by J. J. Green
“I think she looks bad too,” Sayen said. “I’m worried about her, Toirien.”
“It must be the stress of command that’s wearing her out.”
“No, I don’t think it’s that. Or at least, that isn’t all of it. Jas used to be a strong person. All that’s gone now. It’s like she’s only just holding on.”
“Well, I don’t want to add to our commander’s troubles...” Toirien looked around and took Sayen’s upper arm, pulling her into a quiet spot in the corridor outside the launch bay. “Talking of drugs, I think we may have a problem aboard this ship.”
“Seriously?”
“As I said, I used to be in that scene, and I see all the signs. There’s myth or something similar doing the rounds.”
“Myth? But it’s so expensive. How could ordinary Unity crew afford it?”
“I’ve no idea, but I swear there’s some intense dealing going on. I think one of my engineers might be an addict, but I’m not sure. I don’t want to formally accuse her. If I’m wrong, that kind of mud sticks.”
Sayen ran a hand through her hair. Myth was the scourge of the galaxy. “Have you said anything to the commander?”
“I didn’t want to burden her when I don’t have any proof.”
“Yeah, she has enough on her plate. Thanks for telling me. I’ll mention it to her if I find the right moment.”
“Okay.” Toirien scanned the interface. “Hey, there’s an empty bunk in this cabin.”
Sayen filed away Toirien’s tip about drugs aboard the ship. It was definitely not a good time to give Jas more to deal with. In an ironic kind of way, Sayen realized, it was good for Jas that the war wasn’t over. She had a suspicion that it was the only thing keeping her friend going right then.
Chapter Sixteen
Pacheco was familiar with the layout of the Thylacine, but he’d gotten lost on his way to the bridge. He suddenly noticed that he was wandering the corridors on the lower decks, which were empty and quiet.
Ever since abandoning the Camaradon, he’d felt light-headed. Everything around him seemed surreal. Images of the battle flashed constantly through his mind, making it hard for him to concentrate on his surroundings and what people said to him. They sounded like they were speaking to him through cotton wool or from a far distance.
He’d never lost a ship before.
He recalled the Camaradon’s jump into the remaining Shadow-controlled sector of the galaxy and the discovery of the gigantic Shadow ship. It sheer size had been impossible to grasp. Pacheco’s first officer had checked and rechecked the scanner readings.
A ship that large had never been built before in the history of the galaxy. Pacheco hadn’t even thought it was possible to build a ship so big.
Pacheco had barely had time to register that it was real and the scanners weren’t lying before it unleashed its onslaught. The Shadow’s terrible ray had tested the strength of the Camaradon’s force field from the very moment it struck.
Pacheco stumbled over his own feet and fell against the corridor wall. He gripped it for support, shaking his head. But he couldn’t shake the memory of the behemoth dominating the holo on the Camaradon’s bridge, or of the fearful faces of his officers when they’d realized what they were up against.
The Unity Alliance had been too confident; too sure of its intelligence. Reports had said that the Shadow flagship was in the vicinity, and the reports had been correct. But they had completely underestimated the size of the craft. It had all been a ruse to trap the Unity Alliance into committing its best ship to an unwinnable battle.
Their final, decisive blow against the Shadows had turned into a crushing defeat.
Pacheco told himself that he’d fought the best he could, but the words sounded empty in his head. His view of the Thylacine’s corridor disappeared and was replaced by the sight of the Camaradon firing pulse after pulse at the Shadow ship, and the awful ray wiping them up as if they were mere annoyances, all the while pouring its dreadful energy at the Camaradon’s force field.
In his mind, the rest of the fleet appeared after their battles once more, called to the Camaradon’s aid. But their pulses were also useless against the enemy. The Shadow ship had never seemed to even weaken. From where the ship derived its power, Pacheco couldn’t understand. He wasn’t a scientist, but he was sure that such amounts of energy were impossible to generate and expend so rapidly.
His legs shook and he dropped to his knees. He slumped against the corridor, his eyes closed, reliving the memory of the last, desperate measures before their inevitable defeat. He’d sent out the fighter ships in an all-but-doomed attempt to break through the Shadow ship’s defenses. He relived the realization that the Camaradon would never generate the energy to jump unless its force field were turned off, and that it would mean a quick, fiery death for everyone aboard.
Yet if they couldn’t jump, the Camaradon was lost.
The Camaradon was lost. Pacheco drew his hand down his face. It came away wet.
The Fleet Admiral had been the one who had given the command to abandon ship. Should it have been him? Had he insisted on fighting too long, when it was clearly hopeless? Had lives been lost needlessly because of him? He would never know. He also didn’t know if it had been his false optimism that had made him keep the Camaradon fighting, thinking that, somehow, the battle would turn in their favor, or if it had been pure arrogance and stubbornness—an unwillingness to believe that he could ever lose.
The flashing emergency lights and klaxon of the final minutes echoed in his mind. He saw the fighter pilots seeking refuge in other UA ships before they jumped. He recalled giving the order to evacuate the sick and injured first, and the horror as the Shadow ship annihilated their vessels. He relived the last desperate, hopeless rush to the evac ships, choosing probable over certain death.
His final memory was of the fleet admiral’s insistence that he leave, telling him that the UA needed him if they were to fight back. Then came the sole moment of peaceful, dreamlike wonder as the fleet admiral had knelt down, and bowed her head. It had dissolved into hundreds of pieces, which floated gently in her helmet.
Somehow, Pacheco’s recollection of that moment of gentle death steadied his racing heart and whirling mind. Even in her last moments, the fleet admiral had held onto hope. As Pacheco understood it, she had entered the reproductive cycle of her species, and piece of her could grow into a new Haidiren.
Would they survive the explosion and the cold and vacuum of deep space? Perhaps thousands or millions of years in the future landing on a watery planet and beginning to grow? Pacheco didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. The fact was, the fleet admiral had demonstrated that in the direst circumstances, hope can survive.
Pacheco blinked. He was back aboard the Thylacine. The empty corridor had come into focus around him. His hat lay upside down on the floor, having fallen off unnoticed. He picked it up and replaced it on his head before pushing himself to his feet.
With some effort, he concentrated on walking toward an elevator that led to the upper decks and the bridge. He needed to find Jas—Commander Harrington. He had to contact the ships that had survived as well as the Transgalactic Council. The Camaradon was lost, but that didn’t mean the war was over.
The elevator doors opened as he approached. He told it where he wanted to go, and it sped upward. Pacheco took the opportunity to check his appearance in the shiny steel of the walls. He straightened his hat and smoothed his uniform.
The elevator doors opened. The corridors were busy there, near the bridge. Pacheco ducked across the crowded thoroughfare and went quickly to the nerve center of the ship, where Commander Harrington was sure to be.
His arrival on the bridge caused a minor stir.
“Admiral,” Trimborn exclaimed as Pacheco entered and the bridge doors slid closed behind him.
Pacheco waited a moment while the man recovered from his apparent surprise and offered his salute. Pacheco returned it as the other officers on the deck offe
red theirs too.
Jas was standing. Despite everything that had happened in the last few hours, despite everything he’d been through, his heart still leapt at the sight of her.
She said, “Admiral, I’d like to speak with you in private if I may.”
They went out into the busy corridor, and Jas took him to a quiet area.
“Where have you been, Pacheco?” she asked. “We had a ship-wide alert going. Navigator Lee said you left the launch bay over an hour ago. Where’s your comm button?”
Pacheco looked down at the breast of his jacket. His button had been torn off in the crush aboard the evac vessel.
“I...I... needed to take some time to reflect. I didn’t know I didn’t have my comm.”
Jas tilted her head and peered at him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Commander,” he replied. She was acting like he was some kind of weakling. “Thank you for your concern.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Admiral.”
“Have you been in contact yet with the Transgalactic Council over the results of the battle?” he asked, ignoring her tone.
“Of course I have. They gave us coordinates to report at in twelve hours. We don’t have any serious casualties that need better medical care than we have aboard ship.”
Pacheco’s mind replayed the destruction of the evac ship carrying the Camaradon’s wounded.
“Pacheco?” Jas asked. “Pacheco?”
“What?” he snapped.
“I said, do you have any instructions for the Thylacine?” Jas asked. “Are you sure you’re all right? You zoned out for a moment there.”
“Commander, I was present for the destruction of the flagship of the Unity Alliance fleet. I am not all right, but I expect I shall recover soon. Is that good enough for you?”
“Krat, take it easy, Pacheco,” Jas said. “I was only trying to help. Maybe you should see the doctor.”
Her words only irritated him further. He wasn’t in need of any medication. He was stronger than that.
“And what’s more,” he said, “I want to make it clear that the fleet admiral ordered me to leave the ship.”
Jas raised her hands in a gesture of conciliation. “Pacheco, no one thinks you’re a coward. You did absolutely the right thing.”
He ground his teeth. Though her words said the opposite, it sounded like she was accusing him of running away. A part of him knew he wasn’t being reasonable, but that didn’t change how he felt. He glared at her, and her expression grew angry in return.
Why did they always end up at loggerheads like this? Pacheco wondered. He remembered the years they’d worked together aboard the Infineon, after he’d been promoted to commander to replace Torbin.
“Pacheco,” Jas barked. “You’re zoning out again.”
“I’m—”
“You’re not fine. Go and see the doctor, or I’ll have you confined because you’re unfit to serve.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“Yes, I would. Go.”
Pacheco clenched his jaw and glared, but the look in Jas’ eye told him she wasn’t going to back down. He spun around and stalked away. Krat the woman.
Chapter Seventeen
Jas went back to the bridge and ignoring the inquiring eyes that met her, flopped down into her seat. They’d lost. Just when she thought it would all be finally over, they’d lost. The prospect of the Shadow War continuing stretched out endlessly in front of her. She’d thought she could make it through to the end. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Everybody on the bridge was intent on their tasks, checking the Thylacine’s systems for damage after the battle, programming diagnostics and repairs, making sure everything was shipshape. But was there any point? How would the Unity Alliance be able to defeat that monster Shadow ship?
The Shadows must have been building it for years, Jas realized. Safe from prying eyes within their stronghold, developing new materials and weapons and biding their time while the UA slowly drew closer.
As long as the ships it was battling were its own, the UA victory had seemed achievable. No one knew those ships better than those who had built them. They’d been perfectly prepared, exploiting their advantage of knowing exactly what the commandeered Shadow ships were capable of and what their weaknesses were.
But the beings from another dimension were far from dumb. They must have realized long ago what the outcome would be if they continued on the same path. They’d understood they needed to use a different tactic, and they’d chosen the correct one.
The devastation of losing the Camaradon was only the beginning. The Shadows had seen the success of their superior technology, and they wouldn’t be slow to press on, reversing all the gains the UA had made, retaking the planets they’d lost, restarting stalled invasions.
Jas slumped forward and put her head in her hands. She wanted to fight the Shadows. She wanted her revenge for them taking away the only living man she would ever love, but she was at the end of her tether. She wished she were just an ensign again, or a security officer, so that someone else would bear the responsibilities that rested on her.
She felt so alone. Pacheco, annoying though he was at times, had been someone to rely upon, but even he seemed to have lost it.
“Commander,” said a voice.
Jas looked up. It was Kennewell.
“I was wondering when we were going to return to look for survivors,” she said in a small voice.
Krat. Jas had been planning to return to the scene of the battle to check for fighter pilots who hadn’t made it to a ship.
“What’s the time?” she asked the bridge. When someone told her, she exploded.
“Why didn’t any of you say anything before? Are you all kratting idiots? What’s wrong with you? Do I have to spell every last thing out to you people? Sayen, plot the coordinates to put us a safe distance from the scene of the battle. Can you figure that out? Kennewell, prepare to jump.”
Sayen was staring at her, open-mouthed. Jas glared, and the navigator swung around in her seat to her console. Kennewell began hastily pressing her controls. The rest of the officers on the bridge ducked their heads and focused more intently on their screens.
Jas slumped back in her seat and stared ahead, unseeing, hoping the war would end soon, one way or another. For her, it was already over.
Chapter Eighteen
Sayen’s coordinates put the Thylacine at the limit of scanner range from the scene of the battle. The limit of Unity Alliance scanner range, anyway. Sayen hoped that the Shadow ship, if it remained in the vicinity, didn’t possess superior scanners as well.
As a precaution, the first thing they did upon arrival was to throw up a maximum power force field.
“I’m not picking up anything besides residual heat from the battle, Commander,” Trimborn said, “and a lot of debris. The Camaradon blew to tiny pieces.”
Jas sighed and rubbed her eyes. “No life signs?”
Trimborn expanded something on his screen, pulling it wider with his fingertips. “Nothing at all, ma’am.”
“Take us in, Pilot,” Jas said. “Slowly.”
Jas looked awful. Sayen could now see what Toirien had meant when she’d said that her friend looked like she was on something. It wasn’t only that Jas had lost weight, she looked unhealthy and weak. In all the time Sayen had known her, no matter how hard things had been, or even when people close to them had died, Jas had never looked as bad as she did right then. She looked like she’d given up on life.
She didn’t seem to be despairing; it was more that there was an entire absence of emotion in her eyes. And what was worse, Sayen didn’t know what she could do to help her old friend.
“Picking up a ship,” Trimborn blurted. “It’s just jumped in, ma’am.”
Sayen’s heart seized up. Had the Shadow ship returned to trap them?
“Ma’am, it’s the Vespira. She’s hailing us,” the comm officer said.
“Thank krat for that,” said Trimborn, just loud
enough for Sayen to hear.
Jas had a short conversation with the captain of the Vespira. They agreed to divide the battle area into quadrants and search independently for any signs of life among the debris. It would reduce the time spent searching and also the time any survivors had to wait to be picked up. The battle had been fought far from any star systems, so at least there were no planets to search.
The mood on the bridge was somber as the Thylacine undertook its slow, sweeping scans of the scene of the battle. The embedded chips everyone wore didn’t emit a signal a significant distance in deep space terms because their energy came from the wearer’s metabolism. That meant that the chips stopped emitting a day or so after the wearer died. This had seemed cruel to Sayen when she first learned of it, but she later understood that recovering the bodies of dead crew only to then give them a space burial was seen as frivolous by the Unity.
“I can see one,” Trimborn exclaimed.
“You mean you’ve picked up a signal?” Jas asked tiredly.
“Yes, we’ve got a live one. It’s a fighter pilot. Sending coordinates, Kennewell.”
The pilot eased the Thylacine closer to the stranded fighter ship, which was floating without power.
Sayen knew the procedure from rescue operations she’d taken part in previously. Another fighter would be sent out to either connect to the disabled vessel, or, if that wasn’t possible, to grapple it into the launch bay. Then it was just a matter of retrieving the wounded pilot, hopefully without having to cut him or her from the wreckage.
Sayen turned to read Jas’ expression. She hadn’t entirely given up on finding Carl one day, but it looked as though Jas had. Her face was blank as she looked down at the interface screen on her armrest.
