=1=
Earth’s first interstellar probes were called “star-shots,” and they were metal disks the size of a quarter.
I was standing around in the Los Alamos labs when we launched the first one, and I’ll never forget the chain of events that followed.
“Lieutenant Blake,” Dr. Abrams said to me sternly. He had one of those euro-accents that made him sound mean—which he was. “Step back, Lieutenant, please.”
Abrams reminded me of an angry bird. He was small, quick-moving, and always wore a flapping white lab-coat. To finish the look, he had a sharp, beak-like nose that poked out from under his thick glasses.
“Sure thing, Doc,” I said, easing my feet back a half-step.
Abrams fixed me with a dissatisfied stare, but he didn’t pursue the matter. In his mind, I was a waste of carbon on God’s green Earth. Worse, I was invading his breathing-space just by being in his lab.
To his chagrin, the government-types had insisted I be present today—and in every other experiment, press-gathering and staff meeting. Today was the first day of my surveillance, and he wasn’t happy about it.
He’d have thrown me out if he could have, and I wouldn’t have minded letting him get away with it. I suspected the politicians wanted to associate my face with Abrams’ space-development projects for PR purposes, but all of that was lost on him.
Abrams sighed and looked back to his instruments. He impatiently signaled with blurring fingers for the experiment to proceed. A half-dozen techs in white coveralls bent to the task, tweaking, setting and rechecking every digital meter that kept tabs on this space-cannon-thing we were encircling. Wisps of icy vapor rose up from the bottom of the vast cylinder, and that got me to move back where Abrams had failed.
Abrams turned to the circle of camera-drones and reporters, and he managed to manufacture a thin smile.
“We’re ready to proceed,” he said. “This experiment is star-shot one-point-seven. We’re launching a real probe this time, not just another lump of diamond. Target: Proxima Centauri.”
The launching mechanism was interesting, even to me. He explained it to the press even though it was a well-documented process.
“The nanocraft is a gram-scale wafer made of artificially grown diamond. It contains cameras, photon thrusters, a power supply and a radio-transmitter. The power supply is based on a tiny plutonium battery.”
The press stared, playing with their recording instruments. No one was impressed so far.
“The most amazing thing,” Abrams continued, “is the low cost of each probe. They cost no more than an automobile to make, even though they’re prototypes.”
He didn’t mention the space-cannon, which was pretty expensive.
“So, this thing fires a diamond bullet at the stars?” asked a reporter.
Abrams looked at him with triumphant glee. “No! No, not all! That is a common misconception. This projection device is an energy source—essentially, it’s a giant laser. The star-shot probe is already above us in orbit. The launcher is up there as well, and it consists of several kilometers of photo-sensitive material—we call it a light-sail. The sail will catch the beam fired from this laser.”
The reporter frowned, and his mouth hung slightly open. Abrams was instantly irritated, but he did his best to hide it. He clenched his teeth, and he talked with a strained smile.
“You see,” he said, “think of this laser as a fan, and the sail up in space as a kite. We’ll use the fan on Earth to create thrust. The acceleration will be tremendous.”
“How fast?” another reporter asked.
This one was a cute young woman with big eyes and a rabid attitude. I immediately wanted to ask her on a date—it’s a suicidal instinct of mine to date intense women.
“This laser generates over one hundred giga-watts of power,” Abrams said. “The resulting strike will be diffused to prevent burn-through—but we expect the sail to reach thirty percent the speed of light within about twenty minutes.”
The group seemed stunned. The project had made claims—but this kind of acceleration exceeded them.
“How is this kind of speed possible?” the pretty one demanded. I could tell right-off she’d been to college and taken her science classes seriously.
“Remember, there is essentially no friction in space,” Abrams explained. “The application of force to a surface will thus generate terrific pressure, pushing the target to reach great velocities very quickly.”
“Force?” asked the dumb guy. He’d managed to close his sagging jaw by now, and his confused frown had been replaced by a skeptical one. “How does a laser beam apply force?”
“It does,” Abrams said impatiently. “Trust me on this one. Optical physics is a hobby of mine.”
The group chuckled, and the dummy shut up, reddening a little.
“It’s a simple matter of mathematics,” Abrams went on. “The application of vast force upon a small object creates terrific acceleration. The probe is very light, weighing only a few grams. The sail will be destroyed by launch and disintegrate, but the probe is much tougher and will then become an effective bullet heading toward a distant star.”
The group seemed satisfied. They looked at the screens expectantly.
Abrams slammed his hands together, creating a loud popping sound that made everyone jump.
“So!” he announced. “It is time! Begin the countdown!”
Flashing yellow lights pulsed. Air-horns blasted a warning. That was much more effective than admonishments. The group retreated from the space-cannon—or giant laser. We were all alarmed to see the cooling jackets crust up with ice and emit cold frosty mists from a dozen sources.
“The cooling systems are at maximum,” Abrams said with an excited light in his eyes. “No errors—we’re going to launch.”
The timer ticked down and then a sound began—sort of a hum. We’d all been issued dark goggles, but I didn’t see anything at all.
“Is that it?” I asked in surprise. “I can’t see the beam.”
“Of course not!” Abrams said, whirling on me. “If you saw it, your eyes would be boiled eggs by now.”
We shrugged and watched. It was kind of anti-climactic. There was no column of fire, no roar, just a lot of numbers and hunched technicians.
I removed my goggles and set them on a console. The reporter with the big eyes stepped close and looked up at me.
“You think it’s safe?” she asked.
I shrugged. “If this monster blows up, we’re all screwed anyway. A bit of plastic isn’t going to save us.”
Hesitantly, she took off her goggles and set them next to mine. She sighed, and she looked unhappy.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. This is a great step forward, but it’s nothing compared to what we’ve seen. The aliens have gigantic ships. They flash between the stars in moments. We’re firing a bullet at the closest star, and it will take years to get there.”
I understood her disappointment. What might have been considered a fantastic achievement a few years ago now paled in comparison to the technology of the Rebel Kher—not to mention the lofty Imperials.
“We’ve got more going on than just this,” I assured her quietly. “Don’t worry about it. Earth isn’t helpless.”
Her big eyes lit up. “You know about it—personally?” she asked.
I cleared my throat and shrugged. I shouldn’t have said anything. I kicked myself mentally. As a military man, I should have known better.
“That’s classified, ma’am,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Are you from around here, or from Washington?”
My play to change the subject didn’t wash.
“New York,” she said crisply. She stepped closer to me and lowered her voice. “I’m Robin. You want to get something to eat after this show is over?”
Every instinct in my thick skull sang out the right answer: “no” but I didn’t listen. I rarely did under these circumstances.
“Uh… sure, Robin.”
That was it. I knew how things were going to go—but I couldn’t resist. I’d dated Gwen for a few months after we got back to Earth, but things hadn’t worked out long term. That meant I was on the dating market, so to speak.
About then the cannon made an odd sound—a bad sound. A steel-jacketed hose broke loose, dangling and spraying white mist. The mist was frosty and so cold I could feel it from where I stood.
Half a dozen techs ducked—screeching and covering their faces. Their hair was turning white, and their skin was turning red.
“It’s burning them,” Robin said, and her hands gripped my arm.
I stepped forward, grabbed the whipping hose and ripped it loose. That stung my hand, but it caused the venting to be much higher up and the hose wasn’t right in the middle of the huddled techs.
“Damn, that’s cold,” I said, retreating and dropping the hose. The techs soon got the disaster under control, but they weren’t happy.
“We’ve lost ninety percent of our acceleration,” Abrams moaned. “We had to shut down early—that’s barely three percent of light speed. A failure.”
He didn’t seem to care much about the injured, or his equipment—just his damned probe.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “The universe has tech that dwarfs this toy. We’ll get out there into space soon enough.”
He gave me a squinting stare, but said nothing. Then he went back to chewing on his injured team. One of them would be blamed. He just had to figure out who it was going to be.
Robin, meanwhile, was examining the steel hose I’d dropped. She poked at it with a stylus.
“It’s covered in ice—and it’s made of woven steel. How did you rip it out with your bare hands?”
“I covered them with my sleeve,” I lied, demonstrating.
She shook her head. “How about that drink? This experiment appears to be over.”
“I thought it was dinner.”
“We could do that too—after.”
I thought about it, and I even considered saying “no” for a few seconds.
But in the end, we left the lab complex together.
=2=
Los Alamos, New Mexico is located high in the southern Rocky Mountains. The lab itself is at an elevation of over seven thousand feet. There wasn’t much to do in the neighboring town.
Robin and I drove down the mountain to Santa Fe—about a half-hour trip on a winding road. She turned out to be one determined lady. We were eating together about an hour after the accident at the labs—if you can call fishing the good nuts out of the happy-hour bowl in a hotel bar eating.
Robin was a no-nonsense girl. She drank like a pro, preferring Kentucky bourbon on ice. She even knew her brands, from Jim Beam to Wild Turkey, and everything in-between.
“You know things,” she said to me after her second drink. “I thought you were just a pilot caught by aliens—but you’re more than that.”
Her piercing eyes were big and brown and reminded me of Mia’s eyes. Damn, I missed that crazy cat-girl. I wondered briefly what had happened to her, and hoped she was having a good life back on her home planet of Ral.
“You’re wrong,” I told Robin, “I don’t know anything. I’m a dummy. I’m just a prop for the government to parade around.”
She slowly shook her head in disbelief.
“Come on, Leo,” she said, “give me something. Why keep secrets? It’s not like the aliens are watching us. They don’t give a rip what we do down here on Earth.”
“Why didn’t you ask Dr. Abrams about more advanced efforts?”
She snorted. “He’s more into his space-cannon than anything else. He might not even know what else is going on. But you do. I saw it in your eyes.”
She ran her hand over the bar to mine, and one of her pink-painted nails tapped on my knuckles.
I pride myself at being able to read people, and her signals were pretty clear. It was pay-to-play time.
Moments like this always gave a man like me trouble. I could take her upstairs right now and have my way, then select any of several options as to how to proceed. I could tell her some tidbits, or refuse to do so and piss her off—or just lie to her and make something up. As a testimony to my dysfunctional personality, the third option did appeal.
But instead, I shrugged my shoulders and broke her spell.
“You want to get some dinner?” I asked. “Booze on an empty stomach messes me up.”
Robin looked disappointed. Her hand retreated back to her lap.
“I’m sorry I wasted your time,” she said, standing up suddenly.
“Where are you going?”
She gulped her bourbon, slammed the glass on the bar and looked at me. “I can tell you’re not going to talk. But if you change your mind, call me.”
I thought she was going to walk out mad, but she didn’t. She leaned close to my ear and spoke there with hot, alcoholic breath.
“Thanks for not screwing me—then screwing me. I’m serious about the call.”
She gave my cheek a kiss, my hand a squeeze, and she walked off. I watched her go, full of regrets. She looked even better from behind than she had from the front.
About ninety seconds after she left the bar, a man in a black suit moved in to sit on the stool she’d left behind.
“That was a good call, Leo,” the man said, without looking at me. He ordered a beer and toyed with it.
“Yeah…” I said. “This secrecy-stuff sucks. I’m not built for it. Are you one of the agents that follow me around? I haven’t noticed you before.”
“You’re wrong,” he said, ignoring my question. “You are built for keeping secrets. In fact, you’re a con-man.”
I looked at him in irritation, but I didn’t argue.
“I’ve read everything they’ve compiled on you, Blake,” he said. “Con-men are good at holding back information. Are you still holding out information now? From your own government?”
There was a hint of gloating in his tone. He was glad I’d been ditched by the reporter. Sure, he was probably just a spook assigned to shadow me, but something about him seemed to be more than that.
“What’s your name again?” I asked him.
“Smith. John Smith.”
I nodded. “I’ll tell you what, Smith, when you give me something real, I’ll return the favor.”
With that, I got up to leave, but he stood up and followed me. He waited until we were in the elevator. That’s when he snicked a knife out and went for my spine.
My hand caught his, quick as a snake. Then I whirled him around like a child and pressed him up against the elevator wall.
Sappy tunes played on the elevator speakers while we struggled, and the floors dinged by.
“Now you try to kill me?” I asked. “Why now?”
Both of us were breathing hard. I got his hand twisted up behind his back, and my other hand was on his throat.
“Not trying to kill you…” he grunted out in pain. “I was just trying to see if you’re as fast as they say…”
“Yeah? Well? Is your curiosity satisfied?”
“You’re not human. Too much strength… speed.”
“You’re full of shit,” I told him. “Come on, talk to me. Quick.”
“I made a move here because you’re on camera. I figured you wouldn’t kill me in an elevator on camera.”
I glanced at the plastic security bubble in the corner. He was right, of course. The hotel staff was probably calling the cops about now. I also noticed we’d almost reached the seventeenth floor. It was time for me to get off.
“Why’d you do it at all?” I demanded.
“To make sure you were the real Leo Blake before we talked.”
It was decision-time. I thought about the situation, and about ‘Agent Smith’ and then I made my choice.
I slammed his head against the wall of the elevator twice, hard. This shook the whole car and caused a faded copy of the hotel restaurant’s menu to clatter to the floor.
Smith slumped to the floor when I let him go, leaving a long streak of blood on the wall.
The elevator doors dinged a moment later, and I picked up the fallen menu. My eyebrows lifted speculatively.
Dry-aged steaks. That sounded good. Why wouldn’t the people in this place let me eat dinner?
The doors opened, and I stepped off. Smith’s hand shot out to stop the doors from closing. He was on the floor, and it didn’t look like he was going to be getting up without help.
“Blake…” he said.
“What?”
“Help me up, and I’ll talk to you.”
I dithered for about five seconds. Then I sighed and lifted him off the floor. He groaned, and I held him well away from my clothing. That nose of his was bleeding, bent to one side, and just plain looked awful.
“My knife,” he said. “Can you get it? Fingerprints.”
“Jesus…” I muttered, scooping the blade up and dropping it into a vestibule trashcan—outside the camera’s view. “Time to start talking—otherwise, we part company right now.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Your real name, for starters.”
He hesitated for a second, then looked me right in the eye, taking in a deep gulping breath through his mouth.
“Agent Godwin,” he said. “Paul Godwin.”
“What service?”
“Does it matter?”
I sighed. “I guess not. Listen, I’m hungry Godwin, and I’m bored with you. No hard feelings about the knife or the nose, all right? Have a better one.”
Godwin was able to stand on his own by now, proving he was a tough guy. I had to give him credit where it was due. He didn’t have an artificial symbiotic life form in his body like I did, rebuilding his cells from the inside out.
He reached out, and my hand came up to block his—but he wasn’t taking another shot at me. Instead, he tapped the menu that was still in my other hand.
“You want a steak?” he asked. “I’m buying. That’s eighty dollars for the sixteen-ounce cut.”
My stomach rumbled at the very thought. He’d found my Achilles’ heel.
His raised eyebrows continued to press the question as his fingers patted the wallet in his breast pocket.
“Company credit card…” he taunted.
“All right, but we’ll have to get you cleaned up first.”
I took Godwin to my hotel room and stood guard while he put red splotches on my white towels. I didn’t let him have any personal space. If he had a gun or something else on him, I wanted him within arm’s reach. By no means did I trust him.
He fixed himself up a bit and we headed for the restaurant on the top floor. His nose was still swollen, but it had stopped bleeding, and it looked less crooked than it had before.
“You ready to talk yet?” he asked me.
“You first.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’m part of the Project.”
“What project?” I asked, playing dumb on instinct.
“The project. Icarus.”
That was the name. Even I wasn’t supposed to know that name. I was surprised he knew about Icarus, but I still kept my poker-face on. “What’s that?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice, letting his eyes slide around to see if anyone was trying to eavesdrop before continuing.
“Come on,” he said. “I know what you brought home from space. I know more about it than you do—at least, concerning what happened to it after you handed it over at the Pentagon. Your ship was transported to a chamber underneath Cheyenne Mountain, where NORAD used to be located. Did you know about that?”
I blinked, but I kept my blank expression going. “I’m not supposed to talk about any of this.”
“Of course not. I know. But I’m here because things are going badly underground. Management has made certain—errors.”
I hesitated for a few seconds. I knew what I should do—what I should have done right off when this joker first made his play to get my attention. I should have called my emergency contact and reported in.
But he was doing it right. He’d gotten me curious.
“What errors?” I asked. “Who’s in charge?”
“Abrams is in charge.”
“Abrams? That socially-challenged control-freak who runs star-shot?”
“Yeah. The star-shot thing is a cover. Something for the press to get excited about. A distraction.”
I nodded, taking that in. It fit to some degree. It was obvious to anyone who knew about Icarus that star-shot was a joke. It was Earth-tech—outdated and pointless in the face of the knowledge we now had about our competition from the stars.
“What mistakes?” I asked him again.
“They’ve built an Earth ship—based on Hammerhead’s design, but bigger.”
“That seems like a natural first step.”
“Yeah, maybe. But they want to launch it. Right away.”
I thought about that, and I sighed. “So what?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know the answer.
“So, you’re the one who explained in your reports that the Rebels are watching Earth. That they have rules, and we’d be breaking them right off.”
“A policy fight?” I asked incredulously. “That’s what this is all about? Some director of intel sent you out here to recruit me, is that it?”
“It goes deeper than that. Trust me.”
I laughed. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said. “Trust went out the window when you tried to stab me in the back. That was a nice steak and all, but—”
“Listen, Lt. Blake,” he said. “Let’s go to the site. Let’s go there now. They’ll let you in. They’ll listen to you.”
“This is above my pay-grade,” I told him, standing up. “Talk to the President, or someone else in charge.”
It was about then that I noticed Godwin had something under the table we’d both been sitting around. It was a black cylinder, but it wasn’t gun-shaped. It looked more like a small spray-bottle. What was he going to do with that?
Whatever he was thinking, I could tell he was getting ready to pull the trigger. His face was set, angry. His eyes were sliding around, checking out the patrons.
“Ha!” I said, pointing over his shoulder. “It’s about time the cops showed up. It took the hotel security people long enough to call them. Slackers.”
The con worked. Godwin cranked his neck around to see the phantom cops.
My hand shot out, giving him a hard rap on the temple. His eyes widened, and he slumped gently to one side. By the time he’d slid under the table completely, someone noticed and thought he was choking or something. A waitress started shouting and fussing.
I was half-way to the exit by then.
“He’ll pay,” I told a stunned-looking hostess, jerking a thumb at the comatose Godwin. “His credit card is in his breast-pocket.”
I beat a hasty retreat toward the elevator lobby after that, but took the stairs instead of the elevator. There were blue and red flashers outside the building, but no sirens. It was time to skip out of here.
I left my luggage and my rental car. That hurt, but I didn’t feel like answering any more questions tonight. Not from the cops, or anyone else.
=3=
Out on the streets of Santa Fe in the cool night air, it was just me and the crickets. I reached for my phone, deciding it was time to make that call I’d been putting off. Washington had to hear about this.
But it didn’t take me long to realize my phone was gone.
“Dammit,” I said, growling.
I stopped walking and looked back toward the hotel. Two cop cars were in the parking lot, lights spinning. Going back now wasn’t an optimal solution. Someone had to have recognized me—after all, I was mildly famous.
I took out the card Robin had left me and checked the address. She was staying in another hotel just down the street.
The walk took nearly twenty minutes, but it left me invigorated. The dry mountain air was clean, and it reminded me of my home town of Evergreen in Colorado.
When I got to the front desk, I charmed the clerk and phoned Robin’s room. She answered before it beeped more than once.
“You changed your mind?” she asked, her voice sultry.
“Well… let’s just say the world changed it for me. Could you take me out of here?”
“Out of the hotel?”
The clerk was eyeing me, but without any kind of star-struck expression. She looked more suspicious than anything else. Maybe my image was already playing on the local news.
“Yeah…” I told Robin, turning away from the clerk. “I’ll meet you out front, okay? I’ll be taking a little walk down the highway.”
She paused. “You’re in trouble again, aren’t you?”
“Nah.”
But my lie was instantly revealed. Someone in the police department had changed their minds about the lack of sirens—or maybe it was an ambulance for Godwin this time. I heard a growing wail crossing the city. Apparently, Robin heard it too.
“Shit,” she said, “I’ll be right down.”
I hung up, thanked the clerk, and moved quickly out the front door.
Robin meant business. Not three minutes later, she pulled up in her car and popped the door open.
“Get in, you crazy bastard,” she said.
“You really shouldn’t be picking up strange men, Miss.” I smirked as I got in.
She gunned it and tore out of there before I could yank the door closed. We were doing seventy before one highway joined another, and we vanished into traffic.
“You can slow down,” I told her. “No one is following.”
She looked at me nervously. “What’s this all about? Alien trouble?”
“I do like some of their women,” I said. “And that tends piss off the rest of the Kher—but you know they aren’t technically aliens, right? You keep calling them that. Genetically, they’re our long-lost cousins.”
Robin shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know why I picked you up. You’ll probably kill me now, right? Or will something else spring out of the road, grow tentacles and invade my body?”
I chuckled. “Nothing is chasing us now except men with guns.”
“And you don’t care about that?”
“I’ve been in worse spots. Could you give me my phone back?”
She eyed me for a second, then fished it out of her purse and tossed it at me. I caught it out of the air and began tapping at it.
“You dropped it at the bar,” she said.
“You left before I did.”
“Well… I went back, and you weren’t there so the bartender—”
“Right…” I said, putting an end to her embarrassing lies.
She fell silent for a while, and she eyed me as I tapped in a series of digits then lifted it to my ear. The phone recognized the code. It wasn’t a normal phone number, and it wouldn’t show up on my recently-called list—not on my phone, or any cellular network.
Instead of ringing, the phone went silent, then clicked once. I was connected.
“Code?” asked a quiet voice.
“Orion,” I replied.
“Hold, please.”
Why were government types always in love with the hold button? To my way of thinking, Alexander Graham’s first words to his assistant should have been hold, please.
Robin’s eyes were flicking from me to the road and back again. She must have tried to get any information she could have out of my phone, but failed. That wasn’t surprising. It was the kind of equipment they only gave to undercover agents. It looked normal, but had some special programming in the firmware.
“Operator,” a male voice said about two minutes later.
“This is Lieutenant Leo Blake, US Navy, active.”
“Yes, Lt. Blake. What’s your emergency?”
“I need a safe destination. I’ve gotten into a little trouble—”
“We’ve seen the reports from your location. We stopped following you three weeks ago, and right away, you’ve got attempted murder and fleeing the scene on your list. Why don’t you—?”
“I was attacked,” I said. “A knife, from behind.”
The operator fell silent.
I didn’t know his name. I didn’t even know his codename. He was just the guy who was always there when I dialed in and used my code word.
“Attacked? There were reports from the hotel earlier about an assault in the elevator—that was you, too? Why didn’t you call in then?”
I glanced at Robin sourly. “Someone had stolen my phone. I’ve got it back, and I’m uninjured, but I want to come in. I don’t know what’s going on out here.”
I could tell I finally had his attention. His voice tones became professional.
“Right… Okay, right. Protocol maps you to the closest federal institution.”
“Don’t send me to some Santa Fe FBI office full of janitors and the midnight shift.”
“Agreed… We’re sending you back to the labs.”
“They’re closed.”
He laughed. “We’ve got aliens in the skies, Blake. The national labs are never closed these days. There’ll be a pass waiting for you at the gate. Don’t try to crash it.”
I looked at Robin.
“I’ve got a companion,” I said. “Can you make that two passes?”
The man on the other end of the line sighed. “You picked up some piece of tail, didn’t you?”
“I like tail,” I said, thinking of Mia.
Robin frowned at me suspiciously.
“Shit, Blake. You’re so much trouble. All right, she’ll get in, but she’s going to be shunted out of the way and watched.”
“That’s a good idea. One more thing?”
“What’s that?”
“Who’s Agent Godwin?”
The line went quiet. It was so silent, that I thought for a second it’d gone dead.
“Operator, are you there?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll make some inquiries. Get to the labs.”
The line went dead, and Robin was freaking out next to me.
“What the hell was that all about?” she demanded. “What kind of cloak-and-dagger shit are you into? And what was all that about a tail?”
I shrugged.
“Tail is your codename,” I told her with a straight face. “Everyone has a codename when they get close to something big like this.”
To my surprise, she bought it.
“Tail? I’m Tail? What’s your codename?”
I’d picked up my name from some agents long ago.
“Jawbreaker,” I said firmly.
“Tail is unfair, and it’s sexist.”
“Yeah…” I agreed. “But the names fit, don’t they?”
Robin drove on, disgruntled, and she began peppering me with questions. I deflected them all like a master ping-pong player. She was left unsatisfied by the time we reached the gates of Los Alamos.
A brilliant searchlight splashed over the car, which Robin wisely slid into park. Men in heavy boots stepped out to encircle us, their automatic rifles unslung.
The lab hadn’t always had this much security, I’d been told, but they’d stepped it up after the men from the stars had begun making unannounced visits.
After we’d identified ourselves to the duty sergeant, the guards made us get into the back of a Humvee, and they drove us up to TA 91. That was Technical Area 91, the region staked out for the star-shot project.
I couldn’t help but wonder, as we mounted the cracked concrete steps, if old Doc Abrams was still rattling around the place, crying about his broken space-cannon.
=4=
Dr. Abrams was waiting inside when we arrived. He eyed Robin with almost as much suspicion as he did me.
“You met with Agent Godwin?” he asked me the moment we walked in. “What’s your relationship with him?”
I shrugged. “He’s been following me for a few weeks. I thought he was just one more spook from the Shop. But I got a funny feeling about him, like he had his own agenda.”
“Everything he did or said was absolutely unauthorized,” Abrams snapped. “What did he tell you?”
“The most interesting information concerned you, Doc. He sure seemed to know a lot about you.”
Dr. Abrams stiffened. He pointed a long finger at Robin.
“Blake, remember who this is. She’s a reporter. She might have helped you tonight, but you have to keep your head clear—if that’s even possible for you in the presence of a young female.”
Robin looked huffy.
“I guess I’ll step outside and have a cigarette, then,” she said, taking a pack out of her purse. She placed her purse on the table then walked out.
I watched her leave, and I noticed Abrams doing the same. He was old and sour, but he could still appreciate a fine rear end when it presented itself.
It occurred to me while we admired the view that Robin was walking with a serious swing to her hips. Was that on purpose? Was she trying to get our attention?
The second she’d left, I opened her purse. Abrams made a tsking sound, but I lifted up her cellphone. It was on and running a voice-recording app.
Abrams made a small, growling sound.
I spoke to the device. “Tail? This is Jawbreaker. You owe me one for stealing my phone.”
Then I switched it off and put it back into her purse. I turned back to Abrams.
“You see?” he demanded. “You brought her here. You brought a reporter here due to a weakness, a character-flaw that—”
“Doc, I turned it off. We’re in the clear. Now, let’s talk for real. You’re running project Icarus, right? And the new ship is being built at Cheyenne? I’d love to see her. From what I understand, she’s based on Hammerhead’s design.”
I’d never seen Abrams look so shocked. His eyes popped, and he was speechless for a second. When he started to sputter, I kept going.
“You’re coming in loud and clear,” I told him, “thanks. Now then, I guess your reaction to Godwin is for real? And our new ship is for real, too? She’s ready to fly, isn’t she? Who would want to stop her from leaving Earth’s surface? Who’s worried that the Kher won’t like it?”
“Blake…” Abrams said when he got himself under control, “you can’t talk about any of this. No one is to know about Icarus. And I’m not confirming anything else you just said.”
I chuckled. “You don’t have to confirm anything,” I told him. “You should make a note to yourself never to play poker, Doc—not with anyone, ever.”
“Stop calling me that. I hate that codename.”
I froze for a second, and then I realized it must be true. The agents called him “Doc.”
“Right, Doc,” I said. “So… how about it? Are you going to show me this new ship, or what?”
He made a blurringly fast movement with his fingers in the air. I figured he was frustrated.
“All right,” he said, “maybe you can help. There are politics involved, and you’re a political animal. This laser—”
He pointed to the cannon they’d worked on so hard today, which was now silent and dead-looking, canted at a nearly vertical angle up through the ceiling.
“—it isn’t as useless as you and others seem to believe. It’s part of Icarus. A critical part, in my opinion.”
I sat back and nodded, looking at the gigantic cylinder as if I cared. “Go on.”
“You see, it isn’t firing at other star systems—not directly. It’s supposed to fire probes at interstellar jump points. At what you would call a stellar flux.”
Now, he finally had my interest.
“You’re firing this thing at rips in space-time? Why would you do that?”
He gestured for me to quiet down, and I did.
“I see you grasp the significance. We can’t throw our new ship toward the stars without knowing anything about where it’s going. We only have one ship—how can we risk it by sending it off into the unknown on her maiden voyage?”
“All right, I get the reasoning, but where are these rips coming from?”
“As you know, we’re being watched by your Kher. Now and then a ship comes to check on us. They do this at random intervals—but the frequency has been increasing.”
“Due to your experiments?”
He shrugged. “Doubtful. But some people have made that objection.”
I was beginning to catch on. There was a battle going on within the project group, and Doctor Abrams was on the side who favored taking risks. In that case, I’d usually count him as an ally, as I often favored risky strategies myself.
“Tell me more,” I said. “How can you detect these Kher intrusions?”
He looked down briefly, then seemed to come to a decision. He lifted his chin defiantly. “The government has known about the visitations for some time. Only after they showed themselves openly, however, were we given a budget to track them. We now have the capacity to sense any entry into local space—at least anything going on among the inner planets of the Solar System.”
“Okay… You’re using satellites, then?”
“Of course. You’ve heard of secret military launches for years, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they weren’t all hanging over Asia looking for ICBM activity.”
“I see... Tell me about—”
“That’s enough from me. Are you willing to help me or not? If I bring you into this project, will you help me achieve my goals?”
That was a hard question to answer. After all, I didn’t know exactly what he was planning. But if I refused him now, or demanded more information, he might change his mind. A man on the outside had zero chance of getting into the vaults beneath Cheyenne Mountain. You simply must have an invitation to go to that party.
“I will,” I said firmly.
He frowned. “No objections? No demands?”
“None. I want in. I brought the original ship home, and I did that to help Earth build her own fleet. I’d be happy to do whatever I can to further that goal.”
Abrams allowed himself a flickering smile. “This is a welcome surprise, Blake,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, if you would be so kind…?”
He pointed to the door. As I headed toward the exit, I ran into Robin. She wasn’t alone, however. She had two guards flanking her, hustling her roughly back into the building. They looked pissed off and very serious.
=5=
“Doctor Abrams?” asked one of the men. “We caught this woman with a surveillance device. She was listening outside your office.”
Abrams made his fingers dance again. “Oh that, yes, we discovered her phone and turned it off.”
Robin looked down. “I want to see a lawyer,” she said. “There’s a free press in this country for a reason.”
Frowning, I began pawing in her purse again. She squawked about it, but I ignored her. I found another device, a transmitter attached to one of those cellphone recharging batteries. I held it up, and she shrugged.
“I must have left it on by mistake,” she said evenly. “I’m a reporter. Reporters carry recording devices. Is anyone even surprised?”
“This could be a felony,” one of the guards said, taking the device from me.
“I didn’t sign any non-disclosures when I came in here,” Robin said with some alarm.
“That may not matter. We’ve passed some new, tough legislation since the aliens showed up. Ever heard of the Non-human Protocols? You must know about that.”
She didn’t meet our eyes. “I’ll destroy all of it.”
“Not good enough,” said the guard. He took her cell, her devices, and put them all in a trashcan. Then he found a hammer the techs had used on the space cannon and crunched the contents of the trashcan, smashing the devices to scrap.
“Still not good enough,” Abrams said. “She’ll report everything she’s seen and heard the moment she gets off this compound. Place her under arrest.”
“Hold on a second, Doc,” I said. “I got her into this, and I—”
He whirled around on me. “Yes, you did. I’m glad you’re at least taking responsibility. You’ve been in our new federal facilities—the ones we dug underground, right?”
He was talking about the special ‘detention areas’ where the government had put Lt. Commander Jones. I’d helped get him out of there, along with many others who’d been mentally affected by the Kher and their symbiotic implants.
“Yeah, I’ve been down there.”
“That’s where this woman is headed—and it’s your fault for insisting she come here.”
“I’ve got rights!” Robin complained. “You can’t hold me without due process. You can’t—”
“The Non-human Protocols contain many clauses regarding special circumstances,” Abrams said. “Among them is the suspension of rights when enemy combatants from off-world are identified. This includes not just aliens, but their agents here on Earth as well.”
“You’re calling me an alien spy? Are you serious?”
“Individuals have been identified. The law is the law,” Abrams said flatly.
My lips twisted up in anger at last. “I’m out then,” I said. “I’m not helping you achieve your goals, Doc.”
He looked surprised. So did Robin.
“I thought you said you didn’t have a sexual relationship with this woman,” Abrams said.
One of the guards coughed politely, but everyone ignored him.
“I’m standing on principle,” I said. “She’s made some mistakes, but she’s no alien spy.”
Abrams was annoyed. He put his skinny hands on his skinny hips and looked at us like errant children.
“What do you suggest we do with her, Blake?”
“I’ll take her with me into the project area. Give us both clearances.”
He scoffed and shook his head.
“Aren’t you listening?” I demanded. “Give her full clearances, and have her sign up for complete secrecy. If she violates the oath, you can jail her and throw away the key. That way you’re certain she won’t report what she learned here tonight.”
“I can’t sign something like that!” she objected. “I’m a reporter.”
“Not anymore, you’re not,” I told her. “Think about it this way, you’ll have inside information. If it ever goes public, you’ll be able to write a book about it.”
“That’s unlikely,” Abrams said. “But in any case, your scheme won’t work. What kind of job would she be suited for? We have techs, and they’re all trained and reliable. Even the janitorial staff—”
Robin was about to explode again, and I lifted my hands to settle both of them down.
“How about a PR handler?” I asked. “We aren’t making announcements now, but we’ll have to later when this thing flies. At some point, we’ll have to go public and she can prepare for that day.”
Abrams sucked in a breath and let it go. I could tell he thought it would be simpler to throw Robin into a dungeon and lose the key to her cell.
“All right,” he said finally. “But let’s not screw up like this in the future, Blake. You can’t spread this around. Unreliable people can’t be allowed to know what’s going on—at least not yet.”
“Agreed,” I said, putting my hand out to shake with him.
He left me high and dry, turning back to his work. “Meet me here in the morning, we leave from the heliport at seven.”
I took Robin outside the second the guards let go of her arms. They escorted us to the gates without so much as grunting at us.
When we were back in her car, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“I don’t like thank-yous,” she said, “but I really do owe you one.”
“Glad to hear you realize that. You took a huge chance back there with that recording equipment. These people aren’t fooling around.”
“No… What about Abrams? Do you think he’ll work all night in there?”
I looked back at the installation. There were lights on here and there among the various labs. One of them was his office, I was sure of that.
“I don’t think his kind sleeps much,” I said. “The undead are like that.”
She laughed, and she drove us down to her hotel. I didn’t object, as I didn’t have anywhere else to stay.
She invited me in, and I again made no objection. Then she began undressing herself, and me, one piece of clothing at a time.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked her.
“You can stop me anytime you want.”
I never did stop her. It was nice, and we soon stretched out on her bed on top of the covers and began dreaming.
=6=
The next morning, I was startled awake by a beeping noise. It was my phone—I’d set an alarm.
Daylight was sending a blue glow around the curtains. The shower was hissing, and Robin was clearly using it.
When we’d showered and dressed, we barely had time to eat in the car on the way up to the labs again. She’d packed all her stuff, and I envied her for having stuff to pack. I was wearing yesterday’s suit as I was still too paranoid to go back to my hotel and risk arrest.
When we got to the labs, the helicopter was on the pad with blades whirling slowly. It had just landed.
Abrams looked at his watch—he wore one regularly.
“You’re late,” he complained.
“Only by four minutes,” Robin said.
He looked at her sternly.
“I’m not talking to you. I don’t like waiting, Blake. I demand that my employees show respect by not wasting my time.”
Robin bit her lip but said nothing. I guess there was a first time for everything.
We got into the helicopter, and I was surprised to see a familiar set of luggage in the back.
“Hey…” I said in surprise. “This is my stuff!”
“I made certain calls to the police,” Abrams explained. “They’d confiscated your belongings… but I made arrangements. All charges have been dropped.”
“Uh… thanks.”
Abrams nodded coldly, and the helicopter soon took off. At high altitude, these things had a harder time flying, but our ship did fine. It was a government-transport bird.
Cheyenne Mountain was about two hundred miles north. It would have taken six hours in a car, but we made it in about an hour by helicopter. The Rocky Mountains were stark and beautiful out the window as they passed below us.
Robin was staring, but she shivered now and then. She hadn’t worn warm enough clothing for travel over the mountains.
When we finally arrived, we were taken into the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station. We were left in an antiseptic room with flickering fluorescent lights, and after a while we were given statements and contracts to sign. After a briefing, we were left alone to sign the docs.
I signed right away—after all, we didn’t have much choice.
“From this point onward, the government owns our asses,” I told Robin.
She looked alarmed. It was a predicament I was used to, having served in the Navy for years, but it was new to Robin.
“Should we do this?” she whispered to me.
“What choice do we have? You want to go to an underground prison?”
“What about you? They won’t do anything to you. They can’t—you’re a hero.”
“Well… they could think of something, believe me.”
She put her pen down before signing. She leaned back and crossed her arms.
“I’m holding out. I’ll negotiate. Lawyers can be wonderful things.”
I looked her over thoughtfully. I whistled and stood up, offering my hand. She frowned at it.
“I’m impressed,” I told her. “I didn’t count you as the stubborn-prisoner type. I guess I was wrong.”
“They won’t put me in prison,” she said doubtfully.
“No… they won’t. Not exactly. Let me tell you what these special detention areas are like.”
I described them to her from memory. I’d been down there, in those dark vaults underground. The people kept there were a different breed. Many of them, like my old friend Lt. Commander Jones, had been infected with a symbiotic by the Kher. I’d done my best to free them from captivity, by freeing their minds of their syms.
She listened in shock.
“Is this information classified?” she asked me.
“Not really. It’s not widely known, however. The people involved were the contest losers, so no one really cared what happened to them. All the media attention was on the winners who went into space—like me.”
“That could make a great story…” she said, her eyes alight with ideas. “I could do a lot with just that.”
“You could,” I said, “but probably not until the terms of this contract are met. Did you see the end date?”
“Yeah. Something like four years. That’s crazy.”
I shrugged. “It feels like it goes by fast when you’re in the middle of it.”
She made a rude noise with her lips.
I was getting tired of her attitude, so I left her there to think about it. When I exited the room, she was tapping her pen on her contract irritably, making tiny black dots on the paper.
Outside the room, I was met by a familiar face. It was none other than Lt. Commander Jones, a tall, powerfully built black man who was pushing fifty years old.
“Is that you, Jones?” I shouted, gripping his hand. “It’s great to see you. You’re looking very fit!”
He shook my hand firmly. We grinned at each other, and I noticed he was back in his Navy uniform. That was a surprise. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been half-crazy and locked in a cell.
“Good to see you too, Lieutenant,” he said. “I’ve been waiting outside this room for quite a while. I was beginning to wonder if you and that reporter were having relations in there.”
“No such luck, sir. The problem is she doesn’t want to sign. She doesn’t understand that the people here are serious.”
“We are serious, Blake. Dead serious.”
We exchanged glances again, and that’s when I realized Jones was on the project.
“You’re in on all this then?” I asked. “Not just visiting?”
He laughed. “This place isn’t Disneyland. Everyone here is in an official capacity—including you now.”
“I see. I’m kind of surprised that you—well…”
“You don’t have to say it,” he said, straightening his spine. “I’m not the man I was down in that cell the last time we met. It took me months to convince people of that, but they’ve come to believe it. They brought me in because I’ve been to space, if only briefly. I am, in fact, the highest ranking human officer to ever have been aboard a Kher ship.”
I nodded thoughtfully.
Jones moved to a wall and touched it. The wall appeared to melt away, and revealed Robin, sitting in a small chamber. She looked pissed, worried and bored all at once.
I blinked at that. I would have to remember it wasn’t the mirrors that were see-thru down here. The walls themselves were spying on you.
“Don’t worry about your friend,” Jones said while we watched her without her knowledge. “She’ll come around, or you won’t be seeing her again for a while. Either way, we’ve got more important things to discuss.”
He marched me down to the vaults. We took a jeep-ride into the mountain itself. It was strange, entering this Cold War relic. It was the ultimate bomb-shelter, dug into hard granite. When we got to the bottom, we were under two thousand feet of rock. A five acre facility was hidden there.
“We’ve done some modifications—some drilling,” Jones told me on the way down. “The ship itself is being built in modular sections. We’ll take her up to the surface when she’s ready, and assemble her at Peterson in Colorado Springs.”
“Right… and just how close are you to finishing her?”
He looked troubled. “Some would say we’re ready now.”
“But others want to hang back?” I prompted. “They want to keep her grounded in this hole?”
Jones shrugged. “That’s not my call. I’m a consultant here, not in charge. I would suggest you keep your opinions to yourself on the matter as well.”
“Got it, sir,” I said crisply.
When you lie, it’s always best to do it with complete certainty in your voice. Internally, I’d already decided to inquire further into this squabble about how and when we should reveal the new ship. After all, that was the reason Abrams had brought me here—not to mention the reason some joker named Godwin had tried to stab me in the back.
We started the tour after that, and I couldn’t help but notice the vaults were different than they’d looked during the Cold War. I’d only seen pictures, but the place had been modernized. Instead of dim-lit rooms, natural rock and consoles lined with operators, I saw a central area with a catwalk running around it. Up along the catwalk were numerous offices enclosed in glass. The offices had blinds, but most of them were open.
There was lots of steel tubing everywhere. The stairways, catwalks, even the railing around the various workstations was made of it. I guessed that made sense—the place was built to last.
There were a few big screens on one wall of the main operations room, and they depicted a high resolution imagery of Earth as seen from various satellites. Some of the images were wire diagrams, laying out the Solar System—or at least Earth’s local space.
“That’s the Moon, Mars, Venus…” I said, studying the planets circling our stylized-looking star. “But what are those dots? The green, red, blue contacts?”
Most of the contacts circled Earth, but others were much farther out. Some of the red ones, in particular, were almost off the map.
“You don’t miss much,” Jones said, walking with me to the screens.
We craned our necks and looked up. He pointed.
“The red ones are enemy contacts. See the names? Beta, Tango, November-2.”
“Enemies? Russian or Chinese?”
He looked at me in surprise. “No, no,” he said. “Those nations aren’t our enemies these days—rivals yes, but not dangerous. The green dots are our probes. The blue dots are from other nations on Earth. We’re all essentially allied and sharing data now.”
“And the red ones?”
“Those are alien,” he said. “Of unknown origin.”
I stared up at the map of the heavens with him in silence. The magnitude of it gave me a chill.
Sure, I’d been out there. I’d been abducted by the Kher and press-ganged into their armada—but I hadn’t thought about them keeping tabs on Earth. I mean, it only made sense—but it was kind of frightening.
=7=
They didn’t let me see the ship right off. I wanted to—but maybe they didn’t fully trust me yet. I could have told them that was a good instinct.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I’ve always been loyal to Earth and respected as a man who could get a difficult job done. But with all that said and done, I wasn’t the most reliable guy around when it came to keeping secrets and following orders with precision.
Jones showed me to my quarters. “Someone will come get you for lunch,” he said, and left me there.
The room was beyond tight. It was hard to turn around without bumping your head, butt or elbows into something, and when I sat on the narrow bunk my knees were almost touching the opposite wall
“Stateroom my ass…” I muttered as I unpacked my luggage.
The cubicle was a private one at least, but it reminded me of something a junior officer might be assigned to in the Navy—aboard an obsolete submarine. I knew they had a limited amount of space inside this facility, but they had a whole mountain to hollow out. One would think they could have drilled a decent set of living quarters.
When I finished organizing my meager belongings, there wasn’t much to do. Jones hadn’t exactly ordered me to stay in my quarters, and I honestly could have used a nap—but that was out of the question. The situation was too enticing.
Accordingly, I popped out into the hallway and took a look around.
I glanced left and saw no one. But when I looked right, Abrams was standing alarmingly close in his white lab coat.
His hands were clasped behind his back, and he wore an especially sour look on his face.
“Just over seven minutes,” he said. “That might be a facility-wide record, Blake.”
I glanced at the wall he was standing beside. On the far side of it was my bunk, visible right through the translucent wall.
“You haven’t been peeping again, have you, Doc?” I asked.
“Very funny. I was worried about this. You haven’t been given full clearance in this facility, but already you’ve begun to disobey implicit—”
“Could you show me the way to the head, Doc?” I asked innocently. “It’s been a long trip, and I’ve had three cups of coffee this morning.”
He eyed me critically. I could tell he wasn’t buying my excuse, but at least he stopped complaining. He led me to the restroom, and I made a grand show of taking a leak.
When I stepped out again, I’d dared to hope he would be gone. But that wasn’t in the cards. He told me it was time to eat lunch, and he dogged me all the way to the mess hall.
We consumed a better-than-average military meal, and I asked him when I’d be allowed to see my old ship again.
“You want to see Hammerhead?” he asked. “Not the new vessel?”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve done all right with the design,” I said. “But whatever you’ve come up with can’t compare to Hammerhead. Let’s admit it.”
He looked at me like he’d swallowed a bug.
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Your ship is just a cheap Earth-made knock-off, right? As long as it’s serviceable and not too clunky, I guess it will—”
My words seemed to injure his pride. He became instantly defensive.
“We’ve improved on several design elements!” he said loudly. “The propulsion system is larger, but ten percent more efficient by weight. That’s enough to propel the vessel with nearly as great an acceleration curve as your so-called fighter-class Hammerhead. Further—”
“That much power, huh?” I interrupted, chewing on a roll. The rolls weren’t half-bad if you laid down a thick coat of butter. “I guess you must have duplicated the anti-grav system then.”
His face drooped, and he shut up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You’ve struck a nerve,” he admitted. “We haven’t been able to duplicate the Kher’s anti-grav system. The physics are very delicate, involving interlacing self-perpetuating fields of strong and weak-force—”
“That all sounds cool, Doc,” I said, “but do you realize you can’t fly this ship at anywhere near her maximum acceleration without anti-grav?”
“Others have made this point. There’s no need—”
“We’ll be the proverbial spam-in-a-can if you try!” I said, shaking my head. “The G-forces will kill the crew.”
He narrowed his eyes, and he stared at me for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
He leaned back and sighed.
“I’ve made a mistake,” he said. “I should have seen this coming, but I didn’t. I think your application to work here will have to be revoked, Blake.”
“What?” I demanded. “You wanted me to help you out. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course, but I was operating under a misconception. I realize now that you’re not here to see Earth’s first ship launched successfully. You want to fly her yourself. That’s utterly impossible.”
I thought about that. I seemed to recall, a few sentences back, that I had said something about “we” being spam-in-a-can, not a generic crew.
“That’s crazy talk,” I told him. “I know I’m not qualified, and I’m not even interested. I’ve had enough of flying among the stars. It’s dangerous out there, you know?”
He didn’t look like he believed me. He was no dummy. “It’s probably best we abort this entire thing—”
“Ah!” I hooted. “I get it. You can’t take any criticism about your project, right? I understand. Lots of techie types get upset when someone says a bad word about their big metal babies. If that’s how it is, I don’t want to work on Icarus anyway.”
He glowered at me, and we both fell silent for nearly a minute. I’d called his bluff, and I could tell he was thinking it over carefully. While he did so, I buttered up a fresh roll.
“All right,” he snapped at last. “You can stay. But let’s be clear. You’re not going to be a crewman on this new vessel. That is never going to happen. You showed too much irresponsible behavior when you were part of the Rebel Fleet. We can’t stomach any similar games here. Do you understand me?”
“I hear you, Doc. Loud and clear.”
“All right then. Let’s go downstairs.”
I didn’t know there was a “downstairs,” but I followed him curiously. He led me to a spot where fresh drilling was evident. The rock here was roughhewn and lighter in color. The rest of it had that darker, slicker look of stone that had been polished and oxidized by decades of human habitation.
A steel staircase led down into gloom. I followed Abrams, and as we walked, lights flickered into life ahead of us and flickered out behind.
“This is the new section, where we’ve done fresh drilling.”
“Excuse me, Doc,” I said, “but it occurs to me it would be kind of difficult to squeeze a ship of any real size out of this hole.”
“There’s another shaft that leads directly up to the main ramp and the exit. It hasn’t been breached yet to join the primary passageway. When we’re ready, we’ll link the two tunnels and take the modules out of the mountain.”
“That sounds like a plan, but building this craft in a hangar would be a lot simpler.”
He stopped and turned to face me. “You’re right. But we couldn’t chance it. Jones showed you their surveillance probes, didn’t he? Those spy systems would detect anything we assembled on the surface. This location was the best bet we had to prevent that.”
I shut up and let him lead me down into the gloom. I figured we had to be a good five stories below the main complex when we finally came out into a large chamber.
There, I saw the most amazing sight. It wasn’t a complete, assembled ship, but the bones were all there. I could see them plainly.
They’d built the ship in modules. Each of them was about the size of a moving van, more or less. There was a crew quarters, an engine section for the tail—no, there were two of those. One for each side, I guessed. There were also large cylindrical tanks that might be for holding propellants, gases…
“What’s that thing over there?” I asked. “The polyhedron?”
“That’s the core of the sensor array.”
“It looks big and exposed. What kind of warship has something that big on the outside?”
He looked at me like I was some kind of idiot. “This isn’t a battlewagon, Blake. This is a vessel of exploration. It has minimal armament.”
My mouth sagged open. Everything I knew about the big bright universe beyond our star system indicated it was a maelstrom of chaos.
“This thing can’t fight?” I demanded. “How are you going to keep it from being blown up?”
Abrams gave me a sinister, knowing smile. “Your reports aided us in that area. We studied what we knew of this vessel’s technology, and we reviewed designs buried deep within Hammerhead’s data core as well. We built this ship along those standards.”
I put my hands on my hips and walked around it, mentally assembling the various pieces. After a full minute, with Abrams looking in quietly, I turned to him.
“I’ve got it,” I said. “You guys are crazy.”
“You recognize this vessel?”
“Damned straight I do. This is the sneakiest, most-evil and hated kind of ship in the galaxy. You built a phase-ship, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. You’ve fought with them before. They weren’t so easy to deal with, despite very light weaponry.”
I looked back at the modules, trying to envision the entire finished ship. It would be long, and lean, but not as big as her sisters in the Imperial Fleet.
They were building a phase-ship down here in the dark. A ship that could use stealth by remaining partly in hyperspace and partly in normal space. A sneaky, evil ship built to surprise the unwary, or to flee silently away from danger.
Phase-ships were slow, but they were dangerous when they managed to get in close. I figured the Earth scientists had looked at all their options and chosen this design for their first foray into space.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about all that, as I’d hated phase-ships from the first time I’d encountered them, and so did everyone else who’d ever served in the Rebel Fleet.
=8=
“I get it now,” I told Abrams. “I get the whole story. This ship is all about sneaking around. Why did you guys put such a big sensor array on it? Well, because it’s more of a spy than anything else.”
“Exactly,” Abrams said, stepping forward and running his hands over the sleek, dark hull. “We need information, Blake. Surely even you can see that. We’re blind in this universe, at the mercy of every larger, older civilization out there.”
It did make a kind of sense. A sneaky spy-ship could bring home valuable intelligence.
But I didn’t believe that was all Earth-Com had in mind. This kind of ship could be deadly and cheap to build as well.
When the Germans had decided they couldn’t afford to build a serious Navy of capital ships to face the Allies in World War Two, they’d built U-boats instead. Similarly, stealth could allow Earth to participate in interstellar conflicts without having to play fair.
“I don’t know,” I told Abrams, shaking my head. “The Kher aren’t going to like this.”
He came close, and his manner became intense.
“We know that,” he snapped. “Don’t you think we know that? We’ve scanned the catalogues of Rebel ships. They don’t seem to build phase-ships, deeming them to be dishonorable.”
“But you figured you don’t have any choice. Not if you’re going to compete with the big boys.”
He backed off. “We don’t have to compete—not at first. For now we only need to know where the enemy is, how many ships they have... That sort of thing.”
I eyed the phase-ship warily. “This thing could start a war just by being discovered by the wrong planetary Navy. You are aware, Dr. Abrams, that these ships are more than frowned upon by the Rebel worlds? They’re considered evil inventions of the Imperials.”
He pursed his lips in irritation. “Perhaps bringing you here was a mistake after all.”
“No, it wasn’t,” said a voice behind me.
We both turned to confront an Air Force General. His name was Vega, and he was the same two-star who’d I’d met long ago on the Pentagon lawn. His head was shaved as closely as you could get to bald without being bald. A crew-cut so tight you could see right through to the shiny scalp below.
Behind him another familiar officer trailed—Lt. Commander Jones. They both looked to be in very serious moods.
“It was our impression as well that this ship wouldn’t be received well by the Kher,” the General said. “Your concerns are therefore noted, and they’re valid. But we felt we had to do it, Blake. We had to take the chance. If any of these other planets decide to conquer us, we’re virtually helpless without a space-going Navy.”
It was true, of course. I took a deep breath and listened to what they all had to say. They were taking chances—but every day that Earth lived without a fleet of her own was considered to be an even greater risk.
We gathered at a meeting room about an hour later. Abrams was there, along with Jones and General Vega. A few other staff flunkies sat stiffly in seats on either side of them. The flunkies were listening intently, but they stayed quiet. I had the feeling this was the battle I’d heard about, and that it had been going on for quite some time.
“The time to launch is now,” Abrams said. “We’re virtually finished with the vessel.”
“We’ve yet to fully train a crew, or defeat the anti-grav technical problem,” Vega objected.
Abrams shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. We’ll fly her slowly, well under her engine’s output capacity. If she’s going to suffer a system failure, we need to know now. We need a test flight even at low speeds.”
“Can I say something?” I asked.
“Certainly, Lieutenant,” General Vega prompted.
“I hope this isn’t out of line, but I’m one of the very few Earthers who’ve flown a vessel like this in open space. In fact, I’ve fought with and defeated a phase-ship very much like this one—”
“Dammit Blake!” exclaimed Dr. Abrams.
The other two looked at him in surprise.
“What’s the problem, Doctor?” Vega asked him, glowering in annoyance.
Abrams aimed a long finger at me and made jabbing motions as he spoke. “I knew I couldn’t trust you! You promised you wouldn’t attempt to secure yourself a position on the crew of this vessel. I’ve done studies of every astronaut on NASA’s roster, as well as ship’s crewmen and Air Force people. You’re not on my list for consideration.”
“Well Doc,” I said, looking innocent and surprised. “I have to say, I had no such intentions. All I was suggesting was that I might be able to consult on the piloting of the vessel, having actually been in contact with them in open space. But now that you’ve brought it up, there is some merit in what you’re suggesting—”
“Shut up, Blake! I’m not suggesting anything!”
By this time, General Vega was pissed off. “Abrams, could you excuse us?”
Abrams stared at him. I could feel the tension.
These two clearly didn’t get along. I could see right away why. The technical term for Abrams personality type was “dick” and that couldn’t help but irritate Vega. From the commanding way that Vega ordered him out, however, I calculated that the military man was the one with the final say.
With poor grace, Abrams withdrew from the meeting and disappeared. General Vega looked at me speculatively for a moment.
I returned his hard stare with an affable look of my own.
He nodded at last, then ordered everyone else out—everyone except for me.
“I’ve read your profile, Blake,” he said. “You’re trouble. Everywhere you go, things break, and people get upset.”
“Then why didn’t you throw me out of here too, General?”
He squinted at me. “Because I still think you can be useful. You know I’ve been fighting with Abrams about launching this ship. He wants to do it now. I want to wait. What’s your opinion?”
“What would be gained by waiting, sir?” I asked.
He looked down. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Ever since you brought Hammerhead down to Earth and gave her to me, that question has haunted every high-ranking officer in the service. They gave me command of this rat-hole station as a perk, but I hardly care about that. What matters is what we do with this ship.”
“Why build it if you don’t want to fly it?” I asked.
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “It’s such a risk, can’t you see? We have no idea how these aliens will react. They might become enraged and bomb us. Or, they might welcome us with open arms. But why rock the boat if things are going well enough now?”
I thought over my response carefully. “I understand your dilemma,” I said, “but you have to know that if you don’t fly her, they’ll eventually replace you with someone who will.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s how I see it too. What would you do, Blake?”
“There are only two possible courses of action, sir,” I said. “Fly her—or blow her up.”
“Deliberate sabotage?” he chuckled nervously. “That would be treason.”
“Not if you truly believe the fate of Earth is in the balance. May I be dismissed now, sir? I can’t make this choice for you.”
“Hmmm… Yes, of course. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
That was it. I got up, and I walked out.
But I already knew which path he’d choose. A man too cautious to fly a ship he’d been charged with building would never have the guts to blow it up.
He’d either fly the phase-ship, or he’d resign his post. Yawning, I hardly cared which it would be. I headed back to my tiny “stateroom” for a nap.
=9=
My nap turned into a snore-fest. I was pretty tired, and when I finally woke up, I sensed I was being watched.
I saw a light then, a small glowing amber indicator on the far wall. Was someone looking at me through the wall?
I jumped up and opened my door. There were fleeing footsteps—feminine steps.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Come back here. Don’t make me run you down!”
Her step faltered, and she turned around. The halls were kind of gloomy down here, but I recognized her right off.
“Robin?” I asked. “They let you out of purgatory, huh? What kind of sweet deal did you negotiate?”
She walked back slowly, looking irritable and contrite at the same time.
“You won’t tell them about this, will you?” she asked. “I’m already on probation.”
I shook my head. “Nah, but I didn’t figure you for a peeper. Sure, you’re a reporter, but…”
“I wasn’t peeping, I just didn’t know which cubicle was yours, that’s all.”
I feigned astonishment. “Wait a second… are you saying you looked into everyone’s bunk? This whole row?”
“No, I didn’t say that!”
By this time, she was close. Close enough to reach out and touch. Maybe I was dreaming, but I felt the urge to do so. I resisted with difficulty and crossed my arms instead.
“You didn’t answer my first question,” I pointed out. “How’d you get out of that room upstairs and make your way down here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I signed their damned papers. All of them. They own my butt now.”
I nodded. It had been obvious, but I’d wanted her to admit it.
“Okay then, you’re our PR rep—when and if this whole project goes public. What are your duties for now?”
“Familiarization with the project—and its participants.”
“Have you got your own cubicle?”
“No, I’m stationed outside. In the buildings outside the vault.”
“Why are they letting you roam around down here alone?”
She shrugged. “I’m not really alone. There are cameras everywhere.”
I looked around the hallway. There were cameras here and there, but that didn’t mean anyone was watching us every moment. These days, there were so many cameras around that they were usually only used to review what had happened in the past. When it came to violations at any facility, they were used more to provide proof for an investigation after the fact than to provide constant surveillance.
“So, you came looking for me right off?” I asked. “I’m flattered.”
“I was told there was an argument among key management—and that you were there to witness it.”
Smiling, I invited her into my cramped quarters. She hesitated, then accepted my offer.
We sat down. There was only one steel chair and my bunk to choose from. I took the chair because my head hit the cabinets over my bunk when I sat upright on it.
“This is ridiculous,” she complained, having to lie back on my small, firm bed.
“I know. My apologies, but it’s all I have.”
“Where’s this project headed, Leo?” she asked. “I know you’re in on the details.”
I considered my options. She had some right to know, but I also understood General Vega might not like open discussions about our time schedules.
“I can’t tell you,” I said at last.
“What? We were risking our lives together last night, but now you’re going to hold out on me?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
She got up from my bunk and crawled onto my lap. It was a short trip.
“How about I tell you something first—something about this place you don’t know?” she asked.
“Like what?” I asked, enjoying the weight of her on my legs.
I knew I should push her off—but that would have been a hard thing to do for any man. Robin could be very sexy when she wanted to.
“You see this window in your wall?” she asked. “My room has one too. Freaked me out at first. I asked another woman how they could be turned off. Here’s what she showed me.”
She pressed recessed dents along the wall. Part of it vanished. We could see the passageway outside.
I shifted uncomfortably. She was still sitting in my lap, and I couldn’t help but wonder what people would think if someone walked by.
“Don’t worry,” she said, putting her hand on my knee, “when you have the glass reversed like this, they can’t see inside. It only has three settings: look in, look out, or blank. If you’re using it to look out from the inside, people outside can’t look in.”
“Okay… I have to admit, that’s something useful. But it doesn’t come close to talking about the fate of this project.”
“I’m only asking so I can handle the press later if it becomes public knowledge.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait until that happens,” I said.
Stubbornly, she began running he fingers over my collar. This girl didn’t give up easily.
“How can I persuade you to talk to me?” she asked in a sweet tone.
I didn’t answer right off, but I think my heart started pounding. We males are weak that way.
She began touching and kissing. I wasn’t completely comfortable—especially with that transparent wall about two feet away. Once in a while, someone walked by and I couldn’t help but jump a little.
I didn’t let her go all the way—that wouldn’t have been fair—we just made out for a while.
Finally, I gently scooted her butt off my lap and back onto my bunk. She looked at me in shock.
“Sorry,” I said.
She was instantly angry. “You were never going to give me anything, were you?” she demanded. “You led me on! You let me make a fool of myself!”
“Come on…” I said. “I already told you ‘no.’ You’re not a reporter anymore, remember? You’re a PR rep. They’ll tell you what you need to know to do your job.”
Robin left in a storming huff. I didn’t blame her, but her reaction made me believe that in her mind she was still planning to break this story—no matter what she’d been forced to sign.
She was playing a dangerous game, but that was her choice.
After dinner, during which no one saw fit to sit at my table, I returned to my quarters. We’d been ordered to report at 0600 the next day for a general briefing.
I stretched out on my bunk afterward and relaxed. I could still smell the lingering traces of Robin’s perfume, and I regretted my choices. I’d done the right thing—but I still regretted it.
The lights in the passageway outside dimmed to a dull glimmer at about ten pm to simulate night.
The last few days of running around had worn me down. Sleep came easily, but it didn’t last long.
In the middle of the night, a shadow fell over my bunk. I was sleeping lightly, as always, and I must have heard something.
Looking out through the one-way wall, I saw a large figure. It tapped at the base of the window, waited, then tapped some more. The person had to be trying to look inside, but they were failing. The trick Robin had shown me had worked.
Another detail, however, got me to worrying. I’ve been off-world. I’d lived, in fact, for over a year among the Rebel Kher. During that time, I’d learned to spot one of them when I encountered them.
They were like humans, most of them. They ranged in height and bulk, just as humans did. A big Kher from a low-gravity world might be seven feet tall. Another race might be the size of children.
But no matter how big they were, they always had a certain “otherness” about them. I’d seen that effect before, and I’d recognize it anywhere.
One thing I knew for certain, looking out into the passageway through that transparent region of stone—whoever it was out there trying to take a look at me, they weren’t human.
=10=
During my time aboard the ships of the Kher, I’d learned that midnight visitations were never friendly. Rivals had often come then to find us when we were weak, tired and slow to defend ourselves. In such moments, our most savage battles for supremacy had occurred.
Among the Rebel Kher, advancement in rank was attained in one of two ways: either you did something heroic, or you proved you were the best among your peers by beating them down. Often, when I’d returned after a hard-won battle, I’d been met not with cheers, but with a surprise attack. Being of high status commanded respect, but it also made you a target in the Rebel civilization.
The hulking being outside stopped fussing with the window and moved to the door. In the meantime, I’d slid out of my bed, pulled on pants and shoes, and thrown my jacket over the nightlight that never seemed to go off under my bunk.
It was pitch black when the door to my cubby glided open. The only light came from the window that looked out on the passageway outside.
A figure shambled forward, hunching a little to get into the door. It was remarkably quiet for its size—the mark of a predator.
Those eyes… they caught a ray of light from the passageway, and they gleamed. Human eyes didn’t do that. The eyes of wolves, bears and cats did.
Without a threat or a battle-cry, I attacked the intruder. My fist landed on the snout. It crunched with a meaty sound.
Claw-like arms came up, but I dodged under them, going for the belly. I landed a kick there, digging in my heel, but I could tell I wasn’t going to stop this beast that way. Its stomach was a wall of rubbery muscle.
One of those arms swept me off my feet then, tossing me against the back wall of the chamber. Bouncing, I came back into a crouch, breathing hard and making a growling sound in my throat.
The being stopped advancing, and a translated voice spoke. “You haven’t changed, Blake,” it said.
I paused in shock. “Ursahn?” I asked. “Is that really you?”
“Of course it is. How long has it been? You don’t recognize me anymore?”
“It’s dark—and I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Ah right, most primates suffer from poor eyesight.”
Ursahn touched the wall, and the room lit up. I saw her then, standing there in the doorway rubbing her snout.
She had been the captain of the carrier ship Killer, which I’d served aboard in the Rebel Fleet. She resembled a bear in size and shape, but with a lot less fur.
“Sorry about your nose,” I said.
“No need to apologize. Any creature entering the den of another deserves no less.”
I gestured toward the only chair. She looked at it dubiously then squatted there in obvious discomfort. I recalled that chairs in her quarters aboard Killer had resembled tree stumps.
“It is I who should apologize,” she said. “I wanted to make sure it was you who was here in this warren. I didn’t realize humans were subterranean creatures, by the way.”
I didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, I tried to force myself to think.
“You’re the second person who’s ambushed me to determine if I’m really Leo Blake. Why would that be?”
“It’s a common enough technique among Kher. Humans have not generally been trained the way you have. Your reaction proved to me that you are a true Rebel. You chose violence first, leaving apologies and requests for aid for later.”
“So you’re saying Godwin might be a Kher?” I asked.
“What’s a Godwin? Is that a species or an individual?”
“A man. A human-looking man. But he attacked me as a test to make sure I was really who I resembled.”
“I see. An appropriate technique—but I know of no ‘Godwins’ in my life-space.”
The translator she was using hadn’t quite matched up everything we’d said, but it was doing a pretty good job. They were like cellphones in that they worked well enough to allow you to forget your partner in a conversation was really many miles away—most of the time.
“In any case,” I said, “the fact that Godwin used this approach indicates he might not be human—he’s probably one of the Rebel Kher. The weird thing is he seemed completely human to me.”
Ursahn shrugged, bored with the issue. “Let me tell you why I’m here. It has come to our attention that you’re building a ship here on Earth. I would assume you’re in charge of this project?”
“Uh… sort of.”
“That is good, because the Imperials are coming back.”
I stared at her in shock. “Really? They didn’t get enough the first time? Have we met them and done battle yet?”
“Yes. A ship loaded with ambitious primates was sent to face them. Many other races have been training, trying to master your techniques of ship-to-ship hacking. The primates insisted they be the only ones allowed to meet the enemy.”
“Well? What happened?”
Ursahn shrugged. “Nothing happened—at least, nothing that we know of. The ship full of primates vanished. They were prepared to capture the Imperial ships and force them to destroy one another again as you did last year. But they never returned, and we don’t know how they did in battle.”
I had a sinking feeling that I did know. A hack tended to work well a few times, but after that the security on the other side got better. The Imperials could hardly have failed to improve their cyber-warfare capabilities. Basic security improvements, such as firewalls on systems routing their wireless transmissions, would completely foil the techniques I’d used against them the last time around.
“This is bad, Ursahn,” I said. “Very bad. They probably developed defenses to stop our hacking. That’s why they retreated and regrouped, to prepare for this second wave. Now, they’ve rewritten their software systems, and they’ve returned to continue the hunt.”
“That is what some of our people have suggested,” she said. “And that’s why I’m here. I’m reactivating you to serve in the Rebel Fleet. The call has gone out to every Rebel planet. You must help us defeat the Imperials again.”
She said this with such certainty—as if I could roll out of bed and defeat an empire that spanned a thousand lightyears again. The mere idea that they were depending on me was alarming. Did these people think I could move mountains? Sure, I’d managed to help them out in the past, but to do it twice…?
“How’d you get in here, anyway?” I asked her.
She pointed toward my doorway vaguely. “Is there another access to your lair?”
“No… I mean how did you get down here into this base?”
“Ah, we have a transmat device here on the premises.”
“A what?”
“A transmat is a complex system that allows a short-ranged hyper-spatial tube to be established. Really, it’s a phasing unit.”
“What’s it like?”
“Somewhat similar to stepping through a dark passageway. The traveler experiences nothing more than disorientation. You, in fact, were picked up by a limited line-of-sight unit when we collected you for testing.”
“How does it work?” I asked.
“A person steps into a hyperspace tube briefly, and is protected from radiation by a class-five shielding spray. At that point—”
I held up my hand, a universal sign to stop that even the Kher understood.
“Good enough,” I said. “Why didn’t you drop my crew off using this transmat-thing when we mustered out from the Fleet?”
“At that time, we had no permanent presence on Earth. It was deemed pointless. Recently, however, the Imperials have begun to move again. We decided to make a greater investment in your planet.”
“Naturally,” I said rubbing at my itchy, sleepy eyes. “So Fleet has a transportation system connected to this facility… That might explain a lot… I take it your ship is in orbit over Earth now?”
“That’s right.”
“What are we going to do next?”
“It’s time to collect you for duty among the stars. Hammerhead was destroyed, but I’m sure I have another heavy fighter I could allow you to use.”
Her words made me wince slightly. Fortunately, she wasn’t in tune with human body language enough to understand the meaning of it. She clearly didn’t know I’d stolen Hammerhead, not lost her. She also didn’t know Earth had built her own ship. I figured it was time to get higher-level officials involved.
Accordingly, I stood up. “Let’s go talk to the people in charge of this installation.”
She stood up slowly. “You’re not in command of this cave complex?”
“Sadly, no. In Earth’s military, I’m a relatively small player.”
“That’s absurd. You are the savior of Earth. Your underhanded trickery helped countless worlds.”
Her words were meant as a compliment, but it was hard to take them that way.
“Thanks,” I said. “Right this way, Captain Ursahn.”
Out in the passageway, I found two MPs standing around.
“Were you guys here the whole time?” I demanded.
“Yeah,” the duty-sergeant said.
“Why didn’t you stop my friend, here, when she forced her way into my quarters?”
He shrugged. “Not in our orders. When an alien shows up, we let it do what it wants—mostly.”
I stared at him. His words could only mean that they’d been ordered to protect the project rather than me. I was probably considered expendable. If Ursahn had come into my room for a midnight-snack—well, that was just too damned bad.
“Thanks guys,” I said with sarcasm that seemed lost on them. “Now, lead the way to Doctor Abrams’ quarters. This Kher wants to talk to him next.”
“Uh…” said the duty-sergeant.
“What?” I asked. “Are there special rules when it comes to him?”
“He is the program director…” the duty sergeant said. “But we were ordered to give this creature whatever it wants, so… this way.”
I followed them with grim satisfaction. At the very least, I was going to enjoy shocking Abrams out of his bunk tonight. I began suggesting to Ursahn she use the same techniques she’d used on me.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked. “Abrams is not combat-trained.”
“That’s okay,” I lied. “He told me only yesterday he wanted to get into shape. That he wanted to experience my perspective to improve his judgment concerning Kher behavior.”
“Very well.”
We moved off down the dark, echoing passages.
=11=
Attempting to escape Ursahn, Abrams came bounding out of his quarters and slammed right into me.
Ursahn had politely allowed him to pass her without catching his scrawny ass and throwing him back in. But he didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture at all. When he recognized me, he stopped running and curled his lips into a snarl.
“Did you arrange this intrusion, Blake?” he demanded.
“There you are, Doc!” I said, giving him a friendly smile. “Captain Ursahn here would like a word.”
He stared at me with deep suspicion. “Why was I assaulted?”
Many a man might have laughed, confessed, or otherwise blown it right then, but I was well-prepared for his question.
“What? Are you saying you’re surprised by Kher social customs? I thought you read my reports.”
“I read them in great detail,” he said, straightening out his boxers. “What of it?”
“Then you know they have unusual interpersonal behavior patterns. They like to test one another, and rank is often achieved through surprising a rival.”
“We’re not rivals…” he said, turning to Ursahn. “Are we, Captain?”
“No,” she said. “We are comrades, but we must help one another achieve personal growth—how else can we face the Imperial Kher?”
It was an odd answer, typical of the Kher. I went with it.
“You see?” I asked the ruffled scientist. “As clear as day, she’s accepting you as one of her own kind. A member in good-standing among the larger community of Kher leaders. This is an honor, sir. You’d best thank her.”
Abrams did as I suggested, but with notably poor grace. Ursahn wagged her large head, and we all turned toward the conference room.
Naturally Abrams balked, as he was still in his skivvies.
“You aren’t trying to insult the captain, are you Doc?” I demanded.
It was my fondest wish to see him sitting through a meeting in a tee-shirt and shorts, but he managed to weasel his way back into his quarters long enough to dress. He met us a short time later in the same conference room where I’d been privately briefed by General Vega a few hours earlier.
Ursahn began explaining to him, as she had to me, that the Imperials were on the march again. She’d gotten no further before General Vega himself showed up, his uniform unbuttoned at the bottom.
His eyes bulged as he looked at the three of us.
“I’m in command of this facility, Abrams,” he said in a booming voice. “Why wasn’t I informed a high-level meeting was in progress?”
Abrams was a smart man—but not people-smart. He tended to bristle when accused of any wrongdoing, rather than calmly explaining the situation. I tried not to grin as he began to sputter angrily.
“I’m the director of the scientific portion of this project,” he said. “Until recently, I was fully in charge. It’s not my responsibility to inform you of your duties, General Vega.”
Again, it was all I could do to hold back my grin. I faked a concerned frown and stayed quiet instead. When your rivals are savaging one another, it was best to stay out of the way. Every Rebel recruit learned that in the first week.
“And don’t forget it,” General Vega said, taking a seat and fumbling with his uniform.
His eyes were red, and there was a hint of booze on his breath. That was a hard way to wake up—especially in the middle of the night.
“Ursahn,” I said, “please continue.”
“Are there any more coming to this meeting?” she asked. “I’d rather not have to repeat myself.”
We looked at the general, and he shook his head. “You can tell the three of us, we’ll pass it on to anyone else who needs to know. Do you mind if I record you?”
“Is this not always done?” Ursahn asked in surprise.
The general shrugged. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Please continue.”
She did as he asked, and soon we were all putting aside our petty rivalries as the scope of the situation became more clear.
“This time it will be different,” she said. “The enemy isn’t using their manned fleet—they’re using an automated Hunter.”
“Automated? A robot, you mean?”
“A primitive term. Automated Hunters are more like artificial beings with warships for bodies.”
“How big are they?” Abrams asked.
“They displace approximately six hundred thousand metric tons.”
General Vega whistled. “Five times the size of an earthly supertanker. Do they have support ships?”
“Yes—but not with them. They have a supporting task force of manned ships that stay to the rear. Typically, a rip is formed in space-time, and the Hunter is sent into it. When it returns, the target system has been destroyed.”
“The target system? The whole thing?”
“Yes. Is that not clear?”
The general sat back and sucked in a deep breath. “And here we are making a big deal out of one gunship… We’re outclassed and irrelevant.”
“Untrue,” Ursahn said. “Your champion did very well on Earth’s behalf the last time the Imperials unleashed their fleets. That’s why I’m here—to collect him.”
General Vega made a brushing-off gesture in my direction. “By all means, drag him into that transmat you left here and take him away with you.”
Ursahn stared at him for a few long seconds. I knew from her pose, she was thinking speculatively. That took her kind more than a few seconds to pull off, typically.
“Hold on a minute,” she said. “What was this about a gunship?”
“Nothing,” Abrams snapped, shooting a deadly glance at me. It was very clear he wanted me to keep my mouth shut.
I didn’t say a thing, but Ursahn looked at me.
“Blake,” she said. “I’m hereby reinstating you as an active-duty member of the Rebel Fleet. This appointment supersedes any local affiliation you might have. Tell me about this gunship—that’s an order.”
I glanced at Vega and Abrams. They both glared at me, but they didn’t say anything. Did that mean Earth already had some kind of treaty with the Kher? I suspected that it did. We were a planet with a puppet government—at least, that’s what it seemed like to me.
“I see,” I said, “but I can’t honorably obey your order.”
“You accept its legitimacy?” Ursahn asked.
“Yes, but we’re on my homeworld now. I have a conflict of loyalties, and I beg you to reconsider.”
She slid her eyes around the group, then she pulled out a communications device. She spoke into it, and I only caught one word: Godwin.
“You’re summoning that agent of yours?” the general asked. “Why? Just take Blake and go back to your ship.”
“This matter must be handled correctly,” Ursahn said. “As it’s not directly fleet-related, an official government representative must handle the case.”
This had my mind whirling. The Rebels didn’t operate like Earth. They had their fleet, which was like a mish-mash of ships from a dozen loosely-allied worlds. But they also had a more permanent government to oversee them all. Apparently, she was saying that the thing I’d thought of as Godwin was just such an individual.
All of this was of great surprise to me. I’d known Godwin was a free-agent, but I had no idea he had any legitimate authority. I’d also assumed he was human, when apparently, he wasn’t.
Godwin didn’t take long to show up. That part didn’t surprise me. If he was a Kher agent, he would have access to the transmat device, the same as Ursahn.
What did surprise me was the nature of his entrance. He walked into the room, picked up a steel chair, and whacked General Vega in the head with it.
This single blow was so swift and hard I could hear the general’s skull thump twice—once as the chair smashed into the back of it, and then again as he flopped forward on the deck and sprawled there.
=12=
A rush of guards came into the conference room immediately after Godwin had bashed General Vega. They drew their pistols and pointed them at Godwin.
“Hold on!” I shouted. “Ursahn, is this Godwin?”
“Yes, of course.”
“He’s a Rebel Fleet agent, is that right? He’s Kher, not human?”
“He’s a Rebel Government agent. His authority supersedes my own.”
The guards checked Vega, who was out cold on the deck, and they called for medical aid.
“You’d better talk fast, Blake,” the duty-sergeant said. “I’m for gunning down both of these freaks right now.”
Abrams leaned back in his chair and crossed his skinny arms. A shitty smile formed on his lips. He wanted to see me squirm.
“Yes, Blake,” he said. “Talk fast.”
“We can’t kill Godwin or Ursahn,” I said. “They’re Kher representatives. They have diplomatic immunity.”
“It could be an accident,” the sergeant suggested.
“That would be a big mistake,” I said, turning to the creature I knew as Godwin. “Agent, why did you strike General Vega?”
“To assume his authority, of course,” he said. His tone suggested he thought my question was an odd one. Then he turned toward Ursahn. “The humans have built a ship, they copied one of ours. These primates are at least as tricky as any of their brethren among the stars.”
Ursahn nodded, unsurprised. “I mentioned this fact at the briefing before this mission began. Now that you’ve struck down their local official, I recognize your authority to assume command here.”
“Excellent,” the agent said. “Let’s go inspect their ship. A new levy must be determined.”
Godwin turned to lead Ursahn out, and she moved to follow him. I rose up to stop them both.
“You need to explain things to my people,” I told them, or there will be further violence.”
Godwin looked at the armed guards. He shook his head. “Your race is such a strange one. I’ve moved among you for months, and I’ve seen a consistent misconception of your status. You’re a single world without a fleet. Any sane sub-species would be compliant and respectful.”
“I know, I know,” I said, “but let me give it a try.”
I turned to Abrams, who still had the air of a man who was enjoying the misfortune of others. Without a doubt, that was exactly what he was doing.
“Doctor Abrams,” I said, “with the general down and out, you’re in charge here.”
“Not so. This is a military operation according to Washington. Let me contact Vega’s exec—”
I stepped toward him, gripping his shoulder firmly.
“Listen,” I said, “you’re witnessing a diplomatic meltdown. Take over and show them the ship. According to Rebel Law, they have the right. Remember we did steal the design. Don’t complicate this any further.”
“This is your shit-show, Blake,” he said. “Why should I help you?”
“Because if you don’t, they might destroy your entire project. Hell, they might blow up this mountain.”
Abrams blinked, and he looked alarmed. Apparently, he hadn’t considered his project or his own person to be in any jeopardy.
“Oh…” he said, waving back the guards. “Blake is right. These beings have diplomatic immunity. Step aside. I’ll give them a tour of the project facilities.”
“That’s contrary to our orders, Doc,” the duty sergeant said.
“I know that. I’ll accept full responsibility. On the other hand, if you don’t comply, the responsibility for what happens next will be entirely yours.”
The guards looked upset. They didn’t know what to do.
“Just follow us and play along,” I told the sergeant. “If Godwin whacks anyone else, I’ll take him out myself.”
That seemed to get them to step aside. The medical people arrived and went to work on General Vega. The rest of us stepped over his body carefully.
Abrams led the way down into the newly dug vaults. The edgy guards followed us. They had their pistols out, and they clearly wanted an excuse to use them.
We saw the ship down there in the gloom, in all her glory. Abrams was proud of his work, and he hit a switch that lit it up with floods. The metal hull of each module reflected like jewels filling a cave.
“When assembled,” he said, “this ship will be the first of Earth’s fleet. We’ll use it to support the Rebel cause—this vessel and all her sisters to come.”
The two Kher circled the ship, barely looking at him. They studied the subsystems. Ursahn in particular was glowering. She seemed on guard, sniffing the air and crouching periodically.
“Would you like to see the interior?” Abrams asked.
“What is this protrusion here?” Ursahn demanded. “I do not recognize this.”
“That’s a field projector, nothing else.”
She walked around the ship twice, looked inside, then returned to face Godwin and Abrams.
“This ship isn’t a copy of the one you stole from my carrier,” she said.
“We made modifications, certainly,” Abrams said. “And I must object to the suggestion we stole the original from you. It was clearly documented as—”
“Shut up,” she told him. “Blake, come to me.” Captain Ursahn shambled several paces to the side of where the others stood.
I did as she asked, worried. “What is it, Captain?”
She studied my face and sniffed at me. “This ship is dishonorable. It’s a phase-ship.”
If she could have read human emotions in facial expressions, she’d have known I was looking very guilty. Fortunately, she was still weak in that area.
“What? Really? I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true. I don’t blame you for this crime—not directly, but I must alert Rebel Command. They’ll know what to do.”
“Hold on,” I said to Ursahn. “Do you think the agent knows this is a phase-ship?”
“No,” she said, “he would have reported the violation. He’s only been working this case to make sure Earth is required to contribute the correct levy.”
I frowned uncomprehendingly. “The levy? I don’t get that. What difference does it make if we have one ship or zero?”
“All the difference in the world. Rebel Law says worlds without ships must provide a single crew to die in the Hunt. But if you have real warships, that means you must provide at least one to fight with the rest of the higher-level civilizations.”
“I see…” I said. “Is there a special rule for phase-ships?”
“Only that they are forbidden, dishonorable.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked her.
“Destroy this abomination, of course. Then you and I will return to Killer and die gloriously, you in your fighter and me at the helm of my carrier. It will be as it should have been the first time.”
“Hmm…” I said thoughtfully, not liking her plan. “It seems to me the Imperials are the dishonorable ones here. They’re sending an automated Hunter at us this time. Would the Rebels build such a thing?”
“No, not even if we could. They’re worse than phase-ships.”
“Exactly!” I said. “Here’s what I propose: let me talk to Rebel Command. Let me explain that using phase-ships might keep us all from dying.”
She stood up angrily. “Phase-ships are dishonorable! You are asking me to soil my den!”
The idiom had been weakly translated, but I gathered her meaning clearly enough.
“Listen,” I said. “All I want is to kick the decision up to the next level. That’s it. Humans helped you defeat the enemy before, remember? Trust us again.”
“That has turned into a disaster. They’ve sent a worse monstrosity at us now—and they’ll never leave us alone. The Hunter will exterminate our peoples because you embarrassed them last time.”
“Then we have nothing to lose.”
“We have our beliefs, our memories. What more can a warrior hope to have when they die the final death?”
I sighed. “Are you going to let me talk to the Admiralty or not?”
She looked like she was thinking hard. Her small eyes were almost shut, and she stepped from foot to foot for a moment. I let her do so uninterrupted.
At last, she turned back to me.
“I suspect you of trickery,” she said. “Duplicity lives in your very soul—but I will allow the Admiralty to decide.”
My face wanted to smile, but I fought the urge. Now wasn’t the time to gloat.
“All right then. Give me my orders.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to write them yourself? You seem very full of ideas today—even for a human.”
“Not at all,” I said, “I’m yours to command, Captain Ursahn.”
Grumbling, she left me with instructions, then lumbered out of the chamber. Everyone present breathed a sigh of relief.
=13=
Captain Ursahn left the base, taking Godwin with her to the transmat chamber. They vanished soon afterward. I didn’t get to witness the procedure, and I was left curious about it. They had kicked me out and slammed the doors.
I thought afterward I could tell when the transmission was made, because I heard a deep thrumming sound that seemed to penetrate the rock walls. Then the lights flickered momentarily, and the thrumming stopped.
“What kind of game are you playing at, Blake?” Dr. Abrams asked me when he came back out of the transmat chamber. “Are you a traitor? Have you signed on with a foreign power?”
“I’m trying to keep us all breathing,” I said. “That’s a serious effort.”
By this time, General Vega was back from the infirmary and walking again. He looked groggy and pissed-off. I made the mistake of asking him how he felt.
“How do I feel?” he demanded. “I’m enraged! I was beaten senseless—a criminal act. I don’t know how you withstood close contact with these savage aliens for so long, Blake. I want to lodge a formal complaint with their government. We should demand they extradite Godwin into our custody!”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t even answer such a request,” I told him, “if they could even comprehend it, sir.”
“Blake is right,” Abrams said. “The aliens don’t think in a linear fashion. They’re ruled by emotions, rather than logic.”
He was right and wrong at the same time. To my way of thinking, humans were just as easy to fire up as the Rebel Kher, but we had a different set of rules regarding what was acceptable interaction.
Normally, I’d have kept these opinions to myself, but I couldn’t today since the stakes were so high.
“General, have you ever sniffed another creature’s hindquarters?” I asked him.
He looked at me as if I’d gone insane. “No, but I’ve kicked any number of junior officers in that precise region!”
“Sir, bear with me. What I mean is that normal behavior for the Kher isn’t the same as it is for us. They’re not actually aliens, by the way, being genetically related to our species—but they are very different.”
“What’s your point, Blake?”
“Sometimes, humans see familiar behavior patterns in dogs—but dogs aren’t human and can’t be expected to match human norms. It’s the same way with the Kher.”
General Vega held a cold compress to the back of his head and muttered something about putting down animals. But he’d stopped talking about extradition.
“Let’s go over Captain Ursahn’s orders,” I suggested.
“Orders?” General Vega demanded, getting upset all over again. “She gave us orders?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” I said. “It’s because we’ve built a ship. Godwin was here to find it—apparently, they’ve been suspecting we were building one.”
“All those probes…” Abrams said. “Maybe they have more spies and drones here on Earth which we never detected.”
“Right. Anyway, Godwin is an agent—kind of like a tax agent.”
General Vega boggled at me, but he didn’t talk. His face only got redder as I went along.
“You see General, it’s like this,” I told him, “they want our ship to serve in their Fleet.”
“That’s not all,” Abrams added, “tell him the good part.”
I tossed him an angry glance. “Well… they insist that I be the one to fly her, sir. They only respect—”
“Ah-ha!” boomed the general, pointing a finger at me that was rimed with dried blood. “I see it all now. Scheming, maneuvering. Well, I won’t stand for it, Blake. I told you you’re not going on that ship, and I meant it.”
“I don’t have to be in command, sir,” I said. “I don’t even have to be a pilot. I’ll just be along for the ride.”
“No, you won’t—you’ll be behind bars in the brig!”
“General, the Kher have made a formal request. Also, they’ve made a threat to go with it.”
He glowered at me. “Keep talking, you worm.”
“They don’t like the fact that we’ve built a phase-ship. They figured that out in about ten minutes—”
“Who showed them my ship?” Vega demanded.
I glanced once at Abrams, then dropped my eyes. It was a subtle way of indicating the Doc was my accomplice. Vega followed this interaction closely.
“The Kher insisted, sir,” I explained. “They threatened to blow up the ship—this entire installation.”
Abrams became alarmed when the general turned on him next.
“You did this!” Vega said. “You’ve been scheming on your own for months. Blake’s a worm, but you’re a traitor!”
“What?” Abrams asked, producing a high-pitched, nervous laugh. “Come now General Vega, don’t be ridiculous. You should hear yourself. It’s embarrassing.”
None of Abrams’ words improved the general’s mood. The two went at it, Abram’s insisting the general was being absurd, while the general made plenty of threats.
I took that moment to slip away. There was clearly no love lost between these two, and I didn’t want to catch any of the fallout from their struggles. Shifting the blame to Abrams was a rude thing to do, and it had been almost too easy. I rationalized that these two deserved each other, and the fact their plans had gone awry wasn’t my responsibility—not entirely, anyway.
As I was bone-tired, I went back to my quarters and flopped on my bunk. It wasn’t until the morning chimes woke me up, heralding another dawn in this pit below Cheyenne Mountain, that I struggled awake again.
Robin caught up to me in the passageway on my way to breakfast. She showed me an ankle-bracelet and glared at me like I’d clamped it onto her myself.
“What’s on your foot, there?” I asked as if I didn’t know.
“They caught me trying to get into the transmat room. You government people are crazy. I’ve got a clearance, or I wouldn’t be working down here.”
I shook my head. “That isn’t how clearances usually work,” I told her. “Often, there are limitations and not much overlap. Privy to project A, but clueless about project B, that’s our motto. You’re probationary, anyway.”
“They told me all that,” she complained. “But one tiny slip-up, and they get to monitor my every movement electronically? That’s bullshit. I’m a prisoner here.”
“No, you’re not,” I said, “but if you keep sneaking around, you may well become one. These bracelets are a small addition to the Non-Human Acts. They called it ‘implicit acceptance of electronic surveillance’ but the reality is the rules have all changed.”
“That’s the worst thing about the aliens,” she said. “After we made first contact with the Rebel Kher, our rights went down the toilet. The government thinks it can do anything to innocent civilians.”
I pointed a finger at her. “You’re no longer an innocent civilian. You have to get used to that. You’re one of us, now.”
Her face squirmed, but she didn’t argue. Right then, I couldn’t recall why I’d wanted her to come along badly enough to bargain for it. Sure, she’d helped me when I needed it, but I could already tell she was going to be a huge headache.
“You’re going to have to start doing your job,” I warned her. “This ship will be exiting this hole in the ground soon.”
“What?” she asked, her complaints stopping dead.
I began to explain, and she produced an old-fashioned notepad and pen. They’d confiscated her electronic devices for obvious reasons, and they’d yet to return them. They were still telling her they were “processing” her equipment. They clearly didn’t trust her yet.
None of my recent interactions with Ursahn had been declared top secret, so I told her about it. As our PR rep, she had to at least know what was happening.
When Robin learned that I was going to be on the ship when it flew—at least if Ursahn got her way—her entire demeanor shifted.
Robin smiled in a big way. It was as if the sun had come out. She touched my arm, and her eyes were shining. Damn, this girl wasn’t subtle.
“Any chance you could take me along, Leo?” she asked. “Just for the maiden voyage?”
I could see her angle a mile off. She was planning to experience the initial flight test—very brave of her in an experimental craft—and write about it later on. Inside information like that could be worth millions to certain media organizations. People were very curious about the Kher and the ships that haunted our skies.
“Uh… I don’t know,” I told her. “The brass doesn’t even want me to go, actually. But the Kher are insisting.”
“Why?”
“They trust me I guess… well, I mean to say they believe in my capabilities.”
She laughed. “An interesting self-edit...”
We ate breakfast together, and she began to charm me all over again.
Was that her plan? It was hard to tell.
=14=
It took nearly a week to get the ship out of the mountain tunnels and assembled inside a hangar they’d built for it on the surface. There were delays and problems every day.
As the ship took shape on the mountainside, it began to look long, dark and sinister. To me, it resembled a boomer more than anything else—a nuclear-armed submarine. It wasn’t as stream-lined as a sub, however. It had protrusions, fan-like sensor arrays and one very large cannon with a stubby barrel that hung under the prow.
The weird thing about the cannon was it didn’t have an opening at the business end. That’s because it didn’t fire shells—or anything else. It wasn’t a gun in the traditional sense. It was a large-scale disruptor, which damaged distant targets by shuffling their molecules between normal space and hyperspace. At least, that’s how I understood it.
Ursahn returned to Cheyenne Station twice more, asking if we needed help. She offered to blow a wider shaft in the rock from space to speed up the process. Of course, this would lay waste to the station on the surface. Her suggestions weren’t appreciated.
By this time, word had come down from Washington that we were going to have to comply with Captain Ursahn’s wishes. She’d probably pulled some strings with the politicians. They were all afraid of the Kher. If she’d demanded to cut off all our heads and boil them in oil, the cowards in D. C. probably would have gone along with the idea.
It was on Thursday that we got our next surprise from Washington. As we hauled up the last chunks of the craft’s stern to the surface, a voice spoke behind me.
“Leo Blake… I’m not surprised to find you’re already here.”
It was a familiar voice, and I whirled around, hardly able to believe my ears.
“Dr. Chang?” I demanded.
We clasped hands. He beamed at me. He was an older, wiser man and we’d been through Hell and back together. Part of my original Hammerhead crew, I’d lost track of him over the last six months.
“Good to see you’re still breathing, Blake,” he said. “I would have thought someone might have gotten tired of your tricks by now.”
“They have, Doctor,” General Vega said, overhearing him. “They truly have.”
He stalked away, saying no more. I turned back to Chang.
“Where did you come from?” I asked him.
He jabbed over his shoulder with his thumb. A helicopter was sitting on one of the pads, blades still whirling. That was nothing unusual, as people had been coming and going all day.
But my eyes landed next on the group exiting the aircraft, and my jaw dropped. I recognized them—all of them. They were my old crewmates.
Dalton and Samson were both there, arguing on the pad. They hadn’t gotten twenty steps before they’d started up about something.
My eyes searched the others. I spotted Gwen, but I didn’t see Mia.
That thought made me smile. Mia wasn’t on Earth—she was lightyears away on her homeworld, Ral. But with everyone else showing up, I’d automatically looked for her.
“Freaking out a little, Leo?” Gwen asked, walking up to us next.
“Yeah…” I said, giving her a hug.
Gwen squeezed me back, harder than any normal girl could do. She still had her symbiotic inside her, altering her biochemistry among other things.
“Gwen,” I asked, “what are you guys all doing here?”
“No one told you?” she asked. “I’ve been trying your cell, but it just goes to voicemail.”
I shook my head. “Confiscated. This project has been beyond secret—until now, I guess.”
“How long have you been on this mountain?” she asked.
“More than a week.”
“Well then, you must know more than we do about the new ship. They just gathered us up over the last few days to deliver us here. They’ve only told us bits and pieces about what’s going on. From what I understand, the Kher insisted we be here when they accept the ship for their Fleet.”
I stared at her for a second. My mind was racing. “I wonder if the general knows about you guys…”
I didn’t have long to wait before I found out. General Vega was marching in our direction, red-faced and stern. He came to me and looked at each of us in turn.
“The original crew… I might have known. No doubt, you’ve been laughing with your friends among the Kher, using your pull to—”
“General,” I said, “I have no idea how these people got here. I’ve had no contact outside of this base in more than a week. You know that.”
“Hmm…” he said. “I’ve always liked you, Blake. You brought home the ship we’ve studied for a full year. Are you lying to me now?”
“No sir.”
“All right,” he sighed. “Well, your friends can watch the proceedings. I won’t object. My flight crew should be landing any minute now. They’ve been training for months on simulators. They’ve visited the project while it was still in the works. They’ll be very pleased to see the ship fully-constructed. This will be a quite a moment for them.”
Dr. Chang cleared his throat. “That’s not how things are going to go, General.”
Vega stared at him for a moment. Already, he was suspecting the worst.
“What do you mean?”
“We are the new crew. Your people aren’t even coming out here today. Washington canceled their flights and informed us two days ago. We were gathered in secrecy and brought here. I’m shocked they didn’t inform you, sir.”
General Vega hung his head. I felt sorry for him. I’d been pencil-fucked by plenty of bureaucrats in my day, and I wasn’t even a senior officer.
To his credit, Vega didn’t shout. He didn’t tell us we were all scheming monsters. He knew it went higher up than us—it had to come from the top.
Instead, he straightened up and sucked in a breath of cold, clean mountain air. Then he nodded.
“Okay then... if that’s how they want it. Do any of you know how to fly this vessel?”
Clearing my throat, I raised my hand.
“I’ve taken the liberty of familiarizing myself, General Vega,” I said. “She’s based on Hammerhead’s design, after all. I can fly her in a pinch.”
“The final twist of the blade,” Vega said staring right through me. “I get it, Blake. Well played... All right, carry on.”
I could tell that he wouldn’t believe anything else I had to say, so I didn’t bother. There wasn’t any convincing him that I was innocent. The rest of my crew he believed—but not me. Sometimes, it’s bad to have a rep for “fixing” things.
“That was smooth,” Dalton said. He’d walked up as the general made his exit. “I can see you’re still at it, Blake.”
He made a crude gesture suggesting I was taking advantage of the general.
I frowned at him. Dalton was a British man with a low-brow sense of humor. He was very effective as a crewman and a combatant—but he was a true pain-in-the-ass to have around.
“It wasn’t that way, Dalton. I’m as in the dark as everyone else.”
“Oh, right, right,” he said. “Say no more, mate.”
We clasped hands and each of us forced a smile. We’d probably injured each other as many times as we’d paid one another a compliment. Still, there was a mutual respect between us after serving together.
Samson stepped up next and shook my hand vigorously. He also slammed his huge hand onto my back until I almost coughed.
He was just as dangerous in a fight as Dalton, but bigger and slower. What he lacked in sophistication, he made up for in enthusiasm. When we’d first met, he’d been convinced I had to die—fortunately, we’d come to be friends on the Kher ships. Somehow, being among the very few humans aboard a starship full of vicious creatures had a way of forcing people to get along.
“Great to see you, Leo,” he said. “Really great. Are we flying this phase-ship?”
He indicated the long dark ship that loomed behind me. I glanced at it.
“Is it that obvious what it is?”
Dalton snorted. “What? Is it supposed to be a secret? If so, I can assure you it’s a dismal cock-up. Anyone who’s seen a phase-ship up close would know it in an instant.”
I nodded, staring at the ship. She was sleek—and I hoped, deadly.
But what were the Kher going to think of her? Phase-ships were abominations dreamt up by the Imperials. War crimes made of metal and polymers.
I was going to have my work cut out for me convincing the Kher Admiralty this was a good idea.
=15=
As a naval aviator, it’s always been my belief that the line between “ship” and “aircraft” was bridged by spacecraft.
After all, who could tell me if a large space-going vessel was more like a surface vessel or an airplane? Which command model should be followed?
There were arguments for both points of view, and believe me, those arguments had recently been made by the existing U. S. services in a ferocious manner. Both the Air Force and the Navy insisted they should get a slice of the budget pie.
In the past, the Air Force had won this argument in the United States. After all, flying off the surface of the Earth inherently looked more like a job for them. NASA astronauts were often Air Force people—but not always.
This new vessel, however, due mostly to its size and the nature of longer missions in space, had “Navy” stamped all over it.
The ship had a bridge, after all. Not a cockpit. Any large spaceship looked very much like a submarine inside. The ship had to be self-contained, and air-tight. It had to suffer extremes of pressure and temperature. Usually, aircraft were too delicate for that sort of abuse.
What’s more, although the ship would have to navigate in three dimensions, she wasn’t built to go into and out of atmospheres. Once she was launched, she would spend eternity in space, moving from orbit to orbit—at least until she was destroyed. That too suggested associations with sea-going ships.
You would think this sort of argument would be settled in a logical fashion—but then you probably haven’t been involved in inter-departmental politics.
Budgets were the key. If these new ships were declared part of the Air Force, big money would flow there. If they were Naval ships, the sky was the limit. The loser would see a great drop in income as the space forces became the dominant future in the defense of Earth.
There were international interests too, lots of them. By this time, other nations knew we were up to something. They were demanding to get in on the deal.
As a result, I found myself at a meeting involving General Vega, Commander Jones, and a few other high-ranking brass. None of them seemed to like each other much.
Doctor Abrams was there as well, looking annoyed. For once, I sympathized with his plight.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Jones said to the generals. “The Navy is taking over. This ship is clearly a ‘ship’ not a plane.”
“No-go,” General Vega responded, shaking his head and chuckling. “We’re not signing off. You can have Blake here, and his crew of misfit amateurs, but you’re not taking the future with you. We all know current space forces are under the command of the Air Force. Even our ICBM defenses are Air Force!”
The fight raged on, until Abrams and I couldn’t take it anymore.
“How about a new organization?” I asked. “Space Command?”
“We already have that,” General Vega complained, brushing me off with a gesture. “Space Command handles our nuclear deterrent.”
“Not all of it,” interrupted Jones. “Our Ohio-class subs have birds of their own.”
Abrams leaned forward. “You can’t split up the space forces in the future. There must be a single command structure. I suggest Space Command becomes independent.”
This didn’t make either the Air Force or the Navy guys happy.
“What about you UN types?” demanded General Vega. He leaned forward like he wanted to grab Abrams by his skinny neck—and he probably did. “Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain this time? Even with financial donations?”
“I’m not in control of every foreign government.”
General Vega made a rude sound with his lips and sat back in his chair. “That’s what I thought. Free-loaders, the lot of you, since 1945.”
“Gentlemen,” Jones jumped in. “Let’s get back to the point. Abrams, are you suggesting Washington wants a fifth major military command structure? The Joint Chiefs will love that.”
“It’s been done before. The Marines were once part of the Navy. The Air Force was originally a branch of the Army.”
“Why don’t they just tell us that’s what we should recommend, then?” Vega asked. “That would save everyone a lot of breath.”
Abrams shrugged. “The suggestion must come from an independent body.”
“What kind of bullshit…?” General Vega asked, then he turned on me. “You’re in on this, aren’t you? Who told you to make this play? You came in with Abrams—is he pulling your strings now?”
“Nope,” I said, “no one pulls my strings. Not even if they want to.”
He nodded slowly. “I guess I can believe that.”
The conversation continued in this fashion until the various project leaders gave up. No one liked it, but in the end, the idea of a new service won out. The politicians had let us know what we were supposed to say, and we’d finally said it.
We were all certain they’d chosen this path long ago, but they needed cover so anyone who was pissed off about it couldn’t pin the blame on them. We went along with the grand plan, and Space Command was reborn as an independent branch of the armed services.
I imagined that departments such as the Coast Guard, Secret Service, Homeland Security and a dozen others had all been born in just such a messy fashion behind the scenes of government.
It wasn’t long after this meeting that everything changed and sped up. I became an officer in Space Command. They made me a lieutenant commander on the spot, and gave me a pay raise. Before I could even smile at my new patches, the Kher showed up and began making fresh demands. They wanted our ship to launch now.
As a result, when dawn broke over the mountains the next morning, I found myself standing at attention outside on the rocky landscape of Cheyenne Mountain.
The wind cut my face like an icy knife as we walked to the hangar. My old crew followed behind me: Dalton, Gwen, Samson and Dr. David Chang. We marched toward the spacecraft in the hangar, which was now welded together and looking like a proper warship.
“Have you got any idea how to fly this thing, Blake?” Dalton asked over my shoulder.
“I’m making you the pilot,” I told him, “so I don’t have to worry about it.”
“Shit,” Samson complained, “we’re all as good as dead.”
It was just like old times, but I felt the stakes were higher today. If we screwed up, it wouldn’t just doom a few Earthlings trying to stay alive. We were truly representing our homeworld this time, and whatever we did out in space would reflect upon her.
That felt like a heavy responsibility, but I kept a frozen smile on my face.
Smiling came easier as we got into the hangar and approached the ship. Damn, I thought, phase-ships looked mean.
I couldn’t wait to get her out into space—no matter how that was to be accomplished.
=16=
One can easily imagine my raw shock when I was met at the hatchway by a pack of unsmiling people in blue jumpsuits. They were all officers, all Air Force pukes. Or, as Navy people liked to call them, “chair force” personnel.
“Who are you?” Dalton asked the senior officer, a man named Miller.
Colonel Miller faced off with us at the hatch. He had a twist to his lips I didn’t like.
“I’m your commanding officer, Dalton,” Colonel Miller said. “That’s who.”
Miller looked around at the rest of us. There were five of them, and five of us, and apparently Miller didn’t like what he saw.
He turned to a woman with hair about a half-inch long and frowned. She was an Air Force major named Henderson, and she didn’t look any happier than Miller did.
“Are they serious?” Miller asked her as if we weren’t there. “These people look like civvies.”
“They’re serious, Colonel,” Major Henderson said. “We’re in Space Command now. All sorts of riff-raff are joining up for a piece of the pie.”
“Is that pie for sale, Miss?” Dalton asked brightly.
Major Henderson turned back to face Dalton with her eyes growing wider by the second.
She had the bug, I could tell. She’d joined an intergalactic club of beings who wanted to kill Dalton. I couldn’t blame her for that. I could have killed him at that moment myself—hell, I’d tried to on several occasions.
“Sirs,” I said quickly, “let’s get into the ship, so we can sort this all out. We all represent Earth now.”
Everyone looked at Miller. He nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll show you the way to the flight deck. Try not to touch anything.”
We followed him through the ship to the bridge. There, we found the place looked quite familiar.
“This looks like my old station,” Dr. Chang said, walking to the ops boards and running his hands over the touchscreens. They were running, and although they didn’t project their imagery into three dimensional space the way they had on Hammerhead, they looked like a reasonable imitation.
“If you don’t mind,” Major Henderson said. She quickly moved to sit between Chang and the touch-boards.
He backed off in disappointment. Colonel Miller took his spot in the pilot’s chair, which didn’t surprise me. They’d made him both commander and pilot—an arrangement the Kher had recommended against. We’d operated that way on Hammerhead, but this time around, I’d planned to have Dalton fly while I kept my eyes on the tactical situation overall.
Nothing was happening the way I’d planned, however.
“Blake,” Dalton hissed, coming up close at my side. “You’ve got to do something. Assert yourself. These people aren’t even supposed to be on this ship.”
I shrugged helplessly. It was obvious that General Vega had caved on some things, such as allowing Space Command to be born, and letting us come aboard Hammerhead. But he’d also managed to sneak his own people aboard, too. They were taking over, and without any authority to change that, I felt helpless.
“We have to ride it out,” I told Dalton.
He squinted at me for a second, then gave me a nasty grin. “Nice one! I’m mad for it, mate.”
Then he winked at me as he moved away. I was alarmed. Dalton was barely civilized. His statement could have meant just about anything.
There wasn’t any time to discuss it, though, as the ship lurched into motion under our feet at that moment. The deck began to slide, then slowly tilt.
“Oh…” Colonel Miller said as he turned to eye us. It was as if he’d forgotten we were there at all. “You people had better strap into those jump-seats. We’re going vertical for take-off.”
There was so little I knew about flying this ship that I couldn’t argue. We scrambled to fold down and sit upon a humiliating row of orange plastic jump-seats that folded down from the back wall. Feeling like kids on a field-trip, we watched as the flight crew went through checklists, and the ship was trundled out of the hangar.
The view outside played on the walls. Just like the original Hammerhead, they’d built much of the hull to appear transparent. Really, the illusion involved carefully placed cameras outside the hull and screens inside. The system appeared to allow us to see through solid metal as if it was made of glass.
There were delays, of course, as the big ship rolled out on what resembled train tracks to a launch-pad. The ship had been put together in haste, and not everything was working at one hundred percent efficiency.
The drives worked, however. There was no doubt about that. The ship was stood up on its end, and at last we were given the green light to launch.
No one else was aboard the ship, other than our two flight crews. The rest of the personnel were supposed to meet us in orbit.
To my mind, that sounded like a wise precaution. Why wipe out all our best technical people in one flash if this thing turned out to be a bomb? Maybe they could rebuild and learn from their mistakes if the worst did occur.
The countdown was nerve-wracking. When the engines rumbled at last, we were propelled upward with great force.
That part was new. Aboard Hammerhead, we’d been protected from G-forces created by acceleration. This ship didn’t have a working anti-grav system, however, and we were pressed back into our seats so hard we couldn’t breathe.
“They’re gonna kill us,” Gwen said, her hand seeking mine.
“No they won’t,” I said. “They’ve been training for months.”
“They’ve never flown anything like this monster. They’ll kill us.”
“She’s probably right,” Dalton lamented.
Samson didn’t say anything. He had his eyes squeezed shut.
Dr. Chang was looking around curiously at the instrumentation, ignoring all the rest.
The rumble grew to a shaking roar, then a singing sound as we got higher. It was enough to set your teeth on edge. Our team had butts and jaws clenched, and I noticed the other flight crew was doing the same. The noises the ship was making were painful to hear. I hoped that once we left the atmosphere, that irritation would subside.
Fortunately, it did. We reached free-fall after about ten minutes, and everyone unbuckled.
At last, we were in our element. In the Rebel Fleet service, you often were floating. That wasn’t usually due to orbiting a planet, but rather to a gravity-dampening system that kept the crew from being crushed by high-velocity maneuvers.
“Hey!” Colonel Miller called out, seeing us fly around the back of the bridge. “Be careful, there are a lot of precarious obstacles in here.”
We didn’t even answer. We moved like monkeys in a zoo enclosure, gliding over the ceiling, deck and even the walls efficiently.
“Oh…” he said. “I guess you guys have logged some time in free-fall.”
“Over a year, last time I checked,” I said.
“Hmm… You might be useful after all. I can use an experienced crew in the aft engineering shop. There aren’t a lot of astronauts with technical repair skills that have logged serious hours in null-G.”
I was sure he was trying to be pleasant, but his words were grating on my team. We’d been out there, after all. We’d been at war in ships like this one.
“Tell me, Colonel,” I asked. “How many battles have you fought in space?”
He blinked at me, then frowned. “I know what you’re getting at, Blake. But you should know we’re all combat veterans from operation Sand Devil in Africa.”
Dalton chuckled. So did Samson.
“What’s funny about that?” Major Henderson demanded.
“Major, Samson and I killed men for breakfast during Sand Devil. Blake did his share of bombing them in that carrier bird of his, too.”
I didn’t say anything. Everyone looked uncertain of where that left us. The flight crew generally outranked us, and they had certainly been trained to run this ship. But how much did that matter? My people had more experience in space-going warships than anyone else on Earth, period.
Under different circumstances, I thought we might all work out a good relationship. We had the experience, they had some good skills. I thought it might pull together in time.
But we didn’t have as much time as I thought we did.
=17=
As part of our maiden voyage, the phase-ship was supposed to rendezvous with Ursahn’s carrier above Earth. Navigating to this point was relatively easy with Earth satellites and radar stations to guide us.
We docked smoothly, and the flight crew was all smug about it. I could tell they figured they’d mastered the universe.
“Don’t tell them,” Dalton whispered to me as we all moved to the main hatch to greet Ursahn’s delegation.
“Don’t tell them what?” I asked.
He gave me an odd look. “Have you forgotten so quickly? This is going to be a good time for all, Chief!”
I stared after him as he nonchalantly stepped to the hatch and operated it without orders.
Colonel Miller came down from the bridge, laughing and congratulating his team on a successful flight. He frowned when he saw Dalton spinning a wheel and popping open the main hatch.
“Dalton?” he called. “No one gave you any orders regarding—”
That was as far as he got before the hatch swung open. It was new, but it squealed anyway. That was probably due to varied temperatures and pressures exerted upon the ship, which was new to space travel.
There, directly on the other side, stood Ursahn and Shaw.
Seeing Shaw brought back memories. He was a big, mean bastard. Taller than most men, and possessed of great strength, he looked more human than he was. He’d been in charge of recruiting Earthmen into the service of the Kher, and he could be brutal.
“Captain Ursahn, Commander Shaw,” I said, nodding to them.
“We meet again, Blake,” Shaw said. “I never thought we would.”
“Great to see you too, sir.”
“Permission to come aboard this evil ship of yours?” Shaw asked. “We have to perform an inspection.”
“Of course, come on—”
At this point, Colonel Miller lost it. “Yes, by all means,” he boomed loudly. “Come aboard my ship, Commander Shaw.”
Shaw had one foot up, but it froze there above the rim of the hatch.
“What is this creature, and why is it addressing me?” he asked me.
“Uh… that’s Colonel Miller, sir. He’s been placed in command of this ship by Earth’s Space Command.”
“Space Command?” Shaw asked dubiously.
“Yes. That’s right, sir.”
Miller pressed forward and tried to shake Shaw’s hand. That wasn’t a natural thing for the Kher, but fortunately Shaw didn’t take it as an attack. He’d served with me long enough to know that humans had strange customs.
He allowed his hand to be clasped briefly, but then yanked it away. Colonel Miller almost pitched forward on his face, but managed to recover and smile in confusion.
“Sorry, Commander,” Miller said. “This way to see the decks?”
Shaw glanced at me, and I nodded, waving him forward. Ursahn watched from the hatchway. She didn’t come aboard, or say much of anything.
Miller introduced his flight crew, but Shaw didn’t even look at them. He was only interested in the phase-ship. He peppered Miller with technical questions about it, and accepted the answers without comment.
“I understand the Kher don’t have much experience with this kind of vessel, Shaw,” Miller said. “But we can—”
Shaw turned on him angrily. He’d barely looked at the man until now.
“That’s a foulness,” Shaw hissed menacingly. “Excrement pours from your mouth.”
I cleared my throat and nudged forward. “Let me explain, sirs,” I said. “It’s a simple translation error. Colonel, please understand that Commander Shaw has had plenty of battle experience fighting against ships very much like this one. Commander Shaw, I assure you that Colonel Miller meant only that you’d never been inside a ship like this.”
Shaw launched into a fit of alien agitation. His twice-jointed elbows cranked in until his fists were against his chest. Explosively, he threw his hands out to the sides. Pacing, he repeated the odd gesture—like a pro-wrestler posturing before his signature move.
“A misunderstanding, yes…” Miller said hastily. He was clearly unnerved by the big Kehr.
Shaw made a rumbling sound that reminded everyone of a beastly growl, but then he turned away and continued the tour.
“What do you call this vessel?” he asked us several minutes later.
“She’s been designated the U-1,” Colonel Miller said.
Shaw froze and turned to face him again. “The what? That’s no name. That’s nonsense.”
The Kher always named their ships after some kind of creature, either specifically or figuratively. For example, my old ship had been Hammerhead and Ursahn’s carrier was dubbed Killer.
“We could call her Hammerhead,” Dalton said. “In honor of our lost ship.”
“Lost?” Shaw huffed. “Stolen and torn apart, more like.”
“Nevertheless, is Hammerhead acceptable?” I asked.
“Hmm… I suppose.”
At this point, Colonel Miller felt he had to speak up again. “I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen. This is an Earth ship, and the ship has been designated U-1. If you have an objection, you can bring it up with the brass Earth-side.”
Shaw turned toward him slowly, almost disbelievingly. “Blake? What are you going to do about this—individual?”
“What the colonel means to say, sir, is that Hammerhead would be fine—as a nickname.”
“A what?”
“An affectionate designation, rather than an official one. You see, vessels on Earth often have both a number and a name. The crew usually prefers something with more life in it than U-1, for example.”
Shaw glowered at me. “Seems like pointless ape-scat. Complexity for the sheer sake of itself. But I will accept it at your insistence, Blake.”
Shaw moved on. Colonel Miller, visibly baffled, followed him. Every now and then, he rolled his eyes or shook his head behind Shaw’s back. That was a bad idea, but Shaw never caught him showing disrespect.
At last, the inspection was finished. Shaw stood in the hatchway, looking around at the ship’s walls.
“Inferior build quality. The ship leaks radiation and gas constantly—we detected you miles out. Before I can accept this vessel into the fleet, I must insist that you demonstrate the phasing ability.”
I looked at Colonel Miller, who brightened. This was a topic where he was my master. I’d never been taught how to fully operate the phasing system.
“Do you want to be on board, or on your own ship when we engage phasing, Commander?” Miller asked.
“On board, I suppose. I wasn’t sure you would desire it—but it would be better if I could see the effect from inside the field. Ursahn’s team will monitor the effects on the other side.”
“Excellent,” Miller said. “If you would step this way…”
“Why?”
“Well… not every inch of the ship is shielded. The radiation will be significant.”
“Lead the way.”
We parked ourselves on the flight deck and switched on the phasing effect. For a moment, we flickered, half in hyperspace and half in normal space. But then we stabilized and were firmly planted in a tiny region of another type of existence.
The physics were beyond me, but the effects were plain enough to see. The ship simply ceased to exist from the point of view of any observer in normal space.
Unless you were very close, you couldn’t detect a phase-ship. They were effectively invisible. Only trace exhaust particles, projection of flight paths and sheer proximity could be used to find them.
We were more than invisible, for a few minutes, we’d ceased to exist entirely on the normal, material plane.
=18=
In a way, the technology of phase-ships was less impressive than that of a true FTL drive system. In order to jump from one region of space to another instantly, starships had to get themselves fully into hyperspace, then propel themselves through that strange media and exit somewhere else.
That was infinitely harder than what the phase-ships did. Hammerhead had the capacity to put herself into a transitional state between the two forms of existence and operate in both simultaneously. There was no navigation to a distant location required. No beacon stars were used. We simply switched on a field that put the ship into the transitional state, then snuck around until we decided to come out of it and strike.
After the test, Shaw seemed both impressed and disquieted.
“So, it’s come to this…” he said. “It’s taken centuries, but you monkeys have finally brought to us the dishonor we’ve put off for so long.”
“Is Hammerhead going to be admitted into the Fleet?” I asked.
“Yes. I can find no objection. I would like to—but I don’t lie and skulk about the way your people do.”
“For the record, Shaw,” I said, “I didn’t build this thing. I serve Earth, but I don’t rule her.”
He looked at me. “I understand, and I pity you.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Colonel Miller burst out. “Why shouldn’t we use phase-ships? The enemy does it. You have to match enemy tactics in order to win any conflict.”
“You have no honor,” Shaw said, jabbing a finger at Miller. “All of you humans are hereby ordered to meet aboard Killer at the start of the next shift. Don’t be late—we’ll sort out all the details then.”
Then Shaw left, and the hatch shut behind him.
Colonel Miller turned on me, baffled. “How long until the shift he’s talking about begins?”
“About two hours, sir.”
“What was that all about?” he demanded. “Why was he insulting me?”
I sighed, groping for words.
“They don’t think the way we do, sir,” I said. “They really don’t. Think about our recent history on Earth. Did the Japanese in World War II fight the same way the Americans did?”
“No, of course not.”
“Right. They’d rather die than be captured. Their pilots had no parachutes. When they were captured, they committed suicide if at all possible.”
“Hmm…” Colonel Miller said, “I see your point. I have a new job for you aboard my ship, Blake. I need you to serve as my liaison. I’ve read about the Kher—a lot of it from your personal reports. But that’s different than having a true guide at your side. What do you say?”
I stared at him for a moment. He wasn’t really a bad guy—just misinformed.
“I’ll tell you what, sir,” I said. “If you’re still in command of this ship in a week, I’ll serve in any capacity you want.”
“Is that some kind of odd threat?”
“Not at all, sir. That’s a promise.”
He didn’t know quite what to make of that, but I slipped away before he could demand any more answers.
The next shift came too soon. We all assembled in our full uniforms at the docking hatch. No one came to collect us, so we waited.
“Why don’t they send someone to escort us up to the bridge?”
Samson and Dalton exchanged glances. Those two were thinking bad thoughts, I could tell.
“That’s not how the Kher do things,” I said. “They’ve already told us what to do. We’re expected to figure it out.”
“By all means then, lead on, Blake.”
We opened the hatch and all ten of us—Miller, Henderson, three more Air Force types, and my old crew marched together into the docking tube.
It was pressurized, and we could walk upright. Miller and his people marveled at the Kher technology. They could tell the ship wasn’t rotating, and therefore the pull we felt keeping our feet on the deck had to be artificially generated.
When we reached the open hangar area, everyone present stopped and stared. Most of the crews were absent. I wasn’t sure if that was due to the time of day, or if Killer had yet to pick up her full complement of conscripts. I suspected the latter.
The stares ranged from curious to hostile. I waved at a few others I recognized, but they didn’t wave back. I didn’t see any true friends, like the cat-folk of Ral. Even the Terrapinians were missing.
We walked to the lifts and were carried swiftly up to the command deck. There, the story was different.
Ursahn was present, with her personal squad of goons. It had always seemed like she used her own people primarily as guardsmen.
Whatever the case, the sight of a dozen looming hairy figures—beings that were clearly not human and not friendly—freaked out Miller and his crew.
“Ah… what seems to be the agenda for this meeting, allies?” Miller asked.
Shaw and Ursahn exchanged glances. Ursahn decided to speak.
“This is an unusual situation,” she said. “I must apologize—”
“No need, no need,” Miller said, interrupting.
She looked startled. “Then you accept the necessity of this action? Excellent! Normally, when a spacefaring race is first met, they’re dealt with greater respect than those from primitive worlds. But in this case, we can’t see how that would work out.”
Miller blinked in confusion. “I—I don’t understand.”
“There it is,” Shaw announced suddenly. “Confusion among their ranks! They don’t even know who’s in command of their own ship. When I first boarded her, it had function, but no spirit. They didn’t even have a proper name for the vessel until Blake gave it one!”
“Such a strange people,” Ursahn said, shaking her head. “Regardless, we have time-tested methods for solving these problems. Here, each of you take one of these, and grasp it firmly.”
She handed each of us a metal tube that resembled an aluminum baseball bat, and then she stepped back quickly.
“Things are done differently when we have a conflict between officers,” she said. “The combat will be resolved from the lower ranks to the commanders—but the winning team will advance to supremacy as a group.”
“What are you talking about?” Miller demanded. “Is this one of your mad trial-by-combat events? We don’t need any such insanity! Earth’s forces are organized, disciplined. Everyone here knows I’m in command of U-1.”
Oblivious of Miller, Ursahn looked at us one at a time. “Which two are to go first?” she demanded.
No one moved, so she made her own choices. She pointed to the two women. Gwen and Major Henderson stepped forward.
“Who is in command of your vessel?” Ursahn demanded.
“Colonel Miller is,” Henderson answered firmly. She raised her chin and looked tall and proud.
Ursahn looked at Gwen, but before she could ask the question again, Gwen answered it.
“Leo Blake commands Hammerhead!” she shouted, and she slammed her tube into the back of the major’s head.
After that—it was on.
Hostility surged through my body. I knew in an instant what had happened. The Kher had switched on our syms.
My team had all been infected with artificial symbiotic organisms long ago. They served several purposes, one of which was to set us apart from the rest of humanity.
Early on, when the Kher had first come to Earth, the syms had gotten us to fight among ourselves. Those who were infected had sought one another out and attempted to murder each other. In some cases, we’d been successful. In others, we’d failed and become tight friends.
The raging, blood-lusting aspect had gripped us until we left Earth, where it was dormant most of the time. But today, I felt it. My sym was goading me, urging savage action.
The situation always seemed like madness to any military man of Earth. But the Rebel Kher weren’t like us—or like the Imperial Kher they loathed. They believed in strict individualism. Their code of valor and the honor of a single warrior was everything to them. Differing from Earth’s military history, they hadn’t really progressed beyond what the Romans might have called a “barbaric” culture.
For all that, they were more organized than most barbarians. Like the Golden Horde of Mongolia, they had consumed lesser nations and whipped them into a frenzy to attack their enemies, the Imperials.
To the Rebel Kher, humans were just one more tribe of villagers on the Steppes. We were fodder for the enemy cannons, one more subspecies to be driven into a blood-rage and sent toward the front lines.
Right now, their tactics were working on my people. Dalton and Samson needed no urging to violence, being vicious bastards from the day I’d first met them—but Gwen and Dr. Chang normally required some stoking up to fight. Gwen had clearly already given in to her sym today.
Clubbed down by Gwen, Major Henderson quickly fell. Perhaps she’d been visualizing some kind of orderly affair. If so, she had been disappointed and enlightened all at once.
“Who’s next—?” Ursahn began.
“Are you crazy?” one of Miller’s men demanded, grabbing Gwen’s arms from behind to pin them down.
That was a mistake. Gwen was a thin-armed girl, but she wasn’t the weakling she seemed to be. She had a sym in her, and that gave her both ferocity and a level of natural physical ability that belied her appearance.
Stomping with her foot on his and smashing backward with her head, she bloodied the larger man’s nose and set him to howling, but he held onto her arms.
Dr. Chang stepped forward and whacked him methodically, laying him out on the deck. He didn’t stop there, but proceeded to strike him repeatedly after he was clearly unconscious.
“Well executed,” Captain Ursahn said. “The taking of initiative has been noted. Next?”
Miller finally took action. He’d been too stunned at first—at least that was my assumption. Matters had taken such a shocking turn he’d required a few seconds to react.
He smashed down Dr. Chang first, making a “thwock” sound as he brought his weapon down on his skull. Then he turned on Gwen.
Samson and Dalton made their moves then, each sparring with one of Miller’s men.
I rushed to Gwen’s defense but arrived a moment too late. Miller hit her shoulder, breaking bones. Her right side hung oddly, the collarbone clearly snapped.
Undeterred, Gwen snarled and tried to lift her club with her other hand. Blood ran from her mouth, and her teeth were each ringed in bright red. Her eyes contained madness—a madness I’d seen before and experienced myself.
Miller backed away from her, shaking his head. I thumped him in the back of the leg, then tried to put him out as he fell.
But the colonel had been chosen purposefully. He caught me with a flying hand and somehow, I found myself lying on my back on the deck. I knew right away he was a trained fighter. The Pentagon had possessed the presence of mind to send a personal-combat specialist.
Dalton and Samson weren’t having an easy time of it, either. These guys fought like demons—or Special Forces, at the very least.
Miller and I got to our feet and circled, breathing hard.
“Why aren’t you as crazy as the rest?” Miller demanded.
“Never has affected me quite the same way, but I’m feeling it, believe me.”
“Yeah? Feel this!”
He threw his club at me and rushed in behind it. I took the club in the ear—damn, that hurt—then we were trading a flurry of blows.
He grabbed the fingers of my right hand, his grip powerful and precise.
He moved to snap down my fingers—and he should have been able to do it. But I wasn’t a run-of-the-mill ex-fighter-jock. My sym affected my body more than it did my mind.
Through sheer strength, I pushed his fingers back. Twisting them viciously, I caused them to make a crackling sound, and he howled.
He fell to his knees, dumbfounded. He looked up at me, shaking his head.
“Blake, I outrank you. I’m ordering you to stand down!”
I shook my head.
“No sir,” I said. “On Earth, you’d have the right. But up here, we’re part of something much bigger than our home planet’s military. We’re part of the Rebel Fleet. The sooner you learn their rules, the better it will go for all of us.”
Then I clocked him with a solid blow from my club, and the battle was over.
=19=
We stood breathing hard over our fallen foes. It seemed strange that on a ship full of non-humans, six out of ten of us were stretched flat on the deck. Gwen wasn’t much better. Her broken collarbone was visible, and her skin was purple already.
We calmed down and began helping one another. Dr. Chang recovered first, as he had a sym in his blood to effect internal repairs. We opened our metal tubes and applied the salves and cool liquids there to ourselves and Miller’s team. The healing process was greatly accelerated by Kher technology.
“That was conclusive,” Shaw said. “Blake’s team clearly won. They command the new phase-ship.”
Ursahn studied him, not us. She spoke at last after appearing to think things over for a full minute.
“Commander,” she said to Shaw, “the new humans had slow reactions. There was no fury in their eyes. I can only conclude they didn’t possess syms. Why not?”
“Well…” Shaw said slowly, “they weren’t part of any trial down on Earth.”
“Then they should have been given syms upon arriving aboard my ship. The contest wasn’t fair. Also, they’re likely to die of their injuries.”
“I’ll see to it immediately. They will all be infected.”
“Good… but too late. I don’t understand why this important step was skipped.”
“Perhaps I forgot,” Shaw said, without looking at her.
Ursahn and Shaw were both large predator-types. They weren’t good at lying. They could plan attacks, and they were powerful combatants, but they lacked a certain knack for deception that my own branch of the Kher tree was famous for. Primates were universally shunned by other Kher for exactly this reason.
“I think you didn’t forget,” Ursahn said at last. “I think you wanted Blake to win.”
Shaw stood up angrily and flexed his oddly jointed arms. “If you demand that the trial be repeated, it will be done next shift!” I could tell he was feeling insulted. Most Kher were pretty touchy even on good days.
From the deck, Dr. Chang moaned at the idea of another beating in the morning.
“No,” Ursahn said at last. “The results stand—but they may be reversed at any time by an upset in their group.”
“Of course…” Shaw said, calming down.
Ursahn looked at him still, then added: “Make sure you don’t take too many lessons from the humans, Commander. They are naturally dishonorable creatures.”
“We’re winners,” Dalton dared to say. “Winners make their own rules. Isn’t that what your code says, Captain?”
Ursahn looked at him in irritation. “Winning is critical, but a fair fight is always the best way to victory.”
My crew clearly disagreed, but I signaled them to shut up, and they complied for once.
A short while later we were sent back to our ship with some supplies. These included what the Rebels might call “proper uniforms” and sidearms. We also had a large amount of reconstructive liquids for healing injuries.
The last item they gave us, though, was the most precious.
“An anti-grav unit?” demanded Dalton, whistling in appreciation. “That was worth the beat-down.”
Miller showed up then, red-faced and sore. He had a crusty patch of hair missing where my club had taken off part of his scalp.
“That was insane,” he said, looking at us with his eyes alight. “You shocked me—I have to admit it, Blake. I never expected your sorry-looking crew to fight like tigers.”
“We lived this way for a full year on their ships,” I told him. “That’s just how things are up here in space, Chief.”
He stiffened. “What did you call me?”
“I called you by your rank,” I said. “It’s on your shoulder—see that single gold button? That’s your new insignia. If you work hard, in time you’ll get a line of metal. That will mean you’ve achieved the rank of ensign.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.
“In the Rebel Fleet, geometric shapes indicate rank. You see how you have essentially a gold button? The more sides a given shape has, the higher the rank. Gold is senior, silver junior...”
“So… what am I?” Miller demanded.
“A button is a single point—that’s the lowest rank possible. But it’s a gold version, which makes you a step above the rest of your people.”
Miller stared at me in disbelief for a moment, then pointed to my insignia. “If I’m so low-ranked, what’s your emblem indicating?”
“Uh…” I said, glancing down. I hadn’t bothered to check it earlier.
The last time I’d served under Ursahn, I’d finished up as a Lieutenant. That had been indicated by a triangle. This time I was wearing a silver diamond.
“I’m a commander,” I said in surprise. “Junior grade. Good enough to be awarded the captaincy of a phase-ship, I guess.”
Miller was red-faced by now. “I’m an Air Force colonel, Blake. I’m not going to stand for a demotion. I spent twenty-five years—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I told him quickly. “You’re no longer in the U. S. Air Force, the Navy or even Space Command. You’re in the Rebel Fleet now, which is like joining the French Foreign Legion. Your past has been forgotten.”
“That’s wrong, and you know it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t make the rules, and I didn’t hand out these ranks. If it’s any consolation, when this war ends, you can call yourself whatever you want. But up here, we’re part of the Rebel Fleet. We live and die by their rules.”
“I refuse to—”
“Listen, Miller,” I said. “I understand how you feel. Luckily, there is a solution. The relief ship will be meeting us with the rest of the crew in about twenty hours. You can go back to Earth, if you like. The rest of your team can go home as well. I’ll release you and get a new support crew.”
Miller glowered at me, but he seemed a little uncertain as to what to do. He heaved a sigh and tried to think.
“What about that girl?” he asked. “Gwen, I mean. Is she all right?”
We went to Medical and found Gwen. Dr. Chang was working on her with normal human medical instruments, but most of the work had already been done.
She had her arm in a sling. Her shoulder had been hanging low, but now it was up and looking normal again.
“You look better than I’d hoped,” Miller said.
“Thank you, Colonel—ah, I mean Chief,” Gwen replied, nodding at his button.
It seemed like he wanted to grind his teeth for a moment, but he controlled himself.
“I’m sorry for striking you. But you were beating in the skull of my pilot.”
“No apologies are necessary. Let’s just try to stick together as humans among the Kher.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “You aren’t suggesting they’ll spring contests like that on us in the future, are you?”
“It depends on how we do,” I said. “If we fail in our duties, we won’t be worth much in the way of status points. Fighting us personally won’t gain rank for anyone. But if we do well—watch your back.”
Miller shook his head and stretched painfully. “Hard to believe such a disorganized mob can wage war.”
“The Imperials usually win due to their superior organizational structure,” Dr. Chang explained. “But the Rebel system does cause people to struggle to be their best.”
“So you’re saying the Imperials have a normal, military hierarchy?” Miller asked. “Without ambushing one another for rank?”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe we’re on the wrong side,” he said thoughtfully.
My crew and I shuffled and frowned. We all hated the Imperials.
“It’s funny, Blake,” Miller mused. “I’ve read all your reports, and other people’s analyses, but it’s different to be in the middle of this madness. I’m more impressed now that you managed to thrive in such a difficult environment.”
“Thanks.”
That was the end of our conversation, but not the end of our conflict. I could tell Miller hadn’t fully accepted his new role. He’d clearly decided to play it cool for now, to learn the ropes and figure out his next move.
He hadn’t given up on commanding Hammerhead, of that much I was certain.
=20=
The next day the full crew of Hammerhead arrived to join us. The ship had room for around a hundred, but there were only seventy-one people aboard when we followed Killer into our vortex and jumped to another star system.
We hugged onto our mothership like a duckling, following as closely as we dared. Hammerhead wasn’t large enough to generate a full rip in space, having only a small phasing field for stealth. Like all small ships in the Rebel Fleet, she had to tag along with a larger, capital ship that could generate the power to create a true transformational field.
This trip through the interstellar flux was a strange one. On every previous occasion, we’d done such jumps using Kher-built ships. This time was different. This was an Earth-built ship, and that made me nervous. Our technology was centuries behind, and copying a good design didn’t always mean you’d gotten it right on the first try.
“Should we go into phase during this jump?” Dalton asked me as we followed Killer into a swirling vortex.
“No,” I said. “I say we keep this as simple as possible.”
Miller cleared his throat. I’d brought him onto the bridge to serve with me, as he had plenty of detailed training in operating this vessel. I hoped he wouldn’t cause a scene, and so far, he hadn’t.
“What is it, Chief?” I asked.
Miller’s cheek-muscles bulged at the mention of his new rank. I didn’t care—much. After a second, when he didn’t answer, I decided to relent and use his name instead.
“Your input, Miller?” I asked.
“This ship was designed to take jumps like this while out-of-phase. That way, if we pop out of the rip into a battle, we won’t be targeted.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Okay,” I said, “next time, we’ll engage the phasing system. This time, I want a clean jump—to make sure everything goes right.”
Miller said nothing. He didn’t even look at me. He just stood there woodenly, staring straight ahead through the ship’s hull at Killer.
Deciding I had no more time for sour non-coms, I turned back to the pilot. Henderson was manning the helm, with Dalton at her side as a co-pilot. I wanted him to learn from her. We needed a backup pilot.
The flight went smoothly all the way to the rip, but when we entered it the ship shook—and that didn’t work out so well.
“I’m reading a pressure loss, lower deck!” Dr. Chang called out. “We’re venting, Captain!”
As in all navies, there was the rank of captain and the role of captain. They weren’t necessarily the same thing. In my case, I was a lieutenant commander in the Rebel Fleet, but serving as Hammerhead’s captain.
Miller knew this, but he still cast an irritated look in Chang’s direction. He didn’t like to hear anyone calling me “captain” even if it was used correctly.
“Support? Compensate,” I ordered, talking to Samson and another crewman who were working the support systems. “And I want a helmet-check on every crewman.”
While they worked to perform these duties, Miller watched with his arms crossed. I was running the show and doing it naturally. That bugged him, despite the fact I was the only person present who’d actually commanded a ship in hyperspace.
Fortunately, we weren’t stuck in hyperspace for long. Within minutes we came out of the rip beside Killer, still hugging close.
“Engage phasing system,” I ordered.
“Phasing engaged,” Miller called out. He placed himself at that station, as he had nothing else better to do.
I decided it was a good spot for him. He’d been trained to monitor and control the phasing-system, and no one else had more experience with it than he did.
“Venting is under control and isolated,” Chang said. “Lower deck, chamber three, is depressurized. We’ve got a repair team looking for the leak.”
“Good work everyone,” I said. “We’re alive, and it looks like we didn’t scatter. Hammerhead has made her first jump successfully.”
There was some ragged clapping, but soon everyone was back to their tasks.
Miller drifted close to me again. We had a functioning anti-grav unit now, and everyone was weightless. By dampening inertia and gravitational influences, it made harsh maneuvers feel like nothing while inside the ship.
“Just one question, Blake,” Miller said. “Why not use the phasing system while we’re in hyperspace? Your own reports indicate the Imperials do it as a matter of course.”
“Yes, they do,” I admitted. “They like to be out of phase when they enter a new star system, so they can surprise us. Often, the only sign you get indicating a phase-ship has entered the system is the first disruptor blast they release.”
“So…?”
“I don’t like testing new ships under such circumstances. I figured it was more likely that some kind of power surge would overload our systems during our trip through hyperspace, than an enemy ship might be waiting to blast us when we arrived.”
“A hunch, eh? Flying by intuition?”
“No—experience. We’re far from the Orion Front, so I figured the odds were low that we’d run into any kind of trouble out here. On the other hand, the odds that an untested system might fail are closer to even money.”
He stared at me for a moment, then nodded, as if conceding my point for now.
“What’s my role to be on this ship, Blake?” he asked.
There it was, he’d come out with it. I decided it was up to me to mend fences.
“That’s up to you, Miller. You can operate the phasing-system, or…”
He frowned at the phasing control boards. He didn’t seem impressed. It wasn’t a complex task, and it wasn’t even used all that often.
“Or what?” he asked.
“Or, you can be my XO. But that’s only if you accept my authority and—”
“I’ll do it,” he said, extending his hand.
Startled, I took his hand, and we shook on it. Neither of us was quite able to smile, but at least we weren’t punching each other.
What was it that Lyndon Johnson had said? Better to have your enemies inside the tent pissing out than outside the tent pissing in...
Unfortunately, after our shift at the helm ended, some of my other crewmembers didn’t like the idea as much as I did.
“You gave that man a senior position?” Gwen demanded. “Why not me, or Chang—or, hell, even Dalton?”
“Miller is more qualified than anyone else aboard. He’s a real officer, and—”
“Like hell he is,” she complained. “He doesn’t know crap about space, or the Rebel Fleet. The Kher will eat him for breakfast. Besides, you owe all of us more than you do him.”
“Listen,” I told her, “I understand how you feel. After all, he broke your shoulder. But we have to weld this team together. We’ve got a big crew, but only about fifteen total trained flight-deck personnel. Miller’s team makes up a third of that.”
“So what? How many people does it take to sleep at the helm?”
“This isn’t like our old fighter,” I explained. “We won’t be parking and sleeping aboard Killer any more. We’ll have to have rotating shifts, a twenty-four hour watch schedule.”
“Hmm…” she said thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess. But I still hate him.”
“Noted.”
She left, and I looked after her. The ship was already full of tension. Some of the new crewmen were starry-eyed and all smiles as they explored her cramped decks. But just as many were whispering gossip and speculation in the passages.
Whenever I walked to the head up in the prow to relieve myself, I passed by some of the new people. They always clammed up and stared.
Deciding I needed to talk to a neutral party, I moved downstairs to the mid-deck and found my way to the labs in the aft section.
Dr. Abrams reigned supreme here. He had a staff of seven scientists working for him, and they all seemed excited about being in space at last. Even Abrams was in a good mood—which was a first for him.
“Doc,” I said, “can I have a word?”
He looked up in surprise from some instrumentation he’d been unpacking.
“Certainly, Blake.”
We stepped aside while the rest worked. They’d packed up all their equipment extremely tightly, as if expecting a lot of violent shaking. That was all in the past now, however, as long as the anti-grav system was operating. It prevented inertial shifts from throwing our stuff around no matter what kind of maneuvering the ship was doing.
“I hear you somehow stole command of this ship already?” Abrams asked.
“You heard wrong,” I said. “The Rebel Fleet brass gave me rank and awarded me command of this ship.”
“And how did this miracle occur?”
“In a traditional Rebel ceremony.”
He laughed. “That’s what you call bashing one another like a pack of apes?”
My sym pressed visions of violent expression into my mind, and I was beginning to regret talking to him.
“Look,” I said, “I made a mistake coming here. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait!” he called to my retreating back.
I stopped at the hatchway, considering my options. I checked my sym for updates—there were none, other than a routine system scan. We were cruising around an uninteresting M-class star, looking for a world to pick up more recruits for Killer.
Abrams stepped to my side and looked at me. “I apologize,” he said.
I glanced at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you knew the meaning of those words.”
He snorted. “I do. I just use them sparingly.”
“Good enough. I came down here to ask your help in welding this crew together.”
“You mean you want to know how you can get sixty-five shocked crewmen to serve you as their rightful captain?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
He looked thoughtful. “Give me full access to Killer’s sensor feeds,” he said.
“What?”
“To access all that data, I’ll need a sym, of course. Like yours. So I can perform your tricks of perception, and—”
“How is that going to help me run this ship?”
“Firstly, it will help you accomplish your mission from the point of view of Earth. Space Command wants information—hard data. The best way to get that is from the Kher. I can use your identity to access things I could never get from the ground.”
“Great, yeah, I understand you want to play spy. But how does that help me?”
“Besides the obvious of doing your duty as an Earthling, it will also gain you my support. My team will extoll your virtues to everyone aboard.”
I looked at his team dubiously. They were nerds, down to the last. They had more college degrees than social skills.
I sighed. It was probably the best offer I was going to get.
“All right,” I said. “You’ve got a deal. We’ll spy, and you’ll vote for me when the time comes.”
“Is there to be a vote?” he asked in surprise.
I chuckled. “No. The Kher wouldn’t even understand the concept. They only respect brute force. I was speaking figuratively.”
“Ah… the words of a tyrant. I understand completely.”
And he did. He huddled his scientists, gave them the details, and they frowned at me thoughtfully. I left the lab shaking my head.
=21=
Six jumps later, everything had become routine. When we traveled to new star systems, Miller served at my right hand on the bridge. He also covered for me faithfully while I slept.
It was after the sixth jump that things changed.
We’d started using the phasing system, coming out of hyperspace in an undetectable state. Each time we reached a new star system, we took the time to have a good look around with our passive sensors before we turned off the effect. Today was no different—at least, that’s how it seemed at first.
“Big star—big planets,” Dr. Chang said, reading off the updating projection of the star system we’d just arrived in.
While phasing, we were almost as blind as the ships that might be searching for us. The main difference was we could detect energy and particle radiation sources while we were phased, at the same time giving off none of our own.
It was like being blinded, but invisible and listening in a large, unknown cavern. We could hear echoes and feel our way around, sniffing the dank air for clues. But we couldn’t see clearly, not without being seen in turn.
“I have Killer placed at a range of six miles,” Miller said.
“Isn’t that about twice as far away as she was when we entered the stellar flux?”
“Yes,” he answered, frowning, “she seems to be accelerating away from us—toward a large gravity-mass. That’s the local star, I would assume.”
“Should I establish radio contact and ask them what they’re doing?” Gwen asked.
I frowned. “No. That would give us away.”
Miller looked at me sharply. “I thought we weren’t hiding from them.”
“As you’ve said before,” I said. “Our only advantage in combat is stealth. Let’s make sure there’s nothing wrong before we give away that card.”
He shrugged and looked back to his boards. “Everyone gets spooked sometimes,” he said in a conversational tone.
I glared at his back, as did Samson. Dalton grinned, seemingly amused by Miller’s sarcasm.
Not wanting to let my attention wander, I turned back to the screens.
“Keep pumping the data down to Abrams,” I ordered. “Maybe his analysts will see something we’re missing.”
“Why isn’t Killer transmitting anything?” Gwen asked. “No pings, nothing.”
“Maybe Ursahn sees something,” I suggested. “She might be maneuvering and trying to avoid giving away her position. Helm, follow Killer. Stay on her tail, but don’t gain on her.”
Abrams contacted me with his sym a few minutes later. I allowed the intrusion, and we spoke privately. His voice stimulated my aural nerves artificially, with no one else able to listen in.
“Blake? What’s going on up there? Why am I not getting any feed from Killer?”
“We haven’t cut your line, Doc,” I said. “She’s not feeding us anything. Your team is getting everything we have. I want analysis from your people on our sensor data.”
“Hmm… We don’t have much to go on, but I don’t like what I see. The central star is an F-class—a hot white star. She has two small brown dwarf stars circling her. Further out, there are a crowd of planets, comets, debris… and some of that garbage is moving in eccentric patterns.”
This last comment jolted my mind. “Display any large masses that are moving independently.”
“Define ‘large’ in this context.”
I wanted to go down stairs and strangle him, but I resisted the urge—again. “Anything the size of a spaceship.”
“Well, that covers a lot of ground. I’ll set the threshold for a twenty meter in diameter mass… transmitting.”
What came up on our displays made us all gasp. There were clusters of similarly sized objects, about a hundred in each of three groups. At the center of each group was a single, larger mass. There was only one easy conclusion to make.
“What we have here is three carrier groups,” I told my people. “They’ve released their fighters in pursuit of Killer, who’s trying to get some distance to perform another jump.”
“Are they Imperials?” Miller asked in alarm.
“That would be a logical assumption,” I said. “Helm, stay on our mothership’s tail. She’s our only ticket out of this system.”
Miller turned on me slowly. “If Killer is destroyed, we’ll be stranded here with their enemy carriers? What will we do then?”
I gave him a savage grin. “Blow them all up,” I said. “One at a time.”
Tension filled the room over the next several minutes. We tried to keep up with Killer, but it was all we could do maintain our stealth and limp along in her wake. We were losing ground.
“Captain,” Dr. Chang said from navigation, “according to my calculations, we’re slipping outside the escape window. I recommend we turn off the phasing unit and catch up to Killer before she jumps away without us.”
All eyes were on me. I shook my head slowly. “We’ve got a little time. Ursahn knows we’re out here.”
“But does she care?” Miller asked.
I didn’t look at him, it was a good question that I didn’t feel like answering.
“I’ve got new contacts ahead,” Gwen said, “Killer is releasing her fighters.”
“They should have jumped, it’s three to one,” Miller said.
“Maybe they can’t,” I suggested.
Drifting around the deck from station to station, I studied the situation from every angle we had incoming from our instrumentation, but I couldn’t get a clear picture. Was Killer damaged, or was Ursahn just in the mood for a fight?
Finally a message came from Ursahn in the clear. “All ships target the forward carrier. Ignore enemy interceptors—go for the kill.”
The transmission was scratchy, but the meaning was clear enough. She’d transmitted that message to warn me, I was sure of that much.
“Come about,” I ordered. “All engines stop. We’ll wait for the first carrier to come close. Let the enemy fighters go by—I want the carrier itself.”
Miller looked tense, but he didn’t argue with me. Now and then, I noticed, his half of the flight crew gave him a meaningful glance. On every occasion he nodded slightly in return. Were they checking with him? Making sure he agreed with my decisions? I hoped it wasn’t that. Maybe he was just reassuring them.
Whatever the case, we brought the ship around and lay in wait. This was the purpose for which every phase-ship was designed. We didn’t chase prey, so much as lay in wait for them to come by. Ambush was our sole tactic, and I hoped it would be as effective today as it had been in centuries past on Earth.
We didn’t have long to wait. A flock of enemy fighters flickered by our position. It was unnerving to see them on our scopes, zooming close, then passing us without firing. It appeared we would be swarmed until the last moment. Quietly trusting the phasing-technology with our very lives was difficult for me.
But it worked. The fighters stormed by, and we jockeyed slightly for a good attack position.
At last it came, and we slid forward as silently as space itself.
“Wait until our firing solution is optimal,” I said. “I want a point-blank strike amidships.”
“They might see us when we get that close,” Gwen complained.
“Hold stealth. Hold fire.”
A timer ticked down on the virtual screens. When it read all zeroes, Miller shut off the phasing system.
“We’re visible!” he said, staring at me with wide eyes. He had beads of perspiration on his face.
I nodded to him confidently, as if he’d done no more than announce the arrival of a shipment of mail from Earth.
A flood of data hit our screens. It was almost too much to take in for a moment. We’d been flying in the dark for so long, it all seemed overwhelming.
The nearest object was the lead enemy carrier. There were some fighters around, but no more than a single squadron all told. Most had been sent to swarm and destroy Killer.
“Weapons station,” I said, “fire the main gun at will.”
The weapons station was manned by Miller’s people, but they launched their strike immediately, not even glancing at Miller for reassurance.
Our single heavy cannon on Hammerhead’s prow tracked and released its deadly payload. A surge of heavy radiation along with a rippling effect that warped space struck the enemy carrier.
“We should phase out again, Blake!” Miller shouted.
“Hold on. We have to assess this strike first.”
We watched as the carrier we’d hit reacted to our heavy blow. She had her shields up, but they’d been directed forward, toward the visible enemy ships. To be hit by surprise in the guts—that wasn’t what she’d been designed for.
At least ten seconds passed. They were long seconds. The interceptors protecting the big ship were ordered to attack us at last and peeled off, changing their trajectories. I wanted to order us to phase out, but I held on.
“There it is!” Dalton called out exultantly.
At first, the big Imperial carrier had appeared to be hurt but not catastrophically. She was venting, and listing, with her belly shields offline. Her interceptors continued to barrel in until dread began to reach all of us.
But as it turned out, the carrier was in much worse shape than these signs indicated. As we watched, she broke apart. The forward section cracked away with internal explosions, and it quickly shredded into a dozen flaring pieces of junk. The stern went dark at the same time but maintained integrity. The rear half of the vessel went into a tumble as one of the engines shut down later than the others, causing the uneven mass to flip end-over-end.
“Good God…” Gwen said, her voice sounding lost. “At least this fight isn’t completely hopeless.”
“That’s a kill,” Miller said, his tone disbelieving. “That’s a clean kill. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Miller, take us back into phase immediately,” I ordered.
He looked at me, stunned. “Right… but we could make sure—”
“Immediately.”
He bent to his boards. He seemed to be in shock. Maybe he couldn’t believe I’d actually destroyed an enemy ship before his eyes. Or maybe this was all becoming real to him at last. Whatever the case, he said nothing as we phased out again.
“Helm, swing hard sunward,” I ordered.
“That’s right into the teeth of the other two carriers,” Henderson said, working the helm controls. “They might see us if we get too close.”
“Noted. Swing hard sunward.”
It was an easy maneuver, and I’d chosen it for just that reason. While stealthed, we were partially blind ourselves, and the easiest navigational beacon we had was the main star in the system. I didn’t want my fledgling crew to become disoriented. Besides that, it was an unexpected course. The enemy would look in this direction last—I hoped.
We watched with limited data again, the tension on the bridge so thick it could be cut with a blade. No one spoke as the two remaining carriers bore down on us.
These two sister ships pulled closer to one another, and their small groups of fighters hugged them even more tightly. They were running their shields in full encirclement mode now, I’d wager.
When they came close to where we’d killed their fellow, they slowed.
“Could they be picking up survivors?” Miller asked.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Sir,” Gwen said, “looks like they’ve recalled their fighter wings. We’ve drawn them off Killer.”
There was ragged cheering at that, but Miller came to stand close to me. His eyes locked with mine.
“Ursahn will pull out, won’t she?” he said. “She’d be a fool not to.”
“You may be right,” I said. “I’m not sure how honor and emotion will guide her in this instance.”
“Emotion?” he scoffed. “It’s simple tactics. Her ship is larger, more important. You gave her the time she needs to escape. She still can’t hope to win this two Imperial carriers up against one of ours. The third ship’s fighters are still out there as well, circling.”
I shrugged. “You might be right, but Kher tactics are rarely full of logic. She might charge in a wild fury—or run off. It’s hard to say.”
He shook his head. “Such a lack of discipline. Look at these carriers in any case. The enemy is almost stationary. I bet they’re picking up survivors.”
“You could be right.”
“We should strike again now, before the majority of their fighters return. We’ll never get a better shot.”
There was no snappy answer to that statement. He had a good point. We probably wouldn’t get a better shot at them.
Then again, even if we did somehow manage to nail one more carrier, the other would probably destroy us. They knew we were out here now, and they were taking every precaution.
Even one more kill was unlikely now that they’d been forewarned. They were now positioned so as to make another sucker-punch much more difficult. Probably, it would be suicide to attempt an attack now.
I looked at Miller seriously. “This is Earth’s one and only warship. If we vanish now after having been deployed only weeks ago, it might set Space Command years back… How would you play it?”
Miller worked his mouth without speaking for a moment. “It’s a hard choice, but I’d take the shot.”
In that instant, I didn’t believe him. I’d taken his measure by now. He was a cautious player, a by-the-book man. Sure, he liked to talk big, but he didn’t seem like a real risk-taker to me.
But none of that mattered. I was in command, and the decision was mine alone to make.
I stared at the ships hanging out there in space nearby. It was strange to have our enemies within easy reach and unable to detect our relatively small vessel.
Whatever choice I was to make, I was going to have to make it fast. The enemy fighter squadrons were only minutes away. I stared at the screens, and everyone else stared at me.
Sometimes, command can be a difficult thing.
=22=
“Captain?” Gwen called. “We have something else on scope.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s better if I send you the screen.”
She made a swiping motion, and she transmitted a distant region of space to my attention. I studied it, seeing little of interest at first.
“What—?” I began, but then the computers interpolated the data and drew me a mass of fighters with a carrier close behind them.
I began to smile grimly. “Ursahn has decided to charge?”
“Looks that way.”
“That crazy old monster…” I said affectionately. “Let’s try to slip behind the carriers. If she’s hitting their front shields, they’ll have a hard time keeping full shielding up all around.”
One of the best powers of phase-ships was the uncertainty they created in the enemy. You didn’t know where you had to defend, and so it was a natural tendency to try to defend everything. That was a mistake, usually, as it made your defense at critical fronts weaker.
Miller seemed to grasp this immediately. “If the Imperials face off with Ursahn’s ship, they can’t afford to devote full power to their forward shields,” he said thoughtfully. “That means we’re hurting them just by hanging around. We don’t even have to strike to help Ursahn.”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Then you played it right,” Miller admitted. “As long as they don’t find us too soon, we can get back into the action whenever we think the time is right.”
My eyes stayed glued to the screens as he spoke. His did the same. It seemed to me that with less input, we were even more riveted to what we had. Or perhaps it was just the reality that we were sneaking around right in the midst of the enemy, with the ever-present possibility of being detected hanging over us.
Already, small groups of fighters were hunting local space for us, spreading out and methodically searching. I’d had that duty long ago as a fighter pilot. It was nerve-wracking for both sides.
“Abrams,” I said, “Doc, I need some predictive analysis. I’m giving you the enemy search pattern. It seems somewhat random, but I know it’s not. Imperials don’t do random things.”
“You want me to tell you where they’ll go next?” Abrams asked.
“No, that would be too much to ask. What I want is for you to give me a safe path through, marking every region they’ve already searched.”
“They’ll double-back and recheck areas periodically.”
“Exactly! That’s where the predictive analysis part comes in.”
Abrams made an odd sound. “I think we can do it. Out.”
“Helm,” I said, “as soon as Abrams reports back, follow his navigational instructions.”
Miller stared at me. “You trust that old buzzard with our necks?”
“Remember, he’s in this ship with us. If he screws up, we’re all dead.”
“Good point.”
Nine minutes passed, and I was about to go down to Abrams’ lab to see if he was napping or having a donut break. But then he called back. I piped the data directly to Henderson, who guided us with a steady hand.
“I could have done this by feel,” Dalton complained.
“No doubt you could have,” I told him.
He tossed me a small sneer, and I knew that he knew I was humoring him.
When we’d maneuvered behind the two enemy carriers, a beautiful thing happened—two rips opened up in space-time. They were directly in front of the enemy carriers.
“They’re running!” Gwen shouted.
“Permission to engage, Captain?” Henderson asked, her hands on the controls.
I was quiet for a second, as was everyone else.
“No,” I said. “Let them go.”
Moments later, the two big ships sucked up their fighters like strange fish from the bottom of the sea. Then they entered their respective breaches and vanished.
When they were gone, Ursahn hailed us in the clear.
“Hammerhead, this is Killer. Are you alive?”
“We’re here, sir. We’re undamaged.”
And that was it. The end of my first battle in space commanding a phase-ship—hell, it was the first battle Earth had ever had in space with a vessel of her own construction.
We were exhilarated, and we were instantly overwhelmed with fatigue. All the tension over the preceding hours hit us, and we lounged in our chairs.
Some shouted and celebrated. Others closed their eyes, prayed, or left the decks for their bunks.
I stayed on station as Killer came toward us, and we revealed ourselves at last.
“Would you please report to my chambers, Captain Blake?” Ursahn asked. “We have things to discuss.”
“I’ll be right there,” I said.
Ursahn provided transport in the form of a fighter, rather than having us dock again. I didn’t object. I boarded the tiny vessel with a crew of beings that had tentacles instead of lips, and rode in silence to Killer.
When I arrived at her chambers, I sat on a stump-like seat she provided. These were comfortable only if you were a member of her species, but I didn’t complain.
“I have questions, Blake,” she said when we were alone.
“Ask away, sir.”
“Why did you engage the enemy when they pursued us?”
“Because if they destroyed your ship, we were lost as well.”
She nodded gravely and made a note with her clawed hands in the air.
“And later, when the enemy attempted to retreat—why did you not attack then?”
“To do so would be to lose my ship. They were aware of me, and they were taking precautions. What’s more, they had two ships and three fighter squadrons nearby.”
She made another note and looked at me thoughtfully. “Do you know why I came back to strike at them?”
I shifted on my hard seat uncomfortably. I was beginning to get the idea she disapproved of my actions—but it didn’t seem fair that she should do so.
“To save my ship—or possibly to secure glory for yourself.”
She shook her head and snorted loudly through flared nostrils. “I was going to suggest to the admiralty they give you a commendation—that’s worth many points toward rank.”
“And why wouldn’t you?”
“Because, in each instance you acted only for self-preservation. There was no sense of sacrifice for the greater good. I would hesitate to call your actions completely honorable. They were bravely done, and you executed your plans well. But there is a certain distaste to them, all the same.”
“Look, Ursahn,” I said, becoming irritated, “this is a war. A real war, against a dishonorable enemy. I offer you tactics that allow for victory. Isn’t it time for you to accept that my methods are superior?”
She gave me a hard stare. “Consider this, human. If I had acted as you did, you and your crew would be dead by now. Either that, or lost in this miserable system forever.”
She dismissed me then, and I exited her chambers, thinking hard. She had a strong argument. It wasn’t logic that had brought her back to fight and save my ship. She’d done it to save a comrade in trouble.
For that very reason, I was still breathing now, and we’d won the day.
=23=
Returning to the hangar deck, I almost made it to the waiting transport that was supposed to take me back to Hammerhead—but not quite.
A group of three officers wearing silver triangles for rank insignia greeted me as I stepped off the lift. A fourth officer, Commander Shaw himself, stood at a distance, observing.
I knew right off what was up. I’d served in the Rebel Fleet long enough to see the obvious signs of an ambush.
My first thought was to get back aboard the lift and escape up to the command deck again. Lower ranks weren’t allowed to fight up there—but these bastards had already seen to that not happening. I passed my hand near the controls, and the elevator didn’t budge. The doors didn’t even open.
Turning back to my soon-to-be assailants, I noted they were of an uncommon breed. They were ape-like, all of them. Hairy, squat, with long limbs and low brows. They lifted their lips to show me their teeth in a chimp-like grin.
“Welcome to our ship, Blake-creature,” said the nearest one. He had the shortest stature and widest shoulders.
Possibly, a broad chest was more indicative of leadership than was height in their culture.
“What’s up, Shorty?” I asked him, nonchalantly putting my hand on my disruptor’s grip.
They had steel clubs in their hands and disruptors at their sides. I knew, of course, all our disruptors were harmless. While aboard ship, the lower crewmen had their weapons disabled. The brass generally allowed people to fight—but not with deadly weapons.
They knew this too, but the way I reached for my weapon with easy competence made their toothy grins fade. They shuffled and milled around, looking worried and angry.
“You can’t shoot Gref!” shouted the leader. “Your gun doesn’t work!”
“No?” I asked, drawing my weapon smoothly and aiming it at his feet. “Let’s see if I can take off a toe. You have too many down there, anyway.”
They were six-toed and six-fingered. From their behavior, I figured that might not be a coincidence.
“You can’t do that!” insisted Gref.
“How do you think I win battles?” I asked. “I’ll tell you how, Gref my boy: I cheat.”
This caused them to move with even greater agitation. Gref turned to Shaw.
“If he shoots me, he will be punished?”
“Absolutely,” Shaw said.
“Then I will beat him!”
“Hold on,” I said, lifting my weapon and leveling it. “Your punishment will be greater than mine.”
This was a poser for Gref. He glared, and shuffled, and worked the air with his long, hairy fingers like he was trying to cast a spell.
“Shaw will punish you, not me!” he announced.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, speaking slowly and clearly. “Think Gref: you’ll be dead. No points for you. That will be your punishment.”
For some odd reason, this struck Gref as funny. He rumbled and hooted. His companions joined in. He made strange gestures toward me. I had no idea what he was thinking, and my attention stayed riveted on those three bright metal clubs.
Then, without further words, they turned and shuffled away. One of them spun around at the last moment and hurled his weapon at me.
Such speed and power! I was surprised, and I barely ducked my head out of the way. I took the blow in my shoulder, and it felt as if my rotator cuff was torn. At the very least, it would be stiff and sore.
“Damned apes!” I complained as they retreated.
Shaw advanced after they’d left. He looked stern. “Hand over your weapon, Blake.”
I cast a confused glance at his outstretched hand.
“My disruptor? Why?”
“Because you must have tampered with it. Otherwise, it should still be on lockout and unable to fire aboard the ship at this time.”
This threw me for a second, then I laughed. “No, no,” I said. “That was a bluff. My weapon doesn’t work, see?”
Drawing it quickly, I shot him in the chest—or rather, I would have if it had been functional. I activated it several times with no result.
After flinching, he snatched it from my hand and examined it.
“This is a standard issue sidearm,” he said in surprise.
“Of course.”
“Then… why did you tell Gref that it wasn’t?”
I rolled my eyes, but I knew that meant nothing to most Kher. “Because I was bluffing. I didn’t feel like getting my butt kicked by those idiots.”
He glared at me sternly. He pulled out a computer scroll and made a note with his sym. “That will go down as a cheat. You’ve lost three points today—one for each honest man you deceived.”
“Whatever,” I said. It was disrespectful, but I wasn’t in the mood for saluting him right now. He’d known about this ambush, and he’d said nothing to warn me. To my mind, he was the dick here, not me.
“Primates,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Just a minute, Shaw,” I said as he moved to walk away. “I’m confused about today’s action. Why were we fighting Imperial carriers?”
“Because we found them in this system, and they assaulted our ship.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “I’ve got that. But I thought the Imperials were sending some kind of robot ship. Some kind of big unmanned vessel called a Hunter?”
He shrugged. “Not this time, apparently.”
Thinking hard, I marched away onto the flight deck. It’s not that all the other Kher were dummies, but they were usually very focused on a single task. They were mostly predators, as that type of being tended to work its way to the top of any planetary food chain. When they saw an enemy, they fought it. But getting into the head of the enemy and predicting moves? That was monkey-business as far as they were concerned.
Even though they were natural killers, deadly by reflex, most species I’d met up with lacked skills when it came to deception. Some of the primates too—Gref’s team as a case-in-point—seemed to lack them as well.
The Imperials were different, however. They were more like humans than most of the Kher. They fought in an organized fashion, and they could be deceptive.
My mind kept turning over the details of the battle we’d just fought. Why would the Imperials send carriers to this system, if they were using a Hunter so effectively elsewhere? The question kept bothering me as I crossed the flight deck.
At last I found the fighter that was to take me back to Hammerhead, and I eyed the pilot suspiciously. His helmet barely fit, and his six long fingers wrapped around the stick with several inches of muscle, skin and bone to spare.
He just happened to be of the same race Gref had been. I looked him over speculatively.
“You know how to fly this thing?” I asked.
“Yeah, sure. Gref know that.”
“Your name is Gref? I met another man named Gref just a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, sure. Him Gref too. We all Gref.”
I nodded, and I reached for my harness to strap in. Gref watched closely—but not closely enough. My hand came up again with my sidearm in it.
“Get out,” I said, aiming my disruptor at his belly.
“Gref pilot you.”
“Nope, not today. Get out Gref—now.”
Slowly, he climbed out of his seat and left the vehicle. I locked it behind him, then carefully inspected the small ship’s interior to make sure no other “Grefs” were hiding anywhere. I didn’t find anyone, so I took off and flew back to Hammerhead.
When I’d reached my own ship, I set the ship on autopilot and let Killer’s CAG take it home. This got me an ear-full from traffic control, but I didn’t care. I told them Gref had abandoned his post, and they seemed to buy that lie.
When I stepped onto my own bridge again, I was smiling. Just the thought of someone from the CAG’s station complaining to the Grefs about their misconduct, and the resulting confusion, amused me.
=24=
The ship jumped twice more over the following week, until we reached an advanced forward base. I recalled when they’d built this space station, and a string of similar bases near the Orion Front.
With all that had happened, I was surprised to see it was still here, still intact. I docked alongside Ursahn’s bigger ship and marched aboard without orders.
As a captain of an independent vessel, I figured it was my right to do so. No one had explicitly told me I couldn’t.
“Is this wise?” Dr. Abrams asked, walking in my shadow.
I’d brought him along, of all people, because he had his fingertips on the most detailed data. I planned to meet with the station commander and try to get some answers out of the local brass.
“Surprising moves are always wise when dealing with the Kher. Being predictable will only get your skull dented.”
Abrams eyes were wide, and he kept looking behind us. I couldn’t blame him for that. He’d read my reports, and he knew there had been two incidents of violence already.
“Honestly,” he said, “I thought your reports of Kher savagery were exaggerated.”
“Exaggerated? Why would I do that?”
He smirked. “History is replete with accounts from returning explorers that have been, shall we say, self-aggrandizing.”
“So you figured I made it all up? All the arena combats and duels for honor?”
“No, not entirely. I just assumed you’d painted yourself in the best possible light. After all, you weren’t known as a paragon of truth before you left Earth—I read that part of your file as well.”
I nodded thoughtfully. That made sense. I’d been a beach-bum on Maui before the Kher had picked me up. I’d been something of a shady character, in fact. That my reports would later be taken with a grain of salt—well, I guess that could only be expected.
“I see…” I said. “Well, in that case I’m sorry to inform you that the real world out here in space is just as strange and violent as my reports indicated.”
“It’s quite disappointing. How can these people expect to defeat a technologically superior foe without unity of purpose?”
“It’s like many things, I guess,” I said, “they operate on a principle of organized chaos.”
He stared at me. “You’re suggesting this barbarism is intentional? That they’ve thought it all out and still adopted braining one another with sticks? …and it’s just part of how things run here—like, for example, the stock markets on Earth?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “But I think they’ve taken their natural cultural customs and codified them, provided guidelines and regulations.”
Abrams gave a little shudder as we passed some particularly odd-looking examples of Kher genetic variation. “Those things look like walking eels!”
“Yeah… Don’t stare. That could be interpreted as a challenge.”
“But they’re staring at us!”
“That’s even worse. They’re trying to start something.”
Abrams put a shaky hand to his face, shielding his eyes. The two eels soon turned back to their conversation, and we passed them safely. They didn’t have their translators turned on, and their language sounded like someone was popping bubbles in their mouths.
“How are you feeling right now, Doc?” I asked.
“Faintly sick and highly alarmed.”
“But you’re alert, aren’t you? More ready for anything that comes your way than you ever would be back on Earth? Right?”
He lifted his fingers from his face, looking all around us. No one was trying to start anything at the moment. “You think that’s part of their grand plan, do you? To keep us on our toes?”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Try living among them for a few months and give me your analysis then.”
“I’ll do that—if I survive the experience.”
We arrived at the station commander’s office then and stopped. There were guards—each large and burly. They looked at us without humor or much interest.
I tapped my shoulder epaulets, which bore diamond-shaped emblems. Each of them sported only thin metal lines, indicating they were ensigns.
“Let me pass,” I said.
“The thing with you has no rank,” countered one of the hulking creatures.
“We plan to get him one from your station commander. Now, let us pass.”
The two swayed for a moment, mulling it over. Then they stood aside.
Abrams hurried after me as I strode between them. “So unfriendly. They looked like something out of a prehistoric catalogue of rare beasts.”
“Yeah… you’ll get used to that. There are literally thousands of variations. At some point in the distant past, the Imperial Kher decided to seed countless worlds.”
“What changed their behavior?” Abrams asked as we reached a second pair of large doors and pushed them open as well.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if any of the Wild Kher could tell you. But now, the Imperials are only interested in us as training dummies for their fleets.”
The station commander had no secretary, but there was a Terrapinian staffer waiting to greet us. Once past him we met the station commander.
He sat with his arms behind his head, leaning back in a large chair. He was a primate, and I recognized him. He was Admiral Fex.
His feet were occupied even though his hands weren’t. They were tapping and sliding around on the desk in front of him, manipulating virtual controls.
The desk’s surface was devoid of things like pen and tablets. Instead, it appeared to be a control mechanism. I could tell it was really a computer of sorts. The associated screen appeared to be the large wall opposite his desk, which was the one we’d just entered through. It surrounded us and glowed with imagery, although there was no projector in evidence.
“You’re spoiling my view, Blake,” Fex said. “Worse, you weren’t instructed to come here.”
Abrams and I looked around with wide eyes. The wall behind us, and the ceiling above, formed a perfect surface depicting a three dimensional image of floating stars and planets. They weren’t to scale, as the planets wouldn’t be visible at such a distance. Symbols noted important points, fleets were triangles of various colors—it was wondrous.
“Such depth of color and three-dimensional perspective…” Abrams said. “This is a fantastic display, sir.”
“Yes, it is—if you’re a primitive with no frame of reference.”
Abrams’ look of awe faltered. He wasn’t accustomed to being sneered at as a primitive.
“Admiral Fex,” I said, closing the door behind us, “we’ve got something of importance to discuss.”
“You’re interrupting me, Lieutenant Commander. I’m trying to think strategically.”
“Our thoughts may, in fact, aid you in your plotting.
Fex put his feet on the floor and rolled forward into a sitting position. His hairy hands fell onto the desktop, which glowed in watery pools around them, waiting for sensible input.
“Impudence and presumption,” he said. “Blake, I know you were helpful the last time the Imperials decided to play with our planets. But you should assume neither they nor I are anticipating a repeat performance.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Admiral,” I said turning around and feeling for the door. It clicked open and yawned wide. “Maybe it’s best we go then. Abrams?”
Abrams looked at me in confusion. Normally, he would have said something smart-ass, but I think he’d been cowed by the Kher base. He followed me without doing more than frown at me.
“Where are you going?” Fex demanded.
“We’re following your orders, Admiral,” I said. “Heading back to our ship. We can’t be bothering a strategic thinker who’s about to end this war in our favor. That would be suicide.”
Fex glared at me for a moment, then he gestured impatiently for me to come back to his desk.
“Get back here and tell me what’s on your mind,” he ordered.
“Are you sure, sir? I thought some pearl of wisdom was about to sprout from—”
“Shut up with the sarcasm, or I’ll order Ursahn to stage an all-hands rank-confirmation event.”
Abrams looked highly alarmed at this threat, and I couldn’t blame him.
Shrugging, I closed the doors, and they snicked into place, forming a seamless vista of the Orion Front.
“Let me come right to the point, Admiral,” I said. “We recently encountered three carriers—a small force by any measure—deep in our territory along the Orion Front. That was unexpected.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought the enemy was now operating solely through a large machine-manned, doomsday ship.”
“The automated Hunter?” he asked. “They’re using one on the front lines, but they still have supporting ships to deploy it.”
“Supporting ships…” Abrams said, speaking up in a thoughtful voice. “You mean to scout targets? To maintain control and supply lines?”
Fex aimed a long finger at Abrams. “Who is this…creature?”
“This is Dr. Abrams,” I said. “An earth scientist who specializes in space exploration and warfare.”
Fex snorted. “Really? I take it he built your single warship, then?”
“I did,” Abrams said.
“May I point out that the ship he built managed to destroy an Imperial carrier?” I asked.
Fex narrowed his eyes. “That didn’t escape me. That’s the sole reason, in fact, that you’re still here.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, “I know that you wanted humans in this fight. That you thought—”
“You’ve already failed,” Fex snapped. “I sent Ursahn out to bring you back into our service. The purpose was to get your system of hacking Imperial ships working again. From the reports I’ve read, you didn’t even try to do so during your first encounter.”
Suddenly, I was beginning to understand his hostility. He’d expected me to pull another rabbit out my hat and hack the Imperials despite their new precautions. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” I said. “But you have to understand, the only reason I was able to hack their ships before was because they were entirely undefended against that kind of attack. They’ve obviously retreated, regrouped, and updated their software. Now, they’ve returned with ships I can’t simply grab hold of by spamming them with unencrypted transmissions.”
Fex shook his head.
“We’d hoped…” he said, then stopped. “All right then. As long as you’re here, we might as well discuss the new situation—although I highly doubt it will do us any good.”
He proceeded to lay out strategic maps in three dimensions. The Orion Front was a large volume of space, some five thousand lightyears at the extremes, which contained hundreds of inhabited star systems. On our astronomical charts, it was part of what we called the Orion Spur, a flange of space densely populated by stars. Like our star, Sol, it was part of the larger Cygnus Carina spiral arm.
But, for all its relative insignificance in stellar volume, the Orion Front had apparently given birth to us all. The Orion cluster was a dusty region that hatched new stars, and the people who lived there were both fierce and ancient.
They were known to us as the Imperial Kher, a race that came out periodically from a restful state to wantonly destroy other civilizations—all of which were colonies of less-accomplished Kher.
No one knew exactly why they did this every thousand years, but it was a legendary event every time it happened.
“Here’s the pathetic sun you call Sol,” Fex said, zooming to where we could see our yellowish dwarf star. “The nearest beacon is Rigel. Straight on past Rigel, we come to Epsilon Aurigae—an F-class supergiant. It’s nearby, and it’s the beacon star that denotes the edge of the Orion Front.”
I followed along easily, as did Dr. Abrams. Unlike most Earthlings, we’d developed a good grasp of local astronomical landmarks.
“Here is where the trouble began, near this fortress. They struck a series of worlds—or rather, they sent their automated Hunter to do so for them.”
“Why haven’t they hit any of the fortresses yet?” I asked. “Like this one?”
“Why bother? They know where helpless civilians live. They’ve been making deep strikes in our territory instead, bypassing this useless line of forts. They prefer to destroy a star system at random and vanish before we can arrive with a fleet.”
“And that task force of three carriers that we met up with,” I said, “that was a scouting mission for them?”
“Yes,” Fex said, “presumably.”
“Have you tried to lay ambushes for this automated monster ship?” I asked. “Posting a large force at a likely target and waiting for them to show up?”
“We’ve thought about it, but the Rebel Fleet is only now straggling to the front lines. These new attacks were unexpected—unprecedented. We’ve completely demobilized. The Imperials didn’t wait for their customary thousand years—it’s been less than two since the last attack.”
I wasn’t going to follow up on that comment, but Abrams didn’t know any better.
“Why do you think that is?” he asked. “Why this sudden change in such a long-standing behavioral pattern?”
Fex hooded his eyes with heavily wrinkled lids. He directed a crooked finger at me.
“There’s your culprit! You’re standing right next to him. Blake embarrassed the Imperials, actually defeating them, rather than wearing them down. Now, they’ve decided to finish us off once and for all.”
“You mean… genocide?” Abrams asked. “Against all the Rebel Kher?”
Fex nodded tiredly. “We’re a threat now. Before, we were like beasts in the forest. Fun to hunt, nothing more. We served as lively entertainment for young captains in old ships that were joy-riding on training missions. But we weren’t supposed to win. We were supposed to sting them until they grew tired of the sport and went back to sleep.”
Abrams looked at me. “I don’t recall these details in your reports.”
I shrugged. “It’s all sheer speculation,” I said. “Including such unsubstantiated material would have been a theoretical exercise.”
Abrams eyed me with what I interpreted to be a touch of horror.
“Well…” Fex said, “it doesn’t matter. I’m giving you and your crew a special mission. A deep penetration into enemy territory. Just the kind of adventure you crave, Blake.”
“Uh… thanks,” I managed.
“Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have all the details for you. We’ll make such a hero out of you this time, the Ruling Council won’t be able to deny that you’re a true prodigy.
=25=
We left Fex’s office without having made a single useful suggestion of our own.
The problem was they’d already done what they could. They’d called in their dispersed forces, summoning them back to the front. They’d manned their fortresses, set ambushes—and they’d been completely ignored.
Even the new mustering process wasn’t going well. The individual planets involved seemed to feel they’d already met their obligations just a short while ago. They were slow to send new ships, new crews. On a hundred homeworlds, parents were no doubt complaining about suiting up their young and sending them back into the grinder.
After returning to our ship, I cautiously allowed shifts of personnel shore leave onto the station to explore. They were carefully briefed on etiquette, and we made sure they all had syms in their bloodstreams before they stepped off Hammerhead’s decks.
Even so, I felt nervous about allowing it. Quite a few of our people were civilians, like Abrams. They’d get a rough education if any of the locals decided to take them on.
“You can’t coddle them forever,” Gwen said, divining my thoughts.
“I know—but it seems unfair. Some of them are so excited and starry-eyed.”
“That’s true, but we didn’t get a honeymoon time like that. We were beaten down and desperate by the time we reached a Kher ship. To my mind that was more unfair than what these people are going to go through.”
I glanced at her thoughtfully. We had a strange relationship, Gwen and I. We’d had a few brief affairs, making love a few times, then going our separate ways. Perhaps if we’d met under less tumultuous circumstances, we’d have had a chance as a couple, but—
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“The answer is ‘no,’” she said firmly. “Sorry, Leo.”
“Uh… okay.”
“You should go try your luck with that PR girl, Robin.”
“Robin? Oh… yeah. She’s aboard, isn’t she? Haven’t seen her much on this trip.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Like you really didn’t know she was around. I’m going my own way now. I saw Robin heading to the commissary here on this station, in case you didn’t know.”
I tried not to look interested. “You did, huh?”
Gwen smiled at me. “As far as I know, she went alone. Maybe she’ll need some help. Maybe some turtles are trying to bash her head in right now. You’d better go over there and check.”
“Maybe I will.”
We parted ways, and the second she was out of my sight I headed to the commissary. The only place you could get a drink on this station was in the commissary. Not all Kher had discovered alcohol, and of those who had, some had outlawed it, or were allergic to it. In any case, it was rarely distributed in the Rebel Fleet. Given the natural aggressiveness of most Kher, that was probably a good thing.
When I found the place, it was the closest thing to a dive bar that could be found on a space station. There were Kher present, several different flavors of them. Most were primates like myself. We seemed to like booze the most.
Robin was there, circled by three curious creatures. They looked like orangutans, but without any hair on them at all. Robin, true to form, was smiling at them and seemed to be enjoying the attention.
One big fellow had his fingers wrapped up in her hair. I didn’t like that. Sure, this could just be a cross-species thing, but then again, it could be a setup for a takedown. Primates were really tricky, just like the pure predator-types said we were.
“Hey there, Robin!” I said in jovial voice. “I’ve been looking for you. You’re needed back on the ship.”
She looked at me in confusion for a second—or was she drunk? I wasn’t sure.
The guy with his finger in her hair was sure about his motives, however. He wound up a big curl in his fist, pulling Robin’s head in his direction.
“Hey!” she complained, spilling her drink and tilting her head awkwardly.
I was instantly pissed off. Call it a protective instinct, whatever you like, I was ready to fight.
“Ape, you’d better—” I began, approaching the group.
Robin held up her hand to me and caught my eye. She gave me the flat palm of her hand, the universal symbol to stop. I did so with difficulty.
“Roog?” she asked sweetly. “Could you let me have my hair back? Please?”
Roog slowly relented. She smiled at him, and he showed her a mouthful of crooked yellow stumps in return.
“Come join us, Leo,” Robin said. “Roog is buying. He’s very generous.”
Roog seemed to be swelling with pride. The other two companions of his leaned forward and shook their heads, but he ignored them.
“Yes,” he said, “the famous Blake-thing must join us. I insist!”
Warily, I sat with the group. Roog ordered something that stank and tasted sickly-sweet. I drank it, and my throat was on fire afterward. I couldn’t breathe. The alcohol content had to be at least fifty percent.
Soon, Roog’s drink was gone, and it was my turn to order a round. I chose a vodka-like booze mixed with something fruity—these primates had to have it sweet.
They tested the concoction and approved.
Robin leaned toward me, and her breath washed over me. She didn’t seem utterly wasted, however. Like many reporters, she could hold her liquor.
“They’ve got interesting news about the enemy,” she said.
Could that be it? Could she be pumping them for information? It seemed strange and dangerous, but it also was a role that would come naturally to Robin. Out here in space, we certainly didn’t need a PR girl—but we could always use a good spy.
“Roog,” I said conversationally. “I like a man who likes a drink. Kher such as us have to work together, we are like brothers!”
That was the kind of talk I’d heard before among primates, and it seemed to work this time.
“You speak the truth that cannot be questioned!” he said.
That was the first time I caught the full blasting torrent of Roog’s breath. It about curled my toes. Booze, rot and some kind of sharp stink I didn’t even want to identify. How was Robin withstanding it, sitting in a pawing circle of three of them? Her dedication impressed me.
“Then, brother, talk to me,” I said. “What do you know of events here on the Orion Front?”
“You spoke with Fex,” he said. “You know more than I do.”
I shook my head. “Fex doesn’t love me. He gives me scraps. I know our ships wait here at these fortresses, but the enemy avoids them. That isn’t like the Imperials. They never run from a fight.”
Roog shot a single brown finger skyward.
“You make a poor assumption!” he said. “They aren’t running, they are probing. They’re unusually cautious, it’s true. As I understand it, that’s because of you, Blake.”
“Well…” I said with a shrug. “I came up with a few tricks the last time they attacked us, that’s all. Anyone could have done that. You could have done it, Roog. I can tell you’re a smart one.”
That really seemed to please him. I got the feeling that praise was a rare thing to come across among the Kher. They were always shocked to hear it, especially from someone who wasn’t from their home planet.
“You humans are amazing,” he said. “I can’t fathom why so many hate you so much. You’re friendly and very discerning.”
“That we are, Roog. Now, could you tell me something I don’t know about the situation out here? I’m sure you’re aware of things no one else knows about.”
Roog slewed his bloodshot eyes from side to side, to see who was listening, I supposed. There were no drones, not even those insectile ones. He leaned close, and I reluctantly leaned my ear toward him.
“The Imperials aren’t here to do open battle,” he said. “They’re here to kill humans!”
That stung. I looked at him, and he showed open delight.
“You should be prideful beyond belief,” he told me. “Many primates think you should be promoted to the admiralty—possibly after the Imperials kill you, of course. The problem is just as many think you should be slain and handed over to the Imperials as a peace-offering. The debates rage!”
I cleared my throat uncomfortably, and my smile now required an effort of will to maintain.
“Is that so?” I asked. “Which camp is Fex from?”
“Him? He wants you off his station, naturally. Once Imperials learn there is a phase-ship here, and that a phase-ship drove off three carriers—well, they’ll suspect who is flying that filthy vessel. They will come here to find you.”
“Ah…” I said, trying to think. “And how would the Imperials get this information?”
Roog spread his long dark fingers broadly. “We sent it to them, of course. But after talking to you, I almost regret it. Your woman here will be hard to replace. Her skin is as pale as that of a worm, but she is so soft and smooth…”
Roog went back to pawing at Robin again, so I knew it was time to act. I stood up and walked out of the bar.
Robin stared after me in astonishment, and I left her there gaping among her three infatuated amigos.
Out in the hallway, I took several deep breaths, then I used my sym to connect to the local PA system. I paged through it, looking for something an officer could trigger locally without causing too much trouble.
There was a fire alarm system—unguarded, password-free. I engaged it and waited.
An odd, whooping noise began, and the floor in the bar changed colors. It was yellow inside now, and green outside in the passages. That was the signal the passages were safe and the bar itself was a danger.
The patrons reacted in a predictable fashion, scrambling out of the place. They piled over one another to get out, with Roog’s companions leading the way.
I waited to one side, my arms crossed. When Roog came out at last, he was half-carrying Robin, who was struggling to escape his iron grip. Exiting the bar, I gave him one chance. After all, he’d bought me a round of drinks.
But he blew it. Instead of setting Robin down and releasing her, he hoisted her up on his shoulder and moved to trot off with her.
My foot shot out, hooking his. He went sprawling, but he caught himself with one long arm. He turned just in time to see me bash him with a makeshift club. He rolled over and let out a long sigh, losing consciousness.
Robin picked herself up, and I took her hand. Together, we ran away from the phantom fire with the rest of them.
=26=
Robin and I retreated to Hammerhead. We didn’t trust any other private location aboard the station.
Robin wasn’t entirely grateful for my intervention.
“I was doing fine until you showed up,” she complained.
“Oh really? Are you sure Roog would have allowed you to get away from him?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said.
“That wasn’t what I saw in your eyes when he carried you out of the bar.”
She heaved a sigh. “Well… You blew my cover, anyway. That group will never trust us again.”
“Kher rarely trust one another,” I said. “And all these primates—they’re as bad as the predators say they are.”
“You included?” she asked as we arrived at the docking portals. “Are you just doing this for ulterior motives?”
I shrugged. “Gwen told me you might be in trouble, that’s all.”
“Hmm…” she said. “I guess I should thank you then. It’s the thought that counts.”
“What were you thinking, trying to pump a pack of apes in a bar for information on your own?”
“I’ve done worse,” she said.
“Maybe, but this isn’t Earth. You don’t have nice human cops to back you up. If you play here, you pay.”
“Okay Captain, warning received.”
“Just don’t assume these Kher are like us,” I said, pressing her. “They’re barbarians in the true sense of the word.”
“I said okay. Let’s forget about it. Tell me what you’re going to do about tomorrow’s trap.”
“You mean with Fex feeding us to the Imperials?” I asked. “I don’t know yet.”
I headed toward the bridge, and she followed me.
“Are you going to that sham meeting he set up tomorrow morning?” she asked.
“What choice do I have?”
“Can I come along?”
Frowning, I turned to face her. “Why would that make any sense? Do you think you can charm Fex out of his plan?”
“No, but I might be able to get him to reveal more information.”
Robin was one overconfident girl. She’d always been pretty fearless on Earth too, as long as no one was pointing a gun at her.
After I checked on the command situation, which was all-clear, I walked back down toward the mess hall. Robin was waiting for me.
“Haven’t you had enough?” I asked her.
“Of drink yes, but I need some dinner.”
We ate together, because the place was almost empty. The shift-change rush had come and gone an hour ago.
“Walk me back to my room?” she asked.
I hesitated, but only for a second. After all, she was an attractive girl, and somehow after rescuing her I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
We headed toward her quarters, which were on the lower deck near the labs with the other civilians. She had a private room—a rare thing even on this ship. There was a second bunk, but it was unoccupied at the moment.
“My hair smells like a monkey,” she said, and she stepped into a slide-away shower unit. There were group showers for most of the crew, but civvies got their own private units. Really, they occupied a circular section of the deck in between the two bunks.
I kept quiet, despite my surprise. She got naked in there, and the lighting revealed just about everything a man might want to see through a translucent curtain.
“I’d invite you in, but this is pretty tight,” she said.
“Too bad,” I said, “I could use a clean-up myself.”
The curtain cracked open. She looked at me with a playful smile. “Well, if I let the curtain hang open, the drains in the deck will catch it all anyway.”
That was it. I was a goner. She was naked, dripping wet, and smiling down at me as I sat on her bunk. I couldn’t say no, it just wasn’t in me.
We showered, standing in a tight embrace the entire time. Water went everywhere, and she laughed about that. Soap, water, skin—it was delightful.
After we were clean and there wasn’t even a hint of Roog’s stink on either one of us, we made love on her tight bunk. It wasn’t totally easy to do, but we managed it. Where there was a will, there was a way, my Grandma always used to say.
It had been a while for me, and we took our time. She seemed to be truly enjoying it. She didn’t ask me any probing questions, not once. That made me feel better. With this girl, you never knew what she really wanted.
Robin took my face in her hands when we were resting, and she looked at me seriously.
“You did save me,” she admitted. “I was an idiot to go in there without backup. Thanks.”
Her words and her soft touches made me feel even better.
* * *
The next morning I was awakened early.
I was back in my own bunk, and the ship’s klaxons went off without warning.
“All hands, report to your emergency stations,” Miller’s voice rang out. It rolled around the ship like the word of God.
“We have an active threat,” Miller continued. “All hands, report immediately to your emergency stations.”
Then, the ship lurched. The anti-grav switched on a second later, and I was floating.
“Dammit,” I complained, flipping around in a spiral pattern and I struggled to pull my uniform on. Fortunately, the cloth was intelligent enough to adjust to my struggling. My pants bloomed out in a spot where my foot was caught in a fold, and then gently squeezed back into its usual form when I had it on properly.
Flaps squirming to find each other, I raced hand-over-hand down the central passage toward the flight deck. Luckily, it wasn’t a long trip, as my cabin was placed quite close on purpose.
“Miller!” I shouted as I drifted onto the deck. “What’s going on?”
He glanced at me, then turned back to the screens. “We’ve got unknown contacts in the system, Captain.”
“How many, what configuration?” I demanded.
“Unknown. One rip appeared, and nothing came through—nothing we could detect. That’s why I sounded the alarm.”
I glanced over the docking tube display. We were indeed pulling up stakes and running.
“Did Admiral Fex sound the alarm?”
“No,” Miller said.
“Are all our personnel off the station?” I asked.
“I haven’t done a roster check. They were ordered to sleep on the ship. If they failed to follow orders, they’ve been left behind.”
I nodded. “You did the right thing. Dalton, swing us around and head away from the station. Miller, I’m relieving you and taking command. Man the phasing system.”
He glanced at me, then retreated to the station I’d ordered him to attend.
Dalton looked flummoxed. “Last I saw, Samson was still back that on that rock, chasing some kind of fuzzy tail.”
“That’s his problem,” I said. “We have a crew’s compliment large enough to man this ship. The ship has to come first.”
“What do you think is coming out of that rip, sir?” Dalton asked.
I looked at him. “Another phase-ship. An Imperial vessel, scouting this location. That’s why we didn’t see anything.”
“Why would they do that?”
“To look for us.”
That quieted him down. When we’d pulled away from the station, fielding many concerned calls from traffic control and our own abandoned crewmen, Miller drifted close to my command chair.
“Blake,” he said. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“I’ve gotten word that Fex is setting us up. He plans to send us on a wild goose chase into enemy space so the Imperials can capture us—or worse.”
Miller frowned at me thoughtfully. “But we haven’t even had our morning briefing with him yet.”
“Never trust a primate, Miller. If Fex discovered that we heard about his plans, well, maybe he stepped them up.”
Miller shook his head. “What a way to fight a war. If you can’t even trust your own side—how can you expect to win?”
“Oh, I trust them—but I verify every promise. I check up on every oddity, and I take action when something doesn’t smell right.”
“In other words, you don’t trust them at all. You only pretend to trust them.”
I didn’t bother answering. Miller was learning how to deal with the Rebel Kher, whether he wanted to or not.
=27=
Nothing ever did come through that breach into local space—at least, nothing we could detect.
In response, we disengaged from the station and slipped away, vanishing into phasing space.
“Phase system is on, and she’s running smoothly,” Miller said, shaking his head slowly. “You know, I hate Dr. Abrams, but I have to admit the guy is a genius.”
Privately, I had to agree. He was a class-A dick, but the fact he could design this ship and get so many of the components to operate was a marvel. His greatest accomplishment had to be the phasing system, as he hadn’t had a working model to copy for that element.
Admiral Fex contacted us soon after we’d left the station. He raved and demanded that we return to his meeting. He even threatened to demote me if I didn’t comply.
I steadfastly ignored every transmission. While phasing, we couldn’t break radio silence without giving away our position. I wasn’t about to do that now.
If Captain Ursahn had called for me, I might have answered. I respected her more than Fex. But she didn’t call. Her ship was as silent as Hammerhead.
Deep down, I thought Admiral Fex was angry because he’d never gotten moved up to the Secretary’s position. That had been his long term goal: to get out of the military and into politics. But instead, he’d been assigned here, to a lonely outpost, waiting for an enemy no one had thought would come back for a thousand years.
But the Imperials had returned. They’d come to ravage our frontier, and we had no idea how to deal with it.
After an hour, I decided the situation was stable enough to leave the bridge for a moment. I took that time to go below decks and visit Dr. Abrams.
He was working on his passive sensor array—or rather on the software we were using to interpolate the data we managed to absorb.
“Ah, Captain,” he said, “you must have heard of my requirements. What’s your answer?”
I blinked at him, blindsided. “Uh… I thought I’d come down and see the situation firsthand.”
“Excellent. I do hope your theoretical physics hasn’t all been forgotten.”
I assured him it had been, even though I could define the basics—barely. Like many scientists, he forgot how little the average man knew about such topics and blazed into a windy explanation. At length, I interrupted.
“So… you’re saying that you’re getting data through the phasing fields, but it’s warped? That your biggest problem now is converting confused readings into a solid picture?”
“Imprecise. Incomplete. In fact, if I may, you deserve a “C-” with that interpretation.”
“Just like your software, hey, Doc?”
His nostrils flared in irritation. “No need to get personal. My software is incomplete due to a lack of—”
“Doc, I’m just kidding,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll fix it in time. I have great faith in your technical abilities. Now, why don’t you show me what you do know?”
“That’s a broad request. We’ve gathered several terabytes of localized temperature variations alone. What data would you like to see?”
“Give me a close-up on that unexplained rip. What slipped through it?”
“We don’t know what it was,” he said, swiping through a dozen charts on his tables and walls. “But we do know what state it was in when it appeared. The object was moving at approximately thirty-two thousand miles a second, and it was in a fully-phased transitional state.”
“How do you know that?”
“While entering our local space, a phased object is made visible briefly by the inverse nature of its subfield.”
“Uh… what?”
He made a disgusted snort. “As I thought! You aren’t following at all! Why do I bother?”
“So our ship isn’t destroyed by an invisible attacker, that’s why,” I said angrily. “I’m tired of coddling you, Doc. Give me what you have. Make a visual. Do you have a projected course for this ship or not?”
“We don’t know it’s a ship,” he said petulantly.
“No, but we can assume it is, as that’s the only thing it could be if it came in phased, right?”
He shrugged. “I’ll admit there’s a strong correlation, nothing more.”
“Okay then, where is it going?”
He grumbled while he worked his boards and instruments. He complained about not having a skilled staff, and how he’d been saddled with mentally challenged officers like myself. At last, however, he managed to generate an image I understood.
“The object entered local space here, about six AU from the station. We spotted it due to the fact it wasn’t fluxing, like the background of the breach it was traveling through.”
At last, I began to understand what he was talking about. The ship was invisible, but he’d detected it by the fact it didn’t look exactly like the fluxing space around it.
“I think I get it,” I said. “It’s like an invisible man in a swimming pool, or in a fog bank. Even if he is transparent, we could see where he wasn’t.”
Abrams looked at me with wide eyes. “I’m astonished,” he said. “That’s not only accurate, it’s a relatable sequence of analogies. Well done, Blake.”
Despite myself, I felt prideful. He so rarely doled out any kind of praise that you felt in your heart you’d earned it when you got some.
“In any case,” he continued, “here’s the projected course you asked for. Now, keep in mind, this is imprecise. The timing was brief, and there are any number of factors that could make this inaccurate.”
I looked it over. The arc of the invisible ship’s path led it directly toward Fex’s station.
“But look, Doc,” I said. “It has to be right. It’s heading right for us.”
“Speculation,” he said. “It could have changed course the moment it was away from the flux that revealed it. Or—”
“Come on, Doc,” I said. “Use that big brain of yours. It’s headed toward us. It’s here to attack Hammerhead.”
“The actual physical size of my brain is irrelevant,” he began. “It’s a myth, a supposition from the past, that intelligence and—”
I waved him to silence, studying the data. Abrams had nailed it, despite his unwillingness to admit it.
There was only one clear conclusion to make: Fex had contacted the Imperials and told them when to show up. They were coming here to nail me—or at least my ship.
“What kind of game is this primate playing now?” I asked rhetorically.
“Tell me,” Abrams asked, “is Fex an ambitious fellow?”
“Extremely.”
“Well then, perhaps his designs go beyond merely doing his job.”
I looked at Abrams. “You mean he might be selling out entirely, not just to kill me? I hadn’t suspected he was a complete traitor…”
“Following your earlier logical leaps—your wild hypotheses and grasping at figurative straws —have you noticed that these forward forts have been bypassed by the enemy?”
“Of course. That’s what’s making this defensive effort so difficult.”
“Exactly so…” he said. “Further, if I may be so bold as to make guesses…?”
“Please do.”
“Well, has it occurred to you that the enemy should have stumbled upon one of these forts by now, if only by sheer coincidence? They were placed in cunning spots, places where the enemy was calculated to strike first.”
“Yeah… that’s right,” I had to admit. I was frowning now, looking over the star charts with fresh eyes. It was a strange situation. “They must know where the forts are. They must be avoiding them on purpose, with detailed intel to help them do so.”
“Agreed…” Abrams said. “That leads us to ask who might benefit from them being bypassed? And who might know where they all are?”
“Fex,” I said in a flat voice. I felt it was a certainty now, in my heart. “He’s fully collaborating with the enemy. He’s called them in.”
“Either Fex, or someone who works with Fex,” Abrams said. “But that’s all unproven. Smoke and mirrors. Pure conjecture.”
“No,” I said, “it’s more than that. It’s a logical hypothesis that explains what the hell is going on right now. Excuse me Doc, I’ve got some work to do. And thanks.”
He nodded primly and went back to his instruments. I left in a hurry, more worried than ever that I’d stumbled onto something big and dangerous.
=28=
On the bridge, I had to depose Miller again. Every time I left my post, even for a moment, he jumped into my chair.
Strictly speaking that was acceptable behavior. Someone had to be in command on the bridge at all times. Still, due to our history, it always felt like we were competing somehow. I hoped in time we’d both get more comfortable with our respective roles.
“We’ve got trouble,” I told him.
Using my sym, I contacted Abrams and requested that he send up the course projections he’d cooked up. He resisted briefly, talking about suppositions and acceptable statistical margins for error.
Ignoring him, I threw the charts up on the walls of the bridge. Everyone studied them, immediately enthralled.
“Place our current position on this projection,” I told Dr. Chang, who’d taken over as astronavigator at my request.
A faint green line appeared, arcing slightly toward the central star, with the battle station as the base point of origin. We’d moved perhaps fifty thousand miles from the station—about three inches on this scale.
“I’m projecting the unknown contact’s position using her last known speed and heading,” Dr. Chang said, updating the display.
Everyone gasped.
“It’s right on top of us!” Gwen gasped.
“Unlikely,” Dr. Chang said, making adjustments. “We have to assume they wouldn’t want to plunge directly toward the station. They’d want to decelerate and take their shot in close, at controllable speeds.”
“Agreed,” I said, “what’s a good rate of speed for an attack pass with our phase-ship?”
Miller spoke up, as I knew he would. “About a thousand miles an hour in variation between the target and the ship. That will ensure our fire-control systems have time to get a firm lock.”
“Okay. Chang, project them with an appropriate deceleration arc, matching our specs.”
Miller caught my eye. “Their fire-control system might be able to calculate a solution faster than ours can.”
I shrugged. “It’s the best guess we have.”
“I’ve got it…” Chang said, updating the image again.
This time, it was less alarming. We had about half an hour before the enemy ship would be in position.
“Here’s what we do,” I said. “First, we have to ask Ursahn to jam local transmissions around the battle station. Then we can position ourselves and wait for the enemy to appear.”
“Why would they come out of hiding if they can see that we’re not at the station?” Miller asked.
“I’m assuming that they won’t know that. They started pretty far out, and they’re moving in fast. But they can’t see clearly when they’re phasing, just like us. They’ll be operating on old data.”
The group looked tense, thinking it over.
“I’m open to suggestions, or anyone wanting to point out flaws. We never gamed out a fight like this. We were supposed to be the silent Hunters, not the prey.”
“Well…” Gwen said, speaking up next. “What if Fex decides to screw us openly and tell the Imperials we’re gone?”
We all looked at her in surprise. Some hadn’t gone that far in their thinking, while others like me hadn’t realized she’d figured out what was going on.
“If that happens,” I said slowly, “there’ll be a recording of the incident. I don’t think Fex wants to move so openly. I don’t think the Imperials promised to make him a baron or something.”
There was scattered laughter at the idea.
“The most he might do,” I continued, “is delay the station gunners when they spot the enemy. Maybe he’ll claim it’s another human ship or something, giving them just long enough to slip away again.”
“We just don’t know for sure,” Miller said.
“No. We have to guess. I’m for taking up our post and employing the plan I’ve just laid out.”
“Wait a minute,” Major Henderson said.
She’d just come onto the bridge, but I didn’t order Dalton to stand down. I let him keep the station. She looked at him awkwardly. I reminded myself that Dalton wore an ensign’s line now, while Henderson was still a silver button. As far as the Rebels were concerned, she was a junior recruit.
“Is there something you want to add to the conversation, Henderson?” I asked.
“Uh… yes. I was listening on the way up here.”
My eyes slid to Miller, then back to her. Had he quietly summoned her? I hadn’t ordered that. But if she was listening into our tactical discussion while rushing to get to the bridge, it had to be Miller who was relaying the audio.
Miller avoided my eye and looked directly at Henderson. His expression was wisely blank. I had to admit, he was learning fast.
“Well?” I prompted Henderson.
“What keeps Fex from making some kind of transmission to warn off the phase-ship—assuming it’s even out there?”
I smiled. “If you listened closely, my plan consisted of two steps. One of those steps was to get Ursahn to start jamming local space.”
There was no more argument after that. We contacted Ursahn in the clear. I kept the transmission short, as it would give away our position. We’d still be invisible, but there would be a solid frame of reference after this.
Before I made any transmissions, I slowed our vessel further. We were crawling then, almost stationary in space.
“Captain Ursahn,” I said, “I require your assistance. Please jam local radio transmissions on all frequencies.”
She considered my request on the vid screen after my message reached her.
“I don’t have any such orders from Admiral Fex.”
“No, you don’t. I’m making the request, one captain to the next. We’re commanding the only two warships in this system. I need your help.”
“Fex won’t like it.”
I smiled. “Maybe not—but at least you won’t have to listen to his complaints until this action is over with.”
Ursahn stared at me for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, her transmission cut out.
“The channel is broken, sir,” Gwen said. “I can’t get it back. There’s interference on all channels.”
“Surprising,” I said, “maybe it’s a natural phenomenon.”
There were a few chuckles from the command staff. We all went back to watching our screens. I ordered Dalton to steer us clear of our current position. We’d given away our position, and we’d best get away from that spot quickly.
Taking up a new position several thousand miles away, we turned our nose around, aimed it at the battle station, and waited.
The waiting was hard to do. Did the Imperials have the power to detect us? If they did, we were sitting ducks.
Was Fex somehow pinpointing our position? At least we couldn’t hear his complaints, which I’m sure were being beamed all over the star system.
The truth was, I didn’t have all the answers when it came to the Rebel Fleet or the Imperials. They had tech I knew about—and some things I didn’t.
Half an hour passed, and the Imperials remained hidden. The battle station was spinning slowly, but she launched no fighters or probes.
Then another hour passed—and two more after that.
Ursahn kept jamming, and she had a squadron of fighters on combat patrol, but otherwise she was waiting as motionlessly as the rest.
We sat quietly, with only the decks thrumming under our feet. The engines were kept hot, idling, but doing nothing more. We had no shields while phasing, and if they did find us, we’d be destroyed quickly.
“This is killing me,” Gwen said in a whisper.
“You don’t have to whisper,” I said. “Vibrations don’t travel through the vacuum of space.”
“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?” she said, then she closed her eyes and sighed. “Sorry Captain. I’m getting snappy.”
“That’s okay. Dalton looked like he wants to kill someone. That’s normal for him—but also it’s a sure sign that we’re all feeling tense.”
It was about fifteen minutes later that Samson, of all people, came up to me.
“So you did make it back aboard after all?” I asked him.
“Yes sir.” His face was twisted up in a confused frown, and he was staring at a tablet in his hands.
He was usually assigned to active defenses and support systems, so I respected his input.
“What is it, Ensign?” I asked him.
He perked up a little at my observation of his rank. He was proud of the silver thread-line on his shoulders.
“Something strange, sir,” he said.
“Don’t listen to him!” Dalton called out from the helm. “He’s gone and wet himself, that’s all.”
“Shut up!” Samson shouted back angrily.
“Just show me what you have, Ensign,” I said patiently.
“I was off-duty below, but I kept getting a funny reading. It’s not supposed to be this high of a number.”
He showed me his tablet. It was full of numbers, mostly green, some yellow, one orange. He tapped at the orange one. A real time trend-graph came up, showing a recent spike in the reading.
“You see this?” Sampson asked. “This is wrong. Our shields are reading like they’re on—but they aren’t on. We don’t have enough power to run shields and the phasing device at the same time.”
I stared at the data, then I looked up and around. The walls—they were all opaque. They were still displaying the course-prediction data that Abrams and Chang had worked up.
“Kill that graphic!” I shouted.
Chang lurched upright in his seat. He didn’t ask any questions. He reached for his console, and the graphic vanished.
The old fighter version of Hammerhead had been cannibalized, not just dissected and duplicated on a larger scale. One of the rare technologies we’d lifted intact and installed directly on this new bridge was the seemingly transparent walls of the fighter.
Only the bridge of this new, larger vessel had a transparent hull, but it was enough.
There, gliding not a mile off our flank, was another phase-ship. She was close enough to reach out and touch. Samson had been detecting shields all right—Imperial shields.
“Battle stations!” shouted Miller, hitting every alarm on his console.
The whole ship lit up, and people on every deck scrambled into position—if they hadn’t been sitting there already, waiting.
“No one fire!” I shouted. “No one touch those helm controls!”
Dalton’s hands sprang up into the air as if stung. At least he could follow an order properly when his life was on the line.
“They’re right there, Captain!” Samson said, his mouth hanging open in shock. “I can’t believe they’re so close. Why haven’t they fired at us yet?”
“Same reason we haven’t fired on them,” I said, “they’re studying their instruments, searching for us with computers instead of looking out their portholes. I don’t even know if an Imperial phase-ship has portholes, actually.”
“Captain,” Chang said, sounding as calm as everyone else did excited. “The odds of them finding us here are astronomical. They must, therefore, have a method of divining our location. I would suggest we take action quickly before they pinpoint our position.”
I nodded thoughtfully, looking at the sleek phase-ship. It was hard to order the battle to start when I didn’t know how it would end.
“Chang, how long until Killer could get a fighter out here to help?”
“Nine minutes.”
“Too long… One of us will be dead by then. Are we inside of the battle station’s range? For the main batteries, not the missiles.”
“We’re just outside that, sir.”
“Damn,” I complained. “Did you recommend this ground, Chang?”
“No,” Miller said, “I did. It wasn’t an error. It was a wise precaution. If Fex is truly working with the enemy, we can’t trust him. We can’t be spotted fighting next to his battle station. It would be too easy to make a minor error and blow up the wrong phase-ship.”
I stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Good job, Miller.”
Every Rebel Kher alive hated phase-ships. How hard would it be to convince a gunnery crew that blasting us both out of existence would be a good thing for the universe as a whole?
“Okay then. We’ll do this alone. Can we use chemical jets? To spin us around gently?”
“That will increase our visibility,” Miller said.
“We can already see them,” I pointed out. “If they look over here, they’ll see us.”
“Not necessarily. Our tech isn’t identical, ours is homegrown. Perhaps Abrams has improved upon their design—even though they obviously have better sensory equipment than we do.”
My head felt too full. I had to think clearly and make a fast decision.
At the back of my mind, I knew right then Earth should have put a Navy sub commander in this chair. The Air Force had bullied its way into the seat by standing on service history, but I was wishing I had a real Navy commander with me right then. His experience and tactical expertise would have been invaluable.
But new services were rarely born perfect. I had to deal with what I had.
Sucking in a deep breath, I looked at Miller. “Man the main gun and burn that bastard down.”
He gave me a tight smile. He knew I was giving him the honor of the kill.
Moving to his station, he sat and placed his hands on the console. The turret on the top of the ship began to travel, swinging to its maximum arc in order to target the enemy vessel.
That’s when they spotted us at last.
It was the motion of the turret. It had to be. We hadn’t known they could detect that. How could we have known?
The exact physics of the situation evaded me. At this distance, however, I knew we were at the threshold of being in the same “phased-space” as the other ship. Essentially, we were generating a field around us that warped space, and the other ship was doing the same. This made us semi-blind, as it did for them.
But when another vessel came close enough, it entered the field with the phasing-ship. It was partially in normal space and hyperspace at same time—just as we were.
The closer we came to one another, the closer we were to synching up and spotting one another.
When we began moving our primary turret, that tiny change, that ripple in the pond that was the space around us, was altered.
The Imperial detected it somehow. Maybe it had made us visible to them, as they were already to us. Or maybe, the motion itself had triggered some kind of detection system we had no inkling about.
Whatever the case, the Imperial ship came alive. She no longer glided serenely off to our port flank. She spun, and her own weaponry moved to lock onto us.
“Dalton—!” I shouted, but I got no further.
He was an experienced pilot. He’d been in a number of tight battles at the helm of a fighter. He wasn’t the sort of man to wait for orders when his own butt was on the line.
He’d already set us to spinning too, to coming around to get our gun in line before the enemy got his lined up.
All of space went white then. I’d never given the order. That was my last conscious thought.
And if I hadn’t given the order to fire, then who had fired? It could only be the enemy.
As I collapsed, my mind hummed oddly and somehow I felt the extra particles in my skull that had been shaken loose by a sudden bombardment of radiation. There was a taste of copper in the back of my mouth. Sudden, and intense.
Then, there was nothing at all.
=29=
Waking up slowly, my first thought was one of amazement.
I was still alive.
“Captain?” someone asked me, shaking my shoulder. “Captain, can you hear me?”
It was Abrams. That much I knew. I opened one eye, but it seemed swollen and there was blood running over my face. I tried the other one, and light flooded in, no blood.
Better.
“Doc?” I managed to croak.
“Ah… you’re alive. That’s a relief. We lost Henderson, and Mackel. I barely knew Mackel.”
He seemed to be rambling. I tried to lever myself up on one elbow, and I managed it after two tries.
“What hit us?”
I could see his face, it was red. That seemed odd. Was he flushing?
“I—I made a mistake. It was in the design. You have to understand, no one had ever fired a radiation weapon while phasing before. It just wasn’t practical to test back on Earth.”
Confused, I rolled over and got to a sitting position. “My joints hurt. I taste metal… That’s radiation poisoning, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m afraid so. Most of the bridge crew were hit. The rays were rather random. It was positional. If you were standing in such a way that there was a hull transparency between your body and the projector head, you got a dose.”
I heaved a painful sigh. I dug at my uniform, finding seared flesh over my ribs, down low on my left.
“I bet my liver is cooked,” I said. “How long do I have to live?”
Abrams thick eyebrows crunched together.
“What? How should I know? I’m an engineer.”
“There are mathematical formulae to determine such things, Doc,” I said. “Distance from source. Rads delivered. Length of exposure…”
“Oh—right. Don’t worry about that. You’ll survive, but it will be like having an extreme sunburn for a time, and you’ll suffer some confusion if your brain swells.”
“Is that right? Why will I survive this?”
“Your sym will regenerate the dying cells. The biomass in your bloodstream is distributed and radiation-resistant. It will regrow the patches of dead cells, rewrite most of the DNA that’s been damaged, and generally clean things up over time.”
“Engineering, huh?
I looked around. There were two bodies on the bridge, Henderson and Mackel. They’d both been forward, very close to the big front transparent parts of our hull. In fact, if I were to guess, I’d say Henderson had been standing between me and that forward projector…
“The hull-transparency effect,” Abrams explained. “The hull is thinner here to facilitate—”
“What about the Imperial phase-ship?” I demanded suddenly. “Where is it?”
“It was destroyed. I thought that was clear. Our weapon discharged first, and struck the enemy before they could line up their turret. At point-blank range, the enemy vessel was transformed into vapor and fragments instantaneously.”
Finally, at long last, I had a clear picture of what had happened.
“They didn’t hit us—we hit them? That means these burns are from our own weapon?”
“Yes, of course. We suffered reflective blow-back. We shouldn’t have fired with the bridge hull exposed. That’s what I’ve been saying. Are you feeling mentally disabled, Blake?”
I let his insults slide off me, only shaking my head slightly. “I’ll put your head in a microwave for a few minutes and then ask you what happened afterward.”
“That would be pointless and counterproductive,” he snapped.
I chuckled and groaned as I heaved myself up into a chair. He didn’t bother to help me. He rarely touched others.
“All right, Doc,” I said. “Your weapon did this, but why?”
“Normally, it would be safe to use. We experimented back on Earth. We built this ship based on the original Hammerhead, and we lifted her weaponry and shielding. The difference in this case was the addition of the phasing effect. Firing a high-radiation weapon while phased caused some of the energy released to scatter, striking through the hull in this localized region.”
“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.”
“Ral?” boomed Samson, making a cheerful clap with his big hands. “Why didn’t you say so, Captain? That’s great! Those little cat-girls are the best in the fleet. Dalton cries himself to sleep every night about having to leave them and go back to Earth.”
“Cat-girls?” Miller said, then he got it. He smirked at me, shaking his head. “Your girlfriend, the one in your reports… she came from that planet, didn’t she?”
I nodded noncommittally.
“I should have known,” he laughed. “You destroyed an Imperial ship, and you wangled some R&R. Damn! I was wrong to feel so tense about this meeting. My apologies, Blake. You really do know how to handle these fuzzies.”
Calling the Kher “fuzzies” was considered rude, but I didn’t correct him. After all, he and Samson had gleaned a completely wrong view of our situation.
I didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth.
=32=
Word got out soon enough…
We weren’t going to visit any pristine beaches or wild jungles, both of which were common on Ral from what I’d heard. We were going there instead to be sacrificed in a hopeless fight against an AI-driven warship.
Naturally, I didn’t present it that way to the crew. I explained we were an advanced force heading out to see what could be done to save the people of Ral.
Still, they were immediately concerned—even suspicious. They began to pepper me with questions about the exact details of our “mission” to Ral.
Evasion was my best defense. I claimed I didn’t know the exact situation. I referred them to past action reports, higher chains of command and anything else I could think of. Answers weren’t coming from me, but somewhere else. That was the central theme.
It worked, for the most part, but not everyone was convinced.
“This is bullshit, Leo,” Gwen said when she got me alone.
I’d already begun regretting making her my exec. Our close relationship of the past had left her tone overly personal now.
Heaving a sigh, I turned to her and made a decision.
“We have to talk, Gwen,” I said.
“We sure do. This mission is unreal. We can’t stop a Hunter! There’s no way.”
“That’s not the topic I was thinking of,” I said.
We were in my office, which doubled as a conference room off the main passage. We were only a few steps from the bridge, but it was enough privacy to allow open discussions.
“What then?” she asked, searching my face.
She’d always been good at figuring out what I was thinking. She was far better at reading people than I was. Was that because she cared more, or because her mind operated differently? I didn’t know, but the reality was undeniable.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah, I am. I don’t think you understand what an XO is supposed to do. That’s my fault—I shouldn’t have promoted an untrained person to the post.”
She frowned. “Untrained? I’m a veteran. This is my second campaign, my second interstellar war.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant... You haven’t had any formal officer’s training, and it shows every day.”
“But this isn’t Earth. We’re part of the Rebel Fleet, not the U. S. Navy.”
“I know, but many of the people aboard are from a more formal military—Earth’s military. For purposes of morale-building, I’m trying to shift our conduct to follow a more traditional model.”
“Well then,” she said, “that’s something you should at least inform your XO about, isn’t it?”
I blinked. Damn—she had a point there. I was on the verge of firing her, and I think she knew that. But she had found some wiggle-room. I’d never even given her the chance to improve.
My own skills as a captain aboard a ship like this were weak as well, I had to admit. I knew a lot about space battles—possibly more than any human alive—but I didn’t know beans about running a ship and her crew.
“All right,” I said. “You’re still the XO. But you can’t call me Leo in front of anyone else. It’s captain, or sir. No more arguments, either. You can request a private word, or you can ask to make a suggestion. That’s it.”
Her face tightened, but she nodded. “All right. I’ll do it. I’ll sound just like Miller.”
“You don’t have to go that far.”
We both smiled, and we went back to the bridge. Miller looked at us both expectantly, but we said nothing to him. Turning back to his instruments, he shook his head slowly.
Did that mean he thought we’d been making out in there? Well, if so, he could screw himself. Sucking in a deep breath, I called out to him next.
“Miller? I’d like a private word, please.”
He walked after me into the conference room. Everyone on the bridge watched us go. They were all wondering what was going on, but I didn’t care.
“What’s this about, Blake?” he asked when the door was closed.
“Just that—right there,” I said. “You didn’t call me captain. As far as I can recall, you never have.”
He shrugged, but he didn’t deny it.
“You didn’t refer to me as ‘sir’ either, or anything else that would indicate you accept me as your superior officer.”
He still didn’t say anything.
“This has to change, Miller,” I said. “It’s bad for morale. I need you on my bridge as a functional member of this team. I don’t need obstruction and an obvious lack of respect.”
“Hold on,” he said, coming to life at last. “I’ve never obstructed your command. I’ve never countermanded an order, or argued with you in public.”
“But do you accept my authority?” I demanded. “The crew can sense that you don’t. We’ve already lost several people—and we’re probably going to lose more. I don’t want to lead people into battle who don’t even believe in me.”
“What are you proposing?” he asked.
“That you shape up. That you turn things around and start to treat me like I belong on this bridge. That you get over the loss of two friends, and your personal loss of command.”
“Is that all?” he asked in an amused tone.
“No,” I said. “If you can’t make these changes, I’m removing you from bridge duty immediately. Make your choice, Miller.”
He frowned. “You’d be crazy to do that. You need me—the ship needs me. I’m one of the few trained experts you have aboard.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m asking for a change, rather than just reassigning you out of hand. If you can pull it together and stop moping, we’ll all have a better chance of surviving.”
He was quiet for a second before speaking. “This is the kind of talk you just gave Gwen, isn’t it? You brought her in here to kick her in the butt.”
“That’s right. She promised to make changes. What are you going to do?”
“You’d really remove me? Even as we’re flying into enemy territory?”
“If I must.”
“An ultimatum…” he said thoughtfully. “Well, I have to admit, I didn’t think you had the balls, Blake. But you clearly do…” he faltered and studied the deck.
I didn’t speak, I just kept staring at him and waiting for his answer.
“All right,” he said at last. “I’ll admit, I’ve been less than fully accepting of the current arrangement. In the meantime, you’ve surprised me with your competence. I’ve seen you in action, and you’ve demonstrated a natural ability to command a starship in battle.”
“But you still think you could do better?” I asked him.
“Yes, possibly, but I can’t call you incompetent. I’ll reform my behavior.”
“Good!” I said, shooting out my hand. “I’m glad we got this nonsense behind us.”
Slowly, he lifted his to grasp mine. I pumped my arm hard, and he was rocked on his feet. Despite the fact he’d been given a sym, it hadn’t altered his musculature much yet. It hadn’t had time to harden up his grip.
Grinning hugely, I nodded and welcomed him onto my team all over again. He gave me a flickering smile in return.
“Will I be the XO again?” he asked.
“Not today. Gwen claims she can do better, and I owe her a chance to show me. We’ll see who earns their ranks. In the meantime, I’m moving you up to Ensign first class. Look at your lapels.”
He did, and his eyes widened. There were now two golden lines on his shoulders.
“You can do that?” he asked. “Any time you want to?”
“My sym can alter your rank, yes, because I’m two ranks higher than you and in your direct chain of command. I submitted status point awards for everyone based on performance after our recent battle. You’ve earned advancement, and it suits your level of experience.”
“But who has approval over you?”
“Shaw, Ursahn, and Admiral Fex—in that order.
“Interesting…” he said. “So many things about this military are streamlined. Most Earthly navies would require many steps to achieve rank in the field.”
“We aren’t in an Earthly navy, Miller.”
“So you keep saying. Is there anything else, Captain?”
“No, dismissed.”
He walked out, and I followed. I felt better about my command staff, and I hoped they’d follow up on their promises over the coming days.
We had a lot of grim challenges ahead of us.
=33=
Ursahn didn’t drag her feet. She prepared to make the jump to the Ral system less than twelve hours after Fex had given us our suicidal assignment.
“Captain?” I asked her via my sym as her ship began to form the rip in space-time. We were right behind Killer, trailing in her wake. “Should we be phasing when we arrive?”
She answered with her typical fatalism. Ever since we’d been given this task, she seemed to have lost hope.
“Blake, you must choose your own approach to death. Shall you gently nuzzle her? Or rage and fight? It matters only to you and your crew.”
Her answer didn’t please me. I knew that many of the Rebel Kher had a death-wish of sorts. They often came from worlds that had been destroyed by the Imperials, and they didn’t much care if they lived or died.
But they usually had a strong sense of honor and duty. They did things because that’s how they were supposed to be done. Their goal was to make their mark in time and space, as best they could.
Being destroyed for sport like animals in a wilderness had brought on this attitude among the Rebels, in my opinion. It bordered on defeatism in my book, and I couldn’t let it go.
“Listen, Ursahn,” I said to her, “I find your tactics unacceptably vague. I will therefore offer some of my own. First, after you open the breach, I suggest you don’t go through it. Allow me to cross through and scout. I’ll return before the rift closes.”
She didn’t answer immediately, and the rift formed. It quickly grew to fill our visual field.
“That does not comply with our orders,” she said at last.
“Yes it does!” I insisted. “We’ve been told to do the impossible, but there were no instructions as to how to carry that order out.”
“No, because it’s hopeless.”
“Then let me have my way. It is in accordance with my honor and duty to Earth.”
That stopped her.
“Captain?” Chang said in surprise. “Killer is veering off. She’s not going into the rift.”
“He’s right, sir,” Dalton said. “What should I do?”
“Go through. Miller, hit the phasing system.”
Ursahn called again as we passed from this system into the next. “Good travels. If you don’t return before the rift closes, I will create another and march through it to join you in the afterlife.”
That was all she said, but it was enough. She hadn’t privately transmitted her final farewell, but instead had broadcast it. The audio and her drooping, somber presence appeared on every screen aboard my ship.
Gwen spun around in her seat and stared at me with wide eyes.
“She’s sent us to die?”
“No,” I said. “She’s just a little fatalistic. She talks like that all the time. You remember, don’t you XO?”
She looked stunned for a second, then nodded. “Of course.”
“We’re entering the rift, sir,” Dalton said.
I welcomed the distraction. The ship shivered and we left normal space. Reality as everyone knew it ceased, and a new reality began.
The transition was brief, but memorable. Hammerhead shook and creaked audibly.
When we broke through on the far side, we were already phased-out.
“Sensors, what have we got?” I demanded.
“Data is coming in now, Captain,” Chang said. “But it’s a little slow.”
We waited tensely until we had a sketchy layout of the Ral system at last. It matched our databanks, but several worlds on the outskirts of the system were missing. Icy chunks that passed for planets, and even a small, gassy giant—they were all gone.
“Where did the mass go?” Miller asked, studying the data. “Captain, this is odd. The system is actually missing mass.”
“Explain,” I said. I felt good that he was calling me “captain” at last, but somehow I couldn’t get too happy about it under the current circumstances.
“Normally,” Chang jumped in, “mass is transformed from one form or location to another. A ship might become scrap, for instance, or even be vaporized by a strong enough strike. But the total mass is virtually the same, whether a body is a solid, liquid or gaseous.”
“Yeah…” I said, “so this thing doesn’t just destroy worlds, it consumes them.”
“There are rings of asteroids and debris in each planet’s orbit—but some of the mass is still missing.”
“Have you spotted the Hunter yet?” I asked.
They soon managed to locate the enemy. It was chewing on the fourth world in the system, counting from the outside inward—to the sun. The fourth world was a rocky planet, something like Mars back home.
“It’s hard to spot while we’re phasing,” Miller said, “because it looks like it’s merged with the target world.”
“I see…” I studied the sketchy graphics that were coming in from our sensors and Abrams lab analysis software. “The planet does look misshapen. This divot here, with the lump in the middle of it?”
“That’s a surface crater the size of Antarctica,” Miller said, sounding impressed. “It’s in there, chewing on it.”
I looked at him, grasping the scale of the enemy. “The Hunter is that big?”
“Captain,” Chang said. “I’ve got some estimates coming in. Fex hadn’t shared much data with us previously.”
“Give me your best guess.”
“The target Hunter is approximately one hundred sixty miles long. It’s ovoid in shape, with several tube-like extensions. These appear to break down the victim mass and remove it from local space.”
My crew fell silent. We’d never faced anything like this before.
“Theories,” I said, “what’s it doing with all that mass?”
“Some of it is probably being digested to energize and rebuild damaged sub-systems,” Chang suggested.
“It’s feeding,” Gwen said. “Like a parasite. Burrowing and digesting whole worlds. An automated mining system gone mad.”
“Reminds me of a giant tick,” Samson offered. “A parasite. We have to destroy it, Captain. Imagine one of these things reaching Earth.”
It was a terrifying thought. I returned to my command chair, and I contacted Abrams for his opinion.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked. “It’s amazing. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect, in a way.”
“So you want to marry this thing, is that it, Doc?” I demanded. “Give me something I can use.”
“Come out of phasing for a minute or two. I need better data.”
After hesitating a few seconds, I gave the order.
Miller looked at me like I was crazy, but he didn’t object openly.
“Phasing system shutting down, Captain,” he said.
We all watched the screen, and the rift behind us. We weren’t moving fast, so we knew we could turn around and run if we had to.
The planet-killer didn’t react right away. That wasn’t surprising, as we were several light-minutes away. It would take time for our visual presence to be detected—assuming it would take notice of us at all.
“How much time have I got on the rift, Chang?”
“Another nine minutes. Ursahn must be boosting it to keep it open.”
“Keep an eye on it,” I ordered.
Abrams sucked up data and computer time on the main data core in enormous portions. I watched him, but I let him do it. This was our big chance, and I didn’t want to waste it.
“The Hunter is doing something, Captain,” Miller warned.
I looked up, and I was immediately startled. “Is it breaking apart?” I asked.
“No…” Chang said. “Those protrusions must be smaller ships—or very large missiles. They’re leaving the victim world’s thin atmosphere now… They’re in space, achieving escape velocity and beyond.”
It wasn’t hard to plot the course of these objects as they left the Hunter. It soon became obvious the enemy had seen us and launched several objects toward us. Whatever they were, I was certain they weren’t friendly.
“Should I engage the phasing system, sir?” Miller asked.
“No,” I said. “We’ll keep pinging away at it, feeding Abrams everything we can. Dalton, turn us around and creep toward the rift. At the seven-minute mark, hit the gas and get us out of here.”
Dalton seemed both relieved and concerned at my orders. We came about sharply and retreated. I watched the rift growing in my forward view.
Using my sym’s perception and interpretation systems, I reached out to zoom toward the big Hunter.
Up close, it was even more startling than it looked from a distance. Stony soil, lakes, a greenish-gray slime of life—they’d all slid down into that crater it had dug.
A maelstrom of dust, feathery clouds and smoke swirled around the monster as it fed. Up close, it looked more like a spiny crab to me than anything else. It didn’t have legs—not exactly, but it had rows of churning arms around its circumference, which dug into the crust of the planet and tore the heart from the land.
The spines on top were wicked. I realized as I studied them they’d been the things it had fired at us. They were huge, like lances of metal longer than any building ever built in Earth’s history. Even as I watched, new spines were slowly extruding from the central mass. It was growing replacement spines.
I shivered slightly, unable to control my visceral reaction.
How could we hope to face such a nightmare? It seemed hopeless, and I found myself empathizing a bit with the morose attitude Ursahn had adopted over recent days.
=34=
We entered the womb-like embrace of the rift, and upon doing so, I felt a sense of well-being.
We’d escaped the monstrosity that was consuming worlds behind us—at least for now.
“We’re back, Captain,” Miller prompted me.
I woke up from my reverie, looking around. Eyes were expectantly glancing at me. They wanted orders.
“Dalton, all-ahead slow. Take us up to Killer and hug her like mama.”
“On it, sir.”
We glided away from the rift. I’d expected Ursahn to contact me and demand a report—but she didn’t. Maybe that was because she knew what I’d seen out there.
I requested a personal audience with Ursahn, and she granted it. We moved in closer to dock with Killer.
“Sir,” Gwen said, working the communications boards. “You’ve got a channel incoming from Admiral Fex. He wants to talk to you.”
“All right. Transfer him to my sym. I’ll talk while I’m heading to my meeting with Ursahn. XO, you have the watch. Miller, Samson, come with me.”
They knew they were bodyguards, but neither of them complained.
Gwen took my chair and guided the team through the docking process.
Because I couldn’t put it off any longer, I opened the channel with Fex.
“Good afternoon, Admiral,” I said brightly. “What can I—?”
“Treason!” he barked. “Not just insubordination. No, no, no. This goes far beyond that. What are you doing in my system? Why have you not set off on your assigned mission? I demand to hear your cowardly excuses. They’ll warm my ears.”
“And there’s plenty there to warm, sir,” I said, thinking of Fex’s oversized, conical ears. “We’re engaged in the first step in our mission. If you could excuse Ursahn and I, we have an urgent planning mission to—”
“No!” he snapped. “I’ll not excuse you for anything. I’m moving legally against the both of you—for dereliction of duty. You have one hour. After that, I’m going to execute a warrant for treason, as it will be duly logged.”
I frowned, not liking the sound of this. My usual bullshit wasn’t working today.
“Admiral Fex,” I said, “I’ve already scouted the enemy, and I returned with a detailed report on the target in the Ral system. I’ll download that for your consideration. The automated Hunter is quite impressive.”
He cackled. “I know what a Hunter looks like, you fool. The timer is running, Blake. You’ve got your orders, and I’m within my rights to take action if you don’t engage the enemy. Consider this to be your second warning. Fex out.”
My mouth was dry as I climbed into a docking tube and crossed over to Killer. This time, I’d opted to dispense with a shuttle pilot. I didn’t have a lot of time for another incident with “Gref” or one of his relatives.
Stepping off with my two companions when we reached Killer’s end of the chute, I was the first one to be ejected into the receiving room.
I stumbled, having a bad landing. My helmet starred. For a brief moment, I thought I’d struck something with it.
But then I realized that something had struck me, not the other way around.
Crewmen encircled me. I would have been knocked out already if I hadn’t been wearing a sealed vacuum suit.
Among the group were two that looked like Grefs, and one that looked like a Terrapinian. I didn’t have much time to react before two more clubs cracked into my back and another landed on my kneecap, knocking me flat.
Fortunately, Miller and Samson came through the chute a moment later. Say what you want about Miller’s loyalty, he could hold his own in a fight. He began jabbing at eyes, elbowing guts and genitals, and doing it all with cold efficiency.
Samson’s fighting style was the polar opposite of Miller’s. He was as hot-tempered as Miller was cold. He laid into the group, roaring and punching them with his limbs in a blur.
From the deck, I was surrounded by struggling forms. I could see more coming in, too. They were talking to a screen on the wall, and the image of Fex was unmistakable.
I even caught a snatch of dialog. “I authorize this breach. This is a special exercise. All of you will be awarded double-points, and rank restrictions are rescinded!”
There was more, as he egged on a half-dozen burly combatants, urging them to beat us down.
The plan was clear, and it seemed almost foolproof—put us down and blast our ship when the hour was up.
I tried my sidearm, but it had been disabled. Every captain decided when such weapons were active aboard ship. That was intended to prevent conflicts like this one from escalating into a deadly melee—but it was having the opposite effect now.
“Captain Ursahn!” I called using my sym. “We need help in docking chute eight! Your crewmen are attacking us!”
“I’m well aware of the situation. It is an approved exercise.”
“Approved by Admiral Fex, not you!” I said. “It’s illegal.”
“Admiral Fex outranks me. This star system is under his command, and therefore I’m under his command while I’m here.”
“But he’s rescinded the rank restrictions!” I called out, desperate. “I’m being attacked by recruits!”
Miller was down on his knees. Two combatants were beating him enthusiastically, while a third lay sprawled underneath.
Samson wasn’t doing much better. He’d put down two of them through sheer cussedness, but his suit was torn, his helmet was off, and there was blood everywhere. He had the look of a cornered berserker in the middle of his last stand.
“Can you confirm this violation?” Ursahn asked me with maddening calm.
“I confirm it!” I shouted.
Even as I spoke, I jabbed with a fallen metal club, striking a Gref unfairly. He barked in pain and beat my shoulder with flailing limbs.
I almost went down, and as I did so, with my ears ringing, I heard Ursahn say something.
“Say again?”
“Your weapons have been activated. Fex has no jurisdiction to rescind rank-on-rank dueling restrictions on my vessel. If you require—”
She kept talking, but I didn’t listen to anything else she said. I clawed out my disruptor, pushed it up into the guts of my assailant, and burned a hole through him.
I killed him. Right then and there.
No, it wasn’t fair, but I didn’t think I had any choice. It was either this ship had one less Gref aboard, or both Killer and Hammerhead were going to be blasted to pieces with all hands lost.
The rest of them didn’t get it right away. They surged forward into the cramped chute of the receiving room. It was padded and dimly lit. Samson went down, knocked out on his feet.
But fortunately, I didn’t have to kill anyone else. I stung their feet and legs, mostly, burning holes in them to give them a deterrent they wouldn’t soon forget.
With their cells blown apart from the inside, which caused searing pain and horrific blistering, they soon retreated in a humping, staggering mass.
As quickly as they’d come, they retreated, cursing and lamenting their wounds—except for the one dead Gref, of course.
“Are you in need of emergency assistance?” Ursahn asked.
I looked around at my fallen officers. They were both breathing.
“Nah,” I said. “Just send us down some of that healing salve. We’ll be fine.”
=35=
We didn’t have much time to recover, so we were still pretty banged up when we dragged ourselves to Ursahn’s office on the command deck.
The best part about that arduous journey was the looks we got from other spacers and fighter crews.
“Look at ‘em,” Samson sneered. His words were slightly garbled by his swollen lips. “They’re steering well-clear of us. Word has gotten around fast. The humans weren’t to be fucked with today!”
“You think they know you killed a Gref?” Miller asked me.
“Yeah, probably. That kind of news travels fast on a ship.”
We got into the lift without being assaulted again, and I breathed a little easier.
Miller looked at me. His expression was an odd one, and not just because one eye was a purple lump of flesh.
“Did you know that was going to happen?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It stood to reason. But I didn’t have time to worry about specifics.”
“That’s why you brought us along, isn’t it? You knew they’d be waiting for us.”
My lips twisted, and I looked disinterested. It was best to play this off as all-business.
“There are often small attacks among the Kher,” I said, “but this one was unusual. Fex really unleashed his dogs on us this time—a clear breach of etiquette.”
“How so?” Miller asked, honestly curious.
“Glad to see you’re taking an interest in Kher culture.”
“I hardly have a choice. We’re living in their midst.”
I pointed a finger at him. “Exactly. Humans are rare in the universe, extremely rare once you get out here into space. We have to know everything we can to survive—but we can’t look cautious and weak.”
“They’re like dogs,” Samson said. He sounded like he was only half-tracking our conversation. “Think about it, sir. Dogs! If you run from a barking dog, he chases you. If you charge one—he might back off.”
“That’s right,” I said. “So Miller, try to look mean.”
“Am I doing it wrong?” he asked.
“Yeah… Straighten your back. Ignore the pain. Walk smoothly, don’t limp.”
“But… But we’re going up to the command deck. Surely—”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. The rules are shifting under out feet. Fex might try again. A legal duel, officer-on-officer, could have been arranged for rank. That sort of thing isn’t unusual among the Rebel Kher.”
The lift stopped moving and let us off. Miller was alarmed. He came out of the doors last, looking everywhere at once.
There were some of Ursahn’s guardians waiting for us as we stepped off the lift, but they didn’t do anything. We walked past them as nonchalantly as we could.
Ursahn wasn’t in her conference room, however. She was on Killer’s bridge instead. We were summoned there and met her on the deck.
The carrier’s bridge was impressive. I’d only been up here a few times before. The projection technology was far ahead of the earthly sub-systems and displays we had aboard Hammerhead.
Ursahn greeted us with a touch. She brushed each of our knuckles with her own. I hadn’t seen that gesture before, but I went along with it.
“Welcome, humans. You have been wronged today. I have prevented another attack, right here on my command deck.”
I looked around her crewmen, and they stared back with hard eyes. No one spoke, smiled, or even nodded.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter. Offers were made. They were illegitimate, and I was able to convince those who pondered accepting them of that fact.”
I turned back to Ursahn and smiled at her. “Thanks, Captain. What’s our next move?”
“Move? You mean when do we depart? Almost immediately. Are you ready?”
Hesitating, I looked around the group of listening officers. There were several commanders and lieutenants within earshot. I’d planned to discuss my idea with Ursahn privately, behind closed doors.
But I could see now that it wasn’t going to happen. Ursahn had stepped in, going up against Fex. She’d declared an offer Fex had made for rank illegal. That took some serious guts. It put her own command status in jeopardy. If any members of her bridge crew were feeling ambitious, this would be a perfect moment for them to strike her down—then us afterward.
Putting two-and-two together, I figured she didn’t want to meet privately because her own crew might form up an opposing force against her if she left the bridge for a second.
“You stuck your neck out for me,” I said. “I appreciate that. May I address your command staff?”
She blinked at me in surprise. “Here? Now?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Do so with my blessing.”
I turned toward the officer team, who all listened closely while pretending not to.
“Fex has given us all a Devil’s choice,” I said loudly. “It’s all a matter of choosing how we die. Should we go through the rift to Ral and die there, fighting a ship the size of a large moon? Or, should we wait here sniveling until he guns us down for insubordination?”
No one answered me. I got the impression that neither of the options I’d outlined was popular.
My right fist slammed a console, and the projections above it danced.
“Right you are!” I boomed. “He can’t order us to die for nothing! He can’t kill us for disobeying an illegal order, either!”
Ursahn spoke up. “Actually, his primary cannons can take down our shields at this range rather quickly. Our complement of fighters wouldn’t even be able to reach the station before—”
I held up my hand, shaking my head.
“No, no,” I said, “you misunderstand the nature of my proposition.”
“I wasn’t aware you were making a proposition.”
“Well, I am. We should select a third option. One Fex isn’t banking on.”
“Why would he ‘bank’ on an unproven—?”
“It’s an idiom—my apologies,” I said quickly. Time was running out to convince these people we had to take radical action. “What I’m suggesting is we defeat the automated Hunter through tactics and maneuver, rather than direct attack.”
Ursahn looked confused. “That is a vague and disappointing statement.”
“The trick is—” I said aloud, then immediately regretted it. These people didn’t like the idea of “tricks” being played on anyone.
They swayed from side to side and looked worried.
“What I mean to say is that we should leave this system, but we shouldn’t go straight to Ral. We should go to another nearby, neutral star system.”
“What possible purpose can such an action serve?” Ursahn asked.
“Well, for one thing, we won’t die immediately.”
Ursahn gave me a hard look. “I had not counted you as a coward, but I’m beginning to suspect—”
“Hold on, listen further. There are Imperial ships operating in this stellar neighborhood, aren’t there? We’ve met and fought with some of them on the way here.”
“Yes…”
“So, as I understand it, the AI-driven Hunter isn’t supposed to be entirely independent. It might have a remote crew of operators. If we can find this crew in the area, we can force them to call off the Hunter.”
She looked at me like she was studying a bug. A stink-bug, maybe, or something similarly nasty.
“This doesn’t sound honorable,” she said.
“It’s extremely honorable,” I argued. “In fact, it’s the only way we’re going to accomplish this mission. We can’t fight that thing directly—you know that. But what we can do is find its operators and convince them to retreat. That way, we’ll be following our orders without dying.”
“But that isn’t what the admiral ordered us to do.”
“Ah!” I said, walking toward the consoles and laying my hands on them. “Are you sure about that? Maybe it’s exactly what he had in mind. He ordered us to do the impossible—at least, that’s what I thought at first. But apes are clever, and I had to think more deeply on it. There had to be a way to achieve the goals he laid out, or the order would be invalid.”
Pulling up several recordings, I played them for the bridge crew. I now thought it was a good thing they were all present. I was going to have to convince them all, and seeing as we only had about seventeen minutes left to take action, I didn’t have time to present my case to each of Ursahn’s people separately.
Ursahn and her crew pondered my idea as I replayed Fex’s words several times. He repeatedly instructed us to go to the Ral system and save it. In every case, the exact methods we were to employ were left out.
Ursahn nodded her big head at last. “All right. I will contact Fex and inform him that we’ve puzzled out his mad orders. Then—”
My hand closed over her larger arm, and I pulled her back as she reached for her console.
She whirled on me, eyes blazing. “You dare to make physical contact while I’m in command on my own bridge?” she demanded.
“Sorry,” I said, “but we don’t have time to confirm anything with Fex. We know he’s hostile to us. If we tell him we’ve figured out his orders, he’ll just come up with another seemingly impossible set of instructions.”
She stared at me for a full two seconds. Then she slowly nodded and sighed.
“I truly hate primates,” she said. “Even you are irritating for being able to think in this convoluted fashion.”
“On behalf of my entire branch of the Kher family tree, I apologize.”
“Very well. We will make a rift to a star near Ral. I hope honor can be served—but I doubt there is time to find the Imperial operators before we’ve failed in our mission.”
“You mean before the Hunter reaches Ral? You let me worry about that. We’ll make it with time to spare. In the meantime, I’ve got to return to my ship.”
Without wasting any more time, I led my battered sidekicks back to the docking chambers. With six minutes to spare, we reached Hammerhead’s bridge.
“Phase us out, Miller!” I ordered. “Dalton, the second we vanish, maneuver sharply at a random angle—but don’t line us up with Killer’s hull.”
They looked baffled, but they did as I’d ordered. A moment later, we were a ghost in this universe.
“Any incoming fire from the battle station?” I asked.
“No sir, but Ursahn has opened the rift and she’s approaching it.”
“Follow her through,” I said. “Stay right on her tail.”
They did as I asked, and we watched as the rift grew to enormous proportions, dwarfing our view of space.
At last Ursahn’s ship vanished, and we followed her moments later.
=36=
We found ourselves circling what had to be the least interesting star system I’d ever seen. It contained a brown dwarf—a star so dim and cool it was the size of a dozen Jupiters crunched together—and some dust and rocks. There were no planets, nothing really of interest.
“What are we doing here, Captain?” Miller asked immediately, studying the scopes.
I sighed. “I don’t know, but Ursahn is quite literal. She’s probably taken us to the star system that is the closest to Ral.”
“But there’s nothing here of consequence.”
“Right—Gwen, contact Abrams. He needs to start doing a scan and identifying promising targets.”
“He wants you to go down to his labs and discuss it, sir. Also, Ursahn wants to know what Fex intended our next move to be…?”
Dalton gave a dirty laugh. “Sounds like we’ve been doing a little fast-talking! Is that it, Captain?”
I glanced at him, but I didn’t answer. My skull still hurt from my recent adventures aboard Killer.
“Samson, get to Medical. You look like hell. You too, Miller. Gwen, you have the watch again.”
“Yes sir,” she said.
As I headed below to meet up with Abrams, Miller caught up with me.
“That was all bullshit, right?” he asked me.
“Which part?”
“Back there with Ursahn. When are we going to shake the Rebels and head back to Earth?”
I stared at him. “We’re not. We’re going to find the Imperial controllers who are pulling that Hunter’s strings, and we’re going to cut the line between them.”
Miller looked aghast. “Blake, you do know how big space is—right? We have no idea how far away the Imperial ships are. Hell, they could be sitting in hiding inside the Ral system, laughing and toasting one another. Or, they could be anywhere else along the Orion Front.”
“What’s your point?”
“We’ve escaped Fex—that was brilliant, by the way. But, we’re still saddled with Ursahn. If we can figure out a way to get her to take us somewhere sane…”
I shook my head. “We’re going to save Ral, Miller. Don’t go getting any wild ideas.”
He snorted. “Look who’s talking.”
“I thought we had a mutual respect building.”
“We do. But no one is listening now, and we’re talking about the death of everyone aboard this vessel. I feel justified in speaking openly one-on-one.”
“All right. You’ve said your piece. I’m going to talk to Abrams. We’ll come up with a plan. We’ve only got about five standard days to figure this out, anyway.”
I left him and found Abrams. He wasn’t in his primary lab, he’d staked out a workstation in the forward observatory instead.
The room was dark, with stars hanging outside the viewports. The brown dwarf glimmered and wavered. It was a variable star, with uneven output and a constant parade of sunspots in evidence.
“You can almost look at it with the naked eye,” Abrams marveled. “Have you come to join me in marveling at the universe?”
“No,” I said. “I need your brain. Where do you think the Imperial operating crew is?”
“You mean for the Hunter, correct? An interesting question… unknowable, but possibly deducible.”
“Let’s start deducing then.”
“All right. Where’s the most obvious spot?”
I thought about that, and considered what Miller had said. “They could be quietly sitting in the Ral system somewhere, watching the show.”
“Very good!” he said. “I didn’t think you’d get that one—but it’s obvious they aren’t there.”
“Why?”
He threw up one skinny finger between us. “Because, if they were, the Hunter would have headed directly toward Ral. Why direct your Hunter to fool with the outer planets when a juicy inhabited world is only a few AU distant?”
“We don’t know much about the Hunter’s programming, but I’m willing to give you that one. So, they aren’t in the system, or they’d be directing it more intelligently…”
“Exactly. It’s following its basic, methodical programming routine. I’d say it might not even be all that smart.”
“Where does that leave us?” I asked.
He threw up his hands and gestured toward the forward view ports. “Out here. We’ve been left with the task of searching all of space instead of the Ral system. We’ve crossed off two systems so far—a solid beginning. But unfortunately, infinity minus two is still infinity.”
“I’m beginning to regret coming down here,” I said. “Why don’t we begin with a pattern of concentric rings, jumping from star to star and moving outward one lightyear at a time.”
“I’ve done the numbers on that. Want to see them?”
He swiped at his tablet, and mine dinged. I looked over his data.
“Thirty nine systems…” I said thoughtfully. “Forty one in all. That’s what you think we can cover?”
“It’s conjecture, but achievable. I’ve calculated time for rifts to be generated, and a projected average search time. We’d only have about two hours to scan each system—crude guesswork, but I’m gifted when it comes to such things.”
I studied his data then set it aside. “Not good enough,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Your algorithm sucks,” I said. “It’s brainless. Besides, infinity minus forty-one is still infinity. Let’s come up with a smarter game plan.”
“Time is wasting…” he said, sipping a beverage. “Soon, we’ll be reduced to an estimated search zone of forty.”
I wanted to strangle him, but I kept my cool.
“Hmm…” I said. “I think that’s enough from you, Doc. I can see your heart isn’t in this. You’re relieved.”
“What?”
“You can’t do it—don’t worry, I understand. Not everyone can think creatively when the pressure is on. I don’t want you to blame yourself—”
He produced a nervous twitter. “I assure you, I won’t.”
“Good,” I said, standing up. I slapped him on the shoulder, making him wince. “I’ll move on. There are some real thinkers on the navigational team. They might come up with something better.”
“Preposterous!”
“You relax right here. If inspiration comes to you, give me a call.”
I walked away, and I could feel his eyes burning into my back. I’d stung his ego, which was about the size of the Hunter itself.
“Hold on…” he said. “We could eliminate numerous worlds. Places like this that have no planets, for example.”
I paused and shrugged. “A target profile of the kind of system we’re looking for? Might help.”
He stood up and began pacing. I didn’t leave, but instead watched him quietly from the doorway.
“Navigators… Absurd!” he muttered to himself. “But profiling…? We do have one positive case study, and two negative.”
“I’m listening. What system was the positive case?”
“The system where we met up with the three Imperial carriers, of course.”
That got me to thinking. “Yes… what were they doing out there? There are only two reasons I can think of that would place them in that system. Either they were advanced scouts looking for target systems later, or they were operating a Hunter somewhere nearby.”
“We can easily figure out which was the case,” Abrams said. “Follow me.”
I did as he asked. His eyes were bright and intense. I’d gotten him fully engaged despite himself.
He led the way to his labs and began searching after-action reports from the Rebel Fleet. When we’d visited Fex’s battle station, we’d been provided with a database dump of such documents from all over the Orion Front.
“No,” Abrams said, “my first hypothesis failed, therefore the second is implicitly proven. Not really proven, mind you, but we have to take some things on faith due to our time limit.”
“What are you talking about, exactly?” I asked.
“There are no reported Hunter attacks within a thirty lightyear range of the system where we met the Imperial patrol. In other sightings—there have been several—there were Hunter attacks closer than that. That brings me to the shaky conclusion that they weren’t there to direct an attack, but rather to scout, or to perform some other—”
“Hang on,” I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face. “You did a search on sightings, and you found attacks were within thirty lightyears?”
“Closer.”
“What’s the average distance?”
He tapped at his tablet. I could see he was thinking hard, and following my line of reasoning.
“About sixteen lightyears.”
“How many stars are that close to Ral?”
We kept working, and we soon had an answer. Using the after-action reports, and general sightings to go on, we found the enemy ships were always seen at inhabitable systems in a range of ten to twenty lightyears out from where the Hunter was doing its deadly work.
“It makes sense…” I said, staring at the bulkhead and thinking hard. “The Imperials are scouting for their Hunter’s next meal. That’s why the Imperial ships are spotted at inhabited systems—why bother consuming a bunch of uninhabitable planets?”
“Hmm…” Abrams said. “I think I may have exceeded my capacities this time! The profile is building itself rapidly. We need to come up with a series of stars with inhabitable worlds about ten to twenty lightyears out from Ral.”
“Let’s come up with a list,” I urged him.
“I’m working… silence is appreciated… thank you.”
He worked his computer with rapid, fluttering motions and touches of his long digits. He was new to his sym, which could have more directly and swiftly handled the input, but I didn’t suggest it. I was happy to wait a few minutes.
“There…” he said at last. “Three systems. That’s all the matches we have, even given a twenty-percent error ratio.”
“Good enough. Send me the coordinates. I’ve got to forward them to Ursahn.”
He looked morose.
“What?”
“I would prefer to pass them to Captain Ursahn directly, from my account to hers.”
I studied the ceiling for a second, then smiled at him. “Certainly. Add a note informing her that you are a member of my team, and I approve of the transmission.”
He pursed his lips in disgust as he followed my instructions.
“What’s wrong now, Doc?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just that I find people who take credit for the work of others to be objectionable.”
“Me too,” I said, walking away.
I left him with a puzzled look on his face. I don’t think he’d gotten the meaning of my jab—but I didn’t much care.
=37=
Two jumps. That’s what it took to catch up with our survey team. I was surprised we’d nailed it that closely—but then, maybe we’d gotten lucky.
Whatever the case, we popped into existence, exiting a rift into a quiet system with three jewel-like worlds.
The closest to the binary star in the center of the system was a hot world, full of steaming oceans, a thick cloud-layer and lots of fast-growing life forms. According to our data core of planetary surveys, the planet’s biosphere consisted primarily of algae and molds that could consume flesh and grow exponentially if conditions were right.
The second world was hot too, but covered in deserts. The only water was found under the surface, and few people lived there.
The third planet was a blue-green gem. It was small, about eighty percent the size of Earth, but it was paradise. There were cold poles, shining oceans of liquid water and a dozen craggy mountain ranges boasting peaks taller than Everest, all frosted with snow.
“Such lovely worlds,” Gwen said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like them.”
We searched quietly, scanning passively at first and actively when we found nothing—but that stage didn’t last long.
“There’s an emergency call coming in, from the third planet,” Gwen told me.
“Can you connect them to my sym? What are they saying?”
“It’s primitive… binary-based—I don’t think these people are very technologically sophisticated.”
“Chang? Get out the dictionary on these guys.”
The “dictionary” was what we called the data core we had from the Rebel Fleet Command. It was a database of known worlds, membership status and much more. The Rebel Kher were far from meticulous in their behavior, but they’d seen the value of maintaining a repository of information on worlds in their sphere of influence.
The data records weren’t written the way humans would do it. Each entry consisted of a very long list of numerical values in fields. Some of these were hard measurements, like the gravitational pull of each local planet, while others were subjective classifications about things like culture and advancement. There was no descriptive text narrative.
“Hmm…” Chang said, going over the pages of fields and ratings. “I’d say they’re something like Earth from a century ago.”
“But they have radio, and an encoding system. Break their code.”
Chang looked at me, startled. “Um… maybe Abrams would be up for the challenge?”
I grinned. “I’m sure he would. Pass it to me.”
Frowning, Chang did as I asked. I typed a note, and sent it to several people, one of them being Abrams. The rest on the list were much less accomplished people.
Miller looked up, startled. “You put that in my lap?” he asked.
“Read the message. I sent it to everyone. I’m just asking people to take a look. The first one back with a response gets a cookie.”
He looked at me as if I was insane. “I’m not interested in phantom cookies.”
“Nevertheless, help me out. Come up with a lame theory, the first one that comes to mind, and fire it out in a general reply to the whole group.”
“How in the hell will that help anything?”
“Humor me.”
Shaking his head, he did as I asked. The results were almost immediate. Abrams didn’t just respond, he came up onto the bridge in a fury.
“What are you playing at, Captain?” he demanded of me.
I had my fingers knitted behind my head. I nodded to him in a friendly fashion.
“What do you think of Miller’s idea?” I said. “Parallel development of Morse code on another planet? That’s got to be pretty close.”
“Insanity! What have I done to be saddled with such an assortment of hopeless cretins? Captain, I implore you to wait before you embarrass Earth by trying to respond to these people. Give me an hour. That’s all I ask.”
I studied the planets hanging outside the windows, and I considered my options.
“All right,” I said. “One hour.”
He rushed off the bridge, and everyone stared at me in bewilderment.
“That nerd is sooo irritating,” Samson said.
“He means well,” Gwen said.
Miller approached my command chair, where I lounged.
“You made me the fool on purpose, didn’t you?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Why would such a thing motivate him to work harder?”
I squinted, trying to put it into words.
“Pride,” I said at last. “He has great pride in his mental capacities, and he also can’t stand to see someone else perform a mental task incorrectly. All I did was engage his natural obsessions and put them to use.”
Miller nodded. “That’s pretty clever,” he said. “And I think I understand you better now, Blake. You’re a manipulative son-of-a-bitch.”
“It’s called getting things done, Miller. Look into it. How’s that survey going?”
He began reciting his report, but I barely listened. It wasn’t important. What I wanted to know was what those people on the third jewel-like world had to say.
We had the answer forty-nine minutes later. Abrams rushed to the command deck, his hair in disarray, his eyes red and bleary.
“I think I have it,” he said. “It’s a warning of some kind.”
“What’s it say?” I asked him.
“Open your eyes, ship of the sky. The enemy is close.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Samson asked, having overhead.
I sat up and stared at every instrument. I felt my mouth go dry. The message was an hour old. If the enemy had been close then—how close were they now?
=38=
I contacted Ursahn on an open channel—I felt I had to.
But instead of Ursahn’s odd face, I was confronted by Shaw. He talked to me through my sym, like a ghost in my mind.
“Blake?” he asked. “Why are you revealing your position this way?”
“We believe we’ve deciphered the transmissions from the locals. They’re warning us that the enemy is close.”
Shaw examined his instruments. “I wasn’t aware these primitives were hailing us... Are you sure you understand their language?”
“Well enough. What have you seen with your superior sensory array?”
“The Imperials have been here,” he said. “That much we’ve confirmed. There are tritium trails all around the orbit of the inhabited planet.”
“They were out here, scouting,” I observed. “That must be why these people warned us—they have radio, obviously telescopes… Do you think they might be a target for the Imperials?”
“Not unless they’ve changed their own standards. Imperials have never attacked planets that have no significant presence in space. It wouldn’t be sporting, you know.”
“Right…” I said, thinking hard. “Any way to know how long those exhaust trails have been here?”
“They would have dissipated if they’d been laid down more than a week ago.”
“So, is it possible they could still be in the system?”
“It hasn’t been ruled out yet,” he admitted.
“Can I talk to Ursahn?”
He hesitated. “No, not now. We’ve got an active mission going on, and I need to sign off now, thanks. Please refrain from chit-chat in the future.”
“I’m not…!” I began, but trailed off. He’d closed the channel.
“What are they doing that’s so important?” I asked my crew.
“I’ve got local trails, many small ones. Flying in formation around the inhabited planet.”
“Move toward their position,” I said. “They’ve shifted to a higher orbit.”
We were right on top of the planet by this time, about a hundred miles from the blue-white-brown surface. Dalton applied thrust, and we swung away from the planet carefully.
Moving against the gravity-well of the planet, we came up close to Killer. That seemed to spook her crew.
“They’re bringing their fighters back to short-range sweeps,” Chang said.
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “They can’t see us,” I said. “Not even this close. But they suspect we’re here. Why is that, Miller?”
He looked startled. He wasn’t a highly technical person, but he knew more about the phasing system than anyone else aboard.
“They can detect a local presence by measuring micro-disturbances in local space. It’s like sensing ripples in a pool with your eyes closed. You might know when someone quietly gets into the water with you, but you wouldn’t know exactly where they were.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I feel like testing them. Maintain radio silence.”
He looked at me, startled. “This isn’t a game, Captain.”
“I didn’t say it was. I’m performing an experiment. I want to know if the Rebels can sense us, and how close we can get before we’re spotted.”
“They might fire on us—they’d have the right.”
I shrugged. “But they won’t. The moment they see us we’ll identify ourselves.”
He muttered something about discipline and madness, but he turned back to his console and left the phasing unit on.
We nudged closer and closer to Killer’s looming hull.
“We’re about a thousand miles out, Captain,” Dalton said quietly. It was as if he thought Ursahn’s crew might hear us.
“What about her fighter CAP?” I asked.
Dalton turned to me and grinned. “We’re inside her screen. We slipped past them.”
I grinned back. “Well done, Dalton.”
“Sir,” Miller said. “May I remind you that this is the approximate range at which we engaged the Imperial phase-ship? If we are detected now, Killer’s gunners might well fire first and ask questions later. We’re well within her safety perimeter.”
“You’re right. Gwen, give me a channel to her command deck.”
“Hold on!” Chang said. “I have contacts, sir. Coming from the far side of the planet—they’re rising up out of the atmosphere.”
“Give me a visual.”
A slowly spinning wire-frame of the planet appeared. There were three contacts all right. Just like there had been when we’d found the enemy carriers.
But this time, they weren’t carriers. They were heavy cruisers.
“Shouldn’t we show ourselves?” Miller demanded. “Killer is sure to be nervous now.”
“Dalton, slide us out of here. Ease off on our engines and let Killer pull away from us.”
We watched tensely as Killer went to battle stations and began to apply thrust. Her fighters stopped buzzing around her like flies, forming up and moving to defend the mothership instead. A hundred streaking jets glowed against the atmosphere of the bright planet below.
“They’re going to try to hit the cruisers before they can get clear of the atmosphere,” I said. “Follow them, Dalton.”
He glanced at me in alarm, but then he turned back to the helm and did as I’d ordered. We felt the thrust of our own engines, and Samson switched on the anti-grav to keep us from being plastered against the aft wall of the bridge.
Killer fell away behind us, moving away from the coming conflict. Like most carriers, she was lightly armed and armored. She had dependable shields, but that was about it. She relied on her fighters to damage the enemy.
But three heavy cruisers… It seemed hopeless. One Rebel carrier couldn’t face three heavy warships like these. Our only advantage was the fact they were still in the atmosphere.
What had they been doing down there? Hiding? Repairing? It was impossible to know.
“Full thrust,” I said, “I want to get into attack position just as they’re coming out of the atmosphere.”
Many worried glances were exchanged around the bridge. I pretended not to notice.
“Uh…” Samson said, “are we going to attack three cruisers, sir?”
There it was, he’d come out with what everyone else was thinking.
“Crew,” I said seriously. “We have to stop the Hunter from destroying Ral. Either that, or Ursahn will drag us to that star system and have the Hunter grind us up.”
“But we don’t know if these Imperials are actually operating the Hunter,” Gwen pointed out.
I glanced at her in irritation.
“Uh… Sorry Captain. I was just voicing a concern.”
“Noted. But you should all realize we’re about out of time. There are only a few other systems that match the profile Abrams worked up. Either these Imperials are it—or we’re not going to find the control group.”
“What if we’re pissing in the wind?” Dalton asked. “It seems daft to me.”
“Objections noted, everyone. Get us into position, Dalton.”
There were no more complaints. They tensely guided our ship down close to the blue world. It stretched out under our glass-bottomed hull like an endless carpet of colored light. I would have drunk in the lovely view if things hadn’t been so grim.
The fighters engaged the rising ships at the cusp of the atmosphere. At that point they were vulnerable. They couldn’t turn on their shields without slowing their ascent—all ships only had so much power to apply.
“Still no shields?” I asked.
“None detected,” Chang confirmed. “They won’t turn them on until they’re above the mesosphere. Every molecule of gas will be repelled by the shields, draining far too much power, particularly when they are thrusting hard to get off the ground.”
“Are we going to have to switch off our own shields when we get down there?”
“Afraid so, Captain,” Samson said.
The fighters met the first ship as it rose majestically up to face them. I used my sym to reach out and witness the battle up close.
The vision wasn’t perfect, as our sensors didn’t function as well while we were phasing, but I followed the action easily.
The lead fighter squadron struck, looking like a mass of wasps with guns. Strikes popped all over the hull in rapid succession.
But the bigger ship was well-armored. Its own defensive cannons blazed in return. Fighters spiraled and vanished in tiny explosions. Some struck the cruiser itself, but it kept rising, shrugging them off.
Then, everything changed. I never saw the critical blow, but something inside the big ship ignited. The hot white core blazed into a huge explosion.
It was quite a spectacle—I’d never seen a warship go up like that. This time there was an atmosphere to burn, even if it was very thin, and ballooning gasses seared my eyes.
The ripples in the upper atmosphere rolled away from the explosion. Fighters tumbled and scattered in every direction, desperate to escape. I felt for them. I’d commanded just such a fighter not so long ago.
=39=
“Ursahn is sending in her second squadron now,” Gwen said. “They’re right behind us.”
“Give them room and let them go by,” I said, leaning over my instruments. “Keep phasing. We’ve got to get closer.”
“The second ship is rising out of the atmosphere now,” Miller said. “We can’t get close before she gets her shields up.”
I was left grinding my teeth. We were too far out for a sure kill-shot. But if they got their shields up, the fighters wouldn’t have a chance to penetrate it.
“Suggestions?” I asked. “Do we wait until the fighters engage and put a hole in that shield for them, or do we fire at long range now and hope for luck?”
They were silent for a second. Miller spoke up first.
“We’re unlikely to take her out with a single blow either way. But if we fire now, we can probably start phasing again before she can pinpoint us and take us out.”
I looked at him, nodding. “A plan where we survive to fight another round? I like it. Drop phasing. Gunner, take down that ship! Fire at will!”
We waited for three short seconds as Dalton steadied our keel. We didn’t want any unexpected bumps. We were close enough to the top layers of the planet’s atmosphere to give us trouble at high speeds.
I used my sym to amplify my perception of the enemy ship. My vision of the battle cleared dramatically.
The cruiser really was a monster. She was nosing upward like a shark. I thought I saw the first flickering evidence of shielding going up.
“Fire, Miller!” I shouted. “Their shields are going live!”
He worked his controls and engaged a short countdown. The computers had to take over, as this was a long-range shot. We couldn’t guarantee a hit without their help in creating a firing solution.
The computer inched the turret twice, servos whining, and the projector flared white. Fortunately, we were protected this time. Samson had wisely made the cupola over the bridge opaque.
Using enhanced perception, I was able to experience the strike like few others could. The beam lanced out in a split-second. The radiation was intense and focused. It struck the second cruiser before she could take evasive action, or deploy significant countermeasures.
We had every advantage. The enemy ship was only partially shielded, she was thrusting hard, and the atmosphere burning against her speeding hull blinded many of her sensory systems.
More importantly, we’d been invisible until a few seconds ago. She’d been configured to combat another wing of fighters, not a single intense strike.
Our single cannon-shot caught her on the prow. It wasn’t a perfect strike, in fact, it was probably a worst-case region to hit. The engines in the rear were more vulnerable. The prow was armed and armored.
But it didn’t matter. The surprise was complete and devastating. As before, there was a large explosion. There were enough molecules of oxygen around the target to help with that.
When the vapor cleared, the ship had a large hole driven into it. The pointed prow looked like it had been bitten off and charred black.
A cheer went up around the bridge—but our jubilation was short-lived.
“Captain!” Samson shouted. “The third cruiser is engaging. They’ve got a lock on us—we’ve got incoming missiles!”
“Deploy countermeasures!” I ordered, and other voices began shouting all around me as well. People were calling for the crew to brace for impact.
“Miller, get us phased-out again,” I said. “Dalton, veer off.”
For about a minute everyone was working hard, and I couldn’t do much other than watch the drama unfold.
The cruiser we’d struck hadn’t been taken out. We’d given her a hard knock, but she was still in the fight, laboring to push her way up into open space. Once she was able to fully deploy her shields, she’d be hard to take down.
In the meantime the last cruiser, the one we’d neglected while dealing with her sisters, was already on us. She’d engaged, and every warning light and alarm was going off at once to tell us about it.
I considered ordering Dalton to come about to face the injured ship. If we could take one last shot at the injured cruiser, we’d probably be able to finish her now…
But no. It was suicide to fight on. Phase-ships were all about stealth and surprise. Now that we’d revealed ourselves, we were helpless in a straight fight with these behemoths.
It was about time I learned to handle Hammerhead the way she’d been designed to operate. We had to run and live to fight another day. It was the nature of this ship-class.
Clenching my teeth until they hurt, I let my people do their individual jobs. At this point, I could only slow them down.
We were headed toward open space and accelerating hard—but there was no way we were going to outrun missiles.
Then the stars outside the hull vanished, replaced by a projection of their theoretical contact positions. We’d phased-out again.
All over the bridge, my crew let out sighs of relief.
Dalton swung us hard-over, performing a random seventy-degree turn away from our previous heading. We were invisible, yes, but that wouldn’t save us if the AI in those missiles was good at predicting our course correctly—as I was sure it was.
“Keep running, full burn,” I said. “They might not be able to see our trail. After about twenty seconds, throttle back and make another random course-shift.”
Dalton nodded, sweat falling from his hair and face to splatter his console. He was breathing through his mouth, gulping air. We’d all been sweating hard.
I had faith in Dalton. He’d been an excellent pilot when we’d been flying smaller gunships around. On most submarines back on Earth, junior crewmen actually steered the boat. But that wasn’t acceptable aboard a spaceship. There were too many things that could go wrong and critical decisions had to be made faster.
Allowing myself a moment for reflection, I considered the fact that commanding a phase-ship was completely unlike piloting a fighter. Oddly enough, it seemed like I felt more stress while we were phasing in and out than I’d experienced while flying a smaller ship in open space.
It must be related to the timing of events in battle, I figured. In the phase-ship, the quietness of stealth was inevitably followed by a brief period of intense action. You felt terribly exposed whenever you weren’t phasing, and the suspense of the long waits in-between took their toll on the mind.
“Dammit!” Samson cried out suddenly, slapping at his controls.
Gwen moved swiftly to his station, looming over his shoulder. She signaled me with a worried glance.
I joined her, and watched Samson work his console. He was shutting things off as fast as he could.
“What seems to be the trouble, Ensign?” I asked in calm voice.
He was breathing hard, running his hands over every one of his defensive-measure controls.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I forgot. With all the excitement—I just forgot.”
“Forgot what?” I asked.
“The countermeasures… We were using tanks of chaff and aerogels to throw off missiles and diffuse beams—but I left them open, pumping out material after we began phasing.”
In an instant, I knew what he was talking about. We were in trouble.
“All hands,” I announced over the ship-wide PA. “Prepare for impact. Get yourselves into a harness and stay there!”
Everyone scrambled to obey.
Samson threw up his hands in frustration.
“I’m sorry Captain,” he said. “I’m not used to flying this thing yet—I was following the old playbook from our fighter.”
“Dalton,” I said, ignoring Samson, “give us another random heading. Get your helmets on, people. Pressurize them immediately.”
Everyone grabbed at hanging helmets, and our suits puffed out as oxygen filled them. Some looked bewildered, but they all seemed to get the urgency of the situation.
Gwen seated herself next to me. She reached out and touched my arm.
“How screwed are we, exactly?” she asked.
“The chaff and aerogels… once they leave our immediate vicinity, they will unphase.”
She stared at me for a second. “Leaving a trail behind us?”
“Exactly. Those missiles would have to be extremely dumb and blind to miss it. We have to assume the worst.”
She craned her head around, as if looking for the missiles, but of course, we couldn’t see them.
We were almost as blind as the enemy now. The missiles were out there, but we didn’t know exactly where they were.
=40=
Unfortunately, the Imperials had been tracking our ship. The missiles found the trail of chaff and prismatic crystals. Some exploded, confused by the countermeasures—but not all of them.
We all watched the screens. Our sensory projections were guesswork due to limited input, but they showed the basics—gravitational centers and powerful energy releases.
We could see the planet below us. It was a massive globe in a slow spin. That wasn’t the interesting part, however.
“See that flash?” Miller called out, highlighting it. “We’ve got strikes in our wake.”
“Where’s the digital count?” I demanded. “I want a strike-count, and a percentage of the total missiles released. Get some data up with this chalk-drawing, Chang!”
“Working on it, Captain. But keep in mind we don’t know exactly how many missiles the Imperials have fired at us.”
“Give me an educated guess.”
The tension was intense. Samson was showing his teeth in a wide grimace.
“I’m sorry about this, Leo,” he said quietly. “I really am.”
“You might get a chance to do better later on,” I told him. “If we’re lucky.”
More strikes appeared. Seven of them popped in rapid succession, according to Chang’s new counter which he’d added to the interface.
“They’re going off several hundred miles behind us,” Gwen said, working on the interface data. “We might be in the clear.”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Those missiles are bombing the decoys we left behind in open space. The birds that are smart enough to pass that stuff up—they’re the ones we have to worry about.”
“I’ve got your percentage calculation up now, Captain,” Chang said calmly.
My eyes slid to the number. It was blue, and it was fateful.
“They’ve only blown three percent of active payloads?” I demanded. “That’s all?”
“The rest are unaccounted for by our sensors.”
“They have to be—”
I’d been intending to say something like “right on top of us” when the next round of strikes began. These were chained along our wake. They came in rapid succession, each exploding a hole in space about a mile apart from the last. Each strike was rapidly closing in on our position.
“Evasive action!” I shouted to Dalton.
He swung the helm hard, diving toward the planet. If we hit the atmosphere, we’d become visible as an outline due to the released energies from our hull heating up with friction. That was if we survived striking the atmosphere at speed anyway. It was a risky play, but maybe it would be unexpected.
I didn’t argue with Dalton’s decision. I hadn’t told him where to go, just to change course.
We all watched the chained explosions, about two every second, as they bombed along the path we’d just followed. The enemy couldn’t see us, but they knew our last course heading. If they could get close enough with a warhead, they might rupture our unshielded hull.
The seconds counted down swiftly. The chain of explosions came to where we’d been—and kept going, following our old path, not Dalton’s new, diving path.
A small tremor shook the ship. Then more came afterward.
“Are we feeling the strikes?” Gwen asked fearfully.
I frowned. “No, I think that’s the upper atmosphere. Dalton, bounce off those clouds and get us back up into a stable orbit.”
He did as I asked, and we felt another wave of relief a few minutes later. I took the time to go over to Samson’s station and check all his tanks and valves personally. He looked glum, but he didn’t argue.
“Better safe than sorry,” Dalton said, giving Samson a shitty grin. “I always knew you’d screw this up.”
Samson hung his head, his thick jaw muscles bulging. I supportively thumped his shoulder once.
“Nothing to see here,” I said. “He’s just a little dazed after fighting Grefs to the death back on Killer.”
“Dazed, is it?” Dalton snickered. He’d never been a man to know when to stop kicking the injured. “Is that the latest Yank word for stupid?”
I flashed a glare at Dalton, and he finally shut up.
“All right,” I said as we got back above the planetary envelop of gases. “We lived, while two of the enemy ships have been destroyed. That’s a pretty good track record.”
Suddenly, a klaxon sounded. I looked around, trying to see everyone’s station at once.
“Proximity alarm!” Miller shouted. “Dropping phase—Samson, give me shields!”
The opaqueness of space cleared, and I could see the missile’s plume in the distance for a split second before the blast shields rolled up outside the bridge section.
“Everyone hang on!” I shouted.
My body pitched forward due to momentum, and it was more like I tackled my chair airborne—rather than flopped into it.
All around me, people were flying for cover. The confusion was anything but organized.
We were in open space now, hanging above the blue-white world that spread out below us, filling half the universe. Our shields crackled into life over the hull. Without the phasing system sucking up all the power, we could afford things like shields.
Samson had time to deploy a few decoys, but they didn’t help much. The fusion warhead went off alarmingly close to our hull.
It was as if a terrific bell had been rung. The atmosphere inside the ship carried the vibration throughout, and peoples’ ears bled.
Fortunately, my helmet was on and sealed. I felt as if I’d been hit on the skull with a rubber mallet and kicked in the balls at the same time, but I was conscious and able to hear myself talk.
“Phase out again!” I said to Miller.
I don’t know if he heard me, but less than a minute later we slipped away again.
Gwen pushed Dalton away from the helm. He was out cold. I saw him slump away and drift in free-fall.
She took his station, changed course randomly again, and we escaped further strikes.
“What the hell happened?” Gwen demanded.
“It wasn’t my fault!” Samson said, clutching at his controls. “Not this time!”
“No,” I said. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. A lucky strike, I’d guess.”
Miller shook his head. “No sir. In my opinion, the enemy spotted our trail in the atmosphere and took a shot. Either that, or one of those AI missiles was patrolling this region, looking for a target, and found us.”
I nodded thoughtfully. If Miller was right, the fault was Dalton’s—but it was hard to second guess anyone at this point.
“That’s why you took it upon yourself to order us into the clear, Miller?” I asked him.
“Yes, sorry Captain. There was no time to explain. The missile was too close by the time we detected it. I had to come out of phase in order to give Samson a chance to bring up the shields.”
“It’s all right. That missile wasn’t going to miss us. You did the right thing.”
Dalton crawled off the deck, where he’d drifted down in a collapse. He groaned and glared at Samson.
“You did that somehow, didn’t you?” he demanded. “For revenge!”
“Nope… but I wish I had,” Samson said, grinning back at him.
=41=
We had a brief respite after that. The enemy cruisers were both up and gliding along above the atmosphere with us—but they didn’t seem to have any idea where we were.
The cruiser we’d struck seemed to be functional, but she was badly hurt.
“She’s still leaking a gas trail, Captain,” Chang confirmed.
“Okay... Dalton? Are you able to man your post?”
He looked banged-up, but he gave me a confident nod. “I’m in prime condition, sir.”
I squinted at him hard. “You’re relieved. Go to Medical. XO, take his station.”
He grumbled and dragged himself off the deck.
“Sir,” Miller said, “may I make a suggestion?”
I considered the request for a second, and I nodded at last. “Let’s hear it.”
“We should slip out of orbit and escape this conflict while we can.”
“Tell me why?”
He began displaying charts and numbers. “We’re still facing two heavy cruisers. One is damaged, yes, but Killer has lost a third of her fighters and we’ve got several leaks below decks.”
I checked over his data. He was right. The missile strike had done more than pop a few eardrums. We had three crewmen incapacitated, and six more who needed medical assistance. One of the oxygen-generators was out of commission, leaving us technically with no more than four days of air to breathe if we couldn’t fix it. There were a number of other damaged systems, but none that were critical.
“Go on,” I said tiredly.
“The ship is in pretty bad shape. The enemy is no longer vulnerable in the atmosphere. We’ve also lost our strategic advantage of surprise. They know we’re out here.”
“Everything you’re telling me is true, but I don’t see what we can do other than engage again.”’
He looked startled. “Do? We don’t have to do anything. We could go to the far side of this world and drop into her atmosphere to effect repairs—that’s a real option.”
“You’re forgetting something,” I said. “This fight ain’t over, and Killer isn’t invisible. She’s out there in far orbit, fighting two cruisers alone.”
“So, warn her off,” he said. “We can relay our situation when we’re out of range of the enemy, and she can retreat from the system if she wants to. We could even arrange a rendezvous, so she can take us out of the system with her.”
I shook my head. “We’re not fighting over this system,” I said. “We’re fighting for Ral. These Imperials have something to do with the Hunter at Ral, I’m convinced of that.”
“Agreed, but it doesn’t change anything. We’re going to lose this fight.”
My eyes squinted as I regarded him. “You think like an Imperial, you know that? They would retreat if the situation was reversed. The fact they’re still here indicates they agree with you. They think they can win this battle.”
Miller looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure if he’d been insulted or not.
“Look, Captain,” he said. “I’m giving you my best advice. This is Earth’s only ship, and we’re her only crew. We can’t risk this ship any longer for a bunch of fuzzy aliens.”
There it was, out in the open. He simply didn’t believe in our mission.
In some ways, I could see his point. What did we really owe to the rest of the Rebel Kher? How many would lay down their lives to save Earth, when it really came down to it? A few, I guess, but not too many. Rebel Command thought in the aggregate, viewing this as a struggle between two interstellar groups grinding against one another. One planet more or less didn’t matter much.
“Miller, your advice is sound,” I said, standing up and floating to where Gwen was operating the helm. “But I’m not going to follow it.”
“May I ask why not, Blake?” he asked.
He was slipping up on his promises by calling me Blake, but I decided to let that go until a better time. I turned my attention to my helmsman instead.
“Gwen,” I said, “take us around behind the injured ship. Put us in range of her engines if you can. Ursahn will hit that vessel, if I don’t miss my guess.”
“Sir?” Miller asked, demanding an answer to his question.
I turned to face him while Gwen began swinging Hammerhead around to a new heading.
“Miller,” I said, “morale wins many battles. Completely destroying an enemy is rare. Getting them to give up is much easier and that’s what we’re going to do.”
To emphasize my words, I tapped at our best sensor data. Screens zoomed. Tiny contacts were approaching from deep space, dropping down rapidly into the planet’s gravity-well.
They were fighters, the second wing arriving from Killer. She wasn’t giving up, and if she was willing to die for the billions of innocents on Ral, I couldn’t abandon her.
I tried not to think of Mia as we slid into position, sneaking up on the injured cruiser, but it was impossible not to.
Was she still alive out there? Did she ever think of me? It was odd to be wondering about a woman from a distant world, but we’d had a good thing going while serving together on Killer’s decks.
We waited until the fighters began their suicidal run. The two heavy cruisers hugged each other close enough to overlap shields. Their rear guns were directed aft, as if they knew they had to cover their stern.
“Miller, keep one hand on that phase-system. Gwen, steady-on.”
They focused on their tasks with the utmost concentration, perhaps none more determinedly than Samson himself. He was not going to screw up again, I could tell.
When the fighters struck, it was a slaughter. Defensive fire lanced out from both cruisers, burning the tiny ships down methodically. They were like a swarm of locusts attacking a grain field. They lit up the shields, making them glimmer yellow, then a deep orange.
“We’ve got to fire, Captain!” Samson said, swept up in the emotion of the moment.
“Hold on. Ensign Miller, take over the tactical weapons station.”
Miller did as I ordered without comment. The crewman he’d relieved stepped aside without remorse. He’d been a replacement, and I didn’t think he wanted the stress under these circumstances.
There came a moment I was waiting for. Watching our fighters die hopelessly was difficult to do, but it was necessary. The big ships had to begin to believe we weren’t here. That we weren’t a threat.
At last, I saw what I was looking for. Some of the forward planes of shielding had failed on the injured cruiser. To compensate, she lowered the power on her aft shields over her engines, shifting power forward. The aft shields dimmed in response.
“That’s it!” I said. “They’ve stopped worrying about us. Miller, take us out of phase and blast that bastard in the ass.”
We appeared, and we began immediately taking hits. Small automated turrets on the stern of each of the bigger ships had begun spraying us with fire. Samson was well prepared, putting up shields and defensive measures as fast as his fingers could engage the pre-programmed sequences.
But our big gun was tracking, locking on.
“Fire when ready, Miller.”
“Firing solution locked,” Chang announced.
“Weapon ready…” Miller said calmly. “Weapon hot…”
A gush of radiation flowed from our ship to the enemy stern. They’d just begun to react, spinning around, doubtlessly redirecting their shielding—but it was too late.
Our beam burned right through her half-strength shield and into the exhaust ports. The engine on the port side exploded. A second later—the whole cruiser went up in a chain-reaction.
=42=
We were committed now. There was no easy way to turn back. Two of the enemy cruisers were gone, but the last one was fully operational and intact.
On paper, Killer and Hammerhead were winning this fight. We’d done so by expending fighters ruthlessly and striking by surprise at critical moments with Hammerhead.
The trouble was, Killer had lost something like sixty percent of her fighters. The surviving pilots were running now, scattered in every direction and fleeing for their lives.
Beams of intense radiation, made visible by our computers, lanced out after them from the remaining cruiser. Sometimes they struck home and destroyed another tiny ship.
“That’s it,” I said, “Miller, phase out as soon as we can. That last big bastard will turn on us as soon as she can.”
“I have to admit, Captain,” he said, “I didn’t think we could pull that off. Now, all we have to do is vanish again. When the fighters come back for the final push, we’ll strike again and take the third ship down.”
Gwen and I exchanged knowing glances.
“That probably won’t happen,” Gwen said.
“What?” asked Miller. “Why not? Why not press the advantage while we can?”
“It’s not us,” I said, “it’s the fighter pilots. They’ve suffered over fifty percent losses. They won’t attack again. They’ll run back to Killer and hide.”
Miller frowned. “Sure, they’ve taken heavy losses, but victory is so close—phasing on.”
“Shields down,” Samson said.
Gwen shifted our course without being prompted. We all knew the routine now. If someone was tracking us, we had to vanish, and then make it impossible to figure out where we’d gone.
“Captain’s right,” Samson said, stretching his fingers and leaning back in his chair. “The Rebel Kher don’t think quite the way we do. They’ll attack in a wild charge, hitting very hard—once. Maybe you can get them together again for a second go. But after that, they’ll fall apart.”
“Odd…” Miller said, staring out into space. The blast shields had rolled away to reveal the twilight world that was visible only when phasing.
“It’s not really unusual,” I said. “After the last campaign, I studied warrior behavior patterns from records we have on Earth. Very often, barbaric armies would face more organized, technologically superior forces in this same manner.”
Miller gave me a strange look. “So, while I was studying your reports, you were studying the Middle Ages?”
“Further back than that. For example, when the Romans fought barbarian armies, the enemy was usually made up of a ferocious core of fighters with a lot of stragglers behind them. When that core charged, they were terrifying—even to the Romans.”
“Interesting…” Miller said. “That isn’t quite the image you get from movies.”
“True, but that’s how it generally went. The barbarians would slam into the Roman lines, but if the Romans could hold, the barbarians would run off and give up. They were usually only good for one charge.”
“So, you’re saying the Rebels are like that? Barbarian-minded, despite their technological advances?”
“Yes, from what we’ve observed. Remember that the Rebels are a hodge-podge of peoples from many worlds. They’re anything but organized and united. They’d probably fight each other to the death if it weren’t for their fear of the Imperials.”
Miller nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, what’s next then? Presuming Killer won’t be able to press the fight any further?”
“We have two choices,” Gwen said, “we can return to Killer to defend her, or we can trail the cruiser looking for opportunities.”
“We’ll trail the cruiser,” I said. “If she goes after Killer, we’ll be perfectly positioned to help.”
But it soon became evident that wasn’t going to happen. The heavy cruiser built up speed during two orbits of the planet below, then broke free of the gravity well and headed out to open space.
“She’s not going for Killer,” Gwen said. “She’s not heading sunward, either.”
“Yeah… keep after her, anyway.”
We followed her for a few hundred thousand miles, then she opened a rift and plunged into it.
“She’s pulling out!” Chang said.
There was no easy way for us to tell where the stellar flux she’d left behind went to. We peered at it, and ran computer analyses, but they were fruitless.
“It looks like a yellow star in the flux,” Chang said, “but it could be any of a billion star systems.”
Ursahn contacted us then, and we responded in the clear. The system appeared to be free of enemy ships.
“Captain,” I said, “we can’t detect any other ships in the region. Can you get to our position to head into this rift?”
“Head into the enemy rift?” Ursahn asked incredulously. “You are the most bloodthirsty of primates. Do you have a death wish?”
I shrugged. “No, but we’re on a mission to save Ral. These three ships were controlling the Hunter. We must finish the last one.”
“That is supposition and conjecture. I’ve lost a hundred fighter crews and their craft. It will take weeks at dock to repair Killer and gather new squadrons.”
“Are you forgetting our instructions?” I asked. “Fex demanded that we save Ral.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “He is a mad-thing. Almost as crazy as you are. It was only luck that allowed you to survive this long—you know that, don’t you? One phase-ship can’t fight three cruisers.”
“I wasn’t alone,” I said. “I had you at my back. But maybe I was wrong to believe that. Maybe I only assumed you were brave—my apologies.”
“Captain, do not poke the bear,” advised Sampson in a whisper.
Ursahn stared at me angrily for several seconds. Her people didn’t have quite the same facial expressions that mine did, but I could tell by the way her dark lips were lifting to reveal her teeth she was pissed off.
“You insult my honor?” she demanded. “After all our sacrifice?”
“No, Captain. Of course not. I’m merely suggesting we should finish this while we can.”
“How?” she demanded, cooling a little. “I’m coming your way, but we’re out of position. The rift will fade before we can arrive.”
I glanced at Chang, who nodded to confirm what she was saying. After thinking hard for a moment, I faced Ursahn again.
“We’ll go through,” I said. “Alone.”
Ursahn’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “Brave to the point of self-destruction. Such an odd people—at one moment tricky and malicious, and at the next noble and selfless.”
“We’ll follow them, take a look around, and run back to you. Once we get a fix, we can follow at our own schedule.”
“Scouting…” she said. “All right. Do it. In case things go badly, Blake, it was an honor taking up tooth and claw at your side.”
“Same here, Ursahn,” I said, and closed the channel.
“Punch it, Gwen. Miller, get ready to switch on the phasing system the moment we hit the rift. We want to come out on the far side invisible.”
“Got it. We’ll have to kill the engines just before we hit, however. I’ll need the power.”
“Let’s set up a script.”
We worked quickly, setting up a small program to do these operations within milliseconds. Sometimes, human reaction time wasn’t good enough to fly a starship.
After that, it was all over but the waiting. The rift grew and grew. Soon it became overwhelming, a bright glowing mass of warped space, looming inescapably before us.
In the final seconds before we struck the rift and plunged into it, I felt a thousand regrets. I wanted another few moments to breathe, to think clearly.
But those precious seconds were denied me. We entered the rift and traveled instantly to a different place.
It was like being pushed off a cliff. Once we were falling, there was no turning back.
=43=
We came through to the other side phased-out. Just managing that trick had apparently taken Dr. Abrams months of fine tuning.
The man was a true and dedicated genius, no matter how odious his personality was. Every time we phased in and out, I gave thanks to him. Hammerhead was a great achievement. He’d advanced Earth’s chances to compete among the stars ten-fold.
Even as I had these fleeting thoughts, I heard Abrams voice in my mind. He was using his sym to contact me privately.
“Yes, Doc?” I said. “I’m here, but can it wait? I’m kind of busy.”
“My sensors have improved,” he said, ignoring my attempts to put him off. “We can ‘see’ while phasing a little more clearly. For example, I know you’ve taken us back to the Ral system.”
I froze. I’d been about to cut him off, but instead I sat there, ramrod straight in my chair, trying to grasp what he was saying.
“Blake?” he asked. “You’re still there, aren’t you?”
“How do you know we’re back to Ral?” I asked him.
“Gravitational cross-referencing,” he said. “You have to wait for light waves to bounce around a system to read something like radar, but gravity is always there. There’s no delay. By applying the relative pattern of tugs from all the local centers of mass—removing the ship itself from the equation, of course—my software is able to—”
“You’re sure?” I demanded. “This is the Ral system? Chang barely has the spectral class of the local star figured out.”
“Compare it to Ral,” Abrams said with utter confidence. “You’ll find it’s a perfect match.”
I checked with Chang, and my heart sank when he nodded. “How did you know, Captain Blake?” he asked.
I ignored him and spoke to Abrams again. “You nailed it,” I told him. “Thanks—keep up the good work.”
“I’ve only just begun a redesign of our sensor arrays. Based on a theory of—”
Cutting him off, I felt no malice in my heart. What I felt was something more like panic.
“Chang, I’m going to relay Abrams’ data to you. Start using it to give us a picture of our relative position.”
“Relative to the enemy, sir?”
I nodded.
Chang began working on it, and his expression darkened. “We’re far from the Hunter,” he said. “About three AU. But the cruiser is very close. They appear to have stopped moving. They must have braked hard the second they plunged through the rift.”
“Right…” I said. “They’re using our stealth against us. The enemy captain must have expected us to follow. They know we’re half-blind while phasing.”
When phasing, it was still possible to see bright energy sources, such as a ship’s engines, or large gravitational tugs like planets and stars. But ships that sat in space, cold lumps of metal that were quietly doing nothing—they were almost as invisible to us as we were to them.
Abrams new data analysis of the sensor input had helped locate the enemy this time, however. They were out there, stalking us.
“Range to enemy target?” I asked.
“About fifty thousand miles.”
In astronomical terms, we were right on top of each other. With no obstacles or atmosphere to get in the way, missiles and radiation beams could easily reach out and touch another vessel at this range. It wasn’t quite point-blank, but it would be hard to miss.
“You think she sees us?” I asked Miller.
“It’s unlikely,” he replied. “If only because if she could, she would have fired by now.”
I nodded, remembering our own experiences with phase-ships. “They might know we’re here, though. There was a measurable wobble in the rift when the Imperials sent ships through.”
“There’s something more pressing to worry about, Captain,” Gwen said.
“What’s that?”
“The rift—it’s closing already.”
That got my heart pumping. “Come about. Full thrust back toward the rift. We’re done enough scouting.”
“They might see us, Captain!” Miller called out. “Full thrust isn’t advisable.”
“Neither is being trapped alone in this system with a heavy cruiser and the Hunter.”
They shut up after that, keeping their objections to themselves. We performed the sharp turn under Gwen’s steady hands, then we applied powerful thrust. The anti-grav system was off, as in order to run the engines at full and the phasing system we couldn’t afford the power.
The G-forces applied to our bodies were cruel. We were wearing supportive pressure suits that automatically squeezed our extremities until they were partially numb. That kept the blood from pooling in our feet and hands, keeping us conscious.
The experience wasn’t pleasant, but we survived a full three minutes of heavy thrust, and that reversed our forward momentum back toward the rift.
“It’s going to be a close thing, Captain,” Miller said, his eyes rolling around.
We were all using only our fingers on our armrests to operate our interfaces. They’d been built to function even if we were almost pinned down. My sym helped me as well, interpreting my desires and turning them into a logical sequence of computer commands. It was nowhere near as smooth or accurate as using a touchscreen or a mouse, but it was the best we could do under the circumstances.
“I think we’re going to make it, Captain,” Miller said through gritted teeth.
“We are going to make it,” Samson grunted out.
I dared to hope as the rift became visible again and slowly began to grow in size. Since we were phasing it was only a projection, not a true image. But I still took comfort in its growing proximity.
“Captain!” Chang called out from ops. “We’ve got contacts closing. Closing fast.”
“Missiles?”
“They have to be.”
I glanced at Gwen, and Miller. They looked wild-eyed and scared.
“They saw our exhaust trail. It’s too long, and it must have extended past our phasing field.”
“Two choices,” Miller grunted out the words, “we can run or try to slip away. I suggest we come out of phasing, and crank up our shields in case the missiles catch us.”
“That will put us in their sights!” objected Gwen. “They’ll burn us with radiation. Right now, they’re probably firing beams at us in a pattern, trying to get lucky in our probability-cone.”
She was talking about blind pot-shots coming from our pursuer. We couldn’t see them due to the fact we were phasing, but it was a logical presumption that they were sizzling by us even now. Each shot was deadly without our shields, and at any moment we could be taken out.
The pressure mounted, and I read the data closely. The missiles—there were eight of them we could detect—were closing fast. There was no way we’d make it to the rift before they reached us and detonated.
When that happened, it all depended on how close the warheads were to our hull when they went off. If they were direct hits, we’d be destroyed. If it was a close thing, we’d be irradiated, and there would be heavy casualties.
Running the numbers quickly in my mind, I didn’t like the odds. I couldn’t calculate the situation precisely, but I guesstimated it was fifty-fifty we were going to catch a deadly strike in the next minute or so.
Cursing, I ripped off my helmet. “Ease off our thrust to one gravity. Swing hard at right angles to our current course. We’re running.”
They crew hastened to obey. It was touch-and-go for another few minutes, but then the missiles and beams were left safely behind. At our greatly reduced speeds, they’d lost track of us.
The crew was obviously relieved. They smiled and breathed deeply. We were all going to see another day.
But as the rift faded and dispersed, leaving us stranded in the Ral system, I had to wonder.
Had I made the right choice? Or had I merely delayed our inevitable doom?
=44=
Killer had no idea where we were now. Presumably, Ral was the last location they would search. They knew as well as we did what was waiting for them here.
“Any captain would assume this ship was destroyed,” Miller said. “We have to proceed as if Ursahn has made that assumption.”
“Agreed,” Gwen said.
“Then we’re on our own,” I told them. “We’ll behave accordingly. We’ll tail the cruiser and look for a chance to take her out.”
For the next several hours, Hammerhead glided close behind her prey. We’d been phasing since the moment we’d arrived in the Ral system. The enemy cruiser had almost caught us then—but she’d failed to swing shut the jaws of her trap fast enough.
The cruiser soon changed course, heading toward the next world in line. Perhaps her captain suspected we were still lurking around. We followed quietly, as we had before.
“Captain? I think you’d like to see this.” Chang said, directing my attention to the forward projections.
I saw immediately what he was pointing at. The Hunter had finished its meal, spitting chunks of rock the size of asteroids from its posterior, and headed for the next planet closer to the star. Hammerhead, the cruiser we were tailing, and the automated ship were all heading toward the last world before Ral herself.
“I don’t understand,” I said in frustration. “If they want to kill the people of Ral, why not just direct the Hunter to go there and get it over with?”
“That must not be their only goal,” Chang said. “I find the situation intriguing. The Imperial ship seems to be ignored by the Hunter, and it acts more like an observer than a controlling shepherd.”
I shook my head, got out of my chair and paced the deck.
“If the Hunter isn’t under their control,” Gwen said, “why are they heading to that planet? Do you think they know we’re stalking them?”
“Of course they know,” I said, “they spotted us when we arrived, and they know we never left. They’re probably getting nervous. They’ll hug up to their Hunter for protection.”
My words were a brave front, designed to hide my real concerns. Possibly, the enemy was frightened—but they could also be planning another trap.
It didn’t matter which case was the true one. We had to act now, regardless. Ral was too close now, and she was still helpless.
“Steady-on, helmsman,” I said to Dalton. “Get us as close as we can without tipping off this monster.”
He was back at the wheel and doing an excellent job—but he didn’t seem to be completely convinced of the wisdom of our plan.
“Bloody suicide,” he muttered. “We’d do better crashing into her hull, if you ask me.”
“Do you wish to be relieved, Dalton?” Gwen asked promptly.
“No, Lieutenant,” he said, and he finally shut up.
We didn’t want to push our engines too hard as we chased after the Hunter, as that had gotten us spotted in the first case. But our rate of gain was too slow.
“Chang, plot our intercept point,” I ordered.
He did, and I frowned. “That’s much closer to Ral-2 than I would expect. How are we losing ground?”
“Well, Captain… The enemy vessel is accelerating, and she’s increasing her rate of acceleration. This projection accounts for that.”
I stood there, staring at the retreating fantail of the enemy.
“She’s luring us in,” Miller said. “She wants us to slowly increase power until we give ourselves away. If we blaze after her at full acceleration, she’ll be able to see us.”
“Right,” I said. “Dalton, give her some slack and shift our course. We’ll parallel her, lagging behind. That way we’ll be less visible and we won’t be where she’ll think to look first.”
Dalton did as I asked. Fortunately, there was little chance of losing the enemy ship. It was true that tracking something the size of a ship while phasing was harder than doing so while traveling in open space. At the same time, the enemy cruiser was easier to see because she was accelerating so hard.
“What kind of game is their captain playing?” I asked no one in particular.
Miller came to stand next to me to give his advice. Gwen glanced up at that, twisting her lips in disgust. It was obvious to everyone Miller wanted his old job back.
“I have a theory about that, Captain,” he said. “If I may?”
“Go for it.”
“I think he’s trying to get us to reveal ourselves—if it’s true, he’ll soon vanish.”
“Miller…careful that you don’t get out of your depth.”
“Sir!” Dalton called. “I’ve lost the cruiser.”
I glanced back to Miller, who looked insufferably pleased with himself.
“All right… Where did he go?” I asked.
“Nowhere,” Miller said promptly. “He’s still there, but he’s coasting now.”
“Yes…” Chang said, working his computer. “He could be. We’re now at a distance that won’t allow us to see a ship except by her exhaust plume. At this range when she cut her engines and began coasting, she became invisible to us.”
I narrowed my eyes and looked over the instruments. “Why now? How did you predict this action of theirs so precisely, Miller?”
“Simple tactics. They first ran ahead, knowing we could only keep up by giving ourselves away. But since we didn’t, they were able to deduce that we were either not following them—or we’d decided not to speed up. Which meant we were lagging behind.”
“Which meant they could power down their engines,” I said thoughtfully. “Now they’re running as invisibly to us as we are to them. Chang?” I called, turning to his station. “Assuming they are coasting, can you accurately predict their path?”
He worked on the problem for a minute or so before answering. I felt antsy, but I didn’t interrupt. Chang liked to take the time to give me accurate answers, not guesses.
“Not reliably,” he said. “Small amounts of thrust aren’t detectable to us—amounts that a steering jet would emit, for example.”
“So they could be gently curving their course right now, moving off by a few degrees? How long until we might lose them entirely, presuming they’re doing so right now?”
“A few hours.”
“I’m not waiting that long,” I said. “Miller, stand-by on the phasing unit. We’re going to break into normal space, then phase out again and evade the moment we get a fix on her.”
“But sir,” Dalton said. “What’s to keep her from doing this again? Are we going to blink in and out every hour to keep track?”
I shrugged. “Maybe so. A fix now will keep us informed. If we appear only briefly, we’ll give them less information than they’re giving us.”
My crew didn’t like it, I could tell. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to lose the enemy cruiser. It was the only ship in the system we had the faintest hope of destroying.
Miller cleared his throat. “Ready to phase-in?” he asked, his finger hovering over his screens.
“Dr. Chang, are you ready to get your snap-shot from our sensor array?”
“It’s powered up and ready to go.”
“All right,” I said. “This is it. Cut engines, Dalton. Cut all external emissions.”
“Done.”
“Now,” I said, “phase us back in, Ensign Miller. The minute we have a fix, phase out again.”
We phased-in. The enemy ship was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t surprising. A warship looked pretty small when you were ten thousand miles away from it.
Using the sensors and my sym, I attempted to “see” the cruiser. I cast in the direction of the planet we were heading toward, then widened the search somewhat.
“I’ve got a fix, Captain,” Chang said after about twenty seconds.
He swiped, transferring the coordinates to me. I caught them and used my sym to follow them.
The cruiser zoomed in with sickening speed. She was off-course, running at about a ten degree angle. That didn’t seem like much, but at high speeds and long distances, ten degrees quickly turned into the width of a gas giant in space.
“Phase out, Miller!” I ordered. “Phase out!”
“Still cycling, sir,” he said calmly.
“Dammit,” I said, watching the enemy ship. We were smaller, and we were searching passively, but we were almost as easy to spot as they were.
“Phasing out,” Miller announced at last.
I cursed loudly just before the change in our state was completed. The crew all looked at me, startled.
“They saw us,” I said with certainty. “They fired a missile just before we phased out again.”
Dalton shrugged. “That’s no disaster, Captain,” he said. “The missile will never hit us at this range.”
“No, the missile was just to keep us ducking. But this also means they know we’re tailing them. And they know their gambit worked—they flushed us out.”
While they absorbed this, I went back thinking hard. In short order, I grew tired of this, and made an announcement.
“Miller, prepare to phase in again.”
They all looked at me in shock. It was the greatest fear of all phase-ship drivers to know they were exposed. They were much more comfortable while invisible in a ghostly state of partial non-existence.
“That’s right,” I said. “When we appear, I want us to send a data-blip to Ral. We’ll inform them we’re here, and they’ll be rescued soon.”
Gwen looked at me as if I’d gone mad. It was a familiar expression.
“Isn’t that a cruel trick, Captain?” she asked. “Those people must be desperate.”
“It’s a trick, but it’s meant to upset the Imperials, not the people of Ral. Think about it: If we have the balls to pursue a larger ship, and then we come into the clear to get a fix and announce to Ral help is on the way—well, do you think the Imperials might become nervous?”
She nodded slowly. “They might,” she admitted. “They might indeed. From what I remember of their personalities, they were arrogant, but not terribly brave.”
“Right,” I said. “Their bravery was like that of duck-Hunters. The ducks are supposed to quack and die when shot—not turn around and pull them out of their boats, ripping their throats out.”
She smiled at the idea, and I smiled back.
“Phasing in, Captain,” Miller said.
We sent our message, and phased out again. Dalton dove away at a semi-random angle without being told to do so.
Whatever else my crew was, they were constantly becoming more capable and experienced. I just hoped it would be enough.
=45=
A few hours later, my staff sat around a small table. Everyone looked glum, and the curved metal walls of the conference room were tight around us, making the space feel even more cramped than it was.
We’d been running silently, phased-out, for what felt like a long time now. We were still trailing the cruiser, but we’d never gotten a good opportunity to attack her.
“We’re on our own,” Miller said. “Whatever else we are, we have to accept that.”
“I agree,” I said. “If Ursahn hasn’t come here by now, she probably won’t until time runs out. At that point she’ll feel honor-bound to follow Fex’s final, suicidal orders.”
“You think she’ll come here to battle the Hunter alone?” Gwen asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe she’ll bring help. It doesn’t matter, because it’s unlikely she can defeat the Hunter. For now, we’re stuck here, hidden in a system with two Imperial vessels that totally outclass us. What I need is an ingenious idea as to how we should proceed.”
Abrams, Gwen and even Miller frowned at the conference table. It was depicting a layout of local space. The central star and each surviving planet were displayed. There was only one world left between the Hunter and Ral itself.
Annoyed with their silence, I brought my fist down on the imagery. It wavered and vanished.
“Forget the map,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
Gwen answered first. Maybe she thought it was her duty as she was my acting XO.
“We have to wait for the enemy to make a mistake,” she said.
“A mistake?” I asked. “Like what?”
“They might drop their shields to send a shuttle down to a planet—or perhaps to collect some stolen material. They’ve been hanging around the next planet in line for destruction for more than a day.”
Abrams cleared his throat. I looked at him hopefully.
“I would council action,” he said, “rather than inaction.”
“Interesting, Doc…” I said, brightening. “So you think we should attack, regardless of the risks?”
Abrams looked startled. “Good heavens, no! An attack would be suicide. And even if we could destroy the cruiser, the people of Ral would still be on the Hunter’s menu.”
“So what, then?”
“We have to blow up that machine. It’s essentially a giant mining robot. It digests worlds rather than damaging them with energy releases. It grinds them down to rubble.”
“We’ve seen it in action,” Gwen said. “How do we stop it?”
“By giving it something it can’t digest,” he said. “A device of such great power its internal machinery is destroyed.”
“What would that take?” I asked.
“A fusion weapon might not do it… I’d think anti-matter would be superior. A full conversion from mass to energy. It would take no more than a few grams of prime material to do the trick, laid carefully like bait in the monster’s path.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” I declared. “Where do we get the antimatter, Doc?”
“That is the difficult part,” he admitted. “To process it would take several years, provided we had a powerful enough collider—which we don’t. There might be such an installation on Ral, but I’ve yet to find one in the data core.”
We all stared at him for a few seconds, but I was the first one to get mad.
“What?” I demanded. “You’ve got nothing!”
“Untrue!” he said, ruffling up immediately. “I’ve just presented you with a completely workable course of action—in theory.”
“I don’t need theories, Doc. I need an actionable plan!”
He sat back, crossed his arms, and glowered at the table. “You asked for a solution, and I gave you one.”
“But it’s not something we can actually implement, Dr. Abrams,” Gwen said gently. She turned to me thoughtfully. “Maybe we can reprogram the Hunter, Leo. The way we did the Imperial fleets during the last invasion.”
I shook my head slowly. “We’ve been trying to contact that behemoth. It ignores everything we send. I haven’t seen so much as a log-in screen from it.”
Everyone looked depressed for a moment—except for Dr. Abrams, that was. He was still annoyed, as if I’d wronged him somehow by pointing out his theories were worthless.
Still, Gwen’s idea—and even Abrams’ impossible scenario—had merit. She was right: if we couldn’t do battle with this monster, we should try to change its artificial mind. Abrams had presented the idea of getting it to consume something disagreeable…
“I’ve got an idea…” I said suddenly. “A real one this time.”
Abrams gave me a sour glance. “Let’s hear it, Blake. We could all use a laugh.”
“What if we sneak close with Hammerhead? It’s an AI-driven machine. I doubt it’s been programmed to look for phase-ships.”
“That’s a dangerous presumption,” Abrams said.
“No… it’s probably true,” Miller said, speaking up for the first time. “Why would they design it to search for something so small that represented no threat?”
“Right,” I said. “So, we should be able to get close. Now, expanding on Gwen’s idea, we need to change its targeting choices. Even just a course-shift that got it to pass Ral by a few degrees would be enough.”
“Ah!” Abrams said, coming to life. “I see the situation clearly now—you wish to steal my idea and give me none of the credit for it. Unnecessary, Blake. I would have given you the rights to use my ideas without this ham-handed grandstanding.”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Doc.”
“Of course not…” he said, leaning back with a smug expression. “By all means, Blake, continue playing the fool—you do it so well. What I’m saying is that you’ve combined Gwen’s thoughts and mine into a single plan of action—then immediately took all the credit.”
“I have to admit,” I said. “You and Gwen did present pieces of this puzzle. That’s why we have these meetings.”
“Wait a minute,” Miller said. “We’re calling this a plan? How are we going to implement it? I get the part about sneaking up on the Hunter—as suicidal as that sounds. But how would someone get aboard and disable or reprogram it from there?”
From that point on, the meeting took on a new life. We had the basis for action. A goal, at least, that sounded like it might work. We soon were buried in the technical details of landing a squad of spacers on the back of this monster and somehow gaining access to the interior.
The whole thing seemed insane to me when I looked at it objectively. But there was a populated world out there hanging in the balance. A world that had already lost all its ships and now lay helpless, awaiting destruction.
What difference did it make if we risked our lives if we had a chance to save billions of innocents?
=46=
By the following day we’d stopped phasing in to send messages and get fixes on the cruiser. They knew we were here, and they were never going to let down their guard enough for us to damage them.
Instead of chasing the warship, we began coasting and braking gently. We were maneuvering into the path of the Hunter. It was risky, but I felt it was the only play I had left to save Ral—and to save Mia.
When the hour came, I stepped onto the bridge again and took the command chair. I reviewed the night’s watch notes, and found them uninteresting. Moving them to the log folder with a flick of my index finger, I sat back and stared at the looming contact on our scopes.
The automated Hunter was such a behemoth, so gigantic in size, she had a gravitational pull that was a measurable two percent of earth-normal. That made her easy to spot as she drew us ever closer, growing in our view every hour.
We drifted under her unarmored belly and inverted ourselves. Our ship and the Hunter were now belly-to-belly, drifting slowly closer.
To say the bridge crew was nervous would be to grossly understate the case. They looked like cats in a dog kennel. They even took care when they moved around the bridge as if worried the giant that loomed near might overhear.
Everyone was quiet, that was, except Samson.
“This is great!” he said, beaming. “I’ve been getting sooo sick of sitting on this ship. We’re finally going to do something!”
“That’s right,” I said. “Who volunteers to accompany me aboard the Hunter?”
“Me!” boomed Samson.
“Great! Now, I need a technical team… hmm…”
The rest were silent, studying their boards. It was time for a military-style process of “volunteering” to begin.
“Excellent, Gwen,” I said. “I need your technical expertise with their computer systems.”
“Me?” she said in a voice that was almost a squeak, but she quickly recovered. “I’d be glad to join the team.”
“With Dr. Abrams as well, that will round out a team of four,” I said.
This seemed to startle people.
“He said he wanted to go?” Gwen asked.
“Yes. The last time we had a private meeting, he irritated the shit out of me. I decided right then and there he was getting assigned to the next suicide mission I cooked up.”
This statement gathered a number of chuckles. Dr. Abrams wasn’t loved on the bridge.
Gwen looked down, almost ashamed. “Captain, as your XO, I would normally—”
“…be left behind to drive the ship. I know, but I need you as a tech. Miller, you have command while I’m gone. No fair sealing the airlocks while we’re away, either.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain,” he said smoothly.
After that, it was all over except for the crying—Abrams did the crying.
“This is patently absurd, Blake!” he complained as we frog-marched him down to the sally-ports.
“What’s wrong, Doc?” I asked. “Don’t you want to get your feet wet now and then? I think it will do you good. You’ll get stale if you spend all your time cooped up in that lab.”
“I’m needed! I have a possible answer to our Imperial hacking problem!”
That made me halt. I looked him over.
“Really?” I asked. “You’re not just lying to save yourself for another hour?”
“Hardly,” he said. “And I never lie.”
“Right,” I scoffed. “I’ve seen your expense reports.”
“Those are confidential!”
Gwen and I exchanged amused glances. She knew I was bullshitting, and she enjoyed the fact that Abrams was taking everything literally.
We suited him up while he squawked. Once he was in the bag, his suit continued to cinch itself up tight, making him look even skinnier than usual.
“This is highly irregular,” he complained. “Are you accustomed to abusing key personnel like this?”
He was asking me, but Samson answered. The big man wore a grin that had been pasted there since we’d begun our efforts to shanghai Abrams.
“I do it all the time, Doc,” Samson said. “Ask anybody. Now, quit freaking out. If this thing kills us, it will probably be quick.”
“Is that supposed to mollify me?” Abrams asked.
The odd thing was, he did settle down after that. We all climbed into a pod and were released with a hiss of escaping gas. The pod was a tiny survival ship that was rather like Hammerhead herself, but much smaller and less capable.
The pod drifted down, and we guided it entirely with puffs of gas from the steering jets. We’d decided we shouldn’t alert the monster by giving it a spike of energy it could easily detect.
It was an odd feeling to be sneaking up on a ship the size of a moon. Hammerhead itself was phasing, of course, but as we left her surrounding field, we automatically phased-in. The pod was built to survive that transition without hopelessly scrambling our molecules during the process.
Only when we were outside the field could we clearly see the size of the Hunter. The enemy ship was beyond enormous. It wasn’t like a ship at all. It had a hull so large and thick it was more like the crust of a planet than an artificially built vessel.
The surface below us was uneven, and dirty. Boulders, rubble and dust coated the otherwise smooth hull.
“She’s messy when she eats,” Samson said over our group intercom.
We were linked via a wired system so as to keep our transmissions to a minimum. A thin cord connected each of us. Samson was at one end, me at the other, with Gwen and Abrams in the middle.
I was piloting, and it wasn’t easy. The pod steered like a shopping cart with jets attached. We wallowed and wobbled as we descended and glided a few feet from the rocks.
“Careful,” Gwen said, “I see a big one ahead.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I told her. “Look for an aperture. There were several vents along this section, according to our analysis.”
“That’s conjecture,” Dr. Abrams said bitterly. “You’ve killed us, Blake. Admit it. You thought you saw striations along this seamless monstrosity, but they were clearly imagined. We might as well be searching for Lowell’s fabled Martian canals.”
None of us answered him, because he might be right. Faced with the reality of what we were currently doing, it did seem like madness.
We’d left a perfectly good ship behind to venture here on an impossible task. The sheer enormity of this ship had me doubting myself. How could we hope to stop this monster?
“Keep your eyes open,” I said calmly, revealing none of my internal doubts. They wouldn’t have done the others any good anyway.
We traveled along the scored and pitted hull for about fifteen minutes without finding anything resembling the vents I’d seen from Hammerhead. By that time, the group had grown sullen. They were no longer talking much, not even Dr. Abrams.
With each passing minute, Abrams seemed to become happier. Marveling, I soon came to realize he was pleased to have his gloom and doom predictions proven right. The man wouldn’t mind dying to prove a point.
“There’s something!” Gwen cried out, pointing into the distance.
Despite the fact the ship was very large, it did have a visible horizon that was only a few miles off. Without asking for details, I directed our pod in the direction she’d indicated. We only had sixty pounds of propellant left. It wouldn’t last forever. After we ran out, we’d be down to using our own breathable air to fly further.
“That’s too far,” Abrams complained immediately. “It can’t be a vent.”
Samson turned to glower at him. “Doc, you should really just shut up. We’re all in this together, you know.”
Abrams sneered, but he did shut up.
Ten more precious minutes went by. We’d agreed to return to Hammerhead for extraction after two hours. The number had been arbitrary, but I thought it should be plenty of time.
“I don’t get it,” I said, “the vents should be right here. They were on our scopes—you saw them yourself, Abrams.”
“I detected something visually,” he admitted, “but you leapt to the conclusion it was an opening in the hull. What if it was only a dark streak? It could have been a mere stain on this endless vessel—a region that reflects marginally less sunlight.”
He was right, of course. While phasing, it was rather like looking at the world from underwater. You could make out shapes and motion, but there was plenty of confusing interference that made solid identification of objects difficult.
We continued gliding doggedly, but suddenly things changed under us. The hull shifted, opening up long trenches.
“We’ve been seen!” Abrams cried, his voice cracking high. “Oh, how I hate you, Blake. I knew from the first you’d be the death of this crew.”
“Shut up,” Samson said.
“The crack—it’s artificial, and has a gentle curve to it,” Gwen said, her voice shaking a little. “Look forward, then aft. It’s like a long, even trench line that twists over the surface.”
“I see another one, over there!” Samson said, pointing.
We all looked, and we could see the edge of it. A mound of debris shifted in the silence of space, falling into the black dark interior of the Hunter.
“I get it now,” I said. “This isn’t a trench, or a canal. This is an opening. It spirals around with many others—we’re looking at the grooves of a giant drill.”
Open-mouthed, the others examined the evidence. Once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it. The conclusion was inescapable.
As we watched, the grooves expanded and deepened until each became a vast abyss. These channeled grooves served at the Hunter’s jaws. When attached to a victim, they madly churned entire planets down an endless gullet.
“We must be nearing the next planet,” Abrams said. “This ship has opened its jaws, and it’s preparing to feast on yet another world.”
No one argued with him, because we couldn’t. The situation was as obvious as it was disturbing.
=47=
With a twist of the controls, I sent us descending into the groove under us.
“What are you doing?” Abrams demanded.
“What we came here to do. I’m infiltrating this ship.”
“You’re feeding us into the jaws of a monster!” he exclaimed. “They could close up again at any moment, or start spinning, or ram us into the planet’s crust and grind us to atoms!”
“All true,” I admitted. “But how else do you enter the belly of a beast, Doc? The only way into a shark is through its mouth.”
The group was wide-eyed as we descended into the trench and darkness swept over us. The interior was as black as tar. The sky above glowed with millions of stars that watched without pity. We couldn’t help but glance up at them with longing.
We found the bottom about a mile down. It was so dark there, we had to run the pod’s external lights in order to see anything.
What we found surprised us.
“That’s an artificial object,” Gwen said.
“The whole thing is artificial, Lieutenant,” Dr. Abrams said in a condescending tone.
She glanced at him, then tapped his helmet and pointed. He looked at what she was indicating, and he frowned.
“What have we got?” I asked them.
“It appears to be… some kind of clothing,” Abrams said.
We got closer, and Gwen manipulated the pod’s external arm. The object was brought close to our hull and we examined it through the pod’s transparent hull. We all peered at it in wonderment.
“It’s a glove,” Abrams said. “A silver glove. What in God’s name is it doing down here?”
“I’ve seen things like this before,” I said. “That’s an Imperial glove. Their military types wear such things. Get it into the pod.”
“What?” Abrams exclaimed. “Are you mad? It might have an identifying chip, or a warning beacon—even a booby trap of some kind.”
Samson made a rude noise with his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Doc. No one is this kind of chicken-shit. Nobody.”
Abrams pursed his lips tightly and said nothing.
Gwen retrieved the glove, and we found it was bloody around its sheared-off end.
“The hand is still inside the glove,” Gwen said. “Whatever Imperial lost it, they probably died here.”
“You think so?” Abrams snorted sarcastically. “I still say that thing might be diseased.”
We examined the glove closely using the pod’s instruments. Abrams led this effort, despite his complaints. He quickly found identifying marks. They amounted to a series of shapes like cubes with various parts missing. I recognized it as Imperial writing. They wrote with long sequences of geometric shapes. They reminded me of QR codes on Earth.
We searched the region further, and found several artifacts that appeared to be from an Imperial spacecraft. That had us all scratching our heads.
“So,” I said. “This thing has crunched up Imperials as well? It’s not just us who are playing the victims?”
“I thought these ships were controlled by the Imperials,” Gwen said.
“That was what Fex told us,” I said, “but Fex tells lies.”
“Or,” Abrams said, “he possibly has no idea what the truth may be.”
“Right…” I said, guiding the pod upward again.
The sky looked distant, but it grew steadily as we ascended.
“Where are we going now?” Samson asked.
“Back to Hammerhead,” I said. “We’ll wait at the rendezvous point until she extracts us.”
“I would rejoice,” Abrams said, “if I didn’t suspect you’ve come up with a fresh way to kill us all.”
Gwen studied me.
“Captain?” she asked. “We haven’t found any kind of real access to the interior. We haven’t really found anything other than the remains of an Imperial ship.”
“Wrong,” I said, “we’ve discovered the true nature of this Hunter.”
Abrams rolled his eyes at me. “Such thin evidence. You leap to unsound conclusions, Blake. It’s your greatest failing among many.”
I turned to him. “What’s your theory, then? Why did we find this Hunter has been chewing up Imperials just like it’s been chewing up our planets?”
“You’re saying these Hunters aren’t controlled by the Imperials. That’s why they’ve been keeping their distance—not to control, but to observe a dangerous enemy.”
“It seems clear to me,” I said.
“But why aren’t the Hunters attacking the Imperial ships then?” Gwen asked. “This machine should have attacked their cruiser—it would have attacked one of ours.”
I pointed a finger at her. “Right. That’s what interests me now. This Hunter will destroy whichever enemy ship comes near. Methodically destroying entire star systems from the outside inward… But it’s ignoring their cruiser—why?”
“That part is obvious,” Abrams said. “They must be giving off some kind of signal. Some kind of friend-or-foe blip the Imperials have managed to imitate—that is, if your theory is correct in the first place.”
Samson narrowed his eyes and stared up at the stars above us. “Rat-fuckers,” he said.
“What’s that?” Abrams asked.
“Rat-fuckers. That’s what they are. They have tech that could save our worlds, but they don’t care enough to give it to us. Instead, they follow around at a safe distance, watching the show.”
None of us answered him, because he could well be right. The Imperial Kher were not known for their compassion.
We used the last of the pod’s propellant to rise above the Hunter and drift at a safe altitude. At last, space around us seemed to waver.
“Hammerhead is close,” I said. “Hold on.”
We plunged into a warped region, and we vanished from normal space. We soon came to synchronize our phasing with theirs—or rather, to be consumed by the phasing region Hammerhead was generating around her hull.
After a few more minutes, we were aboard our ship and climbing stiffly out of the pod. Its interior had been beyond cramped, and we were left to stretch out on the decks with tingling limbs.
Taking the specimen box with the silver glove we’d found, I walked up to the bridge and joined my crew.
Miller got up stiffly. “Good to see you again, Blake,” he said.
Terms like “captain” and “sir” were gone. I decided to let it slide this time. Perhaps he’d had his heart set on us never returning. In that case, it was enough just to disappoint him.
We left the Hunter behind, and when we were at a safe distance, we applied maximum thrust.
“Dalton, take us to that next planet. Zero in on that cruiser and fly right at her.”
He glanced at me appreciatively. “We going to war, Captain?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“All right then. We’ll give those posh bastards something to think about before we’re brought down.”
I glanced at him, but I said nothing. My mind was whirling, thinking about the implications of what we’d learned.
“Gwen, take the watch,” I said, and I left the bridge.
When I found Abrams, he was in his lab hard at work. He had a few assistants with him that were listening to incoming signals. They all had headsets on, and they were studying displays of what looked like waveforms.
“What have you figured out, Abrams?” I asked.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re—”
“Cut the shit,” I said. “You’re trying to analyze everything that ship is sending out. What have you found?”
Abrams frowned, and he indicated his instrumentation. “Nothing in the normal emissions bands. No radiation. No radio. No lasers or energy releases… I’m intrigued.”
“What could it be, then?”
“I think it might be gravity,” he said, spinning around his chair toward me.
“Gravity?” I asked. “Like our anti-gravity technology?”
“Yes. The Imperial ship is giving off gravity signatures. That’s nothing unusual, but the strange part is they’re variable.”
“Explain.”
He crossed his arms and took on a superior air. “Do you promise to give me credit this time?”
“I’ll engrave a plaque with your name on it,” I said. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Well, if you think about it, one of the most consistent measurable constants in the universe is the gravitational influence of a nearby body. As long as you stay at the same distance from it, it will register as a flat line on any chart.”
“Right…” I said, looking around his lab. It wasn’t very big, no more than seven steps from wall to wall. “What’s the Imperial ship doing?”
“Its altering its gravitational influence—constantly changing what should be a steady signal.”
“What do you need to verify this theory?” I asked.
“We need to come back into phase. I need to measure them in the clear.”
“Done.”
I contacted the bridge and ordered Miller to phase-in. He did so after giving me a list of problems with the idea, which I completely ignored.
The moment we were in open space again, Abrams was using his instruments to get a reading on the enemy warship. It was indeed fluctuating in gravitational influence.
“Ah yes,” Abrams said, “I even impress myself sometimes. The cruiser is shrinking and growing—in a gravitational sense—every few seconds. It varies between the size of a ship and the size of the Hunter itself.”
“Interesting…” I said. “Does that confuse the Hunter? Or give it a secret signal not to attack?”
“Difficult to know.”
“Can we do the same thing?”
“We can. We were given a gravitational subsystem by the Rebel Kher to improve our ship’s performance, remember?”
“I do indeed. Monitor her pull for a few more minutes. When you have a good signature, we’ll phase out again. When we phase back in, I want you to have altered our anti-grav equipment, so that it imitates the Imperial ship. Can you do that?”
“Don’t doubt me.”
I left him to his work, and I went to the ship’s officer’s lounge. It was a small affair, with barely enough room for six around a table. It also doubled as our conference room when necessary.
The bar was strictly self-serve. I poured myself a double and sipped it, thinking about what all this meant.
Quite possibly, I’d found the key to our dilemma. But I was going to have to be sly about it. This wasn’t going to be easy.
=48=
Abrams worked all night to get the signal pattern isolated. When he contacted me at last, I was stretched out on my bunk.
Awakening with a snort, I sensed a tickling in my brain. My arm was pinned down, so I blearily attempted to move it.
When I did so, Robin rolled off my arm and onto the deck. She scrambled up with a squawking sound. She blinked at me accusingly.
“What the hell?” she asked. “You’re kicking me out of bed at 5 am?”
“Oh… sorry.”
The truth was I’d forgotten I’d gone to bed with her last night. I’d had a few, then she’d found me, and one thing had led to another.
Our bunks aboard the phase-ship were anything but roomy. She’d been lying in a tangle of limbs on her side, all snuggled up against me.
“Sorry?” she demanded. “That’s it?”
“I’ve got Abrams buzzing my brain,” I explained. “He startled me awake. Sorry.”
She wrapped a sheet around her breasts and began rummaging for her clothing.
“Sorry…” she grumbled.
In the meantime, Abrams was talking to me about technical details. He seemed excited. “It was a complex sequence that was simple to reproduce in the end. Based on a Fibonacci number sequence—a common occurrence in nature and science—the gravitational variances were subtle, but distinct.”
“That’s great, Doc,” I said. “Have you got the formula or not?”
“I’ve said as much. Are you distracted, Blake?”
I watched Robin pulling on her pants. Her butt lifted up as she squeezed herself into the pants and tapped the cinching pressure-spot. Damn, she liked to keep her clothes tight. She must be doing that on purpose.
“Yes, I’m distracted right now, Doc. I’ll get down to your lab as soon as I’m awake.”
“Very well. I’ll hook up an easy trigger you can toggle from the bridge.”
“Have you tested any of this yet?”
“Of course not. I must have your approval first.”
I thought about telling him to test it on his own. That would give me an hour, maybe, to make up with Robin. But in the end, I had to reject the idea.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll get to the bridge and contact you.”
Disconnecting from Abrams, I reached out and tried to loop my arm around Robin’s waist. I planned to pull her back into my lap, but she danced away.
“No way,” she said. “That’s not happening. I’ve been an idiot.”
“Come on, Robin...”
“You threw me out of bed, Leo!” she complained.
“I was sleeping.”
“Did you even remember I was in bed with you?”
She had that look in her eye. A suspicious stare that studied my reactions. She was like a lie-detector, this girl. Most people I could tell whatever I wanted—but not Robin. She was an investigative reporter and an accomplished liar in her own right.
“Come on,” I said again.
“That’s what I thought!”
She grabbed her stuff and left. I sighed and took a shower. Maybe it was for the best if we took a break. It was hard enough running a starship without being worried about a girlfriend.
And she’d been growing into more than just a casual fling lately. It had happened almost without my noticing. Whenever I was vulnerable—which was pretty much all the time when it came to her sweet face—she waltzed in and took advantage.
For some reason, her angry departure made me irritable. Usually, I was a guy who could let women come and go as they pleased. There were always more fish in the sea, as they say.
But this time I dressed and stalked the passages. A few early-risers and late-watch people made pleasant comments, to which I grunted in return.
I found Robin on the mid-deck, having a shower in the public chamber. She’d skipped bathing in my cabin. Standing in the doorway, I eyed her for a few seconds before speaking up.
“What’s a man supposed to do when an interesting lady like you comes along?” I asked loudly.
She squeaked and spun around.
“How long have you been staring at me?”
“I just got here.”
She compressed her lips into a thin line.
“Lies,” she said. “That’s the problem with you, Blake. You lie, lie, lie! That’s all you do!”
This attack took me by surprise. In response, I shed my clothing and walked into the shower chamber with her. There were eight showerheads, and they detected bodies automatically. Normally, the crew for any given shift showered together as a group. They weren’t given all day to do it, however. The water cut out about eight minutes after you entered, whether you wanted it to or not. You could get around this, of course, by moving to a different showerhead and tripping its sensors.
“I don’t want you in here,” Robin said.
“It’s a public space, and I need a shower after spending the night with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You want me to scrub your back? You’re missing a spot.”
She glared at me for a second, then turned around. I rubbed soap on her back, and she let me do it.
“You’re impossible, Blake,” she said. “I’ve never met anyone who’s as full of shit on a daily basis as you are.”
I rolled my eyes and almost managed to keep quiet. Robin was, without a doubt, the slipperiest eel of a woman I’d ever met.
“Maybe that’s our problem,” I said. “Maybe we’re too much alike.”
She spun around and studied my face. “What are you saying?”
“Uh… that we’re both naturally glib?” I said. “We tell people what they want to hear. It’s a defense mechanism.”
Robin turned away again, and I went back to slowly scrubbing. She didn’t seem to notice my hands were on her, not my own body.
“Yes…” she said thoughtfully. “We are alike. We’ve got people skills—different kinds, of course—but we’re both very good at getting what we want.”
“You know what I want right now?” I asked.
“Forget it.”
I shrugged, and we bathed together. She seemed to have settled down. Maybe it was the warm rushing water—it had a way of waking a person up and improving the worst of moods.
When we were toweling off, she kissed me suddenly. It wasn’t a big thing, just a peck on the cheek, but I knew it meant she was done hating me for now.
There wasn’t time for anything better in the making-up department. Instead, I headed to the labs on the lower deck, and I found Dr. Abrams waiting there impatiently.
“It’s about time, Blake,” he said. His skinny arms were crossed and his brows were knit together into a single line of bristling hair.
“Have you got the prototype ready?”
“Turn off the phasing system, and we’ll test it.”
“Do we have to phase-in?” I asked, disappointed.
“Yes. How else can we tell if it fools the Hunter?”
He had a point, so we headed for the bridge. When we got there I found Miller and the rest looking at us curiously. I was rarely late to my shifts.
“I have the watch, Ensign Miller.”
“The captain has the watch,” he said, getting out of my chair.
“Miller, man the phasing system. We’re turning it off shortly.”
The rest of the crew looked startled at the idea. They shook themselves and checked all their readings in alarm.
“No, there’s nothing dangerous going on,” I said. “We’re going to test a new kind of deception. If it works, we’ll have saved Ral.”
That got their attention. Miller flicked at floating icons over his station. “I see a message from you, Dr. Abrams.”
“Yes!” Abrams said. “Now, open it and install the attachment.”
Miller didn’t move. Instead, he looked at me. I nodded to confirm the suggestion.
Turning back to his console, Miller opened the message and installed Abrams’ software. It was a simple triggering mechanism that was supposed to engage our gravity-fluctuation software.
“What do I do with this?” Miller asked.
“Execute it,” Abrams said. “It’s not a virus. Have a little faith.”
Again, I nodded encouragement toward Miller. The large man listened and performed as he’d been instructed.
We phased fully back into the material universe, and I signaled Miller again. He applied the gravitational pulse device and—everything went mad.
“Turn it off!” Gwen screeched. She’d been pulled over backwards, and now was pasted to the floor. The rest of us had been seated, and we were less traumatically affected.
All over the ship, klaxons went off and warning lights spun. The churn in my guts was horrible. It felt as if bubbles were running through me. Hot bubbles that caused searing pain intermixed with tickles of intense pleasure.
Miller reached out a hand. It shook. I stared at him, my right eye blurring and then going blind entirely. What was this thing that Abrams had unleashed upon Hammerhead doing to my internal organs?
As I watched, Samson and Gwen lost consciousness. I had the greatest pity for Gwen. She’d been bent to the floor in the initial pulse, and I could see now that her knee was twisted up under her back at an impossible angle. It looked like it was broken—it had to be.
I tried to stand, but it was hopeless.
“Abrams!” I roared, losing vision now in my left eye as well. “What have you done to my ship?!”
But he couldn’t answer. He was twisted into a skinny pretzel, neck lolling oddly, tongue extended like a dead dog in a gutter. From the swollen red tip of that tongue a thread of saliva spiraled away, corkscrewing in the air until it touched the farthest bulkhead.
There was a sick, pulsing sensation, and my vision cleared enough to see again. With all my focus of will, I managed to turn back toward Miller. He was still trying to touch the icon on his console. His weaving finger slowly descended, as if he was pressing against a terrific, invisible force that sought to drive back his hand.
Would he make it? Would his touch turn off the effect if he did?
Were we all as good as dead anyway—our guts full of aneurisms and popped organs?
I lost consciousness with these thoughts drifting through my darkening mind.
=49=
When I awakened, I felt thoroughly drained and abused. I recalled this sensation from the past: it was like being shot senseless by disruptor fire in the pits aboard Killer.
That’s the only thing that convinced me I wasn’t in some sort of dark afterlife. I felt too much pain—and it seemed to emanate from inside me.
All around the bridge, people were vomiting on the decks, bleeding from every orifice and mumbling helpless curses.
Miller was out cold floating around the bridge with several of the others. With difficulty, I moved to his station and checked on the instruments. Abrams’ program had been shut down.
Moving back to my chair, I gave Abrams a stumbling kick. I hadn’t meant to do it, but Dalton chuckled weakly behind me.
“Give him an extra one from me,” he said.
I couldn’t blame him for the sentiment.
“Break out emergency medical supplies,” I said. “We’ve got a lot of internal bleeding. Everyone should drink a dose of meds.”
One thing we’d been given by the Rebel Kher was a form of universal curative. Really, it was cellular-growth stimulant. It amplified the natural production of new cells in the body, and allowed us to heal much faster than normal. Unfortunately, it did nothing to alleviate pain in the short run.
Those of us who were mobile crawled around the ship pouring liquids down every throat and into every open wound. Before I tended to Gwen, I straightened her broken bones while she moaned on the deck. Then I gave her a dose and moved on.
Abrams came last. His breath was raspy, and I felt a little sorry for him. After all, his gravity fluxer had worked—possibly, it had worked too well.
When Miller woke up, he was the first to think of a critical element the rest of us had forgotten about.
“Did anyone hit the phasing system?”
I looked at him in shock. “No, I don’t think so.”
We check the instrumentation. I tossed a projection of local space on the hull around us. Using my sym, I reached out, and I spotted first the Hunter—then the Imperial cruiser.
Both were bearing down on our position.
“Phase out!” I shouted.
“Phasing out!” Miller acknowledged.
I gritted my teeth, having no way of knowing if changing our physical state yet again might mean the death of us all.
We waited several seconds, without breathing, before I relaxed. At least the phasing system was still operating correctly.
“Dalton, give them the slip. Change our heading six times, once every minute, until they can’t possibly know where we’re going.”
“On it, Captain.”
Samson came awake soon after that. He got up groaning and rubbing at his left ear. There was a chunk of the lobe missing, and I tried not to let him know how bad that looked.
He soon figured it out anyway and howled in rage.
“Can I volunteer for a special duty, sir?” he asked me, panting.
“What’s that, Samson?”
“I’d like to eject that useless body into space, sir!” His finger stabbed down at Abrams, who was still inert on the deck.
I paused, considering. After all, the man had caused us all so much pain.
“No,” I said with a sigh at last. “That service won’t be necessary, Samson. Not yet, anyway.”
He laughed. “But you thought about it, didn’t you Captain?”
“I did indeed.”
We revived Abrams, and he mewed like a newborn kitten looking for its first meal. No one offered him any sympathy, not even Gwen.
“I don’t…” he began when he was again capable of speech. His tongue had taken some time to reel back into his mouth. “I don’t understand it…”
“Your lack of understanding is pretty obvious, Doc,” I said. “You blew it big-time. You almost took out my ship.”
“Yes… unfortunate and inexplicable. One of my underlings must have—”
“You idiot!” Samson roared, losing his cool. He grabbed Abrams by the neck and lifted him into a sitting position. “You see this, Doc? You see my ear? Half of it’s missing, Doc!”
“Samson…” I said warningly.
He dropped Abrams like a ragdoll.
“It wasn’t me,” he said. “It couldn’t have been me.”
“Why not?” I asked him.
“Because I don’t make mistakes like that. Something unknown magnified the effects. Somehow, a series of amplifications to our anti-gravity field were altered, turned into a much stronger pulse. The most we should have felt was a sensation not unlike having a touch of gas.”
“I felt that too,” Samson complained. “I think I shit my pants, in fact.”
“Regrettable,” Abrams said, still lying flat on his back.
“You mean about Samson’s pants?” I asked.
Abrams’ eyes swiveled blearily in my direction. “No,” he said. “It’s regrettable that we’ve got a saboteur aboard.”
Samson blew air through his mouth, making a rude sound. He headed below decks to clean up, and I didn’t try to stop him.
I squatted next to Abrams. “Are you able to get up?”
“Possibly,” he said, “but I’d rather lie right here. I’m letting my bones and organs knit back together. It’s advisable that everyone do the same. Moving around as little as possible will allow us all to recover faster.”
I relayed that suggestion to the bridge crew, then turned it into a general, ship-wide order.
When Abrams was up on his feet again, it was nearly an hour later. His tongue still seemed to be about an inch longer than it had been, and I wondered if the effect was going to be a permanent one.
“Okay Doc,” I said. “Let’s analyze what went wrong.”
“I’ve been working on that using my sym. Apparently that’s what went wrong.”
“What? I’m not following you.”
“Our syms. We aren’t fully fleshed humans any longer. We’re infected by a symbiotic organism. As closely as I can work out, the syms reacted very badly to my gravitational flux field. I didn’t detect or predict this result before in the labs because my test subjects were mice—without syms, you see.”
“How’s that possible? The syms are small in total volume. How could a few ounces of metal shavings and artificial flesh get so warped out of shape?”
He looked at me with bloodshot, puzzled eyes. “No, no, no,” he said. “That’s not what I meant at all. The syms went berserk, reacting to the confusing gravitational pulls in a wild fashion. It was our syms that caused us to lose our balance and burst our cell structure here and there.”
I considered what he was saying. I supposed it was possible.
“No saboteurs then?”
“On the contrary,” he said. “I think we were bested by an army of miniscule saboteurs. Millions of them, each the size of a single blood cell, did a great deal of damage.”
“Huh…” I said thoughtfully. “You mean we did this to ourselves?”
“Not exactly. It was more as if we drank alcohol until we blacked out—or spun on an amusement ride until we vomited.”
“I vomited and blacked out,” I said. “But I don’t recall having any fun first.”
Abrams struggled up to one elbow. I let him take his time.
“You see,” he said, “I’ve been reviewing bio records from crewmen all over the ship. Our syms felt the micro-alterations in gravity, and they overreacted. We were attacked from the inside, almost like an auto-immune effect.”
I shook my head, giving up on understanding the details behind it. I wasn’t entirely sure Abrams understood them either. He might have been on some kind of kick to blame anything other than himself.
“I’ll have to adjust our syms before the next trial,” Abrams said thoughtfully.
“The next what?” Gwen asked. “Leo, don’t let him do that again!”
I looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t want to, Gwen,” I admitted. “But we don’t have any other plays to make. This is all I’ve got. It’s either this, or we let Ral die while we watch.”
Dalton shook his head in disgust. He didn’t care about Ral—not much, at least. But Gwen was left thinking. She stared at the planets. Off to starboard, about a half an AU distant, was a large, bright planet.
We all knew it was the soft, blue-white world known as Ral. How could we forsake the billions who lived there in their hour of need?
Gwen closed her eyes and nodded. “I guess we have to try,” she said. “But please,
Doc, if you’re going to kill us, get it over with quickly, will you?”
He frowned at her.
“What nonsense! This single setback in no way indicates a failed concept. In fact, when one is applying the scientific method to an experimental field, early hiccups are only to be expected. Trust me, Lieutenant, I almost never make a serious mistake.”
“Right, Doc…”
=50=
I had to hand it to Abrams, once he could walk again, he worked like a devil with a tail-wind to fix his “setback”.
We were all limping around the decks, healing and complaining. It was one thing to have miraculous medical technology, but it was quite another to suffer the pain that came with the miracle. Sometimes, I thought dying outright might be a blessing in disguise.
“I’m envying heart attack victims about now,” Dalton said, echoing my sentiments.
“Yeah… any word from our mad scientist?”
“Nothing. He’s probably down there having a smoke in that posh lab of his.”
Gwen laughed, having overheard him. “I doubt that. I’ve been monitoring his activities. He hasn’t slept a wink since he regained consciousness. He’s working like a man possessed.”
“Like a man bereft of his senses, more like,” Dalton complained, but he finally shut up.
His attitude was common all over the ship. No one had actually died, but the gravitational freak-out we’d all suffered had left behind countless odd injuries. Some people had elongated limbs, dislocated joints or ruptured organs. We were all hurting, pissing blood and drinking our healing balms to ease our searing guts.
“Just a second,” Samson said as he came on duty some minutes later and strapped in. “Are we planning to let Abrams turn on his gravity effect again? I mean, seriously?”
“Only just worked that out, eh mate?” Dalton laughed. “We should have done it on the sly before you realized what was coming. Would have been a mercy.”
Samson punched Dalton, who scowled and rubbed his shoulder. Then Samson turned his glowering face toward me. “Is this insanity actually going to happen, sir?”
“I’m afraid so. Unless you have a better way of stopping that planet-eater. Look at it… it’s settling into its last appetizer before Ral.”
We all glanced at the projected visuals. Over the preceding hours, the Hunter had reached the next planet and attached itself to the surface. It was consuming the planet, farting out rocks and gases as it went.
“We’ve measured its output against its input,” Chang said conversationally. “I find it very odd, but the Hunter only releases ninety percent of the mass consumed as waste byproducts. These are ejected at speed from the tail-section, eventually forming a ring of debris in the orbit of the original planet.”
“Huh…” I said. “Maybe they’re making asteroid belts? For later ease of mining?”
“That’s speculation, but not outside the realm of the possible. What interests me more is what happens to the matter consumed but not ejected?”
“Could it be converting the mass to energy?” Gwen asked.
“Such a rate of conversion could only be accomplished by a continuous fusion of matter—there’s no trace of that level of energy being released.”
“Interesting…” she said. “Another mystery. The Rebel Kher did warn us that the Imperials had tech we’d never dreamed of. Perhaps this is an example of that sort of thing.”
I nodded, studying the terrifying image on the screen. The Hunter was devouring the planet whole. Already, it had dug a divot twenty miles deep into the crust. The internal heat of the planet didn’t seem to bother it, either. The advanced technology and sheer scale of the thing were daunting.
“The more I watch this monster in action,” I said, “the more I’m convinced that the Imperials only have marginal control of it, at best. For example, the Hunter always starts with the outer worlds and eats its way inward toward the star at the center of each system. That’s a very inefficient approach to wiping out populations of Kher, who are usually living on the innermost planets.”
“Perhaps we should contact them and give them a tip,” Dalton said sullenly.
He was being a smart-ass, but I didn’t chew on him about it. The situation was a difficult one. It seemed, in fact, to be unsolvable.
I made two more trips to the labs over the next hour. Dr. Abrams was working in a near delirium. He barely acknowledged my presence, and that only by waving a hand in my face, ushering me back out the hatch into the passages.
We were running out of time, but I didn’t have any better options, and he seemed to be on-task. I decided to let him work.
Thinking about Robin and our rocky morning together, I decided to check on her. When I arrived, she seemed surprised.
“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.
In the midst of this frozen, natural beauty was a dark, beetle-like shape. The interloper was of such size it looked like an insect clinging to a golf ball. Behind it, a furrow thirty miles deep ran around the world. It was such a deep wound that lava could be seen bubbling up and darkening into gray ash and fresh rock in the monster’s wake.
“A sobering sight,” I said. “To think that such an abomination has chewed through inhabited worlds as well...”
“We have to stop it, Leo,” Samson said, looking down as if mesmerized. “Do you think we really have a chance?”
“It’s as good as done,” I told him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He smiled back, but his eyes told me he didn’t really believe in me. At least, not a hundred percent.
I couldn’t blame him for that. Despite my bravado, my entire plan hinged on a few weak links. Luck would have to be on my side to succeed—and Lael had to stay as arrogant and thin-skinned as she’d always shown herself to be.
Upon reaching the yawning opening in Splendor’s side, we were caught in a gravity beam. We rode the rest of the way into the enemy ship, helpless in a grip of green light.
When we were set down, we allowed ourselves to be arrested without incident. I enjoyed the consternation of the arresting crewmen. The last time we’d boarded Splendor, we’d caused quite a scene.
Hulking figures, armored Imperial troops, surrounded us. They were actually skinny guys in thick suits that accentuated their minimal musculature. Lael herself wasn’t among them. Perhaps she’d learned not to get too close to tricky humans.
We followed the group to the central chamber moving down passages that wound around the ship’s spine. There, at last, I met Lael.
“Blake,” she said, nodding to me as we entered. “Come talk to me before you die. I must admit, you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
A dozen armored shapes surrounded me, but I shrugged as if barely interested.
“Fine,” I said, “if you have refreshments.”
She shook her head. “You dark-worlders are always thinking of creature comforts,” she said. “But I’ll indulge you one last time. Try this yellow fruit—it’s flavorful.”
I did, and I found it excellent. It was a cross between a mango and a cantaloupe. Samson tried one too, and he nodded appreciatively.
“So,” Lael said, watching us. “You really aren’t predators. Odd that your sub-species could be so feral.”
“We’re omnivores,” I said, “just like you. We’re a cross between Hunter of fruit and Hunter of flesh.”
She nodded. “That much is true—the Imperial Kher dine on fare which is a blend of flesh and vegetation. I must admit, I find it somewhat profane to see how similar you are to us—your superior antecedents. Most species were altered more significantly when they were seeded on various worlds.”
“I’ve had a few thoughts about that,” I said. “Have the Kher ever isolated their point of origin? The world upon which they originally evolved?”
“No, we haven’t. Countless Imperial anthropologists have searched long and hard for that mythical planet—if it exists at all.”
Nodding, I stared at her for a few seconds. I’d just discovered something very interesting, but I wasn’t sure how to use it to my advantage yet.
I was beginning to think Earth was the birthplace of the Kher after all. It made some sense, as the countless other planets among the stars that supported Kher life were clearly not the evolutionary point of origin. If the Imperials didn’t know where they came from… well, why couldn’t the evidence we’d seen on lowly Earth be conclusive?
The only mystery after that would be how the Imperials had come to be. Had they left Earth long ago and colonized the stars with varied versions of their own anatomy? Or had it been more complex than that?
Unable to think of an immediate way to make use of my advantage, I took the time to eat the entirety of the fruit Lael had offered and suck the pit clean.
“Now that we have eaten, we can honorably slay one another!” Lael announced.
I wasn’t entirely sure if that was supposed to be funny, or representative of normal thinking for the Imperial Kher. But in either case, she was serious.
She stood up and indicated our surroundings with a sweep of her arms. She pointed to a row of armored suits.
“Don your choice of equipment,” she told us. “Meet my specialist in close-combat, Colonel Vopeth.”
Vopeth was already suited in his armor, looking quite at home in it.
“Hmm,” I said, studying the suits. They had complex controls inside. There was no way Samson or I could figure them out enough to be competitive in a short amount of time. “Combat between two men on Earth is never done with weapons of any kind. As we don’t know how to use your devices of war, we must insist neither of us should.”
Lael shook her head. “That wasn’t specified before the terms were accepted,” she said.
“Ah-ha!” I shouted, turning to the circle of watching faces. Many officers and crewmen had begun to gather. They were eager to witness mayhem, I could see it in their eyes. “I’m impressed, Captain Lael! It’s always said we Earth men are tricky, but there’s no comparison in this case. You’ve managed to bamboozle us. To gain our confidence then alter the arrangement at the final moment in your favor. I applaud your—”
“Enough!” Lael shouted angrily. “You’ve overstepped your bounds, Captain Blake. There is no trickery here, no deceit.”
“Well then, let us fight unarmed.”
Lael’s eyes slid from her crewmen to my face, then back again. “I will do so if you give up your champion,” she said. “Fight Colonel Vopeth yourself.”
“Unarmed?” I asked mildly.
“Yes. Unarmed.”
Vopeth’s eyes slid to meet hers, then went back to mine. He still looked confident. I got the feeling he was the master of personal combat aboard Splendor.
It was obvious why Lael wanted me to face Vopeth, rather than Samson. It wasn’t just because I was smaller than either of them. It was because if Vopeth could beat me, she would get her shot to do more than beat me down.
I could tell by the look in Vopeth’s eyes he meant to kill me, if he could.
“You’ve got a deal,” I told her.
Slowly, a smirk began to spread over her features. It was an unpleasant sight.
Even as she displayed her happiness, Vopeth began rapidly shedding his armor. He didn’t look worried at all—in fact, he looked downright eager.
=53=
While we prepped for the upcoming fight, I continuously checked the time. Abrams had made important promises to me—but he was late with the results, as usual.
“What’s your plan, boss?” Samson asked me. “How are you going to take this freak down?”
Colonel Vopeth was a freak. Unlike most of his comrades, he was a mass of ropy muscles under his armor. He seemed not to have an ounce of fat on him, and his pale hairless skin slid over hard lumps of flesh. The muscles underneath flexed with smooth precision as he removed his chest piece.
“With any luck, I won’t have to,” I said, glancing at Samson. “Try to think of a way to stall—”
A hard blow struck the back of my head, announcing that the fight had begun. A cheer went up from the surrounding armored troops, and I barely had time to stagger back around to face Colonel Vopeth before he barreled into me.
Apparently, human customs when dueling didn’t apply to the Imperial Kher. That shouldn’t have surprised me, as the Rebel Kher hadn’t been terribly formal when such conflicts began, either.
There was no handshake, no bow, not even a clear declaration of intent. Vopeth had simply hurled his helmet at me and nailed me in the back when I’d turned away. The moment he’d gotten his armor off, the fight had commenced.
Samson put his hands on my shoulders and spun me to face Vopeth at the last instant. He gave me a slight shove in the right direction and stepped back. That was all the momentum I had as I met the colonel’s unexpected charge.
Fortunately, I wasn’t stunned, just surprised. As a veteran of several street-fights and countless conflicts with the Rebels, I responded automatically to the situation.
Stepping to one side, I gripped Vopeth’s outstretched fingers and guided them away from my eye-sockets, where they seemed intent on gouging like an eagle’s claws. His forward motion carried him over my carefully placed foot, which caught an ankle and sent him sprawling.
Those hands, though—they caught me on the way by. Red nails furrowed my skin, the furrows rapidly filling with blood. His knobby white fingers squeezed my guiding hands painfully. Such strength! He wouldn’t be an easy opponent in a clinch.
Instead of waiting for him to regain his feet, I leapt to the attack, landing a kick into his back as he tried to get up. My heel sank into his left kidney, and I heard a hiss of discomfort escape him.
If I’d been more confident, I would have jumped on his back, rode him down and pummeled him—but I wasn’t sure what I was dealing with yet. I assumed a fighter’s stance instead, my weight balanced, my arms up and ready.
He bounced back to his feet and spun around. He came at me again, but he had some respect for me now. He didn’t charge like a playground bully. He circled, sidestepping, and I did the same.
Around us, the armored Imperials beat their gauntlets on their chests in a rhythm. This created a clanking din that they seemed to be familiar with. Farther back, behind their circle, stood the tall waif I knew as Captain Lael.
She would have been captivating if it wasn’t for her bloodthirsty smile. She wanted to see me beaten down, that much was clear.
“Don’t toy with him, Vopeth!” she called out. “I’m getting bored.”
Vopeth glanced at her and nodded—but the exchange was an error on both of their parts. I stepped in quickly, feinted once with a punch to the belly, then landed a hard one on his nose. The blood spurted, looking redder than usual as it ran down in runnels over his white chest.
Roaring, Vopeth threw his hands wide and caught me in those long arms. He dragged me closer in a hug.
I made him pay for his move. Rather than trying to pull away, I smashed a knee into his groin, drove two stiff fingers into his throat and slammed my skull up into his teeth.
Blood poured, and he grunted in pain, but none of my actions got him to release me. Fantastic strength drew me into an embrace. His arms tightened and squeezed.
Not since I was a child had I been manhandled like this. It was a bear-hug, right out of schoolyard lore. It occurred to me that these Imperials weren’t sophisticated physical fighters. They fought with brute force and little else.
Even that was a surprise. The Imperials I’d dealt with before Vopeth had all been weak of limb, dependent on machines to do all their heavy lifting. Could it be that Vopeth had been altered? Manipulated in some way so as to be strong but not terribly fast or agile?
It hardly mattered what the source of his strength was because Vopeth was crushing the life out of me. His arms were steel bands, and my ribs were already flexing painfully. His fingers were like those of a robotic loader. They cut into my flesh, closing with such strength that I could feel them bruising me, separating my own layers of meat and sinew, driving so deep they pressed between the bones in my side and kept going.
Only my own empowered limbs, aided by the symbiotic creature within me, allowed me to contest this monster at all. With my mind in a panic, I tried to think of a counter. Pain hadn’t seemed to stop him. I couldn’t apply greater force—all I had left was to fight dirty.
The world had shrunken down to me and Vopeth, but still I was somewhat aware of my surroundings. Something was going wrong. The crowd encircling us had backed up. Captain Lael was shouting something, and the light built into the ship’s walls brightened rhythmically. Even Samson was looking around, frowning in concern rather than watching the fight.
Everyone seemed distracted, except for Vopeth. I was similarly focused, as I knew it was possible that I had only a minute left to live.
I stopped trying to hold back his crushing arms with my own hands. Instead, I reached up and planted a thumb on each of his squeezed shut eyes. I began to dig in, and he began roaring, a sound echoed by my own lungs.
He released me at last. His hands flashed up, grabbing my wrists and stretching my arms wide. His mouth hung open and he panted. I smashed my head into his face until the blood ran from my scalp and his broken teeth.
He hurled me away at last. Blinded, he staggered around the chamber. I wrapped my arms around my chest and wheezed.
“What’s going on, Samson?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Some kind of emergency alarm. They took off in every direction.”
Blinded, his face a ruin, Vopeth caught the sound of my voice. Growling like a beast, he tottered in my direction. I didn’t want to chance another stint in his grip. I kicked out a knee as he came close, and he fell to the ground, crawling and lashing out with his powerful hands to grip me.
“I’m sorry, Colonel,” I said to him, “but I’ve got to be going now.”
“You have no honor, Blake!” he cried hoarsely.
“We’ll call it a draw,” I said, “if that will make you feel better.”
With that, I trotted out of the chamber. Samson followed in confusion.
“Where are we going? What’s going on?”
“If I don’t miss my guess, the Hunter has decided to join the party.”
“What should we do, Captain? You think we can make it back to the pod in time?”
“No, that’s the last place we should go. You see, Abrams tampered with it.”
Samson’s eyes lit up. “Oh… I get it. Another dirty primate trick.”
“My worst of the day,” I agreed.
“Where do we go, then?”
I thought for a moment. Where would Lael go?
“The lifeboats,” I said firmly. “If there’s one person we’ll find there, I bet I know who it will be.”
Samson looked determined, and he followed after me gamely enough. I was glad to have him. It was going to be hard to get the lifeboat hatch open. I had the kind of pain that indicated cracked ribs.
Battle stations had been sounded all over the ship. Armored troops ran by now and then, but they didn’t arrest us. They didn’t seem to have orders in regard to what should be done with us. We had been guests aboard the ship only a few minutes earlier.
Now, we looked like panicked members of the crew just like everyone else. Klaxons sounded in the passages, creating an odd, warbling sound that made my brain hurt. There could be no doubt the ship was in trouble.
The ship was soon underway, pulling up out of orbit. I could feel the distant clawing of the planet’s tug and G forces of acceleration. Could their anti-gravity be out? Or perhaps it was just not operating properly? If that was Abrams doing as well, it was well-played.
But it might also mean all of our deaths. My plan had been to drive Lael’s ship out of the star system, not to destroy it while I was still aboard.
The ship was so unstable we were crawling by the time we reached the nearest lifeboat. There was no one there—but there had been.
“The hatch is sealed,” Samson panted. “The boat is gone. Do you think…?”
“I know her. She’s gone. Let’s find the next one.”
A tremendous explosion bowled us off our feet as we headed for the external hatch on the next boat. Gritting my teeth in pain, I climbed into a sitting position—then was I lifted into the air.
Samson had slid a big arm around my waist and hauled me with him like I was a kid. I groaned in pain. Some of my ribs had shifted, stabbing into my organs. The pain was darkening my vision, threatening to make me black out.
“Get us into the boat,” I said unnecessarily.
Samson was determined. He cranked open a hatch and stuffed us both through it. We crawled inside, and I weakly touched the harness straps
“Override,” I said. “Fire us out of the locks.”
“We don’t have good seals on these suits,” Samson said. “We’ll die if we depressurize.”
“Do it!” I ordered, head lolling.
There was a roar, a whoosh, then a bolt of terrific pain as we accelerated on boosters away from Splendor’s hull. We were fired out into open space, and through the one tiny porthole I caught a glimpse of the icy planet spinning below us.
The gouged face of the world looked different. The deep, dark furrow on the surface had been abandoned. The Hunter must have lifted off and taken flight, leaving behind a meal unfinished.
I lost consciousness after that, and it was a blessing to me.
=54=
When I awakened, our lifeboat was still spinning in orbit. Samson was there, looking sick.
“I can’t get these Imperial controls to respond,” he told me.
I looked over what he was doing. He wasn’t a pilot, but any man worth his salt had picked up the basics of flying a small space boat by now.
“It’s not your skills,” I told him. “There’s some kind of security interface on this thing. It’s not recognizing us as Imperials, so it’s not letting us fly this thing.”
We did manage to get the emergency beacon going. The communications systems and the sensors weren’t security protected.
“Mayday, mayday,” I called when I got a live channel out. “This is Captain Blake, of the—”
“Blake? You dare to live?”
The voice was female, and familiar, but it wasn’t the one I’d expected to hear.
“Captain Lael?” I asked.
“Who else? You’re broadcasting on an Imperial channel.”
“Right… How do I contact Hammerhead?”
“Why should I tell you that?”
“Because once your ship has been destroyed, Hammerhead will be the only source of heat and air in this system.”
She didn’t say anything for a while.
“How did you get off my ship?” she demanded at last. “You must have known what was happening.”
“That’s crazy-talk, Captain,” I said. “This is an emergency. We must contact Hammerhead and—”
“Are you actually suggesting I let you capture me? Your fantasies exceed the boundaries of good taste, Blake.”
Although I couldn’t control the tiny ship, I was able to direct her sensors. Using my sym, I reached out and perceived our environment.
Below us was the dying world. The frosty surface was torn up, but not yet fatally so. In space above her were three vessels. One of them was Hammerhead. She sat high, watching the action as if aloof and immune. The gravity fluctuations my ship was sending out maintained just the right pattern of uneven pulses to prevent the Hunter from attacking.
The second ship was the Hunter itself. It had crested the atmosphere and lifted into orbit. There, it stalked its prey. A series of bristling spines rose up and launched themselves from its back.
The vision was startling. The missiles—that’s what the spines really were, vast missiles—plunged toward Splendor. The cruiser’s shields were up, and she was firing back everything she had. The Hunter absorbed the tiny sparks on its vast hull. It was scored and pitted from a thousand such strikes.
But it was hopeless. It wasn’t until the end that I realized the spine-missiles weren’t a single entity. They broke apart into a million flechettes, each carrying an explosive payload. They delivered so much firepower even a large shielded ship was overwhelmed.
Splendor was battered by tens of thousands of strikes. They set her to spinning, then cracked open her hull, sending bodies, precious gasses and gouts of flaming plasma into space. The display was brief, but beautiful.
“She’s gone,” I said to Samson thoughtfully. “Lael’s quite the opposite of our own captains, who are dedicated to going down with their ships. I’d be willing to bet she’s the only Imperial survivor in this system.”
“What about the Hunter?” Samson asked. “Can you see it? Is it stalking us next?”
Concerned, I studied the scene outside. The massive Hunter drifted through the debris field it had created, bits and pieces of Splendor bouncing off the hull.
“Looks like its ignoring us and Hammerhead. We probably look like space junk, and Hammerhead is using Abrams’ gravity pulse system to hide.”
“We’ve got to get out of this tin can” Samson said. “We can’t call Hammerhead, and they probably think we’re Imperials anyway.”
“Yeah…” I agreed. “There’s only more move I can think of.”
He looked at me expectantly.
“You aren’t going to like it,” I warned him.
“I figured. Do what you’ve got to do, man.”
With his blessing, I reached for the communication controls again.
Samson’s big hand reached out and interposed itself between me and the radio set.
“Hold on,” he said. “The Hunter was intent on destroying Splendor, right?”
“Yep. One target at a time. I don’t think they’re all that bright.”
“But if you start talking on that thing—won’t it detect our transmissions? It’s in acquire-target mode right now, and we don’t want it to acquire us.”
I nodded. “You’re right about that, but look at this display. We pinpointed Lael the last time she transmitted anything. She’s much closer to the Hunter than we are.”
“Yeah? So?”
I stabbed the transmit button. Samson winced.
“Captain Lael,” I said, “let me be the first to express my heartfelt regrets on the loss of your ship and crew. I can’t tell you how sorrowful it makes me to think of all the brave Imperials who’ve just lost their lives needlessly under your command.”
I paused then, waiting for a second to see if she would take the bait. She didn’t.
Frowning, I decided to prod her harder. “For the record, this was a foregone conclusion. We planned it before we even reached the Ral system. Your acceptance of my challenge sealed the fate of Splendor and every weakling Imperial aboard her.”
I paused again, staring out into space. So far, the Hunter hadn’t so much as flinched. But Lael had maintained radio silence anyway.
“Yes…” I said, keying the transmitter again, “once again the Rebel forces prevailed over a larger Imperial vessel. I’m growing increasingly convinced that there’s nothing to fear for our side. Your people simply aren’t dangerous. You’re overrated. It’s probably due to decadent rot within your ancient culture. After all, how long can a decaying people maintain a warrior tradition? You’re toothless and old, sure, but you—”
“SHUT UP!” screeched Lael. “You will be silent, insect, or your home planet will be crushed next!”
Smiling, I stopped transmitting and used my sym to watch the big Hunter. It was still lingering in orbit, drifting above the torn-up world. Nothing happened for several seconds. I sighed and reached for the transmitter again, but—
“There!” I called out. “Samson, look at the display!”
He did as I asked, and I relayed what I was seeing to that tiny space on the deck of the lifeboat. The massive Hunter, which had been dormant since destroying Splendor, finally lurched into motion.
“What’s it doing?” Samson asked.
“It’s doing our work for us.”
He frowned. “But you talked more than she did. Why is it going for her boat and not yours?”
“Opportunity versus target value,” I said. “It’s driven by an AI, remember? A bunch of complex ‘if’ statements make decisions for it. Since Lael’s boat is within easy reach, it’s decided to go for her. We’re much farther away. That made us a lower-valued target.”
Samson studied me with a furrowed brow. “You took a big risk talking to her, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “But it wasn’t just for fun. Watch.”
We stared at our sensors for the next minute. Lael activated her tiny jets, and her lifeboat began thrusting away from the monster that pursued her.
There was no hope of escape, however. She couldn’t do more than delay the inevitable.
The Hunter, for its part, didn’t bother to fire another spine. It simply chased her with its forward maw open, ready to swallow her whole.
Picking up the transmitter, I called Lael one last time.
“It might be too late to save you, but I’m willing to try,” I told her. “First, tell me how to transmit on an open channel, without Imperial encryption. I must talk to Hammerhead.”
“You shall be drained of your bodily fluids, Blake!” she called out. “You’ll—”
“You’re wasting precious time, and quite possibly your own life, Lael. Do you want to live or not?”
Cursing me with every other word, she gave me her codes. I quickly used them and transmitted instructions to Hammerhead. Gwen answered, and while she was doubtful, she knew how to follow orders.
In the end, Lael had to abandon her tiny ship and become a morsel in a spacesuit. After an hour of drifting out there in a decaying orbit, Hammerhead caught up to her and rescued her.
I made sure I was on hand to greet her at the airlock. Despite the fact I was in searing pain, there was a broad smile on my face as the hatch spun open. Crewmembers on both sides of me applauded in congratulations as an Imperial officer stumbled aboard an Earth ship for the first time in history.
=55=
Captain Lael made a poor houseguest.
She was the sneering sort, and I’d expected that. But I hadn’t quite grasped the level of disdain she had for me and my people.
“The ignominy of imprisonment isn’t worth living another year,” she said. “I should give up my life and taste the sweet release of death instead.”
“That’s always an option,” Gwen told her in a cheery voice. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to think of it in Blake’s presence.”
Lael looked at her as if she were some kind of an anomaly.
“Your beasts continue to address me, Blake,” she said. “It’s disconcerting and rude.”
Gwen set her jaw, showing her fine white teeth.
“Yeah, well…” I said. “The Rebel Fleet doesn’t maintain the same sharp discipline you Imperials manage.”
“You should punish her,” Lael told me seriously. “It’s the only way. Like any animal, the lower—”
“Lady,” Gwen interrupted. “We’re not beasts, or slaves, or anything like that. We’re crewmen, people who can freely move up or down in rank based on our own merits. I might become the captain of this vessel someday.”
Lael shook her head, marveling. “Impudent and deluded. I can’t decide who is more offensive, the shipmaster who lords it over me, or his servants who don’t know their place.”
Gwen threw up her hands and walked out. That left Lael and I alone.
We’d long since stopped worrying that Captain Lael was dangerous. Without her ship, or her crew, she was toothless. She still had her wand, but it was a dead curio without a vessel to control. As a precaution, I ordered her wand be removed and stored in a locker along with her other personal effects.
My I hope was that she’d turn out to be as knowledgeable as she was irritating. If it hadn’t have been for the fact that she was a possible source of invaluable intelligence, I wouldn’t have risked so much to pick her up. But I knew she could tell us a lot about what was going on along the Orion Front. With many Rebel worlds endangered, I wanted to make sure I gained whatever intel I could from her.
Accordingly, the moment Gwen was gone, I offered Lael a drink. It was a slight risk, as she wasn’t exactly human, but she looked like an elongated human. With any luck, alcohol would affect her nervous system the same way it did ours.
After I poured her a fine wine, she sniffed it, sipped it, then spat it out on the deck. The porous surface sopped up the stain, and I frowned.
“Not to your liking?”
“It tastes like cleaning fluid,” she complained.
“Right…”
I searched the conference room’s tiny liquor cabinet. I selected the sweetest, sappiest drink I could find. It was a peach liqueur, the sort of thing I couldn’t stomach for a second.
I poured, she sniffed again, and this time she touched it with her tongue. Her frown melted away.
“That’s better. Why must I drink this liquid before dining?”
“It is our custom,” I explained.
“You drink some, then.”
Grimacing, I poured myself a dollop and forced it down. It was like drinking maple syrup.
She loosened up after that, and we both had some more peach liqueur. I delayed the food, and I poured her additional small doses of alcohol. She began to smile and her mood became elevated and relaxed.
Finally, however, she figured it out.
“I’m intoxicated!” she announced. “This is foul behavior!”
“Why? I’m drinking too.”
“Of course you are. You’re attempting to mate with me. I was thrown off by the lack of a syringe, but the procedure is the same. I want you to know right now, Captain Blake, I’m not going to become your concubine!”
“Uh… that wasn’t my intention,” I assured her. “Here, have another drink.”
I poured, but she smashed the tiny glass away from the table. It flew and became a sticky orange mess on the bulkhead.
She stood up, swaying slightly. I realized she was drunk. She hadn’t had much, either. Perhaps her metabolism was different, or perhaps she lacked any kind of tolerance. Worried I would poison her, I put the bottle away.
Lael glared at me, still standing and swaying. “I want that other stuff—the wine.”
I hesitated, and she flew into a rage.
“Give me the wine, you fool!”
That’s when I learned that Lael was a mean drunk. I let her have the wine, but only a half-glass. She became tipsy and violent in turns. She kissed me, then slapped both my ears at the same instant a moment later. It was tiresome.
“What I don’t understand,” I said conversationally, “is where these Hunters have come from, and who sent them.”
“More wine!”
I smiled, and I filled a glass with tap water. Topping this off with a shot of fruit juice, I passed it to her. She declared it delicious.
“The Hunter was sent by the Nomads,” she said. “If you could pay attention long enough, you would have heard that.”
“Where do these ‘Nomads’ come from?”
She made a sweeping gesture, slamming her hand into a wall, but she seemed not to feel it.
“From beyond the Rim,” she slurred. “From outside this Galaxy. Our life form dominates these stars now. We will allow no others,” she promised, wagging her finger sloppily.
I squinted at her as I thought for a moment. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “There were once other forms of intelligent life in our galaxy?”
“Of course, fool,” she sighed. “Why else would we have exterminated them and seeded worthy planets with our own genes?”
“So, these ‘Nomads’ are aliens that once lived here?”
“Finally, your primitive brain begins to comprehend the basics!”
She closed her eyes, but she didn’t fall asleep.
I’m hot,” she announced suddenly, pulling open the neckline of her robe, and kicking until one bare leg was exposed. She laid her head back and panted twice, deeply.
Startling me, her head snapped back up. “Give me more of that drink, or I’ll have your skin flayed from your corpse when this is over.”
Absently, I created more weakly flavored fruit punch and passed it to her.
The enormity of what she was saying began to sink in. If it was true… then these Nomads had a right to be pissed, whoever they were. The Hunter was their form of revenge.
“Can the Imperial fleet destroy these Hunter ships?” I asked.
“With difficulty, if we mass our strength. They travel alone, fortunately, and they are few in number.”
“Why don’t you do it, then?” I demanded. “Why are you letting them destroy the worlds of fellow Kher?”
She curled her lip at me. “Because you drove us off a year ago, Mr. Captain. We decided to turn them against you instead of wasting more ships.”
I stood up, suddenly angry. It was all I could do not to throw her back into her cell below decks. Controlling myself took a tremendous effort of will. These Imperials were technically our relatives, but they’d killed billions of their own kind. How could there be anything but total war with such people?
“I want you to pleasure me now,” she stated.
“Come on,” I said, “I’m taking you below.”
“To your cabin?” she asked.
“No, to your cell.”
“You find me unattractive?”
I looked at her. She was lovely, but she was a vicious witch. How could I even think of making love to such a monster? I shook my head.
“No thanks. You are beautiful,” I said, “on the outside. But inside, you’re demonic. You would kill your own brothers for sport in the face of true aliens like the Nomads. I don’t understand you. I’m repulsed.”
She responded with incoherent sounds and began humming to herself.
Guiding her by the arm, I took her down to her cell and locked her in. She was asleep as soon as she lay down on her bunk.
Watching her sleep for a second, I had to wonder what we were going to do with her. I guessed it would be Admiral Fex’s problem once we got back to the battle station.
=56=
Ursahn eventually showed up with Killer. By that time, the Hunter had opened an interstellar rift and disappeared. Ral was safe, as were the last few planets close to the star. Mia’s people had figured out how to build their own gravity-repellers, setting them up on each remaining mass of any size in the star system to drive away the Hunter.
Without anything else to destroy and digest, the Hunter had flown to another star system.
Ursahn arrived just as we reached Ral’s far orbit. The people of Ral were grateful—in their own odd way.
I’d been about to take a pod down to the surface of Ral when Killer hailed me.
“Phase-ship Hammerhead,” Ursahn called, using my sym. “Why are you lingering here? The enemy has left.”
“Because we don’t have an FTL drive on this phase-ship,” I explained patiently.
“But how did the enemy exit the system…?”
“Uh… they made a rift and flew through it.”
“And you didn’t follow? Were you out of position?”
I squirmed a bit in my seat. I knew what Ursahn was getting at. I could have tagged along with the Hunter, spying on it and maybe even harassing it—but I’d chosen not to.
“My mission was to save Ral. I saved Ral. Where have you been all this time?”
Ursahn glared at me across many thousands of miles of nothingness.
“Following orders. More ships will be coming through shortly—but there will be no battle, because you’ve driven off our prey,” she accused.
We parked Hammerhead in orbit, while Ursahn proved true to her word. Dozens of ships soon appeared, then hundreds more. The true strength of the Rebel Fleet had gathered at last.
“Wow,” Gwen marveled. “Are you getting this, Captain? We’ve got three battleships, at least a hundred cruisers, forty carriers and hundreds of smaller gunboats. There are so many fighters—thousands of them!”
“Yeah,” I said, not looking at the display. “I’m sure they’ll all blame me for keeping them alive.”
“You don’t think this armada could face a single Hunter?” Miller asked me.
“I’m not sure. Captain Lael hinted a fleet could destroy a Hunter, but who knows? She could have been lying. She was drunk at the time.”
Gwen looked startled at this remark. She squinted at me suspiciously. In her mind, I didn’t have the best reputation when I was left unattended with a woman.
“There’s a transmission coming in from Ral,” Chang told me. “Do you wish to take it privately?”
“No,” I said. “Display it on the forward hull.”
He did as I’d asked without comment. I’d been expecting to see a crowd of feline faces, probably old-timers with gray whiskers and drooping jowls. Instead, I saw Mia.
She was alight with excitement. Her eyes were wider than any human girl’s could hope to be. They darted around the chamber, seeing those around me, but they quickly landed on me and stayed there.
“Leo!” she called. “Is that really you up there? They told me you were slinking around in a phase-ship, killing Imperials. But I wasn’t sure if the rumor was true, or only propaganda to keep us from losing our minds.”
“It’s me,” I said, smiling at last.
Gwen was watching us with a disapproving expression, but I didn’t care. Mia and I weren’t exactly a match made in heaven, but we were compatible physically and emotionally. Mia wasn’t like a human girl—she was more visceral and immediate in her thinking. She got excited about things and jumped on them, which I found refreshing compared to the human women I’d been with recently. They all seemed to overthink every detail of life.
“Can you come down here to see me?” Mia asked.
There it was, right to the point as always. The other crewmen around me were smiling and exchanging knowing glances.
“How about this?” I asked. “I’ll talk to Ursahn. Would you like to serve on my ship? We came here to recruit people anyway.”
Her ears moved expressively, and she answered with an affirmative growl. I took her at her word, and we soon closed the channel.
Gwen was standing alarmingly close when the signal cut out. I hadn’t noticed when she’d stepped beside my command chair.
Despite being on hand, she didn’t look at me. She stared straight ahead.
“Is there something you’d like to say, XO?” I asked her.
“Nothing Captain—but I was wondering what capacity Mia would serve aboard this ship?”
“Well, I hadn’t—”
“Maybe you require a private assistant in your cabin?”
I met her eyes then, and we both frowned.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m making her a gunner. Rotate her into the shifts.”
“To be on deck when you are?”
“Yes.”
She stared at me, her mouth a very small pinched spot of pink.
“Are you sure the people of Ral will be willing to part with—”
“Leave that up to me. They’ll volunteer by the hundreds of thousands if I know these people. Ursahn will have her pick, I’m sure.”
Getting up from my seat, I gave it to Gwen and left. I used my sym to call Ursahn back and make arrangements.
Gwen was possibly a bad choice for my XO, I saw that now. She was too close to me. Too personally involved. She treated me like I was her kid-brother half the time. I would have had her step down and give the job back to Miller—but I didn’t fully trust him.
After a few short conversations, Ursahn informed me my requests would be honored by the Ral.
“Apparently, they believe you’re some kind of hero,” she sniffed.
“That’s because I am,” I said. “And I’m not finished yet. Let’s take this fleet back to Admiral Fex. I have a proposal to make that involves him and the entire Rebel Fleet.”
“You have a proposal…?” she asked, blinking at me. “Possibly, you don’t understand your rank, Blake. You’re wearing a four-pointed emblem. Fex is an Admiral. Demands go only one way—from him down to you.”
“Listen, Ursahn. You know as well as I do that Fex is a traitor. Help me out, and we’ll save more worlds from destruction.”
She looked at me with her dark, wet eyes, but she nodded at last. “I’ll see what I can do. There are options when a situation requires circumventing the chain of command.”
That was good enough for me. I headed to the lower decks and waited impatiently in the pod bay. When a shuttle came up at last, it was piloted by a Ral male. Next to him was an excited female.
I recognized both of them. The pilot was Ra-tikh, and his passenger was Mia.
Mia jumped out of her harness and embraced me tightly. It was good to see her again.
=57=
Ra-tikh had come along as a formality. Apparently, by the laws of Ral, Mia was still a member of his personal group of females.
On Ral, there were about ten females for every male. They lived and worked together in prides, much as lions on earth did. Not every female was part of a pride, but most were. Legally, that gave Ra-tikh a stake in where Mia went and what she did.
When we exited the pod chamber, I was only half-ready for what happened next. I should have expected it, but somehow the happiness of the reunion had thrown me off.
Ra-tikh lunged at me the moment we had our helmets off and were walking down the central passageway together. He slammed me into a wall, and I elbowed him in return.
His claws ripped my suit, and his hot breath burned the nape of my neck.
I can attest right here and now that having a big cat on your back isn’t a pleasant experience. In fact, it ignites a state of pure panic in a primate like myself. I’d always figured that too many of his kind had eaten too many of my kind back in the day.
Ducking low, I stood up suddenly, trying to throw him off and break his hold. It worked, partly. He rolled off and sprang up again.
Mia understood what was going on perfectly. She stood back with her arms and legs thrown wide. Her eyes were big and alight, darted over the scene as if she couldn’t get enough of it. She showed her long teeth and panted slightly, but she made no move to interfere.
I understood the situation after a flash of insight struck me. Mia was part of Ra-tikh’s pride. If I wanted to take her, I would have to beat him down. That was the law and custom of Ral, and I realized I should have clocked him the second he stepped out of the shuttle.
As it was, I was in a close-quarters fight with a big cat. He was larger and stronger than I was, but he’d never been as sophisticated in combat. His kind preferred to fight like animals, rather than using a trained series of moves utilizing balance and leverage.
He came at me again, and I sidestepped, trying to trip him. He caught me with a rake cross the belly. Right through my shredded spacesuit, I felt the blood flow.
About then two of my crewmen rushed up with their disruptors out.
“Stand down!” I shouted to them. “This is to be a fair fight.”
Shocked, they did as I’d ordered. They’d been briefed about things like this, but they hadn’t experienced much of this kind of thing in person.
Ra-tikh nodded to me, acknowledging my honorable move. But he didn’t look like he was going to give up.
He rushed in again. This time, he was expecting my sidestep, and he twisted into me. We both went down in a heap.
I knew I was in trouble then, but I had a few moves left. I grabbed his wrist and twisted, pulling his arm up behind his back.
He chewed a set of holes into my shoulder and sank claws into my ribs while I tried to get him into an arm lock. Blood poured, but I got his arm up behind him.
“What is the purpose of this?” he panted.
I was on his back, hauling up on his arm, which seemed close to dislocating in my grasp.
“If you don’t give up,” I said, “I’ll break your arm.”
“Ha!” he snorted. “Good enough.”
He flopped on his face and went limp.
Confused, I stood up. Mia gave a little shriek and rushed up to me, throwing her arms around me and kissing me.
She had a body-cam on her chest, and she directed this down toward Ra-tikh’s inert form.
“The monkey captain has defeated Ra-tikh,” she said seriously. “I am free to change my allegiance.”
I watched this performance in confusion. After making her little speech, she stopped the body-cam from recording and transmitted the vid.
“Is it done?” Ra-tikh asked from the deck.
“Yes,” Mia said, “that was most convincing, Ra-tikh. It almost makes me sad to leave you.”
By then, I was beginning to catch on. Ra-tikh got calmly to his feet and adjusted his clothing.
“That was all an act?” I demanded.
“I thought you would be pleased,” Ra-tikh said. “I did my best to employ primate tactics. You issued the challenge, and I wanted to accept your offer, but I knew you wouldn’t trade a female of your own for mine.”
I thought about the idea of giving Gwen or Lael to Ra-tikh. No one would have been happy about that.
“So,” I said, “you decided to play a trick. You faked this fight to give up Mia?”
“It was the only way to maintain honor and friendship all the way around,” Ra-tikh said. “Aren’t you pleased?”
My suit was a bloody mess, but I knew that complaining about unnecessary roughness would only be embarrassing. A little spilled blood was nothing to this predatory species.
“Yes,” I said, “I’m pleased. I’m glad to have Mia back aboard my ship.”
“May you have better luck with her than I have,” Ra-tikh said. “She refuses to mate, and she’s slow to work.”
“Ral bores me,” Mia admitted. “I’m no longer happy on my homeworld.”
These people were refreshingly honest and direct. I knew Mia would be a culture shock aboard Hammerhead for many of the humans, but maybe that was a good thing. After all, they could use a firsthand education as to what the Kher were really like.
“Welcome aboard, Mia,” I said.
“Which one is your cabin?” she asked.
“Uh… we’ll get to that. Ra-tikh, would you like to take a meal with me?”
“No,” he said. “I hate fruit and dried meat. I’ll go back home, hoping Ursahn might choose me to fly one of her fighters—she’s yet to answer.”
“All right then. It was good to see you again.”
We clasped hands briefly. Ra-tikh reached out one of his massive hands and closed it around my wrist, he twisted it this way and that, experimentally.
“Curious,” he said. “I can see that your arm has flaws. It can barely rotate without coming free at the shoulder. You should know, however, that my limb felt almost no pain when you tried this trick on me.”
“Good to know, thanks,” I said.
We saw him off, and only then did I head for Medical to clean and seal my lacerations.
Mia whispered in my ear while the ship’s doctor glued my flesh back together.
“He was lying,” she said. “You hurt his arm. I saw his face.”
“Welcome back, Mia,” I said, and we hugged again.
At the smell and feel of her, I felt a surge of happiness. It had been a long time since I’d touched her.
Despite all the trouble she’d caused already, I dared to hope she’d be worth it in the end.
=58=
Dr. Abrams came to talk to me while I was resting in the infirmary. The ship’s medic wanted a chance to make doubly sure my wounds were disinfected before she released me—and I was considering overriding her authority on that point.
I was worrying about Mia. She was trouble in physical form, and Gwen had already come down from the bridge to welcome her aboard. They’d left together, talking. It all sounded innocent and cheery enough—but I didn’t entirely trust Gwen’s motives.
Abrams presented a welcome distraction. He walked in, nodded to me, and presented a smug look I knew too well.
“Figured out something new, did you Doc?” I asked.
“What? Did someone contact you already?”
“Nah, I saw it in your face.”
“Interesting… I had no idea I was so transparent. But in any case, yes, I’ve discovered something new.”
My good arm made a spinning motion. “Okay, out with it.”
“It’s regarding your conversations with the enemy captain.”
“Lael? What about her?”
“She let slip several critical pieces of information. For one thing, she suggested that the Imperials had some form of control over the automated Hunters.”
“Yeah, sure. They can prevent them from attacking any target they want. They already demonstrated that, and you stole their tech.”
Abrams flipped one skinny finger up like switchblade. “Ah, but that’s not the end of it. Yes, I duplicated their friend-or-foe signal that causes the Hunters to ignore an enemy. I also gave you a jammer to implant in their ship that caused their own system not to work.”
Grunting, I spun my finger to indicate he should speed this up. Dr. Abrams loved nothing more than to list his own accomplishments, just in case anyone had missed something.
“That achievement gave me a further idea,” he said. “What if the Imperials are able to attract a Hunter to target a system? What if they can entice the enemy to attack where they want them to?”
“What evidence do you have of such a capability?”
“Almost none,” he admitted. “But recall the fact that the Hunter has never attacked one of our battle stations. Perhaps the Imperials worried that we might damage it severely. How did they get the Hunter to go only to safe, relatively undefended planets?”
“No idea—and I still don’t think we have any evidence that they’re doing what you’re suggesting.”
That irritating finger of his was up again, like a flag of pale flesh. “Ah, but we might! Remember when you encountered the three cruisers in a nearby system?”
“Yeah…”
“It’s my contention that the enemy was ‘marking’ that system for attack.”
“How can we be sure of that…?”
He smiled, and I got it. “Ah,” I said. “Okay. You want us to go out there and take a look. If they were flagging that system for destruction next after this one, then when the Hunter jumped—it probably jumped there.”
“Exactly.”
I heaved a deep sigh. Abrams could have just frigging told me right off what he was getting at, but he’d greatly enjoyed leading me through his logical inferences first. I guess that was part of the fun involved when you had a genius around—you had to endure his eccentric behavior.
Heaving myself off a hard, infirmary bunk, the medic put up a fuss, but I waved her off.
“If I feel infected,” I told her, “I’ll come back.”
“You lost a lot of blood. You might pass out.”
“Then Abrams here will carry me back.”
Abrams looked alarmed, but he didn’t say anything as we went up to the bridge. I contacted Ursahn with my sym along the way.
“Captain Ursahn,” I said, mustering all the cheer and bravado I had left. “I have a request to make.”
“I’ve already told Dr. Abrams the answer is ‘no’—so don’t bother.”
I glanced over at Abrams, who studiously refused to meet my eye. The situation was now clear: he’d tried to go over my head and failed. With his annoying personality, who knew what kind of damage he’d done to our cause?
“No?” I asked, deliberately sounding surprised. “You mean you don’t want to go back to confront Fex?”
“What? No… I mean yes! Going back to the battle station is the plan. We will confront the admiral. Your no-rank scientific servant begged me to divert our course toward some other star system of no consequence.”
“Such nonsense,” I said. “Feel free to ignore his idle prattling if he ever dares to contact you again.”
Abrams was glaring at me, but he didn’t quite dare to interrupt.
“His ideas weren’t entirely without merit,” Ursahn said. “He wanted to check—”
“To see if the enemy Hunter was there or not, right? Yes, I know. A sheer waste of time! Who cares where the Hunter is? We’ve got a proven defense against these automated ships now. All we have to do is spread the usage of these gravity-pulse systems and the Hunters will avoid all our planets. Then we can safely forget about them.”
“Well no… we can’t,” Ursahn said thoughtfully. “They’re still very dangerous, and the one we chased off might even know what we’re planning.”
“Are you telling me Dr. Abrams isn’t a fool?” I demanded.
She thought that over. “I don’t think he is… his suggestion was out of place, and beyond his station. But it wasn’t a bad idea.”
“Well then,” I said, “do whatever you want. It’s up to you, Ursahn. Blake out.”
Abrams stared at me when I’d finished. “A whole star system is about to be destroyed due to your petty lack of respect? Is that the kind of ship’s officer you’ve become, Blake? I want a transfer. As soon as there’s a second ship in the Earth Navy, I’ll be on it.”
“If they’ll have you,” I commented. “But just wait around a minute on the bridge.”
“Whatever for?” he asked.
“You can train Mia on the weapons console. You did the interface redesign, right?”
He grumbled while Mia came to sit beside him and listen. He gave her a first-class lecture outlining the basics. The phase-ship had only one major piece of armament, and it was pretty easy to operate. The real trick was deciding when to fire it, as it took some time to cycle through its cool-down phases.
Before the lesson was finished, Ursahn had called me back. I relayed my sym’s output to a forward screen, and Abrams couldn’t help but listen in.
“I’ve reconsidered,” Ursahn said. “We’ll go to the last known contact point where we might find the Hunter. If it’s there, we’ll know something about Imperial capabilities. If it’s not, we’ll learn from that too. Prepare to follow Killer into a new rift.”
“Hammerhead is underway, Captain,” I said. “We’ll follow you while phasing.”
We fired up our engines moments later and followed Killer into a newly made rift.
=59=
Abrams was dumbfounded.
“How did you manage that bit of magic, Blake?” he asked me. “Ursahn gave me a flat ‘no’ earlier. Now, a few minutes later, she calls you back and practically orders you to follow my original suggestion?”
“It’s all in how you ask, Doc,” I said. “You can’t act like you want something too badly, or people will try to stop you from getting it.”
“That’s highly counterintuitive.”
“It certainly is, but if you do it right, you’ll do a lot better in both love and war.”
After that comment, I caught Gwen flashing me a nasty look. That had to be about Mia. I had to admit, if there was ever a phrase that summoned up Mia as a person, love and war did it pretty well.
A few minutes later, we crossed into the rift and came out in a star system we’d left behind days ago. The same primitive world with simple radio communications was still there, intact. They’d originally warned us about the starships hiding on their world. The atmosphere that circled their planet was still slightly smoky and radioactive from our last engagement there.
Relief swept me to see the inhabited planet was still intact. That was more than could be said for the outer worlds. Both the system’s gas giants were gone, and a very large ship was moving methodically sunward toward the doomed planet and its hapless people.
“There’s the Hunter,” Abrams declared. “I was right!”
“Uh-huh,” I said, sliding my lower jaw around and slouching in my captain’s chair. “We found the Hunter right where you said it would be, Doc. What do we do now?”
“Do? We retreat and regroup, of course. When we can put together a force of great size, we might be able to destroy it. But Captain Lael said it would be difficult even with a large fleet.”
Ursahn wasn’t taking any chances this time. While we watched, more and more starships appeared. She’d talked to another admiral and managed to get him to bring along his entire fleet, which had been gathered from local, inhabited systems.
“We’ve got a lot of ships now,” I pointed out. “You still want to run? What about the Kher on the inhabited world? They’re going to die without our help.”
He snorted rudely. “They’re dead regardless. We can’t stop that thing with such a small force. It would be suicide to try.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“I didn’t know we’d find the Hunter here, either. It was an educated guess. A high-odds probability, nothing else.”
“Point taken... Time for you to head on back down to your lab, Doc. Build me more Hunter-attractors and repellers. I might need them soon.”
Shaking his head, he left the bridge. Gwen came to stand next to my command chair.
“Captain,” she said in a quiet voice. “You can’t be serious about fighting the Hunter. We can’t save these primitives.”
“They’re intelligent, and they’re Kher, just like us.”
“You’ve got to get over this complex of yours,” she said. “You owe your loyalties to Earth and to this ship. You can’t save everyone in the universe, Leo. You’re not even in command of this fleet.”
I looked at her. “You think I couldn’t get Ursahn and the rest to fight if I wanted them to?”
“You probably could,” she admitted. “These people have been blindsided by your manipulations from the start.”
“Right… So, as my exec, you figure it’s your job to talk me out of doing something rash? Give it a try.”
She licked her lips and studied the system charts. The Hunter had already begun to shift its course. It was no longer making a beeline to the next world. It was turning, braking and angling its course.
“The Hunter appears to be performing a course-correction, Captain,” Dr. Chang called out.
“Plot it out, Chang.”
He did, and the details flashed up on the walls. “It’s heading back toward us now. We’ve distracted it from destroying the next world in line.”
“We’ve got that going for us, at least,” I said sarcastically.
“Hold on—” Chang began, as two objects appeared to separate from the monstrous Hunter. “We’ve got confirmation. The enemy has released two of its spine-missiles.”
“ETA?”
“We’ve got just under three hours. Ah—two more launches now—it is firing a volley every minute or so.”
We watched in fascination as the Hunter launched what amounted to a slow-motion barrage of massive missiles. The spine-like growths that attached to the vast ship’s heaving back were each the size of one of our battleships. Any vessel struck by one of them would be instantly obliterated.
“Captain,” Gwen said urgently, “we could do what we did in the Ral system. If we can get a gravity beacon operating on the inhabited planet, we can make the Hunter pass on destroying their world.”
“Yes… maybe. Chang, plot me out a course to the inhabited planet. Can we beat the Hunter?”
“If the enemy doesn’t change course—yes,” he said. “But the Hunter is between us and the target world already. If we try to go around it, the vessel is sure to engage.”
I threw up my hands. “We can’t transmit instructions on how to build a gravity-wave unit, Gwen. We can barely talk to them, and I assume their tech is too unsophisticated to do it anyway.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “But sir… we are a phase-ship, and we are operating a gravity repellant system now. We can slip by and deploy our unit on the planet.”
I had Chang plot out the run she’d suggested.
“We have the only ship in the fleet that the Hunter will ignore,” I told Ursahn as I reported in our thoughts. “The rest of your ships haven’t had time to deploy the technology.”
“This is most brave of you, Blake. As to our own path, we’ve come to a decision. We will battle the Hunter here on this ground. If we succeed, we will have removed a threat. If we fail, at least the inhabited planet will survive.”
“Does that mean…?” I asked
“Yes. You are to fly directly toward the inhabited world and install your protective device there. We’ll occupy the Hunter in the meantime.”
“Understood. Blake out.”
I quickly ordered my crew to comply. We were working against the clock. We had to make a run right past the thing—without phasing. Using enough power to vanish would have cost us precious speed, and thus precious time.
Feeling my guts beginning to churn, I watched Dalton swing us around to a new heading. We began accelerating, flying toward the inhabited world.
The whole plan seemed crazy, especially now that I was in the midst of doing it.
=60=
Sailing past the spiny mass of the Hunter was the most nerve-wracking experience of my career as a spacer. The thing was so close, so big, it was like buzzing past a moon.
The spines shifted and thrust upward, spreading out. They were growing, I realized. We’d always wondered what the Hunter did with her insatiable appetite, and now it seemed we had an answer: she grew fresh spines and launched them at targets.
It was far from her only armament. Guns bristled at a dozen locations, set up in formations that resembled barnacles on the vast hull.
Up close and phased-in, we could see every detail. The surface was pitted and scorched. It was obvious this vessel had been opposed countless times in battle. But none had yet managed to stop her.
“We should warn off Ursahn,” Miller suggested.
“I tried, but she wants to do battle with this monster. She’s not going to listen to me.”
Tensely, we slid past the stern of the Hunter and breathed a sigh of relief. Our friend-or-foe system had spoofed the enemy AI again. Whatever kind of artificial brain the thing had, it was somewhat rigid in its thinking.
There wasn’t time to make ourselves clearly understood as we approached the small, low-tech world. We probably looked like hell-bent raiders from the stars to them—if they could detect our approach at all.
“Central landmass is directly below us, Captain,” Dalton said, flipping Hammerhead around and decelerating violently.
“Land on it. Chang, locate a good flat area that looks uninhabited.”
“The whole thing looks uninhabited, Captain,” Chang said, “but I’ll try.”
He directed us down through the puffy clouds into a world that was covered in pink, purple and brown vegetation. We zeroed in on a rocky region that was relatively flat and high, a plateau in a central mountain range.
The world itself was warm and inviting. We measured the atmosphere as we sank into it. We found an abundance of oxygen, higher than normal CO2, and plenty of nitrogen for the plants.
“Still no sign of native cities,” Chang said.
“We’re going to have to just chance it. There’s no time to send the pod down. Land this thing, Dalton.”
He did so with expert fingers dancing over his control panels. Everyone held their breath as the computers analyzed the atmosphere in more detail.
“I’m not reading any pathogens that should affect us,” Chang said.
That was good enough for me. “Samson, let’s hit the airlock.”
“Me?” he asked, startled, but he climbed out of his seat and donned a helmet without further complaint.
“Catch a few local girls for me, mates!” Dalton called after us.
We made landfall without a hitch. Carrying a technological gift, we stepped out onto a rocky plain. The self-powered gravity generator was bulky and thumped into our legs with every step.
“Hey, Leo,” Samson said. “What if these guys don’t get it? What if they throw rocks at this thing, or something, and break it?”
The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but it seemed plausible. They were somewhat primitive, and invaders from the skies had been unfriendly with them before.
“Then they’re probably screwed,” I admitted.
Gritting my teeth, I set up the unit hastily and turned it on. Samson helped me, wrestling with the folding stabilizing legs Abrams had attached to the main housing.
At last, the unit kicked on with an audible buzz and began to pulse gravity waves. That was unpleasant. It was a more powerful unit than the one Abrams had built for our ship. It had to be, as it was supposed to protect an entire planet.
As we were packing up to go, each pulse felt like a hiccup in our bellies. A hitching sensation that was sickening rather than painful.
Before we boarded the ship again, a figure appeared. It was tall, slim, and faintly attractive. It had purple-pink skin and big golden eyes. Another appeared beside it—then several more.
Where were they coming from? I suspected they were phasing in like our ship, but then I saw the truth. They lived underground. Perhaps that’s why we hadn’t seen any cities from orbit. Perhaps we’d landed right on top of one, and we’d freaked them out by putting a pulsing machine on their roof.
“These guys live underground, Leo,” Samson said. “Crap! We might be caving in their little anthill.”
“Yeah…”
I didn’t move as the group of Kher crept toward us cautiously. Samson pulled out his disruptor and waved it around.
“Should I pop one, Captain?”
“No, dammit! Put that away. We’re trying to save these people.”
Reluctantly, he did as I asked, but he kept a wary hand on the weapon.
“Hello,” I said, waving at the group that circled around us. “We’re from the sky.”
I pointed at the hazy clouds above us. They looked up, following my gesture, as if trying to see what I was pointing at.
“No, no…” I said, and I used my sym to reach out to Abrams and Chang.
“Any chance you’ve worked out a way to talk to these people?” I demanded. “I’m getting nowhere out here.”
Abrams transferred a program to my translator. It amounted to an update of the controlling app. I tried again.
“Can you understand me?” I asked one of them.
Startled, it lowered its long neck and fixed me with those golden eyes. That neck had to be a foot long. These people were the giraffes of the Kher.
“I hear,” it said.
I grinned, and that made it—or rather she, as she was nude and obviously female—cover herself with long, splayed fingers.
“Don’t smile,” Samson said. “You’re showing your teeth.”
“Oh, right.”
I made sure my lips covered my teeth, and I waved at the creature slowly, languidly. It waved back, imitating my motion.
The others were still moving around us. They all moved oddly. It was as if they were in slow-motion, but they were very graceful. It was like being surrounded by a pack of tall sloths who danced whenever they moved.
“What do you call your world?” I asked.
“Call it? It is the world.”
Listening closely, I heard a sound over the translator. It sounded something like “Gondwana” so I decided to use that word.
“We brought you a gift,” I said, indicating the gravity unit. “We give this to everyone on Gondwana.”
“It makes us sick,” the giraffe-thing complained.
“Sorry about that. But it will keep your world safe from the Hunter above.”
They conferred together in confusion. “Which Hunter? We see many with our instruments.”
“Uh… the big one.”
“Ah, the eater-of-planets?”
“Yes, that one.”
“We thank you. Can you turn it off now? It makes us sick.”
I sighed. “If I turn it off, the Hunter will come and destroy you. You can keep the Hunter away with this machine, as long as it’s turned on.”
I showed them how to operate Abrams’ unit. It was simple and intuitive, even for the giraffe-people.
When we were done with the training, they flipped it off, and I started to argue.
The female who I’d spoken with first laid a gentle hand on my arm. “Don’t worry. We understand. We will turn it back on when the eater-of-planets returns to Gondwana. We are watching the skies all the time now.”
“Okay then,” I said, and we turned to go.
A few of the giraffe people followed us to the airlock.
“May we visit your ship’s stomach?” one asked.
“Not today. We must go now and fight the planet-eater.”
They seemed saddened, but they withdrew. One at a time, they vanished into the rocky ground. They had to have trapdoors there, things that I couldn’t see. Perhaps they were built into the natural landscape.
Whatever the case, we soon lifted off and left the strange people on their strange world.
I wondered if I’d ever see any of them again, and if they’d survive another year. For a race of Kher, the people of Gondwana were very peaceful and friendly.
The Imperials were heartless monsters in comparison.
=61=
We were soon out in open space again, and the battle between the Rebel Fleet and the Hunter had begun.
Our side started with a fighter strike. It was powerful, and thousands of tiny ships participated. Most of them were heavy fighters, the type of craft I’d piloted with my friends on behalf of Earth.
Hammerhead rose up out of Gondwana’s atmosphere and applied full thrust toward the battle as if eager to join. But it was going to take us more than half an hour to get there.
“Can you get more speed of out these engines?” I demanded.
“I sure can,” Miller said, “but we’ll have to switch off the anti-grav.”
“Forget it.”
Without the anti-grav unit, at these acceleration rates, we’d be pasted against the bulkheads and probably killed within minutes.
We kept going at full burn, chasing after the Hunter and Ursahn, but I could already tell we were going to arrive too late.
“The first wave of fighters is breaking off,” Chang said several minutes later.
“That bad, huh?” I asked.
He nodded. I didn’t ask him to display the battle. It would only dishearten the crew. Using my sym, I reached out to the distant scene and sucked in a breath.
Our fighters had melted away without leaving much behind in the way of damage. The comparative scale of the Hunter was too great. It had swatted the fighters down like so many gnats.
“It’s like sending fighters to attack a moon,” Miller said. “They’ve added a few craters—nothing more.”
“Gwen,” I said, “try to get me in contact with Ursahn.”
“She won’t break off,” Samson said. “She’s too stubborn. I’ve seen her like this before.”
As if to prove his point, Ursahn didn’t even answer my call. She was in the heat of battle—if you could call it that. To me it looked more like a slaughter.
“Plot a new course, Chang,” I ordered, coming to a sudden decision. “We’re not going to join the Rebel ranks. I want to hit the Hunter in the stern.”
Miller and Gwen exchanged alarmed glances, but they said nothing.
“Mia,” I said. “Arm and prep your weapon.”
Mia had been curled in a ball on her seat, bored and dozing. At my words, however, she bounced awake. Her eyes flew wide, and she looked instantly excited.
“You mean…?”
“Yes. We’re going to engage.”
“But sir,” Miller protested finally. “We’ll be a single ship, without support on our flanks. We can’t possibly do enough damage to—”
I waved him down. “People, remember what we have aboard this ship. A friend-or-foe system. That’s full camouflage. The enemy effectively doesn’t know we’re here. In a straight fight, with them firing back—sure, we’d have no chance. But the Hunter won’t fire back.”
“We can’t be sure about that, Captain,” Gwen said. “That’s speculation.”
“Objection noted. What isn’t speculation is that the Kher fleet is getting whacked.”
It was undeniable. Chang was displaying the long-range data, and we all watched as the bleak battle continued. Ten gunboats and two destroyers were already gone, and our fleet wasn’t even in effective range yet—if there was an effective range against such a massive opponent.
The bridge crew fell silent. We plunged toward the Hunter’s stern, getting closer every second. After ten more minutes, we were within range—barely.
“Mia,” I said, “hold your fire. We’re going to hit her in the engines. If we can damage those massive exhaust complexes, we might be able to slow her down.”
“That won’t take her out,” Miller pointed out.
“True,” I said, “but at some point, those crazy Rebels out there are going to realize this is hopeless, then they’ll break and run. We can buy them some time to escape.”
Dalton locked eyes with me. “And what’s the plan after that? When the Hunter wises up and turns on us?”
“If that happens, we’ll phase out.”
It was a plan, but no one aboard looked happy about it. I knew what they were thinking. The Hunter might decide to target us at any moment, destroying us as a mere nuisance. We knew the friend-or-foe system worked to mask ships that harmlessly passed the Hunter—but we had no proof of how the AI would react when attacked by a ship it was programmed to ignore.
The Hunter grew and grew. It felt like we were too close, but that was just because of its incredible size. When we reached optimal range, Mia began firing—she didn’t even ask for confirmation as her orders had been clear.
If there was anyone aboard who loved to handle a large gun, it was Mia. The people of Ral had the instincts of violent predators. They especially loved ambushing an unaware foe.
The first salvo caught one of the starboard engine ports with a direct hit. The enemy ship was shielded—but with so much mass to cover, the shielding was far from perfect. Visible debris streamed away from the Hunter like a streak of blood trailing behind a wounded fish.
“Recharge,” I ordered. “Same target—fire at will.”
Mia worked her weapon excitedly. It was her first time at bat with something so powerful and effective. Everyone else on the deck looked sick with worry—but not her. She was alive at last. If I’d put my ear to her chest, I would have probably heard a rumbling growl that went on and on.
We fired twice more. The enemy shield didn’t buckle, however. In fact, it strengthened, changing from a glimmering orange to a glassy blue-white.
“The Hunter is reacting!” Gwen said, chewing on her lower lip. “That’s a clear response.”
“Yes, but it’s purely defensive,” I said. “We’re pulling this off. Maybe this is the way to kill these things. Next time, we’ll put a friend-or-foe system on every ship in the fleet and knock it to death with a thousand shots while it stands by idly.”
“I want to be there when we do it,” Mia said, releasing another salvo.
The deck heaved and rippled under us, but with the anti-gravity turned on, it was barely noticeable.
Perhaps encouraged by our example, the Rebel ships rushed closer on the far side of the enemy ship. They rained fire down on the front of the hull. Some blasts penetrated—but then disaster struck.
One of the big missiles the Hunter had fired—a spine miles long—caught one of our three battleships and took it out. The missile was so large, it seemed immune to countermeasures. It disintegrated into flechettes and tore the battleship apart.
“They’ve got to break and run—right now,” I said. “Keep firing, Mia.”
She did so, launching her seventh salvo. After that one struck home, the enemy’s shielding over the exhaust port we’d been pounding this entire time flickered out.
A few grunts and guttural cries went up as my crew released pent-up anxieties.
“You see?” I asked. “The Hunter—”
“Captain!” Dalton called out. “She’s rotating her flank turrets!”
He was right. The Hunter was armed with numerous batteries of turrets that encrusted her hull. These tightly bunched arrays of guns looked like spiny sea anemones, placed at regular intervals. Two of them in the aft portion of the massive hull were now swinging their clusters of guns to target us.
“Phase out Miller!” I shouted.
“It will take a bit, sir,” he said, battling his controls. “The main gun drains our primary power capacitance down to—”
That was as far as he got with his uninteresting excuses. The enemy had us aligned, now, and the turrets were firing. They appeared to be rail guns, tubes that accelerated projectiles to terrific velocities.
“Shields up,” I shouted. “Dalton, evasion pattern four.”
We began to slide from side-to-side. Mia’s weapon was robbed of power, and our forward shields sprang into life. Samson was working his defensive measures, deploying everything we had. The blast shielding closed like a clamshell over the bridge, turning the hull opaque again.
Miller shook his head. “Sir, we can’t phase for seven more seconds if we engage the shields.”
“We don’t have seven seconds, Ensign,” I said.
As if to illustrate my point, Hammerhead was struck violently. One of the rail gun shots had landed, knocking out our belly-shield and gouging a hole in the lower decks. We went into a barrel roll, a reaction to depressurization.
Then the bridge’s power failed, and we were cast into darkness.
=62=
Emergency lights flickered on, casting a wan reddish glow over our instruments and faces.
“Damage report,” I called out.
Samson answered, as he was my defensive countermeasures officer. “We took it hard in the prow, lower deck. We lost a forward compartment, and we have a bulkhead breach.”
The ship was divided into three decks from bow to stern, each with five compartments. These compartments were separated by bulkheads—heavy walls with sealed hatches linking them together. We’d lost the two forward compartments of the lower deck, which housed our forward shield generators—main and auxiliary.
“We’ve got no shields in front of us now, Captain,” Samson said. “We can’t take another hit on the nose—we’ll be knocked out.”
“Timing, Miller?” I asked in the calmest voice I could muster.
“I need another thirty seconds, Captain.”
“Dalton,” I said, “spin us around. Aim our stern toward the enemy.”
The shielding of the engine sections was lighter than those that had protected our prow, but any shield was better than nothing.
“Roger that,” Dalton said, working his helm controls.
He expertly continued his evasion pattern, despite the fact we were now inverted and effectively hurtling backward.
Mia, for her part, sat back in disgust. She could only fire her main weapon forward—and now the enemy was behind us.
“Seven…” Miller began counting. “Six… Five…”
“They’re firing again,” Chang said in his typical, calm voice. I’d always thought the man would die without even bothering to shift expressions.
“Four… Three…”
I gritted my teeth. We couldn’t afford to get hit hard in the tail. Even if we survived it, we’d probably lose our engine and be almost helpless.
“Two… One…”
There was a flash, and a report. The walls shook, but the anti-gravity and inertial-dampening systems kept us from feeling the full brunt of it. Only the air pressure inside the ship transmitted the impact to us.
“Phasing out,” Miller said.
“Have we got engines?” I asked.
“Helm is responding,” Dalton said in relief. “Veering off to new heading.”
We dove away at a random angle, getting away from our last known position so the Hunter couldn’t nail us with a lucky shot.
For a few moments, I continued to feel panicky inside. The Hunter had turned on us, breaking our cover. Could it have technology to pierce our phasing effect? If it did, we were all dead.
The damage reports were already coming in. We’d lost another compartment on the mid-deck. That last hit hadn’t nailed our engines, fortunately, but it had gouged a streak down our hull. I barely listened as Samson relayed this to me and took appropriate actions to control the situation. I kept watching the Hunter, wondering what it would do next.
Our entire attack had been a big gamble. The whole point of the friend-or-foe hack was to slip by the enemy and hope the AI ignored us. I doubted it would be fooled again.
“Captain,” Chang said. “The Rebel Fleet is breaking off. They’re forming rifts and exiting the system.”
I nodded. We had no such options. We weren’t going to be able to do much now, other than watch the Hunter in action.
When the last of the Rebel ships vanished, the Hunter slowed down. It turned slowly. We all watched, breathless.
“I don’t think she can see us,” Chang said. “I’m plotting her course, and she’s not going in our direction.”
We heaved a collective sigh of relief. “Display her course as soon as you nail it down, Chang,” I said.
He worked, and the rest of us all pitched in on repairs. I dispatched most of my crew to the two damaged compartments. We’d lost three crewmen down there. They’d been blasted out into space, and there were no pings coming in from their emergency suits.
It wasn’t a surprise. Sudden decompression and exposure to open space with the full physical effects of our ship’s rapid maneuvers would kill just about anyone. They’d probably bounced along the side of our ship—maybe burning up in our exhaust, or being crushed by what was left of our layered deflector shields.
Gwen looked glum. “The external radiation alone…” she said, trailing off.
“They’re gone, I know,” I said. “But we did what we could to help the Fleet, and this ship is still functional.”
“Captain,” Chang called out. “I have the projections you requested now.”
“Display them, main screens.”
He did as I asked, and we all stared in disbelief.
“But…” Gwen said. “You put down a friend-or-foe unit on Gondwana, didn’t you?”
“I did indeed,” I said, feeling a cold, sick sensation grow in my guts.
“Then why is the Hunter bypassing all the other worlds?” she demanded. “Why is it heading directly toward those harmless giraffe-people?”
I didn’t answer right away, but I knew the reason.
“Could they have stupidly turned the unit off?” she asked.
I shook my head. “If they’d done that, the Hunter would have gone back to destroying the worlds farthest out from their sun. But it isn’t—it’s skipping several planets to get to Gondwana. It clearly plans to devour the inhabited world next.”
“But why?” she demanded.
“It has to be that we taught the AI—no, I taught it—to reclassify our signal. It’s prioritized any object that emits that signal.”
“Reclassify…” Miller said. “I get it. From friend… to foe.”
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t even look at him. I felt sick. I’d killed all those people.
Here I sat in a crippled ship, unable to do battle. Unable to leave the star system unaided. We were going to be treated to a front row seat when the Hunter reached Gondwana and erased it from the cosmos.
“Dalton,” I said. “Swing around and follow that Hunter.”
He glanced at me, giving me an expression that clearly indicated he thought I’d gone mad, but he didn’t say anything. He did as I’d ordered.
The big ship zoomed by us, having reversed course. It was bearing down on Gondwana without remorse.
“Can we keep up?” I asked.
“Plotting…” Chang said. “Yes. We can maintain phasing and match its pace. The Hunter isn’t very fast—but it seems to be unstoppable.”
Truer words had never been spoken. We sat glumly, watching reports and anticipating at the coming calamity. I had Gwen send warning messages, but if the people on Gondwana were listening, they didn’t reply. They didn’t turn off the friend-or-foe system, which had converted them into a big fat target.
Abrams came up to harangue me after a time. He told me I was six kinds of fool for having deprogrammed the enemy AI.
I endured his bullshit stoically. It was the least I could do, a sort of penance for having destroyed a world full of innocents.
Another hour went by. My coffee went cold, but I was too upset, too torn up inside to care.
This had to be my single greatest failure as a human being. Sure, I’d done lots of things wrong in my time. You could ask any one of a hundred girls I’d taken on a date for an easy confirmation of that.
But this was big. It wasn’t about a ship, or a crew—or even a fleet. I’d hastened the deaths of… how many? There had to be millions down there.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Samson said, sensing my mood. “At least, not entirely. You took a shot. That’s all we can do with incomplete information. What if you’d blown the tail off that Hunter? That would have been a big win.”
I shook my head. “I was a fool. I was too cocky. I took too big of a chance.”
“Nah… listen,” he said. “That’s not real. You’re blaming yourself for killing that planet, but the truth is, it was doomed anyway. The Hunter is just speeding things up by a few days, that’s all.”
Dalton cackled.
“Is that right?” he asked. “Think again. We trained the AI on that ship to hate the friend signal, rather than avoid it. If we’d left well enough alone, it would have eaten every other planet in this system, burped, then moved on to fresh game somewhere else.”
I listened to this exchange, but I didn’t join in their conversation. I was frowning, thinking hard. There had to be a way out of this.
“Captain?” Chang called out several minutes later.
“What have you got?” I asked him.
“A rift. Behind us—someone has just come into the system.”
I looked at his data, and I came to a fast decision.
“Helm, engines reverse,” I said. “Decelerate at full-power. Give me some distance between the Hunter and our ship, Dalton.”
“Now you’re talking, Captain!” Dalton said, making the vessel shiver as we slowed down and stopped tagging along behind the Hunter.
“Miller, as soon as we’re out of range, phase in. Gwen, the minute we do, hail that ship.”
“On it,” Miller said, putting his hands on his console.
We waited tensely. My crew had fallen quiet again when they’d heard we were phasing back in. They’d thought they were in the clear, but now they weren’t so sure. I knew what was going through their minds: Blake is never going to be happy until we’re all dead.
After several painful minutes, Miller killed the phasing system. We were in normal space a moment later. Gwen hailed the ship that was behind us, and she looked surprised when the channel was accepted.
“It’s Killer sir,” she said, looking at me. “Ursahn wants to speak to you.”
I used my sym and talked to her quickly. I filled her in on the situation, and I told her how we might be able to save Gondwana.
Right from the start, she was against the idea.
“Captain Blake,” she said. “You are still part of my task force. I came back as a matter of honor, to retrieve your ship. The Rebel Fleet will be stronger with you among us.”
“Listen to me—” I said.
“No, you listen to me. Come alongside my ship and join my formation. My ship will form a rift, and we will jump out of this doomed system.”
It was reasonable—even inevitable. But I didn’t want to give up on those gentle people down there.
“Message received,” I said. “Message understood. We’ve sustained damage, however. Please move to our position so we can exit the system more quickly.”
Ursahn hesitated, then agreed.
The moment she was out of my head, I turned to Dalton. “Chase that Hunter. Don’t make it look obvious. Mia?”
She sat up suddenly.
“Warm up your gun,” I said. “We’re going to need it one more time.”
Happily, she did as I asked.
=63=
We caught up with the Hunter about an hour later. The moment we were within our maximum range I ordered Mia to shoot the huge vessel in the ass.
“Captain,” Miller said, “I must point out that we can’t do any damage at all at this range. We can’t even knock down a single shield.”
“I’m aware of that, Ensign. That’s not our purpose.”
“What are we doing then?” Gwen asked. “Pissing it off?”
I pointed a finger at her and nodded. “You’ve got it.”
Mia fired about then without further orders. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was attacking things.
A shot of heavy radiation lanced out, traveling for several seconds before it splashed harmlessly over the enemy exhaust port.
“I targeted the same one as last time,” Mia said, smiling.
“The Hunter is slowing down,” Chang warned.
We watched tensely for a moment.
“Hit it again, Mia.”
She did so, but she looked a little worried. She knew she couldn’t do any damage at this range.
The shot flew true, however, and made the enemy shielding flash and buzz momentarily.
“It’s changing course, Captain,” Chang said, “coming about.”
“Perfect. Dalton, reverse course and run for Killer.”
Miller cleared his throat. “Captain? Should I engage the phasing system?”
“No,” I said firmly. “If we do that, we’ll lose it again.”
They were all tense, but they didn’t complain further. We ran, first decelerating then heading back the other way. After some time passed, we got a call from Ursahn.
“Don’t think I didn’t observe your actions, Blake,” she told me, speaking in my head.
“Sorry, Captain?” I asked. “I’m heading back to rendezvous with Killer. Our ETA is—”
“Belay that excrement!” she boomed at me. “You disobeyed an order, and I’m considering leaving you here.”
“That is your prerogative, Captain,” I said. “But we will reach your position in about twenty minutes—I suggest you form a rift now, whether you intend to run from battle or not.”
“Run from battle?” she sputtered. “What’s this? Insults on top of injuries? You suggest I’m a coward?”
“I’m only making observations, sir. Your ship is leaving this system, while mine is engaged in battle against an enemy. True, that enemy appears to be large and frightening. There’s no shame in running under such circumstances. No shame at all.”
Ursahn became increasingly irate as I spoke these words. No warrior among her people liked to be told they were cowards—hell, no one else did, either.
“It’s not cowardice if you can’t defeat a foe,” she said, displaying an alarming number of large, pointed teeth.
“We can defeat the Hunter. Not directly, but we can engineer its demise.”
I then outlined a plan privately to Ursahn. It was risky, it might not even be possible, but I considered it to be our only option.
“Your plan is madness!” she declared when I’d finished.
“It’s the only way.”
“We’ll scatter. By the nine suns of my people, we’ll scatter right into a star’s corona!”
“We might, Captain,” I said. “We might. But that is the definition of bravery—taking chances to achieve victory.”
She closed the channel, and our two ships plunged toward one another.
We watched the rift open as we came near. The enemy Hunter was right on my tail, but still out of effective range.
That was by design. I wanted the enemy to be right behind us when I plunged behind Killer into the rift. Maybe, just maybe, it would follow us.
If it did, I had a surprise waiting for it on the far side.
After a nail-biting run in normal space, the Hunter almost caught up to us as planned. I wanted it to be almost within reach when it had to make its decision.
Right at the end, it seemed to ease off. Perhaps it was estimating that we would escape it.
“Abrams,” I called to the lower decks. “Drop our gravity-pulse unit overboard.”
“That’s impossible, Blake,” he snapped back.”
I showed my teeth in anger.
“I won’t ask you again,” I said. “Put the friend-or-foe unit into an airlock and push it out into space. Make sure you leave it switched on. If you don’t do so, I’ll push you in the airlock instead.”
“That’s a valuable piece of equipment,” he complained. “Earth needs my prototype so that we can build more of them.”
“Abrams,” I said, getting up from my command chair and waving for Gwen to take over. “I’m coming down there. You’d better be following my orders.”
“Part of my lab was damaged in that madness earlier,” he complained. “I’ll have a great deal of difficulty repeating my work later. A prototype, adjusted correctly, may cause the enemy AI to ignore us again. Besides which—”
I cut the connection. I was already floating down the central passageway, hand-over-handing it expertly along its length. When I reached the correct hatch, I darted through the floor to the lower decks.
When I reached his labs, I found him scrambling to lever the unit away from its moorings. He’d done nothing to prepare the system for deployment in space until I’d threatened to come down there in person.
He made a squawking sound when he saw me and clawed at the bolts on the bottom.
I shoved him roughly aside and put a power-wrench on the bolt heads. They came off one at a time in rapid order.
Had he been stalling? Even now when I was physically present and raging? It was hard to believe.
At last, I got the thing free from its moorings. It floated once I lifted it from the floor, as we were in anti-gravity mode.
“Help me, you stubborn bastard!” I grunted.
He joined me, and we manhandled the object into an airlock. It barely fit.
“That’s our last one,” he complained. “You’ve left a unit on two worlds, and now, without giving me a chance to duplicate a thousand careful settings—”
“Shut up,” I said. “If this works, it will all be justified.”
I slammed the palm of my hand down on a large, flat button and the airlock doors whooshed shut. Striking another button—a red one this time—I watched as the object was launched out into space by a puff of escaping gas.
We stood shoulder to shoulder, panting, and watched through a tiny triangular window. The friend-or-foe system, which the Hunter AI had now reclassified as “foe” spun around end over end.
“Do you think this will work?” Abrams asked me.
“We’ll find out soon enough. Prepare to enter the rift. We’re jumping in about forty five seconds.”
=64=
We spent a long time in hyperspace. Usually, entering a rift and exiting the other side took only minutes—this time it was closer to half an hour.
I didn’t exactly know what that meant, but it was frightening. One of the biggest worries complicating any long jump across lightyears was the possibility of “scattering” and ending up separated and lost. I knew that ships were sometimes able to return after scattering—but not always. Support ships like Hammerhead couldn’t create rifts on their own. If we scattered, Killer would probably never find us.
Even if we held tightly to our mothership, any mistake could be deadly. What, for example, would we do if we came out within the gravitational reach of a black hole? The closer you got to the center of the galaxy, the closer such objects became. When a capital ship scattered, it wasn’t able to jump again for several minutes—a delay that could be fatal to an entire task force.
There were plenty of more mundane hazards as well. Even a misplaced planet could ruin your day when you were traveling at speeds approaching a million miles an hour and popping out of the far end of a rift.
Not only were we making a long jump this time, but we’d been flying at speed when we entered. That momentum would still be with us when we came out the other end, possibly dooming our ship.
“What is our beacon star?” I asked Chang.
He didn’t answer right away. I frowned at him and turned around. As our astronavigator, no question could be more important.
“Chang?”
“I’m still processing, Captain,” he said. “Ursahn set the beacon herself, and she didn’t inform us about it or the final destination. Perhaps there wasn’t time, or she went right up to the final moments before making the decision. Right now I’m navigating purely by maintaining a tight relationship between her ship’s course and ours.”
“That’s great…” I said. “A long jump, no beacon star for independent measurement, and we can’t talk to her due to being inside a stellar flux. We’re flying by gravity influences alone, right?”
“Essentially, Captain. But I do have an educated guess as to what beacon we’re using… I would estimate we’re using Wezen.”
I squinted at him. “Wezen?”
“Yes, a yellow supergiant otherwise known as Delta Canis Majoris.”
“That’s pretty far out…”
“It’s about six thousand lightyears from Epsilon Auragae, the beacon star closest to our point of origin.”
A moment of stunned silence reigned on the bridge as this sunk in.
“We’ve never jumped more than a thousand lights before,” Gwen said, “if that.”
“Can we even go that far?” Samson asked.
Gwen nodded. She was white-faced and even Miller looked worried.
“We can,” she said. “It’s just not a good idea. The farther you go in one jump, the greater chance you have of scattering and ending up somewhere you don’t want to be.”
“Why’d Ursahn choose such a distant target then?” Dalton asked. “Does she want to die in the dark out here?”
“People,” I said, deciding it was time to confess, “we’re striking deep into Imperial territory.”
They looked alarmed. More alarmed, even, than they’d looked when they’d learned we were jumping six thousand lightyears.
“That’s crazy!” Gwen said. “Why?”
“If it works out, you’ll all understand. Just wait—I think the terminus is coming up. We’re exiting hyperspace soon. Get everyone strapped in.”
They scrambled to obey. Klaxons rang out all over the ship. Every deck, including the damaged compartments, reported in. We sealed every bulkhead and stoked up our shield generators to maximum.
If we were to encounter any light debris when we returned to normal space, our shields could have absorbed it all if they were full power. Unfortunately, the shield generators in the prow had been taken out.
I didn’t bother to point this out to anyone, and neither did Samson. If they’d been paying attention, they probably already knew.
Less than a minute later, we burst out of hyperspace and into normal space. The transition gave me an odd feeling, as always. We suddenly existed again, and we were moving at speed on an unknown course. Immediately, alarms began to shriek and the ship began to vibrate.
“I’m getting particle hits, sir!” Samson reported.
The update was hardly necessary. The whole ship was bucking and the hull was screaming like it was on fire. We had a light, fully-encompassing shield up, or we would have been cooked by friction. Even a single mote of dust in every cubic foot could turn into a brick wall at high speeds.
“Spin around and decelerate!” I ordered. “All power to aft shields!”
Dalton worked the helm. He was ahead of me, having already engaged a script to do exactly that the moment we broke through into normal space.
“Hull temperature rising—we’re disintegrating, Captain,” Samson said.
“Captain,” Chang said evenly. “At this rate we’ll burn up before we can slow down.”’
“Damn…” I said, thinking fast. “Dalton, can you see Killer?” I demanded. “Use my perception feed.”
For reasons I’d never quite understood, I was better than most at slaving our sensors to my sym and using the technology to “perceive” our surroundings in an overall sense. It was like having a three-dimensional vision that could zoom-in over distances. That was one of the major reasons I’d been successful as a fighter pilot.
In this case, we were partially blinded by dust strikes which rendered most of our sensors useless. Optical pickups, sonar, radar—it was all useless when you were in the middle of a dust cloud that was probably lightyears across.
But our most reliable detection systems in such environments were gravity sensors. Even if you were in the middle of a storm, you still felt the Earth’s gravity when you stood on her surface.
By processing micro-gravitational influences, we were able to locate Killer. I relayed that data to Dalton.
“I… I’ve got her, Captain. Thanks for the feed.”
“Get closer to her. She’s decelerating too, so all we have to do is coast. Tuck into her stern wake. She’s got full shielding.”
“Right… I’ll give it a go!”
We lurched and the hull sang loudly around us. We were gliding instead of braking, burning our hull in order to get close to Killer.
“We’re down to sixty percent hull integrity,” Samson said. “We’ll start losing compartment stability in the next minute or so.”
“Gwen, order the crew to abandon the most dangerous compartments,” I said, feeling sweat trickle over my body. I tried to absorb all the data the ship was feeding to me.
“I’ve got Killer aligned,” Dalton said. “Closing...”
“Ease us in. Gwen, try to contact Ursahn.”
“Too much interference.”
My fist pounded idly on the arm of my command chair. “Damn it. We need just a few more seconds…”
“Our speed is good,” Samson announced. “We’re overtaking Killer, so I’m gradually going to try to merge our shields with her.”
“Good idea…” I said. “Good…”
He did this, and the turbulence subsided. We had more time to breathe with our fantail almost nudging Ursahn’s much larger ship. With the envelope of two shields locked together, we were in less danger.
After another tense minute, we docked with Killer and fell into her comforting orbit. Carrier ships had powerful shields. Their basic mode of battle was to send out clouds of fighters as offensive weapons then focus on surviving whatever came at them using passive defenses like shielding.
When we were physically docked with Killer, Ursahn was finally able to contact us.
“What are you doing, Blake?” Ursahn asked.
I explained the situation. She’d never gotten a full damage report concerning my ship earlier—there hadn’t been time.
“All right,” she said. “We’ll decrease our speed and help you make repairs. Let’s link our navigational computers and let AI pilot both ships until we get out of this dust pocket.”
“Are you sure it’s a pocket, sir?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Every expanse of dust in the galaxy is finite. We just have to find our way out of it.”
The channel closed, and I chewed my lower lip thoughtfully. She hadn’t said anything about detecting an enemy ship.
That simple fact depressed me. My gambit had failed. We’d obviously scattered to God-knew-where—worse, my trap hadn’t worked.
The Hunter hadn’t followed us into the rift. It must still be back in the Gondwana system, eating planets.
=65=
Once we managed to slow down and stop the erosion of our hull, the dust storm we’d encountered became only a nuisance.
The cloud of debris was nowhere near as thick as one might encounter on Earth, of course. If it had been anything like a sandstorm on Mars or the Sahara Desert, we’d all have been instantly killed. Dust clouds in space were quite diffuse, but they were also very large. They tended to obscure vision, making stars appear ghostly and wreathed in velvety soup, but they rarely blanked out regions of space completely.
“Where the hell are we?” I asked Chang about twenty minutes later.
“We’re out of immediate danger,” Dalton answered, sighing and massaging his neck. “That’s good enough for me.”
Chang studied his data closely. It was mostly gravimetric-based, which took some effort to interpret correctly.
“We’ve scattered,” he announced after several minutes.
Samson groaned aloud. “No shit, Doc! But where?”
Chang brought up several screens, which formed a three-dimensional image on the hull all around us.
“The beacon star is here—about seven lightyears off. This local region of space is populated, but the nearest star is around a thousand AU away.”
“A thousand AU…” I said, marveling. “That would take us days to cover at low speeds.”
“Yes… worse, it’s on the far side of the dust cloud we’ve just come through. Circumnavigating it would take—”
I shook my head. “We’ll never do that. There’s no point. This mission didn’t work out as I’d hoped.”
“Our ship survived,” Miller said. “The enemy Hunter has been left behind. What more did you hope to accomplish?”
“I’d hoped the Hunter would follow us,” I explained. “That was the plan. They were supposed to chase us into the rift, and end up here with us—only ‘here’ was supposed to be closer to an Imperial star system.”
Miller shook his head, unbelieving. “So this was your plan?” he asked. “To jump into enemy territory near an Imperial home base?”
The rest of them looked confused for a second, but Dalton caught on first. “I get it! What a rat-fucking good idea!”
“You’ve got nothing,” Samson said to him. “You’re just trying to sound smart.”
“Not this time,” Dalton said. “Our captain is a vicious man. He meant to lead the Hunter into the middle of an Imperial system and let it eat their planets for a change.”
I nodded to him and gave him a conspiratorial smile.
“That wouldn’t work,” Gwen said. “The enemy ships all seem to have friend-or-foe systems. The Hunter wouldn’t attack them—oh, wait…”
Dalton formed a pistol with his fingers and shot her with it. “Now you get it! The scheme is diabolical. The local Imperials would have turned on their little bug-repellant machines—and instantly driven our Hunter mad.”
“Yes,” I said. “That was my hope. The AI has been retrained to attack ships that generate the ‘friendly’ signal. The Imperials would have had to deal with a serious enemy.”
“In the meantime, we could slip away again,” Samson marveled. “Such cunning. Mark me as impressed, Captain Blake.”
“But what do we do now, Captain?” Miller asked. “Since it didn’t work?”
“I guess we’ll repair our ship and head back to Rebel space,” I said, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
“Captain…” Gwen said in an odd tone of voice.
Something in that tone made me turn to her immediately. “What is it?”
“I’m picking up—yes, there’s a signal being broadcast from inside this vessel. A signal I can’t decode.”
“Where is it coming from?” I demanded.
“The brig, Captain. Lael must be doing it somehow.”
“Captain,” Miller said seriously, “we are in Imperial territory.”
“Damn it,” I said. “Alert the security team, have them meet me at the brig!”
Hammerhead was such a small ship it didn’t have much in the way of prison cells. At some point the designers must have calculated that during long voyages in space, someone might need to get locked up—but they hadn’t put much thought into it.
As a consequence, our brig was makeshift at best. It consisted of a single cabin on the lower deck, located between the engine rooms and Abrams labs. The cabin was in all ways identical to a standard crew cabin, built to hold up to four bunks in extremely tight circumstances. The only real difference was the door, which had no porthole, and could only be locked from the outside.
As the ship was built out of tough layered alloys, it was impossible for a prisoner to escape. Even the ventilation ducts were only a few inches wide.
When I reached the cell door, two security people stood at either side of it. They looked at me, alarmed but determined.
“What have we got, Captain?” asked the chief who’d been put in charge of the cell and its sole occupant.
“Incompetence and failure in your department, Chief,” I said sternly. “The prisoner is sending out encoded signals somehow. In case she’s managed to arm herself as well, I requested your help.”
The chief went pale. “I—I don’t understand, Captain…”
“All will be made clear soon,” I said, taking a physical code-key out of his numb fingers and applying it to the cell door.
The two men lifted their weapons and tensed. I flung the door open.
Lael was there, lounging on the bottom bunk. Her face bore a smug expression.
“About time you came to check on me,” she said. “I thought you’d forgotten about your highest-ranking guest.”
My eyes darted around the spare chamber. There were very few hiding places. I moved into the chamber and ordered my security men to search the bunks.
Lael stood up and looked annoyed as they tore up her bedding.
That’s when I noticed the wand in her hand. She was idly tapping at her fingernails with it.
Snatching it out of her hands, I examined it closely. She made an angry noise and tried to retrieve it.
“I’m confiscating this,” I told her. “If you continue to resist, I’ll have you put in restraints.”
She crossed her arms and glared at me.
The security men finished their search and the Chief put up his hands in defeat.
“Captain,” he said, “I don’t see how…”
I poked him in the chest with the wand. He recoiled in surprise.
“How did the prisoner come into possession of this device?” I demanded.
“Well sir,” the Chief said. “It’s a personal item from her effects. We ran a test on it, and it came back as inert as a hairbrush. She asked for it, so…”
Captain Lael was looking down, smiling slightly. This pissed me off.
“Chief, you’re demoted,” I said. “You’re now a spacer, first class.”
“A what, sir?”
“In the Rebel Fleet, that’s equivalent to a private in the Air Force. You—”
I turned to the other security man. These two were the only people I had aboard who were security.
“—you’re the chief now. Effective immediately. Take this wand and return it to the locker where it came from.”
The two men looked stunned, but they had the good sense not to argue.
“Now, get out. I’m going to have a little talk with our guest.”
They left, and I slammed the cell door behind them.
“Tap when you want out, Captain!” called my new security chief.
I turned back to Lael, but I found she’d sat back on her bunk again. She looked at me expectantly.
“You know why I’m here,” I said. “Start talking.”
“Talking? I thought you were going to abuse me.”
As she said this, she uncrossed her legs in a move that was quite provocative. I ignored the action, but I had to wonder if she’d used such tactics effectively on my former security chief.
“What?” I demanded. “No, we’re not like Imperials. Earthmen don’t torment prisoners—at least those of us from my country don’t.”
“Well then, what are we going to talk about?” she said, crossing her legs again.
“You sent out a signal. An encoded signal, with your wand. I want to know what that was all about.”
“Can you really be that dense, Captain Blake?” she asked.
All pretense of seduction and friendliness had vanished. She laughed.
“We’re in an Imperial star system, aren’t we?” she asked me.
I stared at her for a moment. “How did you know that?”
“My wand,” she said, “it must have sensed a deep space probe. A signal out here that looks like background radiation to your instruments, perhaps. It activated, and I knew.”
“I see. So you used it to transmit a distress call?”
“Of course,” she said, looking smug again. “And now, I’m going to have to ask you for your surrender.”
“My what?”
“If you place yourself in my custody right now, Blake,” she said. “I’ll give you my word that only you will be tortured to death. The rest of your crew will be treated leniently for their crimes. They will have to die, of course, but it will be quick. Gas, probably. What do you say?”
My mouth opened, but no sound came from it. I didn’t know what to say.
=66=
“You’re crazy,” I told Captain Lael. “Why should I surrender my ship to you? I should push you out of an airlock instead.”
“The skull is large, but the brain is small…” she replied. “Try to think, ape-man. I know that head of yours isn’t bone all the way through. You’re in an impossible position. Your ship is badly damaged—I felt all the bumps and heard all the alarms—and I’ve summoned local Imperial forces.”
“Even if what you say is true,” I said, “we can always open a new rift and run away again.”
She laughed at me. “You sad, ignorant man. Don’t your Rebel leaders tell you anything? Such as, why they never venture to attack our forces, they only huddle around their own planets waiting for destruction?”
Despite my desire to grab and shake her, all I did was wait for her to continue.
“Let me tell you why—it’s out of fear,” she continued. “A full knowledge of how hopelessly outmatched you’d be. You see, every Imperial star system is protected by a warp dissipater.”
“A what?”
“A device that ensures the integrity of local space for nearly a lightyear radius around the central star. These devices prevent any vessel from forming a working rift. Once any group of ships enter one of our star systems they’re trapped here indefinitely.”
This was crushing news. I tried not to let my dismay show on my face—but I must not have managed to completely suppress my state of mind.
“Ah, poor Blake. Such a promising slave. I shall sniffle when our enforcers finally put down your ravaged corpse.”
“If what you say is true, I’m going to use you as a hostage,” I said.
“That’s irrational,” she said. “You can’t win. Not even if you brought a thousand ships with you on this fools journey. You’re trapped here, and the Imperial Fleet knows it. All you’re doing is causing more anguish for your innocent crewmen.”
“You’ll die with us, Lael,” I said, tapping on the cell door.
“Fool!” she called after me. “I’m giving you a chance. A chance to ease great suffering and fear. You’re arrogant and selfish. Bestow mercy upon your crew, Blake!”
The door opened, and my new chief looked in at us. I stepped out of the cell and slammed it in Lael’s face.
“Don’t talk to her,” I said to the security men. “You’ve already screwed up, don’t make it any worse.”
Neither man said anything. They studied the deck until I left the compartment.
My next stop was Abrams’ lab.
“Doc,” I said, “we could be in trouble.”
Abrams snorted with laughter. “Do you think?” he said. “And who led us here?”
“Is there such a thing as a warp dissipater?” I asked him.
“A warp dissipater…? You mean some method of preventing the formation of a rift?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well…” he said thoughtfully. “It stands to reason such a technology might exist. FTL travel requires the creation of a very delicate region of interphased space. Disrupting that process shouldn’t be too difficult to accomplish, in theory. Why do you ask? Is Ursahn having trouble forming a new escape hatch out of this star system?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to go talk to her next.”
He asked to accompany me, but I denied that request. He sputtered and complained about being left in the dark as I walked out and headed for the docking tubes. I summoned Miller to accompany me, just in case.
Boarding Killer and exiting the docking chamber, we warily watched the ground crews swarming over fighters on the hangar deck. This time, none of them seemed interested in attacking us, so we proceeded to the lifts and Killer’s command deck.
There, things took on a different mood. We’d seen busy fighter crews, but the bridge crew was almost frantic. I stood respectfully to one side and tried to flag down a lieutenant. When that finally worked, I got him to request an audience with Ursahn.
“Why don’t you just contact her with your sym?” Miller asked me.
“I’ve been trying. She’s in local command mode, not taking off-ship calls right now.”
“But we have critical information!”
“That’s why we’re here,” I told him.
We waited, and after a few minutes Ursahn came over to greet me.
“I’m sorry Blake,” she said. “I have no time for pleasantries. We’re dealing with a systems failure.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “You can’t get the warp core to generate a stable rift.”
She stared at me then walked away. She beckoned for me to follow.
I did, and she led me into her office. When Miller tried to follow, one of her huge hands stopped him. He was left out in the hallway.
“Have you visited Imperial space before, Blake?” she asked me suspiciously.
“No, of course not. I’ve never flown a ship with FTL capability.”
“Untrue. You were briefly in control of an Imperial cruiser during our last conflict.”
“Uh… right. But that was only for a few jumps. I never reached Imperial space—I was trying to get back home.”
She gave me a hard stare. “Very well. What do you want, and what do you know about our current predicament?”
“Captain Lael told me we’re within the Imperial sphere of influence. She could tell with a personal device she had on her person. She told me that we wouldn’t be able to escape, and that Imperial ships would be coming here soon to destroy us.”
Ursahn looked upset—at least, that’s how I interpreted her curling lips and exposed teeth.
“I forgot about that spy you took aboard your ship. We should have spaced her immediately—but in any case, she is correct on both accounts.”
“Both? You mean there’s an Imperial force coming here?”
“Yes. Killer has much better long-range scanners that your homegrown phase-ship. Tap into our sensor array and see for yourself.”
I did as she’d invited me to do. I could perceive the hull, then the exterior, then deep, open space. Far from there I could see beyond the dust cloud. A livable sun hung nearby. There were planets—and a flotilla of ships. They were gathering into a large formation.
It was difficult to make out the size and configuration of each, but they seemed to be mostly cruisers. There were perhaps six hundred of them, all told.
“Hmm…” I said. “It will take them weeks to get here, fortunately.”
She laughed. It was a rumbling affair, but with a hint of bitterness buried in it.
“I’m afraid you are in error. They will make a short-range jump, opening a rift that leads from their world to here.”
“They can do that? Even with the warp dissipater?”
“It wouldn’t be terribly useful if it couldn’t be switched off for a fraction of a second—just long enough to let them create a rift to wherever they want to go.”
“Right… I guess not. They wouldn’t be able to fly between their own worlds without that.”
Suddenly, Captain Lael’s words about surrendering were striking home. She’d been confident, so damnably smug. Perhaps her behavior hadn’t been an elaborate bluff after all.
If six hundred ships could hop from there to here—well, we had no chance at all.
“It seems that Rebel Command has always known about warp dissipaters,” I said. “What I don’t understand is why I haven’t heard of them before.”
She shrugged her heavy shoulders. “To admit we knew about them would be to admit we’d visited their space. Rebel Command never wanted that known. It would only give the Imperials an excuse for a final purge—if they needed one.”
“I see… plausible deniability.”
“What?”
“It’s an Earth term. It describes a skilled liar who can make a good pretense that his lie is true.”
Ursahn shook her head. “I will never understand your people, Blake… But there is another mystery. How did the Imperials find us so quickly?”
I thought about Lael’s wand, but I didn’t see any reason to bring that up. “I guess we’ll never know. Perhaps it was a deep probe that happened to be drifting out here.”
“Must be something like that. Of all the bad breaks... Well, we can ready ourselves for battle. In your case, you should probably return to your ship and phase out. They’ll find you anyway, but you should be able to appear before my ship is destroyed and fire one hard salvo into their hulls. With luck, you might take an enemy vessel with you.”
I didn’t find her words encouraging at all.
“What about surrender?” I asked.
“You would opt for torment and ignominy? I thought you were a warrior, Blake. Would you not prefer to die on your own feet?”
“Of course... I’ll return to my ship now.”
When we stepped out of the office, there was even more excitement among the bridge crew.
“What’s going on?” I asked Miller.
He pointed to an ensign who rushed up to Ursahn.
“Captain—the Hunter has reappeared! It came out of the dust cloud nearby. It must have been lost in there.”
Ursahn and I looked at each other, eyes wide.
“I’ve got to get back to my ship,” I said, grabbing Miller by the arm and tugging. He ran after me.
“We can’t destroy the Hunter, Blake!” Ursahn shouted after us.
“No,” I shouted back, “but neither can the Imperials!”
=67=
When I was back aboard my ship and in my command chair, we decoupled from Killer and fell back behind her.
Only a few hours had passed since we’d first docked with her, but we’d managed to make some critical repairs. Most of the spare equipment had come from Ursahn’s ship, and for that, I was grateful.
“Status reports, Samson,” I said.
“We’ve patched all the hull breaches. Compartments one and six still won’t hold pressure, but at least they aren’t completely exposed.”
“What about our shields?”
“We moved one of the aft shield-generators forward. Essentially, we’ve got a half-strength shield all around the ship now.”
I thought about that and nodded. “A reasonable move. Good job, Gwen.”
She nodded and smiled faintly. As my exec, she’d been left in charge of such decisions.
“Our engines and armament is in acceptable condition,” Samson concluded. “We can fight, but we can’t take a hard strike.”
“We never could,” I said. “All right, we’ve got to phase out. Ensign Miller?”
“Ready, Captain.”
“Power down the shields. Phase out and give all the rest of the power we have to the main drives. Dalton, take us after Killer the second we’re running dark.”
The ship phased out, slewed around and followed the retreating form of Ursahn’s vessel.
Gwen and Miller exchanged confused glances after these maneuvers were completed.
“Captain?” Gwen asked me. “Why phase out now? We could get a little more speed out of our engines if—”
“I know that, Gwen,” I said. “But a phase-ship in plain sight is far less useful than one that’s hidden.”
We were underway for several minutes before I called out for all engines to stop. Alarmed, the crew obeyed, but they clearly had misgivings.
“What are we doing, Captain?” Dalton asked, voicing what everyone was thinking.
“We’re lying in wait. The Imperials should come out about here. The second you see a rift opening, head directly for it, Dalton.”
He suddenly looked excited. “That’s how we’re going to escape? By passing back through their own rifts?”
I shook my head. “No, that would be elaborate suicide. Jumping from here back into the middle of their home planets wouldn’t be safe. There would be no way out again.”
“What is the plan, Captain?” Gwen asked.
“It’s situational,” I admitted. “I’m playing a hunch. The Imperials will probably come out here where we were initially pinpointed.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“If Killer sat here, they would destroy her. She has to run. But, if we damage an Imperial ship the moment they arrive, then phase out again before they can destroy us—well, what would you do if you were an enemy commander?”
Gwen thought about it. “First, I’d throw some kind of fit,” she said. “Then I’d search every micron of space in this region until I found that damned phase-ship.”
“Exactly,” I said, “and in the meantime, our friend the Hunter will be steaming to this exact spot from the dust cloud.”
“It seems overly tricky, Captain,” Miller said. “With all due respect.”
“Objections noted. Chang, is that a rift I see forming off the starboard bow?”
“It is indeed, Captain.”
“Dalton, get us there in a hurry.”
The helmsman swung the ship around and we slid silently toward the breach point. Everyone was tense. Our ship was damaged, and we were about to take offensive action. We didn’t even know what kind of vessel we’d be facing.
When the enemy appeared, our fears weren’t allayed.
“It’s—that’s a battleship, Captain Blake!” Chang said. For once, he had a hint of real emotion in his voice. He sounded amazed.
“Perfect. We’re in range. Miller, phase us in. Mia, take the shot as soon as you’re able.”
She gave me a strange look, but she didn’t argue. Thirty seconds later, our big gun appeared in normal space and fired a gout of radiation.
The blazing strike landed amidships. The enemy shields weren’t fully aligned after having just exited the rift. We were treated to the sight of the enemy’s half-strength shield flickering out, and a gouge appearing in her flank armor. It was far from fatal, but they’d probably sustained casualties and some minor systems damage.
“Phase out again, Ensign Miller!” I ordered.
“I’m still recharging the system…”
I glanced over at him. “How long?”
“The phasing unit is recharging slowly,” he said. “There might have been unexpected damage to the power couplings, or the capacitance coils.”
I looked at Samson, who winced. Damage control was his department. He’d given me such a solid report I’d believed in him. But I had to remind myself that Hammerhead was an experimental ship. No one was an expert yet in repairing her.
“Dalton, take evasive action.”
We all watched in relative quiet as the battleship swung about and trained her big guns on us. Her shields were back up to full strength already. There was nothing wrong with her power couplings, that was for sure.
As the enemy powered up her guns, it was impossible not to feel that the wrath of God was about to strike us dead. One direct hit from those guns at this range…
The enemy didn’t wait for every turret to come to life before firing. As soon as they had one bank active, they took the shot.
Dalton was jerking us around in a random pattern for all he was worth. He didn’t use the computer do it, either. He danced his hands over the controls, giving us varied lateral motions that would have made everyone aboard sick if it wasn’t for the anti-grav systems and the inertial dampeners.
Bolts of radiation reached out toward us, made visible by software. There were four finger-like lines drawn between their ship and ours. Any one of them might strike us dead-on and end our lives in an instant.
But they didn’t. They sang all around us, and we danced between them like an insect evading flames.
A cheer went up, but it was short-lived. The battleship had three more primary turrets and they were all aiming, charging up—
“Phasing out!” Miller called.
“Drop shields,” I called out. “Dalton, get us—”
I didn’t need to give the order. We were diving in what felt like a downward trajectory, moving with violence away from the enemy. A dozen more bolts passed through space behind us, striking nothing.
We’d evaded death once again, but we weren’t out of the woods yet.
“More rifts are opening,” Chang said. “All around us.”
“They sent through their largest vessel first,” Gwen said. “Almost as if they expected an ambush.”
“Maybe Lael warned them we had a phase-ship in the mix,” I suggested.
She looked at me sharply. “Lael did this? We should eject her into space immediately.”
“We aren’t Imperials, XO,” I said. “We’re civilized, remember?”
She looked away, grinding her teeth. I couldn’t blame her.
We spent the next half hour evading ships. They came out, joined in tight formation, but then spread out to patrol when they realized we weren’t going to hit them again.
“They’ll find us eventually,” Dalton said. “There have been at least six close calls.”
“Chang?” I called out. “Where is our Hunter friend?”
“It’s almost here, Captain. The Imperials don’t seem to be concerned. I would assume they’re equipped with friend-or-foe identifiers and believe themselves to be safe.”
“Right,” I said, nodding thoughtfully. “Miller, turn on our friend-or-foe system—just for a few seconds.”
Miller did as I asked, but he looked at me seriously. “Captain, the Imperials might be able to detect the signal.”
“I think they can. Switch it off again.”
He did, and we waited nervously. Gravimetric sensors soon began to sound warnings. The Imperial ships were nosing closer to us again.
“Have you got a reading on that Hunter?” I asked Chang again.
“Yes… she’s changed course. She’s heading to this spot.”
“Dalton, change heading. Get us as far from here as you can.”
“Straight lines are dangerous, Captain.”
“Do it.”
We ran. It was risky, as we laid down no random patterns. If the enemy was tracking us somehow, they’d easily be able to predict our likely position and unload a volley of fire to catch us. It would still take some luck, but—
“Captain!” Chang cried out. “I’m reading gravity pulses all around us.”
“Those are Imperial ships. Dalton, read them like a map and evade.”
They’d finally turned on their friend-or-foe systems, assuming they would protect them from the approaching Hunter. Apparently, it was getting too close for comfort.
The fireworks began soon after that—but they weren’t directed toward us.
“The battleship we engaged earlier…” Chang said. “It’s hard to tell when we’re phased out, but I’m getting two readings from her hull now. I think she’s broken up.”
We all dared to grin. The Hunter was in their midst, striking at them with abandon.
My trap had finally been sprung.
=68=
The battle turned into a slaughter. The Imperial ships were either outmatched, or unprepared to fight with a Hunter.
I’d understood from Lael they had ways of defeating such enemies, but perhaps she’d been boasting. Or, maybe it took a much larger specialized force.
Whatever the case, it wasn’t long before the enemy forgot about searching for my phase-ship and began to run from the Hunter. After ten minutes, nothing but a debris field was left behind us. A few floating life-pods could be detected, sending out emergency signals. The Imperials that had survived had fled.
The Hunter ignored the survivors. It turned, inexorably, toward the planets that were at the center of the star system. Perhaps it tried to form a rift, but couldn’t due to the warp dissipater. The Imperial vessels that had survived its onslaught could travel using rifts, and they took the opportunity to retreat to their home planets.
“What’s it going to do?” Dalton asked.
“Just watch,” Samson said. “I have a hunch.”
We did watch it. Drifting, it seemed lost in thought. It reminded me of a slow-minded cleaning robot from home, a machine faced with a surprise. It was weighing its options, testing cases over and over and timing out.
“Maybe it’s looking for nearby signals,” Miller said. “This is fascinating.”
“That’s probably it,” Chang added. “It senses more enemies—but they’ve all escaped. A computer program would be trying to work out the shortest path to the fleeing enemy.”
“Maybe it’s trying to make a rift over and over again, but failing,” Samson suggested.
In the end, the Hunter fired up its massive engines again and spun around. It headed toward the nearest of the rifts left behind by the Imperial ships.
“That’s it, you big prick,” Dalton said in a breathy voice. “I love it. Rain down destruction on their worlds! Make them hurt the way we do when they use our planets for target practice!”
I found it difficult to feel his bloodlust, but I understood it. The Imperials had heartlessly killed so many Kher. There were lifeless planets by the hundreds in their wake.
The massive ship vanished into a rift, riding the stellar flux to its endpoint. We could no longer follow the action, as the central planets were many light-hours away and beyond the capacity of our sensors to view.
But whatever was happening, it was no longer our problem. The Imperials were no doubt lighting up every local world with signals meant to repel the big ship—all the while unknowingly summoning it to destroy them.
Seeing the pods out there floating in space around us, I got an idea. I headed toward the main passage and went below.
Gwen caught up with me on the mid-deck.
“You can’t do it, Leo,” she said.
“What?”
“You can’t save all those Imperials floating around out there. We haven’t got the room aboard—hell, we don’t have enough oxygen production to let them even breathe here. One of them might be carrying equipment to send out signals the way Captain Lael did—.”
I put up a hand. “That’s not my intention,” I told her.
“I saw you looking out there at their life pods. They didn’t give you any ideas?”
“They did, actually. Now, return to the bridge and take command. That’s an order.”
She reluctantly did as I’d asked, shaking her head.
For my own part, I was almost insulted. Did I look like such a softie? Was I a do-gooder who trusted any and all enemies I ran into?
Perhaps I gave that impression, but my intentions were very different today.
Reaching the lowest deck, I found Lael’s cell. As they’d been ordered to do, her jailors were keeping their distance.
“Open it,” I told my new chief.
He moved quickly to obey. He didn’t even ask me why.
Lael looked at me with a strange expression when the door opened.
“I heard the battle,” she said. “What happened?”
“Your fleet was destroyed. Most of it, anyway.”
She stared in shock. “I don’t believe it.”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe. Your stay here aboard Hammerhead is at an end.”
Lael got up, and although she struggled we dragged her out of her cell.
“To the airlock, Captain?” asked the new chief. His face was pale, but he looked determined. I knew he would kill her if I asked him to right now, and I found that disturbing.
“No,” I said. “To the pods.”
She struggled, but she was no match. We dragged her to the life pods, pushed her into one, and tossed her wand in after her.
Lael picked up the wand, looking at it wonderingly. “You’re releasing me? Is this some kind of exchange? Have you made a deal with my people?”
“Not exactly,” I said, “but if you’re lucky, you might survive the experience.”
We slammed the hatch shut and fired the pod out into space. The walls rumbled briefly with the gush of escaping gasses.
The last I saw of Captain Lael was an angry, desperate face in the triangular window of her spinning pod. Then she was gone into the endless night of deep space.
“There’s only enough air, water and food in these pods for two weeks,” the chief said.
“Like I said,” I told him, “she has to be lucky.”
When I returned to the bridge, my crew gave me surreptitious glances. Gwen seemed particularly disturbed.
“We’re chasing Killer,” she said. “I took the liberty of phasing back in and contacting Ursahn. She’ll coast until we catch up. We should dock in about four hours.”
“Is Killer able to form a rift yet?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “We have to be farther from the central sun. It might take weeks to reach a distance that allows us to escape the effect.”
I nodded.
She stood near my chair and spoke in a quiet voice. “Captain? Did you kill Lael?”
“No,” I said. “You should know that. Why would I waste a pod if that were my intention?”
She shrugged. “Well… some thought that it would give you the plausible deniability you’ve mentioned in the past.”
Frowning, I turned to face her. “Really? That’s what you think? That I shot her in the head and pushed her body into a pod to cover my own ass?”
She didn’t meet my eyes. “I wouldn’t say she didn’t deserve it.”
“Hmm…” I said. “Sounds like Dalton’s idea of a good time, not mine. But don’t worry, I kicked her off my ship because she’s a bad influence. She nearly got us all killed, and she messed with the minds of two good men. I can’t afford that—not out here. Space is too unforgiving, especially in this neck of the woods.”
“Are you sure she didn’t corrupt three good men?” she asked.
She walked away before I could think of a reply.
* * *
About twenty hours later, we were docked with Killer and making good speed away from the Imperial star system.
I was asleep with Mia’s head on my chest when an insistent chiming began. She reached out a hand and slapped the chime off—but it came back on again, almost immediately.
“What is it?” I asked in a froggy voice after slapping my own hand against the wall and activating it.
“Captain—we have a situation.”
“On my way.”
Climbing out of bed I began dragging on my clothes.
“They can’t do that,” Mia said. “They can’t order you around. You’re the captain.”
“Yes, I’m the captain,” I agreed. “But that means I have responsibilities.”
“You’ve only been with me for three hours. I’m tired and unsatisfied.”
I chuckled and pulled on my pants. “Do you want me to tell Gwen to run the ship through this emergency? So you can go back to sleeping on me?”
She thought about it. “That would nice—but no. I hate Gwen. She wants you all the time—even when she doesn’t want you.”
“Okay then,” I said, ramming my feet into grav-boots. “I’m going to the bridge. I’ll call you if there’s something out there that needs shooting.”
“I hope you do.”
I left Mia asleep a few minutes later and headed to the bridge. I yawned uncontrollably until I saw what was on the screens.
“Where…?” I asked. “Where did the Imperial worlds go?”
“Two of their planets have been attacked by the Hunter,” Miller said. “One is damaged, and one appears to have been destroyed. Killer is feeding us the long-range sensor data.”
My sleepiness left me in an instant. “Contact Ursahn.”
“Channel open.”
Using my sym, I made the conversation a private one.
For her part, Ursahn was all smiles. She greeted me with a joy in her eyes I couldn’t recall ever having seen before.
“Captain Blake,” she said, “you are a miracle-worker!”
“The Hunter is eating their planets, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it would seem so. At last, the Nomads are getting the revenge they’ve sought for countless years. Now, what can I do for you?”
There was no point in trying to explain my mood to her. She was a predator, an eater of flesh. Dead enemies weren’t something to mourn in her version of morality. Not even a planet full of them.
“I think we should try creating a rift now,” I suggested.
“Ah—you think their dissipater may have been on one of those worlds? I’ll try it!” A low chuckle escaped her deep chest. “Crafty primates,” she muttered to herself and shook her head. The signal ended.
Less than ten minutes later, a rift opened in front of our two ships. I didn’t know where it led, and I didn’t much care.
We plunged into it and left Imperial space behind us.
=69=
We scattered twice more on the way back to home space, taking nearly a week to reach Epsilon Aurigae. We returned to the battle station where we’d been given our impossible assignment to confront Fex.
We didn’t go alone, however. Ursahn had taken the precaution of visiting a world deep in Rebel territory that contained many government officials. Before we headed to the battle station, we picked up one of these officials—a friendly one.
This official was known to me. He was none other than Dr. Shug—now elevated to the title of Secretary Shug.
“Mr. Secretary,” Ursahn said, dropping to all fours briefly then standing erect again. I figured it was something like a bow for her people, so I dipped my head as well.
Shug seemed very pleased. He was a sneaky little primate. A hairball about five feet tall and as full of tricks as any I’d yet to meet. He was a scientist by trade, but he’d managed to take enough status points from Admiral Fex to gain the job he’d wanted so badly.
The prospect of visiting Fex to rub his nose in this fact seemed to give him nothing but pleasure.
“Captains Blake and Ursahn,” Shug said. “I hear congratulations are in order. You’ve managed to defeat a Hunter. That’s quite an accomplishment. I’d love to hear how you did it.”
We were all aboard Killer on the command deck. Settling to his haunches, Shug perched on one of the stump-like seats in Ursahn’s office. For him, it was like sitting on a table rather than a chair.
Ursahn and I exchanged glances.
“Uh…” I said. “You haven’t been briefed on those details?” I asked.
“No. Ursahn insisted that you be allowed to explain your methods in person.” Shug turned to me expectantly.
I wasn’t sure what to say. The truth crossed my mind, of course, but I knew that if Ursahn had wanted to go that route she would have done so herself in order to take full credit.
On the other hand, if she thought Shug would disapprove for some reason, then it made sense that she would keep Shug in the dark until I explained it all.
Both of them looked at me with questioning eyes.
Sensing a trap, I threw up my hands, making both of them flinch. Rapid movement of the limbs was often a prelude to an attack among the Kher.
“I’m sorry, sirs,” I said. “As much as I’d like to take the credit, I have to confess that it all belongs to Ursahn. After all, she was in full command of this mission.”
“Surely, you’re being overly generous,” Ursahn said uneasily.
“No, no,” I said—“I’m not. Mr. Secretary sir, this fine officer was our mastermind at every turn. She got us out of one impossible jam after another. It wouldn’t be right that—”
“Yes, yes,” Shug said impatiently. He gave Ursahn a slight frown. “Tell me then—how did you do it?”
Trapped by her own sense of duty and slower wits, she began to explain. By the end, Shug looked alarmed.
“You… you caused an entire Imperial star system to be consumed?” he demanded before she’d finished.
“That’s right,” I said exuberantly. “Isn’t it amazing? A blow has been struck for the Rebels! One that the Imperials won’t soon forget!”
Shug looked from one of us to the next.
“Are you mad?” he demanded. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re mad-things! Diseased of the mind! The Imperials will never stand for this!”
At last, I began to feel sorry for Ursahn. She had the look of a dog that had just gotten its nose rubbed in something.
“Secretary Shug,” I said, “we had no choice. It was a matter of survival. And besides, we didn’t know exactly how events would go. We were simply trying to get the Hunter away from Rebel space.”
“Insanity…” Shug muttered. “It’s worse than I thought. You haven’t explained this fiasco to anyone else yet, have you?”
“No sir,” Ursahn said unhappily.
“Good... Keep it that way. I can’t afford to lose you two—even if you are mad-things.”
I cleared my throat.
Shug looked at me. “What was that utterance?” he asked. “My translator couldn’t comprehend it.”
“Sorry, Mr. Secretary. What I meant to say is: I have an idea.”
“Well? Out with it, human.”
“It occurs to me that Admiral Fex set us on this mission. Therefore—”
Shug brightened immediately. His mind could move as quickly as his hands—even faster.
“Yes!” he said. “He did order you two to save Ral, didn’t he? All you did was follow his orders… If there’s one man in the sector I don’t need to keep, it’s Admiral Fex.”
“I couldn’t have put it better myself, sir.”
We adjourned as the ship docked at the battle station. We entered the docking tubes and crossed quickly from Killer to the station itself.
I should have seen what was coming, but I didn’t. Fex was ruthless and smart. If anyone could have known how this matter would end, it would have been him.
The moment we left the docking lounge and walked into the broad corridors of the station, I noticed the place was deserted.
Shug and Ursahn walked on obliviously, but I stopped in my tracks and used my sym to summon help. Miller and my two hapless security guards were summoned to follow us.
As I wasn’t keeping up, the initial rush of dark, humping forms struck Ursahn and Shug first. They were Grefs—all of them.
But instead of wearing the uniforms of simple spacers, they were dressed as captains and admirals. It was absurd, as I’d never known of even a single Gref command officer—but that didn’t matter now.
“Gref have rank! Ready for duel,” cheerfully stated one of many Grefs. Long steel clubs like baseball bats were lifted in excited anticipation.
My disruptor was already out and firing into their midst—but of course Fex had disabled such weapons. I cursed myself for not having brought along more muscle. I hadn’t counted on an attack upon a civilian authority like Secretary Shug.
Admirals were technically of similar rank, but at such levels direct violent conflict was rare. Now and then people fought a duel, just as nobility had in countless human societies, but this—it was unprecedented.
My body-cam was on, and I broadcast it to my crew and anyone else who cared to view it. My hope was others would see this fight as a sham and come to aid us. The hope was an unlikely one, but we could use some luck to get out of this.
For all his small size and light build, Shug was no slouch in combat. He was fast, and after he discarded his disruptor he ducked a club, sidestepping and tripping the howling Gref who charged him. Before the gangly attacker hit the deck, Shug plucked his club free from his grasp.
Ursahn was both more and less fortunate. She stepped forward to defend Shug, but she wasn’t as quick-footed as he was. She made up for this, however, in natural ferocity.
Two clubs flashed and landed on her ribs. She bellowed and smashed out with her fists. One of the Grefs went down, bounced up, and was smashed down again. He didn’t get up a second time.
The first one, however, went to work on Ursahn’s thick skull. I could hear the crunch of bone. Ursahn staggered, went down to her knees, and was at last driven to the deck.
This took long enough for me to close with her assailant and tackle him. That was a mistake. I felt his strength as his long, flailing limbs wrapped around me. He squeezed, and my breath was driven from my lungs.
My hands sought tender spots. Finding them I took advantage, and the Gref released me, screeching. We both snatched up clubs and began a circling duel, lashing out to deliver hard blows.
Among the Kher, clubs like these were honor weapons. They were rather like the fencing swords of my own people from centuries past. One of the reasons they were used was their universal appeal and ease of operation. Another was the simple fact that they were unlikely to cause either party to bleed out and die.
Fighting among the Kher for rank wasn’t meant to be deadly. Now and then an unlucky combatant did succumb before medical aid could arrive—but that was rare. The point was to beat down your opponent with the simplest of weapons, demonstrating your superior skills.
Over the last few years, I’d become good with these clubs. They were about the same size as baseball bats, but they were hollow and less deadly. Even so, it wasn’t fun to get clocked by one in the hands of a Gref.
My opponent squared off with me and we traded practiced aggression. It was hard to block with these weapons, so I’d perfected the glancing blow. I caught his first attack, then slid my own weapon down to bang into his hairy knuckles.
He hissed and spat in pain, but he didn’t drop his weapon. We parted and sent a few pokes and wide swings at each other, unwilling to close again.
Finally I went in low, landing one on his ankle. I could hear my club crushing small bones. In the meantime, his club cracked me on the left shoulder. My arm went numb. We parted again, me holding my club one-handed, him dragging a foot behind him in a circle.
Using the only advantage I had, I rushed to get to his side. He had a hard time turning—and that was it. I landed a clean shot on the back of his skull. Blood flew from his lips, such was the force of it.
He slid to the deck, unconscious.
Shug clapped slowly as I turned with my weapon upraised. All the Grefs were down, as was Ursahn.
“Well played,” Shug said. “I like your technique. It shows cunning, rather than brute strength.”
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” I panted.
Shug toed an unconscious foe. Shug himself seemed unharmed, which surprised me. He was old, and small, but was no slouch when it came to combat. I guess he wouldn’t have gotten so far in rank if this weren’t the case.
“Five on three…” Shug said. “But their ranks…? Captains and admirals? What are the odds?”
“Extremely low, sir,” I said, “considering they’re all Grefs.”
Shug nodded. “I sense we have a cunning adversary here on this station. Can you rouse Ursahn?”
“No,” I said, after giving it a try.
“A pity.”
About then, a team from my ship arrived and began applying first aid. Shug looked on with growing approval.
“You brought your team in here quickly and efficiently, but only after the duel was complete. Honorable and effective. It’s good to see such a combination. It’s rarer than you might think.”
“Uh… right, sir. Thank you.”
In truth, I’d hoped my people would have gotten here to aid me in battle, but there was no point in enlightening Shug on this.
“Do you think this attack was legitimate?” I asked him as we strode together down the long, curving passages toward Fex’s office.”
“What? Oh, well, I’m not sure. It looks suspicious, but we can’t assume that it was illegal. That would leave us open to losing status if we were wrong.”
I rolled my eyes when he wasn’t looking. All the Rebel Kher were very concerned with status points in their strange society. Personal combat was only one more part of the game of life to them. They strove for advantage every waking moment, and they lived in a strict hierarchy that was rigid when it had to be—such as during combat with the Imperials—but highly flexible when the stakes were low and it was deemed appropriate to jockey for rank.
“Tell me, Secretary Shug,” I said. “Do you think the Kher system of rank-climbing and conflict is efficient? It seems wasteful and distracting to me.”
He frowned at me. “There you go again. The moment my respect for you grows to new heights, you ask a confounding question.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“The answer is as plain as these clubs in our paws!” he told me, shaking his weapon. It was stained with dark hair, and a single red line of blood ran from the tip all the way down to his gnarled fingers.
“How do you mean, sir?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We Kher are impossible to unite. We’re barely a single people. Not even all species can cross-breed, although most can. With such a variance among us, each kind having risen to dominate on their home worlds, how can you expect harmonious cooperation on a grand scale?”
“Well… if we were singular of purpose, such as defeating the Imperials once and for all, we might unite.”
He looked at me, aghast. “Words of treason. Poison drips from your tongue, serpent!”
“Come now, sir,” I argued. “You’re a man of learning. Surely you must have had philosophical thoughts about a different path.”
Shug lowered his voice. “You’d best stop now. It will do you no good. I won’t fall for your trap.”
“My trap?”
He reached out, ripped the body-cam from my tunic and waved it in my face.
“I know you’re transmitting this to some recording system, hoping to catch me in a compromising moment. I wasn’t born yesterday, human. Nice try, but it didn’t work.”
I would have tried to convince him I wasn’t engaged in any such scheme, but it was too late. We had arrived at Admiral Fex’s office.
=70=
Unsurprisingly, Admiral Fex’s door was locked.
Secretary Shug studied it in irritation. “Is that precious metal?” he asked. “No wonder the budget for this station was way out of line!”
I cleared my throat. “The interior is quite sumptuous as well.”
“No doubt it is…”
He hammered on the portal, but no one inside responded. Instead the AI console on the flat carven gold surface of the door flickered into life, flashing up a message.
I’d grown comfortable enough with Kher script to read it: Off-Shift.
The Rebel Kher ran on a system of time that was approximately six hours on, six hours off. With so many different peoples from different worlds involved, they’d found this to be a good rule to operate by. On some planets, six hours was a full day. On others, it was only a short fraction time, but in any case, almost everyone could function for six hours before needing downtime.
“Bullshit,” Shug said, or something that my translator interpreted that way.
He tapped into the device and attempted to override it. The door only made tweeting sounds at him in response.
“Most irregular,” he said. “He’s disabled the official override. That’s a violation in itself.”
“Fex is anything but cooperative with authorities, Mr. Secretary.”
“I’m not going to stand for it.”
Shug tapped into the PA system, and his voice boomed from the ceiling. “The door to Admiral Fex’s office is malfunctioning. The first individual who opens it for me will gain ten full status points. Secretary Shug is making this offer, and it is official.”
We stood there for about twenty more seconds before the door popped open. A wedge-shaped head looked out.
“The door is open,” said the Terrapinian. “I want my points now.”
Shug frowned at him. “Were you in there the entire time, holding the door closed?”
“That seems unimportant,” the Terrapinian said.
Shug growled, awarded him the points, then ordered him to stand aside. We entered the office, warily.
I had to admit, I had my club in my hand. My fingers were white bands around the handle. But nothing seemed wrong.
“Where is he?” Shug demanded, looking around the empty office.
The Terrapinian lingered at the doorway. “Might the answer be worth more points?”
“No,” Shug said. “But it will prevent you from being docked one point right now.”
“You are as unpleasant a person as Admiral Fex indicated,” the turtle-like creature said. “The admiral has left the station. He’s aboard Killer at the moment, preparing to exit the star system.”
We were both left with sagging jaws.
“The gall of that ape!” Shug said. “Come along, back to your ship, Blake.”
I followed Shug again. We were trotting now. Along the way, I ordered all my critical crewmen to return to Hammerhead immediately.
When we reached my ship, Shug seemed faintly disgusted. “So… this is what a phase-ship looks like inside. It’s unsavory, cramped, and reeks of dishonorable conduct.”
“Well sir,” I said, “right now, Fex is outdoing us in the dishonor department. What are your orders?”
“Can you disable his ship?”
My bridge crew looked stunned at the suggestion.
“I won’t destroy Killer,” I said. “I have too many friends aboard that ship.”
“I will!” Mia said, her eyes glowing. She had the main gun armed and unlimbered.
As we watched, Killer began to make way. It swung around and headed away from the station. I could only imagine the scene aboard. Her bridge crew wasn’t very imaginative, and apparently Fex had managed to convince them he was commandeering their ship for some important purpose.
“Communicate with the crew first,” Shug said. “Tell them to stand down on my authority.”
“I’ve been trying to, sir,” Gwen said. “They aren’t listening. Fex must have ordered them to shut down their com array.”
“Very well,” Shug said. “On my authority, Captain Blake, you are to pursue that carrier and stop her.”
Feeling a trickle of sweat, I nodded to Dalton. We left the dock, aimed our prow into open space, and began the pursuit.
We didn’t have much time—that I knew. Killer was faster than my phase-ship, and every moment we traveled something unexpected might happen.
Fex might open a rift, for instance, escaping the system entirely. Or he might order the fighter crews to scramble and attack my ship.
I couldn’t afford either possibility, so I ordered Mia to fire her weapon.
She was so happy—it was almost unpleasant to watch.
“Target the engines only,” I said. “They don’t have their shielding up to full strength yet. Fire now.”
She aimed, checked the firing solution, and then released a gush of radiation. It pursued and caught Killer instantly. The bigger ship’s shields flared white, then orange, then died completely.
Mia kept her hands on the triggers, melting through the armor and into the upper starboard engine exhaust. The results were dramatic.
A brief cascade of flame blossomed like a white flower, then died almost instantly. We’d destroyed one of Killer’s engines.
At last, the com system came to life.
“What are you doing, Blake?” Fex’s voice shouted in my head. “I demand that you cease fire, or you will be destroyed!”
“This is Secretary Shug,” the Secretary interrupted. I was surprised he could listen into a private channel and intervene. “You will stand down, Fex. Or you will be destroyed.”
“Secretary Shug?” Fex asked, sounding confused. “Sir, are you with Blake? I had no idea.”
I made a rude blatting sound with my lips. Shug didn’t ask me what I meant by it—perhaps the meaning was clear and universal.
“The game is up, Fex,” Shug said. “Stand down. Crew of Killer, stand down.”
The com channel closed, but the ship hung ahead of us, lifeless. After a few minutes, one of Ursahn’s people transmitted to us in the open.
“Mr. Secretary,” she said. “We had no idea it was you who was pursuing us. Admiral Fex said—”
“Admiral Fex is to be arrested, gagged, and thrown into the brig!” Shug ordered.
“Yes, Mr. Secretary…”
It took a few more hours to sort things out, but we managed it. Fex was arrested, but somehow he escaped being gagged.
We encircled him on Killer’s flight deck with our weapons drawn. He was on his knees with his arms bound behind him. His long fingers flexed uselessly in the air. Even his dexterous toe digits had been bagged in some kind of smart cloth slipper-sacks.
The Grefs appeared to be the most unhappy members of the mob that surrounded him. They’d taken casualties in the engineering section due to Hammerhead’s strike on the engines.
“This is highly irregular!” Fex complained. “We’ve got to pull together as a force if we’re to face the Imperials. This idiot—” here, he indicated me with a dip of his head, “Blake will be the death of us all! He’s inflamed the Imperials. Can you imagine the hubris it takes to release a Hunter in Imperial territory? They’ll never stand for having their worlds destroyed!”
“You’re correct,” Shug said, standing over him. “The Imperials will be angry, and the mission was a disaster.”
“Then why am I bound on the floor?” Fex demanded.
Shug splayed his hands. “Isn’t it obvious? You ordered Blake and Ursahn to save Ral. They did so the only way they could manage it.”
“I didn’t mean they should ignite a greater conflict!”
“Perhaps not, but you sent them on the mission alone, and they succeeded. That means, by Rebel Law, you are responsible for their actions.”
Fex’s eyes rolled around the group. “This is absurd. I’m an admiral, and my record is unblemished. It’s one thing to subtract points, Mr. Secretary, but—”
“An excellent suggestion,” Shug said. “It’s time to adjust your score. The price for this gross error will be two thousand status points.”
Fex began sputtering in shock.
“Just a moment…” Shug said, working with a tablet. “Yes, there. It’s done.”
We all watched as the insignia on Fex’s shoulders began to crawl into a new formation. I was curious about the outcome. At each rank going upward, the cost was higher. The grand total of all my points put together was nowhere near a thousand units. But then, I wasn’t an admiral.
The insignia reformed into a triangle—a silver one. Fex had become a junior lieutenant.
“This is insane!” Fex shouted. “You can’t dock me so many points!”
“I can, and I’ve just done so.”
“I won’t accept this. I’ll protest. I’ll file a grievance with every committee in the sector!”
Shug looked unimpressed.
“That is your right, Lieutenant,” he said. “In the meantime, you can’t command this station with such a low rank. We’ll have to find a new position for you...”
One of the Grefs raised a lumpy arm. “Gref make a suggestion.”
“Very well.”
“Gref need new officer in engineering,” he said.
Shug made a show of considering the idea. Finally, he nodded.
“That will do nicely. I’ll remand him into your custody. He’s to be incarcerated until he proves he’s worthy to serve the Rebel Fleet again.”
Fex looked at everyone, his mouth agape. It seemed he couldn’t believe his misfortune.
“But…” he said. “A compartment full of Grefs? I won’t last a week!”
“Nonsense,” Shug said. “They’re easily beaten with club or fist. It’s all a matter of technique. My advice to you is to tone your body and challenge every Gref officer you meet. Inside a month’s time, you might well be their master.”
These words only made the Gref officer’s face darken. Shug walked away, and I followed him.
“Sir?” I asked. “Did you give him to the Grefs on purpose?”
He shrugged. “They needed an officer. I needed to get rid of Fex. This seems like an equitable solution for all, doesn’t it?”
I nodded thoughtfully, hoping I never pissed off Shug as much as Fex had today.
“Why are there so many Grefs around this station anyway?” I asked him.
“This region of space is full of them,” he said. “They build weak ships, but they breed fast and work hard.”
“I see…” I said, craning my neck around to see what was happening to Fex. It didn’t look pretty. He was hauled to his feet and dragged away by a whooping team of Grefs.
That was the last I saw of the admiral. It occurred to me later that threatening Secretary Shug with a grievance committee had been a poor choice on Fex’s part.
“Oh…” Shug said, stopping and turning to face me. “You’re in line to receive a status award. You’ve earned quite a few points by any measure.”
Surprised, I looked at my epaulets. I truly had no idea what would happen, but they were changing. After a few seconds, they displayed not diamonds, but pentagons. I was a full-fledged captain in the Rebel Fleet now.
“Congratulations,” Shug said.
“Thank you, sir!”
=71=
Once the Hunter had left our local space, the Rebel Fleet hung around for a time, but eventually began to disband again.
The Rebel Fleet was like armies of old back on Earth. There was only a small core of professionals. The majority of the ships and troops were only called up for the common defense when a threat appeared.
After several months, Hammerhead was allowed to return to Earth. Ursahn dropped us off in orbit over my home world, and I felt joy in my heart to see familiar oceans and streaks of white cloud cover again.
This time around, Mia wasn’t returned to her home planet. I think if she’d requested such a thing, it could have been arranged. But as she was a member of Hammerhead’s crew and the only one of her kind aboard, no one really wanted to bother with the extra trip.
We drifted above Earth in orbit until a shuttle came up to greet us. The welcome we got as we reached the ground was amazing. We were truly heroes on our planet this time around.
The best thing about the homecoming was the fact I was bringing Mia with me. I’d missed her out in space.
Robin was unhappy about that, but she’d quickly moved on to other pursuits. Gwen seemed miffed, but she was resigned to the fact we weren’t meant to be a couple.
“I’m happy for you,” she said stiffly.
“Liar.”
“No, really! You shouldn’t get any ideas. I’m officially no longer interested in you, Captain Blake.”
I nodded, accepting her words.
“Gwen, as my XO, you’ll have to stay aboard while I report to Space Command.”
She shook my hand, and I turned to lead most of the crew back to Earth.
Hammerhead herself never did land back on Earth. She wasn’t built to enter thick atmospheres unless it was an emergency situation. We were shuttled down instead, and I was on the first ship with Miller and most of the rest of my bridge people.
At NORAD I was congratulated by Lieutenant Commander Jones, General Vega and a dozen others. One face was missing however, and I asked about him at a dinner held in Boulder in my crew’s honor.
“Whatever happened to Godwin?” I asked General Vega.
“Who?” he asked me. “I don’t recall anyone by that name.”
It was a strange answer, so I turned to Jones, who sat at my other side.
“Jones, do you recall someone named ‘Godwin’ ?”
He squinted for a time, and I thought I saw a spark there for a moment—but then it faded.
“No,” he said. “I can’t say that I do. Was he from Space Command, or—?”
“Come to think of it, I’m not sure,” I said managing to chuckle.
Internally, I was roiling with alarm. How could they both have forgotten about Godwin? I decided to make discreet inquiries, starting with Dr. Abrams.
Unlike the others, Abrams definitely recalled Godwin. “An agent of some kind,” he said. “We’d always understood he was working for the Rebels. But I’ve noticed since we returned that he’s vanished from this base—and from the minds of everyone here.”
“There has to be some physical evidence, or at least some kind of security record.”
“I’ll check,” Abrams said.
Mia had discovered the joys of wine-drinking and was wilder than usual that night. As a result, it was almost eleven the next day before I caught up with Abrams.
“What about Godwin, Doc?” I asked him. “What did you find out?”
He gave me an oddly blank look. “Who? Is that a person’s name?”
“Yes, I…” I stared at him, and I could see he really didn’t know what I was talking about. I smiled quickly. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Forget it. Let’s look at the mission vid files instead.”
We paged through countless documents. All the while, I was looking for something other than what I’d stated to be my goal: evidence of Godwin.
I found it at last when I scrolled down to the very first day we’d lifted off in Hammerhead, headed for the stars.
“Who’s this man here?” I asked Abrams. “The beefy guy talking to Jones as we left Earth?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. There were many dignitaries here that day.”
“Right…” I said. “It’s no big deal.”
Abrams looked at me strangely for a moment, then went back to scrolling through the files methodically. There were several images of Godwin on file, but no identifying materials. No supporting documents—nothing. The guard stations didn’t even have a record of him signing in at the base entrance.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I forced myself to lie down, however, and I assured myself everything would be all right.
I wasn’t so overconfident that I hadn’t set a section of the wall in my quarters from opaque to transparent before retiring.
It was some time before dawn when a form appeared in the corridor outside. The door jiggled and unlocked itself.
I was awake, and I heard a slight hiss. Someone was releasing gas into my sleeping chamber—but I didn’t stir.
A few minutes later, I felt a presence creeping into my room and standing over me. My hand lashed out and struck Godwin a low blow. It was direct and purposeful—oddly, it didn’t incapacitate him. He grunted unhappily, but it was nothing like the usual howl and hiss of a man who’s been punched in the groin.
Still, he was surprised. That was enough for me to get up and tackle him. He had some kind of device in his hands—something that looked like a circlet of silver metal.
Pinning his hand I slammed it on the floor until he released the object. Then I slammed his head into the rock wall opposite my bed until he relaxed.
I stood up, panting, and I pulled the filtering plugs from my nose. The gas Godwin had released was still lingering, creating a slightly peppery smell that hung in the air.
Switching on the lights, I began rifling through his pockets.
“Why are you waking me up at this hour?” I demanded. “What the hell is so important about erasing yourself from all our records?”
“I could have killed you,” Godwin said.
His words were slightly slurred, but he was conscious. Surprised, I squatted in front of him.
“Why didn’t you, then?” I asked him.
He grinned, his teeth rimed in blood. “Because you didn’t deserve that. You did what we couldn’t. You struck a great blow for the cause. Even better, you made it look like it was your idea.”
I blinked at him without comprehension.
“Beyond assessing the correct levies from the appropriate Kher,” he said, “I had a small additional mission.”
“You’re crazy, aren’t you?” I asked.
This seemed to strike him as funny. “Certifiable.”
“Tell me, how did you get everyone to forget about you?”
Godwin reached down to pick up the silver crescent of metal he’d dropped. I pinned his wrist to the floor.
“You really should let me do it,” he said. “It will be better for you in the end. Better for everyone.”
I shook my head.
“All right then,” he said. “Can you help me to my feet? I’ll show you something that will explain all this.”
That offer intrigued me, but I knew I couldn’t trust him. I kept his circlet and walked behind him with a disruptor planted in his back.
He led me out of my quarters and down into the lower vaults—then lower still. We walked down to the deepest chambers, those below the cavern where Dr. Abrams had built his phase-ship.
There, we came to the transmat chamber. There were guards there, and they looked at us warily. Godwin gave them a calming wave of the hand. They relaxed, and they stood aside.
I followed him into the transmat chamber, my eyes searching the place. I’d never been allowed down here before.
“Is this how you get in and out of NORAD?” I asked him.
“Of course. How else?”
After staring at him for a second, I shook my head in confusion.
He laughed. “Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were—but I still can’t kill you. Even idiots are useful.”
Saying this, Godwin stepped toward the transmat doors. It looked like a cylinder, about ten feet tall, with a set of doors that slid open.
I shot him before he entered the chamber. He stiffened in pain, but he didn’t stop. I shot him again, making smoke curl up from his back.
He kept moving forward. Whatever Godwin was, he was a tough bird.
Then, the chamber slid shut behind him. Inside I could see him in there, like a man in a tube-shaped phone booth.
I fired one last time, but the disruptor didn’t even scar the surface of the transmat.
Then, he vanished. There were no flashing lights, or zapping sounds. The only noticeable noise was a tiny clap made by the air inside the chamber. It had been sucked into the space where he’d once been standing.
“Hey, you there—how’d you get in here?” a guard demanded, landing a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t remember,” I lied.
They marched me out of the place and to the brig. In the morning, I was questioned by a dozen angry security people. It seemed to me that I’d embarrassed them more than anything else.
“Tell me,” I said, after they’d finished asking me a battery of questions and gotten nothing useful out of me. “Did someone use the transmat last night?”
“There was no usage authorized.”
“Maybe you should check the logs.”
They did so, after glaring at me for a while. When they came back, they were even more pissed off.
Commander Jones accompanied them this time. He sat in a chair to one side as the grilling continued.
“Captain Blake,” the security chief said. “You activated the transmat last night. I’m not sure how you did it—but it had to have been you.”
“Really?” I asked. “Where did I go?”
“We don’t know that.”
“Tell me, Major,” I said. “Does the transmat use power when it receives a transmission, or only when it sends one?”
“That’s classified.”
“Come on,” I said. “Humor me, and I might be able to help you.”
The major frowned fiercely, but at last, he nodded. “Yes, it does. It uses power either way.”
“Right… so, how many times was it activated last night?”
“Only once.”
I smiled at him. After about three seconds, he blinked, and he finally got it.
“You’re saying it couldn’t have been you...” he said. “It’s true that we’ve got video of you entering and exiting your room. You were here before the single surge of power—that means it could only have transmitted someone, not received anyone.”
“Right. The very fact I’m here in front of you proves I didn’t use the transmat.”
“You could have turned it on without entering the chamber,” the major said, pressing.
“No, he couldn’t,” Jones said. “At least, that’s not how it works as far as I know. It’s automated. You walk in, and it sends you. That’s it. Where did the computer say it was focused?” Jones asked the security chief.
The major shook his head. “That’s just it. We don’t have coordinates. The computer was blank. All we know is that there was a surge of power to the chamber.”
“And your men saw nothing?”
“Just Blake, here, walking out of the transmat chamber like he owned it.”
Jones looked at me, and I returned his stare. “You still swear by this ‘Godwin’ story?” he asked.
I nodded.
“A person of unknown origin, who none of us remember? Who isn’t on any video recording, or security checkpoint log?”
“Only the transmat,” I said. “Which was activated last night and sent him to points unknown.”
Jones dangled the silver circlet I’d given him hours earlier. “You say this can blank memories?”
“Maybe,” I said. “He seemed to indicate that it could. Give it to Abrams, maybe he can figure it out.”
Jones looked at the silvery glinting object, then put it in his pocket. He stood up.
“I’ve heard enough. Release the captain.”
“Sir, I—”
“On order of General Vega, base commander. I have the order right here.”
He produced a piece of paper, and I frowned at him.
“You might have given that up earlier,” I commented.
He shrugged. “Sorry Blake, I wasn’t convinced. You do have a rep, you know.”
We walked out of the place, and when I had Jones alone, I asked him a few questions of my own.
“You know who that was, don’t you?” I asked him.
“Godwin?”
“Yeah.”
“I think I know what he was.”
“What then?”
He stopped walking, and he looked at me seriously. “I think he’s one of the Nomads. One of the people from far, far away that even the Imperials fear.”
Then he kept walking, and I fell into step beside him, thinking hard.
The End
From the Author: Thanks Reader! I hope you enjoyed ORION FLEET. If you liked the book and want to read more about this universe, please put up some stars and a review to support the book. Don’t worry if you’re a fan of another series, more of those books are coming soon!
-BVL
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