by Sean Danker
Bjorn could see Ibuki watching Compton. The younger pilot probably wished he could offer some support, but that was out of the question.
Rebecca DiJeur was there, though. Her gloved fingers squeezed the major’s shoulder gently.
Rada, looking shaken, made her way to Bjorn. “You were there?” she asked. She must have listened to the proceedings over the com.
He nodded. “She saved him,” he told her.
“I know.”
DiJeur appeared at Bjorn’s side, startling him. “I have to talk to you,” she whispered. It had to be important for her to have torn herself away from Major Compton.
“What do you need?” Bjorn asked, letting her pull him away. Rada was giving him a funny look.
“It’s Lieutenant Kladinova,” DiJeur said, and Bjorn watched her body language. DiJeur wasn’t suited to this assignment. Everyone knew; there was no need to talk about it, because discussion wouldn’t change anything. This behavior wasn’t a surprise after what had happened, but Bjorn remembered she’d been this way before the battle. Something was wrong.
“She did well out there,” he said.
“I know.” DiJeur stared up at him. Bjorn didn’t understand. “She made me do it,” she said, sounding almost pleading.
“Do what?” But even as he was asking the question, Bjorn could picture Kladinova’s face on his feed. Her shining eyes and the feverish energy behind them.
Harbinger. Kladinova wasn’t taking no for an answer. She’d bullied Rebecca DiJeur into getting her what she wanted. She didn’t need Bjorn; any handler had the clearance. Only active pilots were locked out of the chem base.
“Empress have mercy,” he said. DiJeur was still staring up at his face.
“What do we do? Do we tell the commander?” she pressed.
“I’ll take it from here,” Bjorn said. “You did the right thing telling me. It’s on me now.”
She nodded and returned to Major Compton.
Commander Mao entered the bay, her face calm, posture relaxed. A moment later Kladinova came through the other hatch, looking much more composed.
“Form up,” Mao repeated, and Bjorn fell into line with the others. “Be comfortable,” she added. “I know when you’re in the cockpit, or even in a support role, you don’t have the same perspective that we have on the bridge. I want everyone to know where we stand. We did lose Major Lucas.” Mao didn’t even pause. “He used his fighter to stall a projectile targeting one of the refugee ships, but he had to give up his shield to do it. While he was vulnerable, Tenbrook took him. He originally planned to use the refugees as leverage against us, but when the Sunbath jumped out, that only left Lucas. So I terminated him for obvious reasons.”
The crew had more or less kept its bearing so far. Now there was a noticeable ripple.
“I never thought that was something I would have to do,” she admitted after a moment, clasping her hands behind her back and staring at the floor. “But this assignment’s just full of surprises. With Cophony’s intel on his side, Tenbrook’s able to counter our tactics, at least somewhat. There’s also the matter of his battle station, which is more or less invincible.”
She looked at Major Compton.
“After this brief you’re in the simulator,” she said. “All other secondaries are going to work together to get Auxiliary One ready to take Unit One’s place. We can’t sacrifice any measure of readiness, especially now. Tenbrook does not have the upper hand,” Mao added, giving them a hard look. “The kill count just now was almost thirty ships. That’s on par with some of the largest battles of this war. And we traded one man and one fighter for it. I’m not happy about that. I’d have liked to take them for free. But today we proved that the Everwing system works, even handicapped. That was the same level of performance that I’d have expected against pirates that didn’t know what they were up against, largely because of Lieutenant Kladinova’s outstanding flying.”
She paused, sighing. “I’m not trying to gloss over Major Lucas. The Margarita was destroyed despite his efforts. That doesn’t make his sacrifice any less heroic or meaningful. I can’t give you time, and I certainly can’t give you comfort. Tenbrook might not have the upper hand, but neither do we.”
“Ma’am, did the other ship get away clean?” Captain Woodhouse asked.
“As far as I know,” Mao confirmed, nodding. “And Doyle sent us an encrypted message with his coordinates. That was a call for help. He knows Tenbrook will come for him, and he wants us to find him and protect him.” She hesitated. “And the answer is yes. We will.”
Compton’s eyes narrowed. Woodhouse swallowed. Kladinova looked pleased, and Sergeant Golding let out her breath.
The commander went on. “We’re doing it because it’s the best way for us to complete our mission. Tenbrook was bluffing. He knows he can’t hunt us. He’s not going to waste resources without a reason. Our role is to keep him and his fleet busy, and that’s what we’re going to do. It also happens to be the right thing to do. I know that not all of your hearts bleed for galactics who would abandon their home in a time of war, but if it was all reversed, you wouldn’t want the Ganraen navy to leave imperial civilians to die, so we’re going to lead by example. That’s it. Get to work.”
She was already striding toward the hatch.
Bjorn just stood there and watched the others break off. His head felt crowded.
DiJeur met his eyes as she passed, and he turned to watch her leave the bay. She made a point of not looking at Kladinova, who was making for the other hatch. Bjorn set his jaw and followed her.
They crossed the spine, and the only other person in Blue Bay was Major Morel. The big man was heading for Unit Four.
He was far enough out of earshot, but Bjorn didn’t even know what to say. He just reached out and stopped Kladinova. She turned back, and her face told him that she’d expected DiJeur to talk.
She dropped her gaze. “Not here.”
Bjorn took her to his quarters. Morel was busy; this was the most privacy they could get. There was no time for this conversation. Bjorn needed to get Kladinova’s fighter ready to sortie, and his help would probably be needed configuring the new Unit One.
But this had to come first.
“You saw what I did,” Kladinova said, looking into his eyes. She didn’t mean stealing Harbinger; she meant her performance in the battle. She’d had more than twice as many kills as General Dayal. Bjorn had been preoccupied with the starscape as it had been happening, but he knew that her performance out there couldn’t be completely attributed to her natural genius.
She was right about the Harbinger. She was able to use it.
“Listen to me,” she said, though Bjorn hadn’t actually said anything. “This is a suicide mission. Tenbrook’s going to kill us all. The commander doesn’t care. She just wants to lock down as many of his resources as she can for as long as she can. She knows he’ll get us eventually. The refugees are just her bait.”
“You’re not ready to die for the Empress?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Of course I am. That’s my point.”
“You’re saying we’re dead anyway, so why not break all the rules?”
Glaring up at him, she brushed damp bangs out of her eyes and folded her arms.
“Yes,” she said defiantly.
“Fine.”
“What?”
“I said fine. But only so I can prove you wrong. I don’t believe we have to die out here. You don’t give the commander enough credit. But the damage is done. If you’ve gone off your regimen, your genes are already shot. I can’t save you, and I can’t tell Mao. She can say what she wants, but the less she knows, the better. She’ll probably figure it out on her own. But you have to keep it from the rest of the crew.”
“You’ll help me?”
“If anyone can stand up to Tenbrook, it’s you.”<
br />
“I’ll need your help.”
“I know.”
She stared at him. “That’s it?”
“Do you regret it?”
She hesitated. “No.”
Bjorn had made up his mind the moment DiJeur told him the truth. This was the only way to proceed. The Lydia Bennet needed to be strong, not dragged down by more internal problems. On a personal level, Mao would probably agree with Bjorn’s diagnosis, but she would still be forced to sideline Kladinova. Mao was the type that might bend the rules to get results in a pinch, but she would never go this far.
What Kladinova had done was extreme.
“I can do this,” Bjorn said, cutting her off, “because I’m not a real officer. I’m not even supposed to be here. I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t qualified for Everwing. No one expects me to have good judgment. I’m just an analyst. I don’t know any better. That’s the story. That’s what we’re going with.”
“Okay,” she said, and Bjorn could see hope in her eyes.
“But we’re in this together. Has it occurred to you there’s a reason we aren’t supposed to binge on Harbinger? If that was a good thing, we’d all be doing it. You have to start being honest with me. If your ability to fly is compromised, I’m not letting you go out there.”
“I’m flying better than I ever have.”
“That could change. We don’t know what this is going to do to you. I know you feel like you have to fly, like nothing else matters. I don’t care what you get off on, but don’t let it blind you to the mission. We’re not in a position where you can indulge yourself. It’s not just us. There’s fifty thousand refugees counting on us.”
“I know.”
“Then follow my orders. If you don’t, we’ll end up doing this ship more harm than good.”
She was taken aback. It was clear that her obsession with the Everwing fighters had broken down many of her aristocratic barriers, but she still wasn’t used to being spoken to this way. Especially by someone as lowly as Bjorn. But this was war, and they were both in over their heads.
Kladinova nodded slowly. Bjorn kept his face hard, and his voice unfriendly.
“I’m going to hold you to this,” he said. “What you did to Yeoman DiJeur? That’s the last time you do anything on your own. And if we do make it back, we’ll both answer for it.”
“All right.”
She realized how serious the situation was. She wouldn’t be taking this risk otherwise. Diana Kladinova might do stupid things, but Bjorn didn’t believe she was stupid.
“We’re going to have to watch your health,” he added. “Closely. And right now you need to be resting while you can, before we’re on alert. Go to your bunk and stay there.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said.
Bjorn didn’t believe her.
15
IT was proof of the turn the mission had taken that no one seemed to care that Kladinova’s accomplishments in the battle almost defied plausibility. The crew was intent on getting the ship ready for its next encounter with Tenbrook.
The fighter needed minor repairs, and further refinements to its interface to take Kladinova’s increased Harbinger intake into account. Her sacrifice of her DNA meant nothing if they couldn’t get the most effect out of it. After seeing what she had been able to do so far, Bjorn couldn’t help but feel some hope at the possibilities.
Tenbrook had enormous resources behind him, but they weren’t infinite. More importantly, the pirates and mercenaries that worked for him were truly loyal only to themselves. They wouldn’t like blindly going into battle with a mysterious Evagardian vessel responsible for destroying dozens of ships. Yes, Tenbrook could use fear to throw ships at the Lydia, but if the Everwing pilots could give good enough account of themselves, the time had to come when these people would simply refuse to jump to their deaths. Tenbrook’s wrath could hardly be more intimidating than the certain death that Mao offered. The more damage Kladinova could do, the sooner Tenbrook’s power base would begin to weaken.
There were four reserve fighters aboard the Lydia. Compton and DiJeur were already hard at work deploying the first of them to replace the one Tenbrook had captured. Everyone in the crew except Mao was qualified to pilot a fighter. They could lose seven fighters, or even ten people, and the Lydia would still be technically able to fight.
For the first time, Bjorn wondered if this unusual crew configuration hadn’t been conceived with precisely this type of one-way mission in mind.
Kladinova wasn’t the only one who needed rest. Readying the fighter was a lot of work for one person, and Bjorn was glad the commander had released him from his secondary duties.
But now there was another team that was short a man.
Commander Mao had done the right thing by putting Yeoman Rebecca DiJeur in the pilot’s seat instead of Major Compton. Compton would do a better job running support; his grief for Major Lucas wouldn’t get in the way of his desire to keep DiJeur alive. Likewise, DiJeur hadn’t been as close to Lucas. Her feelings wouldn’t get in the way of her flying. She would follow Major Compton’s orders, and his orders would give her the best possible chance.
Bjorn made his way up the spine to the bridge. The commander had summoned her executive staff.
Mao was cross-legged in her command chair, dwarfed by it. Her eyes were closed and her head was bowed.
“Who’s that?” she asked without looking up as he entered.
“Lieutenant Bjorn, ma’am.”
“I wish there was time to give you credit,” she said, her eyes remaining closed. “But there isn’t. Kladinova carried that fight. Her aggression and numbers threw off Tenbrook’s counter and let the other fighters find traction they wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. It was good work, so don’t think no one noticed. It looks like Kladinova really performs under pressure. I guess we needed to get her out of the simulator and into a real cockpit to unlock her potential. We’re lucky to have her. What’s troubling you?”
“Ma’am, the mission’s changed.”
“Yes, a couple of times now. I’m sorry. I wish we could just slaughter helpless pirates like we were supposed to. I really do.”
“It’s not that. It’s that I don’t know if I belong on the bridge now. I know the job under ideal circumstances, but I’ve never had officer training, never passed aptitude, never been cleared and vetted for commissioned duty. Are you sure you want my judgment to have this much of a role in what’s coming?” Bjorn laid it out plainly; he didn’t know how else to ask the question.
“It’s all academic,” Mao said after a moment. “I need you regardless. You and Kladinova obviously have chemistry, if you’ll pardon my phrasing. I know she’s a handful; I can’t just give her to someone else. And so far you haven’t given me any reason to doubt you. We’re short two people, so you’d have to go pretty far astray for me to bench you. Do you doubt your judgment?”
“I don’t know. I try not to overthink things. I try not to look back.”
“Is that a knee-jerk thing because of what happened to you?” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Bjorn sat down.
“Probably,” he replied after a moment.
She sighed. “I think it’s encouraging that you have the presence of mind to see the danger. I don’t know if you’re angling to have this weight lifted from your shoulders, but it’s not going to happen. You’re going to stay in that seat. Would another commander switch you with the general? Probably. I’m not going to do that, though. After Kladinova, she’s my best killer. And we need kills. I might be wrong.”
“No objections, ma’am. I just wanted to raise the question.”
“Bjorn, there’s nothing wrong with taking risks. This is war. We’re not going to win it by staying inside our comfort zone. The Commonwealth is a lot bigger than the Imperium. If we could win this by the numbers, we’d already
have done it. Risks are part of the job. I just try to make sure I’m taking them for the right reasons. Did you even try commissioning aptitudes?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Why not? Where’s the harm?”
“I just assumed.”
“I think that’s very telling. Don’t sell yourself short, Bjorn. Stop holding back. That rainy day you’re saving it all for probably isn’t going to come.”
The hatch opened before Bjorn could reply, and Woodhouse and Compton came onto the bridge.
Bjorn didn’t know where he’d been going with that line of questioning; it had just come out. Maybe he was looking for the commander’s tacit blessing for what he and Kladinova were attempting.
General Dayal appeared looking crisp, alert, and calm. The old woman was a reassuring presence. Like the commander, she was small. But she stood very straight, and both her face and her body language projected the message that Tenbrook bothered her no more than a mild headache.
She was not officially part of the bridge staff, but it was unthinkable that the commander wouldn’t take advantage of her experience in this situation.
“Okay,” Mao said, turning the command chair around to face them. “Doyle encoded his coordinates. He was trusting our computer to break it faster than Tenbrook’s, because there’s no way Perdita didn’t pick up the transmission too. I guess it was his only way to get us a message without long-range coms. We’ll have that location in about five minutes.”
“Four, Commander,” the AI corrected.
“We’re going to jump straight to Doyle, and then we’re going to figure out what to do next.”
“Scatter jumps back to Burton Station,” Woodhouse said. “We can drag our feet a little, let Tenbrook think he can catch us. Meanwhile we use short-range coms to notify our intelligence network here in Demenis, and let them carry the message to the fleet. That way Tenbrook won’t suspect. We can have a strike force waiting just this side of Demenis. Catch him in a trap, take him down. Focus Perdita. Someone will take his place, but it’ll pay off at the front in the short term if we can take him out. I think the fleet would go for it.”
