by David Winnie
“Eight’s ass. Move your drop path,” Annika yelled. She clicked her comm switch and called, “Negative, Looking Glass. Rook Three is unable to comply. Angels one twenty and climbing for three fifty. Still on fire.”
“Calm down, Mousey,” chuckled Rita. “The fire is dying. Keep climbing.” Calling her Mousey was a good sign. Rita was calm and trying to relax her pilot.
“Ditch the turret, Sweetie,” Annika ordered. A resounding thump indicated Rita’s immediate compliance. The ship, lightened by a ton and a half, accelerated.
“Mousey, ease us a little to the right, just a few degrees,” Rita ordered. Annika lifted her foot just a bit off the left yaw peddle and eased the stick a tiny twitch right. She felt Red Queens slip, then steady. A large glowing object abruptly filled her windscreen. Before Annika could react, it thundered past, shoving the ship violently out of its way with its wake. Annika struggled to straighten out the Red Queens.
“Drop ship,” Sweetie reported. “Missed us by, oh, fifty feet.”
They continued their climb. By 200,000 feet, the fire died. Annika cautiously advanced her right throttle. The ship shuddered and vibrated. She retarded the throttle and pulled the fire handle.
“Gods below, we’re getting clobbered down there,” Rita reported. She was monitoring the comm. “Rook Two got hit and went in. Haven’t heard from Bishop or Pawn flight.” Annika grunted acknowledgment. She had to focus right now, get the ship in orbit.
Worry about missing friends later.
She eased the ship into a comfortable orbit at 350,000 feet. “Rook Three, angels 350,” she reported. “One engine down, still packing four.”
She wouldn’t be allowed to land a damaged ship with ordinance aboard. “Rook Three, Looking Glass. Wait one, we’ll find a target.”
Moments later, Looking Glass called with a target. Rita programed the attack, the bomb bay doors swung open, released the weapons and snapped closed.
It was time to relax. The Red Queens was in a safe orbit, could wait for the other two ships from Rook flight to arrive, then make its way back to Vengeance. Annika monitored the comm. It wasn’t good; there was a higher number distress signals than usual for an operation like this. The planet was too backward and the bombardment should have knocked out its defenses.
“Eight’s crusty ass!” Rita exclaimed from her cockpit. “Mouse, look at this.” On her display, Rita was running the turret’s film of the attack. Anika was slightly disorientated watching the screen slide and roll while she was holding the ship level in real time. On the screen, blue/white balls danced across. The image rotated with the turret and she saw the flak tower. Rita stopped the film and zoomed in on the weapon site.
It was an Imperial anti-ship weapon.
An old one, at least ninety standard years old. But the Empire never discarded any weapon that was still usable and never sold them when they became obsolete, preferring always to recycle them.
So what was a ninety-year-old Imperial anti-ship gun doing on Mykonos Three?
The image changed. Now it was Annika’s forward firing gun camera. The image slid as she rolled away from the bomb release and centered on the gun firing at the Red Queens.
It was a twin of the first. Annika yelped happily as the movie showed her destroying the gun.
The image shuddered and shifted back to the turret. They were bobbing and sliding all over the sky, but Rita could stop at a frame that showed the third gun was twin to the first two.
“What is going on here, Captain?” Rita’s voice was furious. “How is a piddly ass, backward planet getting our own stuff to use against us?”
“Rook Three, Rook One.” Flash Morgan sounded tired.
“Rook Three. Glad to see you, Flash,” Annika replied.
“You too, Mouse. O.K. Let’s head to the barn.”
“Where are Two and Four?” Annika asked.
“They’re down. Two is gone, four just about made orbit, but they’re gone, too,” came the flat reply.
“Eight’s arse.”
“Yeah. Form up, let’s go home.”
The flight back to Vengeance was short and quiet. As a damaged ship, Red Queens had to hold in the pattern while the undamaged ships landed. Of the forty that had launched, thirty-two returned.
All the undamaged raiders landed safely. Now Annika would be allowed to dock. With a dead engine, Red Queens wanted to slide to the right. Annika furiously worked the remaining throttle on her good engine and the attitude jets. Red Queens wallowed and swerved, then dropped laboriously onto the recovery sled. Mechanical clamps secured the ship to its transport carriage. Annika shut down the remaining engine as the transport bearing the damaged bomber trundled to its maintenance bay. Exiting the ship meant opening the hatch beneath her feet and crawling out through the bomb bay. She ducked out of Red Queens, ripped off her helmet and threw it, screaming. It skittered and bounced, coming to a spinning rest against a bulkhead.
“What in the Gods’ names are you doing with your flight helmet?” came a roar.
Annika groaned. It was Colonel Rolando Byrd, Captain of the Vengeance. She stiffened to attention and saluted. “Is there something wrong with your helmet, Captain?” His voice dropped in volume only slightly.
“No, Sir,” Annika said. “It, ah, slipped out of my hand while I was removing it.”
“Slipped,” the colonel repeated.
“Yes sir. Slipped,” Annika confirmed.
“Halfway across my hangar deck.”
“It was very slippery, Sir,” Annika replied with a straight face.
“Well, Captain, since your hands seem to be so slippery this afternoon, I’m thinking some credits should slip out of your hand and buy a round in the wardroom tonight,” Colonel Byrd stated. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. Slightly.
Annika was beaten. Considering what the Colonel could have done, she was getting off easy. Although it would be expensive. “Yes sir, very fair,” she answered.
She walked over to her helmet and bent to pick it up.
And fainted.
Annika came to in the medical bay. Doctor Raymond Boyce’s face hovered above her. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain.” His smile was warm.
Of all the personnel aboard Vengeance, Doctor Boyce knew her best. Her unique physiology required his personal attention. He was calm, unassuming, treating Annika like a favorite daughter rather than an Imperial science experiment, as had other military doctors. She liked him immensely.
He handed her the electrolyte, which she drank eagerly. Doctor Boyce shook his head. “I have no idea how you tolerate that stuff,” he commented. “I tried taking just a sip once, while you were downloading.”
Annika giggled. “How sick did you get?”
Boyce chuckled. “I couldn’t tell which was worse. Going down or coming up.”
“My husband tried it once, too,” Annika told him. “He was sick in bed for two days. Served him right. So, Doctor, why am I here?”
“You don’t remember?” Boyce asked
“No. I was in the hangar bay, getting chewed out by Colonel Byrd,” she stated. “Then I woke up here.”
Doctor Boyce told her. “Well, in medical terms? You fainted.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Doctor Boyd shook his head, “Yes, you did. Why else would you be here?”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she said, annoyed. “I have a superior body. My superior physique is too strong to faint.”
“Under normal circumstance, I would agree with you,” said the doctor.
“’Normal circumstance.’” Annika repeated. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He looked at her for a long moment, then asked, “Annika, when was the last time you saw your husband?”
“Four weeks ago, on Advance Station Thirteen,” she answered. “He and I were able to get a twelve-hour liberty together.”
“Four weeks, that’s about right,” Doctor Boyce said in a far-off voice. “Tell me, Annika, as y
our doctor, I’m assuming you were intimate.”
Annika blushed. “Yes, we were.”
The doctor looked relieved. “That’s wonderful,” he said. “Congratulations.”
“For what?”
Doctor Boyce took the empty glass and handed her a glass of water.
“You’re pregnant,” he announced.
A macabre celebration in the ward room of the Vengeance happened that evening. Pawn flight was gone, all four ships were missing with their crews. The two ships missing from Rook flight. One ship each from Bishop and Knight Flights. Happily, three crewmen had been recovered. The rest were missing or confirmed dead. The ceremony had started off solemn enough for the missing thirteen shipmates. Now the party was in full swing, as the crews drank to forget they’d be flying into combat tomorrow.
Annika hadn’t joined into the revelry. She stared out the window. Pregnant? How could that happen? She and Yuri were always so careful. She reviewed the shore leave. It had been so long, months, since they had been together. They didn’t have long, only twelve hours. And she was so happy to be with Yuri.
It wouldn’t affect her flight status for now. At four months, she would have to be removed from combat. She would remain on duty and eligible to fly shuttles until she delivered.
Politically, it made no difference. Their heir children had been “born.” Having natural children had always been looked forward to by previous Khans and their partners. But, the timing was not good. Within the year, she would be twenty-five and ascend to the throne. She held no illusion that the Regent, Ming si, would meekly step down. Gavin Howland, Admiral Thiessen and Noire were preparing for the inevitable civil war to come.
And she was pregnant.
Annika dropped her head to the table and covered it with her arms. This was a disaster. Nothing less than a disaster. What would happen now? She couldn’t see herself leading the charge up the steps of Argulea Palace, a rifle in one hand and a baby in the other.
Still, Yuri would be thrilled. She rolled her head into the crook of her arm. Truthfully, she was, too. Master Tahn had shrugged his shoulders when they asked him if it were possible for Annika to get pregnant. “I didn’t modify your reproductive organs,” he told her. “So, it will depend entirely on how your body reacts when the blessed day happens.”
Rita plopped down across from her. “Hey, Mousey, why so glum?” Clearly, she had drunk more than the round Annika had purchased.
Annika lifted her glass of water. “Toast me, Sweetie.”
Rita lifted her glass. “Okie-dokie. What am I toasting you for?”
“I’m going to be a mommy.”
Rita snorted. “Some toast. You already have eight kids.”
“No,” Annika sighed, “I am going to be a mommy.”
It took a second for the announcement to sink in. “How? What? Who…” Rita stammered. “Oh, Gods above, Mouse, this is WONDERFUL!”
Maybe from your point of view,” Annika grumbled.
Rita stood on her chair. “Everyone!” she hollered. “I give you a toast to Captain Annika Russolov! And to her loving husband, Colonel-Doctor Yuri Russolov!”
“To the Russolovs!” cheered the entire room. They didn’t care why. It was a toast.
Rita sat. “You really are crazy, Sweetie, you know,” Annika grinned.
A shadow fell across the table. It was Colonel Byrd. “Captain, Lieutenant.” He nodded to the women. “Russolov, come with me.”
In the wardroom, three other colonels were waiting. “Captain,” stated Colonel Byrd, “this is Colonel Scott of the Victor, Colonel Hannirabbian of the Vulcan and Colonel Lui of the Valor.” Scott was friendly-looking with a blonde lock of hair curled on his forehead. Hannirabbian was a dark Hindi. Lui was an Asian woman, older than the other colonels. She spoke first.
“Captain Russolov, you will brief us on your mission today,” she demanded.
Annika did as she was ordered, from the launch through the attack and recovery. The colonels listened in silence.
“Why did you review the gun tape prior to landing?” asked Hannirabbian.
“My weapons officer noticed an anomaly with the enemy weapons during our attack,” Annika reported. “She showed me for confirmation while we waited for our element.”
“What was left of your element,” challenged Lui.
“Rook element took heavy losses during the attack,” interjected Colonel Byrd. “Pawn and Knight Elements also suffered heavy losses.”
“We all suffered heavy losses,” Hannirabbian countered. “Much higher than we were led to believe would be possible. Now, we may have our answer as to why. How did Mykonos obtain advanced technology?”
“Thank you, Captain Russolov,” Colonel Scott sounded condescending. “I understand you fainted when you returned? Nothing serious?”
“No sir,” Annika lied. “My electrolytes had gotten low. Doctor Boyce administered the necessary treatment.”
“Admiral Theissen’s fleet will arrive at fifteen hundred hours,” Colonel Boyce announced. “Captain, you will take a shuttle over when he arrives. He will want to discuss this incident. Your weapons officer will accompany you. Dismissed, Captain.”
Annika sat her desk, trying to pen a letter to Yuri. My darling, I have wonderful news… She wadded it up for the tenth time and threw it in the recycler. She had to tell him, of course; she wanted to tell him. She wanted to stand atop the Morning Tower at Giza and declare it to the universe. I, Crown Princess Annika Raudona Russolov Khan, Goddess/Queen of Terra, am going to be a mother!
But the words stuck in her throat.
In a few hours, she would face her uncle. How was she going to tell Admiral Thiessen? Uncle, Yuri and I were just a bit irresponsible, so we’ll have to put the revolution off until after my child is born.
A tap at the door; Colonel Lui let herself in. “Listen carefully,” she hissed. “There is a strike launching in fifteen minutes. An Icarus is waiting for you and your weapons officer. Your call sign will be Zulu Four. Form up and accompany the strike until the insertion. The Azahnti will be off your port side, twelve hundred fifty miles away. Waste no time, head straight to him and land immediately. Tell no one. Do you understand, Captain?”
What of the shuttle, Colonel?” Annika asked.
Colonel Lui responded with fury. “There is no time for discussion except to tell what Admiral Thiessen’s message to me said, half an hour ago; ‘The enemy within is set to strike,’ Am I clear, Captain?” She spat the title.
“Yes, Colonel.”
Colonel Lui glared, but raised her hands. “For ten thousand years, Highness,” she said, and left.
Halfway to the hangar in her flight gear she heard a call. “Hey, Captain!” It was Colonel Scott, also wearing flight gear festooned with patches, denoting him as a Buccaneer fighter pilot. “I’m headed to the hangar, Captain. A little overdressed for a shuttle trip aren’t you, Captain?”
“I was ordered after my meeting with Admiral Thiessen to transfer a replacement Icarus here to Vengeance,” Annika fibbed. “I was going to grab a bite to eat before reporting to the Azahnti.”
Colonel Scott asked, “Next year, when you turn twenty-five, do you expect to leave the army and ascend to Khan? Or will you continue your career and wait for the passing of the Regent, as per custom?”
“The law of my ancestor makes no provision for a Regent,” Annika’s voice was cool. “Therefore, I am bound by law to claim my title next summer.”
Colonel Scott nodded his head, the lock of hair bouncing. “Ah, my launch bay. Good hunting, Captain.”
She hurried to the launch bay assigned to her craft. Rita was already there, pre-flighting the ship. It was clear that this ship wasn’t in pristine condition. But for a quick shuttle mission to the Azahnti, it would be adequate.
Rita was oddly quiet. She had finished and already wiggled her way into the aft cockpit. Annika donned her helmet and climbed up into her seat. The ship felt strange, like visiting a place that looked like h
ome, but wasn’t. The seat bottom had a strange feel. She wiggled her rump, but it still felt wrong.
She missed the Red Queens.
They went through their checklist while the technicians prepared the rest of the ship. They were trolleyed over to the launch tube. A yellow jersey handler signaled Annika.
Annika gave him a thumb up. He smiled and signaled the launch crew.
“Ready?” she called.
“Yeah, let’s go,” was Rita’s quiet reply.
Something was bothering Sweetie. Annika saluted and the ship shot from its tube. She arced about and began the orbit around the Vengeance, searching for Zulu flight.
They formed up and headed toward the planet. Annika responded to all the callouts from the flight lead. She suppressed a touch of jealously. Zulu flight was getting back into the fight. She would have to wait for another day.
The call came and Zulu flight dropped into the atmosphere. Annika pulled up and looped around the planet. “Azahnti at point six,” called Rita. “Light them up, let’s get out of here.”
No, Sweetie wasn’t herself. Annika was now concerned. “Hey, Sweetie? Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” was the terse reply. “Get us to the Azahnti as quick as you can.” Soon they were on approach to the flag ship.
Azahnti was a heavy command attack carrier. His forward two thirds were star shaped when viewed from above, the forward arms drooping down, the two-aft curling upwards. Each arm flared into a launch bay larger than Vengeance. Aft of the launch bays, the ship rounded into a thick waist, carrying the largest missile battery Annika could recall ever seeing. The stern mounted a quartet of massive star drives. Azahnti wouldn’t slug it out with other capital ships. Her eight hundred fighter and bombers would engage the enemy behind the thousands of missiles she would fire from her flanks.
“Land on the port side forward,” Rita ordered.
That’s curious. She’s giving orders now?
She shot the perfect approach and recovery. As the ship was trolleyed, Rita spoke up. “Annika, stay put until I come get you.” Again, with the orders! When did Sweetie start issuing orders?
