by Isaac Hooke
Jonathan glanced anxiously at Robert. “Valor is sure taking his damn time, isn’t he?”
The last of the super-suits vanished inside the mothership. Jonathan was about to tap in the Raptor when a yellow dot emerged from the Talon.
Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t tell me the Talon just launched what I think it did?”
“The Talon fired another disintegration bomb at the Elder vessel,” Lewis said.
Jonathan angrily tapped in Wethersfield. “What the hell is going on? I never authorized that latest strike.”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” the liaison officer returned. “Valor gave the order to fire without consulting you.”
“Tell him to stand down,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want any more bombs out there. I told you, I want the Raptor to request their surrender. And recall that bomb!”
Wethersfield didn’t reply for long moments. “According to Valor, the bomb can’t be deactivated or changed from its course once it has been launched.”
“Helm, bring us closer to that mothership,” Jonathan said. “Miko, prepare to fire a concentrated broadside of Vipers at the approaching bomb on my mark.”
Jonathan watched as the flagship pulled away from the rest of the fleet, and the range ticked down between the Elder vessel and the Callaway. About twelve seconds before the bomb was scheduled to impact, Jonathan said: “Fire Vipers.”
He waited. The bomb didn’t vanish from the tactical display. “What did we do?”
“We bored a hole through it,” Lewis said. “But that didn’t stop the thing.”
“Miko, tell the closest unmanned Avengers to intercept it,” Jonathan said.
“Done,” Miko replied.
“I hate to say it,” Robert told the captain. “But it probably won’t work. Those fighters are too small. It’s too easy for the bombs to swerve around them.”
“I hope you’re wrong.” Jonathan watched three blue dots representing fighters intersect with the yellow dot of the bomb. The dots passed right through each other.
“The bomb swerved around the fighters,” Lewis said.
The captain watched helplessly as the bomb struck the Elder ship a moment later.
Jonathan shook his head as more of the hull was eaten away. By the time the decay stopped, another quarter of the mothership was missing, so that only half of the Elder vessel remained.
“Ops, did you detect any gamma ray communications from the Raptor yet?” Jonathan asked the ensign.
“No,” Lewis replied. “There has been nothing.”
Jonathan tapped in the Raptor. “Wethersfield...”
“Valor refuses to stand down,” Wethersfield said. “He wants to fire the remaining two bombs and destroy the Elder entirely.”
Jonathan clenched his fist. “Tell him if he fires, we will destroy the Raptor.”
“The Talon just fired the last two bombs,” Lewis said.
Jonathan slumped. “The fool.” To Miko: “Instruct the nearest fighters to attempt another intercept.”
“Done,” Miko said. “Should I also give the order to fire upon the Raptor?”
Jonathan shook his head. “If we do that, we’re going to find ourselves embroiled with a fight involving all the Raakarr shortly thereafter. And Valor knows we won’t risk losing our communications link to the rest of the Raakarr, and the Elder ship, by attacking the flagship housing our liaison officer and his translator.”
He glanced at the tactical display. The dots of five fighters closed with those of the bombs, and then passed by, leaving the weapons unharmed.
“The bombs easily steered past the fighters,” Lewis said.
Jonathan came to his decision. The bombs were clustered close together. That meant there was one last chance to stop them.
He gave his final order. His last ever as commander of the fleet. “Helm, place us on an intercept course with those bombs. We’re going to sacrifice our ship. Maxwell, alert the crew to proceed to the lifepods.”
“Affirmative,” Maxwell said. The AI’s voice issued the evacuation order over the main circuit.
“I tried to sacrifice the Callaway in a similar situation once before,” Robert said. “When I was attempting to protect our Builder. But the bomb altered course at the last moment, and flew past the ship.”
“We’ll just have to get Maxwell to compensate the best he can for any predicted last-minute course changes,” Jonathan said. “Just like the scavenger out there did. If it could sacrifice itself, so can we.”
Miko glanced at the captain. “We could always let the bombs hit them. Remove the threat of the Elder completely and forever.”
“No,” Jonathan said. “I’d rather negotiate a peace if we can. We don’t know if this is the last Elder ship in existence. If we destroy this one, we might face a hundred more. Look at it. It’s incredibly damaged. Basically at our mercy. They can’t even move. They’re not a threat. I won’t have us destroying an obviously defeated enemy.”
Jonathan remembered what Chief Galaal had told him during his debriefing, when the MOTH was describing the inside of the Elder ship. He said there were buildings, and inhabited caves, and that he guessed the ship was some kind of movable colony world to them.
Jonathan had brought ruin to enough alien races already; he couldn’t bring himself to completely disintegrate that ship, especially not if it was a colony of some kind. Destroying half of it was more than enough.
He noticed that Stanley was trying to tap in. Jonathan reluctantly accepted.
“What the fucking hell are you doing to my ship, Captain?” the chief engineer asked.
“Sorry Stanley, we’re going down,” Jonathan said. “Make your way to the nearest lifepod if you want to survive.”
He disconnected and blocked Stanley from making further contact requests.
Robert extended his noise canceler about the captain. “You’re willing to sacrifice your entire ship because of your principles? The flagship of the fleet, at that?”
“I am, yes,” Jonathan told the commander. “And they’re not just my principles. They are humanity’s. The Navy’s. These principles make us who we are. Without them, the United Systems would be no better than the Zarafe. We always give a defeated enemy a chance to surrender. We never destroy them outright. Not like the Zarafe made us do with their deception.” He shook his head. “Destroying the Elk homeworld was the most heinous act I have ever witnessed during my time in the navy. We’re going to show the Elder it wasn’t us. We’re going to show them we’re better than that.”
“I’m not saying I disagree,” Robert said. “But surely we can find another ship to sacrifice?”
“We’re the closest,” Jonathan said. “It has to be us. Look at the tactical map, Robert.”
Robert’s eyes defocused as if he were doing that very thing. Then the commander sat back. When he spoke, his voice sounded shocked. Distant. “That’s why you ordered the Callaway closer to the Elder. After the last launch, you decided you would sacrifice the Callaway if the Talon fired again.”
“Very good, Commander,” Jonathan said. “This is something I couldn’t order any other captain to do. The burden had to be mine.”
He repealed the commander’s noise canceler.
“Make your way to the lifepods,” Jonathan instructed his bridge crew. “I’ll stay behind to retrieve Maxwell’s computing core after impact with the bombs.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” Maxwell said. “And I am touched. But I doubt you’ll make it off the ship alive with me.”
“I have to try,” Jonathan said. “Now everyone else, go!”
The bridge crew made for the exit hatch. Robert got up, but paused. He grasped Jonathan in a tight handshake. “We’ll leave you the lifepod closest to the bridge.”
“Thank you,” Jonathan said.
“You better make it,” Robert said.
“I’ll make it,” Jonathan insisted.
Robert nodded stiffly, then released him. He hurried off the bridge.
The hatch closed.
Jonathan noticed the MA guarding the inner hatch hadn’t moved.
“Go,” Jonathan told the man. “We’re going to impact in less than fifty seconds.”
The master-at-arms smiled calmly and stepped forward. “Maxwell, proceed with the evacuation of the ship. But cancel the order to intercept the bomb. I repeat, do not intercept that bomb. Lock out the bridge and engineering crew from any further access to the ship. Override code 5452940 tango bravo delta.”
“Override accepted,” Maxwell said. “Bridge crew locked out.”
Jonathan stared at the man, stunned. “Who the hell are you?”
The MA smirked. The armed man slowly slid his laser rifle down from his shoulder.
“I said—”
Before Jonathan could complete the sentence, the bridge vanished.
thirty-two
Jonathan cut himself a portion of chicken pot pie.
“Your chef has outdone himself, as always,” Hartford Knox said. “This is ten times better than the usual fare Charlie makes for me.”
Jonathan glanced at the admiral, who was seated across from him in the captain’s mess. “I actually borrowed the program from Charlie and uploaded it to my chef.”
As he spoke the words, Jonathan had the strangest feeling, like he had forgotten something important. Had he scheduled some important meeting to coincide with the dinner?
He pulled up his calendar on his aReal. The evening was clear. Strange...
“Well, your robot has a more delicate touch than mine, then,” Hartford said. “Charlie always throws far too many spices on everything he makes.”
Jonathan dismissed the calendar and grinned. “I told my chef to copy the program exactly. Portion for portion. Spice for spice.”
Hartford frowned, then chuckled. “Well, chalk it up to my skipping lunch. Hunger: the chef’s best friend.”
“Nothing like a healthy appetite to improve the flavor of a meal,” Bridgette commented.
Jonathan glanced at his wife. “What, are you trying to imply I starve you?”
“Only in the intimacy department, my dear,” she winked.
Hartford erupted in a chortle. “I see you two lovebirds are up to your usual mischief. Neither of you have changed a bit.”
Bridgette wrapped her hands around Jonathan’s upper arm and rested her chin on his shoulder. “And why would we change?”
“For another couple, I would think she was playacting,” Hartford told Jonathan. “But not you two. I know what you have is real.”
Jonathan glanced at Bridgette, feeling like the happiest man in the world. She returned his smile mischievously. There was a hint of hunger in her eyes. Desire.
Jonathan raised his glass. He had broken out the Scotch for his special guest. “To perfect recipes. Perfect wives. And perfect friends.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Hartford said.
Bridgette released him, and all three of them clinked glasses.
“So what’s next for you?” Hartford asked. “Your tour of duty is coming to a close. I have a place for you on Etalon Station, if you’re interested in a shore billet.”
“I’m fairly happy where I am,” Jonathan said.
“You can’t stay aboard a ship forever,” the admiral said. “Sure, you might have another ten years ship-side after you get promoted to admiral, but after that, the personnel department is going to replace you with newer blood. Happens to us all. Wouldn’t you rather be in control of your destiny, and decide where you want to be now? Request a transfer to wherever you want. I’ll see to it that it goes through.”
“Honestly, I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be than aboard the Callaway,” Jonathan said. “She’s my ship. My life. If I lose her, I’ll be set adrift.”
Bridgette wore a surly expression. “I must be the only wife who has to compete against a ship for the attentions of her husband. Sometimes I wonder who he loves more.”
Jonathan glanced at her, unable to hold back a wide grin. “I do love the way the deck vibrates when we’re passing through the upper atmosphere of a gas giant, I have to admit.”
“Asshole.” Bridgette shoved him playfully.
“I’m having a party next week at the station,” Hartford said. “I want you to come along, Jonathan. Think of it as a networking opportunity. There will be many admirals present, and—”
Jonathan found his mind drifting off. There was that feeling again.
I could swear I should be doing something else right now. But what?
He sensed Bridgette looking at him.
He met her eyes. Except it wasn’t Bridgette anymore.
Famina sat in her place. Porcelain white skin. Haunting blue eyes.
“It’s not real, Jonathan,” Famina said.
What are you talking about? Of course it’s real. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. My friend, alive. The woman I love, my wife.
He glanced at Hartford, but the admiral continued blabbering on about the party as if she hadn’t spoken.
“It’s not real,” the woman repeated. “You have made different choices than this. Harder choices. Your path did not lead here. It couldn’t.”
Jonathan stood up.
Hartford glanced up at him, seeming confused. “What is it, Jonathan?”
“I have to use the head.” Jonathan hurried to the exit hatch. When he opened it, he found himself standing on a windy mountaintop. He glanced over his shoulder but the captain’s mess was gone.
The cold whipped into his exposed flesh, and Jonathan hugged himself for warmth. He could barely see through the heavy swirling snow of the blizzard, but it was enough to discern the vast gulf that awaited before him: he stood on the edge of a cliff. Instinctively he tried to access the mapping feature of his aReal to see where he was, but the overlay didn’t activate. He touched his brow: he was no longer wearing his aReal glasses.
The wind seemed to abate somewhat, enough for him to hear a voice with perfect clarity:
“Top of the morning to you, Captain Dallas. You caught me off guard. I didn’t think you’d be powerful enough to disbelieve that. It won’t happen again.”
The master-at-arms from the bridge stood beside him. The man was nondescript, and very ordinary-looking. Though the MAs features were different, Jonathan was oddly reminded of SCS operative Vance, in that this man, like Vance, wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. In fact, Jonathan couldn’t recall ever seeing the MA before.
He suddenly understood why he had been having recurring nightmares of late.
“You’re a telepath,” Jonathan said.
“You could say that,” the MA replied, flashing a cocky grin.
“What do you want?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the MA said. “I want to trap you in this mind world. Meanwhile, in the real world, I take control of your ship and allow the Raakarr to destroy the Twisted Ones.”
The Twisted Ones? Jonathan realized he must mean the Elder.
“Why?” Jonathan said.
The MA inhaled deeply, then gazed out into the storm. “My name is Zhidao. I have lived among you for almost a century. When my species invaded seventy years ago, I was a forerunner, sent to gauge your people, and I determined that you were easily conquerable.”
“You’re a Phant,” Jonathan said.
“Very good,” Zhidao said. “When the Green Phants destroyed the Slipstream leading to this portion of space, my mission never ended. I’m still preparing the way for the arrival of my species. Without the Slipstream, it would take over six hundred years for my race to arrive. But with the help of the Twisted Ones, I have found a way to accelerate their arrival.”
Jonathan considered the MAs words for a moment. Then he understood. “The artifact we took from their ship...”
“You really are good at putting two and two together,” Zhidao said. “That pyramid is actually a backup copy of a database containing all the knowledge of the Twisted Ones. The data is stored in the upper dimens
ions, of course—beyond the capabilities of your simple technology. But I have the means to access it, and I will extract the knowledge necessary to create Slipstreams, among other things. With the ability to create our own wormholes, my race will travel the galaxy at will, conquering everything. We start, of course, with humanity.
“More of the Twisted Ones will arrive once I allow that ship to be destroyed. They will erase your world, so that when my race arrives shortly thereafter, we need simply feed upon the lingering energy residues left behind by the slain lifeforms. Then when we are glutted, we will proceed to the former Elk homeworld and do the same.”
“How did you obtain the security clearance to override my commands with Maxwell?”
“I’ve had over seventy years to infiltrate the upper levels of human government,” the MA said. “This includes the hierarchy of the intelligence services. Power is relative easy to come by with your species. Amazing, the leverage that a small amount of money provides. That, and certain well-placed threats to family members. I arranged privileges with key individuals in the human hierarchical system, privileges that allowed me to pass unnoticed among the crews of your fleet, the AIs complicit in my actions. I was a ghost. A spider weaving its web in the darkness. And now I am ready to reel in my newly acquired meal.”
“Why don’t you just shoot me, back in the real world?” Jonathan said. “Why bother with all of this?” He gestured at the mind landscape with one hand.
Zhidao smiled, then sighed. “If only it were so simple. You see, I might have need of you yet, Jonathan Dallas.”
With that the MA vanished.
“Wait!” Jonathan said. “Wait!”
He spun around but Zhidao was gone.
Now that the MA had vanished, the wind picked up once again, and its frigid fingers scraped across Jonathan’s exposed flesh. He couldn’t hear a thing above the loud gusting.
Jonathan struggled for a while, attempting to make his way down the mountain, but his energy quickly sapped. He couldn’t get enough air, and was literally gasping for breath. He sat down in the snow to rest for a moment, promising himself he would get up again in a few seconds.
But he didn’t get up.
Instead he sat there, panting. His extremities felt so numb. He had stopped shivering some time ago. His body simply didn’t have the energy.
