“And under what charge did you lock my family up?”
Sam just glared at him.
“There’s no charge, is there?” Rick nodded slightly. “Whoever has the power makes the rules and, in this little corner of the galaxy, that means you, doesn’t it, Sam?”
Still no answer but the angry glare was losing its certainty in the face of Rick’s calm defiance.
“Welcome back to the Alliance, Mr. Fletcher.” Rick smiled, then raised his voice. “Master at arms!”
“Sir?” Norm Fletcher had answered out of habit and looked mildly disconcerted at having referred to a Heywood as sir.
“You will release your prisoners and conduct them here immediately.”
“Now wait just a minute…” Norm furrowed his brow at Rick before plodding on. “Who are you to come back here giving orders?”
“Who am I?” Rick reached over his shoulder to pull his axe free. He hefted it, examining the decorative pattern meditatively. “I am Rick Carrolson, Husband to Freya Augustdottir and brother to Thorstein Gunnarson.” He looked up to Norm.
“And I’m the Midgaard warrior who’ll place your head in your own hands if you don’t obey my orders immediately. This may be an Alliance world now but it’s under Midgaard law and we…” he gestured to Freya, “rule this world.”
“What he’s telling you,” Ivar called out from the middle of the crowd, “is that you can disobey him but only if you’re willing to put him down in a fair fight.”
The crowd parted, revealing the small group of Midgaard who’d spent the last century and a half on 3428. Ivar led them forward, grinning at the young Human who’d spent so much time among them.
“Welcome home, Rick Carrolson,” he boomed. “I see you’ve done well for yourself!”
“Ivar!” Rick suddenly felt a sense of home. The Midgaard of 3428 had first-hand memory of the mutiny and of Alexander Heywood’s true role. They didn’t waste their breath trying to stem the flood of ignorance but they were among the few residents who treated the Heywoods with respect. “I bet you’re eager to get off this rock?”
“You won’t find very long odds for a bet like that,” Ivar replied cheerfully. He looked to where Norm was still standing. “I wasn’t joking, Norm. As half the ruling couple of this world, Rick is perfectly justified in shortening you by eight inches…”
“Ruling couple?” The deep voice was weaker than it should have been.
Rick spun to the left, looking for the source of the voice. Barry and Rick’s older brother, Hal, were supporting the elder Heywood as he approached. His sister Karen followed close behind.
Carrol Heywood looked ten years older than the last time Rick had seen him but the old man waved dismissively. “Don’t give me that look,” he insisted. “What does Ivar the Flatulent mean by ruling couple?”
That was Carrol Heywood – never mind the physical restrictions; stick to what’s important. Rick still remembered retching at the sight of his father’s severed finger on the deck of the fusion room while the elder Heywood calmly insisted that he shunt the main power and get a bandage, in that specific order.
“Well, I should start by introducing your new daughter-in-law.” Rick gestured to Freya. “This is Freya Augustdottir.”
Carrol looked at Freya. “Daughter-in-law? Young lady, is this true?”
“It is, Goodfather,” Freya offered him an uncertain smile and a respectful nod.
The old man brightened considerably. “All this time, I thought my son was hiding in the jungle. I waited in dread, fearing the announcement that he’d been captured and hanged.” He straightened up, shook Barry and Hal loose with a nod of thanks and approached Freya.
He took her hands. “And now I learn he’s been offworld this whole time and he certainly hasn’t been idle! You are very welcome to our family, Freya Augustdottir!”
Rick watched in amazement as the father he thought he already knew greeted the newest member of the family. Freya was subjected to a steady stream of compliments and humorous nonsense and, to Rick’s surprise, she seemed to love every second of it.
He knew family relationships were considered a tool of Midgaard statecraft but it was strange to see his wife and father carry on like this in front of everyone. This was part of the reason she’d married him. She didn’t just come here as a conqueror – she had family here and she was making sure everyone knew it.
Barry sidled over. “They had him on half rations,” he told Rick. “Probably trying to force him into handing over the family secrets. I doubt he would have cracked but it sounds like Hal and Karen were on the edge. I would too, if they were starving my dad…”
A young ordinance tech brought a short bench and Freya joined Carrol on it, their conversation not skipping a beat. At this point, Rick was starting to think his father had actually talked more with Freya than he had.
“Thanks for looking out for him.”
Barry shrugged. “I snuck him a few morsels, made sure he didn’t get roughed up. Nothing you wouldn’t have done in my place.”
“He could have died,” Rick insisted, “so you saved your uncle Sam as well as my dad.”
A nod. “What will you do with Sam?”
“We’d planned on leaving him in charge, but…” He gestured at his weakened father. “Locking my family up without just cause? I never thought he’d go that far.”
“You gonna throw him in the clink?”
Rick sighed. “I’d love to but I’d be no better than him if I give that order. I’m not going to lock him up for locking my family up. He’s just the poor dumb idiot left standing when the music ended.”
“Maybe,” Barry answered noncommittally, “but enough about him. How the hell did you end up married to a high-born Midgaard shieldmaiden?” He grinned. “Blackmail? Maybe you kidnapped her father?”
“Think you’re funny, huh?” Rick’s expression went blank. “Well, it’s going to cost you.”
“Huh?”
“Sam’s gonna get busted to ordinary crewman, which works out, seeing as he’s living in flag quarters, rather than the captain’s cabin. We need somewhere to stay, when we’re on the surface…”
“So, how’s that gonna impact me?”
“You were always pegged as his next-in-line. He even put you and Tess in the captain’s quarters…”
Barry squinted at his friend. “You’re gonna be the captain, though, right?”
“I’m a grease monkey, not a bridge officer.” Rick waved off the idea. “And besides, I’m going to be too busy to fiddle around with running the ship…”
“Now, hold on just a damned second…”
The crowd murmured in shock.
“Captain Sam Fletcher,” Rick cut Barry off, “you are relieved of duty. Please consult with the purser’s office about obtaining new quarters.” He ignored the crowd but he did catch the nod of approval from his bride before he turned to face Barry.
“Barry Fletcher, by the authority vested in me by the Alliance, I declare you captain of the Guadalcanal.” He had no idea what sort of ceremony should have accompanied the transition but he didn’t much care. He needed a new captain and it had to be someone the residents of 3428 would accept.
If he attempted to take the command for himself, too many of the Humans would have found ways to sabotage him. Old habits died hard and it would take time for these people to lose their mistrust of the Heywoods.
Barry was acceptable to the ship’s denizens and, more importantly, he was acceptable to Rick. With that out of the way he could turn his attention to…
“Stand by, Freya, linking to Rick now.” Even though Rick saw the call coming, Captain Flemming’s voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to his new implant.
He was intrigued by the quantum tunneling technology that carried the signal but hearing voices in your head was always cause for concern.
“Rick, you there?” Flemming, the Alliance’s leading intelligence officer, had given up
on voice procedure decades ago. He preferred a more personal approach with his agents, knowing they were far from home and surrounded by the enemy.
Even forces on irregular operations, like the team seizing 3428, were contacted in his trademark casual style. Freya had helped him several times, inserting or retrieving agents with her stealthy little scout ship and they were familiar with each other.
“I’m here, Captain.” Rick replied, shaking his head and holding up a palm to let Barry know he wasn’t talking to him. He would need a lot more practice before he would be able to sub-vocalize effectively. For now, everyone nearby would be able to hear what he was saying.
“Chaco Benthic just went critical,” Flemming advised them. “It happened just after you left.”
“So you need a pick-up, Lanc?” Freya asked.
“Bit of a sticky wicket, I’m afraid.” Flemming paused. “It seems we have a small party of Oudtstoners waiting at the top of the tether and it’s the only way out of the city, as I’m sure you’ll recall.”
“I do,” Rick replied. “You’d like your man brought out, all the same?”
“Well, I would but I haven’t been able to raise him since he called for support.”
“Wait!” Rick looked over to Freya. “Support?”
“That sounds very different from extraction,” Freya pointed out.
Flemming sighed. “I’m afraid our man on the scene has gone native on us. He thinks we should just keep the place for ourselves.”
“It would make a good staging area for patrols,” Freya mused, “but we don’t have a very large force with us.” She suddenly stood. “Those mercenaries we told you about – did they show up?”
“Haven’t heard of them but our man might have someone on the station so…”
She looked at Rick, eyes shining. “If any of those ships made it, we can seize one as part of the mission!”
Rick was planning to surprise his bride anyway and this seemed a perfect moment. She was hoping to take a ship, making them haulds, but 3428 was only held by them in Shelby’s name. They still needed a fief to support their ships.
The eight volunteer captains would continue to serve them if they achieved that coveted status – it was implied in the oaths they’d given on Veithfar. They would become councillors, the first step on the way to making their own names in time.
But first they needed a tenth ship. Freya, herself, was the ninth captain. They only needed one more.
And they had just seized 3428 and everything on it.
He grinned. “If we take ten ships to Benthic, we can keep the world for ourselves!”
“This thing?” Freya had the presence of mind to sub-vocalize her disbelief.
“My ancestor was less than forthcoming with the mutineers when he agreed to scuttle the distortion drives.” He looked at Barry. “Captain, put the crew on full combat watches immediately, if you please.”
Barry’s mouth hung open for several seconds. “Rick…”
“Trust me, Barry.” Rick gave him a confident grin. “Sandy Heywood didn’t like the idea of burning our bridges, so he kept the distortion drive intact. He just made it look like a pile of junk to keep the rest of the crew happy.”
“But the hull, the shielding…”
“Don’t worry about that; just get everybody to their stations.”
“Rick,” Flemming cut in, “Do you really think you can get her back into the black? Even if she jumps, she’ll have a very green crew.”
The residents of the lost ship had held on to their military traditions, keeping their training up over the generations. There was no shortage of crew with the technical knowledge. He was counting on their pre-cognitive abilities to help make up for their lack in actual experience.
“Green,” he admitted, “but they can see what’s coming before it happens. Just the ship’s presence alone will scare any enemy we encounter.”
“Not a discussion, Lanc.” Freya’s tone brooked no argument. She worked with Flemming, not for him. “You know what this means.”
“As you wish, my dear,” he conceded. “Stop ten minutes out and check in? I might hear something in the meantime.”
“Will do.”
“Hal,” Rick moved over to his brother standing next to Carrol’s bench. He saw a glint running down his father’s face and had to fight to keep his voice steady. “Let’s get to the engine room. The crew of the Guadalcanal is going to redeem themselves.”
Breathing Room
Tsekoh, Capital of Chaco Benthic
A maintenance worker was waiting at the head of a small group as Cal and Korlaith approached. “Nothing since they closed the doors.” He waved at the massive titanium portal separating the company offices from the rest of the city.
“And that’s the only part of the city that’s still getting air?” Cal came to a halt in front of the Krorian maintenance tech.
A nod. “The shunts run from the atmo cyclers down on the bottom levels to all parts of the city. They shrink as they branch off but…” He pointed at the doors. “That area has its own dedicated shunt. They designed this city so they could hide in there and just kill us all.”
“Bet they don’t mention that in their recruitment package,” Cal said dryly. “Still, it’s a big city – how long will it take for us to run out of air?”
“A day.”
“Tell me you’re poking a rib…”
The Krorian shook his head. “Sorry, C’Al. I wish I was but there’s no way around the math. This is my specialty, after all.” He gestured out to the atrium. “Two Billion square cubits of volume, minus structures and people leaves us with one point four Billion square cubits of air. Twenty-three Million actual inhabitants using up twelve and a half Million square cubits per centiday means we have roughly a day and a tenth before folks start falling down.”
“Dung eating clones!” Cal swore. “Can we stop it from up here?”
A shrug. “We could blast the shunt dampers clean off and get the air moving again but those are more than four hundred levels down from here and all transit is being blanked.”
It was another security feature of Tsekoh. Mag generators were mounted throughout the city, allowing security forces to nullify the field generated by any vehicle by cancelling out the waves produced by their on-board generators.
In this case, it meant they couldn’t simply seize a vehicle and fly down to the atmospheric plant.
“And the magisters are waiting to fire on anyone who ignores the curfew,” Cal added, “so rappelling down the atrium is a death sentence.”
“There are ladders in the shunts themselves,” the Krorian offered, “but four hundred floors in one day?” He shook his head. “It’s tight in places and you have to wait on the baffle cycles at the intersections. Even though the dampers are shut, the baffles will still think they’re cycling the air supply to different zones.”
“How long does a baffle stay closed?”
“Standard cycle is a centiday, so a hundred uncooperative baffles would use up all our time. There’s ten per level on each shunt, so I can expect to wait for forty of them on the way down.”
Cal resisted the urge to curse. “Where’s the dedicated shunt for the offices?’
The maintenance worker pulled out his job wand and pulled the two halves apart, deploying a holoscreen between the two sections. He aimed it at the floor and started walking across the small square in front of the large doors.
“Right here.” He waited until Cal joined him. The conduit was clearly visible as a cavity embedded in the floor.
Cal waved him back and pulled out six prospecting charges. He dropped them in a roughly square pattern and moved over to where the Krorian stood. Using his tablet, he detonated the charges, the blast quickly overtaken by the sudden force of the released air.
Dust and small pieces of concrete blew up to the ceiling and rebounded in all directions.
“No chance I can go down that shaft,” the Krorian shouted from behind his shielding
hands. “Even if you got me in there, the flow would fire me up the shaft and into the offices.”
Cal nodded. “You have charges?”
“No.”
He gave the Krorian his satchel. “Better get moving. Take somebody with you as a backup.” He nodded at the opening in the floor. “That won’t buy the city much time but maybe we can shove something down there to divert more of the air from the offices. Might convince the little clones to reconsider.”
When he returned to the tether station, a Tauhentan rushed over.
“C’Al, we just heard from our man in orbital control,” he advised quietly. “A small fleet has just arrived and they’re about to start landing mercenaries.”
“Mercenaries?” Cal grinned. “You realize what that means?”
A nod. “The Republic either doesn’t care about this world or they don’t even know about it.”
“So, if we manage to take the place,” Cal added, “we don’t have to worry about a Republic legion landing on our doorstep to take it back.”
“But there’s still the mercs up in orbit…”
“We have an old saying where I come from. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“But, C’Al, we’re both Tauhentan and I’ve never heard such foolishness.” He scratched the back of his head. “Sounds a little short-sighted, if you ask me. We need friends who have more in common than who our enemies are…”
“Never mind whether you’ve heard it.” Cal was surprised at how careless he was getting but he really didn’t plan on keeping up the cover story for much longer. “What if I told you we could convince the Midgaard to come here and serve as our warlords?”
“Break away from the Republic entirely?”
“I suppose you could put it that way,” Cal raised an eyebrow, “but I’d describe it as joining the Alliance.” He leaned in a little closer. “And what world was one of the first to join?”
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