by Ken Britz
“Conn, maneuvering, gravitic online. Full thrust capable,” Engineering reported.
“Ahead flank, pilot!” Reed ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
High gravity pushed them all into their creches, hard. Reed’s vision tunneled and he compensated by focusing on the astrodisplay. The corvette turned drunkenly away from Kuro, firing at the torpedoes racing toward her. Slugs streamed past in Kuro’s wake—a final salvo from the enemy’s broken rail gun. The lead torpedoes curved, spiraled, then bloomed and faded into nothingness. Damaged as she was, the corvette continued to take out the torpedoes, the last glancing off the corvette, killed by the aft weapons ring. Not one of them had delivered the killing blow Reed wanted.
“All stop,” Reed ordered, and the crushing acceleration died. “Torpedo room, reload Backbreakers in tubes one and two,” Reed said, his vision too blurry to find the panel commands.
“Belay that order,” a voice said from above. A pale Kenga made her way down the ladder. “Belay that order. Pilot, change course to zero seven five, plus three declination. Head for the Jovian terminus, best speed.”
“Ma’am,” Reed said. “I am in command—”
“My command pin says you’re not.”
“You are unfit for duty. You can barely stand.”
Kenga set her teeth. “Get out of my creche, Commander Reed.”
“I will not.”
Kenga turned away from him. “Weapons.”
“Weapons, aye.”
“Where’s Tan?”
There was a wrenching scream. Systems chirped, and the lights flickered. It was another particle beam ricochet, Kuro rolled to avoid its full effect.
The COB said, “Sorry, ma’am. LT Tan was out hull, clearing the starboard fin fairing.”
“Pilot,” Kenga said, eyes on Reed.
“I have flank speed,” the pilot said.
Reed watched with impotent fury as Kenga assumed command and the crew answered to her. Preposterous! He’d just taken out the corvette single-handedly. Then Kuro shuddered, groaning under renewed enemy fire. The hull breach alarm blared. Reed got control of himself and activated his command override codes.
“Starboard torpedo room hit!” Damage Control reported. “Sealing now. Damage to starboard torpedo loader.”
Kenga went to the XO’s creche and punched up the system, activating the port torpedo bay. She locked the solution and attempted to launch tube two. Nothing happened. Her permission to fire was revoked. Reed grinned. “I have control.”
“Relinquish control.”
“I will not.”
Kenga’s eyes flicked away and back, and someone grabbed Reed, unstrapped and ripped him out of the creche. His head slammed against something hard and he was dazed for a moment. When his wits returned, he was on the deck and Kenga was in her command creche, working through her tactical displays.
Before he could react, the ship was under thrust, pressing Reed to the deck. It felt as though he were being pushed into and through the bridge’s floor. The gravitic impeller was at maximum output, and his suit squeezed his extremities to maintain consciousness. He tried to turn his head, but he was crushed against the bridge deck. The control room was full of people grunting against the thrust and flashing alarm lights. Then he heard a report, far away, and the world got dark.
The crush of acceleration nearly knocked Kenga unconscious. Her mind, still fuzzy from medication, returned to the moments before she’d awakened in her stateroom.
She’d been dreaming.
She was back on Midgard-Sekai, with sting of icy spray on her cheeks, swaying on the deck of her racing yacht, Sea Duty. The skies were iron gray and fractured with distant flashes of lightning. Thoraijin—patron god of Midgard-Sekai and her storms—was on full display, with massive thunderheads piling impossibly high in the atmosphere. She had to be on the southern sea, but the details shifted as her dream mixed memories like a heady stew of emotions.
She laughed as the ship heeled over, the polyfoil sail snapping with a gust of wind. She stood on the deck of Sea Duty, her legs in a wide stance, bare skinned and holding tightly to the polysteel helm. Lin, gray-haired and smooth-skinned laughed with her, her round face split with a grin. She wore the same one-piece swimsuit, though Lin’s was white and scandalously thin, while Kenga’s was black as night. What were they laughing about? The absurdity of it all? They’d often found themselves in one of Thoraijin’s tempests, they were common on Midgard-Sekai.
“You’re almost there!” Lin shouted above the whipping wind.
Kenga nodded, surprised she could hear. She pulled wet strands of hair from her face, but the rain was just a sheet of gray steel pounding the water into a heady froth of whitecaps. The helm fought her, but she felt the micro drive assists through her white-knuckled grip. Sea Duty wouldn’t flounder or flail. She would make it through the storm. Her boat crested a wave and slammed downward into a trough. Kenga flicked a knob, and the polyfoil went partially permeable, the wind now passing through its vanes. The boat heeled back to her center of gravity even as she surged ahead, rolling with the waves.
Kenga laughed and looked around her.
Lin was gone.
Kenga tapped the command to reduce thrust to a full stop. She ached all over, but she couldn’t tell if it was the raging death inside her or the hours of brutal acceleration away from the corvette. Kenga’s vision cleared, but that overwhelming sense of despair churned in her stomach, the knifing pain a reminder that she’d asked her friend to accompany her on a suicide mission. She’d never make it home to Midgard-Sekai, and that made her want it even more than ever.
She moved her joints, flexed her muscles and scanned the bridge.
Reed floated free of the deck, the suit slack around him. His arms and legs hung limp, but his fingers twitched. She snapped the PA system. “This is the captain. We will conduct emergency repairs. All stations report to damage control. That is all.” She snapped off the comms and caught her own reflection in her screen. Her skin was ash gray, but her eyes were bright and feverish. She remembered coming to in her cabin aware her ship and crew needed her, but not sure why. Reed had jeopardized everything she’d tried to avoid. Damn him and the Admiralty!
Damage control reports started filtering to Astro Jin. His expression was puzzled, and she wondered if he thought she wasn’t fit for command. Her head swam, not yet recovered from the hours of acceleration. She didn’t have the inclination to sort out her crew’s loyalties.
She studied the astrodisplay. Their long acceleration curve took them far outside the corvette’s engagement sphere. Optics reported light-minutes of delay. There was no change to corvette, she was dead in space. For now, anyway. Kenga had to admit to herself that she’d wanted to destroy them, but Reed had almost done it.
She shook her head. “Secure from battle stations,” she said, her voice burdened by more than the weight of command. The ship relaxed from combat readiness and the bridge. “Damage control,” she said to Jin.
“Torpedo room estimates two hours to repair the hull. Plating is being stitched and the hull generator in that section augmented,” he reported from the XO’s creche. Reed’s creche.
“Can we undertake repairs under thrust?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jin replied.
“Pilot, resume course toward the Jovian. Keep us at point eight gravity inertial.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” the pilot replied.
Reed got up clumsily and faced her; tension on the bridge escalated.
The mission had reached an impasse. Kenga’s next move would either unify her ship or end the mission. She had to trust her crew and her ship to see it through, but how many would do so?
“Ship’s log. Commander Reed has been relieved as executive officer of the HFSS Kuro Hai. Lieutenant Commander Ito is acting executive officer. Quartermaster log.”
The ship chimed. “Quartermaster has logged the entry.”
“I do not have the authority to confine you to qua
rters, Proconsul, but I have the authority to remove you from my chain of command.”
“You can’t lock me up,” Reed replied, his voice thick from drugs his suit administered to counter the concussion. It took him a few heartbeats to realize she said just that. “I have authority on this vessel. You could’ve destroyed the corvette, and you didn’t. I did it.”
“Was that the mission? To expend half our ship’s ordinance on a single corvette?” Kenga shook her head. “No, you’ve jeopardized more than that. And who will follow you?”
His gaze swept over the bridge like a hawk scanning for prey. Kenga followed his eyes, looking for allies among her crew. Kenga thought they had paused once or twice. She made a note, though she was confident that, for now, she was in control. Reed’s attempt to assume command of the subspace ship was premature. He refused to believe it.
“This is a suicide mission!” he spat. “She knows it!”
COB Wagoner frowned. “Every mission’s a suicide mission, sir. Every subspacer knows that. You should know it, too.”
There was a strangled growl and a man dropped into the bridge and landed on Reed. The massive Gunnar Tan punched Reed in the face, snapping his head back. Reed fell against control room gear and bulkhead and then to the deck. Tan grabbed Reed by his suit’s helmet ring, pulling him up for another hammer blow from his huge fist.
Kenga, surprising herself, leapt out of her creche and snapped her arm across Tan’s, breaking his grip. Reed fell back on his elbows.
“No, Weps,” Kenga said, her voice a sharp crack in the wash of quiet shock in the control room. Reed looked up, dazed and waiting for a blow to come, blood gushing from his nose. The bloodshot, angry eyes of Gunnar Tan bored into him. “Gunnar,” Kenga said, stepping over Reed and breaking Tan’s glare.
Out of the corner of her eye Kenga saw Lin climbing down the ladder, her medkit strapped across her back. Lin seemed angry and yet pleased to see her.
Kenga locked eyes with Tan, though he was looking through her to the man he intended to kill. Tan’s suit was an angry mess. His left shoulder was bloodied and scorched where a laser had burned away his suit. His left arm was locked against his body to keep him from moving his shoulder. He looked like Hel.
“This bastard left us to die out there while he was playing cowboy. Dale…” Tan’s good shoulder sagged as the loss of his chief, shipmate, and weighed on him.
Kenga was sympathetic, but unyielding, her hand on his good arm. “I’m back in command, Gunnar.” She banged her hand on his good shoulder to get his attention. “I need you, Weps. We’re continuing this mission.”
Tan’s features twisted. “I want to space him,” he snarled.
“He was defending the Kuro. Don’t make Dale’s death worse by adding dishonor to it.”
Tan’s eyes finally focused on Kenga, an unspoken plea at hearing his shipmate’s name. He relaxed, and Kenga dropped her hands to her sides.
Tan spat on Reed. “This is no subspacer. This is a murdering bastard who treats crew like dirt. If that’s what the Hegemony is, then I’ll fight for the damned enemy.” He turned away. “I’ll resume my duties, ma’am.”
Kenga held her hand out to Reed, who considered for a moment and then took it. Kenga mustered the strength to pull him to his feet. “This is not how we treat our officers,” she reminded Tan. “He is also proconsul. Seal up and check the damage in the starboard torpedo bay. I need the hull sealed and ready for subspace as soon as you can. We’re going deep to evade the sensor array when we pass inside the Jovian orbit.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Tan said with a curt nod and disappeared up the ladder.
Lin in her white spacesuit gave Kenga a questioning look. “His suit was throwing off all kinds of alarms, so I went to investigate. He was alive and conscious in the forward ’lock. I’m glad the rest I prescribed has done you well,” Lin said, with her calm bedside manner. “I’ll clear you for duty, if you like.”
“After you’ve seen to Gunnar and the rest of the crew.”
Dr. Lin returned Kenga’s slight nod. “I’ll see you in your quarters after I’ve finished my rounds. Anyone in the control room need assistance?” Lin looked around at everyone except Reed, telegraphing her contempt radiated from. She’d have to talk to her friend about that someday. Lin saw Kenga’s frown and then her gaze swept to Reed, who wiped his face and shook his head. She pulled off her medkit and checked him perfunctorily. “It’s not broken, and your concussion is minor. These suits always overcompensate.” She cleaned his face and applied a nanogel to his nose. “You’ll feel all right soon. Okay?”
Reed nodded, and Lin climbed the ladder after Tan.
Reed glared at her retreating back and then at Kenga, touching his nose.
Kenga ignored him and returned to her ship and crew. “Sensors, keep alert and run a stealth profile assessment. The Jovian’s gravity well will give the impeller a boost and help hide us from spectral scans. Feed data to the conn on course adjustments to keep us on the dark side of her terminus.”
“Conn, sensors, aye,” Sensors acknowledged.
Kenga collapsed into her command creche, the energy she had mustered ebbing away like the tide.
Reed flexed and stretched his limbs still stiff from heavy acceleration. He watched the enemy corvette tumble far away from them on the astrodisplay.
“Proconsul.” He didn’t hear her. Kenga cleared her throat. “Proconsul,” she said again.
“Yes, Captain,” Reed said coolly.
She motioned for him to step closer. He hesitated, then complied. “Do you wish to press charges against Lieutenant Commander Tan?” she whispered.
Reed glanced around the control room, aware of the crew listening, but not listening in the professional sense. “No, Captain. It was the heat of battle, and I made mistakes. I won’t forget it, you can be certain,” he shrugged. “But we all have our duties, and the mission is first, as you say.”
Kenga nodded at this. Perhaps Reed, hotheaded as he was, wasn’t as foolish as she thought. Engineer Ito entered the control room. A short and stocky man, he was a competent subspacer and an excellent engineer. “Ma’am,” he said.
“How are we looking?” Kenga asked.
“Damage control is doing their best. The impeller isn’t damaged, and I think we’ve gotten to the root of the issue.” Ito glanced at the executive officer’s creche. “I’d prefer not to take on the role of acting XO at this time, ma’am.”
Kenga raised an eyebrow.
Ito looked sheepish. “Begging pardon, ma’am. I want to make sure the Kuro is ready for subspace when you need her. My assistant engineer is capable, but he’s not experienced in subspace field generation.”
“You can’t manage both duties?”
Ito frowned. She was putting him on the spot in front of the control room crew. Ito was next in the chain of command, so she had to give him the opportunity. If he declined, that was fine with her. It wasn’t worth noting in his record.
She won’t be doing it, anyway.
Kenga held up a hand. “I understand your concern and I agree. Astro, do you object to taking on the role of XO?”
“No, ma’am,” Astro Jin said.
“Quartermaster, log Lieutenant Commander Jin as acting Executive Officer of the Kuro Hai.”
The ship chimed acknowledgment.
“I’ll return to my repairs, ma’am,” Ito said and departed, taking the dorsal lift to the torpedo bays forward.
“Exec,” Kenga said to Jin, “get me a better estimate of subspace transition. I’ll need your assistant astrogator, if you can spare her, to take your place.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Astro Jin said with a small, feline smile.
“The sooner the better, if you please. The inner system is infested with sensor nets we’ll want to avoid if we can.”
18
GLSS Venger
Rigel B Outer System
0458 U.Z.
1254.12.13 A.F.
Cowan and the first lieut
enant stood on the outer hull, inspecting the damage. Venger’s forward decks were ripped open to space, trailing debris vented by explosive decompression. Bots triaged her damaged systems. Her forward torpedo tubes were out of commission and the rail gun forward induction coils and tunnel were wrecked, though they could be repaired or removed, swapping in a functioning weapon, but reduced slug velocity.
The lieutenant said, “Jesus Christ. What kind of enemy are we up against? She hits us and vanishes.”
Cowan stifled an exasperated sigh.
The crew and bots ripped jagged chunks from the hull and slid newer, thinner plating into place. It had been an hour since the sub waylaid them and it would be a day or more before their primary drives were online. They’d be lucky to get anywhere near full engine thrust. They’d known the odds, going up against the sub alone. Part of Cowan wanted to blame both Hollis and Rogers for their timidity, but that wasn’t entirely true. Rogers sought the enemy out alone, and Venger herself chased after the sub on a single drive. The sub had hit back hard then slipped away, angling in-system for the Jovian. Bless you, you wily bastard, Cowan thought.
Cowan turned to check the aft portion of Venger, which was in a less abused state. The hull weaponry and rings were still operable, though they were restricted from firing anything due to personnel out hull. There was something rhythmic to the repair personnel movements, as though Venger’s hull was a writing living thing. The captain’s gig flitted about on tiny thrusters, picking up crew who’d been ejected from the ship when her bow was shot off.
