closing to the side of his earpiece signals he's doing the same with the audio lines. I swear it'll take the universe imploding for him to lose his cool and even then it'll only be because a corpse can't keep it's cool — it can't keep anything.

I snort to myself.

That admin a new transfer? I think to ask him now that there's a lull in which to pick his brain.

Temp's head quirks to one side as he picks apart my question then puts it together in order to answer.

Affirmative. Temp replies, at no point in his thinking taking a pause to his cycling.

Thought so. I hum. With write-up admins coming from a more or less steady pool seeing a new face  was pulling more on the side of him being new to the base and not someone altogether new to the