by B. V. Larson
“God, I need some sleep,” I said, rubbing my face. I caught Galen and Cybele staring at me. “Okay, I could have handled that better. But it’s Marvin.”
Galen looked dismissive. He didn’t know who Marvin was. Cybele smiled, and that smile that made my loins twitch. My body had a mind of its own. Damn, I needed to get laid, too, which meant I had get back to Valiant and Adrienne soon.
A headache pounded behind my eyes, so I dialed up a stim and a painkiller.
The rumbling and groaning of the station didn’t help. It was a spinning lumpy ball four hundred yards across and largely made of rock. The asteroid was under two dramatic stresses. The repeller that Galen used to constantly vary its motion and the massed laser fire from the demons. Chunks of it kept breaking off and flying away into space.
I’d be pleasantly amazed if this rock held together as long as we’d estimated.
-24-
Six hours later, things were becoming grim.
The laser-bombardment had never even paused. All my hopes and dreams they’d run out of power were fruitless. Whatever these Demon ships were made of, it seemed like they had limitless firepower.
Our once-spherical battle station looked more like a starfish with extra limbs. They’d dug holes so deep they weren’t holes anymore—they were more like chasms.
The fortress’ main sector tunnels now protruded like hundred-yard high towers beyond the remaining rock surface, and many of the subterranean structures stood exposed. The external walls of the cargo bays, for example, showed like half-buried domes, many of them ruptured by the lasers as they continued their relentless cutting and drilling. I had Kwon pull everything and everyone back to the central area.
“It’s time to make some hard calls, troops,” I said to everyone crowded inside the command center. I didn’t expect to hear anything from the stoic Raptors, but I figured it was nice to include them as I laid out our doom.
Turning to Galen, I asked the question in my mind without hesitation. “How long until they fry us?”
“Approximately one hour. If we get inside the armored vault, we may last another hour.”
“But if we do that, we’ll be worms in a can with no options.”
“Yes.”
“Forget the vault. Have you made any changes in your estimate of their carriers’ optimum departure time?”
Galen shook his head, which wobbled a little as if it was full of jelly. I’d become familiar with these small variations from the human norm over time. Really, their disguise, or whatever it was, could only be impressive if you didn’t look at it too closely.
“The math has not changed,” he said.
“I see two possibilities then. We can abandon the station and try to sneak away to be picked up later, hoping they don’t see us. Or, Valiant and Stalker can launch an all-out attack on these six ships and try to swoop in and rescue us.”
Kwon threw his big paw in the air. I pointed to him.
“How ‘bout we use the surfboards to escape? Fly toward Valiant until they can pick us up later.”
Galen cleared his throat. “I believe remaining here is the wiser course. They may break off early. In that case, these riskier plans would be counterproductive.”
“But soon we’ll be out of options,” I pointed out.
Kwon jumped in again, sounding angry. “Riggs, there’s no way I want to die in here, smelling this chicken’s guts as they fry him. Let me try my plan. Sure, I’ll probably die—but at least it will be in open space, doing something.”
I listened to him and nodded thoughtfully. “So we’re pretty much down to two choices. Risk everything now with a low probability of survival, or wait for the end with a zero likelihood of survival.”
Everyone stared at me, wondering what I would do. Except for Kwon, that is. He gave me a knowing grin.
“We’re going to take a chance,” I said with certainty. “We’re going to escape this trap. I like Kwon’s plan. The odds are good that a few of us will slip away in the confusion.”
“Shit-yeah!” Kwon said.
Galen looked sick.
“Galen,” I ordered, “crank the fortress’ rate of spin up to maximum. I want this base twirling like a puke-inducing amusement park ride. We’re going to need all the velocity we can get when we go.”
“Yes, Captain,” Galen said stiffly, turning back to his console.
I looked at the diagram of the station. “Suit, record the direction Valiant and Stalker are located relative to the star patterns you can see.”
“Recording…recording…complete,” it replied as I gave its cameras a good view of all our screens.
I went on, “The sector five airlock looks to be the best bet. Kwon, get everything we have left up there. There’s no point in waiting. Everyone make sure you have full supplies of air, water, and whatever else you need. Galen, how long can you survive in your suits?”
“At least three days.”
“Good. We might need the time.” I gestured. “Let’s go.”
We trooped our way to airlock five. By the time we got there, we could feel the heavy centrifugal force even through the gravplates that struggled to counteract it. I said, “Everyone clip on a safety line. As soon as we open the airlock doors, one slip could send you sliding out into space in the wrong direction. We’ll have to time this just right.”
Kwon smart-welded several thick anchors to the inside of the passageway, and everyone clipped on their safety lines. Next, we overrode the airlock to open both doors at once. The atmosphere roared out for a few moments, eventually leaving us all in vacuum and hanging from our lines.
Magnetizing my boots, I stood up on the floor, which now seemed to be sloping steeply toward the opening due to the combined forces. Stars streaked by as we waited there at the end of the mad merry-go-round. I hoped the station wouldn’t wobble enough to bring us into the line of the enemy lasers.
“No point in waiting. Kwon, hand me those cutters.”
The device he gave me resembled a pair of giant scissors composed of two chainsaws, except the edges were made of spinning monofilament that would cut through anything less dense than stardust. A powerful servo would force the blades past each other, and snip, it would be done.
“Okay, everyone grab a surfboard. Elladans, pair up with Raptors and hold on tight to them.”
Once that was done, I told them, “Unroll your safety lines until you’re dangling off them, but stay inside the corridor. They should be plenty strong enough. Then turn off your magnetics and repellers.”
I did the same, and soon we were all sitting on the tilted deck as if waiting to be dumped off for an orbital drop. I carefully gathered all of our safety lines in one hand and set the two blades of the cutter on either side. “Suit, are you able to analyze the star patterns going by?”
“Star patterns analyzed.”
“Synchronize and calculate when to cut these safety lines so that we are launched directly away from the Demon ships, keeping the base between us. Make sure you include the delay in sliding out of the airlock.”
“Calculated.”
“Listen up, everyone. When I cut the lines, we’re going to slide out like a bunch of children off a waterslide. Reel the loose ends in, hang on to your surfboards and your buddies, and we should be on our way. Don’t turn on any repellers or transmit with any com-links, either. We want to be as hard to see as possible. Unless there’s a life-and-death emergency, nobody moves, nobody transmits, nobody does anything for an hour. Everyone understand?”
When I had acknowledgement, I placed my hands firmly on the cutters and said, “Okay, suit. You actuate the servos at the right time, on the next rotation starting…now.”
Less than a second later, the cutters snapped shut and the centrifugal force spat us out into the void. We spun helplessly near each other like a flock of wingless birds, spreading out with the tiny variations in our trajectories. I suppressed the urge to use my suit to st
op spinning, acutely aware that any use of power or emanations might be picked up by the Demons.
I told myself that every second we waited meant almost a mile of distance gained. If we could make it to an hour, we’d be three thousand miles away—very close in space terms, but hopefully far enough to make us very difficult to spot, especially as we’d be directly across from the crumbling base.
“Boss?” Kwon said in my helmet.
“Radio silence!” I hissed, aghast at the breach in discipline.
“It’s the ansible. They can’t hear it.”
My stomach unclenched. “How do you know for sure?”
“Marvin told me. I asked him once. He said the only way to intercept it is if you have an original piece of the quantum stuff inside.”
“That makes sense. It works by some form of entanglement, which means you have to…never mind. Okay. So, why’d you call?”
“Umm…”
“Well, thanks for the idea anyway, Kwon,” I disconnected and decided to use the same trick to talk to Hansen. “Suit, use the ansible to contact Valiant.”
“Channel open.”
A deep dry voice came on. “Hansen here. I was starting to worry. Your base looks like crap, sir.”
“Not our base anymore. We’re in space, flying directly away from the Demon ships, about three thousand miles out.”
“We’re on our way.”
“Not yet!” I took a deep breath. “Much as I’d like to be picked up, we’re still too close. If you start looking for us with actives, they might too, and we can’t turn on our transponders. You need to wait until they send off the assault carriers with their prisoners and their combat ships are maneuvering to engage the Whales. Then you can sneak in and grab us.”
“You still think they’re gonna do that?”
“Betting on it.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then I hope my waste recycling system keeps working because we’ll be out here a while.”
Hansen snorted. “Your call, Skipper.”
“Yes, it is. How’re the repairs going?”
“Good. Stalker is above eighty percent.”
“Where’s Marvin now?” I asked.
“He took off after he gave us some data. I tried to keep eyes on him, but he swung around Trinity-7, and I never saw him come out from behind it.”
“I think he has a cloaking device, and he doesn’t want to let us know,” I said.
“I wish we had one.”
“Yeah. Tell Adrienne I said hi. Riggs out.”
An hour later, Hansen reported that the Demon assault carriers had begun a high-speed burn to slingshot themselves around Trinity’s central double star, just as we expected, running away from the decelerating Whales. The remaining Demon ships were setting up to die in a rearguard action.
We drifted, and drifted. Many hours later, Hansen called.
“Those Whale ships are big mothers—and heavy. They’re just coming into long range. Their gun ports are lighting up.”
“Their atmosphere is very dense,” I replied. “They must be under immense pressure within their ships. I’d hate to see what happens when one ruptures.”
“Maybe that’s why they don’t like space travel so much.”
I took the opportunity to tell everyone they could use repellers and attitude jets to stop tumbling and gather together for eventual pickup. It was a tremendous relief to see the universe halt its carousel spin.
Hansen relayed the action to my helmet using the ansible. It wasn’t as good as a full tactical display, but it was better than nothing.
The Whales fired one massive salvo of missiles, which apparently turned out to have some fancy anti-interception countermeasures, because most of the Demons were wiped out by the barrage alone. Before they died, the Demons returned fire. For a few minutes, the heavens filled with fireworks.
Those Demon ships that survived were burned down mercilessly. Only six Whale ships were destroyed. As I’d expected, they went up like bombs when they ruptured. The released gas seemed flammable—probably methane and oxygen. With so much high-pressure atmosphere inside, they formed massive, brief fireballs in space.
If I’d been in charge, I’d have chased down the escaping prison ships, but the Whales didn’t bother. They simply cruised on to Ellada, smashing everything that looked hostile. Once they circled the planet, they began a leisurely, efficient course change that would take them home in a few weeks.
“So much destruction,” I marveled. These three peoples might be able to accomplish great things if they weren’t so busy blowing one another up.
Hansen contacted me when the battle ended. “We’re on approach, Captain Riggs,” he said. “We have you on active sensors, and everything looks five by five.”
“Remember to use repellers only,” I replied. “Think of the irony of being fried by fusion deceleration just when life was getting good.”
“Getting good?” Hansen chuckled. “What’s changed?”
“Don’t you know? When the Whales leave, we’ll have the only functional heavy warships above Ellada, so we can have whatever we want.”
“Now you’re talking. Their women are hot. I hope they’re friendly.”
“You and Sakura still not getting along?”
“Does it show?”
Valiant approached at frightening speed, coming to a position of rest nearby before drifting slowly over. The assault airlock gaped, and I eagerly led our battered gaggle of suited figures to land on its broad deck.
As soon as the door had shut and atmosphere was restored, I opened my faceplate and gestured for Galen to remove his helmet. He took it off and sniffed the air suspiciously.
“Sorry we don’t have the nice baths you’re used to, but we do have showers and something resembling soap and towels. Kwon will get you squared away.”
“Soap?” Galen asked, alarmed. “My translation indicates you’re talking about a combination of lye and ash.”
“That’s the basics. There is perfume in there as well.”
Galen shook his head. “Such things are toxic to us. We only bathe in warm water. Nutrients are optional, but pleasant.”
“Nutrients? Like what?”
“Earths, organics…”
I pictured dirty water and shrugged. “Whatever does it for you. We can accommodate your needs.”
I turned to Kwon. “Once they’ve bathed and eaten, assign them quarters and lock them in. Put a guard at each door. Take everything from them except their underwear—if they’re wearing any.”
“I’ll see to it personally,” Kwon said, grinning at the Elladans.
“Captain—” Galen began to protest.
“I’m sorry, Galen,” I said. “I can’t take any chances. You’ve infected my crew before with some kind of agent, and I can’t allow that to happen again. This should only be for a few hours…unless you’d rather occupy a cell in the brig?”
Galen drew himself up stiffly. “Confinement to quarters will suffice.”
“Thought so. Carry on, Kwon.”
First, I dropped off the suit at the armory. Muttering about how I smelled, I headed for my quarters, telling Valiant that I’d be on the bridge in a few minutes.
When I got there, I felt disappointed that Adrienne wasn’t waiting for me. But I suppressed my annoyance. After all, she wasn’t my concubine, lounging around on furs. She was a Star Force officer, one who was no doubt busy right now.
After a quick rejuvenating shower I put on a fresh uniform and headed for the bridge. On my way through the ship, crew and marines greeted me enthusiastically, and a round of applause swept the bridge as I entered.
I smiled, but said, “Back to work, people. All I did was get suckered by some backstabbers and survive.”
“You should be in bed,” Hansen said, standing up to shake my hand.
“With my favorite logistics officer,” I said under my breath, winking. “I’ll
get some sleep soon enough, but we need to strike while the iron is hot, before the Elladans start to feel too safe.”
“Valiant, connect me to Argos,” I said.
Argos was wearing a new, more dramatic uniform when he came into view.
“Did you do something dramatic, Argos?” I asked him.
He frowned. “Certainly not anything like what you suggested. I’ve been presented with new powers of office by my government in an entirely legitimate way.”
Nodding, I decided not to pursue the matter.
“I now represent the entire space fleet orbiting Ellada,” I said. “Fortunately, I consider us to be allies. We have a strained relationship, but we’re still allies.”
“Don’t forget about the Ketans,” Argos warned me.
“I haven’t—but then again, they’ve just left the system. But I didn’t call you to threaten you.” I smiled broadly.
“Good!” Argos exclaimed. “Since you’re an allied fleet, I’ve made arrangements for your comfort. Recall our prior agreement?”
“About supplies?” I asked.
“Not just that. You’ve expressed the need for relaxation on our beaches. Come down to our world and we’ll make sure your stay is enjoyable.”
This was a surprise. I’d been thinking of asking for these considerations, but I’d been reluctant to ask. After all, they’d just suffered a devastating attack.
The odd thing was that now that Argos was offering exactly what I wanted, I found myself suspicious of his motives. If my crew was all on a beach somewhere, they wouldn’t be aboard ship by definition. And contact with the natives—presumably intimate contact in some cases—might lead to further difficulties.
While I pondered my options, Argos kept selling his world like a travel agent.
“The best tropical island we have will be at your disposal. You and your entire crew will be allowed to rest and recuperate, not just in comfort, but in luxury.”
“What about my ships?” I asked. “If we’re all down on the planet surface, who will repair them?”
“We will, of course! Out of a profound sense of gratitude.”
“I see.”
“Did I mention the entertainment?” Argos asked. “The dancers? Countless servants of both genders?”
