Magnet Omnibus I (Lacuna)

by David Adams

  [“Excellent. I have done as you asked and wish to see my family now.”]

  I grimaced. I wanted to stall him further, but another wave of fire hit the ship. The Toralii were getting bolder. “When we’re no longer being shot at,” I said, knowing he couldn’t understand me.

  [“With power restored your pilots should be capable of steering you to a voidwarp location and your escape. I do not wish to come with you, Human, and neither do I want my family to be continued to be used as hostages. Release them immediately and I will take the escape craft, as per our arrangement, and return to my people.”]

  I tapped twice. No.

  There was silence, then a low, understanding chuckle over the line. [“I anticipated as much. It would not be wise to endanger my children by putting them into the middle of a firefight. Escape pods are… flimsy.”] There was another pause. I hadn’t even thought of that excuse. [“Very well, perhaps I will stay with you for now. Still, I would like to see my family now.”]

  I quickly tapped once.

  [“Where should I meet you? Tap once for the crew quarters on the level below, twice for the command core.”]

  I tapped once. The further he was away from here the better.

  [“Very well, I will see you shortly.”]

  I didn’t have long to think of a lie. Everyone on the bridge—or as Tybalt had called it, the command core—was watching me. I was the CO now. I had to make a decision, and fast.

  “Any ideas?” I asked the bridge.

  “It seems pretty simple,” said Scott. “The repairs are complete. The ship’s getting power. Have the marines take care of him just like the others.”

  It felt wrong to be so… clinical about it. “So we shoot him, just like that?”

  “Yes,” said Scott. “That’s it. We shoot him. This is war, Captain, and our Toralii prisoner is one of them. He has no useful information for us, and probably wouldn’t help us if his own life were not in danger. The only difference between him and the rest of the Toralii we gassed today is that you’ve given him a name.”

  “That makes a difference to me.”

  It did, too. Tybalt wasn’t just one of the enemy now. He was our prisoner, and we had an obligation to treat him well.

  Then again, the rules regarding nerve gas didn’t apply to the Toralii either, and if the situations were reversed—and our fleets not as fortunate—Cenar might still stand, and we would be hauled off there to be tortured for the rest of our days.

  I’d heard about what they did to the crew of the Tehran. I’d seen their scars.

  “Fine,” I said, turning towards the exit. “I’ll go do it myself.”

  I wandered for a little while, reluctant to head directly towards the crew quarters and determined to postpone the inevitable for as long as I could, but the occasional sprinkling of Toralii fire hitting the ship became a solid wall of rain. I knew I should finish this and quickly, but some part of me wasn’t ready to head there. Not yet. Instead, I reached for my radio.

  “Magnet to bridge. Report status.”

  Shaba’s voice came back to me, frustrated and urgent. “We’re so heavily engaged the Toralii should give us a ring. You better get back here, Captain.”

  I knew I should, but this was important to me. “You’ll do fine. Go total evasive, and when we get there, jump the ship. I’ll be back up soon.”

  I swore I could hear Major Scott choking in the background as I clipped the radio back on my belt and finally made my way down to the crew quarters. The marines had settled into the area quite well, filling the bowels of the ship with their gear. Some slept despite the pounding of weapons fire on the outer hull.

  The ship shook as I stepped up to the quarters that held Tybalt. The two marines on guard opened the door for me without saying a word.

  He was much as I left him, and when I came in he looked at me with an eager smile. [“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come, Human.”]

  I slowly took my tablet from my belt, then tapped the unlock button and handed it over. The light shone in Tybalt’s face and he inspected it warily, leaning in to scrutinise it closer. I studied his expression as he looked over the display, his face changing from confusion, to shock, then anger as the true meaning of the image dawned.

  A looping video taken from the marine helmets, images of them flushing the gassed Toralii corpses out the airlock.

  He glared at me, his brown eyes narrowing. [“This is a fake image. You are trying to distract me so I continue to work for you.”]

  I shook my head. I knew he couldn’t understand my words, but I tried to communicate with him via tone. “I bought you your family, man. That’s all that’s left.”

  Tybalt’s large paws shook as he held the tablet. [“No. My children. My mate. They cannot be… floating out in the nothing!”] With a roar, he snapped the tablet in half, sending shards of glass and circuit board everywhere.

  I didn’t know what I was expecting him to do. Kill me, probably. I don’t know why I expected it so; I wasn’t suicidal, overcome with grief or remorse, but I expected him to kill me. It felt right that he would. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I later came to understand why it was sane and rational to feel this way.

  It was justice. We had done wrong and should have been punished.

  Tybalt, whose real name I still did not know, dropped both the ruins of the tablet and the device he had built, then slammed his fist into the bulkhead. Over and over, crying and enraged, a mixture of grief, anger, remorse. He said things—words, phrases, grunts and groans I could barely translate—but I knew he was hurting.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “We don’t kill children if we can help it. We don’t kill civilians at all, normally, we just needed your ship. That’s all. We just needed the ship.”

  He probably couldn’t understand me even if he spoke my language. He slumped in the corner, holding his large, muscled hands over his head, not moving or saying anything.

  Then he looked at me.

  He hated me. I could see that. It was the same look that the Kel-Voran male had given me when I delivered him to his wife; contemptuous, bitter. Was this to be our legacy now? My crew and I, roaming around the galaxy in our stolen ship, a rag-tag group of pirates who made enemies where ever they went?

  [“What will you do with me?”] Tybalt growled. [“I will never assist you.”]

  “I know.”

  I reached down to my pistol. I slowly and deliberately clicked open the thumb break strap, grasped the steel handle and withdrew it.

  Tybalt’s eyes followed the device. He seemed to relax, losing some of his anger as though this were his preferred option. Slowly he stood, climbing up to his feet, not attempting to attack me or resist in any way. He just stood there, looking at me as I looked at him.

  “I’m sorry man,” I said, and raised my sidearm.

  Half way back to the command core a faint hum echoed throughout the ship, and the pitter-patter of incoming fire ceased. We’d jumped, away from the fire and the death of that system, our mission complete. Piggyback was a slowly expanding ball of gas and debris in an alien world, but our prize was intact. More or less. We had taken a Toralii ship; a valuable piece of hardware that would aid our war effort substantively.

  Too bad we had to gas a bunch of children for it. A bunch of defenceless kids along with their adult guardians.

  When I returned to the bridge everything was quiet. The crew weren’t relaxing, though. They were probably too tired for that.

  “Well?” asked Shaba.

  “The Prince of Cats won’t be joining us,” I said, moving back up to the central dais, glancing up at the holographic display of a familiar system. Reds and yellows, all splashed across the stars like a bucket of spilt paints. A nebula I knew too well. “We’re in the Blood Sky system?”

  “Seemed like the logical place to go,” said Shaba. Scott clearly wasn’t pleased about the destination, and she almost opened her mouth to complain, but I just no
dded Shaba’s way.

  “Good work,” I said. “These guys owe us a favour. Shaba, get our happily married friend on the horn, see if we can scrounge up some hospitality, then lets see about getting some rest. Don’t let her husband know we’re here if we can avoid it.”

  Shaba’s plan was good, but as I looked at the holographic display above us, of the view of the Blood Sky system stretched out before me, I couldn’t help but feel a stab of pain inside at the sight and the memories of Gutterball it conjured.

  “Aye aye,” said Shaba. “Getting it done.”

  I knew I’d forgotten something. “So, yes. Congratulations,” I said to the room, “we’ve captured the Al’Farrak.”

  Everyone clapped. When it died down, Mace said, “We can’t call it that, though. That’s the name of a freighter. This is a warship.”

  He had a point.

  “Piggyback II?” suggested Scott.

  Shaba made a revolted face. “Blech. No.”

  “The Rubens,” I said, an offer that was met with nods of approval from all around. “May she be as strong and dependable as her namesake.”

  Everyone enjoyed a moment of silence, and then Scott spoke up.

  “So what now, Captain?”

  I took in a deep breath, putting my hands on my hips. “We can repair, resupply, and rest here before pushing on back to the Sol system.” I turned to every one of my crew in turn, making sure to meet their gaze so that they understood, just as well as I did, my meaning. “We do the retrofit, get our full crew compliment along with our Wasps and Broadswords, and then we go hunting.”

  I looked up again, back to the nebula that looked like splattered blood across the stars. I had promised myself I would propose to Penny, to eventually marry her, but this mission would take up most of my time. After the repairs, after we’d received our extra crew, we’d be gone; slipping in and out like ghosts. I’d barely have enough time to see her.

  I really wanted Penny here right at that moment, but some part of me was glad she was safe on Earth. For the first time in my career I felt vaguely ashamed of what had happened. What I individually, and my crew collectively, had done.

  There would be some price to pay for this, some debt written in our ledgers that would, like a forgotten bill, rise to haunt us later, but for now we had captured a ship that would prove invaluable in our struggle.

  I hadn’t shot a Toralii. An enemy trying to kill me. I’d executed a helpless person. A mechanic who loved his kids, who trusted the word of some aliens who’d already proved themselves to be violent.

  My senior staff were Israeli, my marines German. How swiftly we had let ourselves commit heinous acts in the name of the greater good. Our memories were short indeed.

  “Let’s get going,” I said. “We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  MAGNET: SCARECROW

  Magnet: Scarecrow

  As a pilot only two bad things can happen to you (and one of them will):

  a. One day you will walk out to the aircraft,

  knowing it is your last flight.

  b. One day you will walk out to the aircraft,

  not knowing it is your last flight.

  - Andy Hill

  Magnet: Scarecrow

  Infirmary

  TFR Rubens

  Orbit of Velsharn

  Six hours after the events of Lacuna: The Ashes of Humanity

  And ten months after the events of Magnet: Marauder

  “I NEED TO SPEAK TO Commander Liao immediately.”

  I felt like the weight of the words would crush me. The battle was over, the Rubens had repaired its damage and was now assisting the survivors. In the middle of the medical bay was large tank full of green fluid. The Rubens was originally a Toralii ship and we were just starting to understand some of our pilfered technology. Beyond the glass floated a woman in a skintight suit. Her left arm was a bandaged stump and I could see that the skin of her head, her left side and probably other bits of her that I couldn’t see was heavily scarred.

  Commander Melissa Liao. She was the de-facto leader of the human race and she teetered on the edge of death.

  Doctor Saeed, a Persian man who looked far too young to be a full doctor despite some grey flecks in his beard, shook his head resolutely. “No. Her condition is still critical. Commander Liao is in a medically induced coma and she’s still far too frail to be woken up. Her body needs more time to recover, and I mean weeks and months. She needs to rest.”

  I could not imagine that being suspended in fluid would be restful. Even though she was unconscious, I swore Liao’s face was a pained mask, the corners of her mouth tugging out as though in barely suppressed agony. Her burns were severe and my skin itched just looking at her wounds. There was no way she was comfortable even if she was unconscious. Her dreams would be tortured.

  I had sympathy, but I had my duty, too. “It can’t wait. I’m sorry.” It couldn’t either. I had to get the words out or I felt like I was going to explode.

  “It’s going to have to.” Saeed’s voice was firm. “Take whatever matter you have to Captains Anderson or de Lugo. Captain Grégoire is in command, officially.” He gestured to a lump of blankets on a nearby seat. I realised, now, that it was the shape of a man curled up on a chair, a man using a blanket to shield the bright glare of the ship’s lights from his eyes and get some precious sleep.

  Captain Grégoire. His affair with Commander Liao, and their resultant child that was still more or less in my care, was well known but I hadn’t had much of a chance to talk with him. Perhaps now was not the best time.

  I thought this over. Captain Anderson it would have to be. Although de Lugo was an option as well. But neither of them, despite their advanced ranks, would probably be more helpful than Commander Liao. The Beijing was always at the forefront of everything, and I had not asked where the Sydney was. Its disappearance was unusual; I had expected it to help defend Eden, but I put the matter out of my mind.

  Perhaps I spent too long thinking. Saeed, somewhat worriedly, spoke up. “Captain Williams?”

  “Sorry.” I tried to shake out my thoughts, my demons, but I couldn’t. “Yes?”

  “Are you alright?”

  “No,” I said honestly. “Not really.”

  “Want to talk about it?” Saeed rested his hip up against his desk, a casual, easy listening posture straight out of the Combat Stress Reaction treatment handbook. The modern military was all about feelings and group hugs or whatever, but strangely, despite me recognising what it was and what he was trying to do, I did felt relaxed.

  “Nah,” I said, but I knew that was a lie. “Actually, yeah. I do.”

  “Okay, let me hear it.” As though sensing my reluctance, he added, “If it’s important, I’ll wake up Captain Grégoire to deal with whatever’s troubling you.”

  I didn’t want to disturb him but I did want to talk. “Right,” I said, trying to collect my thoughts into something resembling a cohesive lump of story-stuff. “So, it’s not exactly public knowledge, but this ship? We stole it from the Toralii Alliance. For the last year the Rubens has been tasked with piracy—uhh, I mean, ‘counter-logistical privateering’—against the Alliance shipping and military supply network. It’s been particularly effective because when we jacked the ship, we captured their windwhisper codes, transport ID and manifest, the works. We’ve been able to reverse-engineer basically everything about this ship, so we can travel in the Toralii shipping lanes unmolested, pretending to be merchants, until we find a target, isolate them, and destroy them.”

  He didn’t seem surprised at this. “I didn’t know the specifics, but I suspected this ship was all up to no good out there in the black. I know I’m not alone in thinking that.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, we sank ship after ship, destroyed freighter after freighter. Fat lot of good it did. Earth is toast.” I had been there when Earth burned. Having my honeymoon no less. Trying to rest, recover from what had happened. Seeing Earth burning from orbit was an image that would
never leave me.

  “What happened to Earth wasn’t your fault,” said Saeed, his voice soft. “Nor was it any of ours. It’s normal to be feeling what you’re feeling. We, as a species, just lost our homeworld.”

  “I know. I’m still processing that, to be honest, but I really meant our mission.”

  “Well, from what you told me, it sounds like you were doing well. The more Alliance ships blown to atoms the better.”

  I’d thought the same thing once. Unfortunately reality was a lot more complex. “We were doing quite well for ourselves, yes. Until Scarecrow.”

  “Scarecrow?” Saeed shifted his posture. “One of your Broadswords?”

  “Not quite.” I took a deep breath and started from the beginning.

  Operations, TFR Rubens

  Two months earlier

  My console flashed with a dull yellow light. The Toralii ship was hailing us; probably an attempt to convince us to call off our attack. It was far, far too late for that, though. The freighter and its crew were already dead. They just didn’t know it yet. Our missiles streaked towards the target like sharks honing in on bloodied prey.

  “Hit, hit, hit.” Shaba pumped her fist in the air. “We fucking got ‘em, three impacts right in the centre of mass. Their reactor is lighting up.”

  A wild cheer went up from the Operations crew. I cheered along with them. The ceiling of the Rubens glowed uncomfortably bright as a blossoming fireball grew in the depths of space, one that flashed and winked out as the hostile freighter’s oxygen supply was consumed. Now our target was just millions of pieces of debris, a slowly expanding cloud at the edge of some nameless Toralii system.

  Victory 29.

  “Nice shooting Shaba, as usual. Status of our strike craft?”