“But first, eat, shower, get into clean clothes, and dress your wounds. I expect you’ll find a fully functioning medical suite, use it.” William stood. “Tero, you have the bridge.”
“Squad. Attention!” Sergeant Crow bellowed out.
All of the troops snapped up from the seats and stood at attention. They were dirty and disheveled but not anywhere near beat.
William returned the best salute he could manage and walked out.
Crow followed behind William through the narrow corridor. “Mr. Grace, that applies to you too, yes?”
William nodded, leaning against a bulkhead. “Does it show?”
“You’ll do us no good sleep deprived, bleeding, and hungry.” Crow pointed to the stump. The end was slowly spreading red. “Let’s find the medical suite.”
The pair wandered through a few corridors. William was impressed with the organization of every room he entered. Whoever ran the ship knew exactly how to keep it up. It was designed for a much larger compliment than was onboard. Reminders of the previous crew were all around: trinkets, shells, a coconut, a stiff yellow palm frond.
They found the medical suite and Crow changed the dressing. William got his first look at where his hand once was. The skin was folded back into a ragged seam like the top of a burlap bag. The color seemed unnatural and the stitches looked like something out of a cobbler shop. None of it seemed to bother Crow, who bound it firmly but gently and slapped a patch onto his shoulder.
“You’ve done this before?” William asked. The nanites numbed everything and the itching stopped.
Crow nodded and began to change a dressing on Kerry. “Yes, unfortunately. Religious cranks once. Then a docking station from Sa’Ami on Tunis.” His hands weaved a new bandage around Kerry’s shoulder. “The cranks were a pain, the Sa’Ami were few in number but they made up for it in tenacity and augmentation.” He slapped Kerry on the good shoulder. “Now git.”
A thumb worn photo of a woman standing on a green plain was stuck next to a cabinet. Crow leaned forward to give it an appraising look. “I saw quite a few amputations after that fight. The Sa’Ami moved so fast.” He let the words drift away as he nodded at the photo. “Good looking girl,” he said with a nod.
William felt the gentle sedation wrap around him like a silky blanket. Chills ran down his back and his muscles relaxed. “Woo. I’m going to need to lay down.”
“Avi! Help Mr. Grace to his quarters,” Crow called.
The Marine Private appeared from around the corner. “Here we go, Mr. Grace!” Avi called out as he helped William into the narrow corridor.
William turned to see Crow lean forward again and peer at the photo. His face looked lost in times past.
* * *
The two ships raced each other. The corvette speckled like a stream worn salmon followed by the brutish marauder with a flattened nose. There was no violence between the two at such distances. At this range, rail projectiles could be dodged and missiles could be intercepted by the mass drivers.
The marauder worked closer knowing that the advantage was his.
Through the night William had crawled off of the bed and curled up into a ball. He never awoke, it was what his body was used to. The sleep brought no dreams, and for that he was thankful. They blinked while he slept.
William walked out of the quarters and into the hallway.
“Mr. Grace.” Avi saluted. He was now cleaned, though the grit seemed to hang in the creases around his eyes. “Mr. Villeneuve asked to see you in the cargo hold once you had eaten.”
“Thank you, Avi. Have you eaten?”
Avi nodded. “I did, but I’ll gladly eat again. I’m not sure I’ll ever turn down a meal for the rest of my life, sir.”
William felt much the same way. Even once he had eaten, he had the urge to pirate away a bit of food just in case he couldn’t get to it later. It took a conscious mental effort to not stuff himself.
His mind stuck on the marauder barreling towards them. He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t beat it in a fight.
The bowl sat next to him on the table. His stub gently braced against it. He slurped down a mouthful of noodles and ran across all the simulations he’d ever been in. Nothing seemed to help. Though he was quite satisfied with the noodles.
He thought about that first day, that damned cold first day. He could have rolled over and let the cold slip into him. What made him—hell, what made them all—carry on? Survival was simple enough, but he felt it was something more. At any moment they would die. Was that where the courage came from? He didn’t know.
His father flashed through his mind. Was this how he felt? You win the day, fight to the end, and are dashed on the rocks of fate? The sound of the horses stampeding echoed through his mind. He paused, there were no horses on Farshore.
* * *
Crates and containers were opened, wedged, pried, and popped. A rough chalk marker on each door showed either a one, a zero, or a question mark. There were many zeros, a few question marks, and just a handful of ones.
Sebastien was surrounded by a sea of metallic spheres the size of a man’s head. Each was stamped with the blue and white logo of the Quebecois mineral company DythCo. Contained within was a slug of precious rhenium.
William wasn’t sure if the spheres were laid out on purpose or if they had rolled out of a burst container. “Morning, Sebastien.”
Sebastien raised a hand as he silently mouthed numbers. “Do you have any use for forty-seven spheres of Rhenium?”
“Sell them and retire on the beach?”
Sebastien nodded. “That thought crossed my mind, too.” He walked to a container with a question mark. “This one has combat armor, enhanced suits. These guys were about to leave.”
“I’m not surprised.” William walked over and peeked his head into the crate. “Looks like fun.”
“They’re overrated,” Sebastien said.
“Anything else exciting?”
Sebastien shook his head. “No.”
A single sphere clanked against its partner and began a slow roll down the length of the cargo hold. Like a cannonball of old it slid to one side and then the next before crashing into a container. An enormous divot buckled the side.
William turned and stood with Sebastien at his side. The pair watched in silence as the sphere rebounded and came to rest against a pile of strapping.
O’Toole stepped out from behind a container. “Ouch! Imagine if that hit your toe!”
William gave one of the spheres a gentle nudge. It was solid like it was bolted to the floor.
“What if you ran into one of these accelerating at 4G?” Sebastien asked.
“Time to put your beach vacation on hold, Sebastien.”
* * *
The ship suddenly descended into a bad caricature of a bowling alley. Soldiers and Marines waddled through the length of the ship with the massively heavy rhenium containers. Sebastien was able to carry a pair, and could have handled more if grip wasn’t an issue.
Men ducked and dodged as they passed each other through the tight quarters. The pile grew until it became difficult to add more without them collapsing under the weight of the pile. Netting and boxes were wedged on the edges to keep them in place.
“Will the airlock open with all that weight?” Vito asked.
William peered at the pile. He felt guilty not being able to help, but carrying a sphere was rather difficult without two hands.
“It’ll open. It might not close, but it will open,” Tero said.
The service airlock on the rear of the corvette was smaller than the cargo airlocks. When they opened the door, if it opened, the spheres would pass out and remain on the same vector. With any luck the dense metal would impact on the marauder. He didn’t know if it would be enough energy to break the repulsors, but they had to do something.
The Hun marauder was rapidly closing. At 4Gs of acceleration they were traveling nearly one percent of the speed of light. If it could be slowed even
a little they could make the next blink and then the efficiency would gain them even more distance.
Eduardo was the last man to thunk one of the spheres into a pile. His arms were knotted and strained as he gently squatted down and deposited the sphere. His arms almost seemed to glow with tattoos of fire and stone. His face was set and intense as he saluted and walked off.
The almost comical logo made it look like a pile of monogrammed volleyballs. A small crowd was crouched and tucked into the hallway, eager to watch the payload get delivered.
“Mr. Tero, if you please,” William said, as he beckoned to the spheres.
Tero smiled and nodded. “As a kid we’d do something similar.” He tapped the console and the inner door closed and sealed with a pop. “We’d suit up and tuck inside an airlock. Hit the override and pop the outer door.” The display showed the vacuum level rising as it was pumped in with a hum. “And then whoosh! You’d shoot out! In Mars’s gravity you could really get some distance.” With a final tap he activated the override and the outer door began to open.
All eyes watched as the mass strained for a split second. An audible unconscious “Ooooh” began as first one, then another, then all of the spheres were sucked out. It sounded like stamping hooves as the spheres smacked against the airlock door. Frost grew on the inner window as the moisture condensed.
“Whoops. I think we broke it,” Tero said, as he tried to close the door.
Chuckles echoed from the crowd.
The spheres were now waiting in space, still moving forward, but at a much slower speed than the marauder. Far behind, the marauder continued charging forward at full acceleration.
* * *
“Noodles, Mr. Grace?” Avi asked, setting down a plastic bowl.
William nodded and slid the bowl closer. The sweet tangy aroma tickled his nostrils. He’d been hungry, even though his stomach was full. Just feeling the texture of the noodles was luxurious. The first bite was his new simple pleasure.
“So uh, how much longer, Mr. Grace?”
“Hmm?” William swallowed the noodles. “’Til we blink?”
“’Til they run into the cannonballs, sir.”
William liked how they referred to them as cannonballs, the most precious cannonballs ever lobbed. “Another hour or so, and you know they probably won’t even hit them.”
Avi nodded and looked up at the screen behind him. “Can we see anything?”
William shook his head. “If they hit, we’ll get a thermal signature, too far yet for visual.”
“So we just wait?”
“We just wait.”
Avi sat back and grinned. “This is driving me crazy, how can you Naval types do it knowing that you can’t do anything for days or weeks! It’s crazy.” He quickly added, “No offense, sir.”
“You can’t argue with physics, Avi, so you just relax and save the adrenaline for later.”
The young Marine looked down to the floor. Behind him Leduc was poking at the display console. The screen flickered and showed movies that were popular twenty years before. Soldiers and Marines were scattered about the room ,eating or sleeping. Those awake seemed fidgety and tense. This was not the type of battle they were used to.
* * *
William sat in the cool air of the bridge and watched the visual display. The marauder was so far away that it was barely a wink of light, just another star. The marauder maintained the 4G acceleration. He went to rub his hands together and caught himself. The itching was coming back.
“Mr. Tero, how does it look?”
“Hmph. I can get a thermal off of it, but the resolution is pretty grainy.”
“Toss it up, better than staring at a number.”
The thermal image was overlaid onto the main display. A gray shape made out of choppy pixels hung in the center as if it wasn’t moving. A slight orange tint blurred the front edge.
“See the nose? The nanites are repairing it,” Tero said.
They were joined by Vito and then Crow. The room was silent except for the occasional click from the ventilation system.
“Can you mirror it in the galley?” William asked.
“Done,” Tero said with a tap of his fingers.
William’s eyes began to ache. He had to force himself to blink and watch. He wondered if they would see those little orbs of super-dense rhenium waiting for them. As far as the numbers showed, the marauder pointed straight on for the corvette. They might, just might, plow into one.
William leaned over the console and browsed through the weapons stockpiles. They had enough railgun projectiles and mass driver pellets to last them long after the hull was gone.
“Do they know it’s there?” Crow asked.
“Maybe. They might not care, or maybe they know the position and are going to steer clear of them. They might not have long range scanners.” William shrugged.
“This should be about it,” Tero said, looking up.
The marauder sat in the center of the display, a blotchy gray starship with an orange nose. Then something happened. A slice of white spread along the side of the marauder. The heat scale peaked.
Cheers went up through the room, followed a second later by cheers echoing from the galley. The white scar dimmed slowly into an angry red and finally a light yellow before winking away to nothing. The acceleration was constant.
William held his breath. His left hand tickled. He rubbed the stub gently on his leg and waited. He strained his senses and willed another sphere to strike. The seconds winked by and nothing happened.
Everyone shifted on the bridge as if stretching from a crouch. The immediate excitement gave way to a subtle tension. They’d get a fight, and soon.
“We have ten hours ‘til we can blink. They’ll reach us in nine.” William paused and thought. “Get everyone rested, hand out emergency suits and seal up any unused areas. I’m going to sleep.” He stood and walked slowly out of the room. He felt a dim sense of failure but he chastened himself for expecting a miracle.
* * *
Sebastien knocked on the thin alloy plate door. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d decided to bring up the past. He disliked remembering, but felt he owed William a piece of his past.
The door opened.
William stood with tired eyes in a tired pose and waved him in with a bandaged stub. “Sebastien. C’mon in.” William stumbled across the room and slid a bench out from the wall. “Sit, I’m sure there’s something to drink in here.” He looked around, poking into drawers and cabinets.
Sebastien sat. “Don’t worry about it, a stiff drink would knock me out.”
William nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked around him. “One hell of a ride.”
“It is, I don’t know my ships well, but Tero walks around like he’s in church.”
William smiled. “It’s old, or at least pieces of it are. Our ships aren’t ever this clean when the K build them. The Gracelle though, they make works of art. I’ve never seen one though, only pics.”
A silence grew between the pair. The sort of silence that could only exist when two people were comfortable enough to not need to breach it with idle talk. The ship hummed quietly around them.
“How old are you, William?”
“Twenty-four. Why?” William leaned forward and rested his elbows on his hips.
“Four years-old when you left Farshore, right?”
William nodded. “That’s right, twenty years ago. Why?”
Sebastien looked down to the floor before bringing his gaze back to William. “I was there.”
“It was a big deployment, I’ve met a few from the mission.”
“No, I mean I was there when it ended.”
William looked at Sebastien in silence. His eyes looked pained. “Go on.”
“Once they took out the Flagship, we sent an assault team down to destroy the launcher.” Sebastien looked down at his feet. “They couldn’t let it stand that a little colony whooped us. The plan was to destroy the launcher, blas
t the elevator, and dictate terms from orbit. It was a mistake trying to fight guerillas on the ground.”
“But they burned it from orbit…”
Sebastien shook his head. “The fleet blinked out and left us in low orbit. Farshore thought they won. We came into the mountains and stormed through. I believe your father was in command of the installation. They fought—oh, did they fight.”
The room was still. William locked his eyes on Sebastien.
“Your father asked us to take you out with us. We were going to blow the whole place. He was shot through, you were in the complex...”
William shifted his feet and looked down to the floor.
“After we set the charges, we left drones to keep anyone out. The launcher had a reactor tied into a magma pocket. We didn’t think it would erupt like it did.”
“The whole planet burned,” William whispered.
“We were up in orbit when we realized it. At first we thought it’d just be a normal eruption, but it kept getting larger. We couldn’t evacuate anyone, the fleet already blew up the elevator.”
Sebastien hated those days. He’d been a Private then, a member of a heavy weapons team. The charges that blew the reactor were charges he carried. The guilt always burned at him, but he always carried on. Nothing more that could be done. “They said it was a ship mounted weapon, make it seem like secret weapon. They got back and the outrage led to the UC. You know the rest.”
William looked up slowly. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You deserve to know. You’re a good Officer. For me it was another mission, one that went wrong. I’ve carried this with me a long time.”
William stared at the stump where his left hand was. “Will the pain ever go away?”
“No. It will always be there, that nagging feeling.” Sebastien stood and walked to the door.
“Thank you. I don’t remember much, but I’m glad you told me.”
Sebastien nodded and walked out into the white light.
* * *
William walked through the ship after pasting a fresh nanite patch onto his shoulder. The itching was so intense that it had awaken him. The nanite patches on the corvette didn’t last as long as the UC issue patches.
Trial by Ice (A Star Too Far Book 1) Page 23
