by B. V. Larson
“So, the rest of our crew wasn’t hurt?”
“That was clearly implied by my last statement. Are you feeling all right?”
“No,” I admitted. “I’m feeling like half-raw bacon. But do go on. How long was I out? Where’s everyone else?”
“Miller assumed command. He stepped off the bridge to get the injured to Medical.”
I looked around. Apparently, Miller had seen fit to rescue me last. Maybe he’d been hoping that delaying care in my case would turn into a happy ending for everyone.
“All right, thank you, Abrams,” I said, leaning with searing pain over my console.
I could have engaged a private channel with my sym—but chose not to. Instead, I cleared my throat and put on my most normal-sounding tone. Then I engaged the PA system and made a ship-wide announcement.
“Good work, everyone!” I boomed, even though every word hurt. “This is your Captain speaking. Let me be the first to congratulate everyone on a job well done. Hammerhead has met her first Imperial warship in a fair fight and come away with a clean win. Captain Blake, out.”
Abrams stared at me, squinting his eyes. “That was an odd thing to do,” he said. “I thought you were going to call Miller back to his station on the bridge.”
My mouth pulled into a strained smile. My side was hurting more every minute.
“Watch,” I said, “keep quiet, and maybe you’ll learn something about human nature, Doc.”
He shut up, which was more than I’d hoped for. About thirty seconds later I heard someone in the passage outside the bridge.
Spinning in my command chair, I looked at the entrance and tried to straighten up and look relaxed. I almost managed it, but stayed hunched to the left with my hand over my liver.
“Blake?” Miller demanded, staring at me. “You’re up and around?”
“Apparently,” I said, giving him a bullshit smile. I felt like crap.
“Good—no, that’s great!”
We smiled at each other with false intentions for about two seconds. Then Abrams, who’d been studying this entire exchange, spoke up.
“I don’t think I learned anything, Captain,” he said.
“You will, you will,” I said smoothly, turning back to him. “The next time I fire this big gun, I want no feedback. Whether we’re in normal space or not, we can’t afford another screw up like this.”
“No…” Abrams said, “that’s not what I—”
“Dismissed, Doctor. Please produce a full report. You have one hour to do so. In the meantime, Miller and I have things to discuss.”
Abrams opened his mouth, then closed it again and left. I wasn’t sure if he knew that I was trying to throw Miller off—and I wasn’t sure how much I cared, either. It was good enough to see his lab coat flapping as he retreated down the passageway.
I spun the chair around toward Miller again. That hurt, but I wanted to look stronger than I was. It was an instinct I’d developed while serving among the Kher. You had to look tough at all times, or they’d gang up and dog-pile you.
“We have an appointment with Admiral Fex, don’t you think?” I asked Miller.
“Would that be wise now?” he asked. “With you in such bad shape, and—”
“I’m feeling fine. Something must have hit me and knocked me out, that’s all.”
“Yeah, about three hundred rads worth of gamma rays!”
“How much did you get?” I asked him.
He displayed his right pinkie finger, which was several shades darker and swollen enough to match his thumb in circumference. “Not much. Highly localized. Listen… Blake, I want to apologize for leaving you up here with the bodies. It’s just that we had to triage medical care, and you—”
“No need to explain that,” I said, throwing up a hand to stop him.
“Excellent. I must say, you’re taking all this extremely well.”
“One mission, two shots, two kills—what’s not to like about that record?” I asked him. “Yes, I’m feeling very good about this trip—but unfortunately, there is the critical matter of your mistakes to discuss.”
Miller looked honestly shocked. I’m sure he thought he was some kind of hero.
“Mistakes?” he asked. “Like what?”
“Like leaving your post while this ship is in hostile territory. I was incapacitated, however briefly. This ship’s crew is small, but someone should have been left in charge of the watch up here.”
“Oh… that. I’m sorry Blake. Won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” I said, “because I’m making Gwen my XO, effective immediately.”
He stared, open-mouthed. “Surely you can’t be serious?”
“Why not?”
“She’s not qualified. She’s never commanded anything, much less an experimental spacecraft!”
“Neither have you, as far as I can see. Dismissed, Miller.”
“Blake…”
“Dismissed. Go back to Medical and make sure my people heal up and return to their posts as soon as possible. Oh—and remove these bodies, will you?”
He sputtered a bit, but at last, he left.
=30=
Gwen’s reaction to my change in the bridge roster surprised me: she was angry about it.
“You’re heartless,” she complained. “Miller just lost two friends, two of his original flight crew. Both Mackel and Henderson are gone. How would you feel if Dalton and Samson had died in the attack instead?”
My mind immediately conjured up a rude response about finding some level of pleasure in such a loss—but I didn’t say it out loud. Partly because it would make Gwen flip out, and partly because it wasn’t true.
Samson and Dalton were assholes at times—especially Dalton—but I didn’t want to see either of them die.
Gwen watched these thoughts travel through my mind. She crossed her arms and glared at me.
“Are you reconsidering?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “You’re my XO now. I know you’ll do a good job, and you’re loyal. But I’ll try to mend fences with Miller.”
She still didn’t like it, but she was somewhat mollified.
The next shift started with tension and hurt feelings palpable on the bridge. Was I screwing up? I’d been an officer in the Navy for years, but flying a plane around wasn’t anything like commanding a vessel with seventy-odd people aboard. This felt a lot more complicated.
Fortunately, I knew that the first job of any officer in a tough spot was to make decisions firmly. If you wavered, it would only damage morale. A decisive officer on a warship that made questionable choices—as long as they weren’t disastrous—was better than one that dithered and second-guessed everything he did.
When we stepped onto the bridge, Miller left my chair without a word. He didn’t even look at us. Could it be he was hurt? I tried not to care—but I did to some extent.
“Crew,” I said, “we’ve suffered two hard losses—but we’re still breathing. The Imperials who came here to destroy us are all dead. I want no recriminations about how that battle played out—not from anyone.”
I had Miller’s attention now. He was looking at my feet, head turned in my direction. But he still wasn’t looking me in the eye.
“We’ll hold a service and bury our dead in space at the end of this shift. In the meantime, we’ll move back toward the station and confront Admiral Fex.”
“Is that the wisest course of action, Blake?” Miller asked.
It was right then that I noticed Miller had never, not once, referred to me as “Captain.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” I asked. “We’re stuck out here, Miller. The only ship in this system with a star drive is Killer, and she’s docked at the battle station. Fex might not be on our side, but he’s not yet dared to move openly. I doubt he’d get away with firing on this ship even if he could get his gunners to do it.”
“I would suggest a modification of the plan,” Miller responded. “Let’s sit here, phase back into normal
space, and contact both Fex and Ursahn. We’re out of range of their guns at the moment. Let’s come to some kind of agreement before we dock again.”
I thought that over, and I nodded. “That’s a good approach,” I said. “Ursahn will know the score. She won’t tolerate an open stab in the back from Fex.”
Miller nodded, and he went back to his control panel, checking settings on the phasing unit. He placed his hands over the instruments and looked at me expectantly.
“Kill the field,” I ordered. “Let’s become visible.”
We appeared in normal space. The wreckage of the Imperial ship drifted less than a thousand miles off. We probed it with active sensors, looking for life. There was none.
Ursahn stopped jamming transmission frequencies once she saw us. She contacted me privately using her sym.
“Captain Blake?” she asked. “I’m surprised—although I shouldn’t be. When I saw the debris of a phase-ship appear in normal space, I’d immediately suspected the worst case scenario. But still, I held out hope.”
“I’m glad to see you too, sir,” I said. “But there are serious issues to discuss. We were attacked by an Imperial phase-ship. That ship evidently had inside information—”
“Yes,” she said, interrupting me, “we also have many questions. Here’s what I recommend: we should gather here, aboard Killer. You, me, and Admiral Fex.”
“Neutral ground… All right. Can you make the arrangements?”
“I already have, in case you made it back from that ghostly state your ship lingers within.”
“Okay. We’re coming in. Could you send us a fighter escort?”
She hesitated. I was able to visualize her on my retina, due to the nature of sym-to-sym contact. She looked stressed but thoughtful. That was all I could read of her mood, as her species was somewhat alien to me.
“All right,” she said. “I understand you’ve suffered damage. Wait there for my fighters.”
I hadn’t said anything about damage. Maybe she was just covering her ass. That was unusually sophisticated—one might almost say tricky—for a predator. Could it be I was rubbing off on her?
We both signed off, and we waited. The battle station didn’t transmit anything. There were no incoming orders regarding our situation. Not even traffic control contacted me.
“What does it mean?” Gwen asked, fidgeting at her new post.
I glanced at her. “They aren’t sure what to do,” I said. “We weren’t supposed to be alive at this point.”
“Either that,” Dalton chimed in, “or they know exactly what they have planned for us, and they’re waiting to spring it.”
No one responded to his suggestion. It was an undeniable possibility.
At last, Ursahn’s fighters arrived. It had taken them nearly an hour. We fired up our engines and glided toward Killer with all our meager defenses up.
It was a hard thing to do. Dalton was sweating at the helm, bent over the controls with shoulders hunched. He was tense and I didn’t blame him.
But the truth was, if Fex had the balls to blast us with his main guns out of the blue, there would be little we could do. Phase-ships were meant to sneak into weak spots and attack hard, using surprise as our primary weapon. They weren’t built to take a punch.
“Miller,” I said, “keep your hands on that phasing system. Dalton, if we get even a hint—”
“I know the drill. We’ll swing off in a random direction, then shift course again and accelerate when we’ve phased out. I doubt we’ll have the time, but it’s worth a try.”
It took us nearly an hour to reach Killer’s side. By that time, everyone was sweating and no one was making jokes.
Traffic control had only contacted us twice, exchanging mundane information. That was all we’d gotten out of the battle station.
How far did this plot go? I had to wonder. We weren’t well-liked, despite the fact we’d done so much to defeat the Imperials the last time around. That might seem crazy, but the Rebel Kher had their reasons. We’d embarrassed the Imperials, so much so they’d come back 998 years early to tear up this region of the galaxy all over again.
When we were docked at last, I walked to the tubes. Miller and Samson were with me—there was no way I wanted to suffer “an accident” on the way to this fateful meeting.
=31=
We reached the command deck without incident. Sure, there had been a few hopefuls hanging around the docking tube, but when they saw I was moving with an armed guard and I wore a four-sided officer’s emblem, they stepped aside.
There were limits to moving up and down in ranks within the Rebel Kher hierarchy. It wasn’t permissible to assault a senior officer who was more than one rank above you. You weren’t supposed to abuse subordinates, either, but that could be done easily enough with surrogates.
Suspecting just such a move, I watched the lieutenants we encountered closely. Anyone with a triangle on his shoulder had a lot to gain by putting me on the deck.
Still, we made it to Ursahn’s quarters without incident. I almost relaxed—but reminded myself that would be unwise.
Fex was already there when I stepped inside, leaving my escort at the entrance.
The admiral gawked at them, then hooted with laughter. Like many primates, his laugh was loud and irritating. I could hear the screeches of his home forest in that laughter.
“You brought guards?” he snorted. “Embarrassing. Ursahn and I are so far above you in rank, we wouldn’t stoop to taking you out, Blake. Don’t you know that?”
“Of course, Admiral,” I lied smoothly. “These men came along to fend off certain ambitious lower-ranked officers. That’s why they’re standing outside now.”
I found an empty stump and sat on it. Ursahn squatted on hers. Only her eyes were moving, as she typically displayed an economy of motion. Her bent-forward neck was wide, and muscular cords stood out on it.
“Can we get to business?” she asked.
“Certainly,” Fex said, looking amused. “We were discussing your next mission, Blake. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Alarm bells went off inside my head. First, Fex seemed happy. Second, Ursahn didn’t. Neither of these realities boded well.
“What mission?” I asked in a conversational tone.
“The automated Hunter has been spotted nearby. It’s most unfortunate, but it’s chosen a star system fairly near to our location—one that Ursahn had planned to jump to within a week’s time.”
I frowned. “What planet?”
“I believe it’s called Ral,” Fex said, staring at me. “Do you know of it?”
Stunned for a moment, I couldn’t speak. Mia had come from Ral. The cat-like people of that world had given me a hard time during my first term of service in the Rebel Fleet, but we’d become fast friends by the end.
“I’ve heard of it,” I said. “What’s their status?”
“Terrified, I should imagine,” Fex said. “Wouldn’t you be? The Hunter isn’t very bright, but it is methodical. There are a lot of planets in their system, and it is destroying them all, starting with the farthest from the star and working inward.”
“How long do they have?”
Fex pretend to consult the ceiling. I felt a surge of hate growing in my heart. He was obviously enjoying himself immensely.
“Maybe a week,” he said. “That is, unless you two can stop that machine. What do you say? Are you up for it?”
I stared at him. “Just two ships? Haven’t entire fleets faced these things before and lost?”
Fex made a dismissive gesture, fluttering his long, hairy fingers in the air.
“The stink of cowardice? Is that what I smell? Hmm… that will cost you a lot of demerits, Blake. You might lose your command.”
His game was clear now. He was sending us off on a suicide mission. If I refused, he could demote me and pull my teeth that way. If I went, he felt sure I wouldn’t return.
I made a pretense of sniffing the air.
“I smell
something, too,” I said, “perhaps we’re both picking up your scent, Admiral. In any case, I’ll go.”
Fex seemed slightly surprised, but he nodded smoothly. “All right. What about you, Ursahn? Is Killer up to the task?”
“I’m bound by honor to say yes. It does not matter that we can’t prevail. My life in this war is already forfeit—it’s only a matter of time.”
“Well-placed stoicism can do wonders for morale,” Fex said, smiling. He stood up and stretched. “I think I’ll retire now. I’ve got a battle station to look after—and ah yes, Blake! You destroyed another Imperial vessel! That was good shooting. I can’t imagine how it snuck so close—but then, that’s a phase-ship’s job, isn’t it?”
“That’s right sir,” I said. “You’ll never know where my ship might strike next.”
Fex gave me a hard look, but he didn’t become angry.
“Well then, until we meet again,” he said, walking out.
After he was gone, Ursahn looked as sad as any large creature ever has. She sat on her stump and her broad shoulders slumped.
“He’s arranged it so he can win either way,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Have you got some kind of tricky plan to get us out of this?”
I hesitated. “No, not yet. But I’ll come to one. I always do.”
She heaved a deep breath, which I took to be a sigh. It came out of her dark, flaring nostrils.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “We’ll pull this off. I’ll be in touch.”
Exiting the office, my two men fell in on either side of me. They were curious, but they didn’t ask what had happened in front of the other officers who were standing around on the command deck.
“Did you get us some shore leave?” Samson asked when we made it to the lift and began rapidly descending.
“Better,” I said. “We’ve got a new mission. A star system not too far off needs our help.”
Samson didn’t look happy, but he kept quiet. It was Miller who couldn’t stop from asking the next, obvious question.
“What star system?”
I glanced at him, then away. “Ral, I believe it’s called.”
