Sfyri tried to angle the crashing ship closer to the strip of green, but the aft steering thrusters were still non-operational. Frustrated, the AI dropped the port side engines to half power, attempting to fly the freighter manually to the correct spot. However, instead of dropping to the planned power output, half the engines on the port side cut off completely.
This wasn’t quite what Sfyri had in mind, but it yielded roughly the same results. However, it would still put them well short of the green strip of land and closer to the solid ice near the tundra, the AI realized. With no other options in sight, Sfyri decided this was as good a location as any to risk their controlled crash. Powering the thrusters as much as the AI could risk, the ship landed hard on an icy slope at the top of a glacier.
Precariously balanced for a moment, the ship began to tilt as the ice melted from the heat of the ship’s hull. Streams of melted glacial water started to run down the slope, though much of it refroze before the water made it to the bottom. However, the ice freezing to the hull caused the metal to stress and become brittle as it contracted in the severe cold. It didn’t shatter, however, merely reformed itself with odd lumps about the surface as the ice corrupted the internal integrity of the junonium-reinforced metal. Sfyri was pleased she had prevented the destruction of the ship and managed to keep Aurelia alive. The Wraiths’ survival was an added bonus for the artificial intelligence.
“Ugh,” Aurelia groaned as she began to stir. “Not cool, Sfyri.”
“My apologies.” The AI truly sounded contrite. “I was uncertain whether the ship would crash and roll. If you are limber and unconscious, studies have shown you are three times likelier to survive the accident. I did not want you to suffer unnecessary injuries, so I put you into a light sleep.”
“Oh.”
“You snore, for the record.”
“Is…is that a joke?”
“No, it is not,” Sfyri answered. “You snore. Loudly, at that.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
“Aurelia?” Collyn called from the opposite end of the cargo hold. The woman had been tossed about like a rag doll during the landing, but had somehow come out of it no worse for wear. The tan-colored Wraith suit was easily seen in Aurelia’s HUD. “Oh, thank God you’re alive.”
“Yeah,” Aurelia stated. “I hurt a little, though.”
“I feel like I just went through a washing machine,” Collyn told her. “Your vitals read okay. Let’s get you out of that netting.”
“Collyn,” Aurelia said carefully as the Wraith began to unstrap her from the bulkhead. Somehow she’d become entangled in the webbing during the crash. “Where are we?”
“No idea,” Collyn admitted as she released the last of the crash netting, and Aurelia was able to slip to the floor. The young girl looked around and tried to figure out what was broken and what wasn’t. The suit helped some, but even Sfyri seemed to be at a loss due to the carnage caused by their rough landing. “It’s a planet in the habitable zone of the local star.”
“Huh?” Aurelia asked, confused.
“There’s something called the ‘Goldilocks Zone’ when discovering new solar systems,” Collyn began as she moved forward to the pilot area. After a few moments, she returned with the ship’s captain in her arms. Gingerly, she laid him down on the deck and checked him for any sign of injury. She continued to speak as she wiped some of the blood off the unconscious captain’s head. “Your AI sent me all the info a moment ago. It’s a very interesting planet, with the ice and all. Crappy winters, I bet. Anyway, the Goldilocks Zone. They call it that because of an old fable from Earth’s history about a little girl eating three bears. The first bear was cooked too hot, the second one too cold, but the third bear was cooked to perfection. When we’re looking for new planets to settle, if it’s too hot, we burn up. Too cold, and we freeze. Because of this, we look for planets that are just right. Fortunately, the aliens who created the jump gates did all the hard work when it comes to finding the worlds. We just need to jump through the right gate numbers to find them. This planet, since it has a narrow habitable area near the equator, can sustain human life. Outside that four-hundred-kilometer strip of land, however, the rest of the planet sucks. And most of the habitable area is ocean, because it’s the only place it’s warm enough for the ice to thaw. Still, there’s some land there, as well as some forest. Not sure what else. My guess is we’re in an ice age.”
“Since we found it, does that mean we get to name it?” Aurelia asked as she mulled over the information Collyn had given her. She switched to an internal comm. “Sfyri, why didn’t you tell me?”
The Wraith shrugged. “Sure, kid. Want to name a planet?” The AI remained silent.
“Yeah!” Aurelia said excitedly. She thought for a moment, muttering under her breath. “Icepick? No, that’s bad. Icebox? Not getting better. Iceworld? Ugh, no.”
“Name it after something that matters to you,” Collyn called out as she continued to tend to the captain’s wounds. Behind her, the other Wraiths slowly began to stir and extricate themselves from the crash netting one at a time.
Aurelia suddenly gasped. It was as if a light had gone on above her head. “I got it!”
“Well?”
“Since all the Wraiths who came with us have been calling themselves Shiva Squad, we should call the planet Shiva!”
“That’s…not bad,” Collyn admitted as she turned her head to look at Aurelia. “Congratulations. You’ve discovered a new world called Shiva. Let it be recorded in our memory banks for future use throughout the Dominion of Man.”
“Shiva,” Aurelia whispered before nodding. It was a pretty good name, particularly when compared to Icebox.
* * * * *
Chapter Eleven
Andrew
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Senator,” a voice said to Andrew as he began to wake from his medically-induced nap. “You slept for twelve hours and, as much as you apparently needed your sleep, we have some questions that need answers.”
“Five more minutes?” Andrew asked groggily, his eyes fluttering open slowly. He felt crust in the corner of his eye and reached up to wipe it away. As his hand brushed his face, it suddenly dawned on him that he wasn’t in restraints. He woke up fully at this revelation. “What’s going on? Where am I?”
“You’re on the CAS Iroquois,” a woman with long, honey-colored hair stated. She looked at him and offered a small smile. “Captain Ezell wanted someone to be here when you woke up, so I got the task. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrew murmured and looked around the room. It was a small stateroom, obviously belonging to an officer of some sort. There were a few commendations adhered to the bulkhead on his right, all of which seemed to honor one Lieutenant Commander Joy Wandrey for various accolades. He looked back at the woman in the room. “Commander?”
“Nice to meet you, Senator, though I wish it was under better circumstances,” she said as she offered him her hand. “Sickbay is a little crowded right now, as they’re trying to keep Uriah stable and treat Jack, and since you were only sleeping, the captain asked me to keep you in here and watch you until you woke up.”
“Yeah, again, sorry about that,” Andrew apologized a second time. The commander tsked and shook her head.
“This counts as a duty shift, and since the rules state any shift in a non-combat situation going over ten hours earns a twenty-four-hour rest period before the next shift, I’m perfectly okay with babysitting a Dominion senator for an entire shift.” She chuckled. “Besides, Lieutenant Osborne can handle Tactical for a while. It’ll be good practice for him. Builds character.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Here, let’s get you out of that rack and somewhat presentable,” LCDR Wandrey said as she offered a hand. Andrew gratefully accepted and found the officer to be surprisingly strong in spite of appearances. He made a mental note not to underestimate this woman.
“You’re going to want to
burn your bedding,” Andrew said as he felt his clothes sticking to his body. “I’ve been wearing this outfit for almost two standard weeks.”
“I was going to do that anyway before you said anything,” the commander said with a chuckle. “I don’t like it when other people are in my bed. Call it one of my few pet peeves.”
“Then why…?”
“Because the captain asked,” she answered before he could finish.
Unfamiliar with the rules of loyalty within the rebel faction, Andrew decided to change his approach, lest he accidentally insult the officer and risk a duel, or something worse.
“What does CAS stand for?” he asked her, thinking back to what she’d called the ship.
“Constitutional Alliance Ship,” she stated. “Like DV stands for Dominion Vessel.”
“Constitutional Alliance?”
“Well, it sounds better than ‘Rebels of Maelstrom,’” she offered with a slight shrug. Half-turning, she grabbed a towel off the counter to her left and a pair of dark blue coveralls, underwear, socks, and a plain white shirt. “Shower, change, and knock on the compartment hatch here when you’re done so I can collect you.”
“Shower is…?” Andrew looked around helplessly. In all his years as a DIB officer, a Jericho agent, and the hundreds of covers he’d used, not once had he actually seen the personal quarters of an officer in the Dominion Navy. Nor had he thought he’d ever set foot on board a rebel ship without handcuffs. It was strange.
LCDR Wandrey walked over to the bulkhead directly next to the bunk and touched a control device. She typed in a command, and a small portion of the wall slid open, revealing a tiny shower stall with a spray nozzle. Turning, she handed him the replacement clothing.
“I know those are your personal property, but if you wouldn’t mind tossing your ruined clothes in a burn bag,” she instructed, her voice apologetic. “They really do stink. The shower head is pressure sensitive, so keep touching it to allow water to flow. If you hold it by the neck only, you won’t get any water. You can adjust the temperature using the center dial. Center is warm, left hot, right cold. Just twist.”
“Seems easy enough,” Andrew said.
LCDR Wandrey turned and started to leave. “Remember, knock when you’re done,” she said as she exited the room.
Andrew watched the hatch close before he began to undress. His clothes were ruined. His first clue was that he had to practically peel them off his skin to get them off. Removing his underwear actually hurt, and the ripe smell that hit his nose made him want to gag and die. Embarrassed, he found the burn bag the lieutenant commander had told him about and disposed of all his dirty clothing. This included his socks, which looked as though they could walk by themselves. His shoes would be salvageable, with some baking soda liberally sprinkled inside to help rid them of the stench. He made a mental note to see if the rebels had some.
The shower turned out to be a little trickier than LCDR Wandrey had made it out to be, but that was mostly due to his ineptitude at using pressure controls. Andrew quickly learned the harder he squeezed the shower head, the harder the water pressure was. Since he was Sutillian and much stronger than average, it quickly became apparent that, unless he wanted to strip away more than three layers of skin, he’d have to use caution in the shower.
The hot/cold controls were basic enough, and Andrew found that the shower head was movable, which allowed him to ensure every inch of his filthy body was cleansed. He found a small bottle of soap on a shelf and gave it a sniff before pouring the whole thing over himself. Since it hadn’t been opened beforehand and wasn’t with the other personal hygiene stuff on the larger shelf above it, he felt it was safe to assume it had been placed in there for him. If not, he’d buy her a replacement as soon as he could access the Hastings account.
Alone in the shower and feeling relatively safe for the first time in recent memory, Andrew began to take stock of what he knew. It was obvious the rebels—Alliance, he mentally corrected—weren’t going away, despite their loss at the Battle of Gran Via. Their ships were being built faster than the Dominion’s, which wasn’t a good thing. The Alliance citizens seemed to share a common goal, one he wasn’t quite sure of yet. There was a lot about the Alliance he didn’t know.
Rinsing off, Andrew wondered why he wasn’t in cuffs. Darius Hastings, as a prisoner, was a prize catch, one that could be used to force the Dominion to pay handsomely for his return. Or worse, they could execute him as an example of what was to come. No, that threat would galvanize the Dominion and cause the twins to put aside their little war to face the external threat, he reasoned as he turned the water off and reached out to grab a towel. Possibly why the Abassi haven’t really been doing much the past year. Drying off in the stall, he allowed his mind to explore different options.
It was plain to see they wanted him for something, though he was still at a loss as to what that was. His vote was unimportant, since it was clear that, even if he did cede to the will and wishes of Laird McCarroll, he was still a dead man. Perhaps the Alliance is backing Edward? No, he thought as he dried his hair. That made about as much sense as the idea of the Alliance working with the Caliphate. As hard as the rebels had fought for their freedom, he doubted they’d be any more comfortable under the rule of the Caliphate than the Dominion. Supporting Edward simply put them in the same position they’d been in when they’d first broken away from the Dominion.
If they were looking for intelligence on the Dominion, they’d be better served to pick up someone who actually knew what was going on. It was common knowledge that Darius Hastings had been on the run for a long time, and the political machinations within Parliament had ground on without him. Any news agency knew more than he did at this point. It was clear to him they hadn’t been searching for him, nor did they really need him for inside knowledge of Parliament.
“Maybe they’re just nice?” Andrew whispered to himself before he laughed. No political entity was nice for the sake of it. The safety and needs of a nation always came before niceties. Years of experience had taught him that.
Dressed and feeling respectable for the first time in weeks, he tapped on the hatch. It swung open, and he saw LCDR Wandrey, as well as an enlisted man standing behind her. This man was far larger than Andrew and had an aura of menace about him that would have been worrisome, had the brute not been grinning hugely. It took him a moment to recognize Jack’s face without the tactical helmet. He’d also trimmed his beard, so he no longer resembled an ancient Viking berserker, which had made initial identification a little difficult.
“The master-at-arms wanted an escort for you, besides the commander here,” Jack said and jabbed a thumb at LCDR Wandrey. “I volunteered, since I’m on light duty for the next week, thanks to you.”
“I’m sorry!” Andrew threw his hands in the air in exasperation.
“Chief, if you don’t mind…” LCDR Wandrey gave the big man a withering look. It bounced right off the affable giant.
“Chief?” Andrew asked, surprised.
“Chief Petty Officer Jack Clemons, SEAL Team One,” Jack replied. “Before the Caliphate took over, they had some good ideas on Earth. The idea of a special operations unit that could do anything was appealing. When our founders created the Alliance, they decided to follow some of the old ways. We tried to copy the Wraiths, but our suits are more for armored warfare.”
“Smart. I’ve seen what happens when Wraiths go off the rails,” Andrew noted. He glanced back at LCDR Wandrey. “Whenever’s convenient for you, I think I’m ready to meet the captain.”
“She’s more than ready to meet you,” she replied. Wandrey, in spite of her short stature, looked fierce and was more intimidating than Jack. However, it wasn’t anger which fueled her, Andrew realized. It was loyalty and respect. There was something afoot, and until he got to the bottom of it, it would nag at his subconscious. She motioned curtly. “Follow me, please.”
With Jack at his side, Andrew followed the officer as they moved from
“officer country” to a smaller briefing room next to the bridge. Recognizing it as a ready room, Andrew felt a little better about his lack of military knowledge. His father had mentioned this to him when he’d spoken to all the Espinoza children about the Navy.
Unlike his father’s description of similar rooms on a Dominion Navy vessel, the Iroquois’ ready room was far more technologically advanced, with wall-mounted sensor displays streaming up-to-date information from all departments. Most of these had been covered to maintain secrecy, but a few had been left open deliberately. Without making himself too obvious, Andrew studied a galactic map of the Dominion and saw, according to the ship’s sensors, they weren’t headed back to Maelstrom, but elsewhere. What that destination was, Andrew couldn’t ascertain. The ship had to go through the gate at Avalon, then Trono del Terra, before they could make the final gate jump to Maelstrom. This map, Andrew saw, wasn’t of any gate he was familiar with. A chill ran down his spine. Had the Alliance discovered a new world via a gate? Or even a new gate the Dominion didn’t know about? Either possibility was both unnerving and thrilling.
“Have a seat,” LCDR Wandrey said as she pulled a chair out from beneath the large oval table that dominated the center of the room. Andrew accepted the proffered chair and sat down. The commander turned and walked around to the end of the table, where Jack had stationed himself. As she pressed her fingers against a small console embedded in the table, she looked at the giant. “Chief?”
“If it’s ok with you, Commander, I’d rather remain standing,” Jack told her in a respectful tone. He shot a look at Andrew. “It’s still uncomfortable for me to sit, ma’am.”
“Suit yourself, Chief.” She shrugged and called the captain.
Homeguard Page 22
