The Human Division - By John Scalzi Page 0,2

screen, heading quickly toward the Polk.

“Oh, God,” Bair said, and stood as the bridge crew reported missiles en route.

Captain Basta ordered the missiles lanced out of the sky and then turned toward Bair—or, more directly, to Evans. “Those two,” she said. “Escape pod. Now.”

“Wait—,” Bair began.

“No time, Ambassador,” Basta said, cutting her off. “Too many missiles. My next two minutes are about getting you off the ship alive. Don’t waste them.” She turned back to her bridge crew, telling them to prep the black box.

Evans grabbed Bair. “Come on, Ambassador,” he said, and pulled her off the bridge, Roberts following.

Forty seconds later, Bair and Roberts were shoved by Evans into a cramped box with two small seats. “Strap in,” Evan said, yelling to make himself heard. He pointed below one of the seats. “Emergency rations and hydration there.” He pointed below the other. “Waste recycler there. You have a week of air. You’ll be fine.”

“The rest of my team—,” Bair said again.

“Is being shoved into escape pods right now,” Evans said. “The captain will launch a skip drone to let the CDF know what happened. They keep rescue ships at skip distance for things just like this. Don’t worry. Now strap in. These things launch rough.” He backed out of the pod.

“Good luck, Evans,” Roberts said. Evans grimaced as the pod sealed itself. Five seconds later, the pod punched itself off the Polk. Bair felt as if she had been kicked in the spine and then felt weightless. The pod was too small and basic for artificial gravity.

“What the hell just happened back there?” Roberts said, after a minute. “The Polk was hit the instant it skipped.”

“Someone knew we were on our way,” Bair said.

“This mission was confidential,” Roberts said.

“Use your head, Brad,” Bair said, testily. “The mission was confidential on our end. It could have leaked. It could have leaked on the Utche side.”

“You think the Utche set us up?” Roberts asked.

“I don’t know,” Bair said. “They’re in the same situation as we are. They need this alliance as much as we do. It doesn’t make any sense for them to string the Colonial Union along just to pull a stupid stunt like this. Attacking the Polk doesn’t gain them anything. Destroying a CDF ship is a flat-out enemy action.”

“The Polk might be able to fight it out,” Roberts said.

“You heard Captain Basta as well as I did,” Bair said. “Too many missiles. And the Polk is already damaged.”

“Let’s hope the rest of our people made it to their escape pods, then,” Roberts said.

“I don’t think they were sent to the other escape pods,” Bair said.

“But Evans said—”

“Evans said what he needed to shut us up and get us off the Polk,” Bair said.

Roberts was quiet at this.

Several minutes later, he said, “If the Polk sent a skip drone, it will need, what, a day to reach skip distance?”

“Something like that,” Bair said.

“A day for the news to arrive, a few hours to gear up, a few hours after that to find us,” Roberts said. “So two days in this tin can. Best-case scenario.”

“Sure,” Bair said.

“And then we’ll be debriefed,” Roberts said. “Not that we can tell them anything about who attacked us or why.”

“When they look for us, they’ll also be looking for the Polk’s black box,” Bair said. “That will have all the data from the ship right up until the moment it was destroyed. If they were able to identify the attacking ships at any point, it’ll be in there.”

“If it survived the destruction of the Polk,” Roberts said.

“I heard Captain Basta tell her bridge crew to prep the box,” Bair said. “I’m guessing that means that they had time to do whatever they needed to to make sure it survived the ship.”

“So you, me and a black box are all that survived the Polk,” Roberts said.

“I think so. Yes,” Bair said.

“Jesus,” Roberts said. “Has anything like this ever happened to you before?”

“I’ve have missions go badly before,” Bair said, and looked around the confines of the escape pod. “But, no. This is a first.”

“Let’s hope the best-case scenario is what we get here,” Roberts said. “If it’s not, then in about a week things are going to get bad.”

“After the fourth day we’ll take turns breathing,” Bair said.

Roberts laughed weakly and then stopped himself. “Don’t want to do that,” he said. “Waste of oxygen.”

Bair began to laugh herself and then was surprised as the air from her lungs rushed the other way, pulled out by