by Tony Healey
The hybrid sat up, swung his big legs around and reached out to the tray. He picked up half of a sandwich and bit into it. "Reminds me of back home," he said, chewing at the same time.
"The training facility on Outland?"
It nodded.
"I guess that was home for you, huh?"
"Yes."
Ardai made to leave, then turned back. Something bugged him. It had bugged him since the thing arrived on board. "Hey, listen . . . do you have an actual name? Something we can call you by?"
The hybrid blinked, and it seemed to Will that it would not answer him. Then suddenly it spoke. "I am Plenty of Hate."
"Huh?"
"Plenty of Hate. That's what they called me. I was number twenty-eight. Plenty of Hate."
Will laughed. "I see. It makes sense. Maybe."
The hybrid chewed, swallowed, and reached for more. "Can you think of a better one?"
"How about just Plenty?"
"Plenty . . ."
"Yeah, it's sort of half your name. And it can mean many things. Plenty of hate, of course. And it can mean plenty of love. Plenty of compassion. Plenty of friendship."
The hybrid shrugged. "It will do."
Will didn't know if that was complimentary of his suggestion or not. He made his excuses and left the brute to eat. There would be plenty of time for more conversation later, he was sure.
* * *
As yet no-one had left the Spectre, even though it was moored to Station 6.
Professor Dajani took Kingston's bishop in another devastatingly swift move. He set it to one side, next to the board.
"You're steadily losing everyone, Doctor," he said.
Kingston bit her tongue. She made her move – nothing that was going to change the galaxy as she knew it. But it did get her one step closer to taking back her King . . .
"When will we get to leave this ship?" Dajani huffed.
Kingston glared up at him. "When it's time. You know that."
"Yes, yes, yes! But I grow tired of just sitting here. I mean, it smells on this ship. I'm not sure of what. Just something unpleasant."
"I wouldn't go telling them that. They're very proud of this little tub."
"Little dustbin more like it . . ." Dajani mumbled under his breath.
"Well, trust me, Professor. Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to get some distance from the likes of you," Kingston said, walking out of the room.
"Doctor?" Dajani watched her go. "Is it something I said?"
* * *
Captain Shaw sipped his coffee. He watched as other ships docked alongside the station, and for the briefest of moments, his mind wandered to the casino on the promenade.
Forget it, bud. You've been in enough trouble of late.
At that thought, he swallowed what he had in his mouth, and it no longer tasted like coffee. More like mud. Warm and gritty. He put the cup down, pulling a face. He still ached all over, but he was healing and that was the main thing.
And he wasn't gambling.
"Penny for yer thoughts?" Punk asked, walking onto the bridge.
"Oh, you know. Just going over everything. Will tell you I wanted to see you?"
Punk nodded. "Yeah, he didn't say what for though."
"I want you to program the Klexu emitters we're carrying."
The Alpor frowned. "I've never done that before."
"You saying you can't do it?"
"I didn't say that, did I? I said I've not done it before. There's a difference."
"Right. So can you?"
He shrugged. "With a little work, yeah. What's the thinking?"
Shaw tapped the side of his nose. "You'll see. Figure out how to get into their coding, and I'll tell you what I want."
"When do you want them by?"
"Yesterday?"
Punk rolled his eyes and started walking. "Guess I better start now then, eh?"
Shaw smiled and watched him go, then he turned back to the viewscreen. He watched the side of the station turn against the backdrop of the stars, and the myriad ships travelling back and forth from it. Despite everything, he still couldn't stop thinking about that casino. That wheel going round and around. Red, black, red, black . . .
6.
The Intrepid was eerily quiet with the power lowered to such an extent. Chief Kolvin quite liked it, though. He was used to doing his best work in a chaotic environment, so whenever he could experience peace, he savoured it. The ship slept around him as he oversaw the last of the repairs to the energy shield. Chip lifted a burned out converter as if it were a block of Styrofoam, not two tonnes of metal, he carried in his arms.
"That's it, boys and girls. Last few connecting cables . . . yeah, that one goes there, Smithy . . . no, Laura, red to blue. Yeah, that's it," Kolvin said, bent over, hands on his knees, watching everything they were doing. For most of them, the Intrepid's maiden journey was a training cruise, a real-life version of theoretical situations they'd all faced over and over in the simulators back at the Academy.
To say they'd performed admirably, given their lack of experience in the field, would have been an understatement. Kolvin hand picked each and every member of his team, and knew he had the crème de la crème when it came to engineering graduates. After all, he'd taught most of them.
Power flooded into the converter, and the men and women squatting in front of it let out a little cheer before bolting the wall panel back into place.
"That's it."
Chip cocked his head to one side.
"The pleasures of having a new ship. Everything takes half the time to fix."
"Amen to that!" one of the women – Traxler – chirped in.
Kolvin raised a white, bushy eyebrow at her and walked to the comm. panel on the wall. "Captain, this is the Chief. We have made all necessary repairs. We're in good shape."
"Thank you, Chief, I'll see you on the bridge."
* * *
Lisa showered, changed her clothes, grabbed a bowl of hot broth from the officer's mess, and felt like a real person again. Waiting to hear from the Chief, she'd decided to retire to her quarters and enjoy a pot of good Lapsang Souchong. Brewed as she would have had it as a child, at the dinner table. She sat on her sofa, feet up on the table in front, and sipped from the cup. It was hot, smoky tea, and in the dark quiet of her quarters, she felt completely relaxed. Hard to think that not long before the Intrepid had been in a full-blown battle with the Namar.
But there it was.
The taste of the tea reminded her of her childhood as much as it reminded her of her parents, of the night when she'd gone out with a group of other students from the Academy and introduced them to real Asian food, the kind they couldn't get from a supermarket. How they wrinkled their noses and pulled faces at the taste of the tea – to her it was restorative.
She thought of Olivia and it hurt that she couldn't contact her.
But I'll see you soon.
The door to her quarters chirped. "Come in!"
Doctor Gentry bounded in, his hands held in front of him, fingers fluttering nervously. "I need to speak with you."
"Doctor, you look unhinged. Take a seat," Chang said. She got up, raised the lights – though just a little. It looked as though the last thing Gentry needed was a sudden dose of intense illumination. She poured him a tea. He held the cup in slightly jittery hands.
He sniffed the vapour rising from the hot brew. "Ah! Lapsang Souchong!"
"You know it?"
"Of course," he scoffed.
She sat down opposite him. He seemed to settle the moment the tea entered his system. Chang couldn't deny that it had the same, instantly settling effect on her. "So what brings you to my door, Doctor?"
"I have been reviewing the data we obtained of the Array. By my calculations, we have only thirty-six hours until it is powered fully."
"And then what?"
"I theorise that it is meant to open a pathway through the fabric of space-time. By drawing on the energy of that sun, a
nd harnessing it, it will use the sun's core to create a temporal rift. A conduit from our time . . ."
Chang felt the colour drain from her face. ". . . to the heyday of the Namar. She's bringing them here, isn't she?"
He slurped his tea. It went down with a nervous gulp.
Chang got up, used her comm. panel. "This is the Captain. Ensign Gordon, Commander Banks, Lieutenant Oriz, Chief Kolvin, return to the bridge immediately."
She headed for the door, turned to find Gentry still sitting there. Lisa Chang snapped her fingers at him. "Come on! We've got probes to launch."
* * *
The probes exited the side of the Intrepid and travelled at great speed through the darkness cast by the ends of the asteroid. After making it past the debris, they split and headed in opposite directions. One to the left, one to the right. The Intrepid carried many different probes, and these were the hardiest sort. Specially designed to withstand extreme pressures, intense heat, unbelievably low temperatures. There was a good chance that, once in position to view the Amarax, the probes would be seen. They were not small. However the same sensors and scans that would monitor the Amarax from afar would also detect the movement of hostile ships coming the Intrepid's way.
"Time until they're in position?" Chang asked. She paced, knowing she shouldn't, but not able to stick to one spot and wait it out.
It was enough to think they were up against the might hidden inside the Amarax, let alone a fleet from the past.
"Minutes. Then we'll know," Gentry told her. "I did not intend on startling you earlier, Captain."
"I know you didn't. But I could see you looked spooked, and it's no wonder why."
As the Doctor was preparing the probes for immediate release, Chang had quickly briefed those on the bridge about the situation.
"Still no word from command," Oriz said.
"Are they even hearing us?" Banks asked.
Dana shrugged and gave a worried look that said: I don't know.
"Keep trying," Chang told her. "We don't have any other choice."
"Starting to get rudimentary telemetry now," Gentry said.
"On screen."
The viewscreen shifted to a split-screen display of both probes' sensor data. It built rapidly, as each sweep of their sensors added another layer of detail. It was like watching two prints develop in trays of water. "Merging the data streams," Gentry said, the two sides of the screen moving toward each other until they were not just overlaid, but merged to become one big image.
Every rock, every giant lump of planetary mass, was clearly defined. Dr. Gentry zeroed in on the location of the Amarax, and the spider web-like construct next to it. The sheer scale of the mesh was impressive enough, when compared with the awesome size of the Amarax itself. But the readings coming off of it were even more impressive.
"Does any of that make sense to you?" Chang asked Dr. Gentry. "I've never encountered data like it."
"Oh, I have," Gentry said with visible distaste. He swirled his mouth around as if he were about to spit poison. "The Sun Hammer. The most destructive weapon ever created. A deplorable device. This is very similar in terms of the energy it consumes for its reaction."
"I remember the Sun Hammer," Chang said. "Hardly our finest hour. All those lives snuffed out at the press of a button."
Banks frowned. "Didn't Captain King tell us that the Sun Hammer tech was derived from Namarian relics in the first place?"
Chang nodded. "She did."
"It is as I feared," Gentry said. "They intend on opening a conduit through the heart of that sun, stretching back to the mists of time."
"How long? Like you predicted?"
"No. Less time. In twenty-eight hours the Array will be ready to use," he got up, walked to the front as he spoke. "As it stores more power, the lattice work becomes a conductor for the energy of the sun, which will flux between the two of them at an ever increasing rate. Until the connection is made, until the door to the past is opened."
"Then what?" Banks asked.
Gentry turned around. "The End."
Chang turned to Dana. "I want you to record what I say and send it on repeat. We'll risk detection to get this through. It might be our only chance at getting some form of backup."
7.
Funny how you grow accustomed to a prison cell.
Jessica Chang stood from her bunk at the sound of someone entering the detention area, their boots clipping along the corridor toward her cell.
I've had time to think, I've had a chance to reconsider my actions. There's not a single thing I'd do differently. This is the right course.
There was a small mirror on the wall and she glanced at it. Strange to see herself in an orange jumpsuit, and not her familiar uniform. Here, in detention, she was simply Jessica King, sans the Captain part. A part of it felt awful. It felt like the biggest kick in the guts you could give somebody.
But the other part? It felt liberating.
A man in sharp attire presented himself on the other side of the force field. "Jessica King?"
"Are you my counsel?"
"I am. Larry Tirn. I'd offer to shake your hand, but . . ."
Jessica sat back on her bunk. So it wasn't anything important. "You can go. I don't want to waste your time, Mister Tirn."
He frowned, head slightly cocked to one side. "Sorry?"
"I know I had to be assigned a counsel by law, but I'm within my rights to dismiss you at my own discretion. That's what I'm doing."
She lay down, hands on her midsection, gazing up at the featureless ceiling.
"I strongly advise against this course of action," Larry Tirn told her. "You will face your court martial on your own. No one there to help you."
"I can present my own evidence, in my defence. Correct?"
He shrugged. "I guess. But–"
"Thanks for the free advice. Now please leave me to my peace and quiet. I'm starting to like it."
Tirn walked off in a huff, muttering abuse under his breath. Just when she thought he was gone, he walked back. "You'll regret facing that court martial on your own, King. I guarantee it. No one has the balls to face one without some kind of representation."
She didn't say anything.
"Have it your way," Tirn spat. This time he left for real.
Jessica grinned. Knowing what was coming, she should have been panicking, sweating over what might come of her. But the truth was, she didn't care. She had evidence that there was wrongdoing on behalf of her superiors, and not just digital records, either. Real live people.
In the cell she'd had time to go over every detail. Now she was more sure than ever of what she was about to do.
* * *
The first faces she spotted were those of Admiral Cantrell and Admiral Jameson. Then her eyes settled on Admiral Kerrick. While both Cantrell and Jameson stood to greet her, Kerrick remained seated.
"Captain," Admiral Cantrell said. He indicated the chair in front of them. "Take a seat."
Jessica did as instructed, all the while her gaze remained fixed on Kerrick, and his on her.
Cantrell and Jameson sat back down behind the long desk. Jessica glanced over her shoulder at the guards by the entrance, the armed officer stood to the side of the Admirals. She looked up, at the security monitoring equipment.
I didn't come here to run. I came here to reveal the truth. She looked at Kerrick. He must be wondering why we handed ourselves in. He must be wondering what we have on him. If we'd been captured, we'd have never faced a court martial. Or any other kind of trial. It wouldn't have got that far.
No one can question you when you're vaporised.
Admiral Jameson looked down at his notes. "Captain Jessica King, are you fit to proceed with this hearing into your actions?"
"Mentally and physically, sir."
"You don't wish to have a consultation with a medical professional before we proceed?"
She shook her head. "No sir."
"Okay. I think you'll understand I have to a
sk that. Likewise, I want to note for the record your refusal of counsel. Does that decision still stand, Captain?"
"It does. I stand alone."
Jameson looked up. "Very well. Let us begin."
8.
The old saying goes: leave no stone unturned. Cantrell, Jameson, and Kerrick started at the beginning. Her assignment to investigate the Enigma. Her battle with Cessqa. Stealing the Defiant. Everything. They went back to the past, to the death of Andrew Singh. Back even further, to their involvement with the Sun Hammer. Their questions were wide-ranging, intrusive, and everything she'd expected them to be.
They followed the old saying to the letter.
Jessica sipped water from a glass, her mouth dry from answering so many questions. She figured she'd been in the room for close to three hours.
"I think that's all for now. Unless you have something to add, Captain?" Jameson asked.
She shook her head. "Not right now, Admiral."
"We'll take a short recess and reconvene in five minutes. After that, we'll allow you to make a fifteen minute statement."
"Admiral, I will be making use of article three-ninety-seven, statute ten. I have several pieces of evidence I need to present."
Jameson glanced across at Kerrick. "I don't have any objections."
Kerrick's mouth twisted into a tight knot as Admiral Cantrell said the same. Then the two of them were looking directly at him.
"Go ahead," he spat.
Jameson stood. "Five minutes."
Jessica remained seated as Cantrell and Jameson filed past. Kerrick fixed her with his cruel, sharp eyes. He waited until his colleagues had left. "Evidence, Captain?"
She didn't answer him.
"Keep it to yourself, then. But none of it will help you. You are a criminal, Jessica King. Nothing more."
She glared at him, but managed to keep her mouth clamped shut.
Kerrick smirked. "You're a traitor to the Union. Like Grimshaw before you."
"Shut your dirty mouth."
