by Britt Ringel
“It will be in her record,” Arnold vowed but in a much calmer voice. “However, now that our golden opportunity has passed, we have to decide what our next actions will be.”
Ensign Jessica Meyer, sitting at the navigation console, stated, “Kite is free of the cutters, Captain. Propulsion is fully restored.”
“Very well,” Heskan acknowledged. “Bring us back to point-two-C and keep us pointed at the Iocaste tunnel point.”
“Jack,” Vernay added, “notify Phoenix we’re resuming battle speed.” She glanced at Heskan and explained, “Lombardi requested to be informed.”
Heskan looked at Arnold. “Okay, Alan. For now, we run like the wind. Expect a meeting to discuss a course of action but I need time to get a hold of Kite’s situation and think about our options. That’s all, Captain.”
Arnold disconnected, leaving an exhausted but relieved Heskan alone in the channel.
Chapter 5
Heskan’s respite lasted seven hours. In that time, the Brevic-Hollaran fleet transited most of the distance between Perdita’s two tunnel points. Along the way, Kite’s perilous condition became better known. The multiple strikes by the alien cutters caused little actual damage to the destroyer; however, the damage from the parasites aboard Kite had been nearly fatal. Of Kite’s two hundred fourteen crewmembers that entered combat in the Perdita star system, only one hundred thirty-three remained. The eighty-one casualties were destined to include Diane Selvaggio, whose heart had stopped beating during a particularly violent convulsion. Doctor Thomas’ best revival efforts had restarted it but the parasitic neurotoxin was causing too much damage to her nervous system for it to operate independently. The toxin coursing through her body was slowly dissolving her neuro-pathways and Thomas painfully confessed there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The news of Selvaggio’s condition cast a dark cloud over the bridge. Truesworth tried to brush casually at his tears but the need to wipe his eyes so frequently made his despair impossible to conceal. Vernay sat sullenly in her first officer’s chair. In the center of the room, Heskan could not help but feel the deep regret of the imminent loss of yet another promising young officer. Diane was a sweetheart and the consummate officer. She was a loyal and very capable navigator and just beginning to come out of her shell, he reminisced. She had limitless potential. Such a wonderful life lost in a worthless star system—for what? We’re still running for our lives. He chastised himself when he realized it was not just a single life expended in the system but hundreds of lives when all of Kite’s losses and those of Bolt were considered. Wallowing in sorrow under the shroud of death, Heskan’s mind reflected upon the ghosts of the past: Joanne Colt, Marc West, Mike Riedel, Kelly Gary, Eliza Grey, and countless others. So many have died… so many.
He forced his thoughts to return to the present and found himself staring, sightless, at Ensign Meyer, who watched over Kite’s navigation station. Jessica Meyer was NAV’s last functioning officer. The section started short-handed on Kite’s maiden voyage, when the inbound navigation section commander, Lieutenant Joseph Scott, perished in a Brevic-Hollaran skirmish and never reached Kite. Diane Selvaggio was leading the division’s Helm subsection at the time while Meyer led Astrogation. With the loss of Scott, Selvaggio kept command of the Helm subsection while also elevated to command the entirety of Navigation. Now, Jessie Meyer, with only a year as an ensign behind her, sat atop the entire NAV section. She was but one example of just how precarious Kite’s personnel situation had become. This isn’t Anelace, Heskan reminded himself. We can’t run this ship with just a handful of people.
Truesworth’s SGT or “Sight” subsection was equally decimated and he was forced to divide his remaining two subsections to help man Kite’s sensors. Lieutenant Spencer had also been forced to compromise and could only crew sixty percent of the destroyer’s AMS lasers on each of her sides due to the loss of gunners during the most recent attack. Lastly, Ensign Gables combined her surviving marines into just two squads. There simply were not enough replacements in Operations to fill out a third. Perdita has been hard on us, Heskan thought distastefully.
“How soon until we can dive out of this place, Jessie?” Heskan tried to leave the sourness out of his voice but failed.
“Uh…” Meyer looked down at her station. “Crap. One second, sir.” She punched commands into her console furiously while apologizing. “Sorry, Captain.” A moment later, she exhaled slowly to collect herself and said, “We can dive in one hour and forty-four minutes, sir.”
“Jack, are the aliens still holding at the Kale tunnel point?”
“Still there, Captain. I’m having trouble keeping track of the cutters at this distance though. The super-carrier is easy to see. She’s visible and I’m getting regular tunnel disturbances suggesting more ships are entering the system.” Truesworth turned to face Heskan. “No pursuit though.”
Why would they give up the chase? What’s changed? Heskan wondered. Hmmm, they didn’t actually stop chasing us until that carrier arrived. Until it showed up, the cutters just kept coming at us single-mindedly. Then, the carrier dives in and recalls the cutters. Heskan thought he might be on the verge of some great epiphany but the final revelation eluded him. I need a second opinion, he decided. “Keep an eye on that carrier, Jack.”
“Hard to miss it,” he quipped feebly.
“Tony,” Heskan announced, “you have the bridge. Lieutenant Vernay and I will be in the bridge conference room. Contact us immediately if the situation changes.” He looked at Vernay and then jerked his head toward the bridge door.
“Aye, sir,” Spencer responded as he rose from his seat.
The walk to the briefing room was a short one by design. The two officers entered the large room and took positions opposite each other. Vernay’s diminutive form sat slumped in her chair; her downcast eyes belied the mindset of someone focused squarely on their present situation. Sympathizing wholeheartedly, Heskan sighed. We can’t stay wrapped up in the past. We have to put the last battle behind us. Heskan subconsciously raised his hands to his face but stopped himself. His cheeks were beginning to itch fiercely.
“I’m sorry about Diane, Stacy,” Heskan opened.
“I did a horrible thing,” she confessed. “In the ship’s mess, while you were both unconscious, I made a snotty remark to her.”
Heskan arched a questioning eyebrow at her.
She sighed. “It’s silly, and stupid. I just said ‘lieutenant’ real sarcastically to her. Like when we were arguing in Helike over fusion bombing planets.” The line of her mouth twisted regretfully. “I guess it’s the last thing I’ll ever say to her.”
“You did your best to save her. That’s what you need to remember.”
Vernay shook her head weakly. “Maybe there was something more I could’ve done.”
“Maybe,” Heskan conceded, “but if there was I don’t know what. The doctors are doing their best and now we’ve got to start focusing on saving the rest of us.”
Vernay looked at her captain earnestly. “I know you’re right but how do you do it? How do you stay so unfazed when your friends die around you?”
Although Heskan knew it was unintentional, the question struck him as an indictment. How do you stay so detached when all those people, people who you’re responsible for, die around you? Because, you know, it happens all the time with you and you just continue on your merry way. Unfazed. Untouched. Clean. “I remember my duty,” Heskan answered, “and what’s at stake if I fail. I think of the people still around me and they give me the strength to keep going.”
Vernay nodded in acceptance. “A lot of people are still counting on us on Kite. What do we do?”
Heskan’s tone took on a hard edge. “We get our heads on straight and come up with a plan that gets us away from these aliens and back to Brevic space.”
* * *
The briefing room’s wall screen flashed once and the faces of Isabella Lombardi and her first officer appeared. With mild irritat
ion, Lombardi looked into her screen and said, “Okay, Commander Heskan, I now have the privacy you requested. Only Kapitan Valokov sits next to me.” She gestured to her right in reference to him. “We should not take too long, Commander, or I will, once again, be accused of conspiring with the enemy by my vice commander.”
“Thank you, Komandor, and I know what you mean. My vice is equally unhappy with the company I keep,” Heskan replied. “I’ve asked for this meeting because I want to get your opinion of the aliens’ unusual behavior.”
Heskan pressed the transmit button on the console in front of him and an alternate wall screen lit up, displaying the recorded tactical plots of the last nine hours. Kite and her squadron dove into the star system with the Hollaran forces already several light-seconds ahead. Time compressed and the ships fled the Kale tunnel point before hundreds of alien cutters appeared and immediately pursued the Terran ships. The battle played out. It was instantly apparent poor Bolt truly never had a chance once rammed early in the fight. She quickly lagged behind the formation and became the obvious target. Heskan winced slightly as he watched the frigate absorb impact after impact. Kite suffered as well. However, as the situation deteriorated for Heskan’s ship, Curator, Phoenix and Nuno altered course and speed to cover Kite and save her from annihilation.
The remaining cutters should have been sufficient to guarantee additional strikes on Kite as she faltered. However, instead of taking the minutes necessary to coordinate an overwhelming attack, the cutters flowed toward Kite with utter indifference to tactics. Even after the Hollarans had destroyed the majority of them, handfuls of the alien cutters continued zealously onward to make their suicide runs as singles and pairs despite the futility of their actions. Time compressed on the holo-log once again and the alien ships were cut down like ducklings waddling along the same path. Then, forty-two minutes into the battle, the alien super-carrier dove into the system. Eight minutes after the enormous ship’s appearance, the cutters broke off their fruitless attacks and made way back to their consort.
As the holo-log finished, Lombardi bobbed her head up and down and spoke with thick sarcasm. “Yes, yes, Commander. Their carrier ordered them to abandon their attack. The alien leader is on the carrier. Destroy it and the alien hierarchy collapses. Nobody else in the fleet could have, um… figured this out. What a classic display of Brevic genius.” She rolled her eyes.
Heskan, already having been put thoroughly through the emotional wringer, had little ire left and could only smile. “Granted, Komandor, the obviousness of that conclusion is a little less than stunning. However, have you really thought through what this means?”
Lombardi snorted. “With insight like this, you ‘Vics have only months until the Commonwealth wins this war?”
“Izzy,” Valokov grumbled.
The one-word appeal gave Lombardi pause. Her shoulders slumped and she sat in quiet contemplation while Heskan noticed how much older Kapitan Valokov was than the fiery komandor despite his junior rank. The Hollaran first officer had well-worn lines etched around his eyes and his hair was streaked thoroughly with grey.
“Okay, Tolya, what does it mean?” Lombardi finally asked him.
“Well,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose as he responded, “they follow orders without regard to personal costs. They are obviously well-disciplined.”
“We believe it’s more than that, Kapitan,” Vernay said. “Besides the malevolence they exude, there’s just this sense of pure instinct from them.”
“Mal-al-volence?—” Lombardi struggled over the word, “—Instinct? Um…” Lombardi paused to lean toward her wall screen as if inspecting Vernay before resuming. “Um, Lieutenant, how could you possibly know this? I hope you are not suggesting that these space-bugs are no smarter than your average jitter-wasp when it is obvious they have created starships with propulsion technology that outpaces our own.”
“Have you been chased by these things, Komandor?” Vernay shot back. “Have you actually had to physically run for your life from them?”
Lombardi considered her question and shook her head.
Vernay pointed at the Hollaran komandor. “If you ever have to run from them, you’ll feel plenty of malevolence, ma’am. Plus, I just don’t think the aliens, as individuals, possess a great intelligence.” She looked at Heskan. “Sir, when Gables hit them with the flamethrower, there were enough parasites on her side of the fire to stop her. Instead, they just flew away from the heat as fast as possible.”
“But your own reports say they are opening doors that have been locked,” Valokov countered. “How are these ‘dumb’ things doing that?”
“Wait, Tolya,” Lombardi interrupted. “Lieutenant, your reports say it is the crewmembers that have been, overcomed… overcame… attacked by these insects, yes?”
“Yes,” Vernay answered affirmatively but rolled her eyes at Lombardi’s difficulties. “And that fact begs to ask even larger questions.”
“Yes, indeed,” Lombardi responded. “It suggests that once enough aliens have attached themselves to their host, they get… smarter.”
Vernay nodded. “Right. The captain and I believe there is a certain point, a ‘critical mass’ so to speak, that once reached, coalesces this instinctual intellect into a group consciousness that not only possesses greater intelligence but can access the memories of the infected host.”
“That would explain a great many things,” Lombardi agreed and looked gravely at Heskan. “Perhaps even their amazing propulsion knowledge. They took it, not created it.”
“Yes,” both Heskan and Vernay answered together.
Vernay grimaced and meekly gestured toward Heskan while addressing Lombardi. “Oh. That was to my captain, wasn’t it?” She shrunk a little in her chair while saying with a coy smile, “Perhaps you’d like to participate in the conversation now, Captain. Sorry.”
Lombardi tried to conceal her amusement. “What you say makes sense, Lieutenant. I do not think your captain minds when you speak in his stead. A smart Hollaran officer understands the value of letting her clever subordinates voice their opinions.”
“Oh,” Heskan agreed, “Stacy Vernay has no trouble speaking her mind.”
Vernay’s face flushed a deep red as Lombardi looked at the two Brevic officers. “Are not you both the colorful pair? Your faces both look like grapes.”
Heskan huffed. “You wouldn’t believe how bad the stings itch, Komandor. I’d give anything to have my face go back to being numb.”
“The feeling coming back is a good thing though, yes?” Valokov asked.
Heskan nodded. “The doctor believes I am out of danger now. Unfortunately, many of my people haven’t fared so well. My chief navigator was attacked with me and is dying.”
“Your doctors cannot save him?” Valokov questioned.
“Her. And no, the venom released by the aliens is destroying her nervous system.” Heskan saw the Hollarans exchange glances.
“Captain,” Lombardi started slowly, “I understand you have no reason to agree to this but I think our doctors might be able to help. Phoenix is well-equipped and our chief medical officer is quite talented.”
Heskan felt his spirits surge with the news but tempered his optimism. Lombardi’s words ran contrary to what he knew. Brevic spies had long since determined that medical capabilities aboard Hollaran ships were little more than afterthoughts, crammed into the smallest places so as not to take up too much valuable space on their ships. The prevailing theory was that the Hollarans were three to five years behind Bree in medical research. “Do you really believe he could help, Komandor?” Heskan asked dubiously.
Lombardi shrugged. “Possibly. Phoenix has an impressive array of medical facilities.”
Heskan looked at Vernay. The hope in her voice matched the intensity of her words. “Captain, maybe this is that ‘something more’ that I could have done. We have to try.”
Heskan feared what his answer would be and lightly pressed fingers to his aching head. Arnold w
ill have a field day with this. Willingly handing my wounded to the Hollarans. What will Headquarters think? His mind thought back to Selvaggio playfully teasing him about possibly sitting next to Shane Durmont in an upcoming meeting and he suddenly decided he did not care what leadership might think. “Prepare to receive a shuttle, Komandor.”
Lombardi’s eyebrows arched gracefully in genuine surprise. Heskan smirked lightly at the reaction as he added, “And, Isabella… Thank you.”
* * *
The meeting with the Brevics had ended only moments ago. Kapitan Valokov asked in a dour tone, “Izzy, what happens if Dr. Timoleon cannot save the ‘Vic?”
“Komandor Timoleon is a brilliant physician, Tolya. I know this because he tells me every chance he gets. With the information Kapitan Dogaru sent us before his ship’s destruction in Kale combined with Doctor Timoleon’s skill, surely we will be able to do more than stand vigil over a death watch.”
Valokov’s voice turned even darker. “What happens if he actually saves her?”
Lombardi ignored his meaning. “Then we have saved a life and extended an olive branch to a valuable and essential ally.”
“Isabella,” Valokov warned, “you know what I mean. What happens to you? Word of giving aid and comfort to the enemy will reach Christova. He has strong political connections and you know he will use them when we reach home. You know what that could mean.”
Lombardi rose from her seat and began to walk toward the exit. She hated what the briefing room had come to symbolize. She could only think of the constant verbal thrusts and parries with her vice commander during the pursuit of the Brevics from the Helike star system and the report of the loss of Wiceadmiral De Luca transmitted from this room after the disastrous attack on Sponde. For Lombardi, time spent in the chamber beyond that which was absolutely necessary was to be avoided at all costs. When she reached the threshold, she turned to her first officer. “Stephan Christova is going to use his political capital anyway, Tolya. And they can court martial me only once.”
