by Jake Elwood
Conversations broke off as people turned to stare at him.
"I'm Captain Thrush of the Kestrel. The United Worlds have just been attacked by the Dawn Alliance. We're now in a state of war. The fleet at Garnet has been attacked, and Sunshine Base is in immediate danger. I'm here to evacuate Argo."
All around the plaza people gaped at him. Then eyes began to drift upward to where Fred Nebula was still belting out a love ballad. Gradually conversations resumed.
The man and woman sitting at Tom's table rose, moved to another table, and sat down.
Tom stared around the plaza, flabbergasted. Then he hopped down and walked over to the marines. As he arrived, a couple of familiar figures joined them. Hoskins and Roget were two of the former pirates assigned to the Free Bird. "We've been trying to get people to board the ship," said Hoskins. "No one seems to quite believe us."
"Unger," said Tom. "I don't want you to puncture the dome or injure anyone. But I want you to destroy that projector." He pointed up at Fred Nebula.
Unger grinned. "Yes, Sir." The marines had left their rifles on the Kestrel, but they wore sidearms. Unger drew his pistol, checked the settings, then lifted the gun and took careful aim. The pistol hummed, light flashed, and Fred Nebula went silent in the middle of a drawn-out high note.
Incredulous faces turned to stare at Tom and his people as sparks rained down from the holo projector. Somebody said, "Hey, you can't do that!"
Tom thought back to Basic Officer Training, remembering how Carpenter had so effortlessly dominated the platoon and bent them to his will. The man's utter contempt would not go amiss in this situation, either.
"Listen up," Tom said, trying to emulate Carpenter's way of projecting his voice without quite shouting. "We are at war. I can promise you this entire base will be in flames within a week. Dawn Alliance troops are coming, and they're going to do a lot worse than destroy your holo projector. They'll take whoever they can use for slave labor, and they'll chase the rest of you outside to choke to death while they loot the domes. I don't know how long you have. It could be days; it could be hours. It might already be too late. You need to evacuate, and you need to evacuate now." He glared around at the listening crowd, letting his disgust show. "Any questions?"
Someone said, "You can't be serious."
Tom snarled, "Do I look like I'm trying to be funny? Don't stand here yapping at me. Go and collect your loved ones and get onto a ship."
He had their attention now. They believed him. He could see alarm on every face, but still no one moved. Then a man came around the base of the tree, a stout figure in a dark uniform, and Tom saw flashes of relief on some of the faces around him. This was an authority figure they recognized, someone they trusted to put things right.
Tom eyed the man as he came bustling up. He wore a black uniform with red epaulets and a red stripe on the legs of his trousers. He didn't have a gun, but some sort of hand stunner hung from his belt. He had to be a local constable. He arrived out of breath, his face red and angry.
"What do you think you're doing? You can't disturb the peace like this." The man looked from Tom to the marines, then stared at the pistol Unger still held in one hand. He touched a nervous tongue to his lips.
"Peace is over," Tom said. "We're at war now, and you need to flee."
The man said, "But …" His voice trailed off.
"Do you have a family?" Tom said softly.
The constable nodded, his eyes wide.
"Go and get them. Put them on a ship. Do it now."
For a long time the man stared into Tom's face. Then he turned, his movements quick and jerky, and started across the plaza.
By the time he'd gone a dozen paces he was running.
That was all it took. People left the plaza, moving in every direction, some of them making calls on data gloves or with their implants as they hurried away.
"Sir," said Unger, and pointed.
A group of people came toward the base of the tree, fighting the flow of people leaving the plaza. Two men and two women, they were dressed like spacers in matching jumpsuits in dark red with orange trim. As they drew close Tom saw a logo stenciled on the front of each jumpsuit, a stylized rocket ship with a ringed planet behind it.
The group stopped in front of Tom. A middle-aged black woman said, "Captain … Flush?"
"Thrush."
"I'm Captain Cosgrove of the Thornapple." She jerked a thumb at the far side of the dome. "We're docked by Dome Four."
"You need to help evacuate civilians," Tom said.
"Of course." She searched his face. "Do you have any idea how long we have?"
Tom shook his head. "Could be minutes. Could be weeks."
"Well, we're set up to carry fifteen passengers in style, thirty if they're willing to put up with some crowding. I expect we could carry sixty for an emergency transit to Garnet."
"That's great," Tom said, relieved. "We'll start directing people toward your ship."
She nodded. "We'll go warm up the engines." She gestured to her crew and they rounded the tree.
"We're taking this batch and leaving, Cap," Hoskins said.
Tom looked at him, startled. Roget was on his way to a side corridor, a couple of dozen refugees trailing behind him. These were the first people to respond to Tom's warning. They carried only a few possessions, clustering together and exchanging tense, frightened looks.
"Good," said Tom. "Launch immediately. I'll see you at Garnet."
"Right," said Hoskins, and hurried after Roget.
For the next few minutes people trickled into the plaza, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups. The families disturbed Tom the most. A war zone with the Dawn Alliance involved was no place for children. Some of the evacuees approached Tom and his marines, most of them with frightened, insistent questions that Tom couldn't answer. The marines directed everyone toward Dome Four and the Thornapple.
"Keep directing traffic," Tom said. "I need to find the crew of the Spring Sunshine."
"Hang on, Sir," Lachance said, and nodded toward something behind him. Tom turned.
A man came marching across the plaza with almost a dozen people trailing behind him. The man wore a suit, and most of his followers wore business attire. He was short and bald, with a fringe of wispy grey hair above his ears and an expression of shocked indignation.
"Well, this should be fun," Tom muttered, and grinned sourly as Lachance chuckled.
The bald man planted himself in front of Tom, his entourage hanging back several paces. He drew himself up to his full height, the top of his head just a bit higher than Tom's shoulder, and glared. "I'm Administrator Pelletier!"
"Captain Thrush," Tom said wearily.
"Acting captain, didn't you say?" Pelletier folded his arms. "Let me talk to your commanding officer."
"She's dead," Tom snapped. "I told you that already."
"You've got people panicking and fleeing the station," Pelletier said. "You can't do that! You have to stop this." With the air of someone making an important pronouncement, he declared, "I want you to leave this station now."
Tom laughed. He couldn't help himself. Blood suffused the little man's face, and it just made Tom laugh harder.
"I won't have this!" Pelletier was almost shouting. "I'll have the constable remove you!"
He just wants attention, Tom realized. I don't think he cares if the Dawn Alliance is coming or not. Something is happening and he needs to be in the middle of it. Whatever people are doing, he needs to oppose it so he can be a big shot.
Tom lifted his gaze, looking over the top of Pelletier's head at the cluster of people in business suits and starched shirts. "The United Worlds is at war," he said. "This is not some kind of sick joke. They've attacked Garnet. They've attacked my ship. They've killed half my crew. This is not an abstract political debate. This is a matter of life and death. People have died already, and a lot more people are going to die before this war is over.
"Everyone who evacuates now will still be ali
ve and free a week from now. Those of you who stay," and he glanced at Pelletier, "will soon be guests of the Dawn Alliance. So make your choice, but choose quickly."
Pelletier said, "We're not going anywhere."
"The Thornapple is currently loading passengers," Tom said, ignoring him. "Dome Four."
Several of Pelletier's entourage slipped away from the group, joining the flow of evacuees.
Pelletier watched them leave, then returned his gaze to Tom. He looked shaken, as if the reality of the situation was finally sinking in.
"You need to evacuate," Tom told him softly.
"You … you have to protect us! You're the Navy. It's your job!" Pelletier seemed to swell, his uncertainty vanishing under a fresh wave of outrage. "I demand your protection!"
Tom stepped around him and walked up to one of his followers, a woman in a pinstripe suit. A hunted look came into her eyes, and she looked at the people around her, avoiding Tom's gaze.
"I need to find the Spring Sunshine," Tom said. "Can you tell me where it's docked?"
She stared at him, completely flustered, and didn't speak.
"Dome Two," said the man behind her. "Are we really at war?"
Tom, suddenly fed right up, said, "Of course we're at bloody war! Do you think I would come here and make it all up? You people are idiots!" Rage rose inside him, and he fought it. You're a captain now. Think about your mission. Navy captains don't punch civilians for asking stupid questions.
He took a deep breath and said, "Which way is Dome Two?"
No one spoke, but a man pointed to the left.
"Thank you." Tom turned his back on a sputtering Pelletier and walked away.
In a corridor on the far side of the plaza he had to push his way through a crowd of local women, all of them elderly, who muttered and glowered at him as if the war was his idea. At least they were moving in the direction of the Spring Sunshine. He got past them and made it to the connecting tunnel to Dome Two, where he found a man in an elaborate merchant captain's uniform coming toward him, a woman in a similar uniform at his elbow.
All three of them stopped. The captain doffed a hat decorated in gold braid, looked at Tom's uniform, and said, "Lieutenant?"
"Acting Captain Thrush."
That made the captain's eyebrows climb his forehead. He recovered quickly and said, "I'm Captain Mayberry of the Spring Sunshine. This is my First Officer, Lieutenant Jackson."
"I was on my way to find you," Tom said. "This base has to be evacuated immediately. Your ship will have to carry evacuees back to Garnet. It's the nearest safe place." Relatively safe, he thought, remembering the carriers coming out of the hyperspace clouds. Please, let it be safe.
Mayberry spent a moment absorbing that. "We'll do what we can, of course," he said. "I fear it may be less than you're hoping for, though." He glanced behind him. "We overtaxed our engines fleeing from those pirates. Thank you, by the way, for your assistance. We never had a chance to thank you at the time."
Tom nodded impatiently.
"We've been doing a complete overhaul. Our starboard engine is disassembled. Port Services is refurbishing the core right now." He gave Tom a pained look. "They don't expect to finish for another three days."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Where can I find Port Services?"
Chapter 26
"We haven't actually started the refurb." The burly man lifted a greasy cap from his head, scratched at a bald spot, and shrugged. "If it's an emergency, you could always put the core back in. You'll lose some efficiency, but it'll get you back to Garnet no problem." He gestured at the other side of the wide service bay that filled half of Dome Two. The engine core was an enormous thing, easily ten meters long and almost three meters wide, hanging from a couple of slings near a wall that curved to follow the shape of the dome.
Tom looked at the mechanic. His coveralls sported a name tag with "Dean" stencilled on it. Tom said, "How long will it take to reassemble everything?" He looked at Mayberry, who looked at Dean.
"You can take possession right now if you like," said Dean. "We can't help you with installation, though. Not without a new work order. And my boys are all gone to get their things. Everybody's evacuating."
"They think they're evacuating," Tom said. "The Thornapple is the only other ship in port, and it's full." It wasn't necessarily a lie. The ship might be full by now. He was ready to take on refugees in the Kestrel, but Dean didn't have to know that. "If you and your boys want to leave before the Dawn Alliance gets here, I suggest you bring them back and get this core reinstalled."
Dean's eyebrows drew together. "Here, now! You're trying to blackmail me into working for free!"
"No, you're trying to hold the rest of the civilians on Sunshine hostage. You're demanding money or you'll let everybody die."
Dean sputtered. "That's – I'm not – you can't-"
"Send Captain Mayberry an invoice later, all right? In the meantime, will you call your team and get to work?"
"This isn't fair," Dean said plaintively.
"Half my crew is dead," Tom said. "Don't talk to me about fair."
Dean's shoulders slumped, and he nodded. He tilted his head to one side, activating his implants, and twitched his fingers in the air. "I need all of you back in the shop right away. Don’t give me no attitude, either. The only way we're getting out of here is on the Spring Sunshine, and that means we gotta put that core back in, right away." He tilted his head the other way, then sighed. "We'll get right on it."
"How long will it take?" Tom said.
"Two hours, everything goes well." Dean scratched his bald spot again. "That's if we do everything proper. We cut corners, we can get 'er done in an hour." He frowned. "Do we got two hours?"
Tom shrugged. "Probably?"
"We'll do it right, then," Dean said. "It's safer. Any hostile ships turn up, we'll speed things up."
"My crew is at your disposal if we can help," Mayberry said.
"Thanks, Cap'n," Dean said. "Actually, if you want to spot for me, I'll bring the big hauler over and we'll get the core out of the sling."
The two men moved away, Dean talking and pointing. Jackson grinned at Tom and said, "That was some nice diplomacy, Captain."
He chuckled. "The things they don't teach you in Basic Training."
"Dean's a good guy," she said. "He won't try to send us an invoice. Once he thinks it through he'll be ashamed he even brought it up."
"How many passengers can your ship take?"
"Twenty, officially," Jackson said. "I'm sure we can do fifty or sixty if we have to. They won't be too happy by the time we reach Garnet, but we'll make it." She smiled ruefully. "If we have to lug them all the way back to Earth they'll mutiny, and I won't blame them."
"I'm sure it won't come to that," Tom said. I hope it won't come to that.
"I better go help," Jackson said. She turned to follow Mayberry, and Tom headed back to the plaza.
"The Thornapple's gone, Sir."
Tom nodded to Unger. "That's good, I guess." He looked around the plaza, which was filling with refugees. They stood in clusters, bags and parcels heaped around their feet, fidgeting or talking quietly. "What's going on here?"
"They're using this as a gathering point while they waits for the Spring Sunshine to start boarding." He pointed. "These fellas are organizing it."
Tom looked where he pointed and saw a heavyset woman in the same dark uniform as the constable he'd spoken to earlier. She tried to walk past a group of evacuees, stopped when someone plucked at her sleeve, and spoke to them, her hands making placating motions in the air.
A man in the same uniform approached, spoke to her briefly, then looked around, spotted Tom, and headed toward him. Tom was surprised to recognize the same constable who'd accused him of disturbing the peace.
"Captain Thrush," the constable said as he came to a halt. "Mr. Unger."
Unger said, "Hello, Smitty."
Tom said, "I thought you'd be on the Thornapple."
"I
have my duty," Smitty said. He reddened a bit. "Once I stopped panicking." He gestured around the plaza. "This is everybody. We've been through every dome. Dominik and Shirley are making a final sweep of Domes Three and Four, but if there's anybody left, they're hiding."
Tom surveyed the plaza, doing a quick count. Roughly three dozen people stood under the tree or sat on benches or at picnic tables. The Spring Sunshine would be able to take all of them without much trouble. "Good work."
"The only ones who are going to be a problem are that lot." Smitty nodded toward a cluster of people standing in front of an empty café. "They refuse to leave. They say somebody has to stay and take care of the base." He snorted. "They seem quite offended with the rest of us for abandoning them."
Tom looked toward the group and found them all glaring in his direction. It was Pelletier's followers, looking stiff and angry in their business suits. He couldn’t see Pelletier at first, until the man peered around the shoulder of a taller woman to shoot daggers at Tom with his eyes.
"I suppose we'll have to haul them out by force," Tom said. "Not until all the civilians are loaded, though." He looked at Smitty. "I could use your help for that. You and your team."
Smitty didn't look happy at the prospect, but he nodded. "If we're abandoning the base, I guess I don't have to worry about them firing me."
Tom chuckled. "That's the spirit. It should be about two hours until they start boarding." He thought for a moment. "Actually, it's two hours until the ship should be able to lift off. We should get people boarding in about an hour and a half."
Smitty's eyes slid sideways as he checked the time on his implants. "Can do," he said. "I'll go talk to Captain Mayberry." He hurried away.
"If we leaves the morons behind, everybody else will have a lot more elbow room," Unger said.
"Don't tempt me." Tom took a deep breath, looking around. "What am I forgetting?"
"I can't think of anything," Unger said. "That's life in the military. You spends a lot of time standing around waiting for the other side to do something." He gestured in the direction of the Spring Sunshine. "Or waiting for somebody else to do their part."
