“Yeah, I can do it without hurting your tech,” Ben said. “No problem.”
“Very good. I appreciate people who can get things done.”
Ben smiled, and Pershing almost returned the gesture without thinking. There was something innately likable about Ben Griminski, but she refused to give in to her feelings about the young engineer. He was a rebel, she reminded herself, just a common criminal. Well, perhaps not common. He was smart and capable, two traits she didn’t normally apply to rebels or outlaws. Still, as the commander of the ship, she couldn’t let her emotions cloud her judgment, or give the crew the idea that they were in a democracy. She had to be in total and complete control, anything less and she might fail to fulfill her destiny. And that was simply unacceptable.
Chapter 33
To Le Croix’s surprise, he wasn’t immediately tortured. He was, however, strapped to a table that could be raised and lowered. Aliens came into the room where he was held. Unlike the others Le Croix had seen, they didn’t have the tentacled headdresses. Instead, the newcomers had mechanical arms that sprouted from a harness that covered their chest and back. Le Croix wasn’t sure, but the harness looked as if it were attached to the aliens’ bodies in some kind of strange biomechanical graft.
From the harness, the mechanical arms looked like spider legs with a different type of tool built into the end of each one. At first, Le Croix feared that the aliens were some sort of torturers, but he soon changed his mind. They inspected him, running scans on his body and using their tools to remove his battle armor. He was left naked, strapped to the table at a slight incline with his head up for hours at a time.
The aliens were mostly interested in his prosthetic legs. Le Croix wore carbon fiber spring feet on titanium below the knee pylon. They were attached to his knee using a vacuum seal syntha-skin harness. The aliens spent hours studying his legs, and eventually they removed one but left the other.
A great way to immobilize a person, Le Croix thought. He had grown so attached to his artificial legs that the thought of losing one was like a nightmare. Fortunately, the aliens left the prosthesis in the same room with Le Croix, along with his armor. Only his weapons were missing. At times he cried. Being alone, surrounded by aliens he didn’t understand, filled Le Croix with a sense of loneliness he had never experienced before. And he was ashamed of being captured, even though he knew from a rational point of view that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t surrendered his position or given up. The Modulus Echo had left him stranded in space. He could have opted not to stay with the crown prince’s emergency pod, but that didn’t guarantee that the aliens wouldn’t have snatched him out of space too. And it would have meant turning his back on a member of the royal family.
The only thing Le Croix might have done differently was to fight the aliens on their own ship, but he knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. He would have lost, been wounded or killed. Worse yet, the crown prince might have been hurt or killed. The aliens might still torture them to death, but at least Le Croix wouldn’t die with the crown prince’s blood on his conscience.
Still, it was hard to deal with being helpless and alone. He wondered where the prince was being held. He wished they were together, but only because it would have been a sliver of familiarity when he was drowning in the strangeness of his surroundings. The ship itself was odd. It was obviously mechanical but crafted to look organic. The walls weren’t straight and even, the way a human would have engineered them. They looked grown, or carved, as if the metal bulkhead had been rough cut from a giant metal tree. There were strange devices in the room. Le Croix couldn’t stop his mind from imagining horrible things that the devices might be used for.
It was impossible to tell how much time passed in the small room where he was held prisoner. Light seemed to glow from the ceiling, with no discernible source, and never went off. Le Croix had no way to mark the passage of time other than the visits by the strange aliens. When one of the warriors with a tentacled headdress came into the room, Le Croix actually felt a wave of relief.
The alien barked a strange command, which Le Croix didn’t understand. A spider-armed alien came into the room and did something that Le Croix couldn’t see, but the straps holding him to the table were released. He slid off the smooth surface, his back suddenly aching from the movement and his hands pawing at the edges of the table to stabilize his weight on just one leg.
“You want to give me my leg back?” Le Croix said, trying to sound unfazed. “Some clothes might be nice too.”
The alien moved so suddenly, Le Croix didn’t have time to react. The alien’s arm shot toward him, and a short, leathery-looking strap wrapped around Le Croix’s neck with a high-pitched snap. The strap was tight and made it difficult to breathe. With a snarl, the alien jerked Le Croix off his artificial leg and began dragging him out of the room.
Fortunately, they didn’t go far. The alien pulled Le Croix, who was gagging, his eyes bulging from the sockets, into a stall. The strap, which seemed almost sentient, released him, and Le Croix coughed and gagged, struggling to breathe.
The alien hit a switch, and the floor dropped out from under Le Croix. For a split second, he felt himself falling, then he hit a smooth surface and went sliding down and incline. Just as Le Croix was starting to get his bearings and thinking of finding a way to halt his momentum, he tumbled out of the dark chute and into another room. Two aliens grabbed his arms and stood him up. He was pushed against the wall, where more straps sprang to life. One wrapped around his neck, another around his waist, and two bound each of his arms. There was just enough time for Le Croix to notice that there was some type of padding behind him. Then the crown prince of the Royal Imperium dropped into the room.
Unlike Le Croix, who was fit, the prince was overweight. There were marks across his pale skin, which Le Croix guessed were from the straps that had held him pinned to a table similar to where the major had been confined.
“Stop! Please!” Godfred cried, as the aliens stood him up and pinned him to the opposite wall.
“Don’t struggle,” Le Croix said.
It was a wasted thought. Godfred wasn’t trying to resist, only to avoid getting hurt. His eyes were bloodshot, his face swollen. At first, Le Croix wondered if perhaps he had been beaten or abused, but when the aliens moved away and the major could see the prince, it was obvious that he had just been weeping. Le Croix had cried as well, alone in what he thought of as an exam room.
“Are you hurt?” Le Croix asked.
“N-n-no,” Godfred replied. “They haven’t—”
One of the aliens snarled at the prince, a deep-throated, animalistic growl. Godfred stopped speaking, and the aliens hooted. It seemed to Le Croix that they were laughing at them.
There were other pads, but no other prisoners. The lights in the small room were dim. Le Croix could turn his head a little, and he saw what looked like the cockpit of a ship just beyond the nearby bulkhead. The aliens, it appeared, were flying them somewhere.
Another alien appeared from the far end of the room, opposite the cockpit. He had a case with Le Croix’s other leg, his armor, and his weapons inside. The case was strapped against the wall, then the alien strapped himself in. He barked at the others, who returned the bark.
“Are they talking?” Godfred asked.
“I guess so,” Le Croix said.
The alien nearby growled menacingly. Le Croix didn’t think the alien could reach them from where it had strapped itself to the wall, but he felt the binding around his neck tighten slightly, and the prince made a gagging sound.
A few minutes later, the transport dropped from the ship it was anchored to. Le Croix felt the familiar flip in his stomach as they passed out of the larger ship’s artificial gravity. He was learning about the enemy, and he told himself that was the most important thing to focus on. If he survived and managed to escape, he needed to be able to share his knowledge of the enemy.
“Where are they taking us?” Godfred whispered.
“Don’t talk,” Le Croix warned him.
It was too late. The neck bindings tightened again. Le Croix was forced to push his head back into the padding behind him to keep from choking. The prince wasn’t as fortunate. The strap dug painfully into his fat neck until he could barely breathe.
Le Croix pulled slightly against the bonds holding his arms. It was a reflex. Mentally he knew he couldn’t break free, but his spirit refused to be held down. The bindings were strong enough to hold him, and just as he expected, they tightened in response to his testing of them. The only thing to do was wait, as difficult and frightening as that was.
The transport descended toward what Le Croix guessed was Gershwin, the royal planet. It was the only habitable planet in the system. While Le Croix couldn’t be certain he didn’t think they had jumped to hyperspace, at least he hadn’t felt the telltale feeling of time slowing as they broke the light speed barrier. He knew the aliens might have completely different technology. The ship he was held captive of could have gone anywhere. His biggest fear was that they had passed back through the wormhole. If they were held captive on an alien planet in another galaxy, rescue would be impossible.
If he were alone, he wouldn’t even consider the prospect of rescue, but the crown prince changed things. As a Special Forces commando, he had been trained to understand that getting captured was a death sentence. In almost every case, a captured Special Forces operator would be disowned, their very existence denied by the Royal Imperium government. But they wouldn’t just let the prince die. He was the heir to the throne, the symbol of power in the Imperium. If they were still in the Celeste system, odds were good that a rescue operation was being planned. His job, his entire purpose, was to be ready for the opportunity to aid in the rescue of the crown prince. It was a noble goal, certainly something worth living for.
As the transport shuddered through the atmosphere of whatever planet lay below, Le Croix steeled his resolve to find his opportunities. Even if he died in the effort, he could feel good knowing he was doing the right thing. Not just for himself, but for the prince, and for the Royal Imperium. It was all he’d ever really wanted. To be found equal to the task, even if the mission required the ultimate sacrifice.
Chapter 34
The Modulus Echo dropped out of hyperspace in the middle of nowhere. They were far from any space station, star system, or celestial body. Kim was back in the pilot’s seat, but there was no need to fly the ship. They could drift for a million years and never come close to anything that might endanger the ship. Unless the aliens followed them again. That thought sent a shiver down Kim’s back.
“Plot the next jump,” General Pershing said. “I want us gone before they get here.”
“Working on it,” Nance said.
Kim swiveled around in her seat. Magnum was studying his display screen. Kim guessed that Nance had given him control of the radar and he was watching for any signs of the aliens while she calculated their next hyperspace jump. The general was busy as well, although she had just come back onto the bridge after being in the crew lounge for the duration of their short jump.
“Five minutes,” Nance said.
“Let’s stay alert, people,” General Pershing said. “Those alien ships may have been waiting to follow us out of the system. They could show up any second.”
“If they do, they’ll be disappointed,” Kim said.
“Nothing for them to hunt but us,” Magnum agreed.
“All the more reason why we shouldn’t be here when they arrive,” Pershing said. “Although I’d give my right arm to know how they followed us in the first place.”
“I have a theory,” Professor Jones said.
He was normally quiet on the bridge. Nance had given him control of the communications console, allowing him to use the ship’s computers with his research. He could spend hours in silence, working or thinking, or whatever academics actually did, Kim had no idea. But he stayed busy and only spoke up when he was asked a direct question in most cases.
“It has long been believed that our vessels leave a wake in hyperspace, much the same as a seafaring ship would leave in the water.”
“A wake?” Pershing asked.
“Yes, we’ve never found a way to see it, exactly, and it doesn’t last long,” the professor continued. “But studies have shown that it might exist.”
“And the aliens have tech that can see it and follow it?” Kim asked.
“It’s just a theory,” Jones said. “But if they can lock on the signature, it could be followed. It would take a high-powered computer to observe it and make sure that the alien vessel didn’t overshoot its quarry. As you know, even a millisecond of FTL travel would leave them millions of kilometers past the ship they were pursuing.”
“Or send them straight into it,” Nance said.
Kim felt a wave of nerves. The Echo was merely drifting in space and she feathered the throttle forward. If the alien ship came out of hyperspace on top of their position it would not be good, she thought.
“Why haven’t our scientists found this hypertrail?” Pershing asked.
“Probably,” Professor Jones explained, “because its only benefit is to military and law enforcement. There’s not a lot of money in that. Research is always about the money.”
“The Royal Imperium has deep pockets,” Pershing said.
“Indeed,” Jones agreed, “but more often than not they simply requisition what they need. There are scientists who would do the work, but not if their discoveries were to be stolen from them.”
“Your anti-Imperium sentiment is not welcome while I’m on this ship,” the general said.
“I’m not judging,” Jones said. “Just sharing my experience. Most academics that I know are very interested in funding and recognition of their work.”
“But you aren’t?” Pershing asked.
“Of course I am,” Jones said without a trace of anger.
“Aren’t we all?” Kim agreed.
“Jump point is coming up,” Nance said.
“How long do these hyperspace wakes last?” Pershing persisted.
“It’s impossible to know for sure,” Jones said. “A wake in open water might last a few seconds. Conversely, a contrail left in the sky by an atmospheric craft can last for hours. It’s impossible to know without proper research.”
“So if they aliens are following these hyperspace wakes,” Pershing said, “it’s possible that they can follow us, even if we’re gone by the time they arrive?”
“Very possible,” Jones said.
“Jump point is set,” Nance said.
“I’ve got it,” Kim said. “Ten seconds.”
“Any signs of the enemy?” Pershing asked.
“Radar is clear,” Magnum said.
“Visual scans are clear,” Nance added.
“Very good, take us out,” Pershing said.
Kim was already on track. She hit the controls and watched the distant stars brighten for a second before they disappeared in the swirling fog of hyperspace travel. She felt her muscles relax a little. It was getting to the point that she only felt truly safe in hyperspace anymore.
“Transit time?” Pershing asked.
“Two hours, twelve minutes,” Nance said.
“Very good. I’ll be in the lounge if you need me.”
Kim watched the general leave the bridge. They weren’t part of her military, and yet Kim knew the woman was completely in charge. It was frightening, and in some ways reassuring, to know that her life and those of the people she loved most in the universe were in the general’s hands.
“What do you think she’s doing in there?” Kim asked.
“Ben sent up the information from the surveillance buoy,” Nance explained. “She’s studying it.”
“What’s to study,” Kim said. “The aliens came, they took out some ships. We came back, took back some of the captives. Just normal military stuff.”
Magnum chuckled.
Kim
stood up and stretched. “I’ll get some food going.”
“I’ll help if Magnum will stay on the bridge,” Nance said.
The big man nodded, and the two women climbed the stairs to the upper deck.
“Do you ever get tired of being on this ship?” Kim asked.
“No,” Nance said. “It’s familiar.”
“But don’t you want to see other things?”
“I see all kinds of things on my computer.”
“That’s not the same,” Kim said.
“It’s enough for me.”
They walked into the galley. Staff Sergeant Visher was leaning against the bulkhead, keeping a respectful distance from the queen and Duke Simeon. The two royals weren’t talking either. The duke was leaning with his back against the table, while the queen sat straight up, her back rigid, her head held high.
“What’s going on?” Kim asked Visher is a quiet voice.
“Nothing,” he said. “They’ve been sitting like that for a while now. Neither is willing to be the first to speak to the other, I think.”
“Power games,” Kim said with a smirk. “It’s kind of pathetic.”
“Careful,” Nance warned Kim. “As long as they’re on board, we should keep our opinions to ourselves.”
They began preparing food using the new supplies General Pershing gave them. It didn’t take long before they had a virtual feast of food options. Unlike most outposts that survived on protein bricks, or planets that produced a single, exportable vegetable, the Royal Imperium military had access to all sorts of food. They filled platters with food, then prepared plates for themselves, Ben, and Magnum.
“You aren’t sticking around to eat?” Visher asked.
“It’s a little chilly up here,” Kim said with a grin.
“You might take a plate down to the crew lounge for General Pershing,” Nance suggested.
“Yeah, doesn’t look like they really need you up here,” Kim said.
“I’ll take that as an order,” Visher said. “At least the general will appreciate a little initiative.”
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