by Britt Ringel
Lombardi considered the information and looked to Heskan’s image. “Then it does indeed seem to confirm your theory that the cutters are operated by a lower level of intelligence than whatever is in charge of the super-carrier.”
Heskan sighed. “I think so. To continue sending the cutters at us wouldn’t have accomplished anything. They were too spread out, and not enough of them considering their tactics. I suspect they’ll resume their pursuit once they think they have massed enough to make a successful attack.”
Lombardi sat back and weighed the assessment. From her right, Lieutenant Vernay said, “It might also mean another thing, Captain.” All eyes turned toward the diminutive lieutenant. “Maybe they don’t need to chase us. Maybe they just need to keep us from escaping.”
Chills ran down Lombardi’s spine. Mio Dio! What if she is right? How did we not think of this sooner? “That is… less than comforting, Lieutenant.” She looked at her own first officer and could tell by his expression that he thought the Brevic officer’s point had merit. “We are also watching the Iocaste tunnel point, yes? Tolya?”
He grimaced and then opened a communications channel to Phoenix’s bridge. Several commands later, he answered, “We are now, Komandor. No contacts yet.”
“So what do we do?” she asked to no particular person in the meeting.
The question hung in the air until the Brevic commander answered. “Not much we can do but continue running and see what’s in Iocaste.”
“Farther into the unknown…” Lombardi said and trailed off. “What about turning to attack while they are still weak?”
Valokov shook his head. “The aliens are already too numerous at the Kale tunnel point to fight. The closure rates of their cutters would be too fast for us to defend ourselves. We’d also be leading the aliens back into Hollaran territory.”
“Kale is not Hollaran territory, Kapitan,” Vernay growled.
“Enough, you two,” Lombardi admonished. “If I want obnoxious, unhelpful behavior, I will comm request Christova.” Lombardi looked at Valokov. “We must work together until we have escaped the alien threat.” Oh my, what have I just promised? She looked at Heskan. The dark circles under his eyes and bruises from the recent assault hid his normally handsome, if rugged, appearance. His eyes conveyed a measure of confidence but also a gentleness that Lombardi knew belied a ruthless nature. Do not be fooled, Isabella. This man will stop at nothing to protect his “Republic.” Never forget what he did to his own people.
As the niece of an intelligence wiceadmiral, Lombardi had been privy to information normally unavailable to officers of her rank. The late Wiceadmiral Teodore De Luca had not only doted on his only niece but also carefully guided her career. Knowing who Lieutenant Commander Heskan was, and more specifically what he had done earlier in his career, was priceless information. She only wished she knew why Heskan had done what he had in the Praxidike system. He could be so easy to trust but never forget that he views this as an alliance of convenience, she told herself. Garrett Heskan will turn his back on you the moment it is no longer in his best interest to cooperate.
She looked at her counterpart and spoke. “Our mutual alliance protects us both. Surely even y—” she stuttered at her slip, stopping herself. “Surely all of us can see the benefit of working together.”
“Absolutely, Komandor,” Heskan soothed. The earnest delivery of his words seemed to promise truth without deception. “We’re stronger together than apart. We have an old saying meant to convey unwavering unity in our republic: We’ll Stand Together.”
Lombardi smirked at the statement. Indeed, that saying existed in the Brevic Republic. It was used brazenly as the rallying cry when the Brevic government prevented several of its border systems near the Solarian Federation from leaving the Republic to reintegrate with the older Federation a generation after the Secession Wars. Although no shots had been fired, the immense military presence the Brevics maintained in those systems during that historical period combined with the “We’ll Stand Together” propaganda had prevented their secession. Even now, Lombardi knew the so-called Brevic “Home Fleet” held its strategic position more to maintain domestic stability than to counter any Federation threat.
Lombardi’s shoulders slumped with a fatal acceptance. “We have very little choice in the matter. Both of our squadrons will be destroyed if we encounter another alien fleet separately. You need my heavy ships and I need your escorts. Perhaps this fact can give our alliance the foundation it requires to function.”
“With that in mind, Komandor,” Heskan said, “I’d like to discuss the possibility of combining our ships into a single formation. We’ll have a better chance of protecting ourselves as a group than as two, loosely compiled squadrons.”
Lombardi felt her stomach knot. She knew this had been coming and even though he was right, the thought of willingly placing the ships and lives she had sworn to protect into a position where the least stable ship captain could destroy them all was alarming. Worse still, she was worried that her own vice commander might be the captain to open fire. The notion of giving her solemn word to cooperate but having it broken by her own comrade-in-arms tormented her. She looked away furtively and thought to herself, If we must combine forces, I will do so in a way that protects both my ships and my integrity. Glancing back to Heskan, she reluctantly said, “Vaettir must be positioned on the perimeter. Then perhaps we place Phoenix, Kite, and Nuno to form the center and your other destroyer on the opposite perimeter.”
She watched the Brevic commander consider her offer while trying hard to keep her hands from churning under the conference table. After several moments, he agreed in what she was beginning to believe was a nearly perpetually friendly voice. “I think we can work out something like that, Komandor.” He looked at Vernay and quickly ordered, “Stacy, can you coordinate with Komandor Lombardi’s first… Kapitan Valokov, right?” He paused as Valokov affirmed and then continued, “Once you two come up with a preliminary formation, hand it to us—,” he gestured between himself and Lombardi, “—and we can go from there. Is that acceptable, Komandor?”
It felt like a trap but Lombardi tried to dismiss the warning. Come on now, Isabella, this would be a needlessly elaborate trick. Why not just open fire while we are in conference? It would be much simpler and nearly as effective. Not everything the ‘Vics do has its foundation in treachery, she reminded herself. “Yes, Commander, that will work. I will have your lieutenant hail you when the task is completed.”
Heskan smiled briefly and then closed the channel. Lombardi rose from her chair and stated, “I am going to Medical. Tolya, you are aware of my concerns about Vaettir.” She leaned close to Valokov and whispered, “Ensure Komandor Christova does not mistakenly see opportunity where none exists.”
Without a further word, she departed, leaving the two first officers alone at the table.
* * *
The shuttle doors opened and Lieutenant Vernay breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped down onto Kite’s familiar deck. Heskan greeted her with a wide smile. “Welcome back.”
Vernay returned his smile and admitted, “It’s nice to be back, sir. That was a very strange experience.”
“Did you leave Diane there?” Heskan asked.
Vernay nodded and replied, “Yes. They’ll take better care of her than we could. I talked with Doctor Carter in private and he couldn’t quite believe how impressive their medical facilities are. In fact, he called them ‘state of the art.’”
Heskan cocked his head. “I thought the Abath heavy cruisers were decades old.”
“They are,” Vernay confirmed. “Phoenix must have been refitted though because Doctor Carter said its capabilities match or are better than what we have on our newest orbitals.” She shrugged. “I don’t understand it myself but, in this case, I’m glad we were wrong because it means Diane has a better chance to survive.”
Heskan brought a hand up to his chin and scratched. Finally he asked, “What are her chanc
es?”
Vernay smiled when she noticed Heskan’s fingers were slightly crossed. “‘Fair to good’ is what Carter said. Lombardi’s chief doctor, Timoleon, insisted they were higher now that she had access to ‘real care,’” she added, making air quotes and rolling her eyes at Timoleon’s statement.
“So what was your impression of Lombardi?” Heskan followed with the penultimate question. “Can we trust her?”
Vernay inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’ve been asking myself that the whole ride home. On one side, she hates our guts. I mean hates. You’d have thought I’d slapped her when I offered to shake her hand.” She quickly gestured toward Heskan. “That was good advice, sir. She wasn’t expecting it and it was the first, unfiltered emotion she gave me.”
Vernay exhaled and continued. “There was the obvious propaganda; we don’t use fusion missiles, we’re the good guys and so on.” Vernay grimaced and apologetically said, “I think she, uh, brought up Derringer, sir. Lied about it of course. I suppose to see if she could sow some dissention in me.” Vernay looked Heskan deep in the eyes and gave him an expression that spoke volumes about any success the attempt may have had. Finally, she continued, “We were expecting all that kind of stuff anyway. At the meeting, however, it was obvious she didn’t want to combine our fleets. She tried to mask the concern but sitting there, watching her… it was plain she was uncomfortable with the suggestion.” Her eyebrows popped up quickly as she added, “Oh, she also told a strange lie to me. She said she was taking me to the ‘main briefing room’ but if that was the main briefing room, she must never have conferences bigger than six people.”
Heskan rubbed his chin once more as he sifted through Vernay’s observations. “Okay. Any positives?”
Vernay nodded thoughtfully. “Although their doctor is a bit of an ass, I do think he was honestly concerned for Diane. As far as trusting Lombardi goes, I just don’t know… maybe, for now. As long as our interests align, I don’t think she will betray us. But, Captain, the same doesn’t hold true for her vice. I know that isn’t exactly shocking news. However, if Lombardi loses command, for whatever reason, I’d expect an attack from that Christova. We might want to even attack preemptively if Lombardi is killed.”
“Did you meet Komandor Christova, Stacy?”
She shook her head. “No, but Kapitan Valokov basically confirmed he’s a wildcard. That’s why Lombardi wants him on the perimeter, to keep his GPs away from us.”
“His heavy lasers will still be in range with the formation you two came up with,” Heskan cautioned.
“Yeah, I know, but at least the other half of his armament won’t be. You know, we have the same concerns with Curator but at least Arnold doesn’t have heavy weapons to threaten the Hollies with.”
“Your impression of Valokov?”
Vernay was grim. “He’s smart and experienced. I see now why Lombardi listens to him.” She actually enjoyed her time working with Valokov. He had very little, or at least well-concealed, animosity in him and his insight into creating an effective defensive formation taught Vernay a trick about overlapping GP lasers for enhanced coverage. “Those two make a good team, Captain,” she stated. “If we can trust them, if they learn to trust us; this collective fleet might just be unstoppable.”
“I hope so,” Heskan said, “because that super-carrier is heading our way.”
* * *
Thirty minutes after Kite recovered Vernay’s shuttle, the two squadrons combined in anticipation of their dive into the Iocaste tunnel, still forty minutes away. The alien super-carrier, swarming with nearly a thousand cutters, was pacing the Terran fleet at .2c. Even if the cutters raced ahead of their mother ship, the 45lm distance between the competing fleets guaranteed they would fall well short before the Terrans escaped into the next system.
Kite’s bridge doors swept open and Heskan walked in. Vernay hopped up and said, “Captain on the bridge,” as she moved to her first officer’s station.
When Heskan sat, he looked at Vernay and said, “The meeting is over. Lombardi agreed that our first action in Iocaste will be to sail directly for the nearest tunnel point, wherever that may be.” Iocaste was completely unexplored and with neither government knowing its composition, no specific decisions could be made until they learned what lay inside the star system. Heskan dreaded that moment. What if the only tunnel available sends us toward Hollaran space? The nightmare scenario quickly played out in his head, his CortRon diving deeper and deeper toward Hollaran space, eventually entering it well behind enemy lines. After all we’ve been through, what if I lead my crew right to the doorstep of Hollara? The grisly rumors of Hollaran prisoner-of-war camps flickered through his mind. Maybe it would be best just to make a last stand if that happened.
“Captain? You okay?” Vernay’s concerned voice rocked Heskan from his speculation.
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“I’m not sure I want to know what about given the look you had on your face,” Vernay said.
“I think I left my coffeemaker on back at Anthe,” he retorted before speaking louder. “Jessie, how does the formation look for our dive?”
“We’re okay, sir. It’s just… creepy, being in formation with Hollies. But our ships are mostly at their assigned stations.”
“Mostly, Ensign?” Vernay questioned.
Meyer blushed. “Okay, it’s us. Kite is a little out of place but I swear that Hollie light cruiser is messing with me. Every time I get us situated, it fires its maneuvering thrusters slightly and I have to adjust, which forces Curator to have to move.” Meyer rapidly stroked the controls on her console and snarled, “It’s highly annoying.”
Heskan watched the ensign fight with Kite to maintain her station. Kite’s position was slightly off but the corrections Meyer made were minor ones. “Stick with it, Jessie,” he encouraged.
Meyer nodded and said, “I’ll be glad when we dive and Kite is alone in tunnel space.”
The navigator’s statement brought more concerns to Heskan’s mind. We don’t even know how long the dive will take. We won’t know until we’re in t-space and our sensors pick up the other exit.
Chapter 8
“Be seated,” Heskan said irritably as he entered the briefing room and lumbered toward his seat at the head of the conference table. Kite had been traveling in t-space for six days, and as with every recent dive, Heskan’s dreams of either the past or future haunted him each night. The captain had taken his trepidation out on his crew and worked them hard, repairing damage, training Operations personnel to be marines, and examining the parasites recovered from the latest attack. Seated around Heskan were the leaders of these efforts: Lieutenant Vernay, Doctor Thomas, Lieutenant Brandon Jackamore, Ensign Gables and Chief Brown. Once Heskan situated himself, he looked at Vernay and curtly asked, “What do you have for me?”
Vernay glanced at the others seated around her and said, “It might be easiest to start at the beginning. Ensign?”
Gables entered commands on her datapad and the view screen inlaid into the middle of the table came to life. It played a recording taken from the helmet-cam of a Kite marine. The marine appeared to be kneeling, looking ahead to a three-man team using a portable flamethrower. The jet of flame died and Gunnery Sergeant Holloway’s voice ordered the fire team to move up. As the marine raced past the flame unit, the damage to Kite’s interior hull entered into view. A large breach in the bulkhead had been torn open.
The marine approached the gash as the barrel of his multi-rifle appeared near the bottom of the camera view. Without turning the corner, the marine pointed his weapon into the rupture and fired bursts from the underslung shotgun. Holloway’s loud voice advised, “Ensign, I recommend you move your team up.”
After several moments, Ensign Gables was heard shouting a warning to get clear and the marine backed away from the corner, bringing the three-man flame team back into view. Ensign Gables activated the flamethrower and another spray of fire washed into the breach. As soon as th
e gout of flame died, Holloway ordered, “Go, go, go!” The marine with the helmet-cam rushed forward, around the corner and into the breach.
He entered a long, narrow compartment. The dim lighting from the floor and the small fires from the flame assault illuminated a room with no discernible purpose. No wall screens, no workstations or furniture of any kind were inside the area. The only remarkable features were twin vats of gel that ran the length of each side of the room. The marine yelled, “Clear!” and turned back to the opening. Several marines hurriedly entered carrying demolition charges. Behind them, Ensign Gables and Gunnery Sergeant Holloway entered the alien cutter.
Gables was seen walking to a vat and waving the camera over. “Nasty.”
The marine approached Ensign Gables and looked into the vat, panning the camera with him. The vat appeared to be a meter deep. Inside it, dark, thick goo obscured the bottom but hundreds of the alien parasites floated on its surface. They twitched slightly but otherwise did not react to the human intruders.
“This is the last cutter, Sergeant,” the video of Gables said. “We’ve got to collect some of this gunk for Doctor Thomas.”
“With what, ma’am?” Holloway asked from out of view.
Gables turned to face the marine’s helmet-cam. “Pena, get a sample and then fall back. The charges are almost set.”
The helmet-cam dipped in what may have been a shrug. “Ma’am, I don’t have a container.”
Gables turned away and asked, “Seriously? Nobody has a damned cup or something?”
After a brief silence, Gables growled, “Oh for God’s sake.” Sticking her cupped hands into the vat, the gel pooled around them. After raising her hands, she turned and moved out of camera view but her next words were clear enough. “Move it, Campbell, unless you want the worst facial ever.” The view focused on a marine setting a demolition charge near the breach and then froze. The briefing room participants looked toward the present Ensign Gables. Chief Brown was smiling broadly.
