At least we wouldn’t be jumping out of the system anytime soon—combat mode protocols were specific to flat-space. So if I could get to a shuttle undetected, I might be able to escape and elude pursuit. Into the middle of a battle, what fun.
It didn’t occur to me to doubt the outcome of the combat. Nothing in the known galaxy could stand against Con-Fleet; another reason for Confederacy stability. Bendarl were called the “wolves of space” for good reason. I’d worry about the enemy once I found a pod.
Another jolt pushed me against the shaft wall. A sharp shock fell like a lash across my shoulders and the shock constricted the cry in my throat. My heart jumped against my ribs with a will of its own.
At the same time a hissing noise drowned out all other sounds and an acrid smell drifted up behind me. Coolant leak. Now I’d need detox treatment, on top of everything else.
Holding my breath, I scrambled away from the leak. Deck Twelve was fine, anywhere except this tunnel was fine. All I wanted was to get out of that shaft, put some clothes on, and find out what was happening.
The first two hatches stuck. Or they were locked. Or the alert plus coolant leak had activated an emergency override. By the time the third hatch cover glowed beside me, the shaft seemed to be getting darker and narrower. My hand on the hatch handle seemed to twist like when you try and move something in zero-g and find yourself moving instead... concentrate, turn the handle.
The hatch swung outward and I followed it in a heap on the deck, unable to control my muscles enough to brace them against the fall.
Too bright. I was in a narrow room, same gray walls and low ceilings as the rest of the ship. Handholds on floor and ceiling indicated this was not always gravitized. I pulled myself up and pushed the hatch shut with an immense effort. The long wall of the room was a curious honeycomb structure. I limped over to investigate and found they’d changed the locker design. Judging by the names and size, I’d found a locker room for humans. Either that, or the morgue.
The lockers were set to open only to the owner’s handprint. I leaned against them, too tired to curse, fingers too unsteady to consider trying to reset the locks. The alarm still sang, but it had settled to a slow and regular mid-tone blare. Alert and Action Stations. I had no idea how long I’d been in the shaft—it felt like hours.
An oval doorway stood around the corner from the lockers. I dabbed at its “open” pad and the door swished back. I jumped in fright, for the room beyond was filled with gaseous murk, then laughed at myself for being scared of a shower. Real water, to judge by the steam.
Nothing better. It would hurt like hell, but I’d get rid of most of the coolant traces on my skin. The internal damage would have to be dealt with later.
Four jets of warm, brackish water hit me from above, below, and two sides, a walk-through soaking. The warm, damp smell of floral scrub solution filled my nostrils. By the time I’d finished the ten paces to the end my head was spinning with pain.
“Wow, what happened to you?” A voice in my ear made me jump again.
A young human woman peered through the steam at me. Round eyes, broad nose from which rivulets dripped down to a generous mouth. A mouth pursed in an “ooh” of sympathy at the weals and burns all over me.
“I, um, got caught in a maintenance shaft.” My voice drifted and I tried harder. “When the alert sounded.”
My companion nodded understandingly. “I know what you mean. I got half a mission’s supply of Baven eggs on top of me when we rocked around.”
I shuddered at the memory of Baven eggs, a Bendarl delicacy. In their raw state they were quite caustic. The woman’s plump, firm figure did give off a distinct sulfur odor. She must be in one of the Service corps.
“I haven’t seen you around before.” She reached out to the controls and the water changed to blasts of warm air.
Either she missed the general announcement that a prisoner had escaped, or there hadn’t been one.
“I came from the station,” I yelled over the whoosh of the dryers, as loud as my raw throat would permit. “I’m...” The wind stopped and I dropped my voice to a more comfortable level. “I’m getting maintenance experience.”
She nodded again, a trusting and generous gesture.
“Trouble is,” I ventured, hoping she wouldn’t ask me why I’d been in the shaft, “I got lost and couldn’t find the shuttle docks. And my uniform was such a mess I had to chuck it. I am in such trouble.”
“I can lend you a uniform,” said the woman. “We’d better get back to our posts quick.” She opened the shower door. The AA alarm still pulsed from the corridor. Whatever was happening, I hoped it would continue long enough for me to get to an escape pod.
“My name’s Kiri, by the way. Kiri Cook. I’m a cook’s assistant, second class.” She offered her hand. “You’re not going to make a joke?”
“Huh?” I could easily have fainted with pain. Joke, no. I shook the hand. “Maria Valdon, Engineering tech.”
Her fingers bumped the tender spots left on my wrist by the Bendarl captain’s grip. I tried to ignore it but her expression clouded immediately.
“Before we find a uniform, you’d better put something on those burns.” “Kiri, I have to get to the docks. I don’t want to be caught off-post in an alarm.”
“Won’t be a tick.” Her voice rose muffled from a locker just above floor level. “Here you are, field medkit. Just what the doctor ordered.”
I decided less time would be wasted by submitting than by arguing. Besides, the pain was bad.
She slapped a handful of cold goo on my back and I nearly went through the wall.
“Sorry.” She peered around at my face. “Maybe you should go to sickbay.”
“No, it’s okay.” I held on to fistfuls of air while she smoothed it in. By the time she’d finished I could flex my shoulders with only minor tightness.
“Better?”
I smiled in thanks and rummaged through the kit for detox tablets while Kiri pulled on her uniform swiftly. She seemed to realize the time she’d taken to help me. “I have to get back, too. We’re under attack by someone. Or maybe that station is.”
“Someone’s attacking the station?” My hand shook sachets and containers onto the floor.
“Don’t worry. We can handle it.” She tossed me some folded clothes. “Here you are.”
I pulled overalls gingerly over my back.
Kiri activated the mirror with a cursory tap. “Think you’ll pass?”
The dark blue overalls would blend in anywhere on the ship, except perhaps the command deck. But my face above them, lopsided with swelling from the captain’s swipe, had the anemic, smudge-eyed look typical of coolant poisoning. I swallowed two detox tabs while Kiri was putting the medkit away, then slipped the remaining tabs in my pocket and hoped they’d be enough.
“Which way’s the small-craft dock? I’m supposed to report there.”
“The lift will take you up two decks.” She shifted from one foot to the other, impatient to be off. “Go straight along here, take a left, then a right. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.”
“Take care, then.”
We parted outside the locker room and she waved, cheerful to be moving, as she rounded the corner in the other direction.
A group of people were gathered around the lift doors when I reached them. Human, a couple of Achelians, one worried-looking Bendarl marine. The sight of the soldier jangled my nerves. I decided to go up the internal access shaft instead of waiting for the lift. Ten to one he’d been sent to check out an escaped prisoner.
None of them gave me more than a quick glance as I walked past. I heard a couple of snatches of conversation,
“... between the decks.”
“... have to climb up. The AA lockout is...”
A human on the edge of the group caught my eye and smiled. He wore overalls and was seated resignedly on a container marked FRAGILE, which he was evidently waiting to carry up in the lift. “Nuisa
nce, this.”
“Lift out?” I slowed my stride but didn’t stop. Be natural. Breathe.
“Yeah. They reckon someone’s stuck in there.”
I clicked my tongue in sympathy and kept going. Tough luck for the people in the lift, but anything that kept attention away from escaped prisoners was good news for me.
In the climb up to Deck Eleven I passed only one human going down and he didn’t even look at me. I stopped outside the shaft well to get my breath. The pain in my back was muffled, but I had to lean against the bulkhead and put my head down before looming black blotches went away. I might as well move forward on Eleven before climbing up to Ten. Take the opportunity to get my breath back.
Kiri had said the guest docks were forward on Deck Ten. I had the nagging feeling there was something I’d forgotten. A small emptiness.
I jogged as fast as I could to the bow end of Deck Eleven, which wasn’t very fast. My body was losing the fight against fatigue, coolant poisoning, and shock. The light parts of the corridor were too light and the shadows too dark, everything in between a blur. Water. I had to find a drink of water.
Haul self slowly up connecting shaft to Deck Ten. Didn’t meet anyone this time, good thing because hands kept cramping on rails and they would have noticed me hanging on and swearing.
Door, guard. He’s staring at me. I try and pull my shoulders back and walk straight. As I go past, the empty feeling disappears.
Farseer ’s in there. Not sure how I know, but it’s definitely there. An Barik or the captain must have brought it from Jocasta.
I hesitated. The throbbing in my head got in the way of thought. I might as well take Farseer to get away—better for me to be in a ship that can camouflage itself and maybe open the dock for me. Easier than stealing a shuttle in the middle of a battle. Especially in my present condition.
Keep walking. Don’t want main door to bay. Side door, maintenance access. Small room with suits in nets and cleaning bots bolted to walls. Fine, I can be a cleantech. Anything to get out of here.
My fingers fumbled the net release, a suit tumbled onto the floor, and I wasted precious minutes sorting it out. I was glad of the suit’s insulation for I was shivering. Either the ambient temperature had dropped, or mine had risen.
Water. Might stave off the fever for a bit longer. Another minute wasted before I found some in an amenities locker. I gulped down most of it with the last detox tabs from my pocket, and clipped the bottle onto the suit’s utility belt.
I settled the helmet casually over one shoulder as I’d seen cleantechs do, and after hurriedly checking the dock’s interior status—well done, Halley, don’t waltz into a vacuum without your helmet—entered the dock area.
It was a double bay, doors shut tight as combat protocol requires, red lights around the edges. Inside the bay, three pools of light covered the area next to the main door, diagonally opposite my entry, but otherwise it was dark. Both slots were full of Invidi ship, An Barik’s yacht and Farseer.
Farseer was closest to me. In case the guard was watching the visual pickup, I pretended to check each equipment alcove as I worked my way around the wall to Farseer. It loomed tall in the dark, swaying in time with the mass of conduits, magnetic lifters, and cables above. Or maybe it was me swaying. Concentrate.
I ran my hand along a ridge on the surface, shut my eyes, and visualized an entry hatch. Round, smooth-edged. Close to the deck so I could fall in.
Nothing happened.
Soft blackness threatened to overwhelm me and I leaned helplessly against the ship, cheek pressed against it, hands beside my face. Come on, baby. Open the door for me.
A section of the hull dissolved back into itself and the interior glowed welcome. I tumbled in and sat on the deck inside, rubbing my shoulder where the helmet had knocked.
It looked the same. Dim golden light, warm surface. The panel I’d worked on before was beside me this time and I dragged myself upright with a groan. Moved my hands over the surface, stroking the edges of triangles. Supported my weight on it and wished my head would stop pounding. Pinpricks of response needled my fingertips, then palms. The implant throbbed in time with my head, like a collar of fire. Blue lines crackled across the console in time with the collar.
Don’t faint, not yet. My thoughts moved with infuriating slowness. Open Vengeful ’s space doors without activating the alarm and without endangering containment... hell, I know how to do that, why can’t I remember now? Leave your hand on the sensor so the ship can pick up your thoughts.
The cabin shuddered slightly. I lost my balance and slid down the side of the console, but it was all right, we were out of the cruiser and not by crashing through the space doors. The viewscreen above the console had brightened into life and showed space and stars.
I pulled myself upright against the console and ran my hands more carefully over the surface, trying to remember navigational controls. Different-sized triangles, all with slightly different surfaces, some rough, some smooth, raised at different angles. Surely there weren’t this many last time I looked.
Hope it’s not reconfiguring itself, like Jocasta’s opsys. Making a maze to trap the unwary user.
Jocasta was centered on the viewscreen as if in a tactical holo, showing position and status. By changing the angle of the image on the viewscreen I could also see it as if through an ordinary port, a pale wheel against the dark.
There, I want to go there. Input what I think are the coordinates.
On the other side of Jocasta, near the jump point to Central, was a dot of light. I stared at it, wishing I could focus for more than a few seconds at a time, and the tactical part of the viewscreen enlarged it obligingly. A ship, looks like a modified freighter. Sensor details in unfamiliar script seemed to send their message directly to my brain—indeed a freighter, modified with weapons and jump drive-compliant. The smaller ships leaving it were fighters. I leaned farther to the left and was rewarded by a view of Vengeful , with more fighters dipping around it.
Farseer was still close enough to Vengeful for warnings to blip at me from the console. Radiation warnings from the bursts of weapons fire. Proximity warning, a small craft too close, skimming us—need to get away.
As I stroked my fingertips up the side of the triangle prickles of discomfort ran up the inside of my arms, twitching muscles and echoing off the pain from the implant, which was getting worse. It wasn’t this bad before. Must be why it’s so cold. Can’t stop shivering. Could be the Tor elements... the Tor elements doing something. I lost the thought.
My fingers slipped off the triangle and I wasted time trying to get the viewscreen to show Vengeful again. Taking a while to come into focus; not sure if that’s my fault or Farseer ’s. We’re farther away from Vengeful now. Fighters zip around it. Some of them ConFleet. Protecting the cruiser, which wouldn’t be able to bring its larger weapons to bear properly on the attackers.
There was a lot of other information about automated seeker weapons and warhead content but my head hurt too much to process it. Something else I need to look at... Biosignals, that was it. Who was in the attacking fighters and the freighter they’d come from?
Oh, shit, it’s Q’Chn. Too many Q’Chn. In the fighters. One of them stuck on to Vengeful ’s hull and I groaned helplessly. Much as I disliked the Bendarl, they didn’t deserve being massacred by the Q’Chn. And the station is vulnerable—when they finish with ConFleet they’ll come after us.
Think, think, Farseer is a jump-capable ship. Can I get it through the jump point to Central and warn ConFleet?
I’d slid down the side of the console again, my legs as rubbery as Farseer ’s inner surfaces. It took a precious minute or two to drag myself upright against the console that tilted and rocked, the triangles a blurred mess. Shit, I feel sick.
... jump point. ConFleet. Can’t do it. The freighter’s in the way. And three... no, four fighters clustered around the point, engaging what looked like escape pods and shuttles from Vengeful . Did Barik get a
way? For a second, I thought I could see the rounded shape of an Invidi ship in the scrum, but then my vision blurred.
Farseer should be heading toward Jocasta. There, on the viewscreen. Getting larger. The station, Vengeful , the planet and small ship-shapes overlapped, swam in and out of focus. Murdoch’s words, his deep, flat voice. What are you going to do with it, then ? The warmth of his hand dissolves into the rhythm of Henoit’s lovemaking, bears me along in a river, drowning.
Can’t breathe properly. Cool, rubbery surface under my cheek. Stink of sweat, sour remnant of vomit. Am I back in the out-town?
Snap out of it. Think. You thought Farseer might be able to open new jump points. Could I go and warn Con-Fleet that way?
I didn’t think I could find the same control sequence I’d used to jump from 2023. Not with the overwhelming ache in my head and the way the console had changed. And what had An Barik said? Farseer wasn’t stable.
Somebody else talking. In the cabin? No, from the screen.
... Invidi yacht, please respond. This is the New Council of Allied Worlds ship Freedom . A female voice. Not human.
I fumbled upward over the console and managed to pat what I thought was the visual interface control until the outside view was replaced by a narrow figure against a fuzzy background. Humanoid. Muscled arms and torso, long plaits of hair, vertical-irised eyes staring through me. H’digh.
Henoit’s voice seemed to tickle my ear. Listen.
Invidi yacht. Respond. H’digh are supposed to be patient hunters, but the female’s voice rose in annoyance.
“I can hear you,” I mumbled, and hoped the pickups caught my response.
You will dock that ship at the space station.
I was so slow-witted, it took me a moment to work out she meant Jocasta.
I know you’re thinking: if I can stall them long enough, ConFleet will send reinforcements. But there is only one jump point in this system. Three of our small ships are waiting next to it. If ConFleet sends a ship through, the Q’Chn will be inside before they know what hit them. And soon we’ll have Vengeful to use as our own.
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