The Requiem of Steel

by David Adams

  It was only then, as the ship detached from The Hold of Eternity and began to move away, did it slowly began to sink in. It was happening. She was going home.

  Operations

  TFR Knight

  “Broadswords are on our scopes again,” said Lieutenant Eng. “Tracking their thermal profile. The ships have left Zar’Krun. Both birds are maintaining radio silence.”

  Sabeen nibbled on her lower lip, worry and doubt creeping into her mind. There was no guarantee that they had recovered Liao… or anyone. Without radio transmissions, she was blind. The only information they had were the two tiny dots on the infrared cameras slowly pulling away from the much larger dot on the surface of the Toralii planetoid. “Time for recovery?”

  Gurruwiwi spoke up. “Based on their current speed, the Broadswords will rendezvous with us in… two hours, fifty minutes.”

  “Guess we didn’t need the Rubens after all.” Assuming, of course, they were even still alive. Somehow, Magnet always made it back, though.

  “Guess not,” Jazz said. “We did it, Captain.”

  The premature congratulations irked her. “Not yet. Not until those Broadswords are back aboard and we jump away.” She stifled a yawn. How many hours had she been awake? It seemed like over twenty. Longer? “Inform me when they get close. Are there any signs of alarm?”

  “Not yet,” Eng said. “If the facility got out a distress signal, we didn’t detect it.”

  The Operations room fell silent, save for the clicking of keys and the soft whirring of fans. Sabeen felt herself nod off. She always felt sleepy in zero gravity… it was just so relaxing and safe, like being in the womb. She scrunched up her feet in her boots to keep herself alert. Not long now. Just a few hours until recovery. Then they could jump away, complete the remainder of her duties with the mission, then take a well-earned sleep. No dramas.

  No dramas…

  “Contact,” Eng said, the urgency in his voice kicking her out of her lethargy. “Captain, we have a thermal contact on passive sensors. Designated Skunk Alpha. Bearing 161 mark 002. It’s in the jump point.”

  Suddenly, she was all business. “A new ship?”

  “Aye aye, Captain. A big one. Possibly Triumph class or possibly a Toralii Cruiser.”

  That was a technical way of saying, Maybe we have reinforcements, or maybe we are fucked. Neither option was truly good. If it was the fleet, that meant the rest of the fleet was coming to her position, the heralds of some of massive problem requiring her attention, not to mention blowing their cover. However, if a Toralii Cruiser with its advanced sensors and weapons had just jumped in on their neighbourhood… that was a situation she did not want to consider.

  “Or?” Jazz asked. “Which one is it?”

  Eng shook his head, short hair spinning in zero gravity. “Can’t possibly know, Captain. Not without active sensors.”

  Active sensors would give them away. They were doing a good job of pretending to be debris, and they were hours away from a Lagrange point. If they needed to jump out, they would have to fight their way across tens of thousands of kilometres of empty space. An unappealing prospect.

  A series of lights flashed on the ceiling above her and also on the sensors station. The glow lit Eng’s face. “Captain, radiological emissions from Skunk Alpha. Sensor patterns match Toralii Cruisers.” He paused, consulting his console. “We are being scanned.”

  Well shit.

  “Time to end the game,” Sabeen said. “On my mark, do the following. Jazz, break radio silence on my authority. Transmit to the Broadswords: The game is up. Split up, turn and burn, move to alternate extraction points L3 and L4 and jump as soon as you are able. Eng, end emissions silence and enable active radar. Restore artificial gravity and bring the ship to combat alertness. Gurruwiwi, plot us a course the fuck away from here to the L2 Lagrange point and fire up maximum thrust. We are going to burn like hell and give the Cruiser something else to shoot at that’s not our Broadswords. Charge weapons and hope these Toralii plasma guns are as good as Captain Williams says they are.” She took a deep breath. “Mark.”

  Gravity came on like a giant’s hand to her chest, pulling her down to the deck. She stumbled and nearly smashed her face into her console. The whole ship lurched as it turned, and lights sprung to life all over Operations. The crew leapt into action, all talking at once.

  “Broadswords Igniter and Warsong,” Jazz said, “this is the Knight. Priority alert. Break radio silence. We are compromised. I say again, we are compromised. Make for alternate jump points. How copy?”

  “Course plotted, Captain,” Gurruwiwi said. “We are accelerating towards the nearest jump point.” The ship lurched forward, pulling her away from her console and back towards the rear of the ship.

  “Weapons charging, Captain,” Eng said. “We are bringing combat systems and sensors online.”

  The ceiling above her lit up. A thousand lights appeared at the jump point and sped towards s the ship. The Toralii were firing on them.

  “Evasive manoeuvres,” she called. “Gurruwiwi, dodge that incoming.”

  Tense seconds passed. The ship lurched to one side, rotating and curving in space, pulling away from the Toralii plasma fire.

  It missed them by tens of thousands of kilometres. The distance was short in space, but more than enough for the white-hot plasma to completely bypass their tiny ship and… fly directly through the L1 Lagrange point.

  She glanced at Jazz and saw it in his eyes. He knew. They all did.

  The Toralii weren’t firing at them. They were firing at the jump point. They were trying to trap the Knight.

  There was only one thing to do. Wide-open space presented little cover, but there was one place to hide. “Gurruwiwi, swing around the other side of the planetoid, to the L1 point, using the body of the planet to shield us. Execute a gravity slingshot then head for the far Lagrange point. They can’t shoot through Mullaŋan.”

  “What about the Broadswords?” Jazz asked.

  She bit her lower lip, knowing the truth as well as he did. “They’re on their own.”

  Passenger compartment

  Broadsword Warsong

  The ship rocked again. Liao had been through enough space battles to recognise one: the acceleration and deceleration, the jerking back and forth, the faint tremor of weapon fire reverberating throughout the ship.

  Obviously, their getaway was not going so well. She knew she shouldn’t interfere—she was a passenger, nothing more, and would probably only get in the way—but she had spent too long within Toralii walls. She wanted to get involved. To help. To fight.

  More importantly, though, she wanted to tell the fleet about Anderson’s betrayal, something she should not do crammed into a ship with a squad of US marines. Yet they had come for her. It was worth the risk.

  “How are you travelling, Captain?” the marine next to her asked. She recognised him. Foley.

  “Not too bad,” Liao said. “You?”

  Foley laughed, loudly and boisterously, an almost rude gesture in the tiny metal can. “Captain, today this marine got to do what he does best. US marines are like the boogeyman to the rest of the galaxy: be good, or the marines will get you!” He slapped his own knee hard enough to hurt. “Today, we got to make our enemies afraid, and that makes today a good day, ma’am.”

  She couldn’t join in his mirthfulness—or his joy. What if he was in Anderson’s influence? How much should she talk about what Anderson had done? “Who sent you?” she asked cautiously.

  “Fleet Command,” Foley said, “which is pretty much Captain Iraj and Captain Grégoire these days.” The man’s expression was unreadable under his gas mask. “Is something wrong, ma’am?”

  James had come for her. And her XO, too…

  That alone almost made her smile. Almost. But her levity faded. “I have something very important to tell you about Anderson,” Liao said slowly, “but I need you to understand; just because he’s American…”

  Foley reached up
and pulled off the mask, blond hair spilling everywhere. “Anderson’s is from the U.S., yes, ma’am. But we don’t claim him, because in the opinion of this marine he is also a dipshit.”

  “Be that as it may—”

  “Anderson’s dead.” Foley grimaced. “The good Captain told Captain Williams everything then put his sidearm to his head.”

  “Dead?” She could barely get the words into her throat. “Are you sure?”

  Foley said nothing, but the truth was all over his face.

  Liao closed her eyes, feeling the ship rock once more. “Coward in life, coward in death—the circle closes.”

  “Aye aye, Captain.”

  Strange. She’d expected a rush of relief, but instead, there was only a vague sense of numbness and the annoying jab of an elbow into her ribs. “Broadswords are a little smaller than I remember,” Liao said.

  He jammed a thumb over his shoulder. “Feel free to head up to the CSO’s station. There’s a bit more room up there.”

  Numb, Liao unstrapped herself from her seat and, weaving her way through the crowd of marines and liberated prisoners to the ladder that led up to the CSO’s seat and the cockpit. Surprised how easily she could climb with one hand, Liao pushed open the hatch and stepped up into the narrow passage. As she lowered it, the hatch sealed with a faint hiss.

  Relieved to be away from the cramped, smelly hold crammed to capacity, she took a breath of air that wasn’t infused with the stink of twenty humans. The CSO’s seat was just there, but she couldn’t focus on it.

  Anderson was dead…

  She was going home…

  Slowly, it began to sink in.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said the CSO, a short, dark-skinned woman with bright-pink hair. She typed frantically on her keyboard without looking up from her work for a moment. “Get back in the hold with the others.”

  “Who are you?” Liao asked. It was a stupid question, but her brain was out of commission.

  Recognition dawned on the crewman. Liao’s voice was one well known to the fleet. “Sorry, Captain,” CSO said, still focused entirely on her work. “Didn’t realise it was you. Stay if you want.” She tapped at a key. The ship swung around. “And I’m Major McKenna. Royal Australian Air Force. Call me Tiny.”

  “Tiny? Like, the size, or—”

  “Yeah, like the size.”

  Liao stared.

  “It’s a long story,” said McKenna. Or Tiny. “Believe me, it’s better than the other callsign I had. Tickles.”

  Maybe it was the adrenaline from the escape or maybe something else, but Liao could not process it. “Tickles?”

  “Yeah,” Tiny said. “Because, you know. Tess. Tess Tickles.”

  Pilots.

  The ship rocked, and Tiny touched her radio. “Omelette, keep the ship steady. The gunners can’t hit shit with you swinging your dick around all the time. If you crack the Jesus nut—” She paused. “I know that, fuckhead, but if we can’t shoot back…” Another pause. “Fine. Whatever.”

  Memories of Commodore Vong’s tenure as the Beijing’s CO flooded back to her. She recalled the disconnect she felt being on a ship she didn’t command. Now she’d had a taste of command, it was difficult for her to step back, to accept that the ship was McKenna’s.

  “Major, I want to help,” Liao said. “I’ve been locked up in a cage for too long.” She leaned forward eagerly. “What’s the situation here?”

  McKenna continued to work, tapping away at her keyboard for a moment before she answered. “We were supposed to rendezvous with the Knight. But they were compromised. So we’re making our way out—” She touched her radio. “Vixen, focus. You’re leading them too much. Short bursts. Take a breath, girlfriend.” Then, almost as an aside to Liao, she said “We’re heading to the L4 Lagrange point. ETA four minutes. Igniter is going to jump first, then us.”

  Four minutes to freedom. It seemed like an eternity, which was ironic, given where she had just left. Everything in space took time… the distances were just so vast, even with their advanced technology.

  “I should have gotten on the other ship,” Liao remarked dryly.

  Tiny laughed as the ship rocked. “Don’t want to take one last look at the view?”

  Not even for a second. “The sooner this place is behind me, the happier I’ll be.”

  “Roger that,” Tiny said. “Three minutes. Step on it, Omelette. There’s a Toralii Cruiser in-system which is launching strike craft.” She paused, listening. A smile crossed her face. “I know. We’ll be long gone before they get into anything approaching weapons range.”

  Liao leaned up against the Broadsword’s bulkheads. She had a million questions; how was Saeed? How was the Beijing and the crew? How was the Knight? And Allison…

  Allison.

  “Igniter has jumped,” Tiny said, triumph in her voice. “We are next. Get ready to—” She stopped, her voice tightening. “Oh my God.”

  The whole Broadsword bucked, and with a roar like a dragon, something somewhere on the ship splintered and broke. The ship pitched forward. Liao was flung into the metal ceiling, her head whacking against the unyielding bulkhead.

  Everything got fuzzy and slowed down. The world was blurry and indistinct: the wail of decompression alarms, the hissing of escaping air, Tiny’s panicked shouting… everything seemed distant and foggy. She began drifting towards the cockpit, floating through space towards the stars.

  The hatchway to the Broadsword’s cockpit, normally sealed during combat operations, had a twisted, jagged crack in it as wide as her fist and twice as long. Air rushed out, condensing white, and beyond that was the black of space.

  Another shot hit the Broadsword, blasting the craft into a spin. Debris flew out through the tiny hole, sucked out into the void. The ship’s ventilation systems flooded more oxygen in, vainly trying to keep an atmosphere inside the ship, trying to keep her alive.

  Then another shot showered the narrow passage with white sparks, punching a glowing hole below Tiny’s console and one directly above it. The force blasted Tiny’s body into a fine red spray that painted the walls with surprising consistency.

  Against the backdrop of the stars, a cloud of sparkling debris spread across the black, and in her stunned state, it took a second to process.

  Warsong’s cockpit had completely detached, blown away by some terrific force. Behind it, occupying the hole where it once was, a Toralii cruiser’s metal hull filled the jump point like a steel wall.

  It was time. No escape. Liao stopped fighting and let the air rush out around her, let the computers wail and the fires burn. The world slipped away, and she went to her death without fear.

  When she woke up, she was staring up at the ceiling of her cell in Zar’krun.

  [“I commend you for your effort,”] Commandant Yarri said as the metal torture plates warmed up and began to glow. [“But the Toralii Alliance is not done with you yet.”]

  ACT II

  CHAPTER V

  The White Beast

  *****

  Corridor near the Infirmary

  TFR Beijing

  Earlier

  THE CLOSER THEY GOT TO the infirmary, the worse Sanders got. She almost seemed to be deteriorating by the minute, as though the only thing keeping her strength up had been anger and adrenaline. Marines were tough—Saeed had to give them that.

  “It hurts so bad,” she said, gasping air through clenched teeth. “A fuck’n stabbing pain.” She touched her abdomen, the jostling of the two nurses carrying her making pinpointing the exact position difficult. “Right here.”

  “How long?” Saeed asked as they half walked, half jogged into the infirmary.

  “About a day,” Sanders said as the two nurses loaded her onto a table. “Maybe more. Maybe.”

  A day? For an otherwise healthy marine? There were few illnesses that found manifest so seriously so quickly. “Nurse,” he said to the stretcher bearer, “draw blood. Check for urinary tract infection.” He turned back to Sand
ers. “Where is the pain?”

  “Here,” she said, pointing with a shaking finger. “Right beside the belly button.”

  The most likely cause was an appendicitis, but he knew better than to simply accept the most obvious answer. Could be pregnancy. Could be bacterial pneumonia, but the pain was too low. Could be endometriosis… or even a heart attack. Unlikely in one so fit and young. Could be a gynaecological issue, of course, but he could feel Occam’s Razor jabbing him in the ribs.

  He was assuming, of course, there was not something else much fouler at play. If he were on Earth, it would have been a simple matter. An appendicitis. The solution: appendectomy. But he’d heard whispers throughout the fleet—stories of the Toralii putting explosive devices into their prisoners before returning them. Or small gas canisters or bio-weapons…

  Saeed waved another nurse closer, putting his finger to his chin. His brain churned, running through the various possibilities. More information was necessary. He put his fingers to her abdomen, right at the spot she’d indicated, and pressed gently, checking for abdominal rigidity. Definitely. “Does that hurt?”

  “No more than usual,” she said.

  He released the pressure.

  “Ow, shit!” she curled slightly, hands balling at her sides.

  Appendicitis seemed to be more and more likely. Her pain was probably inflammation of the adjacent peritoneum. “X-ray,” he said over his shoulder. “Ready imaging. We’re going to need to be sure.”

  “This really hurts, doc’,” Sanders said, her breath coming quicker. “Fuck.”

  A nurse pulled the X-ray machine over her.

  He moved back, but he wanted to keep her listening while the imaging machine did its thing, so she could be as still as possible. “You called Anderson a blue falcon,” he said. “What’s that mean?”