A Hero for the Empire: The Dragon's Bidding, Book 1

by Christina Westcott

  “She’s a hero—my hero—and I want to be just like her.”

  “FitzWarren, you’re nothing like Ransahov.” He rose to get another cup of coffee.

  The remark hit Fitz like a kick in the stomach. What did he mean by that?

  The chime of the jump warning sounded and Lizzy announced, “Five minutes until we arrive at Lyric-A.”

  “I’ll be on the bridge.” Fitz stalked out of the common room, her back rigid.

  The dim coolness of the tiny control room welcomed her as she slid into the right seat. The overhead monitors displayed only the uniform grayness of the Alcubierre warpbubble. The two large screens above the control panel doubled as communications and tactical, but could display feeds from any of the external cameras. Despite the bridge’s location deep inside the ship, that often gave Fitz the impression there was nothing between her and stars but a sheet of armorglass. She curled up, tucked her legs beneath her and cradled her cup in both hands.

  The door slide open, flooding the bridge with light. Youngblood settled into the other seat, the scratch of claws on upholstery warning her that Jumper accompanied him.

  The final jump warning sounded, presaging the momentary stomach twisting disorientation of translation back to real space. The monitors displayed a wave of rainbow light breaking over the ship, flowing around it like a skim of oil on water. The center split apart, and they were through, the universe awaiting them on the other side. Somewhere out there, Lyric-A’s red dwarf primary hid amid the blaze of a million suns.

  She turned to find Youngblood watching her, a smile on his face.

  “I know this seems a bit strange,” she said. “But it’s kind of a ritual when I’m alone on Lizzy. I always watch the translation back to real space. It feels like the universe is being reborn just for me—my own private Big Bang. I suppose it’s similar to those people on planets who never miss a sunset or moonrise.”

  “Not odd at all. I often run out to the edge of the escarpment at Ishtok and watch the sun come up from atop the falls.”

  “So that’s what you do when you’re out running around at 0-dark-30?”

  “Guilty.” He chuckled, turning away to study the starscape on the monitors. The smile disappeared. “Ship, why haven’t we jumped out? As per my directions, we should be in-system no more than thirty seconds.”

  “Those instructions exceeded normal operational parameters for civilian freighters of this size and tonnage, Colonel. The regulations state I need a minimum of fifteen minutes to stabilize the jump engines and reorient myself.”

  “I don’t give a damn what the regulations say. I gave you an order and I expect you to obey it. The purpose of this maneuver is to get us out of here before anyone can follow us through and get a bearing on where we’re headed. Now turn around and get us out of this system as quickly as you can.”

  Fitz intervened. “Lizzy, just do as he said.” With these two arguing about every course correction, this was going to be a very long journey. She watched the starscape swing around as the ship started to turn.

  “You are being overly alarmist, Colonel. As you can see, no one has followed us into this system.” Lizzy’s voice carried a humanlike condescension.

  “Not yet, but I wouldn’t congratulate yourself until we’re back into jumpspace.”

  “Which we will be shortly. Approaching the hyperlimit in four minutes, twenty-seven seconds…”

  One of the screens changed to tactical, displaying a single pulsing red dot. Fitz unfolded her legs, shifted to the edge of her seat and put her half-empty cup on the console. Youngblood mumbled an expletive.

  “I have detected an unknown vessel moving in our direction.” All the argument evaporated from the ship’s voice. “It is ten light seconds out and closing on our position.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “There’s a lot of mining in this system. It could be an ore hauler outbound to the hyperlimit.” Fitz’s voice held more hope than confidence.

  “Possibility,” said Youngblood. “But where did it come from? Unless your ship is exceedingly sloppy on her scans, there was nothing there a few seconds ago.”

  “It could have been drifting with some kind of mechanical problem and just gotten back underway.” Fitz knew how unlikely that sounded even as she said it.

  “Unknown object’s forward speed is still climbing,” announced Lizzy.

  “Bloody hell, not a heavy hauler, not with that kind of acceleration.”

  “How long before you get us a positive identification, Lizzy?”

  “Momentarily, Commander. I am having trouble locking on to their signal.”

  “A bloody ID isn’t necessary. Only military ships accelerate like that. My guess would be a corvette.” Youngblood reached for the ship’s controls, but stopped, content only to drum his fingers on the arm of the seat.

  “What I can’t figure out is why it’s out here.” Fitz watched the red dot tracking closer to their position. “The Empire wouldn’t put pickets in these out-of-the-way systems. It’s almost as if they expected us to show up here. You sure you don’t have another spy in your organization?”

  Youngblood scowled. “I didn’t tell anyone which system we were jumping into. In fact, I didn’t decide until I gave the ship her instructions. The only people who knew we were headed for Lyric-A are right here on this bridge. And I bloody well didn’t tell anybody.”

  “Neither did I,” Fitz protested.

  “Don’t look at me.” Jumper’s ears flattened.

  “Lizzy?” she asked.

  “I was very discreet when I filed our flight plan.”

  “You did what?” Youngblood shouted.

  “I had to file a flight plan, Colonel. With our cover as an independent freight carrier, I’m required to do so, or risk attracting unwanted attention from Alliance Customs Officials. It isn’t wise to give them a reason to board us. I commed the Rainbow Prime System Controller directly, not going through any of the intermediary offices.”

  Fitz rubbed her forehead. “But did you have to tell them where we were actually going? You could have lied.”

  “And when I didn’t show up at that fictional destination?”

  Youngblood leaned back in his seat, eyes closed. “Let me see, you filed a flight plan via an open transmission, which was intercepted by a stealthed Imperial ship—the ghost that’s been showing up on all our scans. He in turn tight beamed it out to the corvette, which was sitting out at the hyperlimit. And since that warship is a hell of a lot quicker that this piece of junk, it would have had time to reach the Lyric-A system, find a strategic place to park, go silent and wait for our arrival.”

  “Lizzy, can we make it to the hyperlimit before it overtakes us?” Fitz asked.

  “Easily, although its speed is still climbing.”

  “It’s not that corvette I’m worried about, it’s her missiles,” said Youngblood.

  Three bright sparks separated from the warship’s icon as if his words had conjured them into existence.

  “Estimated time of missile impact one minute thirty-four seconds,” Lizzy announced. “Two minutes seventeen seconds until hyperlimit.”

  “Raise shields, Lizzy,” Fitz said.

  Youngblood turned to her, eyebrow quirked in question. “Shields? On this bucket of bolts? You wouldn’t happen to have any other surprises, would you? Like a point defense system?”

  “You might find that this bucket of bolts has a sting; don’t you, Lizzy? Now bring up the dorsal laser cannon and patch fire control through to my inhead display.”

  “I’ll fly the ship.” He reached for the controls.

  “I’m quite capable of handling myself,” Lizzy replied.

  “How many battles have you been in?”

  “Well, none actually…”

  “Then give me control of the bleeding ship before I start rippin
g out your circuits.”

  “You don’t have to get violent, Colonel.”

  Youngblood leaned over the panel, fingers flying over the controls, tweaking here, adjusting there. The drive’s power readings edged up into the red zone.

  “Buy me a few seconds with that laser, and I’ll get us to the hyperlimit—hopefully in one piece. Jumper, go to the life pod and get in your carrier.”

  The cat clung to the back of Youngblood’s seat. “I’m okay right here, Boss.”

  “Get in the carrier and seal it up. If anything goes wrong, light off the life pod’s beacon and hope like hell someone picks you up.”

  Jumper’s ears flattened against his skull, but he leaped from the seat and dashed down the corridor.

  Fitz watched the three blips rushing toward them on tactical, predators hot for the kill. They would be in range of her laser momentarily. The first one would be easy to take out, thinking it was attacking only an unarmed freighter. The artificial intelligences controlling the other two would learn from the death of their companion and take evasive action. She’d have to be quick. And lucky.

  She fired, and the leading missile dissolved in a cloud of shrapnel. The remaining two veered off in different directions, causing her next shot to miss. She tracked a corkscrewing target, trying to determine which way it would jink next. Her shot caught only the back end of the missile and spun it off course. Not a clean kill, but the bird lost target lock and swerved off.

  Where was the third one? She reacquired her target as the missile dropped below their flight path, moving out of range of her dorsal mounted laser. It would come up from below them, aiming for their weakest spot, directly behind their drives where the shields couldn’t cover. A “shot up the ass” was the reason no ship driver wanted to find herself in a stern chase.

  “It’s coming up our butt from underneath. Take evasive action.”

  Youngblood chopped the drives, using the maneuvering thrusters to force the nose down. The rear of the ship rotated upward, pitching to present her shielded belly to the attack. Too late to correct its course, the missile slammed into the freighter, sending it tumbling. Alarms wailed. Fitz’s cup flew off the console, spilling hot coffee in her lap.

  “Hull breach in cargo bay two,” Lizzy announced. “I’ve sealed off the area.”

  “Bloody hell, this thing handles like a trash barge.” Youngblood fought to stabilize the ship’s wild gyrations, finally bringing the freighter back to a level course and ramming the throttle to full.

  Three more blips separated from the corvette’s icon. “More birds on the way, but they can’t reach us before we make translation to jumpspace. I think we’re home free now,” Lizzy said.

  Tension flowed out of Fitz’s shoulders. She sighed, closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat.

  “What’s that?” asked Youngblood.

  Fitz’s eyes flew open. On the display, a diffuse red patch had appeared directly ahead of them. “Hyper disturbance.” She hissed through her teeth as the icon grew more substantial. “Something’s coming through. Something large.”

  Youngblood angled the ship around. At this speed the turn was shallow but the inertial dampeners complained with a high-pitched whine that set Fitz’s nerves on edge. An ominous groan built deep inside Lizzy.

  “I’ve identified the object entering the system as a Gryphon class light cruiser, specifically the Gladius. The ship’s attached to Home Guard, one of Ashcraft’s.” Lizzy broke off, then continued, her voice taking on an edge that in a human might be construed as fear. “The Gladius has launched missiles, three…no, six.”

  Youngblood locked eyes with Fitz. “She launched a spread from both forward bays on this side, so she’s not trying to disable us. She wants us dead. By veering off, we’ve increased the distance to the hyperlimit. There’s no way we can reach it before those missiles are all over us like flies on shit. Can your laser handle six?”

  They both knew the answer to that question.

  “Lizzy,” Fitz said. “It’s time to light the torch.”

  Youngblood’s eyes widened. “Torch? As in an L-14 tug-ship’s drive? You’ve got a torch stuck up this thing’s ass? That would tear a ship like this apart. Not to mention what would happen to us when the inertial compensator fails.”

  “This thing might look like a Loki-6, but she was rebuilt from the keel up around that drive. It was designed as a last resort to get the ship and agent—and any important information they were carrying—out of an impossible situation.”

  He settled back in his seat and cinched his restraints tighter. “Well, I certainly think this qualifies as your hypothetical impossible situation.”

  “Lizzy, hold us on course for the shortest distance to the hyperlimit,” Fitz ordered. “And blow the panels disguising the drive. With a little luck, some of the missiles will lock onto the debris.”

  A sharp bang echoed through the ship as the aft end blew off, pieces tumbling away.

  The formation of missiles split, veering off to lock onto their substitute objectives. The explosions overloaded the ship’s tactical display with a blast of white fire, but the remaining three birds veered around the expanding cloud of debris, reacquiring their target. One raced ahead of its fellows like a hound hard on the scent of its prey.

  “I’m engaging the torch…”

  “No, Lizzy. I’ll do it.” Fitz slid back a panel on the console, exposing the controls. She flipped up the cover on the switch, stabbed her thumb on it.

  Thunder rolled through the ship, building as she eased the throttle forward. The bulkheads rattled, and the deck plates buzzed. The inertial compensator’s whine grew into a scream as it fought to absorb the acceleration, but Fitz still found herself pushed relentlessly back into her seat. The pressure on her chest increased. Unsecured objects crashed in the crew quarters behind her. Somewhere beneath the deck she heard a metallic clang.

  She continued to push the slide forward.

  The images on the monitors vibrated and shook so hard, she couldn’t focus on them. If Lizzy was still updating her, it was lost in the noise of the ship shaking apart around her. She shut down all her auditory augments, leaving only normal hearing, but the cacophony pounded against her mind relentlessly.

  “Hyperlimit in twelve seconds, Commander. Missile impact in ten.” Lizzy’s voice came over Fitz’s internal comm link.

  She could feel the inertial compensator’s screams buzzing around in her chest, but the sound had risen about the level of human hearing. Apparently not a cat’s. A long howl of feline anguish curled through her thoughts.

  She advanced the slide further until it hit a stop.

  “You’ve reached eighty percent of the drive’s capacity.” Lizzy informed her. “Based on the initial test runs, it is suggested you take it no higher.”

  “Is that going to be enough?” Fitz’s words came out in a hoarse whisper.

  “I’m afraid not, Commander. The missile will reach us just over a second before we jump out.”

  Youngblood’s voice came in over her comm link, his words labored. “Hitting…jump point at this speed’s…going to make a rough translation.”

  Fitz could only nod her agreement, pushing the throttle beyond the stop. The ship groaned, crashing and grinding sounds almost continual now. She could hardly force her chest to expand, to pull in air.

  The slide jammed, refused to move further.

  “That’s all there is, Commander,” Lizzy said.

  She felt a touch on her arm, as Youngblood walked his hand up to her wrist to twine around her fingers. She returned his grip with a fierce squeeze. Against the crushing pressure, she could only turn her gaze to him. He stared back at her with those heart-stopping blue eyes.

  “Hyperlimit in one second. Missile…”

  No time to activate the crash web now. “Shut. Up. Lizzy.”
>
  Impact. Fitz felt like a doll thrown against a stone wall by a cosmic-sized child. Every molecule in her being recoiled from the pain. A blizzard of debris—tools, data tablets, coffee cups—engulfed the bridge, careering from the bulkheads and deck plates.

  She had time to identify the object hurtling toward her as a 24mm spanner before it crashed into her forehead and carried her away into the darkness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fitz woke to a brush of dampness on her cheeks, the touch moving up, dabbing at her forehead. Pain jolted her eyes wide.

  Youngblood studied her from centimeters away. “Hold still. You’ve got a bad cut here, and I can’t get the bleeding stopped.” He placed her hand on the cloth pressed against her brow. “Keep pressure on it. I’ll be back in a second.”

  With the bridge lights out, the flicker of the back-ups cast the room in shifting shadow. A few of the control panel’s tell-tales shone green, but most glowed yellow. Far too many blinked red. She frowned as she noticed the display for the sublight engines was dark. Debris covered every surface, bits of twisted metal, broken plastic and pieces of clothing. A spanner lay in her lap, one end crusted with blood. She remembered that flying at her just before…

  “Lizzy, what’s our status?”

  “She probably won’t answer you. I’ve got her running diagnostics on all her systems.” Youngblood stepped onto the bridge carrying two mugs. He knelt beside her seat and pushed one into her hand “Here, drink this.”

  “How bad are we hurt?”

  “Bad.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “Now drink up. This will help.”

  She sniffed the steaming liquid, identifying it as sweet spiced tea, but with a secondary aroma. It burned like super-heated plasma flowing down her throat as she took a deep drink. Her eyes watered, and she gasped between coughs. “What is this stuff?”

  “Chai,” he said. “With rum.”

  “Great, now you’ve reprogrammed my processor to make liquor.” The second gulp tasted much better.

  “Of course not. No one with even the slightest hint of sophistication drinks rum made by a processor, not on Rainbow anyway. One of the byproducts of its sugar cane industry is some of the finest rums in the Human Sector. I brought a bottle with me, for medicinal purposes, of course.” He drained his cup.