by David Adams
Smoke withdrew a syringe full of a white fluid I knew all too well, popped the top off, then pressed it against the Toralii’s veins. It went in fast, then out.
“Stand back,” said Smoke, standing and moving away. “They tend to be a bit antsy when they get up.”
Nothing happened. The Toralii lay there, moaning softly, while we stood around like idiots.
“Clock’s ticking,” said Scott. “We don’t have time for this. We have to stop the reactor from breaking down, or else—”
With a roar the Toralii leapt to his feet, teeth bared, reaching the limit of his restraints. He struggled for a time, then just sat there, snarling softly, eyes darting between us and the raised weapons of the marines.
“I’m Major Scott,” said Scott, “from Task Force Resolution. We have commandeered this vessel.”
[“Who are you, aliens? What do you want?”]
“He doesn’t understand us,” I said. That was to be expected. For us, learning the various Toralii languages was an important task and we were all passable at it, but to them we were just another species who’d developed jump drive and had to be squashed. He probably didn’t even know what we were.
“We need you to fix the reactor,” she said again, pointlessly. Human mouths couldn’t form the necessary sounds to speak their language, even if we understood it.
[“Where is my family? Why have you attacked us?”]
I was pretty sure that’s what he was saying. I crouched beside him. This drew a concerned look from all around, but I did it anyway. I pointed to the reactor door.
He watched my finger, eyes turning to me. [“Yes,”] he said, [“I am an engineer.”]
I pointed again, shaking my head. I tapped my finger on the metal.
[“That is the reactor room.”]
I tapped again. The Toralii’s frustration became obvious.
[“I don’t understand.”]
Of course he didn’t. We had no time for a language lesson. I thought for a moment, then stood. “We have to show him to Operations. Let him see what’s going on for himself.”
Scott’s brow creased. “I don’t think that’s wise. He knows this ship better than we do, and he may become… agitated. He’s injured, scared, and he’s had some powerful chemical stimulants.”
He might. He had asked about his family; the bodies of the Toralii children we’d put in the airlock ran through my mind. I knew that the Toralii had a soft spot for children. What might he think of us if he knew they were dead?
[“I want to see my family,”] he said again.
I nodded.
[“You will take me to them?”]
How could I explain ‘later’? I nodded anyway. “Marine, unlock him from the wall. Keep his hands and feet bound.”
He did so, cautiously, and then the Toralii stood. He was taller than all of us, nearly seven feet in all, and very strong. I beckoned him to follow me, then we headed back the way we’d come.
Although we had called ahead to let everyone know what we were doing, the presence of a Toralii in and amongst them, even restrained as he was, was clearly upsetting. All eyes were upon him as he shuffled forward, touching some of the keys on Shaba’s console, the two of us watching his every move.
I could see the worry grow in his eyes as he read more of what the ship’s computers were telling him.
“What should we call him?” I asked Shaba, stepping up beside her. “The Toralii, I mean.”
“Who cares?”
“I care.” I thought for a moment. “Let’s call him Bob.”
“That’s the most stupid and unoriginal name I’ve ever heard.”
I elbowed her in the side. “I thought you didn’t care.”
“Fine,” she said, “let’s call him Tybalt.”
The name rang a bell. “From Romeo and Juliet?”
Shaba, her attention focused on the Toralii’s work, barely took her eyes off her console. “Yep.”
“Why?”
“It’s the first name that jumped into my head. Probably something to do with him being the King of Cats.”
That was good enough reason as any. Tybalt it was; the king of a ship of ghosts.
[“The reactor has suffered a loss of alignment,”] said Tybalt. [“It must have occurred while I was recharging the coils, hours ago. The ship will be shortly unable to jump.”]
Translation: The teleport thingie was broken. I wished he would tell us something we didn’t know.
Tybalt looked at us, taking in the blank looks on our faces. [“It can be repaired,”] he said, [“but I will require parts from storage, my tool kit, my radiation suit and access to the reactor. The work will take some time.”]
We didn’t have much. We had emerged from the cloud of metal hiding us long ago but with no sign of pursuit. Still, my warrior’s instinct told me that this was not over. The Toralii would not just jump away.
Time was the fire slowly consuming us all.
“Okay,” I said, nodding for emphasis, forgetting that he couldn’t understand us. “Fix it.”
[“Raise your hand if you wish for me to effect the repairs.”]
I did so.
[“I will do this for you,”] he said, [“and I will assist you to the best of my ability. But immediately after I wish to be reunited with my family. You must promise me that you are keeping them safe. We bear you no ill will. We are not military. We will take one escape craft and we will leave. Swear you will do this and I will assist you. Raise your hand if you agree.”]
Lying time. I raised my hand.
He held up his shackled paws. [“Then release me and I will get to work.”]
One of the marines handed me a key. I started to unlock it. “Major Scott? Keep two marines with him at all times. If he tries anything funny, shoot him.”
Tybalt left with the marines in tow, heading back towards the reactor room.
“What’s he going to do when he wants to see his kids?” asked Shaba.
“Good question,” I said, “bluff him until we figure out what to do with him.”
“And when he insists? He’s not going to be happy when he discovers that his kids are frozen, gassed corpses floating out in space.”
This was indeed a problem. I’d stuck a bargain with Tybalt but I couldn’t uphold my end of the deal. “I’ll just have to play it by ear.”
She looked unimpressed but seemed to accept that. “Right.”
I changed the subject. “How long until we’re behind the planet?”
“Two hours. Then six to the jump point.”
The numbers didn’t add up. “Wait, it was four hours just before.”
“Well, that was then and this is now. The drain on the reactor is slowing us down. Unless things get substantially worse, it’s four hours at current speed.”
“Why are we slowing down? Aren’t we already ballistic to some extent?”
Shaba nodded. “Of course. We’re not slowing down, we can’t accellerate as fast. Also, since we actually plan on stopping at the other side, we have to decelerate earlier otherwise we risk overshooting the jump point. This piloting stuff is hard you know.”
I knew and I resented Shaba having to explain it. I was a pilot, too. Just because I hadn’t been in the pilot’s seat for a few months didn’t change that.
Still, my wounded pride aside, this wasn’t good. “Is the leak really affecting us that much?”
“Yep.” Shaba folded her arms. “Better hope our new friend comes through for us.”
I certainly did hope he did. I didn’t fancy seeing what the Toralii Alliance might do to pirates. We’d learnt through the grape vine that the Kel-Voran sometimes committed acts of piracy against the Alliance, so their procedures would be well established and brutally swift. The fleet had blown up Cenar, their massive prison facility, but I was under no illusions that they wouldn’t have others.
Assuming they didn’t just shoot us.
Something else was bothering me too. “You know,” I said, “it’s we
ird that Tybalt’s helping us without even knowing that his family are still on board, or even still alive. I would have asked for a proof-of-life first.”
Shaba nodded. “Same thing occurred to me. Maybe Toralii are used to people keeping their promises.”
That made sense. I wanted to discuss it further, but out of the corner of my eye I could see Scott glaring at me.
“Captain,” she asked, “a word?”
With a nod, we stepped out into the corridor.
Scott walked with me out of the bridge area, a couple of the marines in tow. She was agitated, I could see that, and I knew it wasn’t the reactor. Or it wasn’t just the reactor. Something was eating at her and, perhaps, she’d been holding in what she wanted to say for a while now.
Fortunately she broke the silence before I had to ignore it for too long.
“You should be more formal with the men.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am?”
She didn’t look at me as we walked. “You’re the commanding officer now, but you’re still treating them like your war buddies out on a patrol.”
“They are my war buddies.”
“Not here.” She stopped and I stopped too, the marines pulling up behind us. Scott pointed at the floor. “On this deck they’re soldiers under your command. They’re to follow your orders and they’re to do it without question. Their names are not Shaba, nor Mace, nor Ginger; they’re Lieutenant Kollek, they’re Lieutenant Ben-Ami and they’re Lieutenant Shamoon. They’re not your friends. They’re your subordinates.”
I folded my arms, something I knew would annoy her. “I’m sorry, Major, but as far as I can see they are following my orders.”
“For now,” said Scott, “but that’s not the point. You’re breeding bad habits. They question. They hesitate. They aren’t seeing you as the commander, and right now your orders are suggestions. That can’t continue. They’ll make a mistake, they’ll question you when they should be obeying you, and that mistake will cost them. Military mistakes are paid in blood.”
“You don’t have to remind me, Major.”
She wasn’t having that. I couldn’t use Gutterball’s death to silence her this time. “Then tell me, Lieutenant Williams, what was Lieutenant Ruben’s mistake?”
I didn’t know where the answer came from, but it jumped right to my lips before I had time to think about it.
“She trusted our passenger, who used that trust to get her pistol and shoot her.”
Scott leaned forward and I knew, I just knew, what she was going to say. “Agreed. Don’t repeat her mistake. When the repairs are complete, shoot the bastard and be done with it.”
“What if we need him later?”
“Then,” she said, “you will have the wrong call. That’s life. You’re the Captain now. You’re going to have to make a lot of these calls in the future if you want to survive, and if you want to use this vessel effectively. You’re going to have to make decisions about who lives or dies, or what risks you take and what opportunities you pass up. Some of them are going to play out and some aren’t. If you make the right call, then most everything will come good in the end. If you make the wrong call, we all die.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Major. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“See that you do,” she said, and walked back to Operations, the marines following her.
I didn’t know what to think as I stepped back into the bridge area. The Piggyback crew were working away at their consoles, although there wasn’t much for them to actually do at present. I assumed they were still learning the ins and outs of their new ship rather than doing anything specific. The holographic screen above me showed nothing but a field of stars.
“Any sign of pursuit?” I asked Mace.
He scrunched up his face as he looked at his display. “Nah. Not yet. Not that we could tell anyway.”
That seemed odd. “Something wrong with our radar?”
“No,” said Shaba. “I made a slight change to our course. There’s a radiation belt between this planet and it’s moon, along with what looks like a proto-asteroid belt. It’s probably the result of one of its moons breaking up. In any event, there’s a lot of debris there we can hide in. Of course, in space, camouflage works both ways.”
Not being able to see in exchange for some concealment worked for me. However, Scott’s words rang in my ears and I knew I had to say something. “I didn’t recall authorising such a deviation from our course.”
I knew everyone was looking at me, all with a mixture of emotions.
“No,” said Shaba. “You didn’t. I just—”
“You assumed.”
“Yes, I did,” she answered, a stiffness in her tone. “Sir.”
I felt bad. Not because I was giving orders, or because I was giving them to Shaba, but because I was changing the dynamic of the crew. Before we were friends. Now… less so.
Major Scott had a point, but I wasn’t sure I completely agreed. I wanted to tell Shaba I was sorry but there was no time for that, and I’d already said what I’d said. No going back.
First two rules of command: Never apologise, never resign. I knew that much.
“So,” said Shaba, “did you want me to resume our previous course, sir?”
“No. Hiding in the asteroids and radiation is a good plan.” I thought that Shaba’s course correction had showed initiative, but I couldn’t say that. “Maintain course and heading, see if we can match pace with some of the larger pieces of debris. If we can’t detect anything anyway, let’s go to passive sensors. No active radar, only thermals. Watch for active radar and comms.”
It took some time for the order to be effected, but less than I anticipated. The crew were getting the hang of the Toralii systems quickly.
Scott spoke up. “Captain, the Toralii systems have filtered a portion of the nerve agent we deployed into some kind of canister on the lower decks. What did you want done with it?”
I had no time for that evil stuff. “Flush it into space.”
“I’d advise against that,” said Scott. “It might be detectable even in trace amounts and it’s got a distinct chemical signature. The Toralii spectrometers are quite powerful and even a small gas release could give away our position.”
“Moving it might also be dangerous,” Mace said. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally release it into our atmosphere.”
Good points well made. “Store it then. But make sure it’s kept under guard. I don’t want any surprises.” I turned to Shaba. “How’s the ship handling?”
“Worse and worse.” She glared at her console as though being angry at the ship might solve the problems. “If we don’t get that core fixed soon, we’re going to have problems staying within the radiation belt.”
“It’s only a matter of time before our thermal profile gives us away anyway.”
“True, but the thing is, they have to know where to look. If we’re moving too fast, or too slow, or in the wrong orbit, then that makes it easy for them.”
This was a problem. “Scott, do our marines have any idea how the repairs are going?”
She conferred with them, chattering over the radio for a moment. “They don’t know. The Toralii’s working hard, though.”
“Good.” I didn’t know what else to say.
Silence reigned as the ship sailed through the debris field. Shaba worked away, her flight control clearly getting worse and worse by the hour. I swore the holographic display seemed less bright than it did before.
Exhaustion began to take its toll. The ship was supposed to be long gone from the system by now. Would the Sydney send people looking for us? The Tehran maybe?
That wasn’t part of the plan. If we failed, we were disavowed, but Captain Knight of the Sydney would never leave his people to an unknown fate. Perhaps that was why the Toralii were not openly pursuing us. They were waiting for our rescue party.
“So,” said Mace, breaking the silence. “Mags. How’re you holding up?”
“Mmm?”
“Well,” he said, leaning against his console, “it can’t be easy. You’re Australian. Your de-facto XO’s a Brit’. Rest of us are Germans or Israelis. That’s gotta be hard for you, having to lead this motley pirate crew without at least a shared cultural fibre.”
“Eh,” I said, shrugging. “We’re all pilots. That’s enough, so far, so I think I’m doing okay. Maybe I’m secretly Jewish, that’s why I’m getting along with everyone so well.”
“Oh really? Go on, then. Say something Hebrew.”
“Hannukah Matata,” I said. “It means no worries.”
Mace laughed. “I hate you so much right now.”
“Hey, you made a Holocaust joke before.”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“Well, watch your back mate. Keller looked damn pissed.”
“Hah. That’s because—” He stopped, his console flashing purple. Suddenly he was all business. “Alert, we’re being pinged.”
“An active radar?” I asked, straightening my back. I hadn’t realised I had been slouching, but I should have. It felt like I’d been standing for days.
“Confirmed. Active pulse, low frequency, scanning through the debris.”
Shaba tapped at her console. “Should we change course?”
“Not yet,” I said. “They might see us, they might not.”
The ship rocked as a wave of fire struck it.
“My money’s on might,” said Bobbitt. He’d managed to sit up but that was all he could manage.
“Shaba, get us out of here.”
“Trying,” she said. “This thing turns like a pregnant sow.”
More fire splashed off the outer hull. We would need to move if we were going to survive. “Scott, patch me through to the marines holding Tybalt. I want to talk to him”
She did so.
[“We are under attack, aren’t we? Tap once for yes, twice for no.”]
Pretty perceptive for a kitty cat. I tapped my finger once on the microphone.
[“I see. Fortunately I have some good news for you, Human. The reactor core leak should be repaired, and power should be restored imminently.”]
I looked to Shaba. She nodded encouragingly. “Looks good from up here. We’re getting power to all parts of the ship.” I tapped once.
