by Nick Webb
“I know only that they will not destroy the flagship.” Nhean’s gave an elegant shrug. “I am not a military commander. I did not ask for their tactics.”
“They’ll be good,” Pike promised him. “When we were kids—” His voice failed him unexpectedly and he finished quickly, “she was good even then.”
The girl had appeared at his side at some point, a silent witness. He saw her hands clench as the flagship loomed larger in the windows. The closer they got, the more jarringly massive it was.
“Where did they hide it?” Pike whispered. “How could we not have seen—”
“How do you know no one did?” There were white lines around Nhean’s nose. “Why would anyone comment on it if they did? The Telestines were never prohibited from building weaponry or a fleet. Even if a few lone ships passed through the wrong region of the asteroid belt during a strange alignment, who would the humans out there tell? Who would they think to tell? Of course, that’s assuming they weren’t shot on sight.”
“If Tel’rabim had been shooting down human ships.... ” But his outrage trailed away into weariness. Who would have stopped Tel’rabim? Who would have even thought to ask if it were him? Ships were lost all the time out in the black. Humanity was new to space, and space was famously unforgiving of both mistakes and bad luck. No one would even think to ask questions if some of the lost cargo haulers and transport ships had stumbled across things they were not meant to see.
The flagship was so close now that he could see the patterned markings on its black hull. A wing of fighters soared past them, human made: protection for the shuttle and its irreplaceable cargo. There were no cockpits that Pike could see, and he had a memory of Walker spinning in the very center of Johnson Station, head dropped back, hair floating, her fingers dancing as she composed battles only she could see.
He swallowed against the lump rising in his throat and his fingers closed around the barrel of his rifle.
Today, they would end this. There would be no more Walkers, dreaming of a re-conquered Earth. There would be no more William Pikes, ushered onto shuttles by fathers who had numbly accepted the loss of their families.
The sound of the hull clamp was jarring, and all of them stumbled.
“It’s time.” Pike’s voice surprised him. He said to Nhean, “I’ll go set the charges.”
Nhean only nodded.
At the door, Pike turned back for a moment. Nhean was contemplative in his fury. Like Walker, apparently, he had learned to feed on it. The girl, he thought, was new to all of this. Her hands were clenched, her spine ramrod straight. Pike stared at her for a moment, silhouetted against the elegant hull of Tel’rabim’s flagship, before he turned to make his way to the cargo bay.
Today, they would end this.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Mercury
Bridge, Venus Fleet Ship Resurgence
“They’ve reached the flagship, ma’am.” Larsen swiveled in his chair. “Should I open a line to all ships?”
“Please.” Walker waited for his nod before pitching her voice to carry to the comm unit on the desk. “All ships, this is the admiral. Remember our target. Remember your orders, which ships to hit and which not to hit. Yet.” She spoke carefully, not wanting her meaning to be picked up by the Telestines.
She paused. Her eyes fixed on the Telestine fleet, glowing faintly on the holographic display. Their carriers and destroyers whipped back and forth in formations designed to destroy the human ships that were now coming at them from both sides. Even predators have an underbelly to slice. They may have forgotten, but we have remembered.
“The battle that is coming will be long.” Her voice sounded distant. “We have been made exiles in our own land. We have been hunted almost to extinction. We have been given a slow death sentence. Today we launch the first strike to end our captivity. Today, we begin to make humanity anew. It is a new dawn.”
“We are facing an enemy who has pretended to be our friend, who has pretended to speak for us. He has used our trust and our friendship to learn our weaknesses, and he hopes to kill us all in the dark blackness of our makeshift homes.”
“Today, we show him that he does not know the first thing about betrayal. We show him that humans are more cunning and more terrifying than he could have imagined. Today, we show him that we are not prey, but predators, and that our retaliation will begin the end of him and his kind. The Telestines came to take our home with superior technology, and with superior force. Over those years, they have made only one mistake: we lived.”
“Today, they pay for that mistake with everything they have. Take their future from them.”
She heard the cheer go up on two dozen bridges as she cut the line. Larsen was staring at her, a boy again, listening to her speeches on the station. For a moment she thought he might contradict her.
“They should never have let us live,” he said finally.
She nodded, and pressed the button to reopen the channel.
“Commander Delaney, are you ready?”
“Aye-aye, ma’am.” She could hear the grim certainty in his voice.
“Very good. Commander King, keep your forces ready to swing. All units begin formation. Walker out.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she watched it unfold. Nhean’s ships—no, her ships, her gorgeous new ships, slid down in an elegant curve under the bulk of the Telestine fleet, and Delaney’s ancient Exile Fleet, ugly and lumbering, nonetheless danced through the swarm of carriers and fighters to do the same.
Walker wondered if it pained the Telestines to lose ships to something so ugly, so inelegant, as the first Exile Fleet.
The Telestines had thought that if they removed the memory of war from humanity, they would be safe. They had never realized that humanity carried war in its very DNA. They had not understood one vital fact: a weapon was not simply a machine made for the purpose of killing. Anything could be a weapon—and for humanity, anything was.
Tel’rabim’s fleet scattered and reformed into a new formation. It was like the flight of birds, the way Pike had once described it to her. The ships split their focus, trying to drop onto the plane of battle Walker and Delaney had created, and finding themselves in the line of fire of their own ships.
“All fighter wings, engage.” Walker felt the satisfaction in her voice. “Stay out of the line of fire and....” She paused. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the screen. Was the flagship turning?
“Ma’am, the flagship is—”
“I see it.” Walker cut off Larsen. His voice was high and panicked, and she gave him a look. “Stay with me.” Her fingers danced over the keys. “It’s facing our group, yes?”
“‘Facing’ is a—”
“Yes or no, Larsen? Tell me where the cannons are!”
“They can move—all the way around. They’re aiming.”
Walker swore. “Delaney, split your team. Get out of the direct line of fire of that flagship, we’re trying to—”
“They’re firing!”
But it was too late. The shot slammed into the Resurgence, a bolt of energy around a metal core that buckled the hull and ripped it open. Stars burst against her vision as Walker was thrown against the back wall. Could she hear screaming? Was it her own?
“Gunnery is venting!” Larsen shouted. Soon, he was crawling to Walker’s side. “Admiral?!”
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Walker pushed herself up on his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. The world was tilting. “We have—we have to get out of the way. We can’t take another hit.”
The floor buckled beneath her feet and she froze.
“Bridge sealed,” announced an AI voice.
Both of them turned, slowly, to the technical readouts.
What had been a ship was now a husk. The engineering decks were shredded, the cannons were gone. She could only assume the skeleton crew was all dead, or dying.
“Walker!” Delaney’s voice came clear on the radios. “Walker, get out
of there!” His voice was distant. “All batteries fire, draw their attention! They cannot be allowed to take out the admiral’s ship, do you hear me? Protect the Resurgence at all costs!”
Her fingers clenched around the desk. She took a moment to marshal her thoughts. One must always take a moment to think before acting out of fear. When the room went dark, she looked up at the single window. She expected to see a Telestine ship hovering over them like a bird of prey, but it was the shadow of Mercury itself.
She straightened her shoulders.
Let instinct be your guide. Her fingers began to move through the holograph. Her ship groaned in complaint as near-crippled engines and thrusters tried to maneuver, and the other ships of Nhean’s fleet moved forward to cover her.
She was the only one who could direct all of them. She had to survive at least long enough to cover for Pike’s team.
“Life support systems experiencing Grade II failure,” the AI informed them.
“Is that better or worse than Grade I?” Larsen asked acidly. The AI did not respond.
Walker began to laugh. She laughed as they fell back, as the other ships engaged, and then she stilled herself and opened a channel again. She could feel the cold from the darkness now. Life support was failing, and they were sliding ever further into Mercury’s shadow. “Here’s the real question: should I try to get us out of the shadow so we can boil to death instead of freeze?”
“Let me get back to you on that one.”
Neither of them were smiling, but at least they were trying for humor, and it was enough to keep them going. They didn’t even have to keep going very long, either: just long enough for Pike’s team. Long enough for the Dawning to do her work. That was all.
“All ships, this is the admiral. Don’t worry, the damage looks worse than it is. Focus on your mission. Forget about the Resurgence.”
Larsen’s head whipped around and she gave a sharp shake of her head. Delaney and King could not be distracted by fear now. Now was the time for cold, rational decisions, and Walker intended to enable that.
“Everyone mark the position of that cannon. Should it aim, make evasion your primary tactic—none of the Exile Fleet ships can survive a direct hit from that thing.” Her eyes caught a hint of movement on the screen. “King, what are you doing?”
“Shielding you, ma’am.” King’s voice was composed. “Your ships have superior firepower to mine. They must survive as long as possible.”
“King—”
“Ma’am, you know—”
“I know that we need to protect the shipyards.” Walker’s voice was sharp. Fear squeezed around her heart, and she knew she could not let King hear that.
Don’t be seduced by fear. Was it best for King to take the hits?
No. It was best for King’s fighters, human and able to spot the tiny shifts in the arrangement of the Telestine fleet, to be the first line of defense against any ships dropping toward the planet.
“I need you to keep formation,” Walker said crisply. She was shivering now; the blood on the back of her head was cooling quickly. She touched her hair and her fingers came away wet. Could she smell smoke? “You’ll need to keep the ships from breaking my formation and going to the shipyards. King, every chance we have of rebuilding is on Mercury. We cannot let those facilities be destroyed. We’ll handle the flagship.”
There was a pause.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Larsen swiveled in his chair to point to a private comm line that was flashing.
“King?”
He nodded.
Walker picked the phone up. “Listen to me.”
“Walker….” King sounded afraid. “I can see your ship. Your life-support is out.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Walker said quietly. Her teeth were nearly chattering now, and she pressed her hand over the receiver to mute the noise of the AI’s pre-recorded dire warnings. “We’re all right. Just do your job.”
A pause.
“Yes, ma’am.” King cut the line.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Mercury, High Orbit
Telestine Flagship
The charges went off with a blast that sent them staggering back from the walls.
Pike was the first to move. Nhean watched from behind one of the iron columns as the Earther went to check his handiwork. The man examined the debris carefully before nodding in satisfaction.
“We’re through the hull and the seal is holding. We need to move now, before they can vent the area—or get a team up here. Everyone take cover.”
They had already dragged the ship’s furniture into the docking bay and Pike’s crewmates took up position, rifles lying along the tops of the furniture. Klaxons wailed as the doors began to open. Howie peered down the length of his rifle’s barrel. Gabriela swung hers back and forth over the hole in the Telestine flagship’s hatch. James looked like he was praying, silently mouthing the words as he fingered his trigger.
Despite himself, Nhean felt a flicker of interest. He had never paid attention to the petty matters of smuggling and piracy, secure in the knowledge of his own weaponry and supply routes. In any case, piracy was a matter of supply and demand, numbers on paper, a hazard to be accounted for; he had not bothered to think of it in terms of bullets and human lives, breathless fear and the hunt.
But there was a practiced air to the Aggy’s crew, and it was impossible not to be drawn into the moment. The betrayal of the Rebellion soldier, the makeshift rifles—humanity was, indeed, devouring itself.
It always had been, he supposed. Only now they faced an enemy even more deadly than humanity.
He knew he was only trying to keep from thinking of what would happen when the Telestines finally responded to the boarding attempt. Nhean was no soldier. He could manipulate fleets and distant supply routes with detachment, but it was surprisingly uncomfortable to watch other humans take up arms while he huddled in the shadow of a doorway.
The girl had moved to shield him with her body. Her fingers tightened around the grip of a pistol and she nodded reassuringly at him. You’re safe. I will protect you.
“No,” Nhean murmured. His voice hardly registered against the clank of the doors. He hesitated, and then he drew out the computer chip and pressed it against her palm. “You will figure out how to deploy it,” he assured her. He took her shoulders to move her into the shadows, his body out. It was a meaningless gesture; one human body would stop almost nothing in the way of Telestine weaponry.
It was still important. It was a choice. For once, he couldn’t shield them with data or information, so his frail body would have to do. He pressed close as the sound of footsteps caught their ears.
The first shots were human. He knew that sound, at least. Five bursts—he couldn’t help but count them—before a new sound shot past him and embedded itself in the door behind them. Nhean jumped and swore, and the girl gasped suddenly.
“Don’t be frightened,” Nhean murmured. There was no point. It would help nothing.
They held one another and shook as the bullets flew outside, their hands clasped.
A yell of pain came from deeper in the cargo hold.
“We have to move!” Pike’s voice was ragged. “That was one group, and there will be more on the way. If we don’t get out now, we’ll be trapped here.”
The girl was the one to move, dragging Nhean out.
“Which way out of the doors?” Pike asked.
The girl pointed left.
He nodded. “James, Gabi, you swing right and set up a rearguard. Howie, you and I will go first.”
All four hefted their weapons and began to move. They were practiced; Nhean caught a flicker of gestures rippling through the air as James and Gabriela disappeared from view.
“Clear!” A call from their direction.
“Clear!” Pike’s voice. “Come on!”
The girl dragged Nhean forward and into the alien corridors.
There were no words for the discomfort. H
e had not been made for this ship. It was his enemy’s home, in spirit if not in body. Tel’rabim had pretended friendship, and all the while he had been planning humanity’s annihilation.
It was a thought one felt clinically, because it was too large for emotion. Nhean stumbled and was pulled to his knees while Pike advanced. The corridors curved around the top of the flagship, leading inward....
His mouth was dry. His heart was pounding now. He could not do this, he was not the soldier.
“Move—move.” Pike hauled at him. “Go, go, go. Howie!”
“They’re coming behind, cowboy!” James’s call was half roar. “Go, we’ll hold them off!”
A burst of gunfire, and a woman’s yell. “Go, guapo, go!”
“Come on!” Pike shoved Nhean forward. “Howie, anything up there?”
The only answer was a burst of gunfire. They pounded around the curve, following in Pike’s wake, and found Howie crouched behind a corner at a cross corridor. Gunfire was peppering the back wall and he leaned out to shoot before reloading.
“I’ll cover you as much as I can. Go. Get across.” He tossed a look over his shoulder, pointing to the cross-corridor.
Nhean froze, but Pike’s grip was like a vise. “Ready?”
From behind them, gunfire and another scream. Gabriela, he thought. Ahead of them, Pike burst across the opening, shielding the girl running beside him. She threw herself to safety behind the far corner and Pike skidded behind cover a split second after. He was grinning, a feral grin.
“Took out two! Three coming behind them!” Howie yelled.
“I’ll cover you! Grab him!” Pike pointed to Nhean. Howie reached back, grabbed him, and propelled him into motion across the opening as Pike put down cover fire.
He didn’t remember it later. It passed without thought—he acted on instinct alone. He ran and he heard the bullets go past; the air burned with them, a hot, dry wind. He ran for safety and he hit the curving wall without feeling it. His whole body was trembling.
