Echoes of Avarice

by Brendan O'Neill

  “Still five minutes from charged,” said a small man in the corner as he looked at his engineering display.

  The captain gave a nod to the communications officer who reactivated the comm system. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible,” she said. “I have transmitted confirmation of my orders to meet with Admiral Rhondak’s fleet. I do not have the time to…”

  “We will be in firing range in 15 seconds,” interrupted the voice from the communication’s system. “If your engines aren’t powered down by then, we have orders to open fire. Viper One out.”

  “If you fire on us, we will be forced to defend ourselves,” Captain Chen said. Silence. Her next words were quiet and pleading. “Viper One, if you open fire, you will be attacking fellow Fleet members. Not ka’Rathi, but Fleet. Worse, if you do this, you may start something even bigger.” Again silence. It stretched for long seconds and nerves were at the breaking point when a resigned voice answered through the communications system.

  “The same could be said of you, Ilmarinen.”

  “Missile contact!” shouted the tactical officer. His bald head ran with sweat as he studied his screen. “Eight incoming at four seconds out.”

  “Defense turrets!” shouted Captain Chen. “And get a firing solution on those fighters for our light lancers!”

  Relative silence descended upon the bridge as the tactical officer worked. Fingers tapping on consoles and everyone’s heavy breathing were the only sounds to be heard for almost two full seconds.

  “One missile got through,” the tactical officer said looking up at his captain. “Impact will be forward cargo bay 1.” A split second later, an explosion rocked the ship. Claxons rang out and emergency lights flashed.

  “Lancers return fire!” she shouted. “And shut off that blasted alarm!”

  The tactical officer worked his console furiously. “The fighters are moving too fast for the light lancers,” he said. “And the surface is continuing to launch ordinance from their planetary missile batteries. Only the turrets are fast enough to track the fighters, but they’re needed to intercept the incoming missiles.”

  “Are we still in range to turn our heavy lancer onto the planetary weapons batteries?” the captain asked.

  All eyes turned to the tactical officer. He swallowed several times, hesitating in his answer. “Yes,” he finally answered. “For another 97 seconds.”

  “Kill the engines, our momentum will continue to carry us forward,” she said. “Rotate the ship so the heavy lancer is in line. Remove those batteries.”

  The conn officer glanced around the bridge crew before uttering a quiet “Yes ma’am.”

  “Captain,” the tactical officer said. His voice caught once as he spoke. “We-we’ll be firing on our own people.”

  “They’re firing on us, Lieutenant Riley,” Captain Chen said. “If we don’t do something, we won’t survive.”

  The tactical officer didn’t respond except to look at his display. He worked his console for a moment before speaking. “First battery targeted.” He never looked up as he spoke.

  “Fire.”

  Lieutenant Riley ’s finger hesitated over the activation button, indecision and conflict tearing at his face. Caught between orders and infamy, survival and death, the officer seemed to not even breath as he wrestled with his conscience. His finger hovered for eternal seconds over the button before it finally descended.

  A bright beam of light erupted from the ship to stab down upon the planet’s surface. When the beam shut down all that could be seen on the ship’s main display was a single hole in the clouds and a tiny smoking crater on the planet surface.

  The ship rocked again from another missile impact, but it seemed less urgent this time. At ten seconds intervals, the tactical officer pressed the button three more times and three more beams of light pierced the atmosphere of the planet. Without the planet to add its missiles to that of the fighters, the cargo ship’s pulse turrets quickly shredded the fighters.

  The Ilmarinen was safe, but Zlotoff base had lost its best defenses.

  Captain Chen stared at the image of Zlotoff IV on the screen for a moment, an uncomfortable silence laying over the bridge like a blanket. The eyes of her crew focused on her for direction.

  “Are there any more fighters?” she asked quietly.

  “Six more launched, but they won’t reach us before our jump engines are ready.”

  “Then turn us back around.” Captain Chen rubbed her forehead. “And jump when we’re ready.” The woman stood and marched to the open doorway where Connor and the others stood. She eyed each, her searing gaze finishing on Nataliya.

  “You better be right about this,” she hissed in a whisper only they could hear.

  “I am sorry,” the tall Ukrainian whispered back. “Your own brother wouldn’t lie to you. What just happened will only be the opening salvo into something that will quickly grow much larger. I’m sorry you had to be the one to pull the trigger, but this war was coming whether we want it to or not.”

  Captain Chen’s eyes narrowed at them for a moment before turning back to her crew. “Set course for the coordinates provided,” she barked. “And get them off my bridge!”

  With a security officer escorting them, they filed off the bridge. They were led to their deluxe accommodations of seven cots in an empty storage closet. The space inside the room was so tight that those with cots in the back had to shuffle and stumble past those in the front. Still, it was private and it had a tiny viewscreen with the usual data port. Connor smiled as he patted the memory rod in his pocket. At least they’d have some entertainment.

  Connor took a cot in the back, sitting heavily in sudden fatigue. Most of the others immediately left to find the showers. While Akshay dropped onto a cot nearest to him, Nataliya sat on the cot that was end to end with Connor’s.

  “Any idea where we’re headed?” he asked. The woman shook her head.

  “Don’t know, don’t care. I’m just looking forward to having some time where we don’t have to think about all this.”

  “I think we’re all looking forward to that,” Connor replied, jutting his chin toward the loudly snoring Indian. He placed his data rod in the viewscreen’s data port, then laid down on his cot. The Ukrainian woman laid on her own cot and, with their heads only inches apart, they spent the next few hours whispering and giggling like children on a sleepover. Each took turns sharing experiences and opinions that no one could possibly know, yet were still strangely familiar to the other. But, by the time the others returned from their shower and dinner, exhaustion had taken its toll. The two siblings of a psychic bond had joined Akshay in a chorus of snoring.