by Terry Mixon
“I believe our subject is a Zombie-class destroyer,” Evan continued. “They’re pretty common inside the Empire and have been for almost a hundred years. They’re light, fast, and relatively well armed for their size. They don’t have beam weapons or battle screens because they don’t have the power-generation capability to support them.
“I suspect the difference in frequencies that I’ve detected are explained by battle damage that’s been repaired using Singularity parts. I’m making an educated guess on the ship’s class based on our passive data gathering and the scanner signature itself. The ship is mostly occluded by the orbital, so I won’t have any confirmation for another half an hour or so.
“My best guess at this point is that the ship was captured in battle years ago. If we can figure out who she was, we can report her status to Imperial Intelligence when we get back home.”
“Or we could take a more proactive approach,” Kyle disagreed with a grin. “If this ship really is an Imperial destroyer that the Singularity captured, I’m proposing that we take her back.”
Grace found herself blinking in shock. She pressed her palms against the table and leaned forward.
“Excuse me? We’re on a freighter that doesn’t have anything but concealed weaponry, I only have a platoon of marines, and you want us to board and capture an enemy destroyer? Have you lost your mind?”
“While I’m not supporting Alan’s plan just yet, let’s take the time to hear him out,” Anders said, his tone placating. “If we decide that it isn’t feasible, we can reject it. I know this sounds crazy, but we do have certain advantages if we can figure out a way to get around the obvious downsides.
“There haven’t been any battles where we’ve lost a destroyer in repairable condition in at least a decade. The computer systems on that ship have undoubtedly been replaced with the Singularity versions, but that doesn’t mean that all of the original equipment has been removed. In fact, it almost certainly hasn’t, and that works in our favor.
“You see, there are programs buried in Fleet secondary systems that someone with the appropriate authentication codes can use to bring them online. As a former destroyer captain, I have those codes.
“So long as that ship wasn’t lost more than sixty years ago, I should be able to subvert the antiboarding weapons and use them to disable the crew. The big downside of that is that I’d have to be on board the ship to make that happen.”
Grace started to say something but stopped herself before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. When she felt that she had a good grasp on her frayed temper, she allowed herself to speak.
“First, why would Fleet put something like that on their ships? Second, how do you keep it from being used against you? That seems like a crazy thing to have, since anyone in the know can just use them to turn a ship against her own crew.”
Anders shot her a small grin. “The program has to be activated by the ship’s assigned senior officers. That’s only done if they feel that the ship is about to fall into enemy hands. It’s part of the protocol that wipes all the data on the computers. Only after that’s done can someone like me waltz in with the right codes to use the system.”
Grace didn’t see the point of having that capability, but it hardly mattered. If he said the capability was there, that was all that really mattered. Still, it didn’t make Kyle’s plan any more palatable.
“Even so, you’re making a lot of assumptions there,” she argued. “You can’t be sure that the Singularity hasn’t stripped out the program you intend to use. Even if they haven’t, how do we get you aboard that ship? Let’s say that we actually manage to take her back. How do we get her out of the Singularity?
“Leaving those questions aside, why would we possibly do any of this? We’ve accomplished our primary mission, and we’ve got a freighter full of valuable cargo that will set us up for the rest of our lives. Why in the universe would we take an insane risk like this?”
“Honor,” Anders said simply. “Every objection that you’ve raised is valid, and so is every question that you’ve asked. The thing is, that ship was once one of ours, and we have to at least consider if it’s possible to get her home.
“I don’t think this will be quite as insane as you think. In fact, it might not even be that difficult to get on board her.”
He turned his gaze to Kayden. “If we were to do so, it would require some duplicity from you, but we wouldn’t even have to lie about what we were doing. After all, we’ve just come from the system where a transshipment center blew up.
“For whatever reason, this destroyer stayed here rather than going with the other two. The captain is going to want to know what happened.
“If we make a stop to perform a small repair in orbit and transmit a courtesy itinerary to control and the ship, it’s an almost certainty that they’re going to want more information. I’m certain that a clever fellow like yourself could wrangle a dinner invitation for himself and his senior officers to tell that story in person.”
Kayden shook his head. “I find myself in agreement with Lieutenant Tolliver. We’d be putting everything we’ve already accomplished at risk, and I’m not willing to endorse something like that without a very good reason. One that I’m afraid Commander Kyle and you have not made a case for.”
“Have you considered how large a share recovering a functional Imperial warship would be?” Kyle asked with a big grin. “That isn’t some ancient relic. That class of ship is currently in use by the Empire today and will be for the rest of my life, most likely. It’s a modern warship.
“Bringing him back into service would mean getting shares based on almost his full value. The cargo we have is worth a lot, but that ship has to be worth nearly as much. Maybe even more.
“At the very least, we need to consider our options carefully. If we decide not to go after him, we can always continue on our course, but we have to at least talk about it while we have a chance.”
“What use is money you never live to spend?” Kayden countered. “They could reward you with a noble title and a promotion, but how much would you enjoy them posthumously?
“And you’ve now referred to that ship with both female and male pronouns. Please explain.”
“It’s a Fleet thing,” Grace said before Anders could respond. “Our ships are she or her. Hostile ships are he or him. Since this was once a Fleet ship, it’s she in the historical sense but he when considering her current owners.”
“That seems needlessly complicated,” the merchant complained with a sniff. “Couldn’t you just use the same term for everyone?”
“It’s tradition,” Anders said. “When you’ve done something a certain way for thousands of years, it takes on a life of its own.”
There were a few seconds of silence as Grace thought about the plan they’d laid out. In the end, she just shook her head.
“It’s a mirage. A pool of water seen in the desert when it’s not really there. Don’t allow the illusion to lure you to your death.”
“Once again, the Lieutenant has the right of it,” Kayden said seriously. “Let’s say we were unreasonably lucky and captured that ship. Marvelous! What would we do next? We already have to use her marines to perform basic tasks aboard Bright Passage. Are you telling me that we’re going to be able to do that and also man a destroyer?
“I understand that you once commanded a ship like that, Captain Anders. I want you to put aside your emotions and think very carefully. With one platoon of marines and the small crew from this freighter, can we even minimally man that ship while still bringing this freighter home?
“I also doubt very seriously that the cargo containers we have aboard would fit onto a destroyer, at least not many of them.”
Anders grimaced and tapped his fingers against the table. “We wouldn’t be able to operate the missile batteries, except perhaps one or two in a pinch. We’d also be running back-to-back shifts with minimal personnel, but it’s still possible.”
Be
fore anyone else could say a word, Anders sighed and shook his head. “Still, I get your point. A man’s reach should always exceed his grasp, but perhaps not by that far. Sadly, I’m afraid that I have to agree with you, even though I really don’t want to. We’ll continue on and just settle for getting the best information that we can to pass on to Imperial Intelligence.”
Grace leaned back in her chair, more relieved than she was willing to admit. Marines were crazy but not that crazy. Trying something like that would’ve been suicide.
A chime sounded from Anders’s tablet. He frowned, picked it up, and tapped the screen. “Yes?”
“We’ve received a transmission, Captain,” someone said, her voice loud enough for Grace to hear. “It’s from the warship in orbit around the gas giant. They’re instructing us to change course and assume orbit near them.”
The unexpected news made Grace sit bolt upright. Had something tipped them off? Why the hell did a Singularity warship want them to heave to? Was it just them looking for news or something more sinister?
“Did they tag us specifically or all the freighters?” Kyle asked, leaning forward so that the slate could pick up his voice.
“Just us, Commander. It might be because we fell a little bit behind the other freighters while we were gathering information. The rest of the pack is a bit farther along in their trajectory leading to the next flip point.
“It might also be that we’re the smallest of the freighters, and they don’t want to inconvenience any of their big commercial carriers. Honestly, I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Anders said with finality. “We can’t outrun that ship, so we’re going to do what they say. If possible, we’ll keep our options open, but we might have to consider Alan’s plan after all.”
That was absolutely not what Grace wanted to do, but she understood that their circumstances had changed, and not for the better. If they had to execute Kyle’s insane plan, she really hoped it worked, because they were out of good options.
“I have one other piece of information, Captain,” the voice over the com said heavily. “They’ve identified themselves as the heavy cruiser Ever-Loyal Warrior.”
Anders squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Evan, remind me to make note of this epic blunder in your next efficiency report, on the off chance that we survive. Confusing a heavy cruiser for a destroyer isn’t a good look for a tactical officer of your caliber.
“Dark humor aside, this just turned a difficult task into an almost impossible one. We’re all going to have to be on our A-game, or this is going to end us.
“Grace, you might need to be visible on the vid pickup, so get into something other than your skinsuit. They’d know that’s military. And hurry. We might not have much time.”
27
One Twenty-Four followed Fei into a compartment filled with crates of varying sizes that almost reached the ceiling in places. She had no idea what they contained, but if they were for the marines, they probably held something useful in combat.
The woman pulled down a couple of smaller crates and set them up as makeshift benches. She helped One Twenty-Four up onto one and then took the other for herself.
“This isn’t going to be easy to watch, and if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, I won’t judge you,” Fei said, her expression somber. “If you’d like, I can simply tell you what happened.”
One Twenty-Four shook her head. “This woman died protecting me, so I think that she deserves my complete attention. I was unconscious when she died, but I was there. As difficult as it may be, I need to see what happened for myself.”
Fei nodded and handed her a slate. “If at any point you change your mind, there’s no shame in that. Watching something like this is difficult, even for a marine.”
There was a vid already queued up to play, so One Twenty-Four tapped the button. The scene showed a large corridor through which a number of marines were moving with their weapons up and apparently searching for anyone that was a threat to them. She’d never seen anything like it before.
The crèche guards had certainly never behaved in such a manner. Their movements had been clumsy in comparison, and it was obvious that the marines had far more experience at this sort of thing.
When the ambush came, the marines found places to squat and minimize their aspects before returning fire. Well, almost all of them.
One had been caught in the open by the ambushers and was furiously returning fire, seemingly to give her teammates time to respond. One Twenty-Four knew instinctively that this must be Anne Marie Scott.
She almost missed the device that the ambushers threw at the marines but witnessed the figure standing in the corridor snatch it out of the air, clutch it to her chest, and bend over to shield the marines behind her from whatever it was.
A tremendous blast of light and energy blanked the video. When the display cleared, Anne Marie Scott was gone.
There was nothing left of her. It was as if she’d never been.
One Twenty-Four watched the remainder of the fight. She saw the marines overrun the crèche guards and kill them. It was bloody and ugly, but part of her felt a vindication that she couldn’t explain. A satisfaction that was undeniable.
They’d been after her, and if they’d caught her, she’d have died. One Twenty-Four regretted Anne Marie Scott’s death, but she still didn’t understand why the woman had done what she’d done.
When the vid ended, One Twenty-Four handed the slate back to Fei. “I don’t understand. She could’ve allowed the weapon to fly past her and perhaps survived. Why would she do something that made her own death inevitable? Her act was obviously intentional, and she knew exactly what would happen. Why did she do it?”
Fei took One Twenty-Four’s hand into hers. “Many people think that marines exist simply to kill others. While that’s certainly part of our duties, I’d argue that it isn’t our primary purpose at all.
“Each of us dedicated our lives to the protection of others. In our training, we learn to be the guardians of our fellow marines. The battlefield isn’t a safe environment, and so we often face death or injury. If we can save a fellow marine, we don’t hesitate to act.
“Anne Marie did have a choice. She could’ve allowed that plasma grenade to land in the middle of the squad. She might have survived the explosion, but it would’ve certainly resulted in the deaths of almost everyone else, including you.
“In that split second, she made the choice to exchange her life for her friends and for you. She was a genuinely selfless person and made an incredibly brave sacrifice that I’m not certain many marines could or would match.
“As human beings, our survival instincts are strong. Marine training focuses us so that we’re fighting the enemy rather than running to preserve our own lives, but no one wants to commit suicide.
“She chose to give the squad a chance to survive and paid for it in blood. She chose to give a child a chance at life at the cost of her own. Though the rest of us probably wouldn’t have done something so dramatic, if it came down to a choice between allowing a child to die, of allowing our friends to die, we’d plant ourselves in that position to buy them time. We each know the cost of what we do, and we do it because we’re Imperial Marines.”
One Twenty-Four had never heard of anyone possessing that level of dedication to others. Inside the crèche, such behavior was unheard of.
She cast her mind back over what she’d seen of the marines during her time on board the ship. She didn’t know them well enough to know if Fei was accurate in her assessment, but she had to assume that she was. The woman knew these people far better than she did, after all.
What was blindingly obvious was that the strangers were willing to risk their lives for her sake. That certainly didn’t fit with the information that Keeper had presented about the Empire.
One Twenty-Four came to them as their enemy—or at least she bore the markings of their enemies—yet they’d made a conscious decision to ri
sk themselves for her. To die for her. That spoke of a completely different type of morality than existed inside the crèche.
Grace had been gravely injured in the fighting. One Twenty-Four remembered the doctor pulling a flechette out of the woman’s back. It had gone through the armor that she’d been wearing, which One Twenty-Four knew to be thick because she’d now worn it herself.
She’d intentionally turned her back to the enemy to shield One Twenty-Four with her own body. The possibility of death from that act had to have been high. A few more seconds and the flechettes would certainly have penetrated the damaged armor and killed her, yet she chose to risk her life for One Twenty-Four.
All of this was so very different than the crèche. Her line sibs might stand up to someone like Thirty-One if their behavior became destabilizing, but every individual was expendable.
If Keeper had decided to eliminate One Twenty-Four, it wouldn’t have bothered anyone in the crèche other than One Twenty-Four herself. No one would’ve raised an objection.
Some would’ve been pleased.
She hadn’t raised any objections when Seventy-Three and the others had been killed after their failures during the tattooing process. The concept of resisting had never even occurred to her.
What would Keeper have done if she’d objected? That act would’ve almost certainly shocked the woman, but it wouldn’t have stopped her.
In all likelihood, One Twenty-Four would’ve joined them in death because of her defiance. Keeper didn’t tolerate insubordination. Each of them had learned that lesson at a very young age.
But now the crèche was behind her. If Grace was victorious, One Twenty-Four would have a new life inside the Empire. Whatever form it took, she now realized that she had to have a greater purpose to give it meaning.
The marines had a purpose. They served their Empire and emperor, but more importantly, they served one another. Would she have the strength and commitment to do something like that?
