The Reign_Mara_a Passion Uncontested

by Lance Berry

  “Navigation, plot a course toward Mars. Helm, I want best speed of the null field. Ops, tell whoever’s in engineering that I want the field pushed to the red line and beyond, if possible.”

  There was a flurry of acknowledgments from the cadets addressed. Presently, the reports came back in a “there’s good news, bad news” manner as Singh turned away from his Ops console to address the cadre commander. “Sir, the chief engineer states some puzzlement at your order for a higher speed, but he says they’re standing by down below. However, due to the disabling of our conning tower, safe navigation to Mars is a problem.”

  “Mills, inform our engineer as to why I’m sending my request, and add that if he doesn’t move his ass on it, I’ll personally come down there and leave a lasting impression on said posterior.” He then looked back at Singh. “How so?”

  “Our directional navigation beacon is located in the conning tower, Commander,” Singh continued easily, as if the conversation hadn’t paused in the slightest. “It’s one of the primary systems taken out when the asteroid hit. Without it, we’ll have to eyeball it to Mars, which has never been done before.”

  “Recommendation?”

  Singh huffed lightly, not wanting to deliver the news, but knowing that as acting executive officer he had no choice.

  “Recommend we proceed at space-normal standard thrust, Sir.

  It’ll allow helm and navigation to maintain an adequate visual on the surrounding area of space as we push forward, without running into anything like an asteroid or getting caught in another planet’s gravity. Plus at that speed, we’ll arrive at Hephaestus in a half-day, sixteen hours latest. I don’t see another option.”

  “Given what I’ve just told all of you, we’re going to have to make up another option, aren’t we?” Tellner replied. “If we want to make it back safely at all”

  “Commander?” Cadet Mills said hesitantly as he glanced over his shoulder from the communications board.

  “Is this Interrupt An Officer Day?” Tellner said in exasperation, then caught himself and managed to calm down as he asked, “What is it, Mills?”

  Mills had an anxious, apprehensive look on his face, and Tellner could tell it wasn’t because of him. “I relayed your message to the engineer, but…I can’t get a signal past the asteroid belt. A transpace interference net has been set up.”

  Tellner’s eyes widened and he all but jumped out of his chair as he moved to the communications board to confirm his student’s findings. Even as he began rechecking the data, Mara turned her head to focus on the instructor. “Sir, that other ship…it’s moving toward us. Sensors have definitively tagged it as Calvorian.”

  Tellner looked up at the viewscreen. There was still heavy digital breakup, but even through the visual obfuscation, a shape could be seen moving closer. Tellner ran options through his mind at lightning speed, and realized that the condition the Warner was in, coupled with the inexperience of his bridge crew in real-world scenarios such as this, meant they had little option but to run. “Tactical, can we raise shields?”

  Mara had already checked her board on that, far in anticipation of the question, but checked it again in vain hope.

  “Sir, the majority of magnetic repulsion emitters on our outer hull have been removed. We have a minimal amount of five hundred to sustain minor forward damage, but that’s it. If that ship decides to rip us in half…”

  “Shit,” Tellner uncharacteristically swore, then paced in a small path from communications to his chair and back. “What class ship is out there?”

  Mara glanced at the tactical display. Even with all the decades of war between the two sides, so little was known about the Calvorian Alliance that even the proper class names for their ships remained a mystery. It had been up to UEF to give its own designations to the different class sizes of the enemy vessels. “It’s made as Agrippa class, not much larger than ours.

  Estimated complement of three hundred and twenty-four.”

  Tellner nodded, and a somewhat hopeful expression briefly flitted across his face. “That class was reportedly decommissioned five years ago. It’s a spy ship, nothing more.

  We don’t have usable shields, our lasers are minimal, but we still have antimatter torpedoes. We may just be able to hold them off long enough to get out of this.” He quickly headed back to the center seat, an aura of renewed confidence lending authority to his voice as he ordered, “Navigation, pick the last known clear direction toward Mars and plot a course.

  Communication, signal the engine room to power us up. Helm, get us moving.”

  “Captain—!” Mara began, but it was too late. The ship was rocked severely as something impacted hard against the barely protected outer hull. The Warner yawed hard to starboard, dumping half the cadets out of their seats even as Tellner fought to hold onto his own chair. The bridge lights dimmed severely and several Mainflow Power Routing System conduits

  —the lifeblood of a Heavy Cruiser’s power regulation delivery— overloaded on two of the control consoles. Cadet Crane managed to duck out of her chair as the helm sparked in protest, but the cadet at the auxiliary backup was shocked into unconsciousness.

  Mara climbed back into her chair, thankful that although

  Tellner didn’t order it, she had possessed the foresight to activate the remaining outer shield grids as soon as she reported their existence to him. She saw Crane and Singh had climbed back into their chairs, then quickly began to scan tactical readouts. She was about to make a report when Mills called out to Tellner. “Sir! The Calvorian ship is signaling us!”

  Tellner ground his teeth together a moment, obviously considering options. He shifted his eyes toward Singh and Mara. “Ops, Tactical…status?”

  “Minor damage to decks one through seven. Mild stress buckling of the outer hull. A few more shots, we may be breathing vacuum,” Singh reported, his voice shaking slightly.

  “The forward shield grids are fluctuating, sir,” Mara reported, trying to remain calm as possible and amazed she was able to do so. “If we’re hit again, grids A-21 through B-5 will go first. The loss of those grids will leave the mid-section of this deck vulnerable. If I may venture an opinion, sir…?”

  “Captain,” Mills interrupted in a worried tone, “The

  Calvorian commander is signaling again…”

  Tellner held up his hand to Mills, bidding him to wait. He then nodded to Mara. “Give it to me.”

  Mara exhaled lightly. “I have a targeting solution for the enemy ship. I believe I can get off one antimatter torpedo. It’ll catch them by surprise, then get them with two more. Keep to our original plan of eyeballing a shot to Mars, but take it at the highest speed our null field can manage.”

  Tellner seemed to seriously consider her option, but then shook his head curtly. “It’s a good recommendation, but let’s see if we can’t hold off on risking an armed engagement it’s not certain we’ll win.” He nodded to Mills. “Put the Captain on screen.”

  Mara was dejected, but surreptitiously kept her finger very close to the firing panel as she and the others turned to face the impaired viewscreen. She wasn’t certain the clouded visual had actually changed, until she heard a gruff voice—somewhat like the sound of stone rubbing against stone—speaking.

  “This is Captain Rochlol, of the Calvorian cruiser Misery’s

  Widow,” the alien intoned haughtily. “Your viewscreen is showing significant breakup. We will use our transmission to bolster your own.”

  Mara had never heard of any ship being able to do that… certainly, Heavy Cruisers couldn’t…but sure enough, after a moment the digital breakup cleared significantly enough that the image of a Calvorian officer was quite visible, with only occasional flecks of static jostling the picture.

  Mara gasped fearfully; it was the first time she had seen a live Calvorian, although she had viewed news images of them over the years. This was an imposing creature: a tousled lion- like mane draped around its muscular shoulders like a cloak, wit
h teeth sharper than any knife Mara had ever seen in her life. A darkened nose that flared menacingly, and a vertical scar down the center of its upper left eyelid and continuing to the lower. One of its eyes was blueish-red, the scarred one pale, the color almost fled completely. There were several Calvorian bridge crew members visible at posts in the background, yet all attention from the humans was on Rochlol, who scanned them all intently with his good eye. “Who is it that I am addressing?”

  “I think I’ll be asking the questions here, Rochlol,” Tellner said in a hardened voice as he got to his feet and stepped forward a few paces. “What are you doing in this system, and why did you fire upon us unprovoked? We made no hostile move toward you.”

  Rochlol grunted contemptuously, seeing right through Tellner’s attempt to regain control of the situation. “You made no move because you did not detect my ship,” he said harshly.

  “I fired upon you because we are at war, in case you have forgotten. And while our business in this system is our own, I will tell you—because it makes no difference—that the Widow is here to monitor your ship movements. Your vessel, which is registered in my log as being scheduled for decommissioning, is now our captive.”

  Tellner blinked in surprise, but before he could formulate a response, Rochlol spoke up. “Yes, human…we are quite aware of which ships of yours are out of date. The K-class Cruiser you and your cadets are aboard ceased active service two years ago.

  My own vessel has been here the better part of a day, observing all that has gone on in this star system. Yet when the incompetence displayed by your helmsman led to the damage of your vessel and presented us with the opportunity for your capture…I simply could not resist. You are outclassed and outgunned. Surrender yourself now, or you and your cadets will die.”

  Mara felt her heart beating faster and faster, knowing that her option might be the only way out of this situation. But Tellner had told her to belay firing, and she couldn’t very well refuse his order. She and some of the other cadets looked at him expectantly, while Siesto and Katie helped revive the cadet that had been shocked unconscious.

  Tellner kept his poker face in place as he responded, “You’re an idiot, Rochlol, plain and simple. Do you think you can fire on an Earth ship in our own backyard and not have anyone notice? This ship—all training ships, in fact—are constantly monitored along each leg of the journey. Our transport from Earth to Luna, then the Warner itself from Luna to Mars. In fact, setting up a transpace net to cut off our communications was the dumbest thing you could do. By now, at least five Cruisers—”

  As Tellner spoke, Rochlol snapped a command to one of his underlings in their native tongue. A sharp beep from Mara’s board brought her attention back to the tactical display, and she turned just a bit too late to the commander. “Incoming!”

  But the bridge was rocked yet again, before she could finish her sentence. There was the sound of straining metal from above, and several of the overhead lights blew completely, leaving the bridge nearly in pitch blackness. As the ship slowly righted itself again, Mara checked her status readout. “Grids A-20 through B-7 are down,” she called out over her shoulder.

  “Hull breach on this deck, amid-ships. Life support failing at that quarter!”

  Rochlol sneered derisively—or was that what passed for a grin among his people, Mara couldn’t tell—as the humans checked their consoles for functionality. “You are a bad liar, teacher.” He said this last word in a particularly disdainful manner. “I know training ships are not monitored, in order to allow instructors as much autonomy as possible to demonstrate their knowledge to their students. I know Mars is not expecting you, as we have also been monitoring all transmissions within this sector. I also know that our next shot will disintegrate your shield grid completely, and breach your forward hull. But I have no wish to kill you, or such valuable cargo.”

  Tellner blinked in confusion. “Cargo—?”

  Rochlol nodded. “My vessel has a crew just over three hundred, Commander. It has been quite a long while since we have put to port, so to speak. I am willing to…what is that fascinating human expression…cut a deal with you.”

  Tellner started to say something, then stopped himself.

  “What kind of deal do you mean?” he asked instead, trying to buy whatever time he could.

  “I am willing to allow both our ships to go their separate ways. I will leave this system and you can proceed to Mars.

  However, there is a ‘toll’ to pay. We scan five working transports in your launch bay. You will send over the female half of your crew complement in them to us. Any refusal, any delay, will result in the immediate destruction of your ship and the obvious loss of all life aboard. All lives which you are responsible for. You have one minute to comply.” And just like that, Rochlol cut the transmission on his end. Without the boosted support from his signal, the viewscreen immediately clouded over completely once more.

  Silence reigned upon the bridge of the Warner. The cadets looked to one another, their faces mirroring their shock at Rochlol’s demand. There was fear in the eyes of the female cadets, and those eyes shifted to Tellner, as all wondered if he could even possibly be considering the alien’s demand.

  “I’m not going over there,” Mara spoke up defiantly, harshly, before she was even aware she was speaking. She had gone through enough torture having to deal with what Tallworth had done to her, and the impact it had on her life. She would be damned if she’d climb aboard a transport to suffer God only knew what horrors waited aboard the Calvorian vessel. If it meant racing off the bridge and wresting a Zuk-Lar pistol from someone, she’d kill herself first.

  Tellner stared at her blankly and shook his head. “That’s not even an option, Elliot,” he said quietly in response to her statement, and there was a type of hurt in his voice, on his face, as if he were personally injured by her seeming lack of faith in him. He glanced at the clouded viewscreen once more, then back to her. “Are you certain you can charge a torpedo and get it off at that ship before they realize it?”

  Mara nodded, although in truth she wasn’t as certain anymore, not with so much at stake. But she didn’t care; death was preferable to the sadistic fate the Calvorian had in mind.

  If Tellner had been able to see through her deception, he said nothing, although he did stare at her oddly a moment before turning to Crane. “Helm status?”

  Crane had reclaimed her seat as the two ship commanders had their exchange. She looked over her shoulder at Tellner.

  “Helm’s a bit shaky, but still workable. The ship may be sluggish in response, but it’ll get moving.”

  “Navigation, do we have our course to Mars plotted?”

  “Yes, sir,” the navigator said, not looking back at his cadre commander, while trying to stealthily wipe away a tear.

  “It’s going to take tight synchronization to get us out of this, crew,” Tellner said tightly. “Once Elliot fires, it’s all a go or nothing.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Mara. “On my mark. Three, two, one…” and pointed his finger at her.

  Mara tabbed the firing panel, and even as the tactical readout stated a torpedo was launching, a sharp, steady blaring sound emitted from the machine. A second message appeared, overriding the first, and Mara gasped in amazement as she read it: Torpedo chamber blocked. Misfire. Misfire.

  There was an unearthly roar of tearing metal which took on a brief, piercing crescendo which seemed to stab through Mara’s brain. The deck of the Warner pitched upward and back as Mara and everyone on the bridge were flung away from their consoles. The most forward part of the bridge splintered like the center of a snapped pencil, sending shards of metal blossoming up from it. The viewscreen and the rest of the overhead lights went out, plunging the bridge into darkness mottled only by the occasional blinking of lights from the various consoles.