by B. V. Larson
“Aren’t you on duty, Captain?” she asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
“Well then, I can’t imagine why you’re here. There’s no time for personal contact.”
I knew what she meant, but I played dumb.
“I wanted to check on you,” I said. “How did the gravity-warp hit you?”
She winced at the mention of it. “That asshole, Abrams. He thinks he’s some kind of intellectual god. But he’s really a hack with delusions of grandeur. In his mind, we’re all just convenient fodder for his guessing games.”
Then she showed me her bruised ribs and chest. She wasn’t overly careful not to expose the underside of one breast. Keeping a serious poker-face, I tsked appreciatively and made a point of not reacting with more than impressed eyebrows.
“That’s a long stretch of purple,” I admitted. “How’d it happen?”
“When the gravity went mad, I was working out in the gym. The machines warped for a second, and they pulled me instead of me pushing them.”
I tried to visualize it. On a spacecraft, working out was important. You often spent long periods in zero-G, which meant muscular atrophy and a loss of bone density. However, lifting heavy objects didn’t always help as we were often weightless. To compensate, our gym used isometric systems, machines with adjustable pressure-bands inside them.
“So… the machine got heavier?”
“I was on the bench press. The right side suddenly weighed nothing, while the left doubled in pressure. My arm buckled—nearly snapped—and the bar hit my side.”
“Ouch… You want me to put some cream on it or something?”
Robin narrowed her eyes and pulled her top back down. “No… I did that already. Maybe later...”
I smiled and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of the head. Then I left quickly.
A man has to know when he’s scored points. In my case, I often ran off the second I’d managed it. Another sentence out of my mouth could reverse the whole thing.
My sym buzzed before I made it back to the bridge. It was Abrams.
“I’m ready,” he said. His voice was ragged, even though it was virtual. I knew that was the sym interpreting his state, which had to be near exhaustion.
“How can we test it without risking my whole ship and crew again?” I demanded.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you almost as much as I did the first time you turned on this gizmo.”
He didn’t respond, and a tense silence reigned for several seconds.
“I have an idea,” I said at last. “Meet me on the bridge?”
“I’ll be right there.”
My mind was full of misgivings as I made my way to my command chair again. Abrams came up to stand beside me. He looked tired, but he also appeared triumphant.
Samson’s eyes slid from one of us to the other. “What the hell…? Don’t tell me…?”
I nodded. “We’re ready for round two,” I said. “This time, we’re doing it differently. I want everyone aboard safely strapped in. I want every piece of equipment stowed and secured.”
All around me, the crewmen began working to do as I’d ordered. They made ship-wide announcements, shoved objects into lockers and strapped themselves into their seats with trembling hands.
When we were ready at last, I gave Miller a nod. He turned to his station.
“I have a message with an attachment,” he announced in a voice like that of an undertaker.
“Open it, please,” I said.
“Abrams, please confirm this is your work?”
“That’s what I sent you,” Abrams snapped. “Who else would have transmitted a new app from the labs?”
“Miller,” I said, “I want you to configure the new app to run for one second. That’s it. After that time period is up, it should automatically shut down. Can you set that up in the task scheduler?”
“I’ll write a script, sir.”
Abrams studied me with a curling lip. “You don’t trust my work, do you, Blake?”
“I certainly do,” I said. “I’m trusting it with my ship and crew right now, for a second time in as many days. But I do want to put in a safeguard all the same.”
He seemed huffy about it, but he didn’t openly complain. Miller worked out the failsafe, and after everyone on all decks had reported that they were ready—we phased back into normal space and switched it on.
=51=
When that hum began again, we were all gritting our teeth and squinting our eyes.
Even Abrams looked apprehensive, and I couldn’t blame any of them. We were gun-shy after the first disaster.
But essentially, nothing happened. The hum died, and we all sat there, looking around. Some people twiddled their fingers in the air, making sure they were all the same length.
Samson hawked and spat, studying the trajectory of his spittle. The path looked straight and smooth.
Dalton growled when Samson’s projectile hit him in the back of the neck. He turned around with rage on his face, but it quickly faded.
“We’re okay…” he said. “We’re alive!”
“No warping reported,” Miller said. “No problems of any kind.”
I projected my perceptions outside Hammerhead’s hull, into normal space. Examining the Hunter, I found it didn’t seem to take notice of us. Maybe it was having too good a time chewing up its current victim-planet—or maybe we were now giving off the right signal.
“Let’s try it again,” I said. “A longer pulse this time.”
“Give me a full minute, at least,” Abrams asked. “I barely got any readings from that last blip. How can I measure results if we only emit gravity waves for seconds?”
I ignored him, as did Miller.
“How long this time, sir?” Miller asked me.
“Five seconds. If our guts hold together, we’ll go for ten.”
Abrams complained steadily, but we ignored him. We queued up another test, announced it, and ran the script on Miller’s station.
Nothing appeared to happen, other than a tiny tremor running through the ship. It felt as if a strong wind had struck the hull—but of course, that was impossible.
We looked around with wide eyes, staring at the bulkheads as if they might crush inward upon us. Then the timer ran out, and the test was over.
A huge sigh of relief ran through the crew.
“Again,” I said. “Ten seconds this time.”
“Captain,” Abrams complained, “this is absurd! We’re giving away our position while only possibly confusing the Hunter.”
“Belay that last order, Miller!” I shouted.
Miller’s hand, which had been hovering over his console, lifted away again. He looked at me curiously.
“Are we going to take the good doctor’s advice on this… again?” he asked.
I looked at Abrams. “What were you saying about confusing the Hunter?”
“The effect has to be continuous. It’s like a whale song. Long, low and hard to hear. It only makes sense if it’s perceived in its entirety. If we keep starting and stopping it, we might get it wrong and cause unpredictable effects.”
Frowning, I considered his objections. “All right. Miller, start it up in a continuous loop. But keep your hand right on that console. The second anyone screams or you detect an anomaly, kill it.”
A few moans of despair went up from the crew. They grabbed their skulls in claw-like hands, and they hunched forward protecting their bellies.
“Got it,” Miller said. “Executing program.”
The gravity ripples began. They were much more subtle than before. Now, they felt like a tiny flutter of gas in my guts. It was like having a moment when you’re consciously aware of your own breathing or heartbeat—nothing unpleasant.
The pulses went on and on. Slowly, the crew began to trust they weren’t about to be ripped apart, and they relaxed.
Dalton was the first to laugh aloud.
“Crazy old
buzzard,” he said. “You had us so scared. Samson here soiled himself again.”
“Liar!” Samson said, but he didn’t strike his friend. He beamed instead. Everyone was so relieved we weren’t experiencing a hellish twisting of our innards we hardly cared about insults.
Our relief lasted for several cheerful minutes. Below decks, people were clapping and talking animatedly. We were visible to the cruiser—but the Hunter was taking no notice of us. Better still, we’d achieved this new defensive status without a single hitch of agony.
“Captain…?” Gwen asked.
I turned to her and noted she seemed to be listening to her sym intently. I could always tell when someone was hearing an internal voice. They tended to cock their heads to one side. I think the improved reception in that position might have been by design. It signaled others that you were listening to someone besides them.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“I’m getting a signal. A request for an open channel.”
“Really? From who?”
I expected her to say the transmission was incoming from Ral, but she didn’t. She looked at me in astonishment.
“It’s from the Imperial cruiser, sir.”
We all froze for a second. It was rare to be hailed by an Imperial ship. They often fought to the death without a word. Even requests for surrender or mercy were routinely ignored.
But not today.
What could they want to talk about? They were out of immediate weapons range, over a million miles distant. That meant it couldn’t be a trick to sucker-punch us.
“Have they fired anything?” I asked. “Any missiles, or—?”
“Nothing, Captain. What should I do?”
“Open the channel. Display the output on the forward bulkhead for everyone to see.”
The star pattern on the forward bulkhead vanished, and it was immediately replaced by a lovely woman dressed in silky white robes.
The figure was tall and thin-limbed. I recognized her rank, her look—and her face.
“Captain Lael?” I asked. “Is that you, or do all Imperials look alike?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know my ship Splendor has been stalking you, Blake,” she said. “We’ve monitored your communications with these local infestations. Your obsession with me is obvious.”
I blinked in confusion. It took me a second to realize she was referring to the population of Ral, all nine billion of them, as a “local infestation.” For some reason, this pissed me off.
“Ah, right. I should have known right off it was you when you ran from my tiny ship. You always were more concerned with your personal safety than the well-being of your fleet.”
A small, warm hand closed over mine at that point. I looked down, expecting to see Gwen’s hand resting over mine. But it was Robin’s.
“Who called you up here?” I asked her.
“I’m the ship’s PR person, remember Captain?” she said sweetly.
Right then, I remembered why she was aboard. She was here to represent Earth. Space Command had sent her on this mission with a purpose in mind. They’d decided my diplomatic skills were less than stellar, and another more refined voice was necessary.
“Fine,” I said. “You talk to her.”
Robin looked very pretty and pleasant as she addressed the forward screen. There, Captain Lael stared back at us with an unfriendly expression.
“I’m so sorry if we seem abrupt,” Robin said. “What can we do for you, Captain Lael? How can we cement the peace that has lasted for over a year between our two peoples?”
Lael squinted at her. “Blake? Who is this person? Is this your concubine? If so, it’s highly insulting that you would allow it to talk to me.”
I grinned. I’d seen Robin’s face falter, then snap back into that sappy smile.
“She represents Earth, Captain,” I said. “Please, tell us why you’ve made this call.”
“Very well. I’m obligated to inform you of a criminal act. Specifically, your ship is emanating a patented gravity signal. This is intolerable, as only Imperial ships and planets are allowed to transmit this particular pattern. You must cease immediately.”
“But if we do,” Robin said, “the Hunter will attack us. Surely, as a basis for diplomatic—”
“We are at war, creature!” Lael said, leaning forward angrily. “You must learn you place—your entire genus is to be culled and replaced.”
Robin swallowed. “There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding. We’re not trying to start a conflict with you. We’re merely trying to avoid encountering the Hunter that stalks this system.”
“Of course you are,” Lael scoffed, “but this escape route is owned in its entirety by another entity—namely the Empire. You’ve been warned, and you should consider this an ultimatum.”
“What would the penalty be for ignoring your demands?” Robin asked carefully.
“A corresponding rise in the priority queues for your race,” Lael said with a grim expression.
“What priority queue?”
“All these worlds are scheduled for demolition. We’ll simply make Earth first on the list if you persist in these violations.”
This unexpected statement had everyone on the bridge looking at one another.
“So…” I said. “You are controlling this machine. It’s destroying our worlds methodically at your command?”
Robin’s soft hand closed over mine again, but I ignored her this time.
“You overstate the case,” Lael said. “The automaton was built by the Nomads, not the Kher Empire. We don’t command it. We guide it, as a governor might gently alter the course of a storm.”
I barely knew what she was talking about, and I barely cared.
“Gwen,” I said, turning to her. “Transmit Abrams schematics to Ral. They can build their own gravitational signal-production device. The automaton will avoid their world, as it avoids this ship.”
“You dare so much?” demanded Captain Lael. “Right in front of me, a legitimate executor of Imperial will? I won’t stand for it. You are to be expunged, Leo Blake.”
I made an urgent gesture toward Gwen, who numbly turned to her long-range com boards. She loaded up Abrams blueprints and all his findings, transmitting them as a single condensed blip of data.
“It’s done,” I told Lael. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Destroy you, of course—ah but wait, you’ll only fade away again. All primitives are cowards at heart. I’m surprised your kind has never built phase-ships in the past.”
“I won’t run this time,” I said. “I’m willing to face you. I’ve longed to test the mettle of an Imperial against my own. Will you accept my challenge, captain to captain?”
It was her turn to blink in surprise.
“You’re challenging me to personal combat? As an equal?”
“Think of it as a method to catch my ship, which would otherwise elude your grasp forever. It’s your choice. You can meet me in combat, or you can chase us until you get tired of the game.”
“I’m tired of the game already. I’ll accept your challenge, but—”
Here it came. I knew there would be conditions.
“I must, of course, be allowed a champion. My expertise isn’t in base, grunting combat. I’m a master of command and judgment, not apish savagery.”
“I understand. I’ll claim the same right, however. The winner of this contest must leave this system, giving it up to the other side.”
She shook her head, marveling. “You risk so much to save a Rebel world. What possible reason might you have for this sacrifice, Blake? It isn’t like you.”
I didn’t want to tell her about Mia, or explain to her I had compassion for nine billion innocents. Neither idea was likely to penetrate.
“I wish to clearly best you,” I said loudly. “I wish for your crew, and mine, to witness your humiliation.”
This statement was calculated to create a maximal amount of rage inside Lael’s
self-important skull. It was highly effective.
“You shall regret your words, and your deeds. As the challenged, I choose the ground—my ship, the central chamber, immediately.”
“Now?”
“Do you fear?” she asked leaning forward excitedly.
“No. I hadn’t dared hope you would be so foolish. I accept—by your honor, you can’t back out now.”
My statements made her face cloud. She gave her head a shake, as if to clear it.
“Truly, your feral race must be stomped out. I can see the lust for blood in your eyes. It’s disturbing. A planet full of mad-things such as yourself can’t be permitted to exist another day.”
“You sound like you’re thinking of dishonoring yourself after your inevitable defeat,” I said.
She laughed. “Nonsense. You haven’t got a chance. I’m merely thinking ahead to the next step—but for now, you’re welcome to come aboard. Hasten to your death, Leo Blake. I’m impatient to witness it.”
She signed off after that, and I stood up the moment the transmission feed was cut. I whooped and clapped my hands over my head.
My bridge crew stared at me as if I’d gone mad.
“Captain… what are you so happy about?” Robin asked.
“She’ll come up with some unfair goon to fight you,” Gwen said. “Some kind of dirty Imperial trick.”
“Of course,” I said, scoffing. “But it’s too late for her. I’ve already played my trick, and won.”
They watched me with open-mouthed stares as I marched off the bridge.
=52=
Samson volunteered to be my companion, and I accepted his offer without hesitation.
He was a great man to have at your side when the chips were down. What impressed me even more was his attitude. As far as he knew, we were walking into the lion’s den. He was willing to march at my side to hell and back. I couldn’t think of a better thing you might say about a friend.
After visiting Dr. Abrams for about an hour, we were equipped and ready to make the transfer to Lael’s ship. We boarded a pod and were released into space. We traveled through silent, hard vacuum toward Splendor.
Below us, a dying world was a bluish-white mass of crushed ice and swirling atmosphere. The planet was too cold to have living oceans, but there were large frozen ice caps that reached almost to the equator from each pole.
