“The honor is mine,” Stanch replied. “Your reputation precedes you, so I leave The Skull in your capable hands.”
A gasp rippled across the bridge as all eyes turned to stare at Stanch. Xander lowered her gaze for a moment, looking at her hands, curling and straightening her cybonic fingers, inspecting the smooth sheen of her prosthetic palms, and as the sleeve of her tunic slipped back, Dex saw that her forearms had no scales.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stanch said. “I didn’t…I mean, I wasn’t referring to…”
“It’s all right, Captain,” the commander said. “I’m sure no offense was meant. Think nothing of it.” She squared her shoulders. “Captain, with your permission I’d like to bring two officer cadets onto the bridge. It should be a quiet shift and this is an excellent opportunity for them to shadow their colleagues.”
“Yes, of course, that’s a wonderful idea,” Stanch gushed, peering past Xander to inspect the cadets in their distinctive maroon tunics. “Nailsea, Cricklade, it’s wonderful to see on the bridge again. How are you finding the academy?”
Nailsea and Cricklade grinned, their heads bobbing in unison. “Excellent, sir” Nailsea said. “Hard work but very rewarding.”
Cricklade smoothed her tunic, casting an admiring glance at Xander. “We’re very thankful for this opportunity. Not everyone gets to serve on The Skull. The other cadets in our cohort will be very jealous. They’d give their right…” Her face fell. “Their…back teeth to be here.”
“A bit different to the galley,” Stanch said jovially, adding, “And that’s where I’m heading now. I must see if your replacements are living up to your standards.” He gestured toward his chair. “Commander, be my guest. You have the bridge.”
“Aye, Captain,” Xander replied, stepping forward. “I’m looking forward to getting my hands on the controls.”
Stanch managed a strained smile, then he acknowledged her with a brief nod before exiting the bridge.
“Commander, if it’s all right with you, I’ll stay on the bridge for a while,” Dex said. “I have a few modules I’d like to check from here, and I’m not needed in engineering at present.”
“Carry on,” Xander said, taking her place in the captain’s chair. “And, Chief Engineer, I’ll expect a full report on the debacle with the gravity generators.”
“Okay,” Dex said slowly, “but the incident has been completely resolved, and I have already reported my findings verbally to the captain.”
Xander raised an eyebrow. “Lieutenant Commander, I don’t know how things have been run in the past, but I don’t appreciate my orders being questioned, and I’m unaccustomed to delay. Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, Commander,” Dex said smartly. “Apologies. I meant no disrespect. I’ll complete the report as a matter of priority, and I’ll personally han…er, I’ll have it on your desk within an Andelian hour.”
“No, you won’t!” Xander snapped. “On this ship, we’ll use only Kreitian hours as mandated by Coalition Standing Order three seven nine five point four.”
Dex’s heart sank, but he kept his tone neutral. “Aye, Commander. Consider it done.” He concentrated on his console, thinking, Not another damned time change. They’ll be furious in the galley. The last time we did this, it took them months to get the clocks right on their microwave ovens. His eye went to an amber warning light on the tactical display. He furrowed his brow. The threat indicators were registering an amber alert, but when he expanded the display, the warning disappeared. Dex grimaced. Damn this operating system! There’d been a rash of false positives since they’d left space dock, but most of them had only affected minor systems. This is another kettle of ice squid, he told himself. The tactical console was a critical system; if it failed, the ship would be wide open to an attack. Just as well this is only a trial run, he thought with a wry smile. There was no way he could take The Skull into combat in her current condition. No way at all. He couldn’t rely on a damned thing.
And I’m none too sure of our new first officer, he decided. A bundle of laughs she’s turning out to be. But he pushed the unworthy thought aside. Xander was a legend. She’d earned her rank and then some, working her way up through the elite Andelian Expeditionary Force and serving her time on extended missions to chart the outer reaches of the galaxy. She’d been injured when her ship had been struck by some type of previously unknown energy beam. The captain had been killed outright, but she’d taken his place, rerouting the power grids in her crippled ship and taking it into warp for just long enough to reach safety.
Only afterward did her shipmates discover that she’d steered the ship manually, keeping her grip on the helm even though lethal radiation had poured from her console. It was a miracle that she’d survived, but Xander had adapted to her cybonic limbs in record time, and she’d returned to the fleet as soon as she could, taking the first post that was available and serving continuously ever since.
We’re lucky to have her aboard, Dex told himself. I’d better get on with the fault report she asked for. And I’d better make it good.
Meanwhile, Zeb went to take his place, and the young lieutenant at the science officer’s console acknowledged him with a wary smile.
“Sir, all sensors are operating correctly, and we have a green panel.” His smile faded. “There was one thing I wanted to bring to your attention, but it’s probably nothing. I don’t know why I mentioned it. Just a glitch I expect.”
Zeb dipped his chin as he studied the young Andelian. “Lieutenant Helkon, if you want to make it as a science officer in this fleet, you’ll need to grow a thicker skin.” A puzzled frown crept across Helkon’s features, so Zeb swept on before he could interrupt. “You need to toughen up a little. Don’t worry about what people will think. It doesn’t matter if you turn out to be wrong. It’s your duty to report anything out of the ordinary, and then you can follow it up with further investigations. So, what did you find?”
“The gas collector array picked up an unusual trace approximately eight minutes ago. It only lasted a second, but for a moment, it looked like there was another ship approaching us rapidly to starboard, but before I could tell anyone, the trace vanished.”
Zeb pursed his lips. “Were there any other indications that might confirm your hypothesis? Any other signs that an unidentified ship was close?”
“No, sir. Nothing.”
“And did you rule out instrument error?” Zeb asked.
Helkon’s expression brightened. “I ran a full suite of diagnostics, sir, but sensors were all operating within acceptable parameters.”
“I see.” Zeb laid a hand on Helkon’s shoulder. “Young Andelian, you’ve got to remember that whatever they teach you in the academy, and whatever you might learn from all the manuals and simulators, this ship is still just a huge hunk of metal drifting through the void. The gas collector array, for example, is a gigantic dish-shaped structure on the front of the ship, and as such, from time to time, it accumulates…what’s the phrase I’m looking for?”
“Flotsam and jetsam, sir?” Helkon offered. “Space junk?”
“I was going to say piles of crap, but your terms are better,” Zeb replied. “Anyhow, what you really must remember is that all kinds of little things like this occur during the daily running of a huge warship like The Skull, and whatever happens, you can’t go around bothering your superior officers every time you feel like it. Understand?”
Helkon’s eyes moved slowly from side to side. “But, sir, what you said earlier–”
“Judgment!” Zeb interrupted, raising his finger in the air. “Experience. Maturity. These are the things that you lack. Work hard, Helkon, keep your head down and watch your superiors. Then, you’ll learn when to speak and when to shut the hell up.” He offered Helkon a tight smile. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Helkon snapped to attention. “Sir. Thank you, sir. I shall endeavor to improve before my next shift.”
“Yes, well, you can go now, Helkon. Get out of here befo
re you strain a muscle or something.” Zeb watched the young officer scurry from the bridge. A trace on the gas collector. Ridiculous. Where do they get these kids? He smiled as he focused on his console, resetting the panels into the configuration he preferred. But his hands hovered over the diagnostic controls. I guess one more sweep couldn’t hurt, he told himself. Just in case.
CHAPTER 10
Krisk
Surrana stretched tall, arching her back, flexing every muscle, and letting out a gentle purr of pleasure.
Zorello eyed her greedily. “Feeling better?”
Surrana nodded. The injection Zorello had given her was doing its work, and already, the pain of her injuries was fading fast. And there was something else. She placed her hand on her stomach. A fire burned there: a furious hunger. Revenge. She savored the shape of the word in her mind, picturing her enemy. Rawlgeeb. The name had a face attached to it now; Zorello had shown her an image and explained the situation. Rawlgeeb is to blame for everything. She thought of Rawlgeeb’s gangling form, the body she wanted to see bent and broken. Lifeless.
“Well, well,” Zorello said. “I see the gleam returning to your eyes. You are ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Zorello smirked. “To practice your skills, my dear. I’m sure it’ll all come back to you once you engage in combat. I have a small staff of guards here, and they will make excellent sparring partners.”
“All right,” Surrana said. “She rolled her shoulders. We can start slow. One at a time.” She formed her hands into fists, jabbing at the air, her feet shifting themselves into an elegant stance that seemed familiar. “Nothing too heavy though. I don’t want to set myself back.”
“That would be one approach,” Zorello agreed. “But on the other hand…” In one stride he crossed to the wall, reaching out to punch a button. “Guards! Intruder in the medical bay.”
“Are you kidding me?” Surrana demanded. “You want me to fight all your guards at once?”
“Something like that.” Zorello chortled to himself, then he pressed the button once more. “Shoot the intruder on sight. Aim to kill.”
Surrana grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. “What the flek do you think you’re doing? I could be killed. I have no idea how to fight. None!”
“We’ll find out in a second.” Zorello stepped back from her. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t stay. I’d rather watch from the safety of my control room. I have cameras everywhere.”
Surrana stalked toward him. “Countermand your order! Do it now.”
“Sorry.” Zorello tapped something on his wrist, and the next moment, he was gone.
“Shim!” Surrana heard the rumble of boots and searched the room for a weapon. She ripped open the wall cabinet, seizing on a scalpel and a long-handled pair of scissors. With one weapon in each hand, she faced the door, breathing hard.
The first guard to burst in was a burly Andelian, a bolt pistol raised and ready. Without hesitation, he fired at Surrana, but already, she was in motion. She sprang lightly into the air, feeling her body twist as she dodged the bolt easily. The scalpel left her hand to sail through the air, but she didn’t follow its path. Instead, she grabbed a shelf with her free hand and swung her herself upward, rolling her body into a neat tuck. She landed nimbly on her feet beside the doorway where the first guard lay dead, the tip of the scalpel’s handle protruding from his eye. But she had no time to admire her handiwork. Two more guards rushed at her, loosing hasty shots as they charged. Surrana darted forward to meet them. Her hand lashed out, once, twice, the scissors clamped in her fist, and the guards tumbled heavily, dead before they could cry out.
A barrage of gunfire erupted from the corridor, but Surrana moved too fast, and the bolts ricocheted harmlessly through empty space as Surrana retreated back into the medical bay. The room seemed to pivot around Surrana as though she was the one fixed point in space. Her body flowed, pure energy surging through her muscles, using every ounce of momentum to good effect. The next three guards to enter the room saw only a blur from the corners of their eyes. One collapsed, a pair of scissors embedded in his throat, and somehow, the rifle was wrenched from his dying hands. Surrana fired just twice, and the remaining guards staggered backward, neat holes burned between their eyes.
Surrana heard more guards dashing along the corridor. She could run. She could get clean away and find Zorello, make him pay for the way he’d treated her. But then again, she thought, why stop when I’m having so much fun?
She smoothed down her jumpsuit. And she smiled.
CHAPTER 11
GIT Experimental Vessel The Wasp
En route to Mars
Brent stood behind Ellen, peering over her shoulder as she typed furiously at her workstation. “You know,” he began, “this whole thing would go quicker if we had a decent warp engine.” He threw an unfriendly glance at Rawlgeeb who was occupied at a workstation across the aisle. “We could’ve been to Mars and back by now.”
A spark of irritation flashed in Rawlgeeb’s eyes. “My government gave your people warp technology years ago.”
“With the heart cut out of it,” Brent shot back. “Oh, they must laugh their pants off, sitting pretty on The Gamulon, looking down on us mere mortals puttering around with our teeny little ships.”
“I very much doubt it,” Rawlgeeb replied. “In the ranks of the Gloabon Government, all forms of humorous expression are frowned upon. Unless you’re in the bath at the time, when chortling is encouraged in moderation. It helps everyone to…never mind.”
“What?”
“Forget it, Brent. You wouldn’t understand.”
Vince let out a low moan. “Don’t even talk about it. I swear I’ll never be able to go into a public restroom again. The smell! It makes me want to heave.” He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Change the subject. Please.”
“All right,” Brent said slowly. “Ellen, how are we doing? Are we nearly there yet?”
“What are you–ten years old?” she muttered, then she exhaled noisily. “Okay, I’ve programmed the last known coordinates of Surrana’s shuttle into the scanner, but all I’m picking up so far is some debris. Quite a lot of debris.” She turned in her seat. “There’s a chance that the shuttle broke up.”
“Or she scuttled it,” Brent replied darkly. “A classic move. Switch ships, blow the old one, destroy the evidence.”
“Except, she was in, you know, space,” Ellen argued. “It’s not like she could hike to the nearest highway and stick her thumb out. If she destroyed the shuttle, she’d be dead in minutes.”
“She could certainly make it look that way,” Brent said.
Ellen shrugged. “I suppose, if she had an accomplice, she could’ve met someone and they could’ve zinged her aboard.”
“No, that’s highly unlikely,” Rawlgeeb said. “Assassins work alone. Their guild prevents any form of cooperation between members.”
“Maybe this is the exception that proves the rule,” Vince put in.
“And that kind of lazy thinking is why the human race has never gotten anywhere,” Rawlgeeb protested. “If there’s an exception, then there is no rule worthy of the name.”
Vince bridled. “All right, so she went rogue. She decided to break free from the guild and play things her own way, then she took on a partner.”
“You don’t understand,” Rawlgeeb said. “For Gloabons, the sense of order, of discipline, is burned into our bones. But for the Guild of Assassins, the code is life itself. They’d rather die than break its laws.”
Brent raised his hands for silence. “You’re all missing the point. I never said she had an accomplice, but I’m thinking that she could’ve switched ships some other way. You have to remember, she’s not just tough, she’s also cunning as hell, and if she wanted to disappear, she’d find a way.”
“Let’s take that as a premise and see if it stands up,” Rawlgeeb suggested. “Say she wants to get taken aboard a ship, how would she identify a vessel t
hat might pick her up?”
“Long-range scanner,” Ellen replied. “All GIT shuttles are well equipped. With the scanner, she could find a ship, ping its transponder and cross-reference it with the public records.” She paused, frowning. “She wouldn’t be able to guarantee that it would come close to her though. The other ship could easily change its course before she had time to scuttle her own vessel.”
“She could draw it in somehow,” Vince put in. “If she put out a distress call–”
“Every ship and space station in the area would’ve been on to her,” Rawlgeeb interrupted. “She needed to remain anonymous, hidden until the last moment, so there’s no way she could risk a distress signal.”
“Wait a minute,” Brent said. “Vince might be on to something. Ellen, you said there was lots of debris.”
“Yes. Quite a cluster. And not just any old junk either. I picked up a coil signature, like maybe there was some part of the core still intact.”
Brent clicked his fingers. “Bingo! That would’ve looked pretty sweet to a certain kind of ship, am I right?”
“A salvage vessel,” Ellen said. “Yes, if one was in the area, it would’ve been like bees to honey.”
“Again,” Rawlgeeb cried, “your idiom makes no sense. Bees make honey, they are not attracted to honey. They already have it.” He clutched at his brow. “How you ever stumbled out of the Stone Age, I’ll never know.”
“Aw, give it a rest,” Brent growled. “When you talk like that, it makes me want to bash your goddamned head in.”
“Case in point.” Rawlgeeb sat back, folding his arms. “Perhaps this discussion would reach a conclusion faster if we daubed a few crude images on the wall.”
Brent clenched his fist. I’ll daub something against the goddamned wall, he thought, and I won’t need a brush because your arrogant head will do just fine. But while unbidden images of blood and fire pounded through his mind, he swallowed his dark threats and hit Rawlgeeb where it would hurt, beating him back with a wall of words. “At least I’m on to something here. It’s obvious to anyone with an ounce of common sense. She placed her shuttle on a salvager trawler’s route, ejected her engine’s coil, then got ready to bail out. When she knew the salvage crew was close enough, she jumped ship and set the damned thing to self-destruct. She took a chance that her suit would keep her alive until the scrap haulers turned up and pulled her in.”
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