by Damon Alan
The Michael Stennis had his nuclear weapons on board. There was no more war against the Hive, the fleet had made peace with the locals, and therefore nobody had thought the weapons had any use. Turns out they were wrong.
He stood on the bridge. His crewmates had departed on the shuttle that came to rescue the caretaker crew. The emergency locator beacon had worked and the Fyurigan had diverted a shuttle to save them.
Had he left with them, there would be no chance to save this ship. Without Nartek’s intervention, it would incinerate in the atmosphere of Ember as megatons of iron dense asteroid ablated into vapor around it.
No. I will not allow that. Now or ever.
He and the bridge AI returned to planning the salvage operation.
The comm light lit up again. The hails had been non-stop, really, but he’d answered each one.
A progressively higher set of NCOs and officers had ordered him to unseal the bridge and return with the rest of the caretaker crew. He’d refused, politely, each time. He’d referred to the order as an unlawful directive, and referred the person to the proper Alliance code allowing him to ignore it.
They had become more infuriated with him with each refusal. One deck sergeant had even released a stream of profanity on him. He assumed the higher the rank, the less they were used to being disobeyed.
Sighing, he tapped the comm button. “Michael Stennis.”
An attractive face popped up on the main viewscreen. He’d seen it many times before, but this time it made him him shake. The woman had a reputation for being nasty when she didn’t get her way.
There was no choice, he was going to have to defy her. He gulped and his knees were weak. This was the woman who’d kept him healthy and alive since his first mission with the Alliance. Despite her reputation, he respected her greatly.
He hoped his willpower held out.
“This is Dr. Thea Jannis, acting Fleet Captain. Sergeant Schavinski, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Where is Captain Dayson?”
“Indisposed at the moment. Answer my question,” Dr. Jannis barked at him.
“What am I doing? I’m saving this ship, Captain,” he answered. “At least if my plan works. Or dying in the effort.”
“You’ve disobeyed,” she paused as she looked down and shuffled something off screen, “fourteen orders to abandon ship.”
“I think it was only seven, but they were unlawful orders, sir.” Nartek found inner strength to push his stance. “It is a violation of Alliance code to knowingly allow military equipment to be destroyed or damaged when a reasonable possibility of salvage or protection of that equipment is present.”
To his surprise, Dr. Jannis laughed. “We are no longer under Alliance authority, sergeant, and the rules have changed. There is at best only a remote chance the Stennis can be saved.”
“I still have three years of service left on my enlistment to the Alliance, Captain, and I disagree with those engineers.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “I love that ship as much as anyone, sergeant. It kept me alive many times too. I know what you’re feeling. I know what you want to do seems like your only choice. But in the end it’s not worth your life. We have other ships, and the Stennis is already crippled.”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t really care if he’s crippled. I am going to save him.”
A long pause made him uncomfortable. The woman stared into his soul.
“Nartek, the engineers on the Fyurigan say your plan has almost no chance of working.” She shook her head. “Despite you submitting it repeatedly.”
She’d used his first name. Was that good?
“They were wrong each time, sir. They are not here. I am.”
She chuckled. “I can see that I am not going to change your mind. I’m getting used to losing battles and embracing humility in these last weeks, so maybe you can win one for me. Tell me your plan, and it better be good.”
He smiled for the first time in days. “It’s simple, Dr. Jannis. While the Fyurigan engineers are right that the surface of the asteroid was shattered to rubble by the first nuke, they are not right that it is shattered throughout. If it were, I’d agree with them that the loose rock would simply scatter instead of absorbing energy and fixing the orbit of this drydock.”
“Do you have proof that the asteroid is still intact internally?”
Nartek took a deep breath before continuing. “Only what I can test from the drydock chamber. The cradle that holds the Stennis is huge. I have inspected it along its length and there are only a few minor stress cracks in the rock. The moorings for the ship are still anchored solidly. Using ultrasound to scan the asteroid, I have mapped the internal structure. If it were rubble, I’d get no return signal, but I’m getting a strong signal, Captain. It’s not as fractured as the engineers insist it must be. A couple of nuclear weapons from the Stennis, properly positioned, will stop the decaying orbit and should put the drydock on an outward spiraling orbit.”
“And what do you hope to achieve with this?” she asked. “If the asteroid isn’t rubble now, I’d think it would be if hit with two more nukes. If the chamber you’re in collapses, you’d be trapped inside.”
“If the asteroid shatters and entombs the ship, some of the energy will still become momentum away from Ember. It might shatter, but I believe it will be in a stable orbit, Captain. Or at least one that is no longer decaying. That would give the engineers time to dig me and the ship out. Even if he’s damaged, he’ll still be here.”
She paused and stared into his soul again. Something was different in her from what he’d seen during their encounters before. She had authority that came from more than just a title. That was changed.
“Sergeant Nartek Schavinski, I hereby authorize you to take extraordinary measures to salvage the Michael Stennis as per Alliance code. You think you will succeed, and looking at your record, it is not unreasonable that you have the expertise to make an on site assessment that is different than the experts who are not there.”
A sobbing laugh escaped him. “You will not be sorry!”
Her face reflected her understanding. “I will have someone relay the codes for the nuclear weapons to you, sergeant. You select which ones.”
“I understand, sir.”
“If this doesn’t work and you can be evacuated, Sergeant Schavinski, you will evacuate on the rescue shuttle following the attempt to save the ship. Understood?”
“Understood, Fleet Captain, and agreed.”
“Then make this happen.”
“I will, sir, thank you.”
A long silence, after which her voice seemed as kind as he’d ever heard it. “No, sergeant. Thank you. Jannis out.”
Chapter 39 - Captain’s Personal Log
35 MAI 15329
AI Lucy82A recording, Captain's personal log, personal archive: Galactic Standard Date 11:41:05 35 MAI 15329
Personal log entry #1044, Acting Fleet Captain Thea Jannis, origin Dulbagnore, Pallus Sector.
Current Location: On final approach to the civilian freighter Palino.
Alarin wounded. And now I’m in charge. My friend, and long suffering companion Sarah Dayson is probably dead. She will be remembered for her deeds.
[After several minutes of silence, a crinkling sound is heard. AI estimates 97% probability is an instant dinner being opened.]
Stars, these things are terrible. Why is the food on shuttles so much worse than in the galleys?
[Captain Jannis’s diction is distorted, she is likely eating while recording this log.]
There is a remote chance the Stennis might be saved. With the Hinden dead and the Schein in enemy hands, the old man is now the only option left to counter Orson. We didn’t think we needed him. But we were wrong. One brave man, Nartek Schavinsky, has agreed to make the effort.
[a sigh]
This is my first log, and it’s not all bad news. Lieutenant Commander Peter Corriea says he has discovered something about t
he adepts’ gift. Or maybe two somethings, he’s not sure. Regardless, I’m hoping he can develop them into the weapons we need to protect this system and, if need be, kill Orson.
That’s right. I said kill. It’s time I realize that some people aren’t worth the life that flows in their veins. And now that I’m in command, that lesson is coming none too late.
Peter’s working with an adept named Emille, who I have never met. She seems a bit like an impetuous kid without any real guidance based upon the reports I’ve read. Shades of Merik. I hope Peter has her under control.
That’s all I have time for right now.
End the log, Lucy.
Chapter 40 - Second Chance
35 MAI 15329
Thea’s shuttle clicked gently against the Palino.
As the door opened Peter was there waiting for her. He grabbed several of her bags and handed them off to other personnel to carry.
Thea couldn’t help but notice the redness in his eyes, but she didn’t mention it. Until there was a way to hold a formal ceremony, everyone would mourn those lost on the Hinden as they could.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Resting, doctor,” Peter said as he helped her float through the airlock seal. “Nobody here was prepared for this, I think. They’ve just been keeping him sedated.”
“Nobody was prepared for any of the last month,” Thea said as she patted the small medical cooler next to her. “Sedation is probably for the best at this point, since I have what he needs to heal.”
She thought again about how this situation would turn out different if she didn’t have the nanites.
Barbaric. Their society was going to have to get used to the idea of disability again.
“Take me to him,” she said. “I might as well get the curative process underway. The sooner I do, the sooner I can get back to dealing with the needs of our surviving fleet.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Peter asked.
“You can figure out what the adepts can do to help us fight Orson. And let me worry about the rest.”
He led her through the maze of corridors and through one massive hold. Finally they reached the outgoing lifts to the habitation ring and artificial gravity slowly oriented her so that by the time the door opened, up was up and down was down.
She stepped into the small med bay. “Wait for me out here,” she told Peter. She left him and headed into the patient areas. A nurse led her to Alarin.
His face was bandaged, blood had seeped through the gauze in several spots. “Oh, my, Alarin. You’ve looked better.”
She grabbed a pair of shears and cut the bandages away. The tissue below was swollen, lacerated, and lumped in ways it shouldn’t be. His eyeballs were still there, but the corneas were damaged.
“Get me an injection unit that will allow me to get these into his system,” she told the nurse. “We’ll need to introduce no more than a tenth of a milliliter per minute to avoid the nanites clotting to each other.”
“Size?” the nurse asked.
“Four milliliters.”
The nurse brought her the tools she needed and Thea hooked it up herself. The nanites drizzled slowly into the IV tube hooked into Alarin’s arm.
“Once this drip is complete, use this one,” Thea said as she dragged a liquid filled bag from her travel pack. “It has the nutrients the nanites need to rebuild his tissues.”
The nurse nodded and hung the bag adjacent to his current saline drip, ready for the transfer.
“He’ll be okay until then?”
“Sure,” Thea answered. “They’ll utilize his fat cells until they get this soup.” Thea gestured at the bag. She poked at his thigh. “He appears to have been eating well, so he’s got the reserves.”
The nurse laughed. “You just called him fat.”
“Fat? No. Well fed? Sure.”
“Good thing he can’t hear you.”
Thea looked down at his face. Could he? He was an adept.
Surely not. He was sedated heavily.
“Don’t rebandage him. Leave the wounds air exposed, the nanites will deal with any infection and they need to be able to work unobstructed by outside pressure.”
“I’ll let his doctor know.”
“Explain to him that if he changes my orders, I’ll have him cleaning latrines,” Thea said. “I’m also the Fleet Captain now, and he and I have seen professional difference before. With this man,” she patted Alarin’s arm, “I am not to be questioned.”
The nurse looked at her, puzzled for just a moment, then nodded. Probably seen doctor to doctor pissing matches before.
But Thea wasn’t going to take any chances on this one. Her orders were paramount.
“I’ll enter into his chart the treatment regimen.”
After doing so Peter took her to a room to rest. Tomorrow, once Alarin was on the road to recovery, she’d deal with preparing the fleet for an attack from Orson.
Chapter 41 - Alarin’s Fate
Time Unknown
By the time Emille was allowed access into the healer’s rooms, Alarin was already being treated by the newcomers.
She hoped that their medicine was as powerful as their technology.
Peter Corriea stood in front of her and grabbed her upper arms. He looked into her eyes. “We’ll get to see him as soon as he’s stable.”
“I want to see him now!” Emille growled. It was hard for her not to use the gift to push him away. “What are they doing to him?”
The look on Peter’s face calmed her down. She must have displayed her disdain for his touch.
He was scared of her.
“I’m sorry, Peter.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. Voluntarily touching one who wasn’t her mate or immediate family felt wrong at that moment. “Why are you scared of me?”
He looked troubled. She touched his mind, and was foiled by the myriad of unfamiliar pathways inside. She still couldn’t read the outsiders as her master could.
“When I was on Halvi studying with Alarin and Eislen there was a disaster. Merik sent her troops into Kampana, Eislen’s home village. The adepts killed everyone there, including the children,” Peter explained. “On top of that, they set it all on fire. But that wasn’t the last insult to Eislen’s village.”
She’d never heard this before. It would explain a lot regarding the actions of Alarin’s former acolyte. “What else?”
Peter frowned, she could tell his next words didn’t bring him joy. “When Captain Dayson saw what was going on, she attacked Kampana from space. The entire village was reduced to splinters and craters. Merik’s forces were decimated, but Kampana was no more.”
He sat down on a chair near the door to the healer’s area. “Eislen had nothing left. When we told him what happened, he lost control of his gift. He broke the habitat we were in, putting us all in danger. The air on Halvi isn’t breathable, it’s nitrogen-methane. Not friendly to life.”
“You are afraid I will lose control in that manner?” Emille asked. “And let our air out into the nothing?”
“I’ve seen it before.”
This was part of the problem Emille had noticed since Merik’s last moments had unified the adepts. The ungifted didn’t experience that event. They didn’t feel it or gain any lessons from it. All they had was the word of the adepts that something miraculous had happened and changed the world.
So Peter didn’t understand that she was as incapable of losing control of her gift as he was of losing control of his heartbeat.
Nor did she have the demeanor to use it unwisely, at least on purpose or in any major way.
Part of the problem with Eislen was his lack of childhood training combined with a natural above average ability with the gift. He simply didn’t have the experience to separate his gift from his emotions. He still didn’t when she last saw him.
All adepts were trained to control their abilities even in the worst moments of rage, to do otherwise would be suicide. Eislen would eventually hurt or kill
himself, and possibly others as well. Alarin, in his gentleness, failed to accept that.
“Eislen was untrained, Peter. He is one of a kind, and his lack of control is rare if not unique. If it wasn’t, our society would burn to the ground.”
He looked skeptical. “You’re saying you never lose control? I’m sorry, Emille, but I’ve seen it.”
“You speak of Merik. Don’t you think Merik reminded us of the cost of that? No other such event is in our recorded history.”
“History books don’t always reflect reality,” Peter countered. “There have been a lot of people in both of our societies losing control lately.”
Even the actions of the newcomer named Orson was not justification for wanton use of the gift. “I will grant you that it is the duty of the most powerful adepts to set the standard for those with a weaker grasp of the gift. Before it was recently destroyed by your renegade, the real value of the Temple of Jalai in Zeffult was already gone. Merik’s lack of control and the willingness of weaker adepts to follow her into madness destroyed everything of value there. After she killed the priests all that remained was a stone shell.”
“I get that you say you personally are in control—”
“Lieutenant Commander Corriea?” a man asked as he walked into the room.
“Here,” Peter answered.
The man extended his hand. “I’m Doctor Ferina, from the Fyurigan hospital. I was assigned here with a small team to look after the health of the adepts.”
“How’s Alarin, doctor?”
“He’s stable. Doing great since Dr. Jannis treated him. He’s in and out of consciousness, but he’s going to make it. We’re still trying to figure out what happened. You think there’s an Orson sympathizer on board?”
“No, doctor, I don’t,” Peter answered. “Can we see him?”
“And you are?” Doctor Ferina asked Emille, extending his hand toward her.
