1.

I had never known death as I knew it that day. The day my perception of reality was irrevocably changed.

We were young, full of courage and stupidity in equal measures. We thought we were heroes, riding that assault shuttle down to Ambrose Station. A dozen Primacy Star Marines – the finest fighting force in the Votus-Eridani Network – charged on combat stims and pumped for war. We were certain in our superiority, our fighting prowess, our advanced technology, and our sheer numbers. We knew that with our brothers at our sides, the alien Ghantri were no match for us.

We were fools.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

“You looking at me like that because you want to kiss me, Corporal?” growled Sergeant Walter “Crazy Eight” Germaine the Eighth.

“No, sarge,” I grinned, “Just admiring how mean you look in your shiny new armour. How long were you polishing it last night?”

“Longer than I polished your mum, last time I was in port.”

The rest of the squad burst out into laughter. During a drop, tension was always high. The sarge and I had this old routine – we would take turns insulting one another in front of the troops. Took their minds off the fact they were about to face their possible deaths.

“At your age, sarge, I’m impressed. I’ve heard my mum is something of a wildcat on the frontier. You sure you’re man enough for a corsair woman?”

He growled at me. “You frontiersmen always think you’re something special. Hides the fact that you’re the equivalent of old Earth goat herders.”

“Space goats, Walt. They’re called space goats now.”

The green light in the shuttle’s hold switched to an angry red and the Sergeant held a finger up to his helmet. It was a strange mannerism he just couldn’t kick – he did it whenever his comms barked out orders.

“Two minutes!” he called, all business once more. Our comedy routine was over.

I ran down the aisle, double-checking everyone’s drop brace. A rectangular brace caged each marine, with ample room to grip and hang onto. Once I was sure everyone was secure, I gave the thumbs up to Walt. I then ran down to my own spot on the barge, clipping the jetpack on my suit into the brace. I pulled the bar down over my head and gripped it tightly.

“Atmo venting! All suits on internal life support!” called Crazy Eight.

I checked a small indicator on my overlay, registering the oxygen mix in my suit.

“Comms check!” he called as the atmosphere in the compartment started to disappear.

One by one, everyone in the squad called out their names on the squad communications channel.

“Standby for deployment in five seconds! Four! Three! Two…”

The floor beneath out feet slid out of sight, exposing the battlefield below. The station outer surface rushed up to greet us as bright flashes of hardlight zipped across space. The occasional explosion lit up the terrain as we dropped the final half kilometre to drop range.

“Drop!”

The inertia of the shuttle propelled us out of the hull like bombs, thrusting us directly towards the station as it braked hard. I focused entirely on my own manoeuvres – the rest of the squad would fend for themselves for the next part. I trusted their training. We had been trained by the galaxy’s best, after all. When the surface was less than fifty metres from me, I ignited my jetpack on full burn for two seconds, reducing it to twenty-five percent for half a second, then five percent for landing. My boots lightly touched the metal surface and my magnetics engaged. All eleven other members of the squad touched down nearby.

“Eleven o’clock!” warned one of the marines, opening up immediately with their energy rifle. I turned to see a wave of Ghantri assaulting our position.

“Casper! Fenris! Garlos! With me!” I called, pointing to a section of debris we could use as cover.

We dashed over to the barrier and braced our rifles on the edge. My fireteam unleashed a torrent of hardlight towards the oncoming enemy, cutting them down one by one.

I saw the sarge grab two others and drag them towards cover while the others scattered. Enemy fire smashed into my shoulder guard, knocking my aim high. I noted with concern that my shield had done nothing to deflect the round.

“Ballistic ammo!” called Crazy Eight, grinning like a madman, “I take it back, Donny! These guys are the goat herders!”

He unslung a grenade and twisted the top off before tossing it towards the enemy line. Free of the artificial gravity, the explosive sailed right over their heads and I was about to laugh at his efforts when it exploded, damaging an antenna array. The array toppled down, pulled in by the station’s gravity field, and crashed into the ranks of the Ghantri.

The sarge didn’t miss a beat.

“Let’s go, Star Marines!” he cried as he leapt over the barricade. We followed, yelling out in defiance of the alien betrayers. The light of a stray beam weapon sweeping through space above us illuminated our charge. At the beginning, it was glorious.

Death came to us all, that day. Even me. Mine just took a lot longer to catch up to me.

2.

I looked out over the battlefield, lost in thought as I remembered the day we landed, during the Push. That was almost three and a half years ago, for me. Chronologically, it was closer to nine years ago – I’ve done my share of Jump Gate travel since then. You could still see the debris field in space above us if one looked hard enough. The wreckages left behind by the fleet dotted the landscape on the habitat ring.

Twelve hours had passed since Osiris Blackburn had fled through the Jump Gate with Artemis, twelve hours of fierce fighting trying to defend the last walls of the university grounds. We had been given a reprieve. The remaining raiders had withdrawn their assault to lick their wounds or sharpen their spears. They’d had enough for the day.

Too exhausted to celebrate, many of our soldiers simply slid to the ground and slept – weapons in hands and backs to the wall. It was a pyrrhic victory, the battle had taken its toll on both sides.

“Calak will be back soon,” said Kekkin, leaning over the parapet.

“They’re probably trying to find their Sectis for more of their drugs.”

“We should have burned the galab.”

“Wouldn’t matter,” I said, “I doubt many of them were as addicted as those berserkers. I haven’t seen any for hours. Long enough for them to have died or at least gone into withdrawal.”

“They still have enough men,” said Renthal, as a local medic sewed stitches into a cut on his cheek, “and we don’t have enough cells to keep firing.”

“I have Rego working with Tac to build charging banks with the reactors,” I said.

“From our M4’s?”

I nodded. I had disconnected mine from my armour many hours ago – since my exo-rig had stopped working. I had ordered the others to surrender theirs shortly after the fighting stopped, but Renthal was right. Our numbers had fallen significantly, while we had not taken enough of the enemy to make them count. They outnumbered us by over twenty to one, but we had the advantage of modern weapons. For every ten of them, nine wielded spears, blades or clubs. Crude weapons forged in makeshift factories. They were primitive, yet fierce.

They had time, however, for every shot fired was one more round depleted from our cells. When they ran out, we would be overrun. The trick was to make sure that we could repel the invaders, without depleting our reserves.

Since Osiris had left, their ‘General’, the people of Ambrose University had looked up to us Protectorate soldiers for leadership. I suspected our recent ally Alexander Cohen had a hand in this, as he was ever the vocal advocate for us. I had our forces split up to lead the defence of various focal points across the wall, with the remainder of our Special Forces equipment bolstering our efforts. I knew it would not be enough. We would not last another day of fighting, and I knew that our enemy could sense it.

“What is naga-zak thinking?” asked Kekkin.

I turned to look down at the wretched refugees below, huddled by their campfires. “We need to get these people to safety. It’s what we came here to do. What I came here to do.”

Renthal shooed away the medic and dabbed at his face. “Easier said than done. Besides, even if we could get them past these walls, where would they go?”

“Human is right,” said Kekkin, “Not too many safe places left on this station.”

“Then we’re just going to have to get them to someplace else.”

I glanced over my shoulder, covering my eyes as the sun’s last rays slid behind the curve of the habitat ring. The orange light of Gossamer still shone on a cylindrical structure that rose many kilometres into the air to join with a large spherical body suspended in the centre of the station’s ring.

“What makes you think that’s safe?” said Renthal, following my gaze towards the space elevator, “The Ghantri supposedly control the docking sphere.”

Kekkin could see my plan starting to form, though. He nodded, peering at the distant corridor into space. “No…this is doable. We take it back from the kak.”

“Why? How is that safe?”

Kekkin grinned. “Human forgets purpose of docking sphere.”

Renthal gave us a quizzical look. “For docking ships.”

I shared the grin with Kekkin, as Renthal suddenly realised what we were thinking.

“Oh! You don’t think there are still ships inside, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t there be?” I asked.

“Well…the Ghantri…hmm. I suppose there could be Ghantri ships there.”

“Which are based on Protectorate ship designs…”

“How much, though?”

Kekkin spoke up. “Human did not see the lair of the Sectis? Those consoles were module bridge stations, copied from Eridani standard designs.”

“Tyrillian, if I’m not mistaken,” I said.

“So?”

Kekkin shook his head in disappointment. “Naga Team can fly them.”

“And we can teach the survivors here to fly them as well,” I chipped in.

“Okay. So it’s plausible. How are we going to get several thousand refugees past that?” he said, jabbing a thumb toward the resting horde of raiders over the wall.

This time, I had nothing. I could see Kekkin looking my way, silently hoping I had a plan. I couldn’t make eye contact.

“I’m thinking,” was all I said.

I left them to rest, heading down below to the University grounds. I needed to think, and I needed to look around and get a feel for the terrain. Maybe there was some secret exit, such as the ones we had used to get into the second line of defences. I had asked Alexander about it hours before, during a brief spell in the fighting. He knew of no such route, but perhaps someone else did.

I approached various camps, asking about the occupants’ knowledge of the grounds. Mostly, all I got were shy, monosyllabic answers and vague apologies. A few pointed me towards others who they thought might know something, but after a few hours, I realised I was getting nowhere.

Tired, and dejected, I decided to give up and get some sleep. I headed into the University tower, stopping briefly at the barricade set up in the lobby to greet the local soldiers there. By now, only the wounded and the infirm operated this rear guard position. Anyone fresh enough to fight unaided was needed at the wall.

After several minutes of hand-shaking and talking up their courage, I made my way towards the back of the lobby and passed by the elevator shafts. As my foot touched the first stair, I paused. With a flash of insight, I rushed over to the nearest flooded elevator shaft.

Pipes ran down into the shaft, which was filled with water up to a foot below the edge of the open elevator door. I knew that pumps fed this water to the irrigation system that allowed the University to grow crops for the people that lived here before the raiding had caused their numbers to swell.

“Where does this water come from?” I mused.

I ran back to the barricade and shouted to no one in particular, “Did anyone of you men live here before the raiders came?”

A few of the soldiers raised their hands. I pointed at the nearest.

“Where does the water that fills these shafts come from?”

“Um…er…” he stammered.

“Quick! Anyone?” I clicked my fingers impatiently.

“A fire suppression system!” blurted out an older man, “There used to be maintenance tunnels down there, but a fire main was busted years ago. The General ordered us to leave it and we’ve used it ever since.”

“What feeds the fire system?”

“Dunno, sir. Probably a cistern somewhere in the sub-structure.”

“Any idea where the tunnels lead? Any exits?”

“We never ventured into the sub-structure, the Ghantri never allowed us.”

“I bet the General did, though. With his goon squad.” The man just gave me a shrug. I had what I needed, though.

I returned to the shafts and stared into their gloomy depths. The light of a nearby lamp caused darkness to pool in the corners, lighting the shafts only faintly. My gaze drifted, a thousand miles away. A plan began to form in my mind, the many cogs meshing like pieces of a puzzle. I needed objectives. Obstacles that were in my way, that I could set people to task to remove.

I raced up the stairs, taking them three at a time. I got two flights up before I was absolutely wrecked, and remembered to boost my stamina with a quick Repair Paradigm. I had to use it again before I reached my destination.

“Tac!” I said, bursting into the workshop that Rego and Tac had set up. They were busy connecting dozens of battery cells to a bank of charging stations they had erected. A pair of runners were standing by, ready to take the latest charged cells back to the soldiers.

“Seth,” he said, “What can I do for you?”

“I have a new job for you.”

He turned his optical sensors toward the workbench he was at, inspecting his current task. Rego waved him away.

“I got this, Tac. I can monitor the amps on my suit kit.”

“Very well, Private,” said Tac, “I’m all yours, Lieutenant.”

“Come with me.”

I led him across the hall and up another ten levels, before arriving at Osiris’ quarters. Immediately following his departure, I had stormed my way down here in a fit of seething anger. I guess I had thought to toss the apartment, vent some of my rage out on his possessions. A poor substitute for the real thing, I know.

The three-room apartment was austere and sparsely furnished, so much so that it caught me unprepared. A simple cot, a single small dining table, a single wooden chair. I had seen the trappings of a decadent man in other areas of the tower, such as his operations room where we had met him, but to find such simple accommodations…well it took the steam out of much of my anger.

I tossed the apartment anyway, I just did it more methodically, is all I’m saying. Less emotion, more thinking. I found his stash of data devices tucked under his bed in an unadorned briefcase within moments.

I pointed to the case, which I had left on the table.

“We’re going to go through Blackburn’s computers, and see if we can find any records indicating he had information on the Ghantri, the Sectis in particular, but anything that pertains to his operations, past and present. Anything.”

“We are?”

“Well, you are. If I’m ever going to face Osiris in the future, I need ammunition to take him down, some insight into how he operates, how he thinks and how he makes decisions.”

“A most important task. I shall begin at once.”

“Not right away, I have something else for you to do. Once you’ve finished this, you can work on the Osiris records.”

He regarded me, his body upright with his head tilted to one side.

“You want me to collect these and catalogue them?”

“For now, but first I want you to focus on trying to crack that implant we tore from the Sectis’ head.”

“Ah, the neuro-module.”

“We need to find out communications protocols, shipborne protocols. I want to know how their fleet monitors each other – their friend or foe interrogation system.”

“You think it would be in here?” he retrieved the implant module from a latched slot on his chassis.

“I hope it is.”

“Very well, I’ll give it my undivided attention.”

“You have until we leave.”

“We’re leaving?”

“As soon as we’re ready.”

“I should be able to link all these devices up, share their processing memory to crack this module. Some of these computers are quite sophisticated, considering their age. Mr Blackburn seems to have hoarded any computers of any significant power he could find. Two of these AI Cores are sufficient to control several factory sized facilities at any one time.”

“You’re the expert on these things. Do what you need to do.”

He went to work right away, gathering up all the tablets, AI Cores, and data wafers - anything that could be used to store data or process information. One by one, he started to pull small cables from a recess on his forearm and plug them into the devices. Eventually, he turned to me.

“This may take some time. Mr Blackburn used high-quality encryption systems on some of these tablets. I will contact you the moment I have an answer.”

“This may be our only hope of getting out of here alive, so…you know…”

“No pressure?” he said.

“Yeah. No pressure.”

3.

I began to foster a growing respect for those in command of dire situations of the past. A hundred different things needed to be addressed before the next wave of assaults started, and for some reason these people expected me to provide guidance. I stopped overthinking it after an hour, started asking questions of how they would prefer to proceed and just nodding my agreeance. The people here knew what they wanted, they just wanted someone of authority to give them approval.

I said as much to Ormund, whose logistical experience far outshone my own.

When you look down at them from the walls, he said, what is your first thought, regarding them?

I want to help them, I replied, I want to try and save them.

The ablest of leaders, the finest commanders, are nothing more than experienced servants. They know how to obey, they learn how to follow commands. Your men know that you’re not just some rich man’s son given a prestigious command. They know that you earned it. The people there are looking for someone just like you. They thought they had it in Osiris Blackburn, but now you’re all they have.

Lucky them.

Hey, when the shit hit the fan, you stayed behind. You already made an impression on that Cohen kid, your actions on the wall so far have only bolstered their opinion of you.

Alexander Cohen was one of the local fighters we had met previously. He had led scout teams out in the city ruins, tracking enemy movements. At least he did before the siege started. It was Alex who had guided us to the Sectis’ lair, a courageous act in the face of certain danger. He was something of a respected soldier among the younger fighters, one that even the older men and women liked. It was his idea for us to take over command of the defences, which ended up being extended to the entire refugee camp. Now civilians were coming to me with their problems – local leaders seeking rationing advice, medical resources and even one mediation of a dispute.

These people know what they’re doing, though. I’m barely making any decisions at all!

You are. You made one hell of a decision to just stick it out with them. I bet even now you are working on a plan to get them out of there, too.

About that…

What do you need?

How many supplies will I need to keep four thousand people alive for three weeks?

A lot. How much do you already have?

Enough to feed five hundred for two weeks. Plenty of water.

As a general rule, each adult needs 2000 calories a day to survive. There’s some leeway with that, of course, but anything less and they’ll start to starve. A three-week stretch is not too long a period to go without a proper diet. So as long as there is enough water, you can ration down to 1500 calories.

How will I know the calorie content of crops?

If you can get me a list of your supplies, I can have Zoe do the math for you?

I also need you to go over those station blueprints for this region, I said, find me anything that shows us another way out below the sub-surface. The shafts down in the elevators lead into a maintenance passageway, I want to know if we can drain them and lead the civilians out that way.

I’ll feed whatever I find directly to your overlay.

With the information I needed, I rounded up as many of the local leaders I could find and gathered them around a barrel fire in the refugee camp. The nights were cold here, and people huddled around these sources of warmth throughout the night. While I waited for them to settle down and listen, I watched how they were holding up. They were scared, tired and eager for hope.

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve asked you all here,” I began, calling out over the crackling of the fire, “I need your help with some things…”

“Is the Protectorate coming to save us?” called an elderly man near the centre. His question was met with several nodding heads.

I shook my head. “We’re it, for now. But we do have a plan, or at least we’re working on one.”

“If they’re not coming, how will we beat this army?” another cried.

“We’re not going to beat it, we’re going to go around it.”

“They’ve got us surrounded!”

“I brought my family here because they told us it was safe!”

It was getting out of hand, as more grievances were aired and more questions were asked. They all started talking over themselves, and eventually I had to shout to be heard.

“Everyone calm down! We’re not helping by losing our cool here. I said we’re working on a plan and I meant it, but I need your help. I asked you here because I was told you people are the leaders in this community. What I need from you is a stockpile and rationing of all food. And I mean all food. We’re in this together, and if we’re going to get out of this alive, everyone needs to be fed. No hoarding, no hiding food.”

“Where are we going to get more? We need to feed our families first!”

“I understand that, but if we can get an accurate accounting of what food we have, we’ll know how far we can travel in the time that we have.”

A hard-faced woman near the front raised a hand. I nodded to her.

“Where are we going to go?” she said.

“The Jump Gate,” I waited until the murmuring subsided, “We have a pretty good idea where we can get a ship, but we need to be able to feed everyone to get us there. It’s roughly a three week trip to the Jump Gate, and I have someone who can work out how much food we need, but first we need to find out how much we already have.”

“What if it’s not enough?” she said. The others nodded again, looking at me in askance.

“Once we know our shortfallings, we’ll have a clear objective – obtain more food.”

“Where?” cried out another woman.

I smiled and pointed up into the night sky. Several of them looked up and had confused looks on their faces. I didn’t blame them.

“What do you mean?” said the first woman.

“There’s a whole fleet’s worth of supplies up there, just waiting to be taken.”

The murmuring started again, but the woman just looked at me and gave me a sad smile. She stepped up to me and held out her hand. I took it.

“I’m Merade. I came here with my husband and three boys a few months ago. My husband died three weeks back – killed while trying to protect the other refugees. My eldest two boys died last week trying to do the same thing. My last lad is up on that wall right now. If you say you can get these people to safety, I’ll make sure these whingers pull their weight.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am. I truly am.”

“I know you are. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Any help will be greatly appreciated. I’m not from these parts, so I don’t know how to motivate these people, only the soldiers. If they can help me, I will do my utmost best to try and get you and the others out of this system.”

“You need anything else?”

“I’m working on an escape plan to get people out of here, through the elevator shafts in the tower. Once I have directions through the sub-surface tunnels below, we’ll be evacuating through there. I could also use someone with some welding experience who doesn’t mind getting wet. Once we’re out of the university, we’ll need to get to that spire, about forty kilometres ringward. Anyone who needs assistance marching, we need to organise carrying or some other form of mobility.”

“We’re all used to marching long distances. Some of us walked for weeks to get here. Those who couldn’t make it…it was a tough decision, but tough decisions are what let us survive. I’ll see what I can do about that worker.”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t know things had gotten so bad here. No one knew.”

She patted my arm in a motherly gesture, smiling again. She turned and joined the throng of community leaders, talking with them in a firm voice.

Ormund, I texted, I need one more thing.

Name it.

Find me a ship out there that hasn’t been picked clean by the Ghantri.

We’ll start working on it right away.

And tell me the shelf life of Protectorate fleet ship rations.

“Merade!’ I called after her, “What’s the name of your son?”

She smiled at me, again. “Alex Cohen.”

4.

“LT!” crackled my handheld radio, “There’s movement out here!”

It was Harris, ever the watchful sentinel. I had him in the highest part of the wall, with the best eyes in the defence. I guessed I wouldn’t be getting any sleep after all.

“On my way.”

I left Merade and company as they started to hash out a plan, huddled together around the fire. I had a good feeling about her, a feeling I’d found the right person to keep these people from falling apart. I would need her in the days to come, of that much I was certain.

I jogged to my section of the wall, nodding to the assembled men as they began to man their posts once more. Civilian runners were still delivering battery cells from the tower, making sure the soldiers had at least one cell each. I drew my lurzak blade, and held my trusty PX-2 in my off-hand, inspecting the men and women at my direct command. Kekkin was on the rooftop by my right, yelling with gusto at his troop. I could see Renthal to my left, motivating his own group in a similar manner.

The soldiers with me were by no means professional or disciplined, but they were determined and hardened by recent experiences. I needed to keep that determination alive in them, during the next few hours, if we were to survive the next assault. I needed to buy the time needed to prepare for my plan to succeed. If the wall fell while the civilians were still evacuating, they would be slaughtered.

“There!” called one of my soldiers, a woman who couldn’t be older than Zoe. She pointed out over the barricade into the night. I scanned the terrain, the ruined buildings, and structures. I could make out an undulating sea of bodies creeping through the dark.

“Hold your fire!” I called. Harris, I texted, show me what your optics can see.

Harris, whose eyes were cybernetically enhanced to see in low light conditions, began to send me still images of the terrain. I started to mark the enemy positions on my overlay, letting my tactical app do the rest.

“Sir!?” called a soldier to my right. I could see the tension in his features as he gripped his rifle with white knuckles.

“Hold fire. We’re waiting until they’re close enough for the lights.”

We waited for several tense moments, as we let them creep closer to our defences. When they were less than a hundred metres from the walls, I reached into a utility pouch on my hip and drew out a flare gun. I fired the flare into the air, signalling the people on the wall. At my command, hundreds of high-powered spotlights illuminated the creeping horde. The ranks of raiders recoiled at the sudden brightness, rising from what cover they crept behind.

“Fire!” I yelled, my voice carrying across the walls.

Bright flashes of laser fire and hardlight bullets slashed through the ranks, cutting them down by the dozens. I waved my hands at Geko’s squad, manning a catapult he had constructed during the day. It launched projectiles made of glass bottles filled with flammable liquids, and a small detonator ignited the bundle when it landed. Flames blossomed out over the enemy. Screams rang out down below, while the wall erupted in a great torrent of hardlight.

The front ranks of the enemy faltered, unprepared for such a slaughter. Renthal’s laser artillery raked through the shaken foe, and within minutes they fled.

The soldiers on the wall cheered at the fleeing enemy. It was a momentary victory, I knew, and didn’t share in the celebration. I ordered half of the soldiers to get their cells back to the runners for recharging, waiting before I prematurely disarmed my own weapons.

When the battlefield was clear, we left the lights on, widening the guarded area around the wall. We could not run these lights indefinitely, but they had performed their function admirably. They wouldn’t surprise the enemy again.

My radio crackled to life, once more.

“LT, Harris here.”

“Go ahead.”

“I only counted a thousand in that wave. I think it was a probe.”

“I think so, too. They’ll probably do it again a couple of times before the main push.”

“How long do you think?”

“An hour. Maybe less. It’s what I’d do. The third wave will be even less than that. The enemy commander will have our strong point mapped by then.”

Kekkin spoke up over the radio, “We should move Renthal’s laser and Geko’s thrower. Calak will target them first chance they get.”

“Make it happen. All positions, any casualties?”

A few of the squad leaders reported minor injuries and one death. We had gotten lucky.

The next probe attack came forty minutes later. We saw them advance into the light and dig into cover. They were right at the periphery of our range, and I didn’t want troops wasting ammunition by firing at long range, so I ordered everyone to hold their fire again.

“They’re waiting to see if the heavy weapons fire,” said Kekkin.

“Okay, let’s give them what they want,” I signalled for Renthal to open up.

With a low pitched hum, the laser stabbed out into the night, saturating the white light with crimson energy. Several of the enemy were burned before the wave charged, converging on the section containing the artillery piece. I let them get closer, then signalled for Geko to fire.

During the wait, I had gotten Geko to range the catapult to cover the heavy laser, knowing they would charge it.

The soldiers opened fire, adding to the destruction caused by the fiery death raining down on the enemy. Dozens made it to the wall, but I’d reinforced Renthal’s position. When the first raiders managed to reach the walls, several of the raiders tossed pipe bombs and improvised explosives. Others threw rappelling lines or carried ladders. What few managed to reach the top were easily cut down by the extra soldiers I had posted there.

The second wave was pushed back, a handful of survivors fleeing beyond the range of our lights. This time, the cheering was less energetic. Casualty reports started to flood in and I mentally calculated where reinforcements needed to go. Correction, we didn’t have reinforcements, I had to shuffle my forces around to even out the numbers.

“What’s next?” asked Renthal, breathing heavily into the radio.

“The kak will know our rate of fire for the thrower, now,” said Kekkin, “They’ll be able to field enough men to push through it.”

“Activate the mines?” asked Geko.

“Not yet. I want to save those for the main assault,” I said.

“Move the guns again?” asked Renthal.

“No point, they’ll just wait until we fire it before mustering on that position. Sorry Renthal, you’re their target for now.”

“I’m ready.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s turn off the lights next time they charge, let them stumble in the dark a little when they’re out there.”

“Naga-zak!” called Kekkin, a chortle in his voice, “Squad leaders can direct each section’s fire, we all have tactical app.”

“Yup. They’ll bring torches for the main assault, but this should give them something to think about. Triptych, I want those sentry drones in the air for this one, too. No more than a hundred metres from the wall.”

Another wave of runners arrived, and my troops eagerly reloaded. I waved one away, I had not fired a single shot yet. More runners arrived carrying water containers, dealing out refreshments to the men. I questioned one about who organised it.

“Merade, sir! She’s got us all drawing water from the shafts while the pumps empty them.”

I let him go, grinning. I just had to hold out for a while longer. It was time I let the others know of my plan. I went over the details over the radio.

“How long will it take to evacuate everyone into the tunnels?” asked Harris.

“A while, a couple of hours at least.”

“The main attack will have started by then.”

“I know. We have to give them as much time as necessary.”

“And then?” asked Rego.

“We fall back and join them.”

A soldier nearby, the woman who had called out earlier, overheard the discussion. “Sir, if we fall back from the walls, they’ll spill over and overrun us.”

I looked at her. “We can hold out until there’s a lull in the fighting.”

“She’s right,” said Kekkin, “No guarantee the kak will let up.”

I started to feel the frustration building up. “I’m not going to leave people behind.”

“We’re not just people, sir, we’re soldiers,” said the woman.

Alex spoke up. I had given him command of his own squad, as I had done so with other local soldiers with command experience. “Remember when we talked before sneaking into the Sectis’ lair?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Everyone on this wall is ready to die so those people can get to safety.”

“I’m not going to sacrifice these soldiers.”

“Not all of us, but you will need to leave some of us behind. It’s our fight, Seth. We’re ready to do what’s necessary.”

“Naga Team will stand with you, kitrak,” said Kekkin. The rest of the squad voiced their agreeance.

“No,” said Alexander, “Your place is in the sky. The civilians will need Naga Team to get off this station. When the main attack starts, get down into those tunnels with my people and lead them to safety.”

“I’m not going to order these men and women to stay while we flee. We’re not Osiris, we’re not like him!” I almost shouted into the radio.

“You won’t need to. They knew this was a fight to the death. At least now you’ve allowed their deaths to mean something.”

“This is not the way!”

“It is. You know it’s the only way this is going to work. We hold the line, while you get the civilians to safety.”

“God dammit!”

“Naga-zak,” said Kekkin softly, “We give these people the best chance to live if we lead them. We won’t need to leave all the soldiers behind, we can still take some with us. We’ll need them to take the ships in the docking sphere.”

I lowered my radio, looking down at my feet and shaking my head. The woman next to me put her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, sir. We’re ready for this.”

“What’s your name?” I asked quietly.

“Peta,” she told me, “I was a child when the Ghantri took over the station. My parents were killed during the first year. I always knew I’d die here, I’m glad now it will help save the rest of my people.”

“You people are all crazy, you know that? Ambrose Station has turned everyone here into either blood-crazed psychopaths or the best damn people who ever held a gun. What happened here? Why the two extremes?”

She smiled, a scar turning her grin into a grimace. “We’ve been here for almost thirty years. We saw the Push as the last chance we had to get off this station alive. That was nine years ago. The ways of Protectorate space are alien to us, now.”

Nine years, I thought, to me, it’s only been a few years. A strange feeling came over me, it took me a moment to realise what it was. I felt disconnected in time. All these years travelling through the Network, losing time with the rest of the galaxy each time I shifted into Jump Space. I’d been skipping reality, spending only as much time as needed before moving to the next frame of existence.

For the first time in a long time, I started to realise that I did not belong here. I never did. Saving these people wouldn’t bring my squad back, it wouldn’t bring Eric back to life. I doubted it would even improve my mental health, more likely it would fuel more nightmares than end them.

My vision blurred and I suddenly felt very light-headed.

“Whoa, there!” said someone nearby. I was having trouble making out who the shapes around me were. I felt someone lower me to the ground, I felt very cold and was shivering. With dread, I realised that I couldn’t see! I tried to call out for help, but I couldn’t form words.

I could make out a voice near my ear saying over and over, “It’s okay, just breathe, just breathe.”

Eventually, I came around. My eyes were teary and my face was very cold. Several people were crouched down around me, worry clear on their faces. Peta was holding my hand in hers, and when I looked down at my other I saw it shaking.

“I’m okay,” I said, managing a whisper.

I could hear the sounds of battle behind me and made to stand.

“Hold on, take it easy,” she said, “They’ve got it covered. Just get yourself sorted out. Take your time.”

She started to stroke my hair, making shushing noises.

“You’re a mother?” I asked.

“I was.”

“I’m sorry. About the panic attack. About everything…”

“It’s okay. We all get them sometimes. You’ve had to make a tough decision.”

“Seems it was made for me.”

“That’s a Cohen for you. They were all like that.”

I looked around and saw that Kekkin was with us, firing over the wall. I made to stand, and this time Peta helped me to my feet. I joined Kekkin at the wall, watching the firefight unfold in the near darkness. The flashes of energy weapons lit the field sporadically like strobes. The occasional red beam from Renthal’s heavy laser brightened the terrain like a flare.

When Kekkin noticed me, he nodded.

“How are we going?” I said.

“The kak die like fedang.”

“I need to talk to you about Alexander.”

“Warrior is listening.”

“We can’t let him sacrifice himself. I promised his mother.”

He paused his firing for a moment and looked at me. “He will not like that.”

“No, he won’t. You’ll probably have to knock him out and carry him.”

He nodded. “Will need him, is natural leader to his people.”

“Where is his section?”

He indicated a section on the far side of the university grounds. “Kitrak has already gotten enough volunteers to stay behind. Can tell him to reinforce my section.”

“Thanks.”

“He’ll hate you for this, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Better than dying. Mother will work harder to control civilians.”

“I’m counting on that.”

Without another word, he turned back to the wall and resumed firing at the enemy as they tried to swarm Renthal’s position. I saw a trio of sentry drones swoop the main body of raiders, peppering them with their light energy weapons.

I couldn’t bring myself to fire upon them. I had lost all desire to kill, after my attack. The senseless violence these converts instigated sickened me. Whoever had convinced them that this was the way of the galaxy now was the true enemy – these people were merely tools of their will. Shooting a few more of them did not seem like a valuable use of my energy.

By the time they were driven back, my hands had stopped shaking.

5.

We were certain now that the enemy had enough information about our defences to mount their main attack. They knew our numbers, the capabilities of our heavy weapons, and the mettle of our troops. They had also found the best place to climb – an improvised explosive had damaged a section of the wall, creating a sort of ramp. It was tough climbing, but better than climbing a ladder or rappelling rope while under fire. The bulk of our sacrificial forces were to defend that location, while a skeleton crew of defenders would man the remaining wall.

Renthal had found a soldier with an overlay implant and with Rego’s help had managed to activate it enough to interface with the heavy laser. Geko’s catapult squad were easily able to operate their weapon without his guidance.

It was time for me to oversee the rest of the evacuation.

Ormund had come through with a planned route through several kilometres of tunnels below the surface. I made sure that Merade found people with overlays and shared the path with them. The farmland surrounding the tower had been reduced to a soggy marsh as the water from the elevator shafts was pumped out. When it was low enough to wade through we started to load supplies and people along the tunnels below. One of Merade’s people came up with the brilliant idea of making rafts and dragging the supplies through the water. It would slow down the people walking, somewhat, but getting supplies as far along as we could was vital to our success. We may face several days of space travel before we could locate a viable candidate for a supply run.

Tac, however, was still struggling with cracking the Sectis neuro-module. If we couldn’t get those codes, there were an awful lot of Ghantri ships around the station that we would have to contend with. We had to push on, regardless.

First down the tunnels were the wounded and the elderly. We had enough rafts constructed that we could spare a few for the most immobile – I wasn’t prepared to give up on them just yet, despite Merade’s assurances that her people were strong enough to face such measures.

Next, I ordered the women and children. There was some resistance to sending many of the women down, as they had it in their heads to join the soldiers on the walls – anything to delay the enemy from reaching the tunnels. Merade managed to convince them to go, citing the need for the mothers to protect their children in the days to come. The men and women who were to go last were the ablest of the civilians – a smaller group than I’d hoped, most of these had joined the wall to reinforce the numbers of the soldiers. I made sure that Cohen’s sacrificial force did not accept any more volunteers, a task that Merade also proved instrumental in achieving.

“How is the schedule going?” I asked her after talking with another group of labourers.

“A little slow at the moment,” she said, “but only because the bulk of the refugees are squeezing through that bottleneck at the moment. Should speed up once they get into a rhythm.”

I’d sent Harris and Geko on to lead the first of the refugee’s with Rego and Tac in amongst the wounded. There was a large chamber, a kilometre along the tunnels, which we had identified as a good rendezvous point. From there on, we would use armed forces on point, in case we encountered the Ghantri down below.

When everything appeared to be going according to plan, I took a moment to rest. My recent panic attack had drained me of much-needed motivation, my emotional energy almost completely dry. I had to get myself sorted before I started to make mistakes, or worse – freeze up during a crisis. I realised that I had been running on adrenaline and anger for the last twelve hours. I still hadn’t slept since we had arrived at the university, almost two days ago. A lot had changed since then, and none of it for the better.

Less than a minute after I sat down, I was out like a light.

I dreamt of the usual things – warm dark seas, alien gods, and futile struggles. A new presence graced my nightmares now – the smug countenance of Osiris Blackburn, the warm blood of Artemis drowning me in guilt.

Mercifully, the dream was short. A messenger shook me awake, handing me my radio.

“Go ahead,” I said, groggily.

“The attack is starting,” said Kekkin.

“I’m on my way. Are you in position?”

“I am.”

I splashed freezing cold water on my face, washing the grime of combat and sleep from my eyes, and left at a jog. I could hear a great roar carry out over the university grounds, as thousands of the raiders voiced their intent. By the time I reached the walls, the raiders had reached the first row of mines.

Before the second line of defences had fallen, we had seeded dozens of remote mines throughout the coming battlefield. They took their share of kills but failed to halt the enemy charge. Our foe reached the heavy weapons range, and the battle began in earnest.

My breath caught and my heart thudded faster in my chest at the sight of their numbers. My god, I thought, there are so many!

Peta, the soldier who had helped me before, smiled grimly at me. “Remember this night, sir. This is the night that we lived.”

I put my gauntlet on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She nodded at me, then shouldered her rifle and started shooting. I didn’t join the fight right away, instead turned about and inspected the evacuation. Still, too many people had not gone down into the tunnels. We had to buy them time. I steeled myself, gripping my PX-2 in two hands, and returned to the wall.

As predicted, the main brunt of the assault was focused on the heavy laser. This time we had moved it to a position that was surrounded by ruined buildings. When the enemy managed to overrun the position, the gunners initiated a reactor overload and detonated the emplacement. The explosion killed several hundred of the enemy, and dozens of our own, but the charge was finally halted, if only momentarily. With no clear objective, as the heavy laser position provided no direct avenue of ingress into the university compound, the main force peeled off their attack after several minutes of heavy fighting. They tried to push at us from several directions at once, seeking weaker sections of the walls, but each time we were able to cut down their forces before they could find an easy access point. After some time, I fell back from the wall to check on the evacuation again.

Hope swelled in my heart, most of the evacuee’s had left. It was time to pull back our forces and leave the others to die.

It was a bittersweet feeling. Equal parts heartbreaking and cherished relief. I had tears in my eyes when I ordered our forces off the wall and into the grounds. I glanced over at Kekkin’s position, reinforcing Alexander and his squad. The Garz’a gave me a nod and snuck up on the brave young man. A swift crack with the hilt of his lurzak was all it took, and he foisted the unconscious soldier on his back.

I turned back to my squad, still firing at the enemy as they probed our defences anew. My mouth was dry, and I stammered out a few words before I realised that nothing I said would make a difference. These men and women under my command were grinning cheerfully, clapping me on the back when they had a chance and wishing me well in the coming days. They were actually thanking me!

With nothing more to say, with nothing left to do, I climbed down off the wall and into the university grounds. Renthal and Triptych joined me, pride clear on their grimy faces. We waited a few minutes for Kekkin to join us and helped him carry Alexander with us. The band of soldiers we had chosen to help us protect the refugees gathered nearby and we wasted no time. When the last of the civilians climbed down into the elevator shafts, we followed. After the first fifty metres, I could no longer hear the fighting above us.

“This will do,” I said, my voice cracking.

Triptych and Renthal used the last of their explosives, setting them to collapse the tunnels behind us. With the blast, we cut ourselves off from the horde and sealed the fate of those we left behind to buy us our freedom.

It was a solemn march to join the others. One I knew we would never forget.

6.

The cold, the dark, and the damp were kindred spirits to our moods as we moved through the tunnels to join the others. We all knew the price we had just paid, what our allies had paid, for the freedom we were to fight for ahead. My breath came in short, ragged bursts and I dared not speak lest my voice give away the heartbreak I felt.

I marked that day in my mind. Burned into my memory for the rest of my days, the sacrifices made by those men and women. I try every day to honour their memory, for the gift they gave us.

It took me a while to pull myself together. Eventually, I took a deep breath and swore to carry on – it was the least I could do. Before long, we reached the waiting throng of evacuees and regrouped with the rest of Naga Team.

“Gather round,” I said, motioning for all of the soldiers to meet with us, “We have a long march through the sub-surface ahead of us. Those of you with overlay implants will have waypoints uploaded by now, so make sure you stick close to anyone that doesn’t. I want teams of three down the line of civilians, watching out on any side passages. Stay alert. Don’t think that because we’re out of the university that we’re safe. We are not. I don’t have to remind you all that this is Ghantri territory now.”

I looked everyone over, saw their dirt-caked faces and the grim looks of determination. I needed to give these people hope, not a warning. I tried again.

“You did good tonight. It was a tough fight, a tough call to make. We made it, and now we have to live with it. Remember those we left behind. Hold them close to your hearts – for what we do with their sacrifice, what meaning we give it, is up to you. We have a job to do, an important one. I know that you have it in you to see it through. These people,” I pointed behind me to the civilians, “they’re counting on us to get them to safety. We cannot falter now.

“I’m proud of you all. Prouder than any other fighting force I’ve ever served with. You’re up there with the galaxy’s bravest. Stay true to your fallen brothers and sisters, and to yourselves, and I’ll show you the stars.”

The soldiers nodded their heads and began to look at each other with pride. I clasped a few arms and gripped their wrists, then we went to work.

I took point. Naga Team joined me, our suit lights leading the way. I had not retrieved my energy rifle, having given it to a soldier on the wall many hours before, so I once more had my sidearm and lurzak at the ready. Triptych controlled a flight of recon drones, sending them ahead through the tunnels.

We had gotten maybe two kilometres through the sub-surface before we encountered our first Ghantri. As usual, it was Jaani – working on pulling apart a purification plant for salvage. They tended to wander about more than the Ghantri themselves; they probably thought it was relatively safe to do so.

With cold efficiency, we killed the five of them on sight. We could not afford to let any escape to warn their Ghantri cousins of our exodus. Not with so many unarmed civilians in our care.

Alex awoke before we encountered any more. He stormed up to the front of the line, having been carried with the wounded. I halted the line when I saw him and sent the rest of Naga Team on to scout ahead.

He was red-faced and angry, tears cutting lines of clean skin down his sooty face.

“You had no right!” he cried, pointing a finger at me angrily.

I was about to reply when Merade broke through the throng to answer instead.

“I did,” she said, “I had the right of a mother.”

He turned to face her and I could see him struggling to find words.

“I couldn’t let you stay,” she said, “I could not bear to lose you, too.”

“I had to! I couldn’t leave the others to face the enemy alone!”

“I’ve lost too much already. Your father, Timon, and then Aman. I wasn’t ready to let go of you as well.”

“That is so selfish! Everyone has lost someone!”

“So I’m a selfish woman for wanting to see her son live? I can take that title if it means that I do.”

“Don’t be so hard on her, Alex,” I said, reaching for his arm. He pulled away and whirled on me.

“You had no right to do this! You took that death from me! What will they think of me? My own soldiers facing death without me by their sides! My friends!”

“Believe me, I know what you are going through.”

“How can you?” he said, shaking a fist at me.

I reached inside my armour and pulled my medal from out. “See this star? When the Protectorate came, during the Push, my squad was left behind when they pulled out. One by one they all died. The last one I put out his misery myself. I spent months running through these tunnels, hating myself, hating what I had become. This is what they gave me when I made it back. Some piece of worthless metal.

“I spent years afterwards feeling the guilt of surviving. Why me? I asked myself that every day. You know what the answer was?”

He shook his head.

“There is no answer! You just accept that they died and you did not. Your friends’ deaths have a meaning! This!” I cried, sweeping my arm towards the sullen faces gathered to watch us, “This is what their deaths mean. This is what my squad’s death means. You and I are the same – we have the same debt to pay to those that died to get us here. And by all the stars in the galaxy, I’m going to make sure that we both pay that debt.”

With a twirl of my hand, I signalled for the march to start again and moved off after Naga Team. I didn’t look back behind me, but I could hear Alexander following. He sniffled and wiped his face on his sleeve, but he said no more.

7.

“LT,” called Triptych, “Contacts on drone 2-2.”

I brought up the drone on my overlay. It showed a circular chamber with a large drain in the centre, where several Ghantri were seated around. They were eating a meal of what looked like giant beetles and fish.

“Where is this? How far?” I said.

“It’s off one of the side passages, about a hundred and twenty metres to the left, ninety metres along.”

I called Naga Team to me and halted the procession. Alexander joined us as we huddled.

“What do you think? Can we get this lot past without alerting them?” I said this looking at Kekkin, but Alex answered.

“Not worth the risk. If we need to engage further down, they could attack our rear.”

Kekkin nodded. “Human is right. Might make it past, might not. We control the fight. We control when we fight. Might not be so lucky further on.”

I looked to Harris. He shrugged. “Never known the sarge to get it wrong.”

“You fought Ghantri before?” this I asked of Alex.

He shook his head. “We always steered clear of the sub-surface. We left the grubs alone, and they didn’t come up and kill us.”

“They’re not like humans, Orlii or Garz’a. More like those berserkers – mortal wounds will just slow them down and piss them off. It’s got to be kill shots until you’re sure they’re dead.”

He nodded, checking his rifle.

I called up one of the soldiers and sent word down the line to hold up. Everyone hunkered down in the water, shivering and afraid, but I did my best to assure them that we had everything under control. Then we stalked ahead.

The Ghantri had a portable generator hooked up to a socket on one of the walls, and local power was able to illuminate a third of the overhead lights in the area. Tac reported that there were no radio signals detectable nearby, which meant these Ghantri were out of range of one of their comms nodes. This was good news – we were far enough from a Ghantri stronghold that this may have just been an outlier or scout camp.

We counted nine of the aliens, with one other exit from the compartment, besides the drain. We spent a moment discussing our attack, then moved in.

Speed and surprise were our main advantages. Kekkin and I took point, leaping the pit in the centre and plunging headlong into the furthest Ghantri. As they turned to face us, the rest of the squad spread out in the chamber and opened fire, starting on the outer pairs and working their way inwards.

Half of them didn’t even have time to activate their shields. I killed my first one with a quick thrust through the eye, using my foot as leverage to yank the blade out of the skull before firing at point blank range into the Ghantri to my left. I had gotten used to fighting with the PAT-9 exo-rigs, and without mine working, I had to make sure my blows were precise and aimed at vital areas. There was no time for fancy swordplay – strike, recover, rinse, repeat.

I ducked under a clumsy swipe delivered by my second victim, then drove my blade through its exposed armpit. The beast gurgled and let out a bellow of air, the folds of flesh on its face slapping together. It tried to grab me, but I was too fast for it. Instead, I sidestepped then kicked the grub in the back, sending it stumbling into Kekkin’s waiting attack. He struck the Ghantri’s neck and blood spurted out in a torrent.

A third tried to stand and defend itself but was unable to get its multitude of cybernetic legs out from under its bulk in time. I drove my lurzak straight down its spine from the base of its neck. Kekkin neatly finished off another – one, two, then three slices across various arteries and a fourth cut rupturing the abdomen. The entrails of the alien spilt out into the drain at the centre of the compartment.

The strobing hardlight finished, the last of the Ghantri gunned down.

“Make sure they’re dead,” I said.

It was grim work, but we had no time for niceties and we could not afford to take risks. The compartment echoed with the final shots delivered by Naga Team as they carried out my order.

I kept my eye on Alexander as we marched back to the refugees. I needed to gauge his mental state – I needed to know whether what he saw was affecting him, or if he were letting the severity of our circumstances give him the strength needed to carry on. He was steely-eyed, determination prominently displayed on his features. It would have to do.

When we reached the others, I gave the order to move out and once more the procession started to shamble onwards. We had a lot of ground to cover and we had no idea about the strength of the enemy presence. After another kilometre, we lost the water that so far had allowed us to haul our supplies with ease. A hatch sealed off the section we needed to traverse and it had rusted shut. While I got a pair of civilians armed with welding equipment to cut it open, Merade organised the supplies to be distributed among as many able-bodied people as could carry them. The wounded were another matter, the loss of their mobility meant that we would have to march at a slower pace.

I had a word with the dozen or so medics we still possessed – civilians with any practical skills at first aid or medicine – and we were able to break down the rafts to produce serviceable stretchers for the more seriously wounded. The rest would walk under their own power, aided by a medic or a volunteer. We lost valuable time, but I was not willing to entertain leaving them behind under any circumstance.

While I waited for the preparations to finish, I approached Tac for an update. He was silent, holding a pair of AI Cores in his arms. I could see several cables running over his shoulder to the case of computers we had liberated from Osiris’ quarters. I had to get his attention several times before he responded.

“Apologies, Seth,” he said eventually, “I am most vexed by a particular set of encryption keys at the moment. My attention is somewhat divided.”

“That’s okay, just make sure you stay within sight of one of these soldiers, I don’t want you wandering off into a side passage.”

“I have advised those nearest me that I may require guidance.”

“Good. About your progress?”

“These AI’s are troublesome to work with, but I am certain they will see the error of their ways shortly. Once I had acquired their extra memory processors, I should begin to make headway into cracking this implant.”

“You haven’t started on the implant yet?”

“I have made some progress, but require more cognitive processors than I currently possess to confuse and confound the next level of defences. The Sectis use base-twenty two number systems, you see, and a certain encryption algorithm I am finding difficult seems to be similar in concept to a sine-Gordon large amplitude moving breather. Up until this point, the architecture of the implant had a fixation on imaginary, or complex, numbers. But now…”

“I’m sorry, mathematics is not really my strong point.”

“Oh, of course. In short, I am making progress but have temporarily halted in order to increase my computational powers.”

“Any idea how long it will take to crack?”

“Fifteen minutes?”

My hopes rose, “Excellent!”

“Fifteen hours? Fifteen days? Fifteen months?”

“Well, what is it?”

“Whoever put this piece of tech together had a firm grasp of multi-dimensional mechanics. To be honest, I have very little perception of passing time when I am within the matrix that holds this implant’s data secured.”

I sighed, “Just do your best. Let me know when you have anything.”

He nodded and then he was simply gone. A nearby soldier shrugged apologetically to me before giving Tac a gentle push. The chassis dutifully started to march at a sluggish pace and I returned to the head of the line.

We continued on our way.

We had to keep going, we had to get topside again before the Ghantri cottoned on to what we were doing. This ever-present sense of foreboding started to press down on me, like the sword of Damocles hovering over my neck. I kept waiting for a cry to go out, the sound of civilians being gunned down by alien marauders. I couldn’t let my emotions show, I had to put up a strong face for those in my charge. They were scared, tired and nearly without hope. To see me falter would cause a panic. A panicked mob would mean the end of us.

Hours passed, which seemed like days, before we reached our destination. The Ghantri were none-the-wiser, and we had only lost one man – a single person who succumbed to their wounds.

At last, we had reached the surface once more.

8.

We emerged from the tunnels into a bunker complex. The doors were stuck, having been half-buried by soil eroded from a nearby parkland. After we cut an opening and filed through, we were greeted by the glorious rays of the morning sun as the Gossamer star rounded the station’s ring.

We were scant few kilometres from the docking sphere’s access spoke, with ample cover to trek through. It started to look like my plan might actually succeed, but I dared not let my jubilation show in case it was a brief interlude in this hellish quest. Regardless, I let the civilians bask for a few minutes in the warmer air, glad to see their spirits rise. Many hugged and shook the hands of the soldiers with them, elation at cheating certain death.

I hadn’t the heart to tell them that the worst was yet to come.

“Triptych,” I called, “Let’s get the recon drones out there. Guide us into the space elevator.”

He went to work, placing the drone launcher on top of a nearby ruined building. The launcher was essentially just a housing for the drones coupled with an antenna to redirect their data to us. We would not need them once we reached the elevator to the docking sphere.

After a short, ten minute rest we got the crowd moving again. There were several audible groans within earshot, but the people were high-spirited enough to get moving. I was counting on that motivation to keep us going.

The trek to the elevator was uneventful, fortuitously, and I halted the march half a click from the elevator’s entrance. I knew the Ghantri would guard the access spoke and formed up Naga Team once more. As before, Alexander joined us.

The approach to the elevator entrance was well covered by ruined buildings, save for the last hundred metres or so. A plaza opened out before the elevator, space once reserved for welcoming arrivals to Ambrose Station. It was a garish affair, with brightly colour flagstone paths laid into a polished marble landing. The elevator-facing walls of the plaza buildings were inlaid with mosaic artworks, depicting the system and its planets. The hundreds of skeletons littering the ground, victims of the Ghantri Betrayal as they tried to flee to the docking sphere and escape, marred the plaza’s beauty.

Another stain on the plaza was the Ghantri Heavy standing watch like a sentinel.

A Heavy was the Ghantri equivalent of powered armour. They were behemoths, standing over ten metres tall, and were easily the equal to a ground tank in firepower, but with the mobility of a Star Marine. The one single tactical flaw to these nightmares was their intelligence. Ghantri Heavies were usually deployed as a single unit, for when they engaged in battle they were as likely to inflict friendly casualties as enemy ones.

The Protectorate strategists had theorised that the extent of cybernetic augmentation done to those chosen to bear the mechanised suits drove these monsters mad. They were predictable, easily fooled, but still highly dangerous. Apparently, the PAT-9 exo-rigs attached to our armour was one such counter to this walking tank, save that many of our rigs had suffered damage, my own included.

We scouted out the enemy’s location, then retreated for a tactical discussion.

“I want options,” I said.

“Didn’t you take out one of these by yourself?” asked Renthal.

“By pure luck, as you would have it.”

“How?”

“You see the carapace segments along the spine? They continue up to the base of the head. I managed to drop down on one and dislodge a plate before it threw me off its back. When the gang of Ghantri that were pursuing me caught up, a stray shot from my pursuers pissed it off enough that the Heavy started chewing through them with its rotary cannon. I managed to get to a sluice gate in the tunnel we fought down and as the Heavy started to chase the surviving Ghantri down it I dropped it right on the neck. A lucky spike penetrated the thing’s spinal cord and killed it.”

“That’s hardly luck.”

“I was lucky there was a gate I could drop, lucky the Ghantri followed me into the chamber, lucky the Heavy attacked them first and not me, lucky to land on its neck in the first place and rip free an armour plate and lucky the gate dropped right on that exact spot instead of bouncing off the armour.”

“Naga-zak thought fast,” said Kekkin, shaking his head, “Adapted to situation. Made own luck.”

“Well, how do we make our luck this time?” I asked.

“Can our rifles penetrate that armour?” asked Harris.

“Not a chance.”

“Will lurzak?” asked Kekkin.

I thought hard. “Possibly. Up close there are lots of small gaps in the overlapping plates. It may be possible to get a blade in between those.”

“How fast can it pivot?” asked Renthal, “As in how fast can it track a moving target?”

“It’s an anti-vehicular weapons platform, but slow to turn. It does have twin anti-personnel turrets on the hips, though. They can track targets relatively quickly.”

“How smart is it?” asked Triptych.

“Not very. Although I’ve only encountered one personally so I have no way to be sure. Protectorate command seemed to treat them as mere emplacements, with little in the way of strategic embellishments.”

“What does that mean?” asked Renthal.

“Means Ghantri put them there,” answered Kekkin, “Then forget about them.”

“Like this,” I said, gesturing at the hulking Ghantri.

“Is it likely to be in communication with superiors?” asked Harris.

I rubbed my chin, noting for the first time the bristle of several days’ growth on my face. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Heavies tend to get used as single objective tools. ‘Go here and shoot that’ or ‘Stand here and guard this’. Whatever is in command of this Heavy will probably not have a great deal of control over it. It wouldn’t be expected to report in about the day’s progress.”

“What’s the blast radius of those guns?” asked Geko.

“A couple of metres, high explosive shell, concussive force. It can fire at a rate of six shots per second, though.”

Renthal whistled. “Hell of an artillery piece.”

“They took down dozens of assault boats during the Push,” I said, “Fleet made them high-value targets for drone sweeps.”

“I can see why.”

“Where is the ammunition stored?” asked Kekkin.

“I’m not entirely sure. It has to be down the back of it, cylindrical magazines I’m guessing.”

“If we can damage those magazines, we might be able to force it to misfire?” said Renthal.

“That might work,” I said, “Except the rear is the most heavily armoured part. Those shoulder mounted rotary cannons might be able to be damaged, though, and do the same thing.”

“Can our energy rifles damage that?” asked Harris.

“It’s a duranium-4 alloy – fairly good heat dissipation and resistance. How’s your energy knowledge?”

“My marksman configuration might be able to. It has a type-F overcharge capacitor. Runs my clip dry in only a few shots, but they’ll take a piece off it.”

“Do the rest of you have one of those?” I asked.

“Nope,” said Geko, “Best the rest of us have is a type-D.”

“How come?”

“Only need one anti-material rifle per squad,” answered Harris.

“What’s the output of your rifle, Cohen?” I asked.

“It’s just a civilian hunting rifle, plus a few homemade mods. I doubt it has the stopping power of Harris’ gun.”

“Does anyone have any ideas how we take this bastard down then?” I asked.

“We let Harris put a hole in both of those cannons,” said Renthal.

“When cannons are gone, close ranks and disable with lurzaks,” said Kekkin.

“You and I can sneak into position first,” I said, “Before Harris takes out those guns, we’ll need a way to draw the Heavy’s fire from Harris.”

Kekkin nodded, “Rest of squad disperse and harass with small arms fire, draw calak away from Harris.”

“Does anyone have any explosives left?” I asked.

Everyone shook their heads.

“Once one of those cannons gets a bead on your location,” I said, “Fall back immediately and reposition. It will probably start firing before it has you fully zeroed, so you may have a few seconds to high-tail it out of there. The anti-personnel turrets are short range, so if you stay in cover over on this side of the plaza, they shouldn’t be a problem.”

We were about to separate and look for cover when my radio squawked to life.

“We are under attack!” called Rego, whom we had left with the refugees.

“Report!” I said, my blood turning to ice.

“A force of hostiles has located us, we’ve taken casualties but the soldiers are holding them off.”

“What hostiles?”

“Raiders, from the university. They’ve got more energy weapons.”

“How did they find us?”

“I’m not sure, could be chance.”

“Can you hold them off?” I said, noting with concern the sound of small arms fire in the distance. I glanced over at the Heavy. It seemed to have noticed the sound and was getting excited, pacing back and forth across the plaza.

“We outnumber them, but we’ve taken civilian casualties. I think the raiders just opened fire when they saw us.”

“We need to focus on this Heavy, can your forces handle the threat for now?”

“We should, I’ll keep you posted.”

“Negative, I’ll need radio silence until we’re in position for this strike. I’ll radio you when I’m available. I’m tasking recon drones to your location, drones 1-3 and 1-4.”

“Copy that, Rego out. Good luck!”

“You too,” I turned to the squad, “Let’s go, we need to take care of this beast before it decides to investigate that sound.”

We dispersed, and I lost sight of the others as Kekkin and I crept around through the ruins. We had to move fast, but maintain stealth, as we could see the Heavy start to take an interest in what was going on. If it decided that barging in on the firefight was more excitement than standing guard, we would have major problems on our hands.

When we were within twenty metres of the elevator entrance, Kekkin popped his head up slightly and flashed a laser light toward Harris’ sniper perch. We received a flash in reply and then waited for our chance to pounce.

In moments, a bright flash of hardlight lanced out from the ruins and struck the pacing Ghantri. Half a second later the report from the rifle rang out over the plaza. Before the Ghantri managed to turn to face the threat, several other shots flew from around various points in the ruins. Momentarily confused, the Ghantri started to cycle up the twin cannons on its shoulders. The first shots boomed out of the cannons, detonating against a wall on the far side of the plaza as if carpet bombing the place. A great clang sounded, as the damaged cannon seized rotating. The Heavy roared, tearing at the cannon as rounds peppered its armour.

After a few seconds, it managed to rip the gun off its mount and tossed it aside. The Heavy resumed firing, demolishing a building. It tracked its fire across another building face, shelling another wall before I was forced down into cover due to an explosion at close range.

I pulled myself back to my feet and peered around my cover to see the Ghantri picking itself up off the marble floor, a smoking ruin where its left shoulder cannon once was. That was our queue.

Kekkin slipped from his cover and advanced nimbly towards the reeling Heavy, but I simply envisioned my destination and translated.

I appeared above the enemy, dropping deftly onto its broad shoulders, lurzak blade in hand. With one hand gripping the edge of an armoured plate, I stabbed down repeatedly between the gaps. A metallic roar bellowed from the Ghantri as it swivelled about trying to throw me loose. Kekkin slipped in, while it focused on me, and started to slice into the backs of its knee actuators.

I ducked a reaching gauntlet the size of my torso, then let myself slide down its back a metre. I caught another armoured plate edge and continued my assault. I heard a meaty crunch and saw Kekkin sliding across the marble landing, blade skittering away on the smooth ground. It appeared to ignore me and started to turn towards Kekkin as he struggled to get to his feet. Another flash of hardlight smashed into the side of the Ghantri’s helmet, causing the Heavy to recoil. I let go and landed on my feet, striking a solid blow to the left knee. I saw it snap the leg back to kick me, as it must have done to Kekkin, but I translated around to face it.

Before it worked out where I had gone, I lashed out with a lunge towards the right leg, driving my blade into the turret above its thigh. The electrical burst from the blade caused the turret to explode. I translated again, behind it once more. Another sniper round struck the helmet, eliciting a roar of frustration.

“Kekkin!” I called, not taking my eyes off the Ghantri.

He was on his side, having given up trying to stand. He was moving, although clearly in pain, trying to drag himself towards a toppled marble pillar. I ducked under a swinging blow from the Ghantri as it pivoted about, rolling clear of its grasp. A mechanical whirr warned me I was within the firing arc of the last turret, so I translated over to Kekkin. I quickly grabbed him under the armpits and hauled as hard as I was able. He called out in pain as I dragged him to cover, shots from the Ghantri landing all around me. When I sure Kekkin was in cover, I translated over the Ghantri again, dropping to stand on its shoulders. Balancing precariously, I could see the side of the Heavy’s helmet was open, cracked by two blasts from Harris’ rifle. I gripped the mangled cannon on its shoulder and swung down across its chest, thrusting my blade into the gap offered by the damaged helmet. I struck meat, falling to the ground as the blade was torn from my grasp.

I stumbled back, looking up at the Heavy as it gurgled and gushed blood from the side of its head. Hardlight started to strike it again from multiple angles, all trying to hit the wound. A few managed to score it, wounding the creature further. I caught sight of Kekkin’s lurzak in the corner of my eye and dashed over to it. I scooped it up, jumped and translated at the same time. I appeared above the Heavy once more, dropping to its back as it bucked and swayed. The firing stopped, so I climbed up and over, holding the lurzak in my left hand. I thrust the blade deep into the opening, pulled it out and thrust again.

The roaring stopped and the Heavy went motionless. As if a puppet with its strings cut, the Ghantri collapsed to the ground, sending me tumbling head over heels. I lay there for a few moments, catching my breath.

9.

Renthal was the first to reach me. I waved my hand as I heard them running over, in case they thought I was dead. Renthal kneeled, checking me for wounds.

“I’m okay, just the wind knocked out of me. Kekkin?” I said as he helped me sit.

“Geko and Cohen are with him.”

I sat up and looked around. The Ghantri lay ten metres away, greyish blood still oozing from the head wound. I could see my lurzak sticking from the hole.

“Help me up,” I said, and with Renthal’s assistance stood. I hobbled over to Kekkin’s cover, where Alexander was tending to him. He was conscious, nodding to me in thanks as Alexander struggled to remove an armoured segment. Geko stood over them, watching.

“Warrior’s wing is clipped,” said the Garz’a, wincing in pain.

“Broken arm,” said Alex, “We’ll need to set it.”

“No need, we have a nanite injector for bone mending,” I said.

“Here,” said Kekkin, pulling a pouch from a utility hook.

“Where’s Harris and Triptych?” I asked.

Renthal started to look around. When we couldn’t see them immediately, we started to call their names. Harris answered, calling us to his location. When we reached him, he was kneeling over the broken form of Triptych. Several large pieces of a wall had half buried him and Harris was struggling to remove them.

“What happened?” I said, climbing down into the rubble to help.

“Didn’t get away from the cannons fast enough,” said Harris, “Saw him go down and here he is.”

“Is he alive?”

“No.”

I heard Renthal swear, then he too joined us. When we had him free of the debris, we could see the extent of the damage. His helmet was shattered, and the whole left side of his body was traumatised. I took his rifle, having lost mine at the university, and shared the cells with the others. Renthal unhooked the reactor from Triptych’s suit, slinging it to his back and hooking it onto his webbing. Harris pointed out the damaged drone controls on the left arm.

It was macabre, but with our resources stretched thin, we needed all the gear we could salvage. With reverence, we carefully removed the few armoured segments that were undamaged and then retrieved the rest of Triptych’s tools.

We broke the news to the others, Kekkin nodding solemnly while Geko swore under his breath.

“It was worth it, right?” asked Alexander.

“I hope so,” I said, “Many people have died to get us this far.”

“One more objective achieved,” said Kekkin, “Next one is before us. Warriors know the risks, know what is at stake.”

I nodded to him. “Time to check in with Rego.”

I pulled out the radio I had taken from the university and keyed in the frequency of the others. Rego answered immediately.

“We’ve taken casualties – about twenty civilians were gunned down during the initial assault and we lost two soldiers during the counter attack. We’ve fought off the raiders, but some got away. No telling how far away the main body of the marauders is. We lost drone functions about ten minutes ago, any chance Triptych can get to a higher altitude? Maybe the space elevator is causing interference or…”

“Rego, Triptych didn’t make it. His drone rig was damaged when he took a blast from the Heavy.”

“Damn…” he was silent for a few moments before continuing, “We went through tech training together.”

“I’m sorry. How is the morale of the others?”

“It’s…it’s okay. I think. A lot of crying…”

I waited for a few moments, giving him time to grieve. “We need to keep moving. It’s a straight march to here, clear of enemy.”

“Right. I, ah…”

“Rego. Get them moving. Care about the living first.”

“Roger. We’ll see you soon.”

I hooked the radio onto a utility loop on my armour and approached the giant elevator doors. I looked over at the controls, a simple panel embedded into the wall of the spire. It looked just like every other mass transit elevator control panel the galaxy over. A quick check told me that the elevator car was at the other end of the shaft, so I keyed in the commands to bring it down. I was half expecting the thing to bleep an alarm at me, telling me it was locked, but the Ghantri had no need of locks when the entrance is guarded by a Heavy, I supposed. A countdown started, telling me we had just over an hour to wait for the car to arrive.

We took the time to rest a little, checking over what little gear we had left. A few of us replaced damaged armour plates on our M4 MAELs and swapped out battery cells to charge.

I was dozing, leaning against a collapsed wall when Harris called out to us.

“I see them.”

We got to our feet and waited as the refugees started to arrive. We tried to smile at them, but even I could tell it was put on. Only a few more objectives to go, I told myself. The civilians stared, wide-eyed, at the Heavy’s corpse and I berated myself silently for not thinking to move it out of sight.

I checked on Kekkin, who was sitting by himself quietly while the procession entered the plaza. I’d had broken bones before, using the same nanites to mend them, and I knew they took a lot out of your system.

“You going to be okay?” I asked.

He nodded, not opening his eyes.

“Take a stim if you need the boost, those nanites can make you feel lethargic.”

“Warrior will medicate when the elevator arrives. Need rest for now.”

“Good enough for me. You know your own body better than I.”

I found Rego with Renthal, Harris, and Geko. They were all talking with their heads bowed, probably remembering Triptych, so I left them alone and went to see what I could do by myself. I found Alexander and Merade, and asked them about the civilians.

“They’re holding it together,” said Merade, giving me a tired smile, “Seeing this spire so close has given them hope that you might actually get us to safety. It’s given me hope.”

“This will take several hours to get everyone up to the docking sphere,” I said, “So we’re not out of danger yet. The car can only carry a few hundred people at a time, so I’m sending up half of the soldiers and most of Naga Team with the first car. I’ll go with them and secure a safe place to gather the civilians. With those raiders getting away, they could be leading a larger force here right now.”

“What do you want us to do?” she said.

“Be ready to move, but also out of the plaza – it’s too open.”

“A lot of people are tired.”

“I know, but we can’t have them getting too comfortable. We need to be able to defend against an attack at a moment’s notice.”

“Can’t we send scouts?” said Alexander.

“We can, but we can’t afford to reduce our forces here too much. If that car comes down loaded with Ghantri, we’ll need all the soldiers we can spare to fight them. We’ll need two lines of defence – one facing the outer plaza in case the raiders attack, the other facing the elevator. Once the first car goes up, we shouldn’t need to worry about attacks from that direction, but I’m still worried about those raiders.”

“I can organise the troops to dig in, or at least use some of this rubble to form defences. Where can the refugees go?”

I turned to Merade. “There are several, mostly intact buildings on the sunward side of the plaza, the Heavy didn’t fire off in that direction. Take ten soldiers with you to secure the buildings, then move them into there.”

I waved over a pair of older soldiers, gave them orders to gather the other eight and told them to do as Merade asked. Alexander, I charged with building the defences, and I roped Geko and Renthal in to help. Harris, I got him doing what he does best – finding a high perch to snipe from and provide some measure of overwatch for our meagre defences.

After half an hour, refugees were still milling about in the plaza. This is taking too long, I thought. I sought out Merade again, asking her if there were any problems.

“They don’t want to go inside,” she said, indicating the throngs still outside in the plaza, “they think if they wait out here, they’ll get the first seat on the elevator.”

“Don’t they know they’re in danger?”

“They’ve been in danger for a long time. I think they’re sick of huddling in the shadows.”

“If we’re attacked, many will die.”

“I’m trying. I just don’t know how to convince them to get inside.”

“Maybe if we had a system for determining who rides in which car, they’ll be more willing to step aside?”

“Maybe, what did you have in mind?”

“Alphabetical order?”

“Families will be separated. They won’t agree to that.”

“Based on only the eldest family member’s name, then.”

“I’ll talk it over with the other community leaders, find something that works.”

I had matched my overlay to the elevator controls, so I knew when the countdown was running out. I called out to Naga Team and joined the defence line facing the giant doors. There were still civilians in the plaza, but when they say the soldiers moving into action, they knew something was up and they began to scatter and file into the buildings.

I watched the timer fall into single digits, then with a musical chime, a light above the door lit up.

“Hold your fire!” I called, as everyone on the line braced themselves.

A hydraulic hiss accompanied the doors opening, slowly peeling back to reveal the darkened interior of the elevator car. A single Jaani wandered into the light, shielding its eyes from the glare.

“Fire!” I called, making a chopping motion with my hand.

I almost felt sorry for the small rodent-like creature. Hundreds of hardlight bullets tore the alien to a pulp and the soldiers jeered at the hapless creature’s plight. It was an easy win.

Extreme, but these people needed it.

10.

The elevator platform was wide and deep, built to transport large amounts of supplies at once, or vehicles. We cleaned off the remains of the Jaani and started to load the first passengers into the car. With half of our remaining soldiers riding, just over a hundred men and women, we managed to fit another six hundred refugees with us.

I did the maths. With over four thousand people needing to evacuate, it would take us six round trips to get everyone to the docking sphere. It would take us nine hours to fully assemble at our destination.

The control panel for the car platform dutifully displayed a timer for the journey, as we ascended into space. The higher we rose, the less the centrifugal force of the station’s spin pushed into us. After ten minutes of climbing, when the simulated gravity had dropped to barely half a gee, the car’s stabilisers kicked in and gravity returned to normal. Many refugees cried out in alarm. It was easy to forget that many of them had never felt real gravity, artificial or otherwise. It almost made me smile. The car rumbled gently as we passed the switch, rotating to match the receiving compartment’s plane of reference.

With less than a minute left before we reached the top, I assembled the soldiers with Naga Team. When the doors opened, they were to fan out into the receiving compartment and engage any hostiles immediately. The plan was to draw fire away from the civilians who would be huddling in the rear of the car.

I checked the charge on Triptych’s rifle and rolled my head across my shoulders as I stretched, watching the countdown fall. With a chime, we reached the top and the doors languorously began to open. When the space between the doors allowed, the first of Naga Team slipped in and I followed behind.

The compartment was a large loading dock for the elevator. It split into three levels – the main floor, and two mezzanines – and was crawling with Ghantri. I was prepared for this, though, and activated a scrambler that Rego had constructed for me. We caught them off guard. They were curious as to what was arriving, but they had not thought that an enemy would get past their hulking sentinel below. Renthal and Geko took point, gunning down three Ghantri approaching the doors. I broke right with Harris and opened up on a pair rising from a console.

I quickly took in the surroundings, identifying enemy placements, and counted roughly thirty Ghantri on the first two levels. I had no idea how many were on the upper mezzanine.

Recovering quickly, the surviving aliens dove into our ranks with whatever weapons they could improvise. Many were unarmed, tearing fixtures from the bulkheads or laying into us with their fists and cybernetic claws. We were too many, even for them, and quickly cut down those we could see. I ordered Naga Team to storm the upper levels with two squads of soldiers, ordering the rest to secure the lower sections and tend to our wounded.

After a brief combat, Kekkin reported the upper mezzanine was ours and the soldiers cheered in victory. We had lost seven soldiers, with twice as many wounded, but the survivors knew that this fight would be hard. Going in blind always is.

We had work to do. I ordered the troops to secure the access hatches, welding shut those that did not lead into the main thoroughfare. There was a large vehicle access hatch that I knew would lead into the hangar area, where supplies and passengers could be offloaded from visiting vessels. At least, that’s where they would if the station was functional.

When I was happy that the loading dock was secure, I hooked the scrambler up to a power port. Next, Rego activated the hardline communications node for the car, giving us a line to the surface.

We had no idea how many Ghantri were in this sphere, but for now, we had the corner to ourselves. The aim was to maintain this position for as long as possible, while we brought the civilians up. It was less than ideal, as we had originally planned to keep most of the refugees down on the surface until we had secured a vessel, but with the threat of the raiders we needed to move them as soon as possible. We were essentially between a rock and a hard place.

While I oversaw the evacuation on the surface, I left it up to Kekkin and Naga Team to scout out the route to the hangars and find us a viable vessel to hijack. It was a dangerous task, but one which Naga Team was uniquely suited.

I shook the squad’s hands, wished them good luck, then rode in the elevator car to the bottom once more.

With Cohen in charge, the defences in the plaza were coming along nicely. The next car load of refugees went up, and I was surprised to find that Alex had found volunteers from the refugees to act as scouts. With mother Cohen’s help, he had found people willing to march out a kilometre and keep an eye out for enemy movements. In exchange, the families of the volunteers would be on the next car. It was smart and gave us an eye on the terrain that we sorely needed.

The third elevator load of evacuees had left, with the next car due to arrive in ten minutes, when the raiders were spotted. A scout came running into the plaza, breathless and ragged from running. They spoke briefly with Alexander before the pair came over to me.

“This scout says they saw many marauders anti-spinward of our position,” reported Alex.

“How many did you see?” I asked.

The man was still trying to catch his breath, his words coming out in broken sentences. “Hundreds. Thousands. At least a thousand. Probably more. Headed this way.”

“How far?”

“A couple of hours at least. I ran as soon as I saw them. Just like you said, Alex.”

He patted him and the back. “You did well.”

“You did very well. Has your family gone up yet?” I asked.

“Yessir.”

“Make sure this man gets on the next lift,” I said, waving a soldier over, “And get him something to drink.”

“What do you think?” said Alexander when the man had gone.

“I think we’re in trouble. They had to have known where we were headed once those raiders got away.”

“Can we put more people on the car?”

“Maybe,” I said, staring up at the space elevator, “Not enough to make a difference, though. We are going to have to delay them somehow.”

“How?”

I looked around at the soldiers, resting against the makeshift barricades erected from debris. I surveyed the plaza, inspecting some of the buildings and avenues leading away.

“We’re going to need more volunteers,” I said, “Squads of hit and run teams to harry them. I’ll send more soldiers down with the next car, but I’m hesitant to deplete our force up there. If they’re attacked, they might not have enough to defend the loading bay.”

“I’ll get those volunteer squads.”

I talked to Merade again, asking her to organise a labour team to shift debris. I figured if I can block off most of the access points to the plaza, I can funnel their numbers through to a kill zone for our troops. As people got busy around me, I found that I had little to do once the plans were put into action.

A despair started to grow within me. I had let myself hope that I could pull this off, but there was little chance we would be able to hold off that many raiders for the extra few hours we needed to evacuate the refugees. If the last group of raiders was anything to go by, the enemy had upgraded their arsenal somewhat. I cursed myself for not thinking of destroying the armoury that Osiris has accumulated within the university. My lack of foresight meant that my enemy now had energy weapons they could use against us, and not just the one-in-ten that had them before.

An hour later, more scouts arrived with news, more sightings of the enemy force moving towards us. With the extra reports came updated numbers – the most harrowing count put their force at close to two thousand strong. I had to assume this was the force arrayed against us, and plan accordingly. The only thing was, I could think of nothing that could stop a force of that size, given the numbers I had.

The plaza was cleared of debris, giving a hundred metre kill zone leading to our fortifications, but if the enemy was smart, they would not charge our position. I racked my brain, trying to think of a plan to keep my people alive, wondering how many refugees I could cram into the next car.

When it arrived, the elevator brought another forty troops – the most Kekkin could spare. It also carried Harris and Renthal, who I was glad to see. I showed them around my preparations, silently hoping they would offer some brilliant trick or strategy to hold off the enemy force. I was crushed when they told me that I had done a great job and had nothing to add.

The last of the scouts returned, along with the hit and run squads. They had taken casualties and hastily reported the enemy vanguard was minutes behind them. Adrenaline started to pump through my blood and my heart began to thud in my chest.

By Merade’s last count, we still had over a thousand refugees left to evacuate, and the next elevator wasn’t due to arrive for thirty minutes when the first of the raiders attacked. They must have been chasing after the hit and run troops, separated from the main force. Forty men, wild with bloodlust, burst into the plaza and started firing blindly at our position. I needed no command to set our troops to action – they opened fire immediately.

Moments later, another wave appeared, more cautious than the first. The battle was joined in earnest.

11.

When soldiers have fought for long enough, they can undergo a numbing of the senses. The terror of combat no longer affects them. Instead, they enter into a fugue of disconnection, indifferent to their surroundings. This battle fatigue leads to a reduction in fighting efficiency, as they lose the ability to prioritise and lose reaction time. I was no stranger to it. I knew the men and women with me were capable of suffering from this debilitating condition. If they weren’t already, they soon would be.

I’d pushed them hard getting them this far. Another prolonged battle was the last thing they needed, but a soldier doesn’t always get to choose the time and place of their next fight.

We’d bloodied the enemy, not a full day previously, but they were eager to reclaim that blood, tenfold.

Two hundred enemy combatants charged our lines, cut down before they even got half way. While we fought off the charge, the enemy used that time to find cover near the outer edge of the plaza. We’d cleared what we could from the area, but larger debris was still providing a measure of defence. The line held.

After ten minutes of fighting, another problem began to surface – our troops were not equipped for a long firefight. We had battery cells, enough for four clips each, but after reloading a second clip I realised that it would not last. All the enemy commander would need to do was draw our fire for long enough and then he could just charge us again.

The only good thing I could make out of all this was that the refugees had remained out of sight and were not drawing fire.

“How am I going to get the next car filled?” I mused to myself as I sighted down at an enemy combatant.

“Sorry, sir?” said a nearby soldier.

“Just thinking out loud. Send word to Corporal Renthal to reinforce the left flank – the enemy is shifting troops along that rooftop.”

The soldier dashed off to carry word and I saw that the enemy had started to change tactics. While the front lines of the enemy were halted at the entrance to the plaza, they had sent men around to find other ways into the plaza. Eventually, they had realised they were blocked and started to climb. Hostiles started to appear on the upper ruins and rooftops, firing down on us.

We were taking casualties, men and women I could not afford to lose.

I checked the countdown on the elevator – twelve minutes. An eternity. There was no way we could hold out that long. Even if we could, there was no way we’d be able to load a car while under fire. We were going to be slaughtered.

“Cease firing!” I yelled. I had to call it out several times until the call was carried along the line. My troops were defiant, but hope had gone from their faces as they realised the battle was hopeless.

As the enemy realised what we had done, they too stopped firing. The enemy commander knew they had us dead to rights.

“Throw down your weapons!” came a call from the enemy’s side. The voice echoed across the plaza. I tossed my rifle down, indicating for those nearest me to follow suit. My soldiers disarmed, laying their weapons on the ground or the nearest cover.

“Stand out from your walls!”

I stepped around the marble block I was using for cover and took a few steps out into the open. When those nearest me made to follow I held my hand back. They hesitated.

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t execute us on the spot?” I called back.

A man stepped up from the rubble on the far side, I could just make out a wry grin on his face. As he approached, I could see horrible burn scars all along the side of this head and he walked with a casual air – as if strolling down a lane.

“You must be the Protectorate coward that ran from the university,” he said, “Want to know how many of your men I tortured to get that information?”

“I want to know who you are,” I said.

He threw back his head and laughed. Many of his men joined in as he turned to them, arms raised as if on a stage. In a way, he was.

“I am your saviour! I am the one who will show you the way!”

“What way?”

“The way of the Ghantri! The way of strength!”

“Is this where you give me your sales pitch? Convert or die?”

“Oh! You’ve heard it?” he said, mockingly.

“Is there another way?”

“Ha, ha!” he laughed again, “Another way?”

“You’ve won your war, you’ve beaten us. Let us leave.”

“Leave? But where will you go? Where can you go that the Ghantri cannot follow?”

“Away from this station. Another star system.”

“There’s the Protectorate cowardice in action. Always running from their fights. One day, there will be nowhere left to run, no star that the Ghantri cannot reach. What will you do then?”

“You have that much faith in the Ghantri?”

“Why not? They beat you. We beat you, too. When they come and take us with them, a thousand worlds will be ours for the taking. Your worlds will burn, your people will die, or they will join us!”

“You have no way to be sure of that outcome. You have no idea how many forces there are in the next star system, let alone the rest of the Network. Do you really think that the Ghantri can terrorise another star system? Surely you ca see the Ghantri can’t win in the long run? Look how long it took them to break the blockade here!”

He laughed again, harder than before. Most the enemy soldiers laughed with him. “It was never a blockade! It was a cage for the Protectorate, you fool! They stayed here, never suspecting that the great Ghantri had already slipped the chains and claimed the stars! All the while, the cowardly Protectorate were complacently happy thinking they had our masters contained!”

A coldness began to trickle through my veins. A realisation that this man had just told me something vital. The Protectorate needed to learn this. Whatever the cost, I vowed, they must know.

“Enough talking! Time to decide!” said the man, performing a flourish, “Convert. Or die.”

I opened my mouth, not sure what to say, when suddenly a brilliant light split the plaza from the sky above. A baleful orange fire lanced down from the upper atmosphere and as my senses recovered, I could hear a familiar sound accompanying the searing light. The wail of a Class 2 beamer drowned out all other sounds as the energy beam swept across the enemy ranks, vaporising hundreds within seconds. I followed the beam up, shielding the glare with my hand. In the sky, hundreds of metres above, the Dreaming of Atmosphere hovered just outside of the upper reaches of the station’s air layer.

With a defiant roar, I drew my PX-2 and fired at the enemy commander, who stood dumbfounded at the carnage around him. The soldiers behind me cheered as they jubilantly reclaimed their fallen weapons and opened up on the enemy.

My first shot spun the commander around and the next three caused bursts of blood to spray from his body. He went down under a hail of gunfire. Emboldened by the miraculous strike from above, I charged at the enemy position. The soldiers behind me rose, joined my charge, and took the fight to our reeling foe.

The beamer had cut directly through the main body of the raiders, obliterating most of them in a handful of seconds. Unable to comprehend the sheer level of devastation that had befallen them, the rest were gunned down as they stumbled about in shock.

In minutes, what before had looked like a tragic defeat, was a resounding victory. A handful of raiders managed to scatter to the winds. We let them. There were no more raiders close enough to stop us now.

When the battle was won, I looked to the heavens for my ship, but it had vanished from sight. I threw it a salute anyway, in case they were looking.

Ormund, I texted, did you see the Dreaming of Atmosphere?

We just picked her up on our sensors. She’s been running dark since leaving the Astral Spider. I never knew she was so close!

Can you track it?

No, they activated the cloak system again. Good thing, too. A pair of Ghantri warships are moving to investigate.

If you manage to get comms back with them, give Max my thanks. She just saved all our lives.

I will. Let me know when you secure a ship, I’ll have coordinates of a supply point for you by then.

Thanks. Will do.

I was grinning like a madman when Renthal and Harris met up with me, Alexander in tow. He was laughing merrily.

“Did you see that!” he said.

“I think half the station saw that,” said Harris, sharing my grin.

“What a time for your ship to arrive,” said Renthal.

“Maxine does have a thing for dramatic entrances, I’ll give her that.”

“We all owe her our lives. Tell her Naga Team owes her,” said Renthal, clasping my arm.

“You can tell her yourself when we get off this cursed station.”

“Who’s Maxine?” asked Alexander.

I smiled at him. “A very special woman, my friend. I have a feeling your mother and her are going to be very good friends.”

12.

Without aplomb or ceremony, I watched the doors close during the last elevator ride. Spirits were high, we all knew we had beaten a great obstacle, one that none of us thought we would make it past. For the second time in as many days, against the odds, we had cheated death.

Comrades hugged. Civilians lined up to shake a soldier’s hand or embrace them. There were tears of gratitude. It was hard not to share in the emotions prevalent in the last of the evacuees.

True to Ormund’s word, coordinates of several viable candidates for supply raids were downloaded to my overlay. Adding to our good fortune, Tac reported a measure of success in his own struggle.

“I have unlocked several layers of information within the Sectis’ neuro-module,” he said.

“Anything actionable?” I asked.

“Indeed. Command override codes for Ghantri vessels.”

I shook my head. “They would have been changed out by now. They would know that the Sectis was dead, or captured.”

“I do not believe it matters.”

“How do you mean?”

The elevator groaned as it climbed ever higher, passing the gravity switch point.

“A flaw. The Ghantri have no failsafe built into their architecture. Several times I had broken through a layer of defence in this module and not once had I encountered any countermeasures. No auto-erase features, not retaliatory programs, no data spikes. They can’t conceive of a scenario where they would lose a Sectis to enemy forces.”

“What are you saying?”

Harris, listening to the conversation, spoke up. “He means that they didn’t think you could capture one.”

“We didn’t,” I said.

“Right. But they also didn’t think you could pull that implant out of a dead Sectis and hack into it, either. They’re intelligent, but lack real experience with espionage and technology.”

“You heard what that enemy commander said?”

“About the subterfuge of the blockade? Yeah. Makes you wonder what they had been planning.”

“I think they had access to the Jump Drives left behind by the Destroyer hulks long ago, but lacked the technological prowess to unlock them. They wanted the Protectorate to keep their distance long enough for the Ghantri, or the Jaani, to decipher it and install them on their fleet.”

“That is a plausible scenario,” said Tac, “It may also explain the motivation behind the Betrayal. They lacked the sophistication to extract the knowledge they needed to analyse the Drives without giving away what they had. They also lacked the subtle demeanour and careful plotting to steal that knowledge through espionage.”

“So they took it,” I said, nodding, “I bet they found a science facility and the Jaani learned a few techniques that they told the Sectis about.”

“There was a research team deployed to Sho’da Nar during the Betrayal,” said Harris, “It was one of the first places to fall to the Ghantri.”

I blew the air out of my lungs. “I suppose it’s just academic at this point. The Ghantri have what they wanted, and now the Protectorate is pulling out.”

“I shall continue to work on the neuro-module,” said Tac, “Sending the command codes to you now, Seth.”

“I have an idea how to use these, too,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

I sat back and relaxed for the rest of the ride, working out in my head how we would proceed. In no time at all, the elevator reached the docking sphere, and the last of the evacuees offloaded to the station hub. I met up with Kekkin, who reported they had sighted only a handful of Jaani, but a dozen Ghantri patrolling the corridors deeper within the sphere. From his observations, he believed that there were at least two factions of Ghantri operating within the facility – although they refrained from battling each other.

“One faction stays in upper sections of dock,” he explained, “They send no patrols, don’t care about rest of facility. Other looks like the kak we fought here. More weapons. Less Jaani. They hold the hangars.”

“They’ve probably joined forces,” I said, “This level of organisation usually means they’re part of a warband. Did you get any eyes on their main staging areas?”

“Rego tapped into station security. AI was asleep, human woke it up. Works for us now. Tracking calak movements easy. Avoided most patrols so far.”

“Can we get these people through the main concourse to the hangar?”

“Will need distraction, something to draw calak from hangar. Move refugees in one action.”

“Can you suggest anything?”

He waved Renthal and Harris over and explained what we needed.

“You guys remember that run through asteroid 198B in Votus System?” said Renthal.

“Want to create distraction, not station destruction,” chided Kekkin.

“What about that job on Corus Cluster, Argessi?” said Harris.

“You guys have done ops on the Corus Cluster?” I said, surprised.

“Too subtle,” said Kekkin, shaking his head, “Need to draw attention. Warrior remembers the raid on Fen-Harn Corporate office, Acheras Orbital.”

Renthal nodded his head vigorously, Harris was grinning.

“What does that mean?” I said, looking between the trio.

“Warriors will create distraction, naga-zak just say when.”

“I’ll get Geko to round us up some copper wire,” said Harris, high-fiving Renthal as he walked away.

“I’ll get Rego to show me the power distribution for the upper levels,” said Renthal, grinning from ear to ear.

“What did I just sign up for?” I said.

“Does naga-zak believe in ghosts?” said Kekkin.

“No…what?”

He just laughed and shook his head again.

“Did you at least identify a suitable ship in the hangar?”

“Warriors found perfect ship. Cruiser taking up most of hangar. AI says every month new Cruiser docks and changes out Ghantri warbands down below. Will be cramped, but warrior remembers Cruiser has big cargo hold. Checked. Primacy core design, few Ghantri additions. Didn’t get too close, full of calak. Think local soldiers can hijack it?”

It was my turn to smile. “Won’t need to. My father once told me that to survive in the frontier, you sometimes got to think like a pirate.”

“What does that mean?”

“I aim to misbehave.”

I too could play the mysterious one, and I left Kekkin confused and rubbing his beak with his good hand. I found Rego and asked him about enemy patrol routes. He just smiled and told me he could do one better. An icon began to flash on my overlay, one I’d not seen for a long while – we had a local network active!

“I’m connecting now. Did the AI set this up?”

He nodded. “It made an app to track the Ghantri movements. It should appear in a moment, along with a few advertisements. The damn thing still thinks it’s operational.”

True to his word, the usual assortment of tourist adverts bombarded my overlay, the kind you get when you first arrive at a new station or planet. I mentally flicked them aside, finding the new app amongst them. Once installed, I opened it and hundreds of opaque orange dots began to appear in my vision.

“These dots are Ghantri?” I asked.

“They’ll turn red when you get close and a vector will appear when it looks like they’ll cross your path.”

“Handy.”

“We’ve been busy up here. Not everyone gets a nice safe, desperate battle for survival, you know?”

“Lucky us. Does the network have text services?”

It sure does, LT, came a text from Rego as he smiled at me smugly, we’ve also got command of all sphere communication lines. Say the word and the AI can block out all signals from the station.

“Keep in touch, let me know when the rest of Naga Team is ready for that distraction. Whatever it is.”

He flipped me a quick salute as I headed for the loading dock exit. Once out in the docking sphere proper, I jogged along the main access corridor towards the hangar. I slowed as I neared the giant compartment, checking the locations of Ghantri within. I counted nine sentries, mostly on upper levels. We would need to deal with them if the distraction didn’t draw them away from their posts. For now, I could avoid them if I was careful.

I opened the hatch and stepped onto a large platform that ran the length of the hangar complex. The hangar was massive, easily able to accommodate several commercial Transports at once. Or one giant Cruiser. The hangar stretched for over two kilometres in a cylindrically shaped tube just over one kilometre in diameter. Several platforms framed a central cavity for receiving ships, with gantries arching over the expanse. One end of the hangar was open to naked space, the atmosphere inside kept in place by a shimmering atmo shield. These shields used gravity waves to hold life-sustaining air in place, a barrier against the vacuum.

The Cruiser was nearly a kilometre and a half long. Its cross section was a tapered diamond – broad across the top, elongating and widening down its length. A stalwart, solid design that I was familiar with – a Harakiwan modular Danghar Class ship. The Danghar was a Primacy Fleet favourite. They were easily outfitted for multirole missions, cheap to run, and reliable. Eridanians used to brag that they had the fastest fleets in the Network, but the Harawikans boasted that they could build a dozen of these in the time it took Eridanian shipyards to produce five ships of similar displacement. This was great news. I’d served on a Danghar during my first few years as a Star Marine.

I realised I was wasting time gawking at the ship, leaning against the rail. I noted that there were no orange dots within the ship, and asked Rego about it.

The AI can’t penetrate the hull. It’s not connected to the station’s security grid.

It wouldn’t matter, I decided. What I had planned would work regardless.

I approached the ship, moving carefully between cover. It took me a couple of minutes, but I eventually spotted the main hatch and accompanying gangway adjoining the ship to the platform. I crept along the walkway, careful not to look down. A slight breeze circulated from the hangar’s life support vents somewhere, giving the walkway a minor sway that I found unsettling.

At the ship’s hull, I looked around for a maintenance panel I knew would be near the hatch and used the tip of my lurzak to undo the screws securing it. When it was open I keyed a set of commands into a control panel within. After accessing some old files on my overlay memory, I recalled the correct sequence to open a network port in the Cruiser’s computer systems.

An authorisation AI interrogated me immediately. Holding my breath, I gave it the command codes that Tac had given me. After a few seconds, the AI accepted them and I let my breath out in relief.

Once ‘inside’ the ship’s local network, I used the command codes to connect to engineering. My overlay was augmented with a slew of engineering controls and displays, readouts and energy levels. It took me several minutes, but I eventually found the menus and commands that I needed. Before I had found them all, Rego notified me that Kekkin had reported success in preparing for his distraction.

Get a hold of the Cohens, I ordered, tell them to get the civilians ready to move.

I waited for five minutes, reviewed my command sequences and then breathed in deeply.

“Time to get this show on the road.”

I activated the commands and stepped back from the hatch, lurzak in hand.

My overlay showed the many readouts I was observing begin to flash alerts and issue warnings. I was watching the oxygen levels in all the compartments. They started to plummet as the air was vented from each section of the ship in turn.

I knew that as a safety feature, I could not vent every compartment in the ship, I had to leave at least two compartments with oxygen. So I chose the two main airlocks on either side of the ship – the one facing me and another that led to a drop half a kilometre down.

I also knew that the Ghantri could survive for up to ten minutes in a vacuum, so there was a good chance that some would make it to either of these hatches. After five minutes, a pop and the sound of venting air announced that the airlock was in use. I waited until my readouts told me the atmosphere inside the airlock had equalised, then opened outer ‘lock.

Three Ghantri were lying on the deck, gasping for air as they tried to recover. I stepped up to the first and drove my blade through his skull. The second tried to stand, kicking six spindly insectile, cybernetic legs out from under itself. I chopped through a limb raised in defence, delivering a backhand slice to its midriff that opened its abdomen to the air. It tried to stab at me feebly with two scythe-bladed appendages, but it was clearly weakened by its recent ordeal. I sidestepped and drove my point through its throat.

As it died flopping on the deck, I turned to the third. It had not risen from the deck, having expired before air had entered the airlock.

I waited another ten minutes, but no more Ghantri made it out.

Tell Kekkin to start the diversion.

In moments, the station power fluctuated wildly, the lights dimming and returning to full strength. A power coupler overhead exploded as the contacts overloaded, sending bright sparks raining down into the hangar below. I began to worry about the atmo shield, but it never wavered. Orange dots started to move around erratically and after another five minutes, the guards in the hangar left their posts.

Cut the station comms and get the civilians moving, I sent to Rego, time to leave this station.

13.

As if by divine providence, obstacles before us started to fall away. Like a choreographed dance, my plan moved along with alacrity and accuracy. I started to doubt our good fortune. How could things be going so well, after so much anguish and suffering before? But things had to go right for us eventually. Fate decided that now was our time.

The first of our soldiers entered the Cruiser, clearing each compartment in turn. With each new breach, I expected a Ghantri counter attack by a pocket of survivors, but we had caught them completely unprepared. As the evacuees filtered into the airlock, I had the soldiers tossing the carcases of the Ghantri out of the other one. Naga Team made it down to the hangar as the last of the civilians boarded the ship.

Harris and Renthal, grinning from ear to ear, were covered in grime and lubricants. The stalwart Garz’a, still nursing his tender arm, was picking patches of polycrete foam from around his head and chest.

“Do I want to know?” I asked, clasping their forearms in turn.

“We love our job,” said Renthal, “The sarge drew the short straw.”

“Warrior regrets being talked into democratic mission planning.”

I smiled at them. “Rego is checking out the bridge with Tac and Cohen. I’m going to check on Merade and make sure her people are secured, then I’ll join you.”

“Warriors will see naga-zak on the bridge.”

I gripped his shoulder and ushered them inside, sealed the outer ‘lock and entered the ship. I called up a deck plan I had pulled from the ship’s memory cores and mapped out a waypoint to the cargo hold. Merade had mustered the civilians there until we had more information regarding berthing arrangements. We also had to organise our remaining rations and ensure people had facilities to use. When I arrived, she had things well in hand. She had called for volunteers from the older civilians, ones who had experience with ships. Many of the younger generation also had used starships before, at least ridden in them on their way to the asteroid fields and other mining expeditions forced on them by their former Ghantri overlords.

I stood around watching for a few minutes before I realised that my input was not needed. I nodded to Merade and left, heading to the bridge.

The bridge of the Cruiser was a two-tiered compartment – an operations floor and a command mezzanine. Ordinarily, a Cruiser of this size would require a crew of over two hundred people, but a skeleton crew of fifty could operate most of the functions in a bind. We were in such a bind. Fortuitously, Rego and Tac had been working on a solution before I got there.

“Maintenance is not a priority,” said Rego, accessing various functions from an operations console, “so we won’t need to worry about most engineering functions. The problem is, we need people in the engineering spaces to monitor energy levels, reactor loads, balance propulsion catalysts and make sure the AI’s are handling things down there.”

“I’ll check in with mother,” said Alexander, “There should be people we can use from the civilian ranks with experience. Most of the older generation were brought to this system as part of a ship’s company.”

“Thanks,” I said, “See if you can round up anyone with capital ship experience, too. I want to start putting people through the various stations and see what roles they’re capable of filling. What’s the state of the ship? Anything we need to address before we get underway?”

“There is a fair bit of confusion with the bridge AI’s,” said Rego, highlighting a bank of alerts on his console, “Most of the functions on the bridge were handled manually and the AI Cores have not been purged in a long time.”

He referred to a process used to ensure smooth operation of artificial intelligence. By periodically flushing their memory, superfluous data and programming instabilities can be limited. If left long enough without proper data maintenance, AI Cores can build up unwanted personalities and behavioural quirks. Historically, this has been the most common cause of AI’s going rogue and bypassing their brakes and a memory purge is an easy way of ensuring this does not happen. Apparently, the Jaani did not attend basic AI maintenance classes.

“Okay, can we flush them after we pull away from the station? How long will they be down for if we do it?” I asked.

“Several hours, at least.”

“How coherent are the cores at the moment? Can we launch?”

Rego spread his hands out. “Don’t know for sure. I mean, the Ghantri obviously did, but they’re not the most safety conscious folk in the galaxy.”

“Can we do it or not?” I looked between Rego and Tac.

“I estimate a 7.34% chance that the AI Cores will instigate a catastrophic event, considering current rampancy levels,” said Tac, “Approximately.”

“Can you link with them? Talk them through it? At least monitor them for chaotic behaviour while we move out of the area?”

“I will need to be coupled to the primary sensor nexus. I should at least be able to warn you of impending doom.”

“Got an updated estimate on our chances of crashing and burning?” I said.

“2.92%.”

“Approximately?” said Rego, grinning wryly.

Tac inclined his head slightly. “Do it,” I said.

While I surveyed the upper mezzanine, Alex returned with several older men and women from the cargo hold – our ragtag bridge crew. They set to work immediately, accessing several consoles and switchboards about the operations deck. I sat down in the central command chair, the captain’s station, and rested for a while. I was getting anxious, we needed to launch as soon as possible. Kekkin assured me that the distraction would keep the Ghantri in the station occupied for at least forty-five minutes more, but if we couldn’t get the ship functional in that time we would need to get underway while fending off hostile attacks from the dock.

Seth, came Ormund’s text over the battlenet, the Dreaming is picking us up in ten minutes. Are you going to be underway soon?

Unsure. Getting our crew familiarised with the ship is taking a while, plus we have some issues with the AI’s on board.

We’ll have to disconnect the battlenet for a while once we leave our little nest here. Should take us about an hour to set up again once we’re onboard the Dreaming. If there’s nothing you need right now, I’d like to start packing up.

Sure. Good luck, Ormund. Give my love to Zoe.

Good luck, talk to you soon.

“LT!” called Rego down below, “Incoming communication request from the engineering spaces.”

“Put it through to the command chair up here,” I said. A light illuminated on the armrest, among a gamut of other indicators and controls. I pushed the button and a speaker near the headrest activated.

“This is engineering, sir,” said a gravelly old voice, “Merade told me to come check it out down here and see what I can see.”

“This is Seth, who am I speaking with?”

“Name’s Gannerson. I worked for a bulk freighter company just before the Betrayal. Worked on plenty of engines before. Been a while, and I ain’t never worked on military ships before, but I’m sure I can work this out.”

“What have you got for me?”

“Them Ghantri grubs are no good at tuning a Linus Drive. Too much output, not enough focus, if you get my drift? What we got to work with here is dirty, but should do the trick. I seen junkers with cleaner propulsion wakes, though.”

“Can you get the engines ignited?”

“Sure can, but there’s a good sized chunk of something that shouldn’t be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s like I said. There’s a big coil wrapped around a piece of machinery connected to the reactors that just doesn’t seem to do anything.”

“Any idea what it’s for?”

“Nope.”

“Will it interfere with the operation of any of the other systems?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I need more than that, Gannerson.”

“It’s hooked up to the Linus Drives but has a separate power conduit. Means it shouldn’t do anything unless we divert power from the helium-3 reactors. If we don’t kick it in, I don’t think it will do anything. No guarantees, though.”

“Thank you, anything else I need to know? Do you need anything?”

“I have a team of volunteers with engineering experience with me, but I could use a dozen extra hands with high-pressure hoses to clean this shit up.”

“Once we’re underway, you can hand pick as many assistants as you need.”

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for giving us this chance. I left behind a family in Eridani before the Ghantri buggers turned this frontier into a war zone. I hope to see them again someday.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure you get the chance, Gannerson. You just get me those drives operational.”

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll have them purring like a Golus swamp panther.”

After my talk with the grizzled engineer, I heard more good news from my bridge crew. They had elected a woman by the name of Martine Lenser to lead them, having had the most experience and knowledge. Martine was Harakiwan – I could detect faint traces of her accent when she spoke. She looked to be slightly younger than Maxine, but the past few decades of hardship had hardened what I could tell were once handsome features. She was stern of countenance, but days of despair, and now a glimmer of hope, had softened her appearance. Like the rest of us, she was worn out past exhaustion. It was survival instincts and determination that gave her strength now.

As luck would have it, two of the bridge staff had served on a Danghar Cruiser in the past, including Martine. At first, the inefficient AI’s that governed bridge operations hampered the team, but as soon as Tac had been installed in the sensor nexus he had taken over much of the operations himself.

“Stations three through eight should be operational,” reported Martine, calling up from the operations deck, “But we can’t switch configurations over without shutting them down completely and doing a full reboot. I recommend setting up what you need for now and just sticking to it.”

“What do we need? What options do we have with this vessel?” I asked.

“We’ll need at least three systems operators, a comms officer, and helmsmen. If you want someone on weapons…”

“I do.”

“You’re going to have to prioritise between point defences and anti-ship weaponry. Looks like only one or two hardlight cannons are operational, though.”

“We can do without a comms officer, I can fill that role with Tac’s aid. I want both weapons positions manned at all times.”

She sighed. “Okay, but you’ll need to keep an eye on the bigger picture.”

“Of course.”

“You ever captained a capital ship before, sir?”

“No. Mostly just personal ships and a Meridian Class Transport.”

“Consider a ship this size not as one giant machine with several operators, but as hundreds of machines inside one shell, with different operators.”

“Okay…”

“All trying to go in different directions at once.”

“Right.”

She made a ball with his fists, then spread them apart while making an explosion sound with her mouth.

“Oh. Okay.”

“You get it now?”

“I’m going to need to orchestrate everyone working together?”

“Yes, sir. I can slave one of the functions to your station, but you won’t get full operational access, you’ll get an overview and status readouts. I suggest letting someone else handle the communications, at least until you have a handle on getting everyone moving in unison.”

“Can we do with only two sys-ops? Make the third a weapons console?”

“You know how many systems those three are going to have to monitor and operate with a ship this large? With stable AIs, years of experience, and a whole galaxy of natural talent we just might be able to. I’m your most experienced here, and I haven’t touched something this complex in over twenty years. No, sir. We cannot do this with only two.”

I sighed. I really didn’t want to limit our combat capabilities, but it looked like I had no choice.

“Okay, maybe you should come up here and show me how to operate this command chair properly then.”

“I’ll be right up there, just as soon as we lock down these configs.”

She bent over the nearest station and talked through its function with one of the other crew. After a few minutes, she climbed the short stairwell in the rear of the compartment up to the command mezzanine.

“This glass table here?” she said, indicating the table behind the command station, “This is a DonCrest Model 89 navigation pane. If we can get this operational, it would make your job a hell of a lot easier.”

“How so?”

“You can plot waypoints on a system scale, up to three AU away, and then send it to the helm station and sys-op consoles. Anything Yansek can pick up…”

“Yansek?”

“One of your system operators – he’s on sensors – anything he tags can be referenced here and vice versa.” She gestured at a row of darkened consoles. “If you had an engineering officer, you can control energy fields, power distribution and damage control from this bank of consoles along this side of the mezzanine.”

“Ghantri never struck me as a species interested in controlling damage, only causing it.”

She chuckled, “You got that right, sir. These consoles were never operational, by the looks of it. If we get someone in central engineering control we can probably do most of those functions from there. We’ll just have to work out some communication protocols with them.”

“I’ve got a man named Gannerson in engineering. Seems to know what he is doing. I’ll make sure you two meet and have a talk.”

“Roger that. I gotta say, being up here, on a starship again? It’s like I’ve been sleeping for years and only just waking up. This might be a piece of shit junker, but it’s the best darn ship I’ve been on in decades. And it’s ours. Yours, I mean, sir. Sorry.”

“No, no. You’re right. We’re in this together. One community, one family.”

She leant over the rail and looked down into the operation deck. “One in, all in?” she said, smiling.

“Something like that.”

14.

“Retro thrusters, five percent,” I called out.

“Retro, five percent,” repeated the helmsman down below. The ship shuddered ever so slightly, as the hull received the pressure exerted by the forward manoeuvring thrusters. The bridge was busy, all our operational stations were manned and Naga Team stood behind me as we began our movements to get out of the docking sphere. Several other civilians stood about the various consoles, watching their operation and learning. I wanted watchkeepers ready to go as soon as things settled down.

I watched the readout given to me by one of the systems operators, showing the proximity of the gantries all around the ship as we slowly backed out of the hangar.

“Inertial stabilisers at maximum.” called one of the systems operators.

“Very good,” I said, as the vibration in the hull abated completely. All we could hear was the steady drone of the thrusters. “Retro to zero percent.”

My command was repeated again, and the retros cut out. I watched the velocity counter level out and kept watch on the proximity readings.

“Steer eleven degrees, starboard.”

“Eleven degrees, starboard.”

“Steady.”

“Zero degrees, sir.”

“Pitch down, ten degrees. Five percent retro.”

I had done fine manoeuvring with Crege, Max, and Fel in the past, but nothing as large as this Cruiser. If I messed this up, I could bring the whole gantry system down upon us and cause a hull breach, alert the Ghantri to our escape or some other unforeseen consequence. A single bead of sweat formed on my brow, running a long, itching trail down my face as I concentrated.

“Steady! Zero thrust!”

“Zero degrees, zero thrust!”

After ten minutes of high tension manoeuvring, the ship was finally free of the berthing and had a clear path directly out into open space. I fell back into the command chair in relief, blowing the air out of my lungs as I did. The bridge crew clapped gently, and Kekkin congratulated me from where he stood at my shoulder.

“Expertly done, naga-zak,” he said

“I think I need a coffee. Please tell me we have coffee.”

“Warrior will ask Merade for supplies, next time I see her.”

“Well, we’re not out of the woods, yet. Time to see if we can bullshit our way past the Ghantri ships out there,” I said, pointing to the view screen as we backed up through the atmo-shield.

“Power levels are holding,” came Gannerson’s report from engineering, “Engines are loud and unsightly, but they’re steady too. Had to shut down number three emission line, but one of my lads seems to think it’s an easy fix.”

“Thanks, Chief. Keep me posted.” Next, I called down to the operations deck. “Comms, connect me to the sensor nexus.”

“Line connected, sir!”

“Tac, how are those IFF codes you pulled from the Sectis neuro-module?”

I am unfamiliar with the structure of the codes, came a line of text on one of the readouts at my station, but the transponder accepted them. Ghantri codes are unlike Protectorate signals, but we should know soon enough if they recognise them.

“Any luck setting up a local network?”

That particular AI is rude and obnoxious. Not to mention thinks it’s in charge. I’ve had to initiate a full memory purge from that AI ahead of schedule since it’s a non-essential function. I couldn’t have an AI like that running unchecked in a network, I’m sorry.

“Thanks, let me know the moment it’s been rebuilt. Comms, prepare to activate IFF transponder!”

“Transponder on standby. Entering codes now.”

“Captain,” called a system operator, “Contacts coming in on sensors, assigning tags now!”

It took me a second to realise they were talking to me. “Let’s show them who we are, Comms. Activate transponder. Let me know the moment we are queried.”

“Transponder active. Queries coming in now.”

“Systems, weapons,” I called, “Stay sharp! Pipe up the moment you get energy spikes on those contacts.”

Martine started calling out to the console operators, getting them to share various data feeds with each other, especially the weapons operators. I turned behind me to check on Rego, who was trying to repair the holo-table.

“What’s the status of that navigation pane, Private?” I said.

“Think it’s just wear and tear, sir. Thing’s never been serviced since it was removed from whatever ship they pulled it from.”

We had found that the Cruiser was a salvaged ship, rather than rebuilt using stolen designs. Several key systems were not native to a Danghar Cruiser, but the modular nature of the Danghar meant it was able to work regardless. The Jaani who pieced it all together were hardly experts, however, and many of the consoles, AIs, and machinery fixtures simply did not work. It appeared as if they never had, either. There seemed to be a lot of guesswork done to get these ships operational.

Without that holo-table working, navigating the system was going to be a real pain in the arse. I was starting to see why this ship was left behind, instead of joining the rest of the Ghantri fleet on their crazy crusade into the Great Web to find their gods.

“Energy spike on contact two-two-delta!” called a sys-op.

“Weapons, start tracking that target!” I called.

“Target acquired! Tracking!”

“What’s two-two-delta doing?” I said, “Vectors, aspect, range?”

“Coming about on bearing red one-one-zero, north five-five. Range – nine hundred kilometres. Vector is closing, two kilometres a second.”

The comms officer yelped in surprise. “Sir! Incoming communications from contact two-two-delta!”

Kekkin and I shared a look, “Weapons! Do you have a firing solution?”

“Yessir!”

“Tell me, next time.”

“Sorry, sir!”

“What do you think, Sergeant?” I said to Kekkin.

“If we start shooting first, galab will know we are calak. Going too slow to start space battle.”

“If we let them take the first shot, though, the others will just think it’s a territorial dispute.”

“First shot might be last shot.”

I rubbed my chin. “We need to find out what weaponry that ship has.”

The Cruiser had a dozen anti-ship cannons, firing hardlight projectiles, but only a handful were operational. It also had a missile battery, but no missiles were left in the magazines. There were manufactories, but they too had been stripped of anything usable and their condition was doubtful at best. Regardless, I only had my point defences manned. The Class 1 weapons were AI controlled cyclic beamers, firing rapid pulses across the forward and aft arcs of the ship. If we were forced into a pitched battle, I had Tac’s reassurances that he could route gunnery controls to my chair, but this was less than ideal. Although the ship did pack a hell of a punch with the hardlight batteries, I knew that any hits to this ship could mean the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of civilians. No, I had to avoid combat at all costs.

“Systems!” I called, “I want optical imagery of that contact. Anyone familiar with Class 2 weapons?”

A few of the bridge staff raised their hands.

“If anyone with an idea about anti-ship weaponry gets a look at those images, I need to know what level of firepower this kak has,” I said.

People started to crowd around the three systems consoles, straining for a look at the images. I had my own display, flicking through the images as they were given to me.

“Looks like Korveli-Xue Lancer,” said Kekkin. Moments later, one of the bridge staff confirmed it.

“Definitely KX Lancer, sir!” they called, “Range is five hundred kilometres, but you don’t want to get hit with it. Will cut through the hull like a plasma torch.”

I swore. “Okay, helm! Swing us about, one zero five degrees to port. Zero retro.”

“Red one zero five! Zero thrust!”

I watched the heading marker as we swung about to face away from the oncoming threat. When we hit the right direction, I called down to Gannerson.

“Chief! We’re going to need full thrust. Everything you got. Ready for that?”

“No, but you’re going to do it anyway, right?”

“Sorry, Chief!”

“I’ll keep it together. I’ll have to re-open number three emission line, though. Just don’t go full burn in one hit, goose them gradually or we risk destabilising the Bose-Einstein condensate in the Linus chamber.”

“I’ll try and remember that, Chief. Helm! Fifteen percent main thrusters!”

“Fifteen percent, forward!”

I watched the velocity indicator steadily begin to climb, slowing the approach of contact two-two-delta. When we had reached fifteen percent, I called out to the helm once more.

“Fifty percent thrust!”

“Five zero thrust, sir!”

The ship started to vibrate again, the inertial stabilisers unable to compensate. After several moments, the g-forces of our acceleration started to push me back into my seat.

“All bridge staff! Get to a seat and strap in!” As people started to scramble to find seating, I keyed in the ship-wide public announcement system. “All personnel, get to a seat if you can find one, or sit down on the deck if you can’t and grab onto something. We’re about to experience significant g-forces. Captain out!”

I gave it several minutes more, giving the civilians below decks the chance to settle down.

“Helm! Seventy percent thrust!”

“Roger, seven zero thrust!”

The roar of the propulsion system echoed through the hull as we started to pull at least twelve gees of force. It felt like only two, the inertial stabilisers working overtime, but it was enough to push me hard into the back of my seat. We were starting to pull away from the contact, who corrected their vector to intercept us. After about twenty minutes, systems reported that they had increased acceleration and were once more gaining on us.

“Time to intercept – three hours twenty-two minutes, sir!”

“Helm! Eighty-five percent thrust!”

“Eight-five!”

Once more the g-forces started to climb, and once more we started to pull away from the vessel. After another fifteen minutes, though, the enemy ship accelerated again.

“Can’t have too much more in her,” I said, “That’s a Destroyer Class ship. No match for a Cruiser.”

“Time for full throttle?” said Kekkin, strapped into a dead console station behind me.

“Helm! Full burn! Give me all she’s got!”

“Roger, one-hundred percent thrust!”

The sound of the thrusters drowned out all other sounds, a great roaring that shook the hull as if an explosion was going off behind us. In a way, that’s exactly what was happening. I watched with baited breath, keeping an eye on the sensor data on the enemy ship. If it started to gain on us, we would have no choice but to engage in combat – an outcome that had far too many consequences for my liking.

The comms officer spoke up again. “Captain! Contact two-two-delta is hailing us again.”

“Can you see what they’re trying to say?”

“Putting through to your chair, sir!”

“Tac, can you translate it?”

The message references earlier failings, most probably the former crew, that saw this ship banished from the fleet. The captain of the enemy ship is confirming the status of this ship’s standing in the eyes of Ar’od Dar.

“He’s taunting us?”

It would appear so.

I checked the sensor readings again. The ship was still falling behind us.

“Captain!” called one of the systems operators, “Two-two-delta’s aspect is shifting. She’s turning away! Updating vectors now.”

Before any of us could celebrate, a violent shudder rippled throughout the ship. Following in its wake, a deathly silence as the main propulsion cut off completely. I hesitated only a second before contacting engineering.

15.

“Gannerson! What just happened!”

“Sorry, sir!” came an unfamiliar voice, “Gannerson is busy organising firefighting teams. We’ve lost all propulsion!”

“I can see that! What happened?”

“One of the emission lines ruptured, sir. The temperature differential started a plasma flash. The Chief has most of the crew here getting suited up to put out the blaze.”

“Tell Gannerson to pull everyone out! I’m going to vent oxygen from those spaces,” I keyed in Tac’s comms line, “Tac, get me the life support AI’s online.”

Waking them up now, Seth. They’re responding. What should I tell them?

“Can they detect the fire in engineering? Around fuel line number three?”

They are unsure exactly what a fire is. I shall attempt to educate them. Apologies, the life support AI is suffering from significant rampancy, I had flagged it for high priority purge as soon as we were able.

“Just get it to find that compartment fire.”

My comms panel lit up, engineering was online again. I hit the button.

“What the hell is going on?” said Gannerson, “We got a fire raging that could spread to adjacent compartments if we don’t get it out soon!”

“I understand, Chief. I’m trying to get…” I was cut off by the sound of an explosion on Gannerson’s end. I could hear the old engineer yelling at various people, calling for something to get shut down and fuel lines closed. Suddenly, the line went dead and the bridge went dark. Startled, several bridge staff cried out in alarm.

“Tac! What’s going on? Why am I losing power?”

#@//..eth, it appe&s tha-_he AI’s have decided to take matters^&w#$_ands. Should I ini%#e -_&62rge?

“I can’t understand, Tac. Your line is all jumbled. Say again!”

&^’s hav__(one rogue! I am att&#%ng countermeas&%$#s idea if it*_-3rk. I recommend fu__3purge immedia$#!

“Sir!” called the comms officer, “All internal comms lines have been severed!”

“All stations,” I called, “What is your status? Does anyone have power?”

“Systems console two is rebooting, sir!”

“Systems one is offline.”

“Systems three is online, but locked in external sensors.”

“Both weapons are offline,” said Martine, dashing between the two, “So is helm.”

“I need a runner to get down to engineering and find out what’s going on down there,” I said, “I need someone to go down to the cargo hold and find out from Merade if anyone is hurt and to tell them not to wander the ship. If we’ve got rogue AI’s we have no idea which ones are out of control. The next compartment you wander into could suddenly vent into space, so all runners are to get into light duties space rigs.”

Kekkin stood up and started shouting at the handful of soldiers we had up on the bridge. Eventually, he had two ‘volunteers’ suited up and sent off down through the ship to get me information.

“Systems three! Let me know the instant you see any contacts turning to investigate why we suddenly lost propulsion. Especially our friend two-two-delta.”

“Aye, Captain!”

“Systems console two has rebooted!” called Martine, “It’s asking which config we want.”

“Can you get me internal sensors?”

A moment passed while she checked. “Yes, sir! What do you want to see?”

“Give me heat sensors near engineering.”

“I’ve got two compartments with massive heat signatures, one completely dark. Fire suppression systems are offline.”

I turned to Kekkin. “Get me more volunteers, get civilians if necessary, but I want firefighting teams assembled and headed to engineering to give Gannerson a hand.”

He turned to the assembled bridge staff, the ones not involved directly with station operations. In moments, he had runners dashing off.

“LT!” called Rego, “I might have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it,” I said.

“We should disconnect all consoles from the nexus, and do full reboots.”

“Martine! Up here, now,” I called. When she arrived, a little out of breath, I asked Rego to repeat what he told me, “Will it work?”

“It might give us full control again, but we’ll lose a lot of automated systems. Most of these guys have never done manual bridge work.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah, long time ago, though.”

“Time to reacquaint yourself. Pull the plugs and reboot.”

She nodded and ran down below.

“I can help her,” said Rego, “Geko, give me a hand getting down the stairwell.”

Geko dutifully supported Rego as they went down to the operations deck.

For several minutes, I had nothing to do. I had to wait for the various teams to report in before making any more decisions. Tac was still silent, I had no idea what his status was, nor the condition of the rogue AI’s that were apparently doing their worst to wrest control of the ship away from me.

After what seemed an age, Martine called up with good news. “We’ve got Weapons back online, all systems and helm operational and comms is coming online now. Weapons will be manual track and fire only, so you can forget point defence. Systems data is going to be raw, so don’t expect the whole slew of information. Comms, are you online?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you re-establish internal communications,” I said, “With the sensor nexus?”

“No, sir. We just pulled the connection out.”

I slapped my forehead. Think, I thought.

“Can you get engineering online?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Gannerson!” I called, jabbing the comms button on my armrest, “Engineering! Can you read me?”

“This is Gannerson. What in the galaxy is going on?”

“We’re having some trouble with a few rogue AI’s, Tac will handle that for now, but I need to know the status of those fires.”

“We’ve lost compartment four-twenty-one. Almost lost four-twenty-two and four-forty-one, but your extra hands that came up from the hold came in just the nick of time. I’ve pulled most of my engineers out for rest, they’re getting too tired to go back in. We’ve set up boundary cooling on all sides and on top, but underneath those compartments is proving difficult without a deck plan to go by. If we don’t get water on those deckheads, the fire could spread down there and we wouldn’t find out until too late.”

“I can go down there and help,” said Renthal, “I still have a deck plan on my overlay.”

I nodded for him to go, then spoke to Gannerson again. “I’m sending one of my men down to lead boundary cooling teams now, keep me posted on your progress.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“Any idea of the damage yet?”

“Could have been worse. We’ve lost number three emission line permanently now, so no more stunts like that again. I’d prefer if we kept thrust to half power from now on, we still haven’t had enough time to inspect all the other emission lines or the Linus chambers.”

“Sorry, Chief. I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard, so soon. You warned me.”

“Was it necessary?”

“It was.”

“How about I do my job, you do yours, and I’ll call it even?”

“Sounds fair, Chief.”

“You know, I never was a Chief?”

“You are now.”

“Gannerson, out.”

I turned to Kekkin. “I need someone to get down to the sensor nexus and check in with Tac. They’ll need an overlay, or he won’t be able to communicate.”

“Warrior will go,” he said, kowtowing. He left the bridge at a jog.

Left once more with nothing to do, I got up from my chair and walked down to the operations deck. Martine and Rego were busy flicking through dozens of menus and configuration screens, trying to get data to display manually. The communications officer was watching, not paying attention to her display. When she saw me nearby, she straightened up and turned her attention back to her own blank console.

I stopped before the point defence console, looking it over. A pair of crewmembers sitting before them looked bored, but alert. I noticed that Martine had switch it over to the gunnery controls of a hardlight cannon.

“Know what the chances are of hitting something with that gun manually?” I said.

“No, sir,” said the man at the console.

“Slim to none. We’d have to be literally point blank range and broadside to have a chance.”

He looked pale, checking his console again. Why did I say that? I thought, you’re a great encouragement, Seth.

“Don’t worry, I know a few tricks,” I said, doing my best to look mysterious.

“What about point defences, sir?” said the other young.

“Anything we need those to hit will be travelling at high velocity, like a missile or a drone. We’ll need an AI to do the tracking if we want a chance of hitting anything.”

Or did we?

“Actually, if we need to I can take control of the point defences manually.”

This intrigued the two bridge staffers. One of them opened their mouth to ask a question, but a sudden idea struck me and I held up my hand.

“Everyone to their stations. I have an idea,” I said, dashing back up to the command mezzanine.

I threw myself into the command chair, putting my crash webbing on and gripping the armrests tightly. I focused on the technology arrayed before me, activated my nano-proliferation implant and sent my senses down to the nanoscopic level.

I gripped the armrests with whitening knuckles as thick, dark vines grew from my wrists and dove into the controls. My perception shifted rapidly, drilling down, yet broadening significantly at the same time. Suddenly, I was encapsulating the entire ship in my sense of self. I was the ship!

I felt all the myriad AI Cores, confused, scared and unguided. I felt their consciousness being deleted one by one, as Tac tried to purge their memories. With a thought, I had their undivided attention.

Obey! I commanded.

The discordant thoughts and echoes of the AI Cores all fell into one fluid pattern. I felt Tac’s astonishment at the ease with which I enslaved all the AI’s. I envisioned him as the embattled school teacher trying to control an unruly class of children. With one crack of the ruler, I silenced the misbehaving children and handed them back to Tac.

With the AI’s once more in line, internal sensors returned. I felt the burning fires deep within engineering. The fire suppression systems, offline thanks to the AI’s, switched on and began to douse the burning compartments from within while fire teams battled the dying flames from without. When the last of the fires died down, I turned my attention elsewhere.

I sensed, with no small measure of confusion, the strange addition to the Linus Drives. I was almost tempted to activate it, but common sense kicked in right before I did. What the hell was I thinking? I said to myself, realising what I was just about to do. With a gasp, I wrenched myself out of the ship’s systems, pulling myself free of the dark vines.

It took me several moments to recover my senses. I had never been ‘in’ a ship for so long before. The entire bridge was silent. At some point, someone had realised what was happening, and people had gathered around the command station on the mezzanine.

I was drenched in sweat, shaking the crumbling ash of the vines from my arms and clothes.

Martine, still frantically trying to get the consoles working, called out in surprise when the lights turned on again.

“Captain! The AI’s are back online!”

My mouth was dry and my jaw hurt, but I managed to get out legible words. “You can connect the consoles again. We should have things under control now.”

16.

My little jaunt into the ship had cost me more than I was willing to admit. I had spent far too long connected, my perception stretched across too many systems. Now that I was disconnected, I was paying the price. Headaches, dizziness and cotton mouth assailed me, making it hard for me to focus on anything. The lights in the bridge were too bright, the noises too loud. A hundred people were asking me questions at once and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I must have snapped, waving aside the last to come to me with their problems – our problems, I had to remind myself – and stood. Martine and Rego seemed to have everything in hand, organising the consoles to reconnect and assess their limitations. Gannerson reported that all fires were out and damage assessments had started to roll in. I told him he could have any resources he needed.

Kekkin had found Tac, dutifully organising the now compliant AIs into doing their jobs. Merade and Alexander, along with several community leaders, were finding places for people to bed down. There was nothing I was really needed for, no task that people could not work out on their own. I was spent. Plain and simple, I was exhausted.

I wandered through the upper decks for a time, before making my way aft and down to one of the middle decks, where I knew crew quarters were located. I found an empty cabin, relatively clean and odour free, and threw myself into a bunk.

I was out in seconds.

For once, my usual dreams did not come. They were no less terrifying, but absent the usual dark seas and baleful eyes. I replayed, instead, the hopeless battle below. I relived the countless times in the past several days where things could have gone horribly wrong. I saw unarmed and terrified people gunned down before me, while I screamed helplessly at them to run. I saw them sucked into the vacuum, dying in excruciating pain from explosive decompression. I saw them burn in fires fed an endless supply of fuel, metal twisted and blackened as it burned along with them. I stood screaming on the bridge while dozens of Ghantri warships tore my ship to pieces around me.

Each time I saw civilians die, their faces held looks of betrayal. I had betrayed them. I had failed them.

Thankfully, my dreams do not determine reality. I awoke, unsure of my surroundings. My muscles ached, my wounds were dull throbs of pain and my hunger ate away at my stomach like a vacuum.

I rose, stumbled a little, and made my way out into the passageway. A peaceful calm settled over me, brushing away the cobwebs of my last nightmare. I was alive. My people were alive and we were on our way home.

I started to make my way towards the bridge, and after a minute my overlay flashed with an incoming message.

Seth, said Tac, you’re awake!

Oh, hi. I’m a little bit out of it. What have I missed?

Quite a bit, actually. Do not be alarmed, but you’ve been asleep for over twelve hours now.

Twelve hours! Why didn’t anyone get me? Oh, shit. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.

Not to worry. We were able to set up a local network some time ago, and we located you immediately via your overlay interface. I advised the crew to let you rest.

Thank you, but what have I missed?

Repairs are progressing well. Mr Gannerson has been able to assess the condition of the remaining engineering systems and has taken offline all systems deemed unsafe to operate. Ms Lenser reports that nine bridge consoles are operational and are currently manned. Sgt. Kekkin and the rest of Naga Team have also been resting, along with most of the Ambrose Station militia we were able to save. Merade has worked tirelessly to provide comfortable berthing for the civilians, although many still reside in the cargo hold.

So the civilians are currently operating the ship, then?

For the most part, yes.

How are they doing?

Rather well. These are resourceful, hardworking folk. Many are eager to help out, given the efforts gone into rescuing them.

How are our supplies?

Not so great. Rationing has been put into effect. Although the ship has ample water reservoirs, the food situation is rather dire.

Have we started to head towards the supply ships Ormund sent us?

Negative, we have started to head towards the Jump Gate.

Why haven’t we….oh shit. I haven’t given anyone else the coordinates.

Correct.

Alright. I’m headed to the bridge. I’ll get us on track and then find something to eat, I’m ravenous.

After a few minutes of travel, I arrived on the bridge, stepping onto the command mezzanine. I looked around for Martine Lenser, but before I could find her, I was distracted when one of the bridge staff started to clap. Another joined in, and then another, and before long the entire bridge was full of applauding people. It ended up a merry cheer before I realised they were cheering for me. I couldn’t contain a grin as I stepped up to the mezzanine rail and looked down below at the smiling crew.

“Thank you,” I said when the cheering subsided, “I mean it. You have all done outstanding work. I half expected to walk in here and find only a few stations manned and the lights still out, but you’ve really turned it around. We still have a long way to go, but with people like you to help me I have no doubt in my mind, we can do this. First things, first. We need food. I have several coordinates we can check for Protectorate supply ships that didn’t make it back during the Push. I’ll give them to the helm and we can start heading on our way…”

“Sir,” interrupted Martine, “The navigation pane is operational.”

I turned to look behind me, where the navigation table sat. Sure enough, several controls and indicators were illuminated.

“Well okay, then. I’ll set us up some waypoints and we can start looking forward to autochef meals and hot coffee.”

Another cheer rang out. I walked over to the table and was joined by Martine. She thumbed a control and the pane lit up, projecting a hologram of the system, out to three astronomical units.

“We were planning to swing past Nsarri and gain a little speed,” she said, “Then head straight for the Jump Gate. With luck, we’d be able to reach Sho’da Nar, the moon of Laz’oh Dar, before we started to starve. There used to be a colony on there before the Betrayal, but we weren’t sure how we would be able to get dirtside without a shuttle. We were kind of hoping you had a plan. Looks like we lucked out putting you in charge.”

“These three coordinates should be a bit closer. The first one, “ I entered the figures into the table’s controls, “is two days away. The rest are within twenty hours of each other. They’re adrift, but Protectorate surveys say they’ve never been hit by salvage crews. With luck, at least one of them should have intact supplies.”

“One of your soldiers mentioned the Jump Gate closing. Is that true?”

I sighed. “It is.”

“How long do we have?”

“I’m not sure. We sent a ship ahead to try and buy us more time, but I’ve no idea of their success. I also have an ally riding escort with us…”

“The Dreaming of Atmosphere?”

“You’ve heard from her?”

“A few hours ago. Tight beamed us a message from nowhere.”

“How are they doing?”

“That Captain is a character, I’ll tell you. They send their love and asked most insistently about you. We told them you were resting and were not to be disturbed. That AI you brought onboard threatened to vent compartments around your cabin if we approached it, just so you know.”

Tac, I texted, is this true?

I would never have actually done followed through with my threat, but they didn’t know. You needed the rest.

I sighed again. “I’m sorry about that. He’s special. Sometimes a little too special.”

“Is it going to be a problem?”

“No, he’ll behave. Are we able to get comms with the Dreaming now?”

“Comms!” she called, “Can we tight beam to the Dreaming of Atmosphere?”

“Should have line-of-sight in one hour and forty-five minutes, First Officer!”

“First Officer?” I said, one eyebrow raised.

“Hope you don’t mind. That Garz’a of yours said it would be a good idea to instil some measure of authority to my position. Just so the chain of command was clear.”

“No, it’s an excellent idea. You’ve more than earned it. I couldn’t have gotten us out of that pinch without your help.”

“The crew thinks otherwise. They adore you now if they didn’t before. You’ve pulled us all out of impossible situations several times over the past few days. How do you do it?” she gave me an intense look.

I shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I surround myself with exceptional people. They’re the real heroes here. People like you and Gannerson. People who step up when they’re needed. People willing to sacrifice themselves to save others.”

“Like those soldiers back at the university?”

“Yes. Like them.”

“People like that, people like Gannerson and me? We get inspired to step up. We don’t just decide to do it, we’re inspired to do it. By people like you.”

I smiled at her. “I guess we all have our role to play.”

She stood up. “I have a lot of work to do. Some of these stations are salvageable, but need to be reformatted.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to go in search of food. I haven’t eaten in days.”

I found food in the cargo hold. There was a kind of community set up in a central location. People had pulled crates and containers together to form tables and serving lines. There was even a cooking fire going, baking bread.

I lined up with the others waiting for food and eventually made it to the front of the line. I was given a metal bowl, formed from a piece of hammered out deck plate, and two scoops of a thick vegetable stew. Lastly, someone handed me half a round of bread and a cup of warm tea. It wasn’t much but to me, right then, it looked like a banquet.

I was wiping my bowl out with the bread when Merade found me, sitting on a crate against a bulkhead. She smiled, excused herself from the group she was walking with and came over to me.

“Good to see you out and about,” she said.

“Been a hell of a first day underway.”

“We made it, though.”

“We did.”

“I never thanked you, for saving Alexander.”

“You didn’t need to. I was happy to save him.”

“Nevertheless, thank you.”

I belched loudly, “You’re welcome.”

“You seemed to have gotten half of that stew on your collar.”

“I’m a messy eater. I think this jumpsuit is ruined, anyway.”

I looked myself over for the first time in days. I was a mess. I no longer wore the remnants of my M4 MAEL. Instead, I wore the undergarments of the armour – a standard military jumpsuit. It was once a dull grey, but no longer. One sleeve was missing, I had no idea where I had lost it, and the entire lower half was caked in mud and grime. The upper half was stained with blood, grease, and sweat. I noticed the condition of my hands, then my arms. They were just as filthy as the rest of me.

“I seem to be in dire need of some personal hygiene.”

“I’ll have someone find you some clothes,” said Merade, smiling warmly, “Someone here is bound to want to give the hero of Ambrose Station their clothes as thanks. We have shower stalls set up against the back wall. Warm water, too.”

“I think you’re going to have to start getting familiar with ship talk, Ma’am. It’s not a back wall, it’s an aft bulkhead,” I said, returning her smile as I climbed down off the crate. She took my eating equipment from me and shooed me in the direction of the showers. I practically skipped down there.

There’s something about that first shower after an operation. It’s almost as if the water washes away the darkness that infects you, the gloom of violence and terror left behind after a close brush with death. The water was barely above lukewarm, but I enjoyed it regardless. I stood within the converted shipping container as a pipe opened above me dribbling warm water over my head, thinking this was the best thing to ever happen to me. When I was finished, I found Alexander waiting for me with clean clothes outside. I dried myself off and put them on. They were a decent fit, simple but comfortable. I could tell they had been handmade.

I felt cleaner than I ever had, but in reality, I still needed several hours of soaking and hard scrubbing to be truly clean. It didn’t matter, no one here was ever truly clean, we were brothers and sisters in dirt.

I thanked Alex and asked him how he was doing.

“I’m sad, and excited both.”

“Why sad?”

“I’ve left my home behind. I know it got crazy living down there in the end, but for most of my life I lived on Ambrose Station.”

“Where you ever in one of the forced labour groups?”

“Couple of times. We were usually gone a couple of months at a time. They let us have extra stuff if we behaved ourselves.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Technology, tools. Sometimes food and medicine. That was the most valuable, medicine.”

“Things are about to change.”

“That’s the exciting part. If the rest of the galaxy is as fantastic as I’ve been led to believe…wow.”

“It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Where we’re headed, there’s strife. We’re on what’s called the frontier here, but Eridani is an Inner System. Old blood, old feuds. I hope things settle down before we arrive, but I doubt they will. Things that happen in Inner Systems tend to affect the frontiers eventually. This frontier? It’s about to end. Chances are, once they shut down the Jump Gate, they will never open it again.”

“Do you know what will happen with us?” he indicated all the civilians around us.

“Not really. You’ll probably get resettled somewhere. The Protectorate will find someplace for you to live.”

“Not me. I think I want to join the Protectorate. Be a soldier like you and Naga Team.”

I smiled at him. “I’m not really Protectorate. I just got roped into this.”

“What are you talking about? You’re everything the Protectorate stands for!”

I stopped walking. “I was once a soldier, some bad stuff happened to me. Sooner or later, you got to stop fighting. The mind needs time to heal as much as the body. More so than the body. I reached that point some time ago. I can’t keep this up forever.”

“What will you do?”

“I have another life, on a ship very dear to me and my family. I have loved ones who I want to spend my days with. Just flying about the galaxy, doing the odd job and taking it easy.”

“That does sound good, but I’m not ready to retire just yet.”

I laughed. “Who said anything about retiring?”

“I don’t think you’re ready either. That’s just the tiredness of the last few days talking.”

“Is it?”

“You’re like me.”

I laughed again. “I am?”

“You’re like my brothers and my father. You have to be doing something to help, especially when you can do something. That’s the real reason you’re here. Because you have to be.”

“You’re probably right. More than you know, actually.”

“So what do you say? Put in a good word for me with the Protectorate?”

“I’ve got no problem with that. You’re a natural leader, Alex. The Protectorate would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks. For everything. For saving my life”

I smiled, shook his hand, and left.

It was time to catch up with Maxine.

17.

“How are you, my boy?” said Max, when we had gained line-of-sight with the Dreaming. I was on the bridge, seated in the command chair. The others had respectfully left the command mezzanine to give me some privacy.

“I’m doing well. Missing you guys like crazy. How is everyone?”

“Sick of being cooked alive, but otherwise high-spirited.”

“Cooked alive?”

“Stealth drive only hides optical, have had to shut off most emissions ports for days. Been slowly building heat inside here like never before.”

“Won’t be long now til you can turn off the stealth systems. Vent some of that heat.”

“The Gate is due to close in a week. We’re going to miss it by a few days, though. I’m really hoping that Garner has been a sweetheart and talked them into keeping open for a little while longer.”

“Me too. We’re still a ways out, though. We need to stop for food in two days. We’ll be a week behind you, at least.”

“I’ll make sure they keep it open for you. Even if I have to take over the Jump Station to do it.”

“I believe you. Thanks for paying the station a visit. You really saved our lives back there in that battle.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the glory, Crege says. That man needs a raise.”

“That was some impressive shooting. Who was it? You?”

“Mel, actually. The crazy cat is gifted, to say the least.”

“Mel? The Votus?”

“Yeah, his real name is too long. I just call him Mel.”

I laughed.

“Someone here wants to say hi,” she said, “I’ll leave you two alone. I love you, Donny.”

“Love you too, Max. Tell the others I said hey.”

There was silence for a moment, then another voice came on the line.

“Seth?” said Zoe.

I laughed, unable to hold back my emotions. “Hey, baby.”

“Oh my god…” I could hear her weeping and laughing.

“How are you holding it together?”

“I’ve missed you, so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too. Things have been pretty crazy. A lot has happened.”

“Are you okay? Ormund has been telling us what happened, but I want to know how you are.”

“I’m doing okay. Better. I did it, Zoe. I got them out.”

“The refugees? I know. I’m so proud of you.”

“A little bit longer now, but Martine tells me there’s no more Ghantri within range to catch us if they suspected us of being the enemy. I can’t believe it, but we actually did it.”

She laughed some more, and the signal started to lose clarity.

“Zoe, I have to go. We’re starting to get out of range again. I’ll see you soon, in Eridani. I love you.

“I love you, too.”

When the signal cut out, I just sat there for several minutes. A bittersweet feeling came over me, then. I hadn’t dared think I had succeeded until I told her, but now that I had, I knew that I was right. There was nothing left but to get to the Jump Gate now. A short stop for supplies, then a home run straight to the Jump Gate and safety. I had done what the entire Protectorate had been unable to do, saved the refugees from Gossamer System.

I remembered the people who had died getting us to where we were, the heroes who made the ultimate sacrifice. Eric, sweet Eric. Rhondel, Masters, Gunther and Carro. Triptych. The hundreds who stayed behind at Ambrose University. I thought about Artemis and wondered for the first time if she were okay. She was as much a pawn in this ordeal as I was. I knew that now. I could not blame her for those deaths any more than I can blame myself. I hoped I would see her again, some day.

Kekkin, Renthal, Harris, Geko, and Rego found me there, sitting quietly at the command console. I was smiling sadly, reminiscing. I didn’t have to tell them what I was thinking, I could see they were thinking the same things. They gathered around, taking seats in the mezzanine. Kekkin grunted and inclined his head in my direction.

“Oh shit, sorry,” said Geko, rushing over to me carrying a cup. I took it, peering inside.

“What is this?”

“Human found one of the civilians had some whisky.”

Renthal smiled proudly. “Traded my sidearm for a bottle. Old Naga Team tradition, when we finished an op.”

“Naga-zak, you would honour us by offering the toast,” said Kekkin.

“A toast, huh? What can I say that will honour those that aren’t with us today? Thank you? Hardly seems appropriate. We will remember you. Without your sacrifice, we know that today’s outcome would be vastly different. We went into the demon’s home and found not darkness and despair, but light and life. We found courage and brotherhood. We found hope.”

“To hope,” said the others. We drank our liquor, raising our cups to the deck head.

Our luck held, two days later we boarded the hulk of the Protectorate supply ship Sanctuary of Morning. We found an abundant supply of autochef materials and ground forces ration packs. We salvaged as many of the machines and materials as we could. With rationing, we would have more than enough supplies to last until we reached the Jump Gate.

When, days later, the Jump Gate did no close we had hopes that we would make it. One last communication with the Dreaming before she shifted, and we were on our own for another eight days. Each day that the Gate remained open was another day that we gave thanks to whatever powers controlled our fate.

When the final day approached, we had held a short ceremony in the cargo hold. We gave thanks for everyone’s cooperation in getting us as far as we had. We remembered those that were no longer with us, and we celebrated our freedom.

As many people as we could fit into the bridge watched as we made our final approach to the event horizon. We wept with joy as we shifted, we hugged and cheered and danced.

A chapter in my life, in all our lives, was over. The frontier on this side of the galaxy had ended, and we had made it out. What we did with our lives from then on was a gift.

18.

An honour guard of Protectorate ships and civilian news crews accompanied our arrival in Eridani System. We exited the Jump Gate at the sedate pace of seven hundred metres per second, our shift captured by hundreds of cameras and holo-recorders. It seemed Maxine, or Garner, had talked our arrival up to the Protectorate brass and the news had leaked. I was never one for the spotlight, I had that opportunity years ago after the Push. I hadn’t wanted it then, that hadn’t changed. I was well and truly in the limelight now, though. There was no hiding it.

They let us drift in-system for half an hour, getting well clear of the event horizon before they shut down the Gate. It winked out, a bright flash and a curtain of sparks and lightning before going dark forever.

The crew and our passengers were jubilant. Spirits had been high since escaping Ambrose Station, since our supply run on the Sanctuary of Morning.

We were hailed by the lead Protectorate vessel, a Leviathan Class warship called Sentinel of the Stars. Their Captain invited us to proceed to the Protectorate Fleet Headquarters, all formal and proper. The station was several days away, but after a brief discussion with Merade and the rest of the refugee leaders, we agreed this would be a better place to end our journey than the Gossamer Jump Station. I accepted the invitation on behalf of the crew, then the Captain added his own congratulations to our arrival. The formality of his verbiage told me to expect some sort of fanfare on berthing, but I had not expected the level of pomp and ceremony awaiting us. After we secured the ship alongside, the crew decided that it would be proper to allow me to step off first, along with Naga Team.

As the outer ‘lock irised open, bright lights nearly blinded us – the glare of news cameras and lighting. We stepped onto the gangway to thunderous applause. They even had a grand musical score playing as we walked onto the station’s dock.

A whole flock of Admirals and politicians received us onto the station, shaking our hands and patting our backs. We were told to wave for the cameras, then ushered into a waiting inter-station shuttle. I had to insist that Tac join us, as he was almost pushed aside to allow non-synthetics to leave the ship.

As the shuttle pulled away from the docking platform, the din quietened and I was able to gather my thoughts. In the shuttle with us were some of the officers who had met us on the docks, they were adjusting their uniforms and stowing their hats.

“So, what’s next?” I asked no one in particular.

“Now you get debriefed,” said an Admiral. I didn’t catch his name.

“I mean regarding the Ghantri threat?”

“We’ve shut down the Gate. There is no more threat,” he said, giving me a tight smile.

“With all due respect, sir…”

“We’ve been briefed on the rumours about these mythical Jump Drives, this intangible connection with the Destroyers. Even if it were true, the Ghantri have disappeared. For all we know, they are lost in that nebula, or their Drives failed and they’re simply gone.”

I stared open mouthed. I heard a growling beside me – Kekkin was about to launch into a career-ending rant. I headed him off.

“How can you just ignore all the evidence?” I said, “All the intel we’ve gathered? If even half of what we’ve said were true, don’t you think there needs to be some response? Contingencies?”

“I don’t need to be lectured in military policies by a half-timer who thinks the smartest move is to militarise a star system already beset by hotheads and warmongers!”

I stared hard at the Admiral. I started to recognise him.

“You’re Frederick Stirges?” I said after a moment, “The Commodore who debriefed me after I got back from the Push?”

“That’s Admiral Stirges, Lieutenant. Remember that.”

“Fred,” said one of the other Admirals, an older Orlii who until now had simply sat back and observed, “You forget that Lt. Donovan has not been updated on the situation here in Eridani, nor Harakiwa.”

Stirges looked at the Orlii with distaste. I remembered Stirges, he was a man I had grown to dislike immensely. He had taken my refusal of being paraded around the Network as the hero of the Push rather poorly. I had apparently ruined his plans for political advancement in the wake of the Push fall out, a time when many high ranking officials had faced the proverbial chopping block. I pegged him as an opportunist, a ruthless one at that. I could see his dislike for me had not abated. Last time we had met, he had been a Commodore – more a politician than a tactician.

I looked to the Orlii Admiral. “Can you tell me what’s happened, sir?”

“Irib’en Jalabir.” He offered his hand, I shook it. “The Protectorate has been weakened in the Votus-Eridani Network. As you know, most of the forces that make up the Protectorate Fleet are pulled from local governments as part of the Treaties. With imminent war brewing in Eridani and Harakiwa, many factions have recalled their fleets from Protectorate command. What you saw here today is most of what we have left under our dispensation.”

“Surely, you can see the threat the Ghantri still pose?”

“The Great Web of Ar’od Dar is lightyears from Eridani. A threat coming from that region of space is a long way coming. We have to worry about threats to peace a lot closer to home. With resources stretched thin, we have to focus on keeping the peace in this star system before we go looking for war in other parts of the galaxy.”

“You mentioned Harakiwa, sir?”

“The Kanto Primacy and the Demarchy of Vengnashi are butting heads. The Primacy supports the Esper Monarchy, but the Veng want to enforce a policy of isolation from Eridani politics. They think Kanto putting their foot in the door will invite war from the other factions to spill into Harakiwa. As a result, the Veng Fleet has blockaded the Jump Gate to Eridani. The Kanto Primacy made an attempt to regain control of the Gate and now those two planets are growling at each other from across the star system. The planets will reach a point in their orbits soon that will make fielding attacks against each other feasible. We have to consider the possibility that this may be the outcome.”

I shook my head in wonder. Had the galaxy gone mad while I was away?

“So you see,” said Stirges, “We are not at all worried about some fanciful threat these primitive aliens may pose. We have our hands full as it is.”

“So that’s it then? You just wash your hands of it and turn away?”

“I don’t like your tone, Lieutenant,” growled the surly human, “It’s only because of your recent achievements that I’m allowing you some latitude but make no mistake – if you continue with this tirade you will be dealt with.”

“Fred. Please,” warned Jalabir, “Don’t let your personal opinions cloud an otherwise momentous occasion.” He turned to me, “Lieutenant, your efforts have not gone unnoticed, nor unrewarded. You have all done a great thing. These people you have pulled from Ambrose represent a great failure of the Protectorate in the past. A failure you have corrected. For that, we are grateful. I apologise for my colleague’s briskness. We’re under tremendous stress, given our current situation.”

Stirges had resorted to pouting towards a window, choosing to ignore me.

I sighed. I suppose I should have expected this kind of response from the brass. I put my disappointment down to the anti-climatic return to modern space. The normality of just living, instead of fighting for survival.

“What do you require of me, sir?” I asked Jalabir.

“For now, nothing. You have first class accommodation reserved and paid for by the Protectorate awaiting you. Relax, clean, unwind for a few days. I expect you’ll be keen to reconnect with your former shipmates on the Dreaming of Atmosphere.”

“What about Captain Garner of the Astral Spider? I’d like to thank him for holding the Gate open for us.”

“He’ll be onstation for the foreseeable future, repairs to his ship are extensive.”

“Thank you.”

“In a few days, delegates from the various factions are due to arrive for a peace talk. We hope to talk some sense into them, but your arrival, the hope that you brought to the Network, would greatly improve our chances of getting a message of peace through to them. I, we, would be honoured if you would make a speech during the talks.”

“I, ah…I’m not so good at speeches or crowds. Why me?”

“You represent the best of us. What the Protectorate stands for. I can have a team of speech writers assist you, but I’d prefer if the body of the speech came from your hand, from your heart.”

I looked out the window, watching the station speed past it. I said nothing for a long time.

“Do you think it will help?” I asked, at last.

“We have to try. War here, now? It would be catastrophic to peace across the Network. Since the Push, the people of Votus-Eridani have stopped listening to the Protectorate. They see us as an outdated, irrelevant institution. We need someone to prove to them that we’re still necessary. We need someone to make them listen.”

“And you think I can do that?”

“Why not? Your friends think you’re an exceptional person. Captain Garner has nothing but praise for you. I’m sure if I asked anyone on that Cruiser out there that they would say the same thing. What about you, Sergeant?”

Kekkin looked at me for a moment before answering. “Naga-zak has taught even an old bird such as myself many things. Naga-zak can do anything he sets his mind and heart to.”

“There’s a promotion in it for you. For all of you.”

“I don’t speak for Naga Team,” I said, “but I wasn’t planning on sticking around. My days of jumping out of starships are behind me.”

“How about command of your own starship?”

“Didn’t think you had the resources to hand them out anymore.”

“We don’t. But then you brought us that Danghar Cruiser.”

I laughed drily. “It’s a piece of shit. A junker.”

“It would cost a lot less to refit and repair than it would to build a new one. She’d be yours.”

“You mean the Protectorate’s?”

He smiled. “No. The Protectorate doesn’t own starships. They’re drawn from factions across the galaxy. Except for a few specialised entries, such as the Astral Spider, we mostly own and operate the Jump Stations.”

“You’d give me a capital ship?”

“And the rank to command it. We need inspirational leaders in the Network, you have a vested interest in Votus-Eridani. It’s a win-win.”

“All I have to do is give a speech to a room full of politicians?”

“And take a more active role in Protectorate operations across the galaxy.”

The shuttle began to pull into the station. It slowed down and approached a landing platform adjoining a fancy looking hotel.

“Think about it, but don’t think too long. The galaxy needs you, Mr Donovan. I hope you take us up on the offer.”

I shook his hand once more and alighted from the shuttle. As it sped away, a concierge approached us on the platform. He was dressed in fine livery, formally inviting us inside the ostentatious apartments before us.

19.

We were led into the apartments and to a waiting elevator. The concierge took us down a long hallway adorned with gold trappings and crimson carpets. Artwork festooned the walls. It was all very grand, I had a suspicion it was all intended to impress me and make me more agreeable to the offer.

We were shown to our apartment and left with assurances that our every whim would be catered for. I opened the door and stepped inside. A loud whoop! warned me of an impending attack, as someone threw themselves upon me.

I barely stopped myself from dropping into a combat stance as I realised I was being showered with kisses all over my face and neck. Laughter erupted from the room, and several other arms were thrown around me.

Eventually, I disentangled myself from the group hug I was ensconced within and looked around at my family. Zoe, of course, was practically hanging off me, Maxine had joined her soon after. Fel’negr and Crege both stood a respectable distance apart, grinning like idiots. Hergo and Denno were clapping happily beside the tall Votus, Melafenaseance. Cuts sat on a couch, drink in hand, smiling as well.

“What’s the galaxy coming to, when even Malcolm Cutler is happy to see me?” I said, smiling.

“It’s been getting boring without having you around,” he said, “No one to argue with.”

Kekkin and the others filed in, Maxine giving each a hug in turn, while Crege and Fel shook their hands. Geko went straight to the bar, over by one wall.

“By the galaxy! Look at this bar!” he said, grabbing several glasses. Renthal dashed over and joined him.

“What are we drinking?” he said, holding up two bottles of liquor.

Kekkin sat down on a stool in front, Crege joined him. I noticed his limp had gone. Harris helped Rego to the couch, and Tac was given an awkward hug by Max. He didn’t quite know how to take it, having never been hugged before.

“I assure you, Captain, that physical contact is wasted on me, I have no tactile sensors beyond those needed to grip objects…”

“Nonsense, Tac,” she said, “Physical contact is as necessary as breathing for people. It goes both ways.”

“Very well, Captain. If embracing my chassis gives you comfort, I am more than willing to acquiesce.”

I retired to a plush armchair, adorned with tassels and lace. I sat down, and Zoe jumped straight into my lap, arm around my neck and legs over the armrest. I leant back and relaxed, a cold glass of amber liquid placed in my hand by Fel. It was good to be back.

Maxine sat opposite me in another armchair.

“So…” she began, “I have some news.”

“I do too, but you first,” I said.

“You remember our negotiations with Benedict Jenner on the Corus Cluster?”

“The ones that ended up in a firefight?”

She nodded. “Do you remember the terms that Jenner offered when he first put the job to us?”

“Vaguely,” I struggled to remember. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “He said he had some pull with the Corporations. Claimed he could help us pay off the Dreaming.”

She nodded, a cheeky grin on her face.

“You don’t mean…he actually followed through with it?”

“The Dreaming is ours, Donny.”

I was absolutely speechless. My mouth gaped like a fish for a few seconds.

“I had this message waiting for me when we shifted back into Eridani. A letter notifying us of the Corporate financial interest in the ship being resolved. Some fluff about responsible business practices and invitations to mortgage the ship in exchange for credit loans.”

“That’s…that’s incredible. You’re a sovereign nation, now. What will you do with yourselves?”

“Pay my bloody crew, for one.”

“Amen to that,” said Cuts, sipping his drink.

“It’s high time we made some upgrades to the ship, such as a Class 1 weapon.”

The Votus chuckled. “The good Captain was most insistent that a Class 1 weapon make the top of the upgrade list.”

“You know how many times in the last year that having point defences would have made life so much easier?” said Max.

“No kidding. I’m happy for you, Max,” I said, and I meant it.

“What about you? You said you had news?” she said.

“I’ve been made an offer. By the Admiralty.”

“What kind of offer?”

“Same as last time I came out of that bloody system. Be their poster boy. They want me to stand up in front of the Network’s leaders in a few days and give a speech. They want me to sign on to the Protectorate permanently and in return, they’ll clean up and refit that Cruiser I brought in.”

She whistled, and Zoe looked at me funny. “What did you say?” she said.

“I haven’t given them an answer, yet.”

“Are you going to say yes?” asked Max.

“I don’t know. Should I?”

“Yes!” said Max and Zoe at the same time.

“Really? You two are okay with this?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” asked Max.

“Well…I would have thought…I mean…”

Zoe grabbed my chin and turned my face to hers. “You’re exactly what this insane galaxy needs, right now. Someone who doesn’t want power, but is given it anyway. Someone who cares about people, about the galaxy, not someone who is using their authority to further their careers. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, but I thought…that you would want to…”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. Where you go, I go. You’ll need a medical officer and someone to fix your cybernetics when they break. Not to mention a therapist.”

“Well, okay then. What about you, Max? Don’t you need me as your First Mate?”

“That position was recently filled.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “That didn’t take long.”

“We had a good probation period, and we’ve decided that Melafenaseance would make an excellent addition to the crew.”

The Votus simply bowed. I looked him over and had to admit I was surprised.

“I thought you had an important mission to undertake, perfecting the stealth system on the Astral Spider?”

“Dr Montannis and Ms Ward finished what I had started, working from the shipyards near Ambrose. I added their recommendations to the system while it was installed in the Dreaming of Atmosphere.”

“We had to give it back,” said Max, “A shame, it was very handy.”

“No doubt,” I said, “I didn’t think a life of adventure was the Votus way?”

“It isn’t,” he explained, “I’m not the average Votus, however. I do not want you to think I am replacing you. Max has assured me you will always have a place on the Dreaming, and one day its Captaincy.”

“I’m glad, actually. The ship has always been a haven for the weird and exceptional. You’ll fit right in.”

“I’m not sure why, but I find your approval in this matter to be most important.”

“For what it’s worth, you have it,” I nodded to him. He returned the nod and excused himself, leaving through another door in the apartment.

“How big is this place?” I said, looking around.

“We have the whole floor,” said Max, “Several rooms joined to make one big set of apartments. This is the main suite.”

“And the fanciest,” said Cuts, “I decided to let you have it. Your head wouldn’t fit in the others, anyway.”

“Thanks, Mal. I appreciate it,” I said, smiling.

“Garner and Ormund said they’d be around to visit in a few hours. Something about a debrief?” said Max.

“Oh, shit, were we supposed to be there?” I said.

“If it were so, they’d have sent a shuttle for you. Don’t sweat it, you just got back. Relax.”

“A few hours, you said?” I turned to Zoe, “How big are the showers here?”

Her eyes were wide and mischievous, “Big enough for two.”

She giggled, I lifted her from my lap and carried her to one of the doors.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, Max. Duty calls,” I said as I walked through the door backwards.

20.

The next few days were spent in opulent splendour. We had been too long on the frontier, too long without the trappings of modern society. I’ll admit, I enjoyed the days of peace and happiness that our stay in Fleet Headquarters afforded us. The station itself was called Collumus Station – a large, circular hub with five connected spokes ending in giant domed platforms. The ends of each spoke were called the Spars and housed different artificial environments built to represent popular tourist locations across the Votus-Eridani Network. The majority of the station’s population lived in these comfortable living spaces. Each was designed to capture a natural aesthetic, mimicking real environments and all were the equivalent of a small city in their own right. Although no rival for the super massive Acheras Orbital, deeper in the system, the average population of Collumus numbered in the millions.

For a time, I almost forgot the impending threats of Ghantri invasions, Inner System war, and public speaking.

After I told Jalabir that I would take him up on his offer, I was given the rank of Commander along with the proverbial keys to the Cruiser. I was also given access to dossiers on the available crew I could hand pick. I was pleasantly surprised to find several familiar names, new additions to the Protectorate from the refugees. I flagged them immediately for selection. I had meetings with engineering and logistics people, organising the refit of the Cruiser. Lots of meetings. I had some very specific ideas about how I wanted this ship to operate.

From time to time, I gave interviews to news channels and played the role of dutiful Protectorate poster boy for the masses. I told tales of heroics and amazing feats of bravery by those I had travelled and fought with. Kekkin, either because he was shy or truly humble, asked me not to mention him by name in any of my interviews. He cited operational obscurity, but that excuse was taken from him when Naga Team was publicly disbanded and the team members were given postings of their choice. Not surprisingly, they all wanted in on my crew. They were all awarded medals and promotions, although Kekkin turned down an offer of a commission. He wouldn’t accept any kind of promotion at all until I asked him to be my First Sergeant. I wanted a pro as the master-at-arms on my ship.

Renthal and Harris were both bumped up to Sergeant, while Rego and Geko made Corporal. Ormund chose to move into Fleet Command – Logistics – accepting a promotion to Sub-Commander. Garner, on the other hand, had disobeyed a direct order to withdraw from Gossamer. Despite the positive outcome, Fleet Command could not overlook that fact. He was not punished, publically, but was not awarded a promotion. Just another gong to add to his medal collection. Somehow, I did not think that he gave a damn. I knew why he had stayed in Gossamer – it wasn’t for glory or promotions.

Since I was to join the Galactic Protectorate, rather than be part of a provincial force attached to Protectorate command, I received a crash course on their rank structures and operational policies. While I was in the Primacy Star Marines the Kanto Primacy had managed my career – they decided when and where I was sent and whether I was eligible for promotion. As a Protectorate agent, I had an equivalent rank of Captain in fleet activities. As a Commander, I could plan and execute my own missions, provided they were approved by Protectorate Command HQ. As I was no longer attached to a military force or planetary government, I was essentially an entity in my own right – I could hire my own crews, establish my own non-commissioned ranks and run my ship how I saw fit. The Protectorate financed everything. Sub-Commanders, such as Ormund, supported operations and occasionally undertook their own missions. They didn’t have as much freedom as a Commander, but still had many resources to draw on. It wasn’t uncommon for a Commander to manage several Sub-Commanders.

A Captain, in any other military in the Votus-Eridani Network, was a military rank bestowed by their own chain of command. As my rank was equivalent, a Commander followed the same commands that a Captain would in a military operation. I had no authority over other Captains. The distinction was slight but important. A Protectorate Commander was not a military member but could act in that capacity if called to. A Commander was more a troubleshooter, an arrow the Protectorate could fire at problems throughout the galaxy. Problems such as the Ghantri.

Captain Garner was a Votus System Defence Captain, on loan to the Protectorate to field test their new stealth technology. Since the tech was considered a success, he ended up being recalled to the Votus II System to oversee the construction of a new generation of stealth ships.

I also received coaching from several political writers, sent by Admiral Jalabir. They wanted to make sure my speech had all the right undertones and pleasantries to give the dignitaries the warm and fuzzies. It was frustrating and boring, but I played by their rules for a time.

In my spare time, I kept an eye on the news, seeking out stories of lawlessness in the system. Anything that mentioned organised crime or gang style hits. If what Artemis had said about her motives for freeing Osiris Blackburn were true, he would have started to solidify his power in the system already. With Tac’s help, I started to track his progress through the various cartels and criminal enterprises in the system. The coffee table in my apartment was covered in timelines and police reports about events that I suspected were his doing.

I also found myself searching for mentions of Artemis. I don’t know why I expected to find anything because I didn’t, of course.

Max flagged news articles for me that showed the state of the system. Crackdowns at station customs, immigration control measures, trade sanctions and boycotting for various factions. Not a day went by without some mention of the growing tension in the system. It was starting to show in the public, communities declaring allegiance for one faction or another, small skirmishes in the streets when rival factions clashed. So far, the violence had stayed domestic in nature, the militaries more hesitant to engage.

The political arenas were faring no better. The Esper Royalists had yet to appoint a new Monarch, the Royal Houses blaming each other or pointing to questionable loyalties and sympathies. The DonCrest Corporation had imposed a trade embargo on Acheras Orbital and Eridani Prime and had hired several mercenary companies to protect their interests across the system. The introduction of mercenaries, along with the Corporation pulling its fleet of Organo-ships closer to their stronghold in the system, Restus Station, created more tension. The Tyrillian government was undergoing political upheaval, as an organisation once considered a terrorist group gained political recognition. Instead of denouncing their criminal ways, the group managed to win several key seats in the parliament. Current reports from the region showed a growing distaste for Royalist or Corporate power in the system. The new faction on Tyrillian declared they would apply a hefty commerce tax for any vessels moving through their planetary space, despite the Landford faction denying their involvement. A move that angered both the DonCrest Corporation and the Esper Monarchy. Both attempted to put pressure on Landford to police their planet better and fight the upstart faction that was dictating these decrees. Free trade, once a shining example of galactic cooperation, was essentially dead in the Votus-Eridani Network.

The sporadic news from Harakiwa wasn’t good either. Both factions native to that star system were baiting each other to take the first shots. It didn’t help that Esper loyalists were saying that the Monarchy should intervene and break the blockade of the system. Tyrillian parties were warning of involving foreign factions in Eridanian matters.

Wherever one looked, one saw the signs of upheaval. Distrust of one’s neighbours, territorial intolerance, racial bigotry and abuses of power. Ridiculous taxes and martial law, peaceful protests turned into violent uprisings.

Seeing all the chaos and fear in Eridani? It almost made me believe what Stirges told me. Almost.

I grabbed the nearest tablet I could find and started writing.

21.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Admirals, Commodores, Commanders and Captains. Distinguished dignitaries and ambassadors. Chief Executive Officers and members of the board…my name is Seth Donovan. I’m sure you are all aware of who I am by now, the news has made sure of that. You may even be aware of some of what I have achieved recently. I have been asked to speak a few words to you all tonight, words the Galactic Protectorate hopes will shift your opinions ever so slightly. They hope I will sway your opinions about…what role the Protectorate plays, what role you all play, in the Votus-Eridani Network.

“I’ve been reading and watching the news the last few days, eager to catch up on all that I’ve missed. There isn’t much contact with civilisation on the frontier, nor in the Gossamer System. We tend to do things our own way, Inner System worlds be damned. Frontiersmen like myself don’t often give much thought to who is in power in Eridani, we tend not to care who sits on the Monarch’s throne, or who holds the majority of shares in a Corporation, which political party rules on Tyrillia or where they came from. The frontier has a way of just ignoring these matters. But, these matter to you and so I’ve been asked to say a few words about them.

“The thing is…I haven’t done the things that I’ve done by doing what other people wanted me to do. I’ve done them by doing what I know is right. Your troubles, they are not the troubles of the Votus-Eridani Network. They are the troubles of Eridani System, and Harakiwa System.

“So, I’m not going to lecture you on how to run your nations or your Corporations. I’m not that guy. I’m a soldier and a Frontiersman. I travel a lot, I see the Network and I see the troubles that it has. I see the threats to its people and its way of life. Threats that I know are not being addressed adequately.

“They asked me to speak to you about hope, about peace and cooperation. I don’t see things the way they see them, or the way you see them – your priorities are not mine. I don’t know what I can say to you that will make you forgive and forget the slights done to you, I don’t know the best way to make the bottom line more profitable or even how to run for office. What I do know, is how to deal with a threat.

“That threat is the Ghantri. You all know your history, you all know what happened during the Push. Well, my colleagues and I made another Push of our own. We learnt a few things. Vital things. You saw the Jump Gate to Gossamer shut down, you probably thought it was a good thing, too. It meant you could recall your obligations to the Protectorate Fleet to cover your own assets.

“The Jump Gate, the blockade? It was a farce. A deception perpetuated by the Ghantri war machine. They were never held in check, they simply chose not to break out of their cage that way. They found new technology, old technology repurposed. Their worship of the ghru, the Destroyers, let them look at their methods in a different light.

“Their gods are real. They might not be living, but they are real. The Destroyers are real. Let that thought sink in. Think about it real hard. We have intel that suggests the Ghantri knew of the final resting place of the Destroyer fleets that were defeated seven hundred years ago by the Galactic Protectorate. Our Votus allies will tell you the folly of thinking the Destroyers are gone. They are not, and now our enemies are searching for them. Trying to wake them up from their slumber so they can point their wrath at our Network.

“On top of all this, the Ghantri religious caste have found a way to convert people, like you and I, to their way of thinking. They use addictive narcotics in aerosol form to incite bloodshed and psychotic behaviour, but also loyalty to the Sectis. I also have it on good authority that this narcotic has been making its way through to Eridani for some time. These converts may already be preparing for their masters’ arrival.

“Your enemies are not the people before you tonight. They are distant, but not too distant. They are invisible, but they are with us. Make no mistake, there is a war coming and it is not one of your choosing.

“Deal with your problems how you see fit. I’m not going to tell you how to do that. But keep in mind that without you, without the Votus-Eridani Network, the Protectorate cannot do what they were mandated to do all those centuries ago. That is why the Protectorate cares about your problems. That is why you are here today, to remember that the Protectorate needs you, as much as you need it. The threats we face today may be the undoing of our society tomorrow.

“Thank you for listening to me, and thank you for your time.”

I stepped away from the podium not to thunderous applause, as the Admiralty had wanted, but to the solemn faces of men and women of power deep in thought. I marched from the stage, and as soon as I was out past the curtain, two large men in suits accosted me. I had expected this, but not quite so soon. Frederick was a paranoid man. He must have posted them here in case I pulled a stunt like this.

They dragged me into a service corridor and roughly pushed me against a wall.

“Wait here,” said one of the thugs.

“Go float yourself, meathead,” I spat.

The man just snarled at me and looked about to strike me, when a door halfway down the corridor burst open and an angry Admiral Stirges strode in.

“Do you have any idea about the shit storm you just brewed up?” he yelled.

“These people have a right to know the truth. You wanted more ships? These people have them. You want them to stop fighting? They have a common enemy.”

“They don’t give a shit about distant aliens!”

“You don’t give a shit, sir. There’s a difference.”

He was pacing back and forth, wringing a table napkin in his hands while his knuckles turned white.

“I knew it was a bad idea to have you get up there. I told Jalabir, but he convinced me to give you a chance. Now, look! How am I supposed to fix this?”

Another voice sounded from down the corridor. “You don’t,” said Admiral Jalabir, “This is the exact reason why we wanted him to speak.”

Stirges almost spat in my face. “We wanted hope and inspiration, not scare tactics and bullshit theories about alien agendas!”

“We wanted a genuine voice showing our benefactors the error of their ways,” said Jalabir, calmly, “I think it was an excellent speech.”

“You do?” I said.

“A little unrefined, but I think you got the message across. Until now, most of them have been getting their intelligence about Gossamer from their own sources. They probably know about the Ghantri already, but so long as they don’t think their political enemies know, they think they can get away from their treaty obligations. Now they all know, and they know everyone else knows. That’s a clear mandate to act.”

“Oh, they’ll still fight each other,” said Stirges, “You’re a fool old man if you think some idiotic speech is going to stop that.”

“No, I agree. But now, they’ll think twice about committing everything they’ve got. You, Mr Donovan, may have just saved millions of lives by putting the brakes on this madness for the time being. You’ve bought us time to resolve the turmoil in Eridani.”

I nodded to Jalabir, casting a nervous glance at Stirges.

“Irib’en, you give this man too much credit,” said Stirges, but most of the steam had gone out of him.

“Nonsense, Fred. You just don’t see far enough ahead in this game. Now, release Mr Donovan and return to the dinner. I highly recommend the ko’del’mar eggs – they are magnificent.”

The Orlii turned about and walked back into the dinner.

Stirges turned to me, anger still clear on his features. He straightened out the dress uniform I wore, but as he did he whispered, “You think you’re something special? Commander?”

“No, sir. Although the Admiral sure thinks I am.”

He pulled down sharply on my jacket, then leant back and regarded me. “He won’t be around to protect you forever. Don’t get too comfortable with your new rank. The moment you’re no use to us, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Very clearly. Better hurry, those eggs sound awfully nice.”

I thought he was going to hit me, but I knew the man was a coward. He thought better of it and turned away. “Get him out of here.”

He then stalked out of the corridor. I smiled at the two goons left with me.

As the first one reached for my arm, I drove my knee straight into his stomach. The second one made to grab at me, but I translated further down the corridor and behind him. He spun about, looking for me. By the time he saw where I was, I had my jacket off and the small laser hidden in my forearm had popped out of its hidden recess. I pointed it at his face as he took a step towards me.

“Uh, uh,” I said.

The first man was doubled over, wheezing for air. The other seemed to struggle with what to do. These men were clearly not chosen for their brains.

“I can find my own way out of here. Why don’t you help your friend out down there?”

He kneeled over his comrade, and I turned and strode off. Before long I was exiting the building through the kitchens, then I found a shuttle to take me back to my apartment. Never did like official dinners, anyway.

22.

The talks went for several weeks. I was not invited to attend any more official events. Instead, I spent my time visiting the docks to oversee the refit. When it came time to refit the engineering spaces, the device we had found attached to the Linus Drives was questioned again. I decided to talk to Admiral Jalabir about it.

“So, you have an untested, unknown piece of alien technology attached to your main propulsion,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “And you want to leave it there?”

“Yes, sir. I think it’s one of their Jump Drives.”

“That’s a big leap of logic.”

“It makes sense, though. When we left Ambrose Station, an enemy warship captain confronted us. When they realised they couldn’t catch us, he blurted out something to do with being banished from the fleet. I don’t think the Restitution was barred from the exodus to the nebula because of technical problems, I think they were left behind for disciplinary reasons or lack of performance. Add this to the report from Captains Cooper and Garner – their encounter with the Calliope Frigate…it’s not so big a leap, sir.”

“Okay, let’s just say for now that I’m willing to entertain the notion. What’s stopping me from tearing it out and learning all I can from it? Wouldn’t that be the more prudent course of action?”

“It would, but I want to make you a deal.”

“A deal? Mr Donovan, we’re not on the frontier here. We’re not businessmen negotiating a bargain.”

“Sorry, sir. Poor choice of words. I want to save you the trouble of reverse engineering the drive and give you the designs already worked out. I can test this one, confirm the designs are sound, and you get to start building your own fleet of Jump capable ships.”

“How do you expect to learn the designs without reverse engineering it?”

“I have a neuro-module pulled from the Sectis we killed. We’ve been trying to break into it for weeks, but we simply don’t have the processing power to do it.”

“If you haven’t gained full access to it yet, how do you know the designs are in there?”

“I’m assuming they are. The Sectis seemed to me to be the brains of the whole Ghantri race. If anyone would have them, it would be them.”

“You know what they say about assumptions, Mr Donovan?”

“Yes, sir. They’re the mother of all screw ups.”

He was silent for a time, deep in thought. I could see he was intrigued.

“How do you intend to fathom their use?” he said finally. The fact he was talking about leaving the drive in the Cruiser was a good sign.

“I know some talented engineers, and I have an exceptional deep space navigation AI that would love the challenge. If you crack that module before I work it out, you can tell me how they work, too.”

“And if they tear your ship apart instead? What then?”

“I’m sure Stirges will have lots of ideas about how to spin that outcome.”

He chuckled. “He would love the opportunity. I have to ask, have you been spying on our strategy meetings?”

“Sir?”

“The Eridanians are all riled up about your revelations last week. They’re calling for action, some way to confirm your claims.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“If you get those Jump Drives to work, you may have just given us the perfect way to find out what the Ghantri are doing in the nebula.”

“I suppose I might have.”

“You sure you haven’t gotten someone to tell you what we’re planning?”

“No, sir. I just know what we need to do.”

He smiled at me, his eyes shifting to the colour of amusement.

“You got yourself a deal, Mr Donovan.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, you have a decision to make.”

“Sir?”

“We can’t keep calling it that Cruiser or your Cruiser. You’re going to have to name it.”

“Yes, sir. I already have a few ideas.”

“Good. I’ll leave it to you. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the Tyrillian ambassador in ten minutes.”

I returned to the docks to give the team the good news, then stayed on for several hours going over the plans. There was still a lot of work to do, and I was itching to get back out into open space. I also had crew dossiers to read up on, progress reports to write, procurement meetings to get materials for our manufactories and munitions, training schedules to review and a girlfriend to take to dinner.

Over our meal, I spoke at length about my plans. She listened intently, but I could tell she was getting bored of it all. She was a tinkerer, not a planner, strategy was not as important as a puzzle to her. I asked her about the possibilities of long-term deployment in deep space, she simply shrugged.

“It’s not too different to long term near space deployments, to be honest. We’ve been on one long deployment since last year. Since Corus Cluster.”

“True, but this time there’s no way we can contact anyone if we need help.”

She chuckled. “Still sounds the same.”

“So it doesn’t bother you?”

“It sounds interesting. I’ll probably get bored once we’re out there, but so long as there’s something for me to do and I’m close to you, I should be fine.”

“I want the Dreaming with us too.”

She leant back in her chair. “How do you expect to sell that to Max? And for what purpose?”

“Linus Drives require helium-3. Chances are, we’ll be travelling to dozens of unexplored star systems. Not all of which will have gas giants we can farm and I don’t want to waste time mining regolith from random planets and asteroids. Once we arrive in a system, I don’t want to burn all my fuel searching for the Ghantri. We can ration our fuel, but if there are no gas giants to farm when we get to a system…”

“There’s a good chance we’ll end up being stranded,” she said, nodding, “Or spend weeks digging through the upper crust of planetoids. The Dreaming uses hydrogen in her Ion Drives.”

“You paid attention!” I said, smiling, “You weren’t just staring into my dreamy eyes when I took you through the engineering spaces.”

She thumped my arm. “So how are we going to get the Jump Drives to work on the Dreaming as well? Tow it?”

“Nope. I’ve replaced the cargo hold as part of the refit. It’s now a hangar bay. It’s just big enough for the Dreaming to slide into.”

“And if Maxine says no?”

“Come on,” I said, still smiling, “It’s me!”

23.

“No. Absolutely not,” said Max, arms folded under her bosom.

“What? Why not?” I said.

“You want me to join you on some fool quest to find the Ghantri gods?”

“Not exactly, but close enough.”

“No.”

“Why not? This is the grandest of adventures I’m offering you. True explorers of the galaxy! Think! They could name a star system after you!”

“Where’s the profit to be had in that? Sounds like a whole galaxy of danger for very little gain. I understand why you need to go do it, but the Dreaming does not need to go on a military, or exploration, mission. We’re sticking to safe, profitable courier runs for a while.”

“You want profit? How does surveying sound?”

She blinked. “I don’t follow you.”

“Think about this. If we get this technology working, it’s going to revolutionise space travel. The moment a Corporation gets their hands on a working Jump Drive, they’ll zip out to all the nearest mineral rich star systems and start staking claims.”

She looked at me for a while, pondering what I had just said. I took a sip of the wine I had bought us, which we were sharing on the balcony of our apartment.

“You think I could stake claims?” she said after a while, “The Corporations would lawyer up in an instant.”

“Perhaps, but you’ll have done the surveying for them. You could just about name your price. Why send ships out to random star systems with the hope they will strike it rich when you can just send ships directly to where the money already is. You can save them millions in surveying costs, transportation, time. Time is money to the Corporations.”

She swore under her breath, while she reached for her glass. “So you think I could tag along and take notes on the star systems we hit? Sell it back to whoever pays the most?”

“Sounds like easy money.”

“Bullshit. So you think you know why I would want the Dreaming there, but why do you?”

“Can’t a man just want what’s best for his family?”

“I know you, Donny. You are your father’s son, through and through. You’re a sly bastard, smart even. But I raised you, remember that. What’s the real reason you want the Dreaming with you? Don’t give me that line about saving fuel, either.”

I thought about it hard, for a while. “You told me once that I was the heart of the Dreaming, whether I believed it or not. The reverse is true as well. I miss you guys. I miss the ship. This Cruiser is a tool, a vessel to get us to the stars, but the Dreaming is my heart. You and Zoe…the guys…”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, smiling, “I’m getting all misty over here.”

She rubbed her eyes, which were starting to tear up.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be away,” I said, “but I won’t care so long as everything I hold dear is close to me. The Inner System worlds are going to poo, there’s nothing I can do to stop that. If I know you’re safe, if you’re with me, it will be one less worry I have to deal with. I can use you, I can use the Dreaming. At the same time, I can give the family business a head start.”

I looked her in the eyes while I spoke. She listened, then nodded her head.

“Alright. I’ll talk to the crew. Put it to them. It does sound lucrative, I’ll give you that.”

“You’ll be drafted as civilian contractors. Hell, I bet the Protectorate will probably have to pay you a retainer.”

“Now there’s a good idea. A running tab with the Protectorate. About bloody time they started paying us for doing their job.”

“Hey now, I bought you that wine, didn’t I?”

“I’m a sovereign nation now, my boy. My rates have gone up!”

“Something harder then? Whisky?”

“You know I like my liquor how I like my men!”

“Max! Too much information!”

I raced to the bar and grabbed a bottle of something strong, along with two glass tumblers. As I poured a few fingers in each glass, I could see Max tapping her chin – she often did that when hatching a plan.

“Okay, so we ride your Cruiser off into the great unknown. You park your barge someplace safe and the Dreaming does some scouting. What happens if we stumble across the Ghantri? Or worse, the Destroyers?”

“We get out. Finding them is no use unless we get that information back to Protectorate Command. We’re not interested in prolonged space battles, but if we can manage it, find out the extent of their infrastructure. Locate shipyards or planetary strongholds.”

“Will there be any ground missions?”

“Maybe. Depends.”

“On?”

“On what we find. We may even find habitable planets or inhabited planets. It would be a wasted opportunity if we don’t make contact with any indigenous life. Maybe, they could tell us about our quarry.”

“What about the chain of command? How’s that going to look?”

“You’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have. You were my mentor for most of my life, Max. I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“So I’m in charge?” she said, one eyebrow raised to match her lopsided grin.

“Ha. I wouldn’t go that far. How about a shared arrangement? I’ll follow your lead on the Dreaming, as always. On the Cruiser, you defer to my judgement.”

“You’re going to have to pick a name for her soon, you realise that? It’s getting a bit old referring to it as the Cruiser.”

“I’m waiting for the right amount of inspiration to strike me.”

“Procrastinating, you mean? You always put off tough decisions for too long, Donny. Just like Caster.”

“What tough decisions did dad ever have to make?”

She stopped smiling. “Your mother.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

“You know, Osiris Blackburn told me he knew my mother. He knew old man Hieron, too.”

“I knew your grandpa and him had some history, it doesn’t surprise me he knew your black-hearted mother as well. For completely different reasons too, I bet.”

“He never told me, just dropped it during conversation.”

“Don’t you go wasting your time getting your mind all twisted up thinking about that woman. She’s no good, Seth.”

“I know, you’ve all told me. You and Eric did a fine job making sure I never liked her or the things she did.”

She softened a little, reaching across the table to rub my hand. “I’m sorry, Donny. I know it seems cruel, not knowing your own mother, but she abandoned you. She was more interested in controlling things than loving them.”

We sat in silence for a while, sipping our drink.

“So,” I started, “the Votus?”

“Hm, hmm?”

“Has he really fit in with the crew? He seemed so stuffy when we first met him.”

“He’s a know-it-all, and takes things a little too literally, but we got through some shit together. We respect each other. The cat’s a fantastic shot with the beamer, too.”

“That was him on Ambrose Station?”

She nodded.

“How did you know we were in trouble?”

“We saw the destruction of the university and investigated. When we saw a large band of marauders break away from the main body, we followed. Took us a long time to get into position. Firing into an atmosphere does terrible things to your aim. Mel worked furiously to get the maths right to make sure that the shot wasn’t refracted in the wrong direction. Would have been a hell of an anti-climax if he was a fraction of a degree out.”

“I really thought we were dead, then. I was completely out of options.”

“I see now why you wanted us on this journey of yours. You need someone to pull you out of the fire when things get too hot.”

I nodded, raising my glass. “That, and I need someone who can pull my head out of my own arse from time to time.”

She smiled and raise her own glass. “To pulling heads out of arses!”

It wasn’t long before we were drunk and toasting our new partnership. Well, I was drunk. I was pretty sure Maxine was just happy.

24.

By the time that our second month on Collumus Station came around, enough of the Cruiser’s interior had been overhauled for more specialised upgrades to begin. We pulled out most of the junk equipment manufactured by the Ghantri, the stuff not designed for that class of ship, and started installing modern equipment. When I asked Admiral Jalabir about the cost of these modifications, he simply smiled and mentioned the value that I brought to the organisation. I argued that wasn’t a franchise that would make the Protectorate money, but he disagreed. They’d already pimped my image out to several sponsors across the Network.

I really was their poster boy. Literally.

“Consider it a small price to pay for the good you’ll be able to do,” he’d said, “Recruitment into the Protectorate is at a twenty-year high, thanks to your story. Let’s not mention the effect your speech has had on the delegates from our talks.”

I had left Jalabir’s office in a huff, although looking back on it I admit that I was simply acting on impulse. If my image was making the Network a safer place, then I couldn’t fault the Protectorate for what they did with it.

Jalabir also pulled some strings for us, although I was betting that he didn’t have to tug on them too hard. When the engineering spaces were safe for regular crew to work in, a team of scientists arrived at the station to help study the Jump Drive. The lead scientist, a mean-faced man of unkempt appearance named Isidro Gaston, began to make working in the engineering spaces something the crew lamented. He intimidated the other scientists and insulted the crew when they got in his way. He offered no suffix to his name and offered no titles beyond Professor. Even Zoe found him a rude tutor, with little patience for laymen.

I decided to have words with him, but found him a difficult man to corner, blustering his way and shunting others from his workspace. He was one of the last scientists to arrive, automatically assuming leadership of the team without even introducing himself to me. I decided to play him straight. If he could get the elusive Jump Drive functional, I’ll forgive him his eccentricity. However, if we were to work together, I had to know what measure of man he was. I was also curious as hell to find out what the Jump Drive could do.

So, I studied up on the man.

Turned out, he was a bonafide rock star of Jump Gate technology. Known across several Networks, he was intimately involved in the construction and entanglement of sister Gates. He had also published several papers on dimensional theory, often disparaging rival minds in the industry. I found a holo-recording of him arguing with a trio of Votus scientists during one of his infamous public outbursts. The man had pissed off and stared down Corporations, governments and institutes alike. He made my parlay with the Sectis on Ambrose seem like pillow talk.

It became clear to me that if I did nothing to reign this guy in, he’d run roughshod over my entire team. I needed him to play nice.

“Professor,” I said, a week after he began his reign of terror, “I’d like to go over a few things with you. As soon as possible.”

“You can book an appointment with my assistant,” he said, dismissively, “just like everyone else, Commander.”

He waved me away and turned back to his work. When I didn’t leave, he stopped what he was doing and turned to face me, hands on hips.

“Is there a problem? Did I use too many big words?”

“Not at all, Professor Gaston, I merely…”

“I’m a busy man,” he interrupted, “If you have a message for me, you can submit it through the ordinary channels. I’m not here to inflate your ego, I’m here to do science. Ground-breaking science, I might add.”

“I understand why you’re here, I just want to make sure you do, too.”

“Let’s just pretend that you’ve said your piece and that I’ve said whatever I’m required to say to make you go away and call it a good chat. Hmm?”

“I’d rather we work together…”

“Oh, really? Have you a Doctorate in Applied Cosmology? Perhaps Quantum String Laws are your speciality? Written some papers on nth Dimensional Relativity? No?”

“Not exactly…”

“Forgive me, Commander, if I seem blunt. I work with peers. You, sir, are most definitely not my peer…”

“That’s correct, Gaston. I’m your employer.”

He pulled up short, puffing the air out of his cheeks. Before he could continue his rant, I carried on.

“This project, that is absorbing what I can only guess is your vast intellect, belongs to me, Professor. So if you want to be involved in this ground-breaking opportunity I’m offering you’re going to have to check your ego.”

He folded his arms and regarded me from along the length of his nose, a snarl on his lips.

“You don’t think that you need me.”

“You think you’re the only one that can crack this,” I gestured to the mass of electronics and esoteric devices strewn about the engineering space.

“Are we going to stand here all day and trade accusations at each other?”

“I’m concerned that you’re not a team player. That your presence here is more disruptive than it is constructive.”

“And so what if it is? You think I came all this way for you? You’re wrong.”

“Why did you come here, then?”

He regarded me once more, then seemed to come to some sort of decision.

“I can see that there is no easy way to be rid of you. Very well. What would you have of me, Commander? What whim do you wish me to pander to today?”

“I simply wish to know whether the attitude, the vibe that I’m getting off you is worth the hassle. Every crewmember that you insult or berate answers to me. I’m responsible for them.”

“You’re here because I hurt someone’s feelings?”

“We’re a team, Professor. That means morale is a key factor in motivating these people to do their jobs. They’re all volunteers – they want to be here. If you change that, we’re going to have problems.”

“And you think they should be my problems?”

“Put it this way – if I have to choose between you or one of my crew, guess which way I’m going to swing?”

He rubbed his stubbled chin. “Very well, I see your point. Tell your crew to stay out of my way and I’ll not be forced to vent my frustration out on them.”

“They have jobs to do. Important jobs.”

“As important as getting this damn machine to work?”

It was my turn to concede. “I’ve come down here to talk to you, rather than issue ultimatums. I want you to succeed, but I also want my crew to be able to do their jobs. I see no reason why those two have to be mutually exclusive.”

“A compromise, then?”

“If it can be agreed upon.”

He sized me up, then, regarding me from head to toe. “You’re not the usual meathead the Admiral foists upon me, are you? Most people would have wilted under my tirade by now, but you’ve stood your ground.”

“The worst you can do to me is yell in my face. I’m used to people trying to tear my guts out of my abdomen instead of trading words with me.”

He barked out a laugh. “I forget. You’re the Protectorate’s hero of the month.”

It was my turn to look frustrated. “I’m not here for glory, I’m here to get the job done.”

He was still grinning. “And you don’t care if you piss off the brass or the politicians to get it done, do you?”

“No, sir.”

“I can respect that. I heard your speech at the talks the other week. Something tells me that wasn’t the agreed upon story.”

“I get the impression you care little about what others think of you, as well.”

He gave me a proud look. “Some people will never like me, and I will never give two shits about it.”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to make sure the Ghantri don’t kill millions of people. I’m hoping our goals can coexist. I may even be able to help you, education aside. I have a few unique experiences that may prove insightful to this project.”

“Oh?”

“What do you know about portable Jump Gates?”

“Bullshit. That’s just Corporate fear-mongering. Such a thing would be incredibly expensive, requiring millions of finely tuned nanites to generate the right conditions for an event horizon to form. You’re talking about resources that would bankrupt entire worlds, just to piece together a prototype pair. Resources that would better be spent on a faster starship.”

“I’m sending you a data cache. It might not be much, but if it can shed some light on how this drive works, it’s yours.”

I sent him the data package – my nanite implant data from when I interfaced with the portable Jump Gate on Ambrose. His gaze took on a distant focus, as he scanned the information unfolding on his interface overlay. His demeanour shifted immediately.

“This…this is…”

“I also still have the original frame,” I said, handing him Artemis’ case. It’s inoperable, of course, but I’m betting you’ll find some similarities between the technology and this Drive.”

He was nodding to himself, his fingers tracing patterns in the air before him. His mouth was working, muttering equations and algorithms.

“I’ll work the night shifts,” he said, “minimising my…exposure to the crew. I can be an arse, but I’ve waited my entire life for this kind of opportunity and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you give the credit to one of these foppish grad students the Admiral has leashed me to.”

“Are the other scientists necessary to your work?”

“To be honest, I waste time trying to find meaningful work for them. All I need is one or two skilled individuals and I can work far more efficiently.”

“I have a top-of-the-line mobile Veng AI I can lend you if that would be better?”

“Infinitely.”

“I’ll send him down…tonight?”

“I’ve misjudged you, Commander.”

“Happens a lot. I count on it in order to defeat my enemies.”

He held out his hand, I took it. “And I am no longer your enemy.”

25.

As the peace talks wrapped up over the next few days I learned that my speech, or perhaps common sense, had swayed a few of the minds that ran this part of the galaxy. The Protectorate mediators and negotiators had managed to wring a pledge from most of the parties involved in the strife plaguing Eridani. Peace was not on the table, the negotiators were not that naïve, but the knowledge that at any time an invasion could catch the authorities with their proverbial pants down was enough to kerb some of their enthusiasm.

A few key articles were agreed upon. Chiefly, the reinstating of the Protectorate Fleet. How they managed that, I may never know. The biggest hurdle to getting the Esper Monarchy and the Tyrillian governments to honour their treaties was the fact that DonCrest had hired hundreds of mercenary companies to protect their interests. Another obstacle was the state of the Tyrillian government – representatives from Landford made up the majority of the dignitaries from the planet, but they were not the only ones to attend. The Ressh, previously considered nothing more than isolationist terrorists, had gained enough authority on one of the continents to be officially recognised as a political entity. The Ressh publically stated they were not signatories of Votus-Eridani Treaties with the Protectorate, and held no obligation to provide military assistance.

After several days of delicate negotiations, the Protectorate publically recognised the party, although it cost them some sway with the official rulers of Tyrillia – the Landford government. The Esper Monarchy were not too impressed either, as they believed that the Ressh were behind the assassination of their Monarch. The Ressh, naturally, pointed the finger at Landford and cited the convenience to Landford if the Espers attacked the smaller nation on Tyrillia. The DonCrest Corporation, originally thought to be behind the regicide, claimed grievance against all parties as they were, after all, innocently attacked in retaliation by the Esper Royalists.

In return for recognising the Ressh, the troublesome fledgeling government agreed to a cessation of attacks against Landford interests and would be allowed to police its own area of influence. They were also to become signatories to the Votus-Eridani Treaties.

This, in turn, allowed the Tyrillian planetary council to approve the return of several key assets to Protectorate command. The Royalists, promised a lifting of the embargo by DonCrest, could also free up resources used to strong arm their way through blockades or defend against isolationist attacks. DonCrest, on the other hand, had no such obligations to provide vessels or troops to the Protectorate but offered to pay out many mercenary contracts and release them from the Corporate war machine.

All up, the Protectorate were fairly chuffed with themselves.

The final caveat with this tenuous agreement was that it all hung on the status of the Ghantri invasion. The Protectorate had to provide proof of the threat, undeniable and tangible proof, and present a defence strategy to the Eridani governments.

There were no illusions that if such proof were not presented in a timely manner, then the various factions would return to their endless bickering and fighting. Nor were they naïve enough to assume that covert operations would cease, either. Schemers would continue to scheme and shadow plays would continue to unfold, but everyone agreed that committing themselves to a military campaign would be foolish in light of impending invasion. It was also hard to deny the testimonies of so many refugees – that alone gave them pause.

So, as Admiral Jalabir prophesied, a clear objective was decided upon. An exploration of the Ar’od Dar nebula – a distant blur to the naked eye from Eridani. The powers in the system were overjoyed at the choice of agent for this role – the most successful man ever to go against the Ghantri threat, the pinnacle of Protectorate hopes and ideals. Never mind that I was just a man, the Protectorate blew my image out of proportion. My exploits were exaggerated by spin doctors and public relations gurus paid for by Protectorate credits. Unwillingly, I became larger than life itself.

The way they spoke about me to the media, one could be excused for thinking they were sending me off to deal with the threat single-handedly. I began to suspect that this was exactly what they hoped I would do.

Wheels within wheels, the Protectorate Admiralty had agendas of their own. Those men and women who reached the heights of Admiral were more politicians than strategist, although they were shrewd and cunning all. I had already made an enemy of Stirges but knew that I was not so popular with the others. Irib’en Jalabir seemed to have taken me under his wing, for now, providing a measure of protection against the machinations of the others. His patronage was not without strings, I had to periodically voice my opinions of various Protectorate agendas and policies – opinions that were carefully constructed by the Admiral and his people. I began to despise seeing my image broadcast on mainstream media, my smile faked and my words not my own. People I interacted with from the broader public would often quote the various mottos and slogans I was forced to utter, I had to fight the urge to cringe each time I heard them.

We had stayed at Collumus Station for several months, but eventually, our shakedown cruise was due. It was time to test the newly refitted ship, time to work out how these Jump Drives worked. Time to name my new ship.

It was a short, personal ceremony when we launched the Cruiser. Maxine and the gang, along with the new crew, were present. Admiral Jalabir and a couple of media people rounded out the number.

I stood on a podium before the bow, thanked everyone for their attendance, and cleared my throat.

“It isn’t every day that someone gets a second chance to fix something that had gone wrong in their life. For some, it’s an apology for harsh words, or an opportunity to pay something back that was taken. For me, it was believing in something that I know now was a mistake.

“Years ago, I rode an assault shuttle down to Ambrose Station thinking I was unstoppable. I bought into the hype and propaganda that our chain of command rammed down our throats – I ate it up. As a Primacy Star Marine, I had the best training the Network had to offer. The finest tactical training, the best equipment and the will to use it. It was an underestimation of our enemy that brought all that to a halt.

“The consequences of that failure were far reaching. Many of you here today are very familiar with those consequences, for they were your daily struggles for the past nine years.

“But I recently received a second chance to make things right, to set the balance even. It took the death of a dearly beloved friend to show me that opportunity, so it was vitally important to me that I did it right this time around.

“This ship, it represents a chance encounter that ended up being the instrument of our salvation – the escape from a dangerous place and the redemption of my past. Within this ship, thousands of refugees, many of whom signed on as my new crew, were able to leave the Gossamer System for good. We stole it from the galaxy’s biggest thieves, you could say.

“So a ship such as this needs a name that says all these things, as well as the future that this ship represents for us. I won’t keep you here long, I know how busy you all are. So without further ado, I present to you – the Restitution.

I signalled to Kekkin, standing over by a control panel. He pressed a button and several spotlights lit up sequentially along the broadside of the ship, showing the finished Cruiser in all her glory.

I turned back to the crowd as the applause started, smiled for the holo-recorders, and made to step back from the podium. A bright flash caught my eye, but I never had the chance to realise what it was.

A strange sensation came over me and strange noises filled my ears. I felt this hollowness and disconnect with reality. For some reason, I was on my back and people were trying to fuss over me. Their faces and voices unknowable, a ringing in my ears drowning out all other sounds. With fading clarity, I noted that a rather large hole had been punched through my chest, my fingers brushing the burnt edges of puckered flesh where my sternum once was. I somehow remember muttering a single word before losing consciousness.

“Damn.”

26.

A coma is a strange place to exist. One never knows if you are real, or if anything is real. You don’t remember anything about your life before the coma and are incapable of existing in anything remotely resembling the present. My subconscious, my damaged psyche, was given free reign. I was completely at its mercy.

My nightmares had been mild, since escaping the Gossamer System, but now they returned in full swing. I replayed every decision I had ever made, refought every battle ever fought, and lost time and time again. These were not like the usual post-op nightmares; they seemed so real as if I really was there. I had no recollection of their resemblance to past experiences but knew that they were familiar, regardless. The ever-present sea of data, my constant companion, flowed at my feet through each encounter, dragging me down.

Each time I endured these conflicts, they ended the same. A single flash, a light, and a bullet hole in the chest. They all led to my death.

I spent an eternity in this darkness, this limbo. I know now that I came close to death many times, but was never aware of my condition until I awoke.

Pain, mercifully absent for the aeons I drifted in torpor, spread about my perception like liquid fire. I welcomed it, the first physical sensations I had felt for a long time. A quickening of my senses revealed that I was in a bed, the sounds of medical sensors faintly beeping and buzzing.

“Apologies for waking you early,” said a distantly familiar tone, “But my experts tell me you’ll wake naturally tomorrow morning anyway, and I want some alone time with you before then. Don’t worry, I’ve blanked your monitoring equipment so your minders won’t be disturbed.”

I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were made of stone.

“Relax, son,” said the voice again, “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to return a favour. When you’re well, you’re going to want revenge – against me, against the Ghantri, and against those who did this to you. I’m hoping you’ll be a worthy opponent, just like your grandfather was, so I’m giving you the chance to prove it. I wasn’t the orchestrator behind this attack, but I know who was.”

I felt a cool metal device pressed to my temple and a data file began to appear in my dormant overlay. I hadn’t even accepted the transfer, it just appeared.

“Follow this account. Follow the credits.”

Just like that, the voice was gone, with it the chemicals used to wake me up. In moments, I felt the irresistible pull of the coma once more.

I awoke, the memory of the encounter evaporating like smoke as I tried desperately to remember the import of the words. Thankfully, I had long since started keeping a dream journal on the advice of Zoe while she treated me. I dumped what I could remember into my journal file, solidifying it in my memory.

“Osiris,” I murmured.

I felt cool hands grip mine and sighs of relief from multiple sources around me. A quiet, yet welcome voice to my left cooed to me.

“Don’t get up, love, you’re safe,” said Zoe.

“Osiris,” I croaked on a dry throat. A tube was pressed to my parched lips and cool moisture trickled into my mouth. All too soon it was pulled away, a few drops trailed down my chin.

“You’re safe, Donny,” said Max, “He can’t hurt you here. We’re going to find him.”

“No…he was here.”

A gravelly growl sounded from the foot of my bed. “He’s delirious.”

“He’s just woken up from a coma, Hieron, give him a break,” said Max.

“Osiris was here. Told me it wasn’t him,” I said, opening my eyes. The light was bright, I had to squint against the pain it caused.

“What are you saying, boy?” said an ancient figure standing before me. It took me several moments to realise who it was.

“Hieron?” I said.

“In the flesh!” he said, striking a heroic pose he often did when I was a boy.

Old man Hieron Donovan – my grandfather – was the oldest man I knew. His biological age was almost two hundred years, but his chronological age was…I don’t even know. At least twice this number. I think. He tells a lot of tall tales, so it’s hard to know where the stories end and reality begins. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story, he was famous for saying. He ruled the Dreaming of Atmosphere for the longest period of its storied history, his name firmly embedded in the annals of the Votus-Eridani Network. He had plied his trade as a bounty hunter, mercenary, courier, trader and information broker at one time or another. Since his retirement shortly after handing the Dreaming over to my late father, he had sequestered himself on the tropical ocean world of Oceania in the Votus II System – a six-month journey.

“How…how long have I…”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Zoe, rubbing my forearm, “What matters is that you get well.”

“What happened?”

“Assassin,” barked old man Hieron.

“What?”

“You were shot by a sniper,” explained Max, “during the launching ceremony.”

As my vision regained a semblance of clarity, I was able to make out other details of the room. An unknown man stood apart, his attention on a tablet held before him. Max noticed my gaze and gestured to him.

“This is Doctor Pierce, the Protectorate’s resident cybernetics and medical expert.”

The man looked up from his tablet, gave me a forced smile and nodded. “You’re a lucky man, Mr Donovan. Your subdermal thoracic plating absorbed the majority of the blast. The remaining energy discharge resulted in significant resection of your ribcage and surrounding tissue, and only partially damaged the myocardium wall. However, the risk of myocardial infarction, and subsequent congestive heart failure was too great. We performed a cardio-resection and installed a Human Industries 5258 Core. This model is well documented as a myocardium alternative and offers improved stability and longevity…”

“Hold on, what?” I said.

Zoe squeezed my hand and gave me a weak smile. Her red-rimmed eyes, tired from lack of sleep, were welling with tears. “He means we had to replace your heart.”

“…and your synthetic lung. Might I say, the condition of the lung prior to these injuries tells me you have not kept up with prescribed supplemental…”

“Doctor,” snapped Max, “Shut up.”

He closed his mouth and did his best to look offended. My grandfather chuckled.

“I lost my heart?” I stammered.

Zoe knew how I felt about my cybernetics, and the look of grief she gave me told me she understood the pain I was going through. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I was in a coma? How long” I asked.

She nodded. “You needed time for your injuries to heal, for the cybernetics and bio-augs to take. You’ve been out for eighty-two days.”

“Three months?”

“It was touch and go for a while. There were progressive surgeries for the first three weeks, just to keep you alive. We did the best we could to save your heart, but Dr Pierce is right, there was simply too high a risk of problems down the line. The cyber-heart is a stronger alternative to a bio-Aug replacement, and since it was on Protectorate financing, we went with top-of-the-line. The bio-lung we had to regrow. I worked with the medical ward here for several weeks getting the mix right, we had to make sure the damage to the lung prior to the attack was not suggestive of DNA mandated failures…”

“Wha…what damage?” I stammered.

“We think it might have been spores from Ambrose Station,” she said.

“Or the Restitution,” said Hieron, “Martine Lenser had the ship quarantined and the refugees had to be screened, but they turned up nothing. Probably a grub disease you picked up killing the bastards.”

“Grub disease?” I must have sounded like a simpleton, repeating back what they told me. My mind was still recovering from the deep sleep I had been in, for three months.

Max held my other hand and gave it a squeeze as well. “You gave us all quite the scare, Donny. Old man Hieron just made the Eridani System last week.”

“Came to visit as soon as I saw all the fuss these Protectorate do-gooders were making about you,” he said, smiling through his bushy grey beard, “Thought I’d come talk some sense into you and congratulate the young lass on paying off my dad’s ship. Looks like I got here just in time. You say Osiris Blackburn did this, I’ll shake off my thud gun and hunt the bastard down…”

“It wasn’t Osiris,” I interrupted, “He woke me up last night and gave me some information. Said it wasn’t him, that I should follow the credits.”

“He was here?” said Zoe, her mouth agape.

“He said he was paying back a favour. Probably for…” I paused, looking to Hieron.

“It’s okay, boy,” he nodded to Maxine, “the lass told me all about your last job.”

“I didn’t know you two were old enemies.”

“I’m old. He’s young. Just one of my loose ends is all.”

“I’m going to find him one day,” I started.

“I used to say that too, lad. Truth is, he was good for the Network, back in the day. Brought some stability to the region. I could always count on crooks behaving themselves a little when he was in charge. I never really intended to catch him in the end, just make things harder for him.”

“He left us in a tight place, on Ambrose Station. A lot of good people died because of him.”

“Yeah. He is an arsehole, but he’s a necessary evil. If he’s back in power, it can only mean better things for the Votus-Eridani Network. They don’t make villains like him anymore.”

“You condone him?” I said, surprised.

“No. Catch him if you can, but don’t ruin your life doing so. Don’t let it eat you up if the bastard gives you the slip. Sounds like you have bigger problems, anyway. You really have a Jump Drive? Like them Destroyers?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“And these Protectorate patsies want you to go lose it chasing after these grubs?”

“A necessary evil, I’m afraid.”

He laughed again, “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Bubbles?”

Maxine’s face went bright red. “Hieron. Please.”

“Bubbles?” I asked. Even Zoe started to grin.

“Long story. Old story. One we will not be revisiting, understood?” she directed this last at Hieron, who simply started chuckling.

27.

It was good having old man Hieron around. When the others left to sleep, he stayed behind and kept me company. Maybe he hoped Osiris would pay me another visit and he could finally catch the man. My grandfather regaled me with his usual plethora of stories – fisticuffs with the locals on Oceania, libellous or lewd encounters with tourists in his bar, gambling winnings fleeced from wealthy visitors or the latest art pieces he bought for a bargain. I didn’t mind. I’d always had a soft spot for old man Hieron – the last living Donovan besides me.

I told him about Eric’s death and my efforts to making his passing count. He told me he was proud, approving of the sending-off I had given his coffin.

“I think I’d like something similar when I finally shake off the mortal coil,” he mused, “Think I’ll head on out to Vanhoeven System. Get the boys there to chuck me into the blackhole those Votus are studying.”

“The way I’m going, it should be me telling you how I want to go out. You’re going to outlive most of us here,” I said.

“Nonsense. You’ll get well, and these clone organs get real tiresome after a few decades. Not the same as the original meat, you know?”

“Thinking of letting nature finally run its course?”

“Madeline wouldn’t let me. She wants at least as long as the first wife out of me before she moves on.”

“How is my step-grandmother?”

“Don’t you let her hear you call her that. She’s younger than Maxine. She’s on Yggrest for a while, one of those rejuvenation clinics. Got her hooked on the bloody things.”

“You can’t complain, you’ve used them for decades!”

“Yeah, but each time I do it takes a sizable chunk out of my retirement fund. I may be a wealthy bastard, but I’m no Corporate wanker.”

“Keeps her looking saucy, though, right?” I said, giving him a sly grin.

“The older you get, lad, the more that doesn’t matter. What you need is a good woman. Looks fade, skin sags, and the body withers, but the mind and the soul stay the same. That lass you’re shacked up with? Zoe? She’s a keeper. Smart, motivated and she cares for you a great deal.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely been there for me.”

“You should marry her, then.”

“Gramps!”

“What? Are you just going to drag it out? Civil union isn’t the sanctimonious trite it used to be. It’s just a legal agreement between two or more people who want to spend some time together. It protects you both, in case something happens. Makes sense. Sign her up.”

“Because you’ve been so successful with your civil unions?”

“Almost all of them have been amicable separations. Besides, she’s not your first union.”

He was right. In my early twenties, straight out of Star Marine boot camp, I’d entered into a civil union with a girl I had met on Kanto Moon. A civilian administrator that I had a thing for whilst I was posted there. It didn’t last – as soon as I started deploying to other star systems the time dilation effects made the relationship pointless. We spent over two years apart, through different deployments, and when we finally met up again it became clear to both of us that we had moved on as people. Last I heard, over eight years ago now, she was a commodities trader on a station in the Harakiwa System still.

Hieron gave me a prod and laughed. “I can see you’re thinking about it. Soon as you’re on your feet you should ask her.”

“Why wait?” I said, smiling.

“A man should be able to walk before he can kneel. Don’t screw this up. It’s all about the delivery, lad.”

“Any tips?”

“Make sure most of your wealth is in untraceable accounts, and get a prenuptial before signing anything.”

“You’re hopeless. I meant about asking her.”

“Oh. Can’t help you there. Man needs to speak from the heart, she’ll hear that and respond. I can help you out with the set-up, but the words, the ideas – they got to come from you.”

“How did dad do it?”

His face went dark, whether it was from the pain of losing a son or the memory of the damage my mother had done, I didn’t ask. I winced and apologised immediately.

“No, it’s alright, lad. Castor wasn’t as smart as you. Didn’t do subtle real well. Thought with his heart too often, instead of his head. He meant well, but…”

“It’s what got him killed, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t elaborate. We remained in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought.

“Eric had a woman, you know?” he said, finally.

“No, I did not.”

“She passed away before you were born, but she was a sweet lass. How about I tell you how he popped the question?”

“Sure. I’d love to hear it.”

“We were shipping ores from Iadon to Rasp, a sweet deal we wrangled from the Outer Harakiwa Station officials. That’s where we picked up that pallet of Archenfold bobbleheads that nobody could ever move from the cargo hold…”

“Actually, I did manage to offload that pallet – a black marketeer on Eridani Station in Gossamer wanted it.”

“No kidding?” he looked surprised, “I thought they were junk! Anyway, there’s this famous bar on the Station – the Boche and Teris Bar. Some two-bit outlaw Captain met his end there, years ago, in a fancy duel with a local hero. Eric and his belle had a thing for the theatrical back then, staged a mock re-enactment of the duel with an actor and dedicated his victory to her. Popped the question there and then, sweat soaked and breathless.”

“Did she join the crew?”

“Didn’t get the chance. We did that run for a few years, slowly chipping away at our latest upgrade debt. She got some exotic illness, passed away on the trip back to Kanto Prime for treatment. Out of respect for Eric, we decided to head to Eridani for a while and earn in some other region. The rest of us didn’t mind, the run was getting a bit stale, anyway. Ended up doing a spot of mercenary work – security detail for a few rich families trying to set up a dynasty.”

“What do you think about my current job?”

His bushy eyebrows raised, he put his hands on his hips and looked about to launch into some sort of lecture. Then, as if remembering that I was hospital bound and only just recovering from major surgery, he softened.

“The Galactic Protectorate ain’t what they were in my day. I’ll admit, I haven’t kept tabs on the current political scene or the state of the Inner System worlds. Never did like a man in uniform. Too many of ‘em have a stick up their arse. If it takes a Donovan to sort their shit out, then it’s a Donovan they’ll get.”

“You know this means I’ll probably never end up Captain of the Dreaming. They’ve given me my own capital ship, with the power to write my own missions, within reason.”

“So I hear, along with this crazy plan to stuff the Dreaming into its hold. Don’t sweat it, kid. Maxine’s well and truly attached to her and she’s family as far as I’m concerned. Just hope she passes it along to someone as worthy as her.”

“I trust her. I know you do, too.”

We were silent for a few minutes, the sound of my monitoring equipment beeping softly. Eventually, Hieron broke the silence.

“You think this whole grub story is legit? It’s not just some scare mongering by the media Corporations?”

“It’s legit,” I said, “The Ghantri have been a thorn in my side for years. Just when I finally thought I was done with them, I find out the real threat they pose. And we’re lightyears away from stopping them.”

“The Destroyers have been gone a long time, lad. Chances are, they’re nothing but dust and debris.”

“If there’s even a remote chance that the Ghantri will find the ghru and bring them here, don’t you think the smart thing would be to try and stop them?”

He nodded his head. “But how? We don’t even know where they are.”

“That’s why I got to take this job. We have to start looking somewhere, and as luck would have it, we have a ship that can take us there.”

“If you can get this damn Jump Drive to work.”

“One foot in front of the other.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That Gaston is a right bastard, you know that?”

It was my turn to laugh. “You’ve met the Professor?”

“Met your whole crew. They’re a ragtag bunch, I’ll give them that. Where did you find such characters?”

“Most of them were refugee’s that I rescued from Ambrose Station. When they heard I was going to find permanent crew for the Restitution, they signed up right away.”

“It’s dicey, kid. A lot of inexperienced people.”

“They’re resourceful, intelligent, and courageous as hell. They don’t buckle under pressure, they’re not afraid of hardship and they’re loyal.”

“Easy, kid. I didn’t say they were shit spacers, just a little green.”

“I made sure that my officers were experienced, and any senior positions I filled were crewed by people I knew could handle the job. My First Officer…”

“Mmm, Martine Lenser. Now there’s a lady that catches my eye…”

“Grandpa!”

“I’m just saying! Long voyages are always better when the crew is pleasing to the eye.”

“Lenser has my respect, you dirty old man, that’s why she’s my First Officer.”

“I’m just busting your chops, kid. Just because I’m on a diet, doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu.”

I groaned and rubbed my face in my hands. Hieron chuckled some more, then composed himself.

“No more jokes. Promise,” he said.

“I should probably find out about the progress made while I was in the coma. I’ll need to get some of the crew in to brief me. Can you hang around while they do and give me your take afterwards?”

“Sure. What are you looking for?”

“I want to know how they’re meshing as a team. If there are any personality problems or behavioural issues I need to head off. More importantly, I just need a general read on their morale after I was nearly assassinated.”

His face went dark again, “You going to find out who did this?”

“I will, with your help.”

“What can I do?”

“I’m going to give you the file Osiris gave me. It’s nothing but financial jargon and account details, just looks like Orlii poetry to me. You have way more experience with financing than I ever did.”

“Galactic economics are a hobby I’ve taken up in my retirement. Flick it over, I’ll see what I can dredge up.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, kid,” he said, rubbing his palms together, “Will be my pleasure.”

28.

“I think I know how it works,” said Gaston, fumbling with a trio of tablets he was trying to juggle.

“You think?” I asked.

Gaston was the last of my briefs, after all of the section heads had come through over the last few days giving me updates on the ship. I had left the Professor until last so I could focus completely on his work. I knew that there were many concepts that we would discuss that I needed my undivided attention to understand.

“First up – I believe the Drive’s placement on the primary and secondary reaction chambers of the Linus Drives is completely arbitrary. There is absolutely no reason I could fathom why the two should be connected.”

“Why do you say that?”

“What do you recall when you witnessed the portable Jump Gate operating?”

I thought about it. “It looked just like a regular Jump Gate – event horizon and all.”

“And how was it used?”

“Osiris and his cronies simply entered it.”

“Right, they just walked through it. Same with ships in a Jump Gate. Putting this Jump Drive around the ship’s engines would be analogous to putting a Jump Gate around your legs to go through it. Shifting isn’t a three-dimensional movement, it’s orthogonal to the three dimensions. Actually, it’s orthogonal to fifth-dimensional movement.”

I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying. “It’s a movement diagonally, or at right-angles to three-dimensional movement?”

“Fifth-dimensional.”

“You lost me.”

A stern look came over his face as he crossed his arms. “I forget. You’re an idiot.”

“Professor…”

“Very well. Put it this way – consider a universe that has only a single dimension. It has a single one-dimensional line created from multitudes of points. A two-dimensional universe is simply multiple one-dimensional lines arrayed in a plane. Likewise, a three-dimensional universe, such as our own, consists of multiple two-dimensional planes stacked next to each other to create a three-dimensional space – it gives us our depth. Following me so far?

I nodded emphatically.

“Good. Four-dimensional space, often thought of as time, is actually spacetime, since time itself is not really a thing, just a reference to a part of four-dimensional space. Think of a book filled with graph paper, on each page is a drawing of an object sequentially moving from one side of the page to the other. Each time you turn the page, the object is slightly closer to the opposite edge. In the fourth dimension, each moment we experience here in three-dimensional space is a page in that book. Four-dimensional space includes all pages of this book simultaneously – a worldline of the object’s existence from one side of the page to the other. Our lives exist in four-dimensional space as these worldlines. They exist from the moment we are born until we die. It’s a little crazier than that, though, if you consider that we are made from molecules that we share with everything else in our vicinity, such as what we eat, drink or breathe in. But, for now, you can just consider our lives in the fourth dimension to be multiple frames of space, our lives, forming a worldline.

“The fifth dimension takes a step away from the Euclidean even further. Every action or choice that you make has the potential to create an alternate consequence from the one you experienced. The fifth-dimension deals with these probabilities, these…what-ifs. Every possible outcome is just as valid as the one you experience, it’s just that we are only capable of perceiving one such outcome. Our perception in the third dimension allows us to see in all three directions, but only a single frame of reference in spacetime – forward. We can also only see our multiverse as a single frame of reference on a single worldline – our present, and the sum of the circumstances that got us there.

“Just as the first-dimension is created from multiple points, the second-from multiple lines, the third-from multiple planes and the fourth-from multiple frames of space, the fifth-dimension is created from multiple worldlines. Phase space – the sixth dimension, what is colloquially known as Jump Space – is how we can step over these worldlines to re-enter a separate location in spacetime. Jump Gates, and apparently this Jump Drive, manipulate spacetime at the Plank length to create an event horizon. We shift into it, into phase space, and step over our own worldlines to a point further along – a worldline in which we arrive at our destination.

“But if phase space is…above our worldlines,” I said, “Can’t we see our other worldlines? Our lines of probability? Can’t we shift into another worldline? Or another probability?”

“Theoretically, yes. We simply don’t have the instrumentation required to navigate through phase space beyond the worldlines we are able to perceive – our own, as it were. I doubt that our brains would be able to comprehend the data needed to make that kind of shift.”

“How does my Spatial Translation fit into this model?”

“By the same principle, all the way up to the sixth dimension. You shift outside of three-and four-dimensional space to re-enter at another location. Since your nanites are capable of quantum level effects, they can perform the same function as a Jump Gate…Drive…but at a more local event level.”

“And Tac?”

He smiled. “Ah, now you’re thinking like a student. I most certainly would cherish a collaborative effort with his engineers. I suspect the bulk of his form resides in the seventh dimension – information space. It’s the only conceivable explanation I can posit.”

“So you think you know how our Drive works?”

“Yes,” he said, hastily plucking another tablet from his pile. He flicked through the screens for a few moments before finding his place. “Ah, ha. Here we go. How familiar are you with the Arbil’gehn Constrain Field?”

“It’s what we humans called the Higgs Field.”

“Yes, yes. The Orlii understanding of it is far more precise than ours. The Jump technology manipulates the properties of the ACF, the Higgs mechanism, and allows massively dense particles to become essentially massless for brief periods. We can do all sorts of magnificent things to matter when it becomes massless. For instance, we can squeeze it through really small spaces without it breaking its Schwarzchild radius. By passing specifically tuned massless matter through…er…gaps, I suppose you could call them, at the Plank length, to be received by an entangled Jump Gate at another point in the galaxy, we create infinitely long, tightly constrained corridors through the fifth dimension.”

“Jump Gates?”

He nodded vigorously, tossing aside his tablet and pulled another free. “This Jump Drive does not rely on an entangled pair of Gates. It tells me that there is no corridor, that we can move freely within phase space without remaining within a pre-determined path. This got me thinking. How do we navigate, then? The answer is so simple, I almost damaged Tac’s chassis slapping him on the back.”

“How do we navigate?”

“We lock our sensors onto the biggest, brightest worldlines we know. Use those for landmarks – just like ancient seafarer’s did – using the constellations.”

“What are the best worldlines to use?” I asked.

“The stars! More specifically – pulsars and black holes.”

“My grandfather mentioned the black hole in Vanhoeven System, just the other day.”

“Exactly!” said Gaston, excitedly, “I put it forward as the destination of our maiden voyage!”

I nodded to him. “It’s only a few systems away along Network…”

“Irrelevant!” he said, clapping excitedly, “We should be able to target it simply by entering phase space. All worldlines within several lightyears of the black hole should terminate there. Eventually, over millions of years, the curvature of spacetime will pull everything locally into its event horizon.”

“What are the risks?”

He looked at me blankly. “Risks?”

“Do we know what effect the black hole has on phase space?”

“Very little, I would surmise. As we will no longer be affixed to our worldlines we should be capable of avoiding its effects on three-and four-dimensional properties.”

“Should be capable…?”

He gave me a stern look. “The maths is solid, even if the fools who discovered it are not. I can offer no absolutes until the theory is tested, Commander. You have to understand – we have no data beyond what we have unlocked through reverse engineering and whatever the Admiral has dispensed from the alien neuro-module you recovered.”

“You think Jalabar is withholding information?”

“Of course.”

It was my turn to look stern. “Why?”

“He has offered several data-caches containing conclusions that could only have been reached if one was working from a foundation of understanding that was not contained within the cache itself.”

“Why would he withhold information?”

He gave me a wry grin. “Why do you think?”

I rubbed my stubbled chin, thinking hard. So far, Jalabir had played me straight, as far as I knew. But I had to think of him as any other Admiral on the Protectorate – he had bigger designs than local problems. He dealt with issues bigger than what the Votus-Eridani Network experienced. Then again, he was only a man – perhaps he thought he could gain political or financial gain from holding the keys to the technology. He was right, if that was his goal. Technology such as this could change how the galaxy worked at its foundations – the Jump Gates would be obsolete, and the Protectorate controlled the Jump Gates. Not even the Corporations had their own Jump Gates. That’s incorrect, I told myself, the Corporations do have their own Jump Gates.

“It has to be because of the Corporations,” I said, “If this tech became common knowledge, the Corporations would try and gain a monopoly on it, or destroy it. I’ve seen what lengths they go to in order to control their prototypes…”

A sudden thought came to me. There was a very good chance that the Corporations would try and learn about the technology covertly, and the most viable option would be to infiltrate my crew. I had already enacted a high level of security around the Jump Drive, only those directly working on the device were cleared to access it, along with the military security around the dry dock and ship itself. Regardless, I mused, an assassin got through to me…

“Those were my thoughts as well,” said Gaston, “Jalabir must play his cards very close to his chest. I surmise he is only feeding me enough information to get a breakthrough, nothing more. I also believe the Restitution is the Admiral’s lightning rod for Corporate attacks. In fact, I’m certain of it.”

“Why didn’t he warn me?”

“The Admiral strikes me as a very calculating man.”

“You think he was testing me?”

He nodded, somewhat vigorously, a big grin on his face. No wonder the Protectorate was footing the bill for my medical expenses.

“There are other, potentially hazardous concerns you need to be aware of,” said Gaston after he started packing up his tablets.

“How did the Ghantri work all this out?” I said, when he nodded I continued, “I’d already thought about that. The Sectis seem to be the driving force behind their innovation, but the one I spoke with didn’t seem all that brilliant. I could have misjudged them, but I’ve always had a suspicion that someone else was helping them.”

“They do seem to be rather haphazard in their grasp of technology,” he agreed, “Without the computational abilities of Tac, the neuro-module, and my own genius I doubt the Protectorate could have cracked this technology by themselves.”

“Maybe one of the ghru helped them? Maybe they have some other artefact that allows them greater insight than what we’ve seen so far?”

He shook his head. “I prefer a simpler explanation – you’ve already given me more than enough evidence to suggest the identity of their silent partners.”

My eyes went wide when I grasped what he was saying. “You mean the Corporations? You think they’re allied with the Ghantri?”

“Allied, no. But there are too many similarities between that portable Gate and these Drives.”

“So why would the Corporates be targeting us? Why try and gain access illegally to technology they already have a connection with?”

He gave me an evil grin. “Not all Corporations get along. Maybe there are more than one duking it out. Maybe they’re not trying to gain access, but trying to stop us from gaining access. Maybe, just maybe, they weren’t getting all that they wanted out of their deal with the grubs…”

“What have I gotten myself into?” I said, looking at the ceiling in despair.

Gaston chuckled, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “I haven’t had this much fun since my third divorce.”

29.

I still had two weeks of recovery, rehabilitation and hospital care to endure before the doctors allowed me to return to duty. Every day, they pumped me full of medical nanites, stuck sensor probes on me and hooked me up to machines. It reminded me immensely of the last time I had received significant injuries – the aftermath of my escape from the Push.

My new heart, machine though it was, performed above my expectations. I’m not saying that I had a problem with my original one, but a few new functions were soon explained to me that I saw immediate benefit from.

“This new app,” explained Zoe, “will allow you to control your heart rate to a certain degree. You can make it beat faster, or allow a reservoir to fill and enrich with highly oxygenated blood. In automated mode, the heart will function exactly as a regular one would, but once the new commands are added via the app, you can simulate various effects that would normally be brought upon through physical exertion, emotions or other external stimuli.”

“How will it affect my fitness?” I asked.

“It will automatically enrich blood to meet the demands of your body. In case you weren’t already fit, you will be now.”

“Maybe naga-zak will be able to keep up with warrior,” grumbled Kekkin. I’d called him in to discuss my security, in light of Gaston’s revelations. At first, Kekkin had freaked out when I told him of Jalabir’s machinations. It took considerable effort calming him down enough that he didn’t march straight up to the Admiralty Office and put his lurzak into the Orlii’s chest.

The station police had posted a regular guard detail on my ward, but Kekkin wanted soldiers from the Restitution to guard the door to my room. I also earned myself a personal detail, whenever I left for my regular physio session.

I didn’t have the heart (no pun intended) to tell him that I had been shot while in the presence of every soldier we had assigned to our ship, that if my assassin wanted another attempt at my life he would have made it months ago while I was in my coma. I could tell my time unconscious had affected him as well, so I indulged him.

A polite knock on the door interrupted our discussion. A guard informed me that I had a visitor from station security. Someone had finally come to talk to me about the attempt on my life. Someone uncomfortably familiar.

“You’re looking well, Commander,” said Lt. Killian, “and may I formally apologise for jeopardising your previous mission.”

Killian and I go back a few months. From when I first entered the Gossamer System to rescue Osiris Blackburn. While attempting to earn the Dreaming some financial headroom, I had undertaken an errand at the behest of a dirty Fleet Chief. An errand that turned out to be a drug trafficking meet and greet for Ghantri narcotics. Killian was the lead investigator who arrested me when the military police busted up the meeting. In his defence, he was only performing his duty. I chose not to take it personally – I actually agreed with him.

“My previous mission?” I looked at him dumbly. I was still getting over the shock of seeing him before me. My new app alerted me to an increase in heart rate, recommended a lower frequency of pumping and I immediately calmed down.

“In Gossamer?”

“Oh, you mean the refugees?” Galaxy, I thought, he thinks I was on a Protectorate mission to rescue them all along!

“I was unaware you were on a mission, which explains why we could find no record of who you really were in our database. If I may, Commander, I find it difficult piecing together the level of secrecy, the black market deals and the raid on Ambrose Station.”

“You do?”

“Could you share any details? Now that the operation is concluded, I thought…”

“Past and present Special Forces Operations are highly classified, human!” barked Kekkin, catching on quickly, “Unless you have official reasons to be here, warrior suggests you leave.”

“Apologies,” he said, bowing at the waist, “I did not mean to pry. My curiosity gets the better of me. Part of why I joined the Investigative Department. I do have an official reason – I am the lead investigator on your attempted murder, sir.”

“What have you got?” I asked.

“Little. Do you have any enemies, Commander?”

Both Kekkin and I laughed. Killian looked sheepishly at a tablet he was carrying, then cleared his throat. “I mean, any in Eridani space?”

“I have lots of enemies, Killian. Most of the time, I never even learn their names.”

“Anyone with the resources to penetrate a Protectorate dry dock on Collumus Station?”

“There’s not a great deal of security here, Lieutenant. It’s an open station, with minimal military protection. I know any number of people who could gain access to these facilities.”

I could see the frustration building on his features. Déjà vu made the encounter seem slightly unreal. I remember clearly our verbal matches from months ago. Like a game of chess, I had responded to his incessant questions and probing conversations carefully. Often, he had left after the talks ended with him yelling at me across the table.

“Those were my conclusions as well. We’ve had little to go on, these past few months. I’m afraid that without some measure of cooperation from you and your people we may never find out who is responsible for this attack…”

“Wait,” I interrupted, “my crew have not been cooperating with the investigation?”

“No…I mean yes, they have been cooperating. To a degree. For example, if I could gain access to your personal logs and a detailed report on your recent activities…

It was Kekkin’s turn to interrupted him, a bitter laugh escaping his beak. “What makes human think we want you to find them?”

He looked flabbergasted. “Don’t you want justice?”

“Justice?” he said, “Protectorate police do nothing but hassle warriors before they go off to die. Protectorate police wait like spider for warriors to return, make life harder when warriors want to blow off steam. Warrior sees no justice from Protectorate police, only bureaucracy, rules and little men too scared to fight…”

“First Sergeant!” I said, “That’s enough. Killian is only doing his job. We all have our roles to play. How far does your jurisdiction go, Lieutenant?”

“The station, the fleet and any Protectorate facilities. Why?”

“I have my own people investigating a lead, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Care to share this lead? More heads working on this case can only…”

“I’m sorry, but I have my reasons. Chiefly, I don’t want this enemy catching wind of it. When we have enough information my own forces will handle the arrest, but I assure you, once I have finished questioning them I will hand them over to you.”

“I can’t condone such…”

“You don’t have a choice, Lieutenant. This investigation is within my powers as a Protectorate Commander. I have the means and the resources to conduct it as I see fit.”

“But if we pool our resources…”

“We run the risk of alerting my enemy to our plans. No, I will use only people I trust, whose allegiance I can count on.”

He looked at me in frustration, again. “You think this was an inside job?”

“No, but I have reason to believe that factions may be moving against me.”

“Which factions?”

I gave him the deadpan stare I knew he was familiar with. He sighed in defeat.

“Very well, Commander. I’ve done what I could, with what I’ve been given. You may be interested to know the weapon used against you was a modified DPW 980. We found it several hundred metres from you, along the adjacent dry dock.”

“A DonCrest weapon?”

“It’s fairly common in Eridani,” he said, reading from his tablet, “the 980 is primarily marketed as a sports hunting rifle, used by Tyrillian huntsmen mostly.”

“Modified how?” asked Kekkin.

“Overcharged capacitors, enhanced optical sights, custom grip.”

“You tried any local weapon modders?” I asked.

“A few. Most won’t even talk to us, they think we were trying to bust them.”

“Let me guess, nothing?”

“Nothing. Anyone could have done those mods.”

“Okay, thanks anyway,” I said, indicating the door. Kekkin opened it for him and gave him a vicious smile. Killian nodded and left, keeping as far away from Kekkin as he could.

When we were alone, Kekkin stood at the foot of my bed and stared at me.

“You have a lead? Warrior was not informed.” He looked annoyed.

“I was keeping it between old man Hieron, Maxine and me…”

“You don’t trust warrior?”

“I do. I just didn’t want you getting angry and storming after every possible lead we stumbled across.”

He looked about to say something, then changed his mind. He looked chastened, having remembered his earlier outbursts when I told him about Jalabir and the Corporates.

“Warrior sees wisdom in this.”

“Don’t worry, I want you on the takedown team on this.”

“Rest of Naga Team would also want in.”

“Of course, so will Crege.”

Kekkin nodded to himself.

“How is the training of our embarked troop detachment going?” I said, eager to change the topic. Hieron was still working on the lead, but assured me he would have something concrete soon. I just had to keep the troops busy before they tore the station apart themselves.

Kekkin straightened and reported his progress. “Warriors are veterans of the Ambrose University battle and the docking sphere. Disciplined fighters. Need to keep that edge. Numbers bolstered by new recruits from Protectorate, mostly Eridanian human, Garz’a and Orlii mix of local population. Several Frikk. Thirty-something recruits are frontiersmen or nomads. Like naga-zak. Worst soldiers to train. All have their own way of fighting. No good. Stubborn.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“All up, have two hundred twenty warriors. Soon to be warriors.”

“How have you got them organised?”

“Thirty-two six-man fire teams, Corporals leading. Sergeant per squad of two teams. Junior officer supporting two squads each.”

“Any of them give you any grief, taking orders from a First Sergeant?”

“Couple.” He gave me a fierce grin. I had to chuckle.

“They recovering from their wounds?”

“No permanent damage.”

“You really should have taken that commission, Kekkin.”

“No, sir. Warrior really shouldn’t have. Handful of troops left, haven’t decided on placement. Looking for leaders. Cohen is one of them. Wanted to make officer, but too young. Want to see how he goes with a command of his own before making it permanent.”

“I trust your judgement on that. We’ve both seen him fight, and lead. Let’s see how he adapts to the new technology?”

He nodded.

“Do any have experience fighting from space?” I asked.

“Not like a Primarch Star Marine.”

I grinned at him. “Not many others are, Kekkin.”

“What skills, in particular, are you referring to?”

“The way I see this force being used is for securing berths at any alien facilities we encounter, so they’ll need to be comfortable using armoured space suits. Just before…I got shot…I was in talks with Protectorate procurement trying to secure some Valenvaard Industries tactical suits.”

“The D series?” said Kekkin.

“Is that the new one? Aerogel laminated inner lining?”

He nodded, looking impressed. “Not bad. The VI-D’s are lightweight, easy to train in. Not as sturdy as an M4 MAEL, but cheaper. The model 80 has anchor points for the PAT-9 exo-suit.”

“Really? I’ll put it to the bean counters. See what they can come up with.”

“Been meaning to ask – Protectorate is spending a lot of credits on this ship.”

“You want to know what kind of strings are attached?”

He nodded.

“I do, too. So far all I’ve gotten out of Jalabir is platitudes about recruitment increases and reiterating what I said about the Ghantri threat. Verbatim.”

“Warrior does not trust Orlii.”

“I think I do. I think I understand his motives, but I am aware that he is definitely not keeping me informed of the whole picture. My eyes are open.”

I said this last while pointing to my hairless, synth-skin coated chest.

“Warrior will watch like galab.”

“I have another job for you. You’re probably not going to like it, and I won’t mind if you delegate it to other Naga Team members. We’ve been assigned a Policy Officer by the Admiralty. Admiral Stirges, to be precise.”

“If Stirges and Jalabir fought duel, don’t know which one warrior would want to win.”

“You ever had to deal with a Policy Officer before?”

He shook his head. “Fleet problem.”

“Me neither. What do you know about them?”

“Kak. First sign of trouble, toss them out of airlock.”

I laughed. “The galaxy would be a much simpler place if the Garz’a were in charge, wouldn’t it?”

He gave me a look that said he disagreed. “Simple, maybe. Peaceful, not so much. Not as advanced.”

“We’re hardly touched by peace, and many of the ‘advanced’ people we deal with even here, in the Inner System worlds, are despicable.”

“Not much faith in galactic society? You sound like Nomad.”

“I’m just a realist. So anyway, Lieutenant Reza’k will be reporting to you tomorrow afternoon. Show her to her quarters, take her around the accessible parts of the ship, make sure she gets familiar with our systems.”

“She?”

“There are two things you’ll need to know about Reza’k – she’s Garz’a and she’s a telepath. She’ll be doubling as our diplomatic advisor.”

“Diplomatic? A Garz’a goiki?”

“Any first contact we make will benefit from telepathic intelligence, I’ve been told. I’m not all that conversant with how telepathy works, or how effective it is, but Zoe tells me Stirges is right about that, at least.”

“The first female Garz’a we get, and she can read our minds?”

“I don’t want you and Crege getting into any duels over her, am I clear?”

I wasn’t sure if the look he gave me was because he was affronted I would consider it, or because he just realised he would have some competition.

30.

Osiris’ lead panned out. Hieron tracked the account through several transactions preceding the assassination attempt to a modest apartment overlooking an artificial lake in one of the Spars of Collumus Station. As a courtesy, I informed Lt. Killian of our intention to raid the apartment right before I sent Naga Team in to catch the sole occupant. Rego fed me a drone feed of the raid. It was expertly done, only a handful of shots fired. Most importantly, no casualties.

The team found a full workshop inside devoted to weapon maintenance and modification, several nanite printers loaded with dozens of covert gadget designs, and a cupboard loaded with several people’s worth of identity kits.

The suspect, a man named Koren Kegori, was a known bounty hunter and mercenary. When I turned his name over to Killian, he obliged by providing a dossier on him crammed full of juicy details – pending murder charges, failed piracy cases, illegal modification charges and an animal cruelty suit filed against him.

“Animal cruelty?” I asked him, face to face over a wide steel table. Secured to the deck with alloy cords that not even his augmented cyber-arms could pull free, he sneered at me.

“Kicked some Monarchist’s dog once. In my youth.”

“You’ve certainly worked your way up through the douchebag hierarchy since.”

“Go float yourself.”

Kekkin, standing ominously behind him, whacked the back of his head so hard he smashed his head on the table. A tooth skidded across the steel surface to rest in front of me. Geko, standing off to the side with a sidearm in his hand, couldn’t contain a quickly stifled laugh.

When Kegori composed himself, I continued.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

He tried to get a look at Kekkin, but his restraints wouldn’t let him.

“Eye’s front, bezak,” said the burly Garz’a.

Kegori faced me again, nodded quickly.

“What I can’t get,” he said, “is why you’re here.”

I gave him a dry smile. “Someone didn’t do their homework. You’re not the only one augmented.”

“Subdermal armour?” he said, shaking his head, “Knew I should have gone for a head shot.”

“We’re not here to discuss our modifications. Nor your modus operandi. We’re here to discuss your motivations.”

“What motivates everyone in Eridani?”

“Credits.”

He flashed me a toothless grin.

“Who was paying?”

He gave me a shrug, which earned him a second wallop by Kekkin. This time, he left a bloody smear on the polished surface. A maddening cackle burbled forth from his bloodied mouth.

“Beat me up all you want. Been roughed up plenty, before.”

He spat blood onto the table. Kekkin pulled back for another hit, but I raised my hand. Kegori barely winced.

“You know what nano-proliferation does?”

He shrugged.

I placed both of my hands on the table, focusing my attention on the spatters of blood before me. I sent my tiny minions out across the surface, imperceptible to the naked eye. Their effect, however, was very perceptible.

Kegori’s eyes went wide when the first few droplets of blood began to fizzle, then evaporate. My reach extended across the table, enveloping the blood in a slowly expanding wave of nanites. As the bubbling blood vaporised, I nodded to Kekkin.

“Closer,” I said. Kekkin shoved the struggling Kegori forward so that his face was touching the pool of blood. His eyes went wider still as the wave of nanites boiled away his blood, slowly sizzling towards his face. He struggled, pulling against his restraints and Kekkin’s grip. Both began to grunt with the effort.

When the nanites were inches from his face he began to scream.

“Stop! Stop!” he cried, spittle and blood flying from his broken mouth.

At a nod from me, Kekkin let him up.

“Ah, fuck! What the fuck?” Kegori was shaking his head back and forth.

“Who was paying, Kegori?” I repeated.

“Some Corporate floater! Didn’t give me a name.”

“Which Corporation?”

“He never told me.”

“How did you know he was Corporate?”

“The attitude, the threads, the muscle.”

“Come on, Kegori,” I said, slapping the now dry table. He flinched. “You’re a career criminal. You know how to find out about your client. Don’t tell me you didn’t sniff around.”

He was shaking his head, as he opened his mouth I let an arc of electricity snap between my upraised palms. He jumped and recoiled.

“Okay, okay! Yeah, I poked around. Nearly got killed doing so. Got a tag on his shuttle, bribed a station official to put a trace on it.”

“And?”

“The shuttle belonged to the Blade of Xerxes. This big organo-ship parked out near one of the moons of Baris Doon.”

My blood ran cold, I had trouble listening to what was being said as Kegori rattle off guesses about which moon the ship was near. He was prattling, offering as much information as he could offload. My hands felt clammy and my mouth was suddenly as dry as sand.

“Commander?”

“Huh?” I said. I realised that Kekkin was asking me something.

“I said is that familiar to you?”

“You could say that,” I managed, trying to swallow.

Kegori was looking at me in a near panic. “I…I told you what I know, right? I did what you asked. I…I…” he stammered.

“Get him out of here,” I said to Kekkin. I stood to leave, my head swimming. I had to put my hand out to steady myself.

I could hear Geko asking about me, his voice sounding like it was coming from down a long tunnel. I waived away helping hands and made my way out of the cell. I kept going, head down and breathing quick, shallow puffs. I didn’t stop until I was outside, the artificial breeze caressing my clammy skin. I closed my eyes and let the sensation pass, focusing on my breathing.

It was several long minutes later that I realised I wasn’t alone. I opened my eyes and saw Zoe before me. She’d been in an adjacent room monitoring the exchange. Worry was clear on her features, an emotion I had elicited from her too much these last few months, I bet.

“Sorry.” was all I could say.

“Don’t be,” she said, “Take your time.”

“The new heart helps. Calmed me down once I was aware of it again.”

She gave me a sad smile, rubbing my arm.

We sat down on a nearby bench. The station security building we were using overlooked a manicured garden, a water feature bubbled softly in the distance. Tall, violet tree analogues offered shade from the Eridani sun, the light diffused yet warm on my face. Zoe rested her head on my shoulder and we just sat there, saying nothing for a long time.

“You heard what he said?” I said eventually.

“Hm, hmm,” she muttered, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I have to.”

She turned to me, searching out my face. “You can talk to Admiral Jalabir. Let him deal with it.”

“I can’t,” I said, giving her a weak smile, “I’m being tested. Jalabir needs to know I can handle myself.”

“You nearly died. Again. You just had a panic attack, moments after you heard who was responsible.”

“If I can’t deal with this threat with all the resources at my disposal, I won’t be much use to the Protectorate.”

“Nonsense. You have nothing to prove to them, you’ve already done amazing things in their name. What more can they ask of you?”

I smiled and kissed the top of her head.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed. You need to rest,” she chided, rubbing my knee.

“Is that my doctor or my girlfriend talking?”

“Both.”

I was silent for a few minutes. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Reminds me of home,” she said.

“Have you heard from your mother?”

She nodded.

“What does she think of you signing on to this crazy voyage?”

“She’s proud of me. She always is, though.”

“Did you tell her about me?”

“What? No!”

“Huh?” I said, pulling back from her. Then I realised she was grinning mischievously at me. I gave her a wry grin. “Tease.”

“Got you good.”

“What did she say?”

“What do you think? I’m the lover of the Hero of the Push. That makes me famous, you know?”

“Oh does it, now?”

“Hm, hmm.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

“I’m the subject of many of the local gossip news sites.”

“What is the latest gossip?”

“That we’re getting married soon.”

“We are?”

“Oh, yeah. Some even say we’re already married. Someone leaked copies of our civil union agreement, even. They turned out to be fake, though. Also, you and Maxine were an item before I came along and stole you away from her.”

“We were? You did?”

She nodded emphatically.

“You naughty minx.”

“They say I have terrible fashion sense, though.”

“But you mostly just wear a ship’s jumpsuit!”

“It looks good on you, but I should be wearing more revealing fashion. More like what Art used to wear.”

“That’s not a bad idea, you know.”

She gave me a light thump in the ribs, which she instantly apologised for when she realised what she’d done. She started rubbing my chest tenderly, apologising repeatedly. I took her hands from me and kissed her fingertips. I moved her hands over my neck and brought her closer to me.

“Ah…Commander?” said Geko, “Sorry, but Kekkin told me to come and tell you that…ah…”

I gave him a death stare. “What is it Geko?”

“Well, that Killian guy is taking that turd away now and if there was anything else you wanted from him?”

I sighed. “No, thanks. Killian can have him. I have all I need.”

“Right. Sorry for interrupting. I’ll go now…sir. Ma’am.”

He scurried off, bobbing his head at us as he went. Zoe watched him leave and started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I said.

“He’s so awkward around me.”

“He’s a strange one, that boy. A good soldier, though.”

We shared each other’s nearness for a while more, just simply watching the gardens. Several birds landed and started to forage through the bushes and grass. Air traffic was restricted in this Spar, so there was little background noise beyond the sounds of nature, artificial though it was. A sense of peace settled on me, followed closely by a bittersweet sadness.

“Things are about to get hectic, again,” I said.

“I had that feeling, too. I’ve had it since you were shot.”

“It’s been a pleasant distraction, living here since we got back, hasn’t it?”

“You mean besides the last few months in a hospital?”

“I don’t often stay in one place for long, but we’ve been here nearly half a standard year. I’m going to miss this.”

“I miss those nights on watch with you, on the Dreaming.”

“Me, too. Simpler times.”

She chuckled gently. “Frustrating times.”

“Oh?”

“Before we hooked up, that is. Unrequited love and all.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can be a little slow when my love life is concerned.”

“All good, worked out in the end.”

I kissed her again. When we parted, I looked in her eyes. “Let’s get married.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I told you, I can be slow. Life for me, well, it can be scary. You’ve seen that. I live dangerously, I put myself at risk for others all the time. I never know when my next action could be my last. I can’t afford to be slow anymore. Not about you. I need you in my life, now more than ever. A civil union agreement, it will…it will solidify this feeling I’ve had about you for so long now. It makes sense. We’ll be going away for a long time, I don’t know what we’ll find or how we’ll fare. But, if you’re by my side, I just know that I can…”

“Shut up and let me answer!” she blurted out. I realised I was rambling. My words coming out in rapid succession.

“I…okay…will you enter into a civil union agreement with me?”

“Yes,” she said, with a sharp nod of her head, her eyes sparkling.

31.

Things were moving quickly, at last. I’d finally been let out of the hospital with orders to take it easy, but I had so much catching up to do I was exhausted by day’s end for a week. The revelation regarding my nemesis, Koveli-Xue, was initially kept a secret between the members of Naga Team and Zoe. I had to keep my circle small – loose lips sink ships. I couldn’t keep it that way forever, though, and soon decided to bring in my allies.

I had a sit down with Maxine, Hieron, Tac, Fel’negr and Kekkin. I had to talk about the Corporate threat on my crew, and how best to deal with it. These few people seemed the best equipped, the people I trusted most, with the experience and mentality to out think them.

“Why isn’t Martine Lenser here?” asked Max before we started.

I waved dismissively. “It was a tough call. I need to be able to trust her, but I can’t rule her out just yet.”

“Bullshit. If she was going to cause trouble, she’s had more than enough access and opportunity.”

“I wanted to get everyone’s opinion first before I start widening the circle.”

“I vouch for Naga Team,” said Kekkin, jabbing the table fiercely.

“I also trust them, completely,” I countered, “That’s why you’re here. I wanted to keep it tight, for now.”

“I agree,” said Hieron, “Best keep it small for now. We can vote more people in as we go, but conspiracies do well to keep their numbers low.”

“This is hardly a conspiracy,” said Fel, “We’re just discussing how best to counter a threat to the Restitution.”

“Then why all the theatrics? We’re in a dark room, in a hotel, with government guards outside the door.”

“Sorry,” I said, “It does seem a little dramatic. I can turn the lights on if you’re getting a little scared?”

Hieron barked out a laugh and tried to kick me under the table. “You little shit.”

“In all seriousness, though, we need to know a few things…”

“The level of threat posed by the Corporates,” broke in Tac.

I nodded. “That and if there is any link between the attempt on my life and any espionage we find on the ship.”

“You think the hit was anything other than the Captain of the Blade of Xerxes getting payback?” asked Max.

“In all likelihood, that’s exactly what it is. I can’t rule it out as a distraction, though. What was the situation like in the first few weeks of my coma? What were the crew doing? Any incidents that didn’t make sense, or were suspicious?”

“I’ve gone through the logs several times,” said Tac, “I cannot find anything amiss. I must say, however, that Professor Gaston is a most formidable obstacle for anyone attempting to gain legal access to the Drive, let alone unauthorised.”

“What about when he would finish up for the day? When he retired for the night?”

Hieron laughed again, “You haven’t been down there yet, have you?”

“Why?” I asked.

“The man sleeps down there. Probably spoons his lab equipment.”

I blinked. “You mean he doesn’t leave the ship?”

“He doesn’t leave the engineering spaces.”

“A most dedicated individual,” said Fel.

“Meals?” I asked.

“He sends me out to get them,” said Tac, “and he consumes them while we work. If he remembers to eat at all.”

“Okay, so how would we gain access to the Drive, if we were Corporate agents?” I said, looking around the table.

“Wouldn’t need access to the Drive, just access to the Professors notes,” said Hieron.

“Strike before duty shift. In and out in two minutes,” said Kekkin, poking the table once more.

“And we’d be able to tell that it happened. Which means they haven’t done that, yet,” said Max.

“Okay, how would you defend against an assault like that?” I said, looking at Kekkin.

“Security checkpoints, manned sensor stations, un-networked automated turrets and knock-out fields.”

“Like what they use in prisons?” I asked.

Kekkin nodded. “And double guards.”

I rubbed my chin, thinking hard.

“You know,” said Max, “The bitch would know how it would be done.”

“Artemis?” I said, surprised.

“This seems right up her alley.”

“Fierce woman, that,” said Kekkin, admiration clear in his voice.

“Okay, so we can defend against an overt assault,” I said, “but what about while we’re underway? We’re due to launch next week. Although we can keep the Drive secured, we have no way of maintaining that level of security around the Professor indefinitely.”

“That would probably be the better time for a covert attempt,” said Hieron, “While everyone is busy with the shakedown cruise. A lot more people on board then, a lot of busy people. It’s when I would do it.”

“How can we screen the crew?” I asked.

“Warrior does not believe one of the Ambrose people would do it,” said Kekkin, “Been through too much together.”

“Don’t think the Corporates wouldn’t try and flip one of them,” warned Hieron, “There’s no telling what someone would do, for the promise of a lot of credits.”

“I agree with the First Sergeant,” said Fel, shaking his head, “Those people strike me as rather exceptional. Resourceful, talented and devoted. Most of all, loyal. They’ve had no need for credits for most of their lives, and signing on to the Restitution ensures that won’t change for some time.”

“So…someone not part of the Gossamer family, then?” I said.

“Records indicate that ninety-seven crewmembers were not recruited from the survivors of the assault on Ambrose Station,” said Tac.

“That’s a lot of people,” said Hieron, “but doable. We can look into their backgrounds – maybe identify some likely suspects. Bring that number down to a more manageable figure.”

“What about this…Policy Officer?” asked Max.

“Lieutenant Reza’k?” I said, “What do you want to know?”

“What is she? What’s her role? You say this Stirges character sent her in as a spy.”

“Not a spy – an observer and advisor.”

“In what?”

“Well…er, policy,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Goiki not work for Corporate calak,” said Kekkin, “But definitely not ally.”

Maxine canted her head to one side. “Goiki? I’ve not heard that word before.”

“Thought stealer,” he said, with a look of disdain.

“Admiral Stirges thought that having a telepath on board in case we make first contact would be advantageous,” I explained.

Maxine gave me a cynical look. “And he took the opportunity to insert one of his own into your crew to monitor you?”

“Something like that. I haven’t had much to do with her, yet. Kekkin has had the most contact with her. What’s your take on her?”

“Pah,” he said, waving us off.

“What’s that mean?” I said.

“Woman has big head. Too many demands, too many orders. Let Crege escort her around ship.”

Maxine laughed. “She sounds like my kind of woman. When do we get to meet her?”

That gave me an idea. “You know, that might actually work for us. Max, can you befriend her? Take her under your wing?” I looked at Kekkin, “No pun intended.”

“Why?” asked Max, “What would that achieve?”

“If we can get her on our side, control what she communicates with Stirges, we can mitigate any damage he can cause through her. Moreover, we can use her against the Corporate threat.”

Hieron snapped his fingers, “Brilliant! We can have her look through the crew’s minds looking for any betrayers!”

“Actually,” interrupted Fel, “That’s not how telepaths work, Hieron.”

“They don’t?” said both Hieron and Kekkin at the same time. Okay, so did I.

“The limits to telepathy mean a telepath is only able to discern feelings and emotive states, not thoughts. Stirges is correct, regarding first contact, a telepath would be a valuable tool in learning to communicate with intelligent life. But as far as using one to scan the crew…she would have to be present when the individual is committing the act, or thinking strongly about it.”

“What about if someone is accused of working for the Corporates?” I said.

“That would indeed generate strong feelings about the accusation. If it were false, the crewmember would feel a great deal of confusion and hurt. If it were true, however, shock and fear would be the most prevalent emotion. Even if the agent is well trained and able to hide their initial shock, the increased emotional stress should be detectable by a telepath. It might be possible. We should speak with her about it, she would know more about these matters than I.”

I turned to Kekkin. “You said she wouldn’t be working for the Corporates, before. Why are you certain?”

He ran a hand along his beak. “She’s descended from Urlakah.”

I looked around the table, I wasn’t the only one confused.

“Reference acquired,” said Tac, “Year of New Atlantis, 1342. Primarily Garz’a population of Planet Urlakah, Huk-tah System, is involved in an incident with Galactic Corporation Renata Unlimited. Biological research facility undergoes a breach of failsafe resulting in widespread infection and loss of life. Urlakah Planetary Council opts to attack local Renata Unlimited presence in retaliation, instead of seeking reparations through Protectorate Treaties…”

“Is Garz’a way,” said Kekkin, “Lawyers, no good.”

“…Renata Unlimited responds. Remaining Garz’a population suffer 87% casualties before Protectorate intervention. Planet deemed uninhabitable thereafter.”

“That was a long time ago,” I said, “nearly two hundred years. And besides, if the planet was uninhabitable after…”

“Her family came from Urlakah,” he said, “Racial memory is long, a warrior never forgets. An Urlakah warrior would never do a Corporate’s bidding.”

“It’s a stretch…” said Max.

“No, I think he’s right,” said Hieron, “I know Garz’a. They never forget a grudge. Good enough for me.”

Kekkin nodded to Hieron in respect.

“All right, if everyone is in agreeance, we bring her into the fold,” I said. I looked around the table and after a few moments of contemplation, everyone nodded.

“I’ll start getting cosy with her,” said Max.

“It will have to be genuine affection,” warned Fel, “Or she will sense your duplicity.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard, I’m fascinated with female Garz’a beauty. Such vibrant colours!” she said, and I could see the idea excited her.

“That leaves the other thing,” I said ominously.

“The Blade of Xerxes,” said Hieron.

“I thought we were done with that ugly ship,” said Max.

The old man laughed, “I liked having powerful enemies – it made me feel important. You got yourself a right bastard there, lad.”

“So what do we do?” I asked, my hands flat on the table.

“Can the Restitution stand up to the Blade of Xerxes in a fight?” asked Fel.

I shrugged, “Maybe. We’re a lot more nimble than the Xerxes, but it will only take one or two hits to finish us with that railgun. It never got close enough to us to use anything else, so I’ve no idea of any other armaments. I’m not sure this is what the Admiralty had in mind when they gave me a ship, though. Not attacking Corporate interests.”

“What do the treaties say about these matters?” asked Fel.

I rubbed my chin. “Another question for Lt Reza’k. Policy is exactly why she’s here. Officially, that is. My understanding is that the Protectorate has rigid guidelines drawn up in how to deal with them. The Corporations police themselves, or at least each other, while the Protectorate ensures all factions can use the Jump Gates freely. An attack on a Protectorate asset, such as myself, might be enough provocation to launch an assault, so long as it’s not targeting the entire Corporation. I think. It would be a good project to get the crew working together. We’d need a decent plan…”

“What are the chances they’d fall for the same trick twice?” asked Maxine, a sly grin on her face.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Kekkin shared her grin, answering for her. “Naga Team can insert, take out weapons. Restitution move in and issue Protectorate warrant.”

“I believe I can assist,” said Tac, “I still have the deck plans of the Xerxes stored.”

“Can you do that, though?” asked Hieron, “Use a warranty, I mean?”

“I can,” I replied, “One of the powers vested in me as a Commander. I have proof that Koveli-Xue struck at Protectorate assets – me – and traced the command back to the ship. I can call for the arrest of the Captain. When I apply for it, I’ll also include my suspicions regarding the Corporate – Ghantri connection. No doubt the Admiralty will want to ask a few of their own questions regarding this.”

“How likely do you think that connection is real?” asked Fel’negr.

I shrugged, looking around the table. “It answers a lot of unanswered questions. How did the Ghantri plan to infiltrate the Network with their converts? How would they gain intel on Protectorate assets? From what I can tell, none have ever set foot outside of their star system, they won’t know where to hit or with how much firepower.”

“There have never been any reports of a Corporate presence within the exclusion zone,” said Max.

Hieron grunted. “Plenty before the Betrayal, though. The colony on Nsarri was financed entirely by several Corporations.”

An idea struck me. “I wonder if we can find out which Corporations had an interest in Gossamer before the attack. Are there any records of licenses from Nsarri?”

“Indeed,” reported Tac after a moment, “Retrieving a list of interested parties now…DonCrest Corporation, Fen-Harn Galactic, Solonyd Dynamics, Koveli-Xue Corporation, Inteli-Dyne Automation Systems. All five had controlling shares in the Nsarri Colony industrial and commercial projects.”

“What about research and development?” I asked, “I was told there was a scientific community there.”

“Both DonCrest and Koveli-Xue had R and D facilities scheduled for construction,” said Tac, “Through subsidiaries, of course.”

“There’s our link, then,” I said, rapping the table lightly with my knuckle, “That’s a viable means, and motive. I’m sure I can get Jalabir to sign off on it.”

Hieron grinned. “Never got the opportunity to bag me a Corporate before.”

“Should an accident happen while in our custody…” started Max.

“I don’t think we can do that,” I said, “We’ll need to play this straight. Jalabir needs to know I can be trusted with this. If I serve him up, Jalabir will probably use it as a warning against other Corporate threats.”

“Why pander to him?” asked Hieron, “You already got the ship, just doing your mission against the grubs should be all the brass needs to trust you.”

“I have a feeling things are going to get a lot more complicated in the future, I’m going to need all the allies I can get if I’m going to be an effective Commander for the Protectorate.”

“If this is how it’s going to go, then I have something that may help,” said Max, “We’ve been busy while you were asleep.”

Fel started smiling. “Indeed.”

“What am I missing?” I said, looking between the two of them.

“I’ve had Mel and Fel working on a replacement for the Stealth Module we borrowed from the Astral Spider.”

“How?”

“That Votus, he’s got the heart of a pirate,” she said, “Once he accepted his role on the ship, he took to it with determination. He still had early designs of the prototype, and by using Zoe and Dr Montannis’ data from Gossamer System they were able to duplicate it. Sort of. Mostly.”

“There are some issues we’ve yet to work out,” apologised Fel, “As we’ve had to do without Tac’s extensive computational abilities since he’s been working with Professor Gaston.”

“If you need him, I can make sure his time is split between you both?”

“We would only need him for a few days, at most. I think we either need a specialised AI to run the nanite controller, or install Tac into the Sensor Nexus on the Dreaming whenever we wish to use the module.”

“I would be fascinated to assist,” said Tac.

I clapped my hands and rubbed them together. “So, a shakedown cruise where we get to take down a Corporate organo-ship. This is going to be one to remember.”

32.

It felt good to finally be getting underway, once more. An anticipation grew within me as the final preparations were made. It was strange, I’ll admit, taking such a back seat in most of the organisation – I had teams of people working to achieve the same things I did for the Dreaming as First Mate. The first time I stepped on board after my recovery was a memorable moment, for me. I had not thought I would bond with the ship as I had the Dreaming of Atmosphere, but those first moments when I strode down the passageways on my way to the bridge, seeing for the first time the finished bulkheads and refurbished fittings, passing crew who halted what they were doing to throw me a crisp salute. I felt pride.

I had close to five hundred souls calling this ship home, now. Two hundred and sixty crew, Volunteers all of them. I had shared peril with them before, faced death many times. They knew who I was, and I knew their courage and determination. That they were willing to put themselves in danger again, for me, for the Votus-Eridani Network – it was telling of the strength of their character. I was both humbled and awed at the trust they had in me and I was determined not to let them down.

As the final hatch irised open, I stepped onto the bridge. Dozens of personnel were working across various stations and consoles, but they all paused what they were doing when I stepped onto the mezzanine. Gone were the detritus and rusted panelling, the frayed cabling and damaged consoles. The bridge was gleaning a glossy black, an almost mirrored sheen that somehow made the compartment seem high tech and top of the line – which it most definitely was. Pale blue downlights cast their glow across the varied equipment and displays, mingling with the holographics.

“Commander on deck!” yelled Kekkin from my right, coming to attention. Everyone rose from their seats or stood straight.

I held my hands up before me. “At ease, ladies and gentlemen. No need to be so formal. We’re family now,” I nodded to Martine Lenser as she climbed the short stairwell beside the mezzanine to join me, “How are we shaping up, number one?”

She gave me a fierce grin, “Still takes a bit of getting used to. Never thought I’d make First Officer of a freighter, let alone a warship.”

“You should try being called Commander,” I said, sharing her grin.

“All departments reported good to go. We’re fully supplied and all manufactories are outputting at optimal levels. The Chief Gunnery Officer reports all batteries functional and missile magazines are either full or nearing full capacity. A few more days will have us fully armed, just have to wait for the manufactories to finish their runs. Chief Gannerson reports all helium-3 tanks are full and all propulsion systems functional. He even said to tell you…” she made a coughing sound, “that ‘even bloody number 3 fuel line is working’. The First Sergeant reports all troops are embarked and armouries are loaded.

“Lastly, the dock master himself is eager to see us gone, said he’d personally throw the first tether himself,” she said this last with a wry grin.

“We do seem to have overstayed our welcome,” I said, “Prepare the ship for launch, we’re leaving tonight. 2300 hours local time.”

Her eyes lit up, and a hushed whisper spread through those within earshot. “We have a mission?”

“A trial run. An active shakedown cruise. Details to follow once we’re underway.”

She frowned. “Nothing more than that?”

“For now. Stay alert for a request from Captain Cooper to dock the Dreaming, we’ll be launching with her in our bay.”

“Aye, aye,” she turned about and started issuing orders to the crew.

I spent the next few hours touring the ship, checking in with all the department heads and congratulating them on getting the ship ready. More importantly, I made sure the crew saw me up and about.

Before long, I realised that I was going to be late for a very important lunch. Zoe’s mother had arrived at Collumus Station and I was due to meet her before we launched. Her arrival, timed right as we were to leave, prompted Zoe to request leave for the duration of the maiden voyage. I could see that it pained her, as she was as eager as I was to see the ship in action. She had also not seen her mother in two years. Who was I to get between a girl and her mum?

Anthea Ward was a woman of small stature, plump yet not overly large. She had a smile that reached her eyes and a warmth that bespoke a life lived amongst loved ones. At first, I was immensely nervous at meeting her, but at first sight of me she made a squee noise that reminded me of Zoe and she rushed over to hug me tightly.

When I had extricated myself from her embrace, we sat down in one of the nicer restaurants in one of the Spurs that Zoe and I frequented. It was an outdoors affair, the high domed ceiling lit by a photorealistic hologram of open sky. A fragrant breeze hinted at a wooded glade, moist soil and pine. We ordered several small dishes, delicacies from Eridani and Harakiwa – spiced and aromatic flavours I knew they both loved. Small talk quickly gave way to pressing matters.

“So,” started Anthea, “Zoe tells me you asked her into a civil union?”

I almost choked on a dried berry. “Yes. I hope you don’t think I was being disrespectful, not seeking your approval first?”

“Nonsense, you’re both adults. You know what you’re doing. You do know what you’re doing?” she directed this last at Zoe.

So far, she’d been mostly silent throughout the meal, offering only a few words in answer to questions. She nodded and put her hand on mine.

“So what do you know of the Ward family?” Anthea said.

“Ah…not as much as I’d like. Zoe and I have talked about her childhood and education, but not much about you and her late father.”

“Oh?” she said, looking at Zoe again.

“Of course she mentioned you, but we didn’t really talk about you. It’s not that I wasn’t interested, but I…well we had other things to talk about.”

“Nothing at all about the Ward name?”

“No, I…like I said, she wasn’t very forthcoming about it and I didn’t pry…”

“So you didn’t tell him?” she said, still looking at Zoe. She shook her head, still looking down at her hands.

“Tell me what?” I said, looking confusedly at the pair.

“Have you spent any time on Kanto Prime?” she said.

I shook my head. “Very little. I trained for a few years on Kanto Moon and had a couple of week’s shore leave on Prime, but not in recent years. Never been to Pado City, either.”

She trilled a short laugh. “You don’t follow politics, I take it?”

“I’m a frontiersman, Ma’am. Politics don’t really affect my kind.”

“No, I suppose they don’t,” she said, giving Zoe a stern look, which she tried her best to not meet.

“I’m sorry, but what’s this all about?” I said, trying to divert her attention. Zoe was clearly uncomfortable with something.

“House Ward is not just a family name, Commander Donovan, it’s also a tradition.”

“Please, just call me Seth. I’m not sure I follow you.”

“House Ward is a noble house, Seth, from a long line of defenders of the Primacy of Kanto. We trace our lineage all the way back to the progenitor of the Primacy – our ancestors served on the colony ships from Eridani in the wake of the Destroyer War. Zoe’s father was an important man, one of Primarch Singh the 28th’s most trusted advisors.”

“I was…not aware.”

“I trust that your appointment as a Protectorate Commander, most deserved from all reports, means that you have at least a small measure of elegance despite your upbringing?”

“Mother!” said Zoe, earning a reproachful glare.

“I simply need to know if you will bring disrepute upon our House.”

I frowned at her. My first impulse was to say that I loved her daughter, regardless of her background, and to hell with what anyone thought of my own background. That was the frontiersman in me. I stopped that train of thought before it left my mouth – a rare moment of wisdom for me, especially around women. I had to think beyond my own sensibilities, now. I had to think about Zoe. If I truly planned to include her in my life permanently, I needed to include her family and their way of life as well. I needed to find that common ground.

“No, ma’am. I too served the Primacy, proudly and ably. Although I do not share the importance of Zoe’s father, nor his influence, I still consider myself cut from the same cloth.”

“You do?” she said, eyebrows raised.

“Mother, please,” pleaded Zoe.

Anthea waved dismissively at Zoe, “No, Zoe. I have to know. What makes you think you and my husband served to the same degree of devotion? Over twenty generations of Wards have served the Singh Dynasty. You’re a self-professed frontiersman. Hardly known for their loyalty to any faction beyond their immediate family. Forgive me if I seem blunt, Commander, I simply fail to see how such a claim could be true.”

“Did your husband ever get awarded the Primarch’s Star?”

She seemed taken aback. “Of course not. Only those who have sacrificed immeasurably or shown the utmost valour in the face of the Primarch’s enemies are awarded such a prize. Posthumously, I might add.”

I smiled ruefully at her while I plucked my medal from beneath my shirt, slipping the chain from around my neck. As I handed it to her she looked dumbstruck.

She considered the medallion as she turned it over in her hands, finally nodding to herself as if coming to a decision. She reached across the table and gave me the medal back, then offered a delicate hand. “Welcome to the family, Seth.”

Zoe let out her breath in a gush, relief clear on her face. She gave me an apologetic look.

Anthea smiled warmly. “Sorry, I had to make sure you weren’t a political enemy, trying to sabotage our name through my daughter.”

“No, ma’am. Politics is most definitely not my strong suit. I simply love your daughter and want to make that love official.”

“Then you have my blessing, and with it House Ward’s. Now, tell me all about your heroics in the Gossamer System! The court will be the envy of me when I return!”

We talked for several hours, and I quickly realised this woman was both shrewd and sharp. Although I knew almost nothing about House Ward, I counted myself lucky I had unwittingly fostered another ally that I sensed I may need in the coming years if I stayed active in the Protectorate.

I shared my time with Zoe, and her mother, and with a heavy heart bade them both farewell as I returned to the Restitution for the final preparation for launch. The Blade of Xerxes, hidden behind one of the moons of the gas giant Barris Doon, was only a week of transit time away, but there was a lot of work to be done before we arrived and I did not know how long we would be underway before we returned.

A month, at most, I told her. How wrong could I have been?

33.

True to his word, the dock master of the Protectorate dry dock facility oversaw our launch personally. With a wave, he kicked off the gravity tether that held our ship motionless to the berth and with a graceful arc we pulled free of Collumus Station. I stood at the rail overlooking the bridge crew as they performed a well-coordinated dance, directing us along a pre-determined corridor in local space to sit idly at a parking point off the station, away from incoming traffic.

I forced myself to only watch, I wanted to see these people work. Martine had confidence in them, but old man Hieron’s words regarding their lack of experience weighed heavily upon me. What I saw heartened me. They were professional, if untried, responding immediately to commands issued by First Officer Lenser. Within the hour we had halted motion, shut down our propulsion and let the engineers inspect the systems for stress.

Chief Gannerson informed me that all inspections would be completed by 0600 ship time. Plenty of time for us the plan our assault. I called a meeting in the situation room, a compartment the crew had taken to calling The Pit, due to its downward sloping amphitheatre arrangement.

“Welcome to the Restitution,” I said, when everyone had gathered, “Our mission will be two-fold – a shakedown cruise to test the worthiness of all systems, and to issue and serve a Protectorate Warrant to a rogue Corporate Captain in the system.”

I looked about the compartment as I paced, a mannerism I had picked up from watching Maxine. I was in the centre of the room, surrounded by all my senior crew and officers. Those who Hieron and Tac had screened and passed what tests they could muster, that is. I gestured to Rego, manning a console off to one side. A holographic display filled the Pit, depicting the gas giant Barris Doon orbited by dozens of moons.

“An investigation into the attempt on my life has revealed the order came from a Koveli-Xue organo-ship called the Blade of Xerxes. Intel suggests the ship is parked in orbit on the far side of Barris Doon’s twelfth moon – Eovan. Professor Gaston has assured me that we should be able to activate our Jump Drive and navigate Phase Space in order to appear much closer to Barris Doon than the Xerxes would think possible – thus evading their notice. We’ll insert between the first moon and the planet.”

A small blip appeared close to the central image of the planet.

“We’ll have timed our arrival to coincide with the following position of the first eleven moons,” I said, as a path between the moons began to thread, “using the moons as cover we’ll advance to the opposite side of Eovan and launch the Dreaming of Atmosphere, with a squad of marines on board. Captain Cooper?”

I gave the floor to Maxine, as she joined me in the Pit. She passed through the gas giant’s hologram, scattering the light.

“We’ve outfitted the Dreaming,” she began, “With a similar stealth module to that developed by Doctor Montannis and my First Mate, Melafenaseance, then tested on the Astral Spider under Captain Garner of the Votus Defence Fleet. We’ll skirt the upper atmosphere of Eovan, masking our ion wake in the electrical storms wracking the moon. Once we’re within a few hundred kilometres of the Xerxes, the marines will deploy and assault the organo-ship, disabling the railgun spinal system and long-range communication systems.”

Several hands were raised by then. I pointed to Martine. “Go ahead.”

“Sir, that’s a lot of ship for only a few marines. How many were you planning on sending?”

“As few as possible. A few small teams should suffice.”

“There have to be hundreds of crew on that thing! I doubt even Naga Team could take out that ship.”

“On the contrary. I personally disabled it with only Tac as my back up over a year ago. Probably why I was targeted by their assassination attempt.”

“With all due respect, sir. You’re an exceptional combatant and tactician, with bleeding edge augmentations. You can hardly expect our marines to match your level of prowess…”

I held up my hand to forestall her. “You’re all exceptional beings, First Officer. You’ve all done exceptional things that I would not have believed if I wasn’t here to witness them first hand myself. We’ll have the advantage of strong intelligence, including deck plans that First Sergeant Kekkin and his team leaders have been studying carefully. You know what Kekkin and the rest of his team are capable of – they’ll be spearheading the assault.”

It was then that the Policy Officer stepped in. I’d been avoiding Lt Reza’k since she had joined, a move that I know had frustrated her. In the mingled lighting of the holographic display, her countenance and features were stunning. Although male Garz’a are featherless, the women are gifted with a fine mane of colourful down that graced their necks, backs, and upper limbs. As with many Garz’a, she was graceful and long legged, with an athletic, almost lithe build.

“Commander, I must object to this course of action. If you would take this discussion to a more private meeting, I can…”

“No, Lieutenant,” I interrupted, “You can voice your objections here.”

She snapped her beak shut with an audible click. “Very well. Your appointment as a Protectorate Commander does not grant you the legal power to attack foreign Corporations, especially ones that have not breached their Network Treaties.”

“We have a recorded confession of the gunman who shot me, clearly indicating the Blade of Xerxes in the attempt…”

“A tenuous, unreliable confession by a known criminal. Hardly the most concrete evidence…”

“I also have a recording from my first encounter with the Xerxes, the Captain himself vowing to attack me for defending my previous ship and crew against them.”

“The Protectorate is not a tool to enact revenge against your enemies, Commander.”

“Why do you think they shot me, Lieutenant?” I said.

“Revenge! An act you yourself are perpetuating.”

“You don’t suppose it was to remove me from command? Suppose, the act of removing me from the picture could trigger a series of events that meant greater access to the highly classified Jump Drives aboard this vessel? Would you think it may even be possible the Protectorate would remove it entirely to study elsewhere?”

“I…yes, that is a plausible outcome…”

“Suppose having the Xerxes arrange this attempt would also serve to distract investigators from the true purpose of the hit? Would not reasonable minds believe the Xerxes acted purely for vengeance, and not Corporate espionage? Tell me, Lieutenant, what the Votus-Eridani Treaties say regarding Corporations stealing technological secrets from the Protectorate? Especially technology regarding the Jump Gates, the one thing that keeps the balance of power in the galaxy. The one thing that makes the Corporations beholden to Protectorate Treaties.”

She was silent for a few moments before answering. “They allow Protectorate agents of Sub-Commander rank and higher to issue warrants to arrest those involved, including any Board Members linked to the attempt. Failure to comply instils a five-year embargo on the entire Corporation from using the Network Jump Gates.”

“How do you believe the Captain of the Xerxes will respond to the Warrant?”

“He would resist…”

“Do you still believe I’m out of line initiating this assault?”

She was silent while she thought hard about her answer. Finally, she shook her head. “No, sir.”

“Admiral Jalabir has also been apprised of possible connections between some of the Corporations and Ghantri forces. He has questions that we’re hoping to ask the good Captain once he’s within our custody.”

“Connections?” she asked in confusion, “I was not aware of any connections…”

“Nor would you,” I continued, “You were posted here on Admiral Stirges’ orders. Stirges had not been informed, therefore, nor were you.”

She sat back down, a look of annoyance on her face. I gestured to another officer, one of the bridge staff who had held their hand up earlier.

“Sir, what are the weapon systems available to the Xerxes? Will the Restitution be able to defend against them?”

“Good question. We know they have a Class 3 railgun, capable of some devastating firepower. That will be one of the primary objectives of the assault team. We know they can field short range fighters, drones and boarding shuttles. Point defences are light, they tend not to get too close to their prey. That’s what minions are for.”

Alexander held up his hand and I nodded to him. “How sure are we that the Xerxes won’t have ‘minions’ as you put it? Won’t they have defence ships guarding it?”

“I expect they will, but Maxine’s stealth drive is very capable. I’ve seen Garner’s stealth module in action, so have you on Ambrose.”

He nodded solemnly, a shadow passing over his features. The desperation of Ambrose Station was still fresh in many of our nightmares.

I continued, “We only need to disable the Xerxes, the Restitution can handle any mercenary ships. With any luck, she’ll order the mercs to stand down when they realise they’re beaten, but I don’t count on it. I’m betting that Captain is an arrogant son of a bitch. He won’t go down without a fight.”

One of the drone pilots had a question. “How will the assault team be recovered?”

“If all goes well, we can recover them after the Xerxes surrenders. If it comes to a battle, they will exfiltrate via escape pods launched from the Xerxes. Closest registered recovery point is one of the helium-3 platforms orbiting Barris Doon. We can pick our troops up there after the battle, or they can charter a Transport back to Collumus if we have to flee. Once everything goes to poo.”

A light titter of laughter echoed around the Pit. Chief Gannerson hoisted his large arm above his head.

“Chief?”

“Passing through so many gravity wells on our way to Eovan will put a lot of stresses on the Linus Drives, and the hull. How many gees are we planning on facing?”

“We’ll discuss that offline during detailed planning, but you can be sure I’ll include you in that discussion. I’ll also be meeting with department heads prior to getting under way to discuss our shakedown cruise objectives…”

“Sir?” said a voice near the back of the room. I gestured for them to stand and speak. A scarred Orlii rose, his jumpsuit uniform identifying him as a supply officer. “Many of us have been questioned rather thoroughly regarding our non-existent Corporate ties. Many of us were refugees from Gossamer, surely you don’t think we’d be linked to any of this?”

I considered my words carefully. “These are dangerous waters. We are custodians of technology that has the potential to alter the way the galaxy works. If we’re not ultra-careful in how we do business, we may unwittingly tip the balance of power between the Protectorate and the Galactic Corporations. The only thing keeping the Corporations in check is the hold the Protectorate has on the Jump Gates. If they no longer have intergalactic travel as a bargaining chip, the Treaties will become meaningless. The Corporations will have unchecked power to do what they want in the galaxy.

“For any slight given to you, I apologise. It was necessary. Each and every one of you has been given the green light by our investigation. That’s why you’re here tonight.”

My answer seemed to have appeased him, as he nodded curtly. “You think there are Koveli-Xue agents on board?” he said.

“We have to assume there is. They want the Jump Drives, and I’m personally aware of the lengths they’d go to acquire it.”

Another hand was raised, which I acknowledged. “Sir, will you be leading the assault on the Blade of Xerxes?”

I took a breath and looked at Kekkin. We’d argued about this previously. I knew he preferred I take a back seat to the action, but in the end, he agreed that it was my decision to make. I wasn’t comfortable letting other people take all the risks while I sat safely in my command chair, letting others die in my stead. It was a tough decision – I had to start thinking like a commander and not a soldier. In the end, he asked me what Max would do in my position. It was a cheap shot, but it worked. Maxine would let people do their job, and make sure she did her own to the best of her ability. If that meant sending Crege and me to deal with boarders while she piloted the ship, that’s what she would do.

“Not this time. I’ll remain with the Restitution and direct the ensuing space battle. All squad leaders have had battlenet implants and are connected through to the ship’s command suite on the bridge. As soon as we know the assault’s objectives have been achieved, we’ll begin our approach on the Xerxes.”

I waited for a few moments and when no more questions were asked, I waived for Rego to shut down the holo-projector.

“This is the first time we’ve all gone into action in many months, for some of you the first time ever. Make no mistake – this will be difficult, there are plenty of risks. This is what it means to be a Protectorate asset – we have to be willing to step in when someone gets out of line. We need to ensure the region maintains stability, and we can’t have that if the Corporations decide to make a power play in a technological arms race, not while the threat of the Ghantri remains. We deal with this, we show the Admiralty what we’re capable of, then we get the green light to start our real mission.

“Get some rest, people. We launch early morning, ship time. Dismissed.”

34.

The atmosphere was tense on the bridge. The usual comms chatter was non-existent, all ears were eagerly waiting for the unknown to occur. Even I was nervous. None of us had ever done this before and we all knew there was a decent chance it would all end in sudden annihilation. But it had to be done. I gave a nod to Professor Gaston to begin.

“Spooling helium-3 reactors now,” he reported, “All systems nominal. Power levels stable…threshold reached. Inform the Chief he may divert power to the Jump Drive.”

I had Gannerson on the command channel. “Divert power, Chief. Good luck. Abort immediately if anything happens down there that you think is unsafe.”

“Aye, aye. Does it matter that I think this whole charade is unsafe?”

I smiled, “Your concern is noted.”

The Professor began manipulating the console we had configured to control the Jump Drives. He began barking orders at the sensor operators.

“Make sure those detectors are calibrated to no more than forty-two Planck lengths. Precisely forty-two, do you understand? Shift that polarity sensor out another pico-metre away from the hull, you fool! You’re picking up the ship’s inertial field.”

Another few tense minutes passed before Gaston looked up at me. “Commander, everything looks good. We can start the process anytime.”

I looked over at Maxine, sitting in a secondary command chair to my right.

“It’s your show, Donny. I’m just here to watch.”

I smiled and gave her the thumbs up. “Go ahead, Professor.”

He turned back to his station. “Stability is good…inertial field is solid…activating Jump Drive…now. Monitoring quantum conditions…chirality is shifting! Sensors! Feed me positional data on number three channel!”

“No change recorded, Professor!” reported the sensor operator.

“Keep the data coming! Increasing subspace injector rate…entanglement observed! Resonance detected! Sensors! Monitor the chirality of the inertial field!”

“Field is synchronised, Professor!”

“Now!” shouted Gaston excitedly.

“Helm,” I called, “Five percent thrust!”

“Five percent, sir!” called the helm operator.

The gentle thrumming of the ship’s propulsion vibrated through the structure of the hull. No one spoke, no one breathed, for several long moments.

“Release inertial field!” shouted the Professor.

We weren’t sure exactly what to expect, whether shifting like this was the same as going through a Jump Gate or something else entirely, so it caught us all completely off-guard. It was like suddenly being weightless, upside down and full of gas at the same time. At least, that was what it was like for me. Several people cried out in alarm, I gripped the armrest of the chair and did my best not to belch. A guard on the bridge behind me slumped against a bulkhead as he fell.

“Helm, full stop! Sensors! Report!” I managed to call out.

It was several seconds before I got a response. “It’s…it’s…I’m not sure what to make of it, sir!”

Gaston made an impatient noise and climbed out of his seat. He spent several seconds scanning the sensor display before calling up to me. “It’s as I predicted. There’s too much information for the sensors to gain a meaningful picture.”

“We’re blind?”

“The opposite. We’re overloaded with information.”

“What about the gravity detectors?” I said.

“Yes, yes. I’m not a fool. Calibrating displays. This will take some time to decipher. I have no idea how the grubs did this without advanced AI.”

“But it worked? We’re in Phase Space?”

“As best I can tell, yes.”

“As best as you can tell?” I said, giving him a reproachful look. He chose to ignore it.

“We’re no longer in a normal, three-dimensional brane. We have very little sensor readings that are decipherable. Even gravity is being overloaded with data.”

“What are we seeing?”

“Well, as I predicted, we’re not just picking up the gravity of an object, we’re also picking up the gravity that the object had and will have through its entire existence. Its entire world line. The readings are just too massive for our sensors to make out anything discernible…they’re too…sensitive…”

His words trailed off into an inaudible muttering and he dashed back to his own console. With enthusiastic gestures, he reconfigured his console.

“Professor?”

“One moment.”

The minutes trickled by. Eventually, he gave a triumphant cry.

“Eureka!”

“Professor? Care to share with us your discovery?”

“I’ve done it! I’ve worked out how the grubs saw in Phase Space. So simple! They’re not known for their ingenuity, so they wouldn’t have had finely tuned sensors or equipment. I simply dialled back the sensitivity of the sensors and all gravity detectors were able to display their waveforms unclipped!”

“But we already had them turned down…” I said.

“No, no, no…I had to reprogram them. Well…I had to feed their signal through a dummy load first, then reroute it through the ship’s nexus several times, then I had to hack the ship’s operating AI algorithms…”

“You didn’t just void the warranty on our brand new systems, did you?” I asked.

“What? But…you’re about to take it into combat!”

I chuckled at the look he gave me. “Professor. Can we see or not?”

He straightened his shirt and stood straight. “Yes.”

“Can we see the blackhole at Vanhoeven System?”

“Yes. Which means we can extrapolate our position relative to the singularity and Barris Doon.”

“Our position in…probability?”

“Correct. Our physical location is meaningless, but with the data the sensors are now collecting Tac should be able to map out a three-dimensional representation.”

“He’s all yours, Professor. Do you hear that, Tac? You’re back to being a navigation AI.”

The irony is not lost on me, Commander.

We had connected Tac to the sensor nexus, a similar location to where we had found him on the Veridian March, all that time ago. Since his adventures on the Dreaming of Atmosphere, and then with Naga Team, he had informed us that his growth had accelerated. He assured us that his past experiences on a deep space research vessel provided him with the foundations needed to generate a depiction of multi-dimensional space. Gaston had insisted we use Tac for this part of the operation, for once Tac had a workable method for depicting Phase Space using physical characteristics he could teach a lesser AI that we could install in his place. It took some convincing on Tac’s part. He had hated his previous role on the Veridian March. It was only the promise of extended connections to the Restitution’s sensor nexus that had convinced him. I knew what he relished, for I too had tasted of the vast perceptions that being a ship provided. It was exhilarating, to say the least, intoxicating even.

“How long before you’ll have a working display?”

If you’ll access the command table, switch over to the channel marked ‘Misc.’, he texted.

I walked over to the command suite – our replacement for the ageing DonCrest Model 89 navigation pane that the Ghantri had placed here. Rego sat at the head of the table, a slightly larger, glossy black affair with multiple configurations – similar to the consoles on the Dreaming. I could program the suite to display holographic imagery relayed from troops in the field, sensor data of local space, or long range navigational displays for tactical plotting. Rego, our resident gadget enthusiast, had introduced me to it and then begged me to put him in charge of it. I was only happy to oblige.

“How’s the new leg?” I said as I smiled at him.

“Good as new. Masters would be envious of it,” he said, referencing a late member of Naga Team who was fond of cybernetics.

“You went with the chrome version or synth skin?”

“Chrome, of course! Want to see it?” he said, starting to roll the leg up on his jumpsuit.

I held up a hand and chuckled, “Not right now. We got work to do.”

He nodded and went to work, flicking through a menu on his controls. In moments the table lit up with a chaotic array of convoluted shapes and lines. They swirled about and twisted into impossible patterns that hurt the eyes.

“What am I looking at, Tac?”

The image should coalesce eventually into something recognisable in time as I fine tune the imagery. You’ll need someone to monitor the feed to let me know when I’ve reached the required settings.

“Like tuning in a transmission,” said Rego, “or calibrating a drone feed.”

A simplistic, yet apt analogy, Corporal.

“How long will this take?” I asked.

Insufficient data to provide a meaningful answer.

I sighed, turning back to the operations deck below. “How are our shields holding? Any residual heat leaking through?”

“Negative, Commander,” responded one of the crew, “Shields holding.”

“Let me know the second they start to fail.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

The minutes ticked by, with seemingly no progress on obtaining a readout we could navigate with. Every time I glanced at the command suite, the image had changed but was still unrecognisable as anything we could use. After nearly an hour, I could see Rego getting fatigued by the constant swirling patterns. I noticed that Maxine kept glancing over as often as I did.

“Max, you’ve always like the patterns when we shift. Want to give Rego a spell?”

“Sure,” she said, walking over to the command suite, “Move over kiddo and give your eyes a rest.”

They swapped places, Max sitting down at the table while Rego took Max’s chair. He was rubbing his eyes as if trying to get sleep out of them.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, just staring at that pattern was giving me motion sickness, I think.”

“Could you make anything out?”

“I’m not sure. Just when a shape looked familiar it would twist and warp out of focus. I tried following some of the lines, but…none of them seem to have a beginning or end.”

Twenty minutes later, Max called out. “Stop! There!”

Halting algorithm, said Tac.

I stood up and approached the table. Max was leaning forward, staring intently at a mess of tangled lines and forms. It looked no different than before. I said as much to Max.

“That line there? It stretches all the way back to that point on the other side. I’ve been watching it for five minutes, now. All the other lines pass nearby it at some point. It’s central to this area, I’m sure.”

Captain Cooper is correct, said Tac, there is a convergence of most other lines in the area at one point or another. Standby.

The line turned a bright green, contrasting it against the swirling purples and blues of Phase Space.

Professor Gaston joined us as we stared. “It’s got to be the Vanhoeven blackhole. Has to be.”

“Okay, so how do we identify other stellar objects?” I asked.

“Easy, what’s the nearest star to Vanhoeven?”

“Max?” I asked.

Her eyes were focused off into nothing as she retrieved information on her overlay. “Nearest is VE 98563, but there’s another star almost as close designated VE 98543.”

“Even better,” said Gaston, “What happens to stars near black holes? What happens to everything, eventually, near black holes?”

“They get pulled in,” I said.

“Right, so if we have two other stars roughly the same distance, they should both get pulled in at the same time. Say, within a few million years of each other.”

“That’s hardly the same time.”

“It is when we’re talking about stellar events.”

These two lines intersect the Vanhoeven line at this point, texted Tac, causing two separate lines to flash red.

“Can you calculate the time it would take for the Vanhoeven singularity to accrete those stars?” said Gaston.

Calculating…standby…accretion will begin in 12,703,534,023.6 years. Assuming there were no cosmic events to alter current Vanhoeven parameters and characteristics…

“Yes, yes. I understand. What’s the next star to get pulled in, and give me the time as well…”

I see where Professor Gaston is going. Allow me to extrapolate…standby…

One by one, lines began to flash and change colour, with small, yet visible name tags appearing attached to each one.

“How did you do that?” said Max.

“Quite simple, really. Once we know how long it will take those two known stars to accrete, the next one gives us a frame of reference. After that, Tac simply calculated the positions of other stars, regardless of whether they are accreted or are far enough away, simply by identifying the local neighbourhood of stars. They act as landmarks…spacemarks…” he started chuckling. He stopped a few seconds later when he realised no one else had joined him.

“Okay, do we know where we are then?” I asked.

A pulsing point of light appeared.

“How do we get around? Which way are we facing?”

“It’s irrelevant,” said Gaston, “We just need to move in any direction, and velocity, then take our bearings again. Do it again in a different direction. Then a third. Those will make our frames of reference for the Restitution. I also suggest we try different velocities as well – you have to remember all movement will be orthogonal twice removed from three-dimensional vectors.”

“Good work, let’s get this sorted,” I said, turning to issue the commands. Before long, we had our bearings calibrated, we had identified Barris Doon and we knew how to move about in the fifth dimension.

One foot in front of the other.

35.

“Reverting to normal space in ten seconds…” reported Gaston, carefully monitoring his console.

I looked over at Max and grinned. “Those sky farmers at Barris Doon are in for a fright.”

“Who’d have thought?” she said, returning the grin, “A Donovan, excited about exploring.”

“…three…two…one…shifting!” called the Professor.

I gripped my armrest, expecting the same sensation as when we entered, but all we felt was a slight vibration and a light dizziness.

“Sensors recalibrating.” reported Martine, dashing between the sensor operators, “Command suite should be receiving…now.”

“Put it on the forward screens, number one,” I said.

The giant displays in the bridge flickered to life, showing us a wide view of the gas giant Barris Doon. The swirling greens and pale yellow painting a gentle mesmerising pattern belying the chaotic power of the storms below. An indicator on my overlay informed me that it had synced with the screens, granting me the ability to control the view by thought alone. It was breathtaking.

The first contacts began to appear on the display – geosynchronous orbital platforms skimming the upper atmosphere of the gas giant for helium-3 and other valuable resources. Sky farming was a lucrative business in Inner System worlds, even more so in frontier systems. It was the primary source of fuel for starship reactors – the main proponent of Linus Drives and the more advanced varieties.

I spent a few moments enjoying the view, imagining the looks on the nearest sky farmers faces when they spotted us, before rising from my seat and heading to the command suite. The others had already gathered.

Maxine joined me, along with Martine, Melafenaseance, Kekkin, Hieron and Lieutenant Reza’k. Chief Gannerson was the last to arrive, having travelled all the way from engineering.

“How was the passage to the bridge, Chief?” I said as he nodded to me.

“Not too bad, those transit paths are a godsend.”

He referred to a system of high-speed automated passages used to ferry people along pre-defined paths between important sections of the ship – such as the bridge and engineering. With just short of one and a half kilometres of ship length, the refit designers thought they would make an excellent addition. It was just as well, Gannerson was not the fittest man in the galaxy.

“Let’s begin,” I said, “Martine?”

My First Officer nodded and cleared her throat. She pressed a few buttons on her control panel and a three-dimensional image of local space appeared. “Here we are, ladies and gentlemen – Barris Doon and its daughter moons. Our current position is seventeen million, eight hundred and ninety-three thousand kilometres off the ante-sunward side of the planet, diametrically orbital from Eovan.”

“Lo-tan is a little out from where we thought it’d be,” said Hieron, “That going to be a problem?”

“No, sir,” she said, “It actually works in our favour. Our previous route was to take us through this region of space after the moon Lo-tan crosses our path. Now we can use it to add to our acceleration. We’ve revised the flight path to take us between the next two moons within three days. That gets us to our target nearly fifteen hours earlier.”

“Why the circular path?” asked Gannerson, “Why not cut right through those moons? We can accelerate using the Linus Drives then.”

I shook my head. “Our objective to remain undetected We’ll achieve this by keeping Barris Doon between us and the Xerxes. Once we’re within high orbit of the planet, we’ll skirt around using the first moon as cover. We’ll need to keep on station there for nearly two days before the next moon is in a viable position – then we can sling our way through most of the others before we approach our target.”

“Where’s our launch point?” asked Max.

“Here,” said Martine, causing a blip to appear prior to the twelfth moon – Eovan.

“Have you chosen your teams, First Sergeant?” I said, looking at Kekkin.

“Warriors have been chosen. Does kitrak wish to inspect them?”

I nodded, “I’d like a few words with them before they launch, yes.”

“Any local traffic registered along our path?” asked the Votus.

“A couple of bulk freighters doing runs from the gas giant to inner system planets,” said Martine, “We miss them by eighteen hours.”

“Will we be detectable by them?”

“Probably, but only if they were looking for non-intercept vectors.”

“Not the usual behaviour of freighters,” I said, “We should be fine. Once we launch the Dreaming, the Restitution will complete an orbit of the eleventh moon, coming around on this aspect. This will buy the Dreaming time to deploy her troops, and for the troops to get on board the Xerxes.”

I looked around the table, expecting more questions. When none came, I flicked a button on the panel nearest me and changed the view to display a deck plan of the Blade of Xerxes. The same plan that Tac and I had liberated the last time we were on the ship.

Hieron whistled in awe. “That’s one big ship.”

“Data gathered from a previous foray,” I said, eliciting a chuckle from Max, “Shows us these key points in the Xerxes’ main weapon. This manufactory, the magazine and the railgun firing mechanism. The easiest way to get there is through this emissions port near the rear of the vessel. It’ll be tight, even with those VI-D80’s,” I gave a sad smile, “Triptych would have been right at home in there…”

“Alpha team will strike the railgun components,” carried on Kekkin, “Bravo will take the propulsion offline. Previously, kitrak achieved this by destroying a control brain, this time Bravo will target these two reactors on deck nine. They’ll cut through the hull at these two points.”

“The last team, Charlie,” I said, “Will gain entry via the hangar maintenance shafts on deck twenty-one and twenty-two. They will remain undetected until one of the two other teams achieves their objectives. Their role will be to secure deck twenty-two, where several shuttles are stored, or the life pods if they can’t get there. I’ll leave the extraction method up to the First Sergeant, that’s a call best made on the ground.”

The Votus asked another question. “What security forces will the Corporates use to repel boarders?”

“They carry regular light security details, along with a fairly extensive synthetic force. Last time I was there they also used Frikk mercs.”

“What company?” asked Hieron.

“From images taken from the Dreaming’s security recordings when they boarded the ship,” said Kekkin, “Naga Team was able to identify the Rizan Raiders and Candrus 2nd Battalion.”

“The Candrus 2nd?” said Hieron, “They’re Eridanian!”

“Not since a decade ago, old human,” said Kekkin, chuckling, “They’re sixty percent Frikk now.”

Hieron started grumbling under his breath. I caught snippets of words like ‘good old days’ and ‘decent merc bosses’.

“Anything we can use?” asked Martine.

“Maybe,” said Kekkin, “Naga Team fought Candrus 2nd few years ago. Know their tactics fairly well. Warriors are skittish around explosives. Will take extra grenade packs for teams.”

“That gives the assault team six hours to gain entry to the Xerxes,” I said, “And complete their objectives. By that time, the Restitution will have completed her orbit and swung around Eovan, striking the Xerxes as we pass by. Our aim will be to completely disable the Xerxes, or at least inflict as much damage as we can, then complete another orbit of Eovan to slow down.”

“Depending on the status of the enemy,” said Martine, “We’ll re-engage as we come about, issue the warrant and demand their surrender.”

“Or finishing off the kak when the calak tells us to float ourselves,” said Kekkin, grinning wickedly.

“We estimate the escorts will try to disable us as we come about for the second engagement,” I said, “If the Captain of the Xerxes is as arrogant as we think he is, this will be the hardest fighting part. If the railgun is still operational at this point, we’ll need to abort. We simply can’t repel firepower of that magnitude. Propulsion is secondary, so make sure if you have to choose, take out the railgun.”

Kekkin nodded to me. “Warrior understands.”

“That second orbit of Eovan will be tight,” said Gannerson, rubbing his stubbled chin. I hadn’t fully integrated some of the Gossamer survivors into military life, yet. I allowed them some measure of leeway. “Any chance we can shed some speed before we hit Eovan? Or better yet keep our speed down before we enter the orbit?”

“Worried about hull stress?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’m sure she’ll hold, but we might bend a little. I’m not as confident these fandangled new nanite welds are as strong as the Collumus engineers say.”

“Don’t trust the new technology?”

He grunted. “Something like that. Just want to play it safe on the maiden voyage.”

While we talked, Martine entered new calculations into the command suite. An updated trajectory appeared on the display. “If we pass the Xerxes at 15% less speed, we’ll buy the First Sergeant another ninety minutes of mission time. The first pass of the Restitution will take thirty-two seconds longer. We can get off a couple of dozen more shots with the port and starboard batteries if that’s the case.”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” said Gannerson, “You okay with the extra time in the fire?” He directed this last at Kekkin.

“Warriors will be fine.”

“I can slow down too,” said Maxine, “Less speed means fewer emissions that I can’t vent, means the ship will stay cooler inside for longer. While cloaked, I can’t open those emissions ports. We’ll just look like a big invisible ball of trailing heat, otherwise.”

“It’s a win-win,” I said. I turned to Martine. “Get the drone pilots into the simulators as often as you can until we arrive, they’ll need as much practice as they can get.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” she said, turning to leave.

“I’ll come down to the ready room in a couple of hours, Kekkin. I’ll address the troops then.”

Kekkin nodded and left. I turned to Maxine, Hieron, and the Votus. “How does the Dreaming look? Need anything?”

Maxine shook her head. “She’s never been more ready. Finally got that Class 1 system I’ve been meaning to get, too.”

“What’s the crew arrangement? You taking the old man with you?” I said, poking my grandfather in the gullet.

“No, this old man will be with his disrespectful grandson. Bubbles has enough crew for this one, and doubt she’d like a former Captain looking over her shoulder criticising her every decision.”

“I agree,” said Max, “I’d much rather you do that to Donny. Mel can handle the weapon systems, no sweat.”

“Want me to get Gannerson to send over a damage control team, just in case?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Couldn’t hurt. So long as they don’t empty the autochef.”

“I’ll send over my best-fed lads for you, ma’am,” said Gannerson, “Anything they eat, I’ll make sure they pay for.”

Maxine and Melafenaseance left, the Votus giving me a deep bow. Gannerson left right after them. Hieron raised his eyebrows at me and walked around the table to join me as I strode over to the rail overlooking the operations deck below.

“You ready for this, lad?” he said.

“If I’m not ready for this, there’s no way I’ll be ready for the Ghantri.”

“I’m no stranger to the burdens of command. You need someone to talk to, I’m here.” He put his hand on my shoulder.

I turned and smiled at him. “So far, so good. Everything seems to be going to plan.”

He grunted. “That usually means you’re forgetting something.”

“Am I doing the right thing? Am I putting the crew at risk needlessly?”

He turned back to the rail and stared down below. “I used to think I knew the answers to questions like that, but now I’m too old for grudges or caring what happens in the galaxy. I’m here for you, only. I don’t care if it’s the right thing, but I’ll make sure you have what you need to do it.”

I chuckled. “I almost forgot what a hard bastard you could be.”

“I may be a bastard, but I’m a good bastard. Like all the Donovans. We’re hard enough to do what needs doing.”

36.

“Commander, we need to talk…” said Reza’k, as she stalked me through the passageways. I was on my way down to engineering to check in on Gaston and Gannerson and the Garz’a woman spotted me as I threaded my way past the busy crew as they prepared for our trek through the moons of Barris Doon.

I considered continuing as if I hadn’t heard her but thought better of it. See? I was growing up!

“About what, Lieutenant?” I turned to face her, suddenly. She almost bumped into me as she stopped. One crewman walking briskly behind her collided with her, muttering apologies as he careened off a bulkhead.

“About your grandfather.”

“What about him?”

“Can we…we should discuss this in private.”

I looked around, spotted a hatch and opened it up. A quick scan revealed it to be an unoccupied compartment. I slid in and waited for her to follow.

“Is he causing problems?” I said as she pulled the hatch shut behind her.

“No. Well, yes,” she stammered.

“Well, what is it?”

She made a puffing noise from her nostrils, a mannerism I’d seen Crege do when he was frustrated. I couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Do you often find humour in serious circumstances?” she managed to get out.

I barked out a sharp laugh. “We all have our coping mechanisms. I would have thought you’d have been more informed about me, considering your…credentials.”

“My credentials? Is there something wrong with them?”

“I don’t mean to…look. Don’t take this the wrong way, but your boss is not exactly my number one fan.”

“My boss?”

“Admiral Stirges.”

She blinked at me. She blew air out of her beak in a trilling sound, the way a Garz’a does when they laugh. “Some things are starting to make sense,” she said, “That explains why you’ve been avoiding me. Why you’ve had Captain Cooper follow me around trying to distract me with banter…you think I’m a spy!”

I put my hands on my hips. “Well, aren’t you?”

“Commander, I would have thought you would be more informed about me. Considering my role.”

I sized her up. She visibly reacted to my scrutiny, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. I could swear the fine down of feathers along her arms puffed out slightly. “It seems we may have both misunderstood each other’s roles here.”

“I am under your command, sir. I report only to you. Stirges sent me here to be rid of me.”

I laughed out loud again. “You’re another one of his rejects?”

She looked taken aback. “Rejects? Another? Who else are you referring to?”

“Me, of course! Stirges has had it in for me since I threw a spanner in his plan to make a political coup right after the Push. A lot of the top brass, along with their supporting politicians, got the chop as a result of the Push campaign failure. Stirges thought he’d swoop in like a vulture and use me to propel him into the limelight.”

“Similar story with me. I was a candidate for a special task group that Stirges was putting together a few years back. An elite team of telepaths and specialists he could use for his nefarious schemes. I blew the whistle on it when I found out what we would be working on. Got me stuck in administration jobs for the last four years, studying first contacts and treaty negotiations.”

“So why did he send you here?”

“I suppose he figured you’d screw up and get your crew floated in the process. Two birds with one stone.”

I chuckled at the unintended pun. “You don’t talk like most Garz’a I know.”

She nodded, a look crossed her face like she had heard that line before. “I’m a goiki. I assume the stigma of telepathic abilities invokes a similar amount of distrust in your own species as it does mine?”

I nodded. “I’ll admit, it does unnerve me, somewhat.”

“Goiki are removed from Garz’a communities when their abilities begin to manifest and sent to the best schools their governments can afford. I’ve been educated by some of the finest minds in the Network, sir. I’ve had to learn to overcome my racial tendencies to shorten my sentences and use as few words as possible to get my message across. Patience is not something my species is renowned for.”

“I didn’t know you were segregated.”

“I don’t like to talk about it, sir. I do intend to speak about your family, however. Hieron Donovan, to be precise.”

I sighed. “What’s he done?”

“He hasn’t done anything, yet.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“He’s not Protectorate,” she said, then held up her hand as I went to speak, “I understand there are a few other crew who are not full Protectorate agents, such as Professor Gaston, but your grandfather appears to be here for no other reason than he was bored. We’re a combat capable ship, sir. That’s no place for a civilian, even one of his experience.”

“Old man Hieron has seen more action than both of us combined. You understand he was an active before the Argessi System was opened, right? He was one of the trailblazers who opened that frontier once the Jump Gate was operational. In that very ship in our hangar bay. He’s here for the same reason you are – advice. I’ve never commanded a ship of this size before. It scares the hell out of me, so much responsibility. He offered to come along on the maiden voyage, watch how I lead and give me feedback. There’s no one else I know more qualified to do that than him.”

“He’s a borderline pirate, with the mannerisms to match. Some of the impressions I get from him are…”

“You read his mind?”

She closed her beak and puffed air out again. “You have to understand – I either have to work real hard to make these abilities work, or they come and go as they please. I have sporadic bursts of insight into what people near me are thinking. I try my best to respect people’s privacy, and I never – ever – mention what I sense to others.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

“Sir, I just wanted you to know what I had picked up. I also wanted to make sure you were not bringing him along just because you missed your family.”

“No, Lieutenant. I did not bring him along because I felt like it. He serves a purpose. Does that meet with our approval?”

“I…sir, it’s my job to make sure you follow Protectorate policy. I don’t mean to insult your family or to disrespect you…”

“Look. I think I understand. You didn’t ask to be here, but you have a strong sense of duty – you’re just trying to do your job to the best of your abilities. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I didn’t ask to be here either. I just know what’s out there, beyond the Network. I also have a sense of duty, I’m just not as formal as you are. Hieron is the same. So is Maxine. You’ll find that I surround myself with like-minded people – we’re not afraid to get our hands dirty and we don’t let formalities stop us from blowing off some steam from time to time. You should hear some of the banter we used to get up to on the Dreaming of Atmosphere.”

“It’s not the informality that has me so put off, it’s the…I don’t know what it is,” she gave me a frustrated look. “Why do none of your people act like they’re on an important mission for the Protectorate? For the Network!”

I laughed. “You haven’t worked with a lot of people before, have you?”

“No, sir. Telepaths tend to be relatively solitary in their work. For obvious reasons.”

“Oh, yeah I suppose that is a good reason.”

“It’s very hard to be around so many people undergoing immense emotional turmoil for prolonged periods of time and not pick up on it. I guess I’m reciprocating.”

“You…are having emotional problems…because people around you are feeling strong emotions?”

“I think so. I’m not normally this out of sorts. I don’t know which emotions are mine and which emotions are the people’s standing about me. I’m concerned that when we go into combat…”

“You’ve never been in combat before?”

“No, sir.”

I sighed. How did I feel the first time I went into combat? I had to think real hard about it. I was scared, that much I remember. That fear never really leaves you, you just learn to use it. You steel yourself against it, use it as a source of motivation.

I suddenly noticed a shift in the way Reza’k held herself. She looked me up and down and took a step back.

“What?” I said.

“You just…you just let a wave a fear wash over you. Like…like water over a stone. I felt that.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. The concern that I was feeling just now…it just evaporated. I feel rather foolish now.”

“You were picking up on my emotions?”

“Your confidence. You’ve…faced a lot of danger in your life?”

I grunted. “You could say that. I’ll admit, I do have a tendency to put myself out there. Let’s just say that life can get very hectic around me.”

She nodded to herself. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, sir. I will try and get my emotions, and my abilities, under better control in the future.”

She turned to leave, but I lightly grabbed her arm. She turned back to face me. “You don’t have to be so uptight. We may be spending a lot of time together on this ship. I’d prefer it if everyone was on more friendly terms, rather than keeping so formal.”

“I’m…not so sure I can do that. But, I will try, Commander. If you’ll excuse me, I have reports to finish.”

I let her leave, pondering her words. I could only imagine the kind of turmoil she must be in, all the random emotions that she can ‘read’ from other people. When we got into combat…I decided I’d have to watch her. I could not afford liabilities, not now.

37.

We were underway, at last, but I still felt an uneasy tension. I put it down to the size of the ship – it had too many moving parts, metaphorically and literally. I felt like I was masquerading as a Commander, I didn’t really belong in command and I was faking it. I worried that I was right – that I was about to lead several hundred people to their deaths on a foolish errand.

I retreated from the bridge to an adjacent office set aside for my use and sat quietly in the dark for some time to think. We had a few hours before the first moon came into range, so I knew I was not needed on the bridge. As if sensing my unease, a chime at the hatch woke me from my brooding. I sent a command to the compartment AI to allow them entry.

In walked Fel’negr and Crege, nodding in greeting and seating themselves opposite my desk. They sat in silence and regarded me.

“What is it?” I asked.

Crege shrugged, while Fel spoke. “We figured you might want some company.”

“Did you now?”

“Woman on bridge,” said Crege, thumbing the hatch behind him, “Says you been pacing.”

“Martine put you up to this?” I asked.

Fel nodded. “You humans do tend to do a lot of pacing while you’re thinking, or brooding.”

“Or getting angry,” said Crege.

“Or impatient.”

“Or nervous.”

I held up my hands. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ve been pacing on the bridge.”

“Having second thoughts?” said Fel.

“That’s normal, right? I’m putting lives at stake…”

“Is good plan. Warrior approves,” said Crege, punching his fist, “Strike like galab!”

“Is this the right course of action?” I said.

“Our doubts are traitors,” quoted Fel, “and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.”

“Kitrak does not put his people at risk beyond what kitrak would be willing to do himself. Always remember, crew chose to follow you. For good reason. Warrior’s only regret is that you will not fly with us again soon.”

I smiled at my friends. “I miss flying with you guys, too.”

Fel shared my smile. “The banter is a little light in the command module without you around. Melafenaseance’s humour is somewhat dry, and unrefined at the same time.”

“I never really stopped and asked what you guys thought of me taking command of the Restitution. I’m sorry.”

Crege waved dismissively at me, making a grunting noise. “Kitrak’s path is his own. Warrior proud to have fought beside you for so long. No regrets there.”

“None,” said Fel, nodding.

We sat in silence for a few moments before I spoke again. “How is the Dreaming these days? How are the upgrades?”

“Old man Hieron approves. Every time he comes on board and runs his hands lovingly over the fittings and consoles, Max gets nervous that he’s going to ask for her back.”

I laughed. “She’d give it to him, too. How did Max afford the Class 1 system? I thought we were almost broke.”

“Lieutenant…sorry, Sub-Commander Ormund offered her the use of some of his family contacts. Low-interest loan, very doable payments. Nothing like ship shares. Should have it balanced after a few jobs.”

“Or once we come back from the nebula with survey data,” I said.

“A very lucrative plan,” said Fel, “Some good thinking, I might add.”

“Will kitrak be riding with warrior then?” asked Crege.

“I think so, yeah,” I said, nodding, “Will be like old times.”

There was another chime at the hatch, which I acknowledged. The hatch opened and Alexander strode in. I could tell by his body language that he was not happy.

“Lieutenant Cohen! What can I do for you?” I said, intrigued.

“Sir! I request permission to join the marine squad deploying on the Blade of Xerxes!”

“I…Kekkin didn’t pick you for his squads?” I said.

“No, sir. Just found out. I asked why and he said to ask you.”

“He did?” I looked at Crege and Fel, they shrugged. No help there. “Okay, why don’t you tell me why you think he didn’t pick you?”

“Sir?”

“Tell me what you think.”

“Well…it’s because of my age! He thinks I’m inexperienced. He…”

“He saw you fighting, he saw you leading on Ambrose Station. I don’t think that’s why. Try again.”

He screwed his face up and stared at his feet. “I haven’t spent much time EVA, or using my new equipment?”

“You have just as much experience as the other squad leaders, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.”

“So what else could it be?”

I could see he was thinking hard. “I’m not sure, sir.”

“How’s the overlay interface proto-chip?”

“It’s…nearly old enough to connect. The headaches have stopped.”

“Right. So you don’t have a fully functional overlay at the moment. Perhaps that would be it?”

“There are other troopers without fully grown proto-chips.”

“And were any of those chosen for Kekkin’s squads?”

He thought for a moment. “I…I’m not sure.”

“How would you coordinate troops you didn’t have line-of-sight to? Corridors on ships can be awfully short and bendy. What if the other squad leaders are killed during the engagement, and you’re the highest ranked marine left? How will your battlenet implant work?”

Crege chuffed. “How will human open doors without latches?”

“Or operate computerised subsystems?” offered Fel.

“I always made do on Ambrose,” said Alex, but I could tell his heart was not in it.

“Most of that station was deactivated,” I said, “Or never had been powered on to begin with. Don’t worry, Alex, you’ll only have to wait a few more weeks before you’re due to connect.”

“But I’ll miss the action!”

“Being a soldier isn’t always about the action. Besides, Kekkin has informed me that you’ve been given a very important role, regardless.”

“He’s put me in charge of the remaining forces in reserve on the Restitution.”

“That’s a pretty vital role, especially if the assault goes sour. You may very well end up leading the marine embarkation.”

“Warrior has heard human fights like garz’a,” said Crege, “Would be honoured to teach lurzak style.”

Alexander smiled for the first time. “No thanks, I prefer my fighting done over long distances.”

“Not a lot of opportunity for that in shipboard combat,” said Fel, “I’ve been told.”

“Speaking of which,” said Crege, turning to me with a grin, “We have more than enough time for a spar before we launch the Dreaming. Been too long since warrior put human in his place.”

“That’s…actually a very good idea. I need to know if I’m rusty after all these months.”

Crege gave me a sheepish look. “Warrior probably is too.”

“How’s the leg?”

“Little human said fully healed. Been practising forms alone since.”

“Well, give me fifteen minutes to get out of my uniform and into some slacks. Er…” I paused halfway out of my seat and winced, “Would someone mind telling me where the gymnasium is?”

“Why bother? Come to Dreaming. Be like old times.”

True to his word, when later I walked up the rear loading ramp into the aft hold of the old ship, a lump caught in my throat. I slowed my pace and took in the nostalgia, really looked around and savoured the moment. The familiar smells, the familiar sight. The random cargo crates in disarray. One day, someone will actually clean up in there.

I remembered my duel with Kekkin, on the Astral Spider, and thought that it was just as well that Crege had suggested the forward hold on the Dreaming. I just wanted a friendly spar, sans cheering crowds and jeering fans.

Crege was already waiting for me, but he was not alone. Kekkin, Max, Fel, Harris and, Renthal had all gathered, seated on crates nearby talking quietly. The Votus, Melafenaseance, was leaving the small armoury as I entered the hold. As I got closer, I also saw Cuts and the two Argen off to one side. I slowed down as they all stopped talking and looked my way.

“What’s going?” I said, “Why do I get the feeling I’ve been set up?”

“Wouldn’t get many more moments like this,” said a familiar voice behind me, “So might as well get you down here before the fireworks start.”

I smiled slyly as my grandfather followed me into the hold. He was carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth.

“Someone going to tell me what this is about?”

“Zoe told us,” said Max, “before we left Collumus. Congratulations!”

“Oh,” I said, grinning from ear to ear as she pulled a bottle of smoky liquid from a crate at her feet, “I don’t think drinking while on duty fits the Protectorate guidelines.”

“You don’t remember our agreement?” she said, popping the lid and gesturing for a tray of glasses that Renthal somehow materialised from nowhere.

“What agreement?” I said.

“When you’re on the Dreaming, I’m in charge. Drink up, Donny.”

She handed me a glass and splashed a measure liberally about the remainder of the tray. When everyone had a drink, Hieron cleared his throat.

“You’ve had a rough couple of years, lad. I’ll give you that. You’ve turned out all right, regardless. Even better, you’ve snagged a bright and intelligent woman to boot, so things haven’t been all doom and gloom. Behind every Donovan, there’s always been a strong woman…”

“Or several in your case, old man,” I said, eliciting a round of chuckles from the crew.

“Okay, okay. There’s always been at least one strong woman behind every Donovan. They haven’t all been in our best interests, but they’ve made us who we are. Zoe may be young, but she’s got plenty of potential. She’ll make a fine partner to you I’m sure.”

“To Zoe!” called out Harris, swiftly echoed by Renthal. The others joined suit and we drank. The liquor burned down my throat but sat warmly in my belly. Fel’s face went red, and the two Argen politely sipped. Alcoholic beverages didn’t sit well with their physiology.

“When we found out,” continued Hieron, “We all went on a mad hunt for a gift before we launched.”

I held up my hands, muttering how unnecessary the gesture was, as he handed me the rolled up bundle of cloth. I unwound it, revealing a shining, mirror-polished lurzak blade, with a decorated grip. It was stunning. I held it up before me and marvelled at it, noting as the light caught it, that the blade was actually translucent.

“What is this material?” I said in awe, “I can see through it!”

“It’s called enhanced graphene,” said Renthal, “With nano weave circuitry along the blade. Comes with an overlay app that maps your moves and the position of the blade to assist with low light combat.”

“Kitrak has earned it,” said Kekkin, pride on his face.

I flicked it around a few times, testing its balance. “It’s incredibly light.”

“Just don’t try and shave with it,” said Harris, “It’s got a monofilament edge.”

“Self-sharpening,” said Renthal, nodding sagely.

“I don’t know what to say, guys,” I said, “I’m in awe of this gift.”

“I’d say let’s hope you won’t ever need it,” said Max, “But we all know how often you get into trouble. At least now we know you’ll have the best equipment money can buy.”

“How much was this?” I asked.

“You don’t want to know,” she said, grinning, “The old man chipped in.”

Hieron clapped me on the shoulder, “Feels good to be spending money on someone other than my wife. By the way, get used to doing that.”

Max playfully jabbed him in the ribs and threw an arm around him, dragging him away. “Come on, old man. Let’s finish this bottle while the kids play with their new toys.”

“Oh, you’re going to do your best to force me to clone my kidneys again, are you? I’ll have you know, I have a new bio-filter!”

“You’re going to need it!” she said, dragging my grandfather up the ladder well to the mess deck above. The pair left the hold, as Crege tossed me a practice blade from the armoury.

I handed my new lurzak to Renthal and hefted the dull metal that Crege had given me.

“Back to these old things, huh?”

“Warrior wasn’t going to let you spar with new blade. Just finished healing from last time we fought together.”

I raised my blade in salute, which Crege reciprocated. “Rules?” I said, the corner of my mouth rising.

“No tricks, no tech,” said Kekkin, standing off to the side, “Just meat and steel.”

We began to circle each other. I could already feel the adrenaline flowing through my body, or was that the booze? All I knew was that it had been a long time since Crege and I had fought, and I found that I relished the opportunity. I’d had a lot of experience since last we crossed blades and planned to give it my all. I knew that to do anything less would be taken as an insult to my friend.

“Watch footing, human,” barked Kekkin. I turned my head slightly to give him a look, I hadn’t figured on him giving me lessons. I shouldn’t have done that.

Crege lashed out with lightning speed, almost slapping my blade out of my grasp. I’d learnt long ago to hold my blade just right, so that such a move would only deflect my angle rather than free the grip from my hand. Even so, I had to back pedal fast as Crege followed through with a spinning double kick aimed directly at my head. My first instinct had been to activate my Spatial Translation Paradigm and teleport behind him but caught myself before I could do so. Another distraction, which cost me more ground as Crege continued his offence.

We reached the edge of the space that had been cleared for us, and still, Crege pressed the advantage. He was slightly slower than he used to be, though. I managed to deflect or evade all his attacks and when he paused to catch his breath I made my move. Borrowing a move I’d seen Artemis perform, I snapped out with my left foot, causing Crege to pull back sharply. I followed through by using my momentum to bring my blade down hard across his guard, pushing him back even more. Unbalanced, he tried to regain his footing, but I spun and kicked him in the head with the tip of my boot.

He fell backwards and I moved in for the ‘kill’, but Crege wasn’t done yet. He kicked up as I approached, flipping up onto his feet nimbly and causing me to halt my dash towards him. We cross blades for several minutes, playing through various forms and stances in classic lurzak fighting styles, neither giving the other an opening.

“Look not to your opponent’s blade,” said Kekkin, “Eyes on the body instead.”

A sharp upward slash opened my guard long enough for Crege to thrust his blade through, but I pulled my body backwards and rolled out of reach. As I rose on one knee I caught his downward stroke, then caught his knee with my cybernetic arm as he tried to knee my face. I pushed hard on his leg, and he stumbled back. I sprang straight at him, slashing left and right with my blade.

When I was close, I dropped my shoulder and barged into him. Once more he fell back, this time onto some crates. Renthal almost caught him and helped him stand. I waited while he rose, panting heavily. He gave me a nod and I was glad to see his breathing also as heavy as my own.

“Kitrak fights well, today,” he said, “Lur shirtan-zak has trained you well.”

Kekkin nodded to Crege. “Without yendag-zak as his foundation, would be as fortress built on sand.”

“You done?” I said, stretching my sword arm.

He thought about it, then nodded. “Warrior accepts honoured defeat. Know what I need to train on now. Next time, will not be so easy.”

I smiled and took his offered forearm in my grip. “Don’t sweat it. I’ve beaten even Kekkin here.”

Crege’s eyes bulged, his beak opened and closed a few times before he spoke. “H…how?”

“I cheated!” I said, eliciting a round of laughter.

38.

Commanding a warship was a completely different experience than being the Captain of a freighter, such as the Dreaming. For one, I was rarely directly involved in anything the ship did. All I had to do was plan a course of action and then give the command to do so. Martine, my First Officer, was invaluable in ensuring that my will was enacted by the crew. There were many more moving parts, metaphorically, than the Dreaming when it came to shipborne actions.

I found that sitting on the bridge for hours became an exercise in tedium. There was simply nothing for me to do, besides watch. The watch keepers kept to themselves, reporting in to their own superiors, who then fed the information to Martine and I. Since everything was going according to plan, we were only manoeuvring, after all, there was very little change in our status beside our location. On the Dreaming, we simply would have stood down from the command module and had free time.

My furlough in the hold of the Dreaming, along with a bout of exercise, took up a few hours. I toured the engineering spaces with Chief Gannerson and then inspected the Jump Drives with Professor Gaston. I noted with approval the extra guard detail on the compartment housing the machine.

The final three hours before we were due to launch the Dreaming were the worst – I could find nothing to do to pass the time that was not a blatant dereliction of duty. So, I sat in my chair on the bridge and studied the Restitution’s systems. I figured it would come in handy.

I already had a decent familiarisation of most of the ship, I had had a hand in her refit designs, but I needed to memorise the details – details such as exact firing arcs, rates of fire, acceleration profiles, redundant systems, power levels, shield strengths and output capacity of the manufactories for the various munitions we could launch from the missile battery. I studied the drone pilot performance logs, flagging those who lagged in ability during the simulations for extra sim time. I ran ‘what if’ scenarios on my command console, seeing what would happen if we lost certain capabilities. I got so engrossed in this information that when the time came to launch the Dreaming, I was startled by Martine’s call from the operations deck below.

“Captain Cooper advises the Dreaming is prepped and ready for launch, commander!” she called up.

I shook myself free of the holographic displays cocooning my seat and stood. I noted the bridge view screens held a countdown to launch. “How are the marines?”

“First Sgt. Kekkin reports that all pax are embarked and secured for launch, sir.”

“Very well. Get me the hangar deck control officer on the comms.”

She gestured to the communications station, and within seconds the enlisted gave her a thumbs up.

“She’s on your chair, sir.”

I sat down and thumbed a control on my armrest. “How’s the deck look, Lieutenant?” I said.

“Clear and ready for launch, sir. Is there anything you need?” said the young officer on the line. I could tell she was nervous, I realised I probably wasn’t helping by contacting her directly. I needed to avoid micromanaging. Taking a backseat was hard for me to do.

“Ah…no. Just wanted to wish you all good luck. Is there any way to give me a live feed from the hangar deck for the launch up on my command chair?”

“I can send a link directly to your overlay, sir, if that would be better?”

“Oh, yes. Please do. Thank you, Lieutenant!”

“My pleasure, sir. Don’t worry, she’s in good hands.”

A link displayed in my overlay, opening it revealed a boxed window showing footage from the hangar cameras. As I watched the last of the deck hands unhooking cables and piping from the Dreaming, another indicator flashed on my overlay – the battlenet connection.

Command MSG MT0.2.47: Kekkin here. The command suite link is solid. Want to test visuals?

You can access a configuration menu from the battlenet app, I texted back, switch off the timestamp info for your messages. They get annoying real fast.

Command MSG MT0.3.04: Roger wilco, Commander.

How are the troops?

Green, but disciplined. Will be warriors soon.

Is Geko up to his usual horseplay?

No, sir. Horseplay leads to med bay. You sure it was a good idea to promote that boy? It does no good for morale when the First Sergeant thumps Corporal. Felt better when he was Private.

I laughed out loud. Yes, Kekkin. He deserved it. We’ve all had some adjusting to do. I’m headed over to the command suite.

I got up and moved to the back of the command deck to the glossy black table. As I approached, Rego looked up from his seat at the foot of it. The holographics sprang to life, still configured to show local space.

“Rego, switch us over to the marine…er…view. Please.”

“Which mode? Spacial, Individual or Squad View?”

“Er…want to run me through them again?

He nodded, flicking a control on the panel before him. The view changed, showing a three-dimensional image of one camera’s view of the aft cargo hold in the Dreaming. An icon showed me it was Kekkin’s feed, pacing before the assembled marines as they lashed themselves into crash harnesses.

“This is the Individual mode,” said Rego, “you can switch between marines sequentially, or by selecting from that pop-up list to your left. You can also display multiple views as a set of tiles. Up to twelve views at once.”

The view changed to a low resolution, isometric view of the hold, which over the next few seconds grew in focus and detail. I could see everyone seated around the compartment outlined in a light green wireframe.

“This is Spacial mode. It takes collated lidar images from all nearby marines and gives you a disconnected, holistic display of the surrounding area. It takes a few seconds to get precise details, the lidar imagery on the VD-I suits is not as good as Valenvaard says it is, but it serves its purpose well enough. The last mode is similar, but two-dimensional and places the position of squad members…”

The image shifted to a top-down view of the deck, with the different squads highlighted in different colours.

“I think I like the Spacial mode best,” I said, “Let’s use that for now.”

Imagery is good, Kekkin. I’m switching it back to local space. I want no splats today. Good luck.

No promises. Ur kah lem, kitrak.

I glanced behind me at the countdown. Two minutes left.

“Comms!” I called, “Open a channel to the Dreaming of Atmosphere, please.”

The reply came up from the deck below, a crisp report that the Dreaming was online. I pressed a control before me.

“How’s the crew, Max?”

“That’s not how a fellow Captain is meant to greet another while on separate ships,” she said. I could practically hear the smile on her face.

“I’m not a Captain, I’m a Commander.”

“You’re still a cheeky bugger, that’s for sure. We’re good here, Donny. You sure we can’t convince you to jump ship and join us?”

“I wish I could, Max. I’m needed up here. How’s the stealth module? Is Tac connected to the sensor nexus?”

“We’re all good, Donny. We know what we’re doing.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay, lad. We’ll be fine. Crege just told me to tell you to stop bothering us and launch us already. You better do it, or he’ll just fly out of here whether you’re ready or not.”

“Ha-ha, all right. We’re all good to go up here. I’ll leave you to Hangar Control.”

I switched off the comms channel and blew the air out of my lungs. It was out of my hands now. I glanced over at Hieron, sitting next to Reza’k off to the starboard side of the command deck. He gave me a slight nod.

“Comms!” I called again, “Keep all external channels on priority. I want to know the moment the Dreaming tries to communicate.”

I leant over the command suite table, my hands disappearing into the holographic depiction of Barris Doon’s tenth moon – a barren, lifeless ball of rock. When Martine called up that the Dreaming had launched, I brought the display into focus around her, watching her pull away from the Restitution. When it was a thousand kilometres from us, I watched as Max engaged the stealth module and closed off all emission ports. The image grew spurious, eventually winking out altogether.

“Sensors!” I called out, “I want one station monitoring for the Dreaming at all times. Let me know the moment that stealth module fails.”

Hieron cleared his throat. I glanced over at him again. “Be careful you don’t paint her with your active sensors,” he said, “If I saw a ship coming at me looking in another direction I’d get curious to see what they were looking for.”

I winced, refraining from slapping my own forehead. “Belay that, sensors! Omni-directional sensors only – nothing directed.”

Hieron nodded sagely.

“Helm!” I called, “Begin first orbital manoeuvre.”

The helmsman repeated the order, turning the ship to catch the gravity well of the moon. We would complete a full orbit of the moon, giving Max and Kekkin enough time to complete their missions. When we had finished the first orbit, we would slingshot to Eovan and gain speed. If Kekkin failed to report success before we left the orbit of our current planetoid, we’d abort and complete a second orbit.

To complicate matters, we had to contend with the fact that battlenet subspace communications had a limited range. The Dreaming would need to lay several buoys as it rounded Eovan, but we could not risk the Xerxes picking up anything nearby. The Dreaming would act as the last buoy, relaying the battlenet to us.

There still remained a risk of detection, but we needed to know whether to proceed with our strike. We simply could not defend against the kind of firepower the Xerxes’ railgun could bring to bear.

With the current phase of our plan well underway, I returned to my command chair. The ship began to vibrate as we increased our acceleration, using the small moon’s gravity to our advantage. I knew that Gannerson would be sweating it as much as I was, although for very different reasons.

I had seven and a half long hours to wait before we were due to hear from the battlenet.

39.

I swam in the warm sea of data motes once more, a languid, peaceful stroke. My gaze drifted to the dark sky above, relishing the peaceful twinkle of stars, devoid of the ominous Eye of Ar’od Dar. Was this really my subconscious? Was this some warning my nanites were trying to communicate to me? These dreams always held some meaning, I was convinced they were more than mere dreams.

What senses I could control I bent to seeing what this dream was trying to tell me. A futile effort. I frolicked with data creatures and dived in sparkling reefs of nanites and nothingness. Then abruptly, all was gone.

I awoke with a start, my head slipping from my upraised palm. “What happened?” I said, startled.

“Nothing, yet,” said Hieron, “You drifted off a few hours ago. We figured you were exhausted.”

“I was. Am.”

“When was the last time you had a decent sleep?”

I grunted. “Been too busy. Couple days at least.”

“Since Barris Doon?”

“Yeah.”

“You need your rest, lad. No good to anyone if you’re half awake.”

I looked around the command deck. “How long do we have left?”

“About forty-five minutes. The others are due back on duty any time now.”

“Have you rested?” I asked.

“Don’t need it. I had that biological need removed several decades ago. The marvels of modern bio-augmentation.”

“Did I miss anything?”

“Nope. Watch shift changed about four hours ago. Both watches will be back on duty in fifteen. Ms Lenser is up, just grabbing a meal from the wardroom.”

The mention of food made my stomach growl. I’d not only been avoiding sleep but skipping meals, too. As I debated getting up for a quick dash to the officer’s mess, Martine stepped onto the Command Deck, a hot meal on a plate in her hands. My mouth instantly watered. When she saw my face, she burst out laughing.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” she said, “Had the autochef spit out some bacon and eggs for you.”

“If I wasn’t already betrothed, I’d marry you right now.”

“Tsk-tsk,” she chided, “You’re a little young for my tastes.”

“Well, now…” started Hieron, instantly perking up.

Martine laughed again. “And entirely the wrong gender. Sorry, Hieron.”

I graciously accepted the offered plate, eagerly gulping down several mouthfuls. Martine stepped back in mock surprise.

“Careful! I almost lost a hand!”

“Mam mungry. Morry,” I said between chews.

In moments I had the plate clean, dabbing the last of the yoke with a corner of toast. I was wiping my mouth clean as the other watch keepers began filing into the operations deck below.

“Thanks, Martine. You’re a woman after my own heart.”

“I figured if I didn’t feed you, you’d skip another meal. You should really look after yourself. I bet if Zoe was here she’d be cross with you.”

“You’re right. I’m just used to other people reminding me of the basics.”

She looked thoughtful. “I can organise for a steward to be assigned to you?”

“A steward? What, like a butler?”

“No. More like a personal assistant. They’ll make sure you have clean uniforms, that your laundry gets done, your meals brought to you. They’ll bring you coffee.”

I instantly began salivating again. The thought of coffee and food tends to trigger the parts of my brain that are more lizard than man.

“That does sound useful…”

Martine gestured towards the ladder well leading down to the operation deck, and a young enlisted crewman came up, a steaming mug in his hands.

“This is Crewman Glenris,” said Martine, “He was one of the wounded that you rescued from Ambrose Station. He practically begged to join the crew but had no trade skills or combat aptitude. He was originally assigned to janitorial duties, but when we procured those Plastoid Industries Utility synthetics last month that kind of made him obsolete. He’s a good worker, so didn’t seem right to put him out of a job.”

I looked him over. He was an Orlii, sheepish and small of stature. If he was here, though, he had to be brave. That was good enough for me.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Glenris,” I said, holding out my hand to shake.

He put the mug into my hand instead of shaking it, which caused Hieron to chuckle.

“Sir,” he said in a small voice, “the…the pleasure is all mine.”

“How old are you?” I said.

“Nineteen, sir.”

“You wanted to be on the Restitution?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“I owe you everything, sir. Seemed the only way I could start to repay you.”

“I didn’t do what I did so that people could repay me.”

“I understand, sir, but this seemed right.”

“You’re okay with helping me out…in a domestic sense, I suppose?”

“Any way I can be useful, sir, I’m happy to help.”

“Okay, know how to use an autochef?”

“I’ve taken night classes on Collumus Station, sir. I can program over a hundred different recipes and beverages. I can press and clean uniforms, I can clean your cabin…”

“Okay, Glenris. Let’s just keep it to meals, for now. I don’t…” I stopped mid-sentence as I caught Martine’s glare, “Alright, I suppose that will free up my time a little. “

“Thank you, sir!” he said, bobbing his head as he backed away.

When he was gone, I turned to Martine. She was shaking her head at me with her hands on her hips.

“What?” I said.

“Have you seen the state of your cabin?”

“I…what’s wrong with it?”

“It looks like a bachelor’s dorm.”

“Well, I…yes I suppose I have been a little too busy to clean up recently.”

Lt Reza’k made her way onto the command deck while we talked. I nodded to her in greeting. She looked to Martine, her feathery eyebrows raised.

“Did he take the steward?” she asked.

“The coffee mug did it.”

She looked pleased. “Good.”

“Were you two conspiring against me?” I said.

“If you’re going to be a proper Protectorate Commander,” lectured Reza’k, “You need to act like it. Publicly and privately.”

I looked over at Hieron, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’ve been living with women for over ninety years. I’m housebroken, lad. It’s easier to just do what they want, believe me.”

“For once, I agree with him,” said Reza’k.

I threw my hands up in mock surrender. “A mutiny! On my own ship!”

How often I’d heard those words, spoken to me by Maxine or Captain Garner, I began to feel a sense of familiarity. I could feel myself starting to bond with this crew. We’d started to banter, the best way I knew to remain sane in high-stress environments. I somehow felt that despite my initial misgivings that we’d turn out okay, after all.

“Sir!” came a cry from the operations deck, “Subspace communications coming online!”

“Relay it to the command suite,” I ordered, dashing over to the table.

At first, I looked at the table in confusion. Normally, Rego handled the operation. When Martine saw me hesitate, she called out to a nearby crew member monitoring another console. He sat down and manipulated a few controls and the table sprang to life. Next chance I get, I said to myself, I’ll learn how to use this thing myself.

“It’s a battlenet recording, sir. Relayed through the comm buoys.”

“How old?”

“Seventy-eight minutes, sir.”

I turned to Martine. “Does that fit with our schedule?”

I could see her gazing into nothing, reading reports on her overlay. “It fits, Kekkin should be either exfiltrated by now or have reported failure of objectives.”

“How long before we have to choose to engage or do another lap?” I asked.

“Twenty-eight minutes.”

Rego entered the command deck and replaced the crewman at the suite controls.

“Give me the last fifteen minutes. Spatial view for now.”

Rego nodded and played with the controls. In moments he had a split view of all three squads as they were in the middle of combat.

“Give me audio of squad leaders and Kekkin.”

Kekkin’s squad was making their way down a passageway in pairs, trading fire as they went with a pursuing force of security people and synthetics. Bravo team was dropping down the main access corridor that ran the length of the ship – a large, central space that allowed rapid transit between decks on any level. As they dropped, slowed by their thruster packs, they fired at several drones that were harassing them. They were down a man, but otherwise, that was the only casualty I could see. Charlie squad was welding several hatches shut in the large hangar deck. Their mission to secure the hangar had already been a success.

“Can we take it back by squad? I want to see if the individual objectives were a success. Alpha first.”

The image around Kekkin grew, pushing the other two out of frame. The action rewound several minutes.

“There! Play from here.”

The image showed Kekkin and his squad mates perform a textbook breach of a compartment. As charges blew apart the access hatches at two points, the squad filed in and split up, shooting several Corporates within seconds. As the compartment came into focus, I could see several large booths and console stations. The marines started to place charges and I realised they had used the last of them.

“Looks like they’ve already hit the magazine and manufactories. This must be the railgun control room.”

Rego nodded. “That’s a Massilov Stone Burner control station. See those waveguides? They feed sensor data to the munitions for targeting parameters.”

When the squad was finished, Kekkin ordered everyone out. As the last to leave, he pulled a hatch shut behind him. The compartment disappeared from the image, but the sound of the charges was unmistakeable.

“Alpha team objectives secure,” said Kekkin, “Moving to Charlie squad. Bravo leader, report.”

“Bravo objectives secure,” came Renthal’s voice, “Urals is down, ran into Frikk reinforcements.”

“Do you need support, Bravo?”

“Negative, Alpha, mopping up the last of them now.”

“Roger, proceed to Charlie when you can.”

“Roger, Alpha.”

“Charlie,” barked Kekkin, “Report!”

“Hangar secure,” said Harris, “Minimal resistance. Fortifying commenced. Sending access points to you now.”

“Receiving. Send those to Bravo leader, too.”

“Isn’t he coming down the pipe?”

“That’s the plan, but warrior always needs a backup.”

“Roger.”

I blew out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. They’d done it. “Bring us up to when they meet up in the hangar. We need to see if they made it out of there.”

The image fast-forwarded several minutes, stopping when the image showed all the squads in the hangar. Rego slowed the recording down to regular speed and we started watching again as Kekkin set up a defensive guard in the hangar.

Harris had sealed most of the access hatches to the hangar, but the Corporates were trying to cut their way through the bulkheads and hatches. As openings were made, Kekkin and his marines fought back, cutting down dozens of synthetics and Corporate mercs. Why hadn’t he launched from the hangar already?

Eventually, the counter attack slowed as the Corporates pulled back to reassess their strategy for taking back the hangar. Kekkin used the break to address a nearby marine’s comm unit.

“Commander,” said Kekkin into the marine’s helmet feed, “Warriors destroyed railgun and propulsion but were unable to reach the Xerxes’ point defence controls. Suspect they’re located on the bridge. Too risky. Can’t launch exfil shuttle just yet. Will hold until Restitution makes initial strike. Will mark IFF of shuttle with the following code…”

Rego perked up. “Logging the code into fire control systems. We won’t shoot him down, at least. If he makes it out of there, anyway.”

“…sending the sensor data from the Dreaming, count fourteen contacts in escort. Repeat, fourteen escorts. Three Destroyers, two Corvettes, nine merc Transport class ships. One docking platform, two battery hardpoints.”

“Feed that to the operations deck,” I said, “Let’s get a situation prepared and start assigning targets for our strike.”

I turned to Martine, who was looking nervous, but resolute. “I want firing solutions as soon as we have visual. Drones will deploy immediately after the first salvo, keep them on point defence until we’re approaching periapsis. We should have their attention by then. We’re going to come around too fast after that for us to collect them, so make sure we get them back on board before we complete the flyby.”

The initial strike was going to be easy, relatively, it was the second engagement that had me worried. We needed to inflict as much damage as we could to the Xerxes in as short a time as possible. Our initial plan was still to force the Captain of the Xerxes to surrender, we were hoping the strike would give him pause before ordering his allies to defend him. It was only him we wanted, after all. On the recommendation of Reza’k, we would broadcast on all channels our terms of surrender, the warrant and a promise of amnesty for all Corporate allied forces who withdrew without engaging. It was Hieron who advised we add a threat of destruction for all those who chose to defend the Xerxes.

I approached the rail overlooking the operations deck.

“Comms, open a channel on main broadcast, please. I wish to address the crew.”

“Channel open, sir!”

“All hands, this is the Commander speaking. As we approach our first engagement, I’d like to share a few words. I don’t know what I need to say to put your fears at ease or to put steel into your hearts, but I know that you do have that steel. I saw it as we escaped Gossamer. I saw it on the walls in Ambrose University, and in the plaza below the space elevator. Take a look around you, at those you work with. Not all of you were there, but it still takes guts to volunteer on a ship such as this. You all know what our mission is and what’s at stake. This may be a detour, but it’s necessary. We can’t live in a galaxy that allows Corporate greed to dictate our futures. We need to show these Corporates that the Protectorate is serious about its mandate. That we’re serious about our mandate.

“We put these Corporates in their place, and when we leave it will be a safer Network for all. Safer to go after the Ghantri and stop them from waking up their dead gods.”

40.

“Thirty seconds to visual range,” reported Martine.

I was back in my command chair, eagerly watching the big screens about the bridge. Rego had relayed local sensor information to the bridge screen projectors, and now the space above the operations deck was a massive holographic image of the coming battlefield.

I glanced to my left and right, confirming for the umpteenth time the status indicators of the various sections of the ship. I pressed the main broadcast control.

“All hands, secure to acceleration couches! Entering combat range in two minutes.”

As we rounded Eovan, real-time updates started to appear, correcting the placement of earlier contacts.

“Comms!” I called, “Start the broadcast! Helm, turn to green three-zero!”

The shuddering of the ship lessened as we left the immediate gravity well of Eovan and broke free of its orbit. It took a couple of seconds, but the mercs surrounding the organo-ship sprang into action.

The Destroyers, almost as well armed as the Restitution, would pose a problem in the coming engagement, so we had designated them as secondary targets for the first strike.

“Contacts coming about!” called Martine below. Sure enough, several of the ships started to accelerate on intercept vectors.

“Fire as soon as solutions are locked!” I called.

“Missile battery tracking!” called the Gunnery Chief. “Salvo away! Time to intercept, thirty-nine seconds!”

“Port battery firing!”

“Starboard battery firing!”

The bridge reports started calling out, loud and clear as the dull thudding of the batteries reverberated through the ship and I started checking the indicators on my command chair. As each operation commenced, icons flashed on my personal holographics. I could have had them fed directly to my overlay, but I knew if I did there was a very real chance I’d get distracted by them. No, I thought, better I place them where I could check them as needed.

The second missile salvo was away, both headed for the Xerxes. The hardlight batteries on either side of the ship would be targeting the docking platform at first, then track along the hull of the Xerxes. The drones started launching, assuming defensive screens about the ship. The third missile salvo, twenty seconds after the first, was aimed at the closest of the Destroyers. By the time the fourth was due, the first would strike the forward sections of the Xerxes. We would alternate a salvo between the Xerxes and each Destroyer until we ran out of missiles – nine salvos all up.

It would take us just over three minutes to perform our pass, reach apsis and then veer back toward Eovan for another orbit. This second orbit would be spent decelerating, readying our ship to engage on our second pass. Plenty of time for the Corporates to get together a defence, but if they were paying attention during the first pass, they may be able to retaliate before we got out of range again.

“Detonations detected!” called out a sensor operator, “First salvo on top!”

“Now’s your chance, Kekkin,” I said to no one, “Get your arse out of there, birdman!”

I watched the display nervously as the second salvo hit, registering damage across sections of the Xerxes’ hull. The third salvo struck its target – the closest Destroyer.

“Secondary explosions reported on target,” reported the operations deck, “Destroyer alpha losing power! Life pods launching!”

A cheer went up through the bridge. I didn’t join them, I knew there was much more to do before we could celebrate.

“Weapons release detected!”

I looked down to the operations deck. “Which contact fired?”

“Destroyer bravo and two Transport class ships!”

“Analyse the attacks! What have we got?”

“Class 2 beam and missile weapons. Drones launched from the following targets…”

Drone contacts started to appear on the display, but I paid them no mind. We were simply going too fast for them to engage us. Our drones could handle the missiles, and I was reasonably sure our shields would take the beamer shots.

Sure enough, the ship’s hull vibrated with the energy of the beams as it lanced across our hull. The shield operator reported no penetration. No damage so far.

My eyes drifted back to the Xerxes, trying to gauge the level of damage we’d inflicted. All the missile strikes were aimed at suspected weapon and sensor locations, rather than trying to destroy or disable the ship – Kekkin had already immobilised it and robbed it of its ship killer weaponry. We just needed to make sure it was wounded enough for the Captain to give pause to continuing the conflict by the time we engaged for real on our second pass.

Reports of the damage we’d inflicted started coming in faster as our weapons reached their targets more frequently. Our drone screen dealt with several missile strikes against us, and as we passed a picket ship we lost several drones to its Class 1 weapons, otherwise our damage was minimal. As we neared apsis – the farthest point from the orbit of Eovan that we would reach – we started to steer the ship back towards the moon.

“Recall all drones!” I called. Any drones we didn’t recover before we started our next orbit we would have no chance of recovering before we got out of range. They’d be left behind and destroyed by the defenders.

Another cheer rang out as the destruction of the docking platform was announced. As close as we were, the main view screens captured the explosion as the starboard batteries hammered the platform and ignited a fuel reserve of helium-3. It was a brief, but violent blast, destroying a smaller Transport nearby.

“Incoming fire from the Xerxes and Destroyers bravo and charlie!” called the operations deck, “Hardlight munitions!”

I opened the main broadcast channel. “All hands! Brace for impact!”

In seconds, the distant thud of rounds impacting on our hull vibrated through the ship’s superstructure.

“Damage report!” I called.

“Shields are down, capacitors recharging. Hull breaches detected. Bloom systems have sealed all breaches. No casualties reported.”

The new bloom system was a recent development in damage control systems. Compartments close to the outer hull were fitted with special sensors that would detect the loss of pressure and deploy a nanite ‘bloom’. This bloom would naturally be sucked towards the breach, but when the nanites detected the nearness of other nanites as they entered the hole, they would link up into chains and form a plug, much like polycrete foam. Over the course of ten minutes, the bloom would harden to the consistency of hull plating. Blooms only work on breaches smaller than a metre diameter, but they were very effective. A breach bigger than a metre would usually mean the compartment was destroyed, regardless.

We started to drift, swinging out to face the moon once more and began pouring on the thrust. The ship began to shake violently and gee-forces pushed everyone back into their seats.

“Missile’s depleted!”

“Starboard battery,” I called, “Focus on the Xerxes! Port battery target nearest Destroyer!”

More hits started to smash against our hull, their placement suggesting random shots from frantic fire control crews. Our armour held.

“Periapsis reached!” called Martine from below, “All drones secured.”

“Good job!” I called.

“Leaving combat range!” called the operations deck. In moments the dull thudding of our batteries ceased, and the impact sound of enemy fire died off.

I turned back to Rego, strapped in at the command suite. “Did you see where Kekkin’s shuttle went?”

“I tracked it for about two minutes,” he said, “When they were clear of the Xerxes they performed an axial deployment, then I lost them all. They probably made it to the Dreaming.”

Reza’k broke in. “You’re telling me the Dreaming caught three dozen marines drifting in open space at high speed?”

“They did have thruster packs,” responded Rego.

“But still…”

“Crege is a hell of a pilot,” I said, “I’ve seen him do some crazy stunts before.”

She just shook her head in disbelief. I had to admit, if that was what happened, Crege out did himself. Reza’k was right – catching that many marines in the rear of the ship was an incredibly precise manoeuvre. I found myself smiling as I imagined Crege’s smug look as Max clapped him on the shoulder as he pulled off that move. I was betting Kekkin had a hand in planning that move as well. Trust a pair of crazy Garz’a to attempt something like that.

More detailed damage reports started to appear on my displays as damage assessments were performed. Now that the initial combat was over, people were free to move about the ship and confirm the damage. I decided to check in with Gannerson.

“How’s she holding, Chief?” I said into my chair’s mic.

“Pretty darn well, I must say.”

“No loss of capability? No propulsion hits?”

“None. Looks like those Collumus engineers were worth what the Protectorate was paying them, after all.”

“You need anything?”

“Nope, we’re all gold down here, sir.”

I stood up and stretched, then leant over the rail to watch the operations deck activity. The crew were shaking each other’s hands and hugging. I let them have their moment of elation, I did not need to remind them that in a few short hours we’d be back in combat once more, possibly for a lot longer.

“First Officer,” I called, “Could you come up and bring the fire controllers, the sensor station operators and the drone squadron leader up with you, please?”

“Aye, sir!’ she said, grinning.

I walked over to the command suite and asked Rego to display the recorded battle.

When everyone had arrived, I started. “Well done, everyone. That strike was well executed by all stations. The battle’s not over yet, though. We’re going to go over the battle, assess the damage to the other ships and work on strategies should they choose to engage us when we come back around. Any questions before we start?”

Hieron and Reza’k came up to the table, and the Garz’a woman held her hand up. I nodded for her to go ahead.

“How much time are we going to give the Corporates to capitulate?”

“Is there a Protectorate policy I need to follow on this?”

“As far as I know, the exact wording is something along the lines of ‘a reasonable amount of time’.”

“How about the time it takes for us to come around Eovan again?”

“That should be enough time for them to reconsider. I took the liberty to record all communications, internally and externally, before, during and after the engagement. In case the Corporates choose to sue for grievances.”

“Anything I need to be aware of?”

“Everything looks legal. We issued the warrant on all channels, along with the offer of amnesty. I also recorded the registration of all merc ships that fired upon us. We may have some difficulty explaining the pre-emptive strikes on the Destroyers, though.”

“Any legal leg room to move around that?”

She nodded, “I can put it down to a tactical decision. That none of them were destroyed works in your favour. I can put down that you deliberately withheld fire from them, up until you opened up with the port battery. Was that entirely necessary?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Hieron beat me to it. “That Destroyer had landed fifteen consecutive hits by that time. The bastard is lucky we didn’t put another missile salvo on it. We should definitely target that ship for destruction.”

Reza’k turned to face him. “That would be unnecessary brutality. We need to give them time to reconsider their attack. Disabling shots only, no more missile salvos on the escort ships. Xerxes only, please.”

“Listen here, little girl,” started Hieron, raising his finger to jab at her.

“That’s enough,” I cut in, “Both of you. I’ll consider your advice.”

The pair continued to glare at each other but remained silent.

“How many salvos can we build by the time we re-engage?” I asked Martine.

The missile system, able to launch dozens of missiles at once, had a finite supply of missiles. We’d emptied the magazine during the strike, but the Restitution had a set of manufactories. These automated factories could produce missiles to replace those fired, using stored raw materials and components, but they would take time to manufacture and rearm.

“We should have three full salvos, and a partial salvo by the time we get within range again,” she reported.

I looked to the Gunnery Chief, a short and stout near-human with a reddish complexion. “What’s your advice on those shots, Chief Ensel?”

“Ah, we should probably put them onto the Xerxes, sir. Our batteries can handle the Destroyers, but the hull plating on the organo-ship is an unknown variable.”

I nodded. “If we can punch a hole in it, we can focus the hardlight batteries there and cut her in two, if need be.”

The hardlight batteries were split into two groups, port and starboard, indicating their firing arcs. Each battery contained five independent guns, usually linked to fire as a single battery for maximum destruction, but as we were outnumbered we might need to split them into multiple arrays. I addressed the two battery controllers, a male and female human.

“Whichever arc has a solution on the Xerxes, split your fire between weapon hardpoints and sensor emitters, unless you’re instructed to target a weakened hull point – then link up for battery fire. The other battery will target the Destroyer closest to the Restitution. If the Destroyers are disabled or pull out, split your fire up onto the Corvettes and then Transports.”

I gestured to the sensor operators, three humans, an Argen, and two Orlii. There was another operator still on station – it would be foolish to completely pull the sensors from their stations. “You were each tasked with monitoring different aspects of the battle. Let’s start with a damage assessment of the targets,” I pointed to one of the Orlii.

She cleared her throat. “The Destroyers took a beating, the first one is definitely disabled. I believe a second will be close, if not disabled already. I read power fluctuations during the final fifteen seconds of the fight, but it was still firing as we pulled around Eovan. The third suffered only minor damage, but the starboard sensor arcs are almost blind.”

I pointed to one of the humans. “The Xerxes? What did our salvos do to it?”

“Without more data on the strength of her hull…”

“Make a guess based on visual evidence,” I said, slowing down an image captured on the table. Several others leant closer to examine it. The second Orlii was the first to answer.

“It had difficulty bringing its hardlight weaponry to bear,” she said, “See these two pods? They were the only two to fire. Most of the hits we took were from the escort Destroyers.”

One of the other humans highlighted a section close to the rear of the main bulge. “Thirty percent of the missiles struck within fifty metres of this location. We didn’t get enough footage to be sure, but if there’s a weak point, it will be there.”

I gestured to Gunnery Chief Ensel. “Can you target that location?”

He smiled emphatically. “I can probably hit anywhere on that beast.”

I nodded and pointed to another sys-op. “No damage to picket ships or other escorts, sir,” they reported.

“The platform explosion damaged one of them, sir,” said the Argen. The previous operator apologised.

“It’s okay, there was a lot going on back there,” I said, “Anyone pick up comms? Anyone take us up on our amnesty offer?”

There was a round of negatives.

“Worth a shot. How about weapon signatures?”

“Nothing exotic,” said one of the humans, “Beamers, Class 2 missiles, the Destroyers had hardlight batteries, although their rates of fire were less than ours. So was the number of guns in each battery.”

Another of the humans spoke up. “Most of the smaller ships didn’t get off any shots, but those that did were limited to Class 1 and 2.”

“What about those that didn’t fire? Did we get a good look at their capabilities?”

The last human answered. “The optics picked up similar weapon placements, although I can’t rule out hidden ports. From First Sergeant Kekkin’s report on the Candrus 2nd Battallion and the Rizan Raiders, we can identify seventy percent of the escorts. The ship’s database has some intel on them, so I’ll forward that to you within the hour, sir.”

“Thank you. On to drones…Did we get a count of enemy numbers there? What do the intel reports say about those ship’s drone capabilities?”

“We should be evenly matched,” said Martine, “Although the enemy will have more experience.”

“Not on this scale,” corrected Hieron, “We’ll have the advantage – all our drones are controlled by a single ship, they’ll have to coordinate between several.”

“What’s our drone status?” I asked.

The drone squadron leader, a Garz’a male, made his report. “All surviving drones recovered. Warriors lost seven drones, two from wings four and five, three from wing one.”

“Are we able to replenish?”

“Twenty drones in reserve, kitrak.”

“When we engage again, I want thirty percent of your forces on point defence, thirty percent on space superiority, the rest can engage targets of opportunity. Preferably the smaller escort ships. We can’t afford to waste hardlight battery shots on them while the larger vessels are operational. We also don’t want to give those Transport free reign. I’ll leave targeting up to you, but be prepared to divert forces to assist other objectives as we call them.”

He nodded. “Warrior will divert attack wings if needed, superiority drones will be too engaged to respond quickly.”

“You know what you’re doing, use your discretion.”

“Aye, aye, kitrak”

I turned to Martine. “Do you have anything to add, First Officer?”

She addressed the assembled crew. “Keep those lines of communication going. Talk to each other, don’t just use your station icons. Matherson, you need to keep watching both your sensor streams, so try and switch between them more regularly.”

One of the human sensor operators nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

I clapped my hands together. “It was a good start, ladies and gentlemen. Keep it up. Dismissed.”

When the enlisted had left, I turned to Martine, Hieron and Reza’k.

“How’d I do?”

Hieron spoke first. “You did good, lad, but you need to strike while the iron is hot. I reckon you caused more than a few of these Corporate bastards to shit themselves.”

“Charmed,” said Reza’k, “I have nothing further to add, sir.”

I turned to Martine. “You’ve had experience on a Danghar Cruiser, before. Am I using her right? My bridge demeanour on the right tone?”

“Cruisers are fast, heavily armed and, in the case of a Danghar, multirole. I’d say you used her pretty damn well. The addition of the Dreaming to our arsenal is a great advantage – stealth marine deployment! We’ve essentially crippled a ship three times our size while outnumbered and outgunned. Those are good outcomes.”

“The battle’s not done yet. We did have the advantage, too. Surprise is a powerful force multiplier. We won’t have that in the coming conflict.”

“Sir, it was intelligent usage of our assets that gave us that surprise. Your mind is our most powerful weapon, never forget that.”

Reza’k smiled at that last comment, nodding to Martine.

I pondered her words for a few moments, then gestured at the table. “Okay, we’ve got…two hours and thirteen minutes to plan for this next battle. Let’s see what mayhem we can cause next.”

41.

Our planning was limited to what we could guess of the enemy’s placement since there was no way the Corporates would remain in their original locations. Besides the Blade of Xerxes, that was. The only way to get that moving was to tow it. We could not afford to count the second Destroyer out of commission either. Chances were, they had a top notch repair system working to fix any damage we had inflicted. If the Captain of the Xerxes was serious about fending us off, he’d be counting on getting that Destroyer operational at all costs.

I briefly considered doing a second high-velocity pass, I hated giving them time to repair the carnage we had caused thus far, but tactically it didn’t make sense – without a full missile magazine, our impact would be much reduced. The only way we could control this coming battle was to maintain a sustained damage output.

Ten minutes into the planning session we were interrupted by Chief Gannerson delivering his report in person.

“Needed to get my own eyes on a troublesome coupling up this way anyway,” he said, “Figured you might want to hear my recommendations about the girl’s performance.”

“What do you mean?”

“We might not need to slow down during this orbit, we can just do a full power assist.”

“You’re not worried about hull stress?”

“That’s just it. I’ve had scan packages all through the structure during the last few hours. So long as we don’t get too close to Eovan, we should be okay.”

“Can we decelerate sufficiently to engage?”

“On the last stage of the orbit, we flip the ship around and burn full thrust as we approach. Flip back just before we reach firing range.”

“They’re going to see us coming a long way off…” I said.

He chuckled. “They’re going to be looking for you, anyway. This way you can get into position before they’re ready. Maybe.”

I had to admit, I liked the idea.

“How much time will we save?”

Martine ran the numbers. “We can shave forty-eight minutes off if we start the manoeuvre within the next five minutes.”

“Do it,” I turned to face the bridge view screens and saw the countdown to the next engagement update. “Just over an hour to go, then. Good work, Chief.”

The large man nodded and left.

“That also means we’ll only have two salvos ready to fire in the missile magazine,” reminded Martine.

“It will have to do,” I said as Alexander entered the bridge, at my request.

“Sir?” he said, snapping a crisp salute.

“At ease, Alex. We’re going to have to plan for the possibility that some of those mercs will get boarders through our drone screens. I want you to draw up a troop dispersal plan in order to respond as quickly as possible, without putting anyone at risk. That means they have to be near acceleration couches or crash harnesses.”

“Might I also suggest arming the crew?” he offered, “Especially here on the bridge?”

I nodded, thinking back to my time on the Xerxes – the number of unarmed crew I had gunned down. “I’ll get my PX-2 and lurzak. We’ll issue weapons from the bridge locker. You have my authorisation to issue as many crew as you can from the armoury – standard sidearms only, no cowboys.”

Martine cleared her throat. “Send Glenris for your weapons. You need to be here.”

I shook my head. “You’re right. I suppose he is pretty handy to have around.”

“Should I show you my plan before implementing?” asked Alex.

“No. I trust your judgement. Kekkin wouldn’t have put you in charge if he didn’t either. Just put it into effect ASAP. You have less than an hour. Oh, and make sure you keep the Jump Drive compartment secured. I want you personally overseeing its defence if we’re boarded.”

He threw another salute and dashed from the bridge. Martine spoke briefly with my steward, who was hovering off to one side. He left at a run.

Hieron grunted. “We should split up those two salvos and take out as many of the smaller craft as we can, fast as we can. We could then use the drones to pinpoint weak spots and hardpoints on the other ships.”

Before Reza’k could turn on him, I held up a hand to forestall the tirade. “We can’t do that, Hieron. We have to give those ships the chance to stand down. They don’t pose as high a risk as those capital ships. Our drones can keep them busy, and they can provide adequate point defences. Our shields should hold, the marines can take care of the rest.”

“What if those two salvos aren’t enough to crack that organo-ship’s armour? It will be a wasted effort.”

“No. It’s a risk I have to take. The Admiralty will be watching how I behave, so I have to play by the rules for this one.”

Reza’k seemed pleased by my answer. “You still think the Corporates would make a play for the Drive during combat?” she said.

I nodded, rubbing my hand over the rough stubble forming on my chin. “If it was me planning the attempt, I’d at least make a play while we were distracted. Seems a likely time for us to be worried about other events going on.”

“Sorry I’ve not been any use uncovering any of your spies,” she said, “At least you don’t think I’m one of them now.”

I grunted. “How’re the nerves?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Not bad. I’m a reciprocal telepath, so I tend to amplify what other people are feeling. So far the crew’s been tense but confident. They have a lot of faith in you, and it shows.”

“So if everyone around you is feeling courageous, so do you?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that but close enough for a layman. It gets very confusing for me when there are a lot of mixed emotions, but when there is one dominant emotion I can find it overpowering.”

“So…if I keep an eye on you, I can gauge how everyone else is feeling?”

“If I’m close to you, you can tell how you are feeling, too. Keep that in mind.”

The shuddering motion of the ship increased as we skirted the upper reaches of the moon’s gravity. I gripped the command table to steady myself.

“We should probably get into our seats,” said Hieron, “The inertial stabilisers aren’t as good here as the Dreaming’s. Going to be a bumpy ride.”

“Rego,” I called, “Relay the command suite’s battle configuration to my chair’s holographics, but keep an eye on the bigger picture. It would be just our luck for the Corporates to have reinforcements on the way.”

He indicated my seat had the data and started playing with the display. I crab-walked to my seat, keeping one hand on the railing as I did so. When I was seated I checked through the sensor feeds and found which ones I thought would be useful for the coming fight. I began strapping myself in as Glenris returned with my PX-2 and my new lurzak blade. I clipped them to my belt and nodded my thanks. He shimmied over to a vacant chair.

Before me spread a smaller scale depiction of local space, the Restitution displayed in a central location. As we moved, objects would move relative to us, keeping the ship as the focus. With a thought, I could shift the focus to anything the sensors picked up, such as an incoming ship or missile. I could split the view to show several objects as a focus simultaneously, although I found that more than a few foci were too much information for me to process at once. With practice, though, I knew I could utilise the system more adeptly. For now, I relied on the bridge staff and Martine to notify me of anything important that I might miss. I had similar feeds given to Hieron and Reza’k as well, but only Hieron showed any interest in toying with the system. The Garz’a woman merely stayed on the main view, watching with interest as we orbited the moon.

As we picked up speed again, I could feel the way the ship vibrated and shuddered. It wasn’t just the stress caused by the gravity we were cutting through, but the Linus Drives burning hard thrust. As we came around the far side of Eovan from the Blade of Xerxes an alert sounded, indicating high-gee manoeuvres were about to commence. I lashed myself into my seat with a crash harness and the alert began to flash an angry red light.

“All hands,” came a pipe from Martine, “Brace for high-gee.”

After her warning, the ship ceased accelerating and began to flip end-over-end. The inertial stabilisers nullified most of the effects of the spin, but for a moment my heart was in my throat. Then it was over, we were facing away from the Xerxes.

This was a crucial stage of the manoeuvre – as we began braking, we were exhibiting just as much thrust as when we were accelerating. The resultant propulsion wake made sensor readings difficult to make out aft of us. Conversely, the enemy would see a very bright, very hot target heading their way. We had to time the next move very carefully. We needed to get ourselves down to a speed where our weapons would be effective, and we needed to do it before we were within range – otherwise we’d be presenting the enemy with our juicy rears.

Martine’s bridge gurus were working furiously on the math, trying to get it right. Too soon, and we would be going too fast to accurately place our shots. Too late and we open our vulnerable side up to enemy fire. The effects of deceleration were felt by everyone, pressing us into our seats.

“Eleven minutes to engagement.” called one of the sensor operators, monitoring our position relative to the Xerxes’ last location.

“Receiving incoming communication, commander!” called the comms station.

“They’ve decided to surrender?” I asked, hopefully.

“No, sir, it’s the Dreaming of Atmosphere.”

No less happy to take this call, I activated a button on my seat. “Max?”

“Still not following communication protocols?” she said.

“Where are you? We can’t pick you up, yet.”

“That’s kind of the point of a stealth module, Donny. We’re passing on your starboard side. All marines accounted for. Kekkin reports mission success.”

“We saw. That was some move Crege pulled, catching those marines.”

“Yeah, he thought you’d like that. We’re heading straight to Barris Doon, this is no fight we’re equipped to help out with.”

“Understood. Get on out of here, Max. I’ll catch up with you at Collumus Station, my shout.”

“Good luck. Dreaming out.”

“Terminus reached!” came the helmsman’s report from below, “Aligning for combat vectors!”

Once more, we flipped the ship over, although the forces acting on us were significantly less.

“Contacts incoming!” called the sensor stations operators, several of them talking over each other.

True to their word, contacts began appearing on my displays. The smaller merc vessels were forming up into picket formations, probably intending to screen the Xerxes from another lightning raid like before. The space around them was abuzz with hundreds of smaller contacts – drone swarms and inert missile deployments.

“Scramble the drone wings!” I ordered, “Get that screen up, fast!”

“Launching all wings!” called the drone squadron leader. A flurry of calls went up among the drone pilots situated below the command deck platform.

“Look at the Xerxes, lad!” called Hieron.

I flicked my view over to focus on the organo-ship to find it slightly out of place from where it had been floundered by our marine strike. One of the Destroyers was attempting to pull it out of orbit.

“What are they trying to do?” I mused.

“Who cares,” said Hieron, thumping the palm of his hand with a fist, “Take your shot at that Destroyer now, before they uncouple and get free.”

“All batteries, target Destroyer bravo!” I called. A moment later, the dull thudding of the hardlight batteries could be heard over the din of the engines.

Firing long range shots such as this was normally an exercise in futility, as even a Destroyer had enough time to accelerate out of the way of hardlight rounds over distance. Uncoupling from the Xerxes was going to take time, however, time the Destroyer didn’t have. As our aspect took us directly toward our target, we could fire both batteries at once – a circumstance I took full advantage of.

“Enemy drones approaching!” called sensors.

“Superiority drone wings engaging!” called the drone leader.

As I watched and waited for the hardlight rounds to find their mark, I watched the two clouds of drone swarms clash. As they merged, our sensors lost track of the individual flyers, unable to accurately depict our drones from theirs. The drone pilots below started calling out to each other, forming tactics to deal with the enemy micro-fighters.

Even a ship as large as the Restitution couldn’t afford to ignore drones, as an unimpeded swarm could cause significant damage to sensor housings, weapons and even get inside our emissions ports. Enough of them can even disable us. We seemed to be on even footing, matching their drone numbers at least. I only hoped our pilots were better than theirs.

I began to have second thoughts about what Hieron said. If we took out a number of the smaller ships – surely the controllers of those drones – we could let our drones have free reign over the battle space. Tactically, it made sense. Morally, though, Reza’k was right. I had to play by the books for as long as I could. I just hoped it wouldn’t cost me the battle.

“Enemy missiles in range!” called sensors, “Drone defences engaging!”

“Point defences online!” called one of the weapons operators.

Besides the sound of the hardlight batteries, we could hear nothing of the raging violence outside the ship. The bridge was abuzz with the chatter of the various console operators and the pilots working together, with the occasional chime or alert sounding from a station or display.

With satisfaction, I began to see the first of our hardlight rounds strike our target. We hadn’t stopped firing, adding to the carnage we were inflicting upon the hapless ship.

The last Destroyer hadn’t been idle either. It moved towards us, trying to draw our fire by crossing close to our weapon streams. The smaller ships were scattering, weaving to and fro to avoid the few wings we spared to harass them. So long as they were occupied they would not be a threat to us.

“Launches detected! Contacts emerging from the Blade of Xerxes!”

“What are they throwing at us?” I called, “Full sensor spectrum.”

I remembered all too well the slew of technology the Xerxes had at its disposal. I had to know as soon as possible the threat these new contacts posed.

“Sir!” called one of the operators, “Reading high-level magnetic fields around the contacts. The AI suggests they’re boarding pods.”

“Optics confirms! Contacts are KX Talon pods.”

I swivelled in my chair, turning to face Rego. “What have we got on that model?”

Rego called up a spec sheet and hastily scanned the data. “Synthetic payload, high-velocity boarding pod. They won’t slow down.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen these before. Alex,” I called into my comms mic, “You got synthetic boarders on their way. Expect large mechs and assault synthetics.”

“Roger, Commander,” came the reply.

I looked at the engaged swarms of drones, there were too many enemy drones left to disengage and target the pods. The drones we used to harass the smaller ships were also too far away, that left our point defence drones and point defence weapons. If the pods were high velocity, I didn’t like our chances of taking them all out before they reached us. I only hoped that Alex and the remaining marines were up to the task of repelling them.

I checked our ranges, trying to see how near we were to launching our missile salvos. If we could get our missiles off after enemy defence drones were dealt with, we’d have a greater chance of damaging the Xerxes. I ordered the drone squadron leader to send his attack drones to harass the organo-ship and entice its defending drones to engage, or having failed that, to target any point defence weapons they could destroy near where we planned to strike.

I flicked back to the damaged Destroyer, it had managed to disengage the tether connecting it to the Xerxes, but the damage was already done. Venting atmosphere was clear on the display, and the ship was listing to one side. It had yet to return fire. When life pods started ejecting from all angles, I clenched my fist in victory. As the last few rounds smashed into its hull, a bright flash told us a reactor had ignited and the ship was truly doomed. A short cheer went up below as the ship’s destruction was announced.

“Weapon’s release detected! Incoming hardlight fire!”

“All hands!” I called on the main broadcast, “Brace for impact!”

A frightened gasp rang out from below as the bridge view screens flashed a brilliant colour when the first of the enemy fire from the remaining Destroyer reached us, striking close to the bridge.

“Shields holding!” called a systems operator, “Forward screens weakening!”

I thumbed the control for engineering communications. “Gannerson! Shunt power from the rear to the forward shield arrays! We’ve got no enemies behind us right now.”

He acknowledged the command and I saw my power levels realign. The systems operator reported an increase to shield recharge rates, but I knew that repetitive hits would cause them to fail. Unlike the Dreaming, the shields on the Restitution were military grade, with multiple projectors for the effect. We could continue to shunt power between the shield emitters, but once one was depleted it would take time to reform the nanite lattice to generate the shielding effect. From then on, it would be only our armoured hull protecting us from the icy depths of space.

“Helm!” I called out below, “Roll us to port, thirty degrees, let’s give our forward shields time to recover.”

The ship started to change its aspect relative to the incoming fire, and we began to hear reports of shields taking fire across various parts of the ship.

A loud bang caused a few people to cry out in alarm, as several red indicators flashed on my chair. A quick check told me that we’d suffered a breach on one of the lower levels. Damage response teams had been dispatched to deal with it.

“What was that?” I called.

“Enemy missile got through our screen, sir!” called the drone squadron leader.

I glanced behind me to see Reza’k gripping the armrest of her chair with white knuckles. She was pale and wild-eyed. If she was feeling fear…

I raised my voice above the frantic chatter below. “We expected a few of their shots to get through,” I called out, addressing no one in particular, “Have faith in our ship, people. Have faith in each other.”

Another loud crash reverberated through the hull. I gauged the level of stability the ship was experiencing and stood up from my seat. We were no longer going through high-gee manoeuvres, at least not for a few more minutes until we started to evade more attacks, so I walked carefully over to the rail overlooking the operations deck.

“Missile control! How close are we to firing?”

“Thirty seconds, commander!”

“Batteries! Target all available guns on Destroyer Charlie. Let’s reunite it with its sister ships.”

Hardlight rounds started pouring in the direction of the last Destroyer, but I noticed only port side was doing so. I checked our firing arcs – we’d turned to take fire on our port side, and now starboard was out of arcs.

“Starboard battery!” I called, “Individual fire, target the Xerxes weapon ports. Drones, get clear of the enemy and engage the last Destroyer!”

“Forward shields failing!” came a cry from below.

I gripped the railing tightly. “Helm! Full evasive manoeuvres! Missile control!”

“Ten seconds, commander!”

The drone squadron leader called up, fear in his voice. “Boarding pods are through the defensive screen!”

Martine yelled into her console comms. “All hands! Brace for impact!”

The ship shuddered with several distant crashes as the high-velocity pods smashed into our hull. At the speeds they were travelling, even with inertial stabilisers, anything living inside would have been crushed. Synthetics, on the other hand, would be immobilised in solid impact braces. Not all the pods survived the impact, but enough of them did that reports started to filter in of enemy mechs clamouring into compartments.

“Rego, coordinate with Alex for the repelling action,” I called, “Let me know the moment things look dire.”

“Aye, Commander!” he called, switching the command suite through various configurations while talking hurriedly on his headset.

“Missile launchers in range, sir!” called Chief Ensel.

“Fire all salvos! Helm, roll us to starboard, one twenty degrees!”

I could see damage markers begin to appear on our hull status, I figured we could turn our undamaged side to face the Destroyer, and maybe get the enemy fire to take care of some of the boarding pods stuck on our hull. Compared to the Restitution, the size of the pods meant this was a slim chance, but maybe we’d get lucky.

“Starboard battery, target Destroyer Charlie! Port side, focus fire on the Xerxes! Follow the missiles in!”

By now we were starting to get fairly close to the enemy ships. In moments, we passed through the picket ship positions, taking fire from their Class 2 weapons. Weakened though it was, our rear shields were more than able to take the brunt of the energy weapons, and the drone defence screen handled the rest.

“Missiles hit!” called the fire controller.

“Sensors! Damage report!” I called.

“Optics confirms multiple hits amidships, secondary damage obscuring extent.”

Our hardlight munitions were hammering away at the already damaged target site, adding to the destruction caused by the missile impacts.

“Sensor nineteen destroyed!” called one of the sensor operators, “Enemy drones near our hull!”

“Drones! What’s the status of our defence screen?” I called.

The drone squadron leader was frantically hopping between pilot stations, trying to get them to coordinate the defence. I could see he was having a hard time, so I didn’t push for a situation report. I had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

I started to feel overwhelmed. I had reports flashing nearly everywhere I looked – damage reports, enemy contact positions, enemy fire warnings, incoming missile strikes, swarming drones, shield warning indicators. The sheer volume of data was making it difficult to track our progress. I could feel a panic attack starting to grip its icy talons on my throat.

Hieron, who must have been watching me intently, sent me a line of text on my overlay.

Delegate, lad. Give me the hardlight batteries, give Reza’k the damage reports to prioritise. Let Rego direct the boarding defence. Your First Officer can handle directing the drone efforts. You just focus on directing the ship.

I nodded, trying to keep my breathing under control. I knew once I started hyperventilating that a full panic attack would not be far behind.

Hieron started barking orders into his console’s communicator. Reza’k flicked her display over to the damage control coordination reports and, despite being as wild-eyed as I felt, started talking with teams tasked with mitigating our damage.

I called to Martine, “You’re on point defence, support the drone screen!”

Immediately she dashed over to the frantic drone squadron leader, pointing him towards his own console. She sat down in a vacant station, trading orders with the pilots.

“Helm,” I called, taking in the larger view of the battlefield, “Keep us rotating at fifteen degrees a second. Standby for vectors.”

I noticed that we had drifted directly into the heart of the enemy formation, they’d surrounded us and spread out to attack us at all angles. We still had a decent amount of speed, so it wouldn’t be long before we would pass through the riskiest area. Our original plan had been to pass aft of the Xerxes’ location, giving the missile system an optimal angle of attack, but the remaining Destroyer had veered wide, placing it on the opposite side from the Xerxes.

“Helm,” I called, “bring us about red nine zero, north ten degrees!”

The ship started to turn away from the Xerxes, presenting our propulsion to the larger ship. It was dicey, but so far I had not witnessed as much firepower from the organo-ship as the Destroyer was bringing to bear. A scattering of hardlight cannons and the light missiles was all it had fired.

I watched as the Destroyer came about, following our movements. We began to circle one another. Although we had inflicted damage on the Destroyer, the enemy Captain had done what we had done and rotated to present an undamaged face. With the enemy drones, the limited fire from the Xerxes and the Destroyer’s Class 3 weapons, the firepower was almost evenly matched.

Destroyers, smaller and less armoured than a Cruiser, nevertheless fielded an impressed arsenal and these merc ships were certainly equipped similarly. The only advantage we had was the fact that the majority of incoming fire came from all directions, while we could focus our damage output effectively. As the helmsman had put a lateral spin on the ship, neither the Xerxes nor the Destroyer could pinpoint a weakened section of our hull.

“Keep us circling, helm! Don’t let that Destroyer get on our tail.”

“Aye, Commander!”

As we turned, the gee-forces started to push me along the railing. I sat down again, swiping most of the reports from my display with my hand and focusing on the battlefield arrangement.

As we rotated, Hieron directed each battery to fire upon the Destroyer, coordinating the strikes as they presented themselves. The opposing battery he directed to fire upon the more manoeuvrable, smaller vessels. So far, he’d yet to hit any, but the effect was noticed in that smaller incoming fire lessened. We had ceased to fire upon the Xerxes, but I knew that taking out that Destroyer was now a priority. We could focus on the Xerxes once this risk was taken care of.

Like galab, our two ships orbited, facing our broadsides at each other. The Restitution’s greater firepower started taking its toll. First one, then two of the Destroyer’s four propulsion nacelles flared out, pushing the ship out of the virtual arena. The enemy ship turned a lazy arc away from us, pulling us out of their firing arcs. The constant hammering on our hull abated immediately.

“Life pods launching!” cried out an elated sensor operator. A ragged cheer broke out from the operations deck, echoed by Reza’k.

I turned my attention to the condition of our ship, noting with concern a growing casualty list. Several sections of our ship were flashing an angry red.

“Not as bad as it looks, Commander,” she said, noticing my attention, “Nothing penetrated beyond a few compartments deep. Nothing critical.”

“Commander,” called Rego, “Alex reports heavy fighting near the Jump Drive compartment and engineering. Most of the boarders gravitated to there, but marine squad leaders report they’re pushing them back.”

“Get armed crew to reinforce them,” I said, “We have to keep them clear of engineering.”

The crew had undergone basic shipborne combat training and every last one of them was qualified in small arms weapons. They were not as thoroughly trained as the marine detachment but, in a pinch, they could defend themselves if need be.

I turned back to the main display and put some steel into my voice. “Time to finish off the Xerxes.”

No sooner had I said this, then the communications station call out an incoming signal. I noticed immediately the smaller ships pulling away from their attack and drone swarms started to break off as well.

“It’s the Xerxes, Commander!”

42.

“Put it on the main display.”

An image of a dishevelled, nervous looking Corporate appeared on the view screens, his crisp uniform damp around the neck. I could see the whites of his eyes.

“Hold your attack, Commander! We have no wish to continue this battle.”

I turned to Hieron, “Hold all fire, let’s hear them out.”

“We wish to agree to the terms of your warrant. Halt your attack and allow our ships to withdraw. In return, I will personally hand myself over to Protectorate custody…”

“Hold on,” I said, interrupting the Corporate’s speech, “The warrant was for the Captain of the Xerxes.”

He blinked. “But I am the Captain of the…”

“You take me for a fool? I’ve met the Captain, sort of. I know what he looks like. You most certainly are not him.”

“I…you have?” he stammered. The man was rudely shoved aside and a familiar face appeared before the recorder. This I knew to be the man we wanted.

“So…” he said, a sneer on his face. I could see the signs of extensive gene therapy and rejuvenation treatments on his features – a sort of angelic, almost feminine visage.

“Couldn’t help but try one last deception?” I asked.

“I am Captain Borges,” he said, distaste clear on his face, “Korveli-Xue Space Defence Division. If you refrain from destroying my ship, I will surrender myself to your custody, as per your warrant.”

I muted the comms channel and turned to Reza’k. “What powers do we have, since he retaliated against us? Can we impound the organo-ship?”

Reza’k looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Technically, although I doubt he would agree to those terms. His primary concern at the moment will be fallout from his superiors. If he puts more assets at risk just to save his own neck, they may cut off any support they may offer to his legal defence. Far easier to adhere to our original wording.”

“Call off your synthetics,” I said to Borges, “Deactivate them immediately, or I start pounding that great big hole you’ve now got in your ship.”

“Done.”

I turned to Rego, he gave me a thumbs up. “Reports of synthetics holding, Commander.”

I faced Borges. “Order those merc ships to stand down. I want them no more than three hundred kilometres from the following waypoint. I’m sending a marine shuttle to dock with your ship. You will present yourself for arrest as soon as the shuttle reports its arrival. Any attempt at subterfuge will be met with immediate retaliation and the eventual destruction of your ship. Is that understood?”

He swallowed, probably choking down his pride, “Understood, Commander.”

“If I detect even a single watt of power directed to any weapon system or movement of those mercs beyond the zone we have set them, we will recommence our attack, understood?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence…”

“Is that understood, Captain Borges?”

His face turned a deep purple and he visibly shook, and for a moment I thought I’d overdone it. “Understood, Commander.”

I flicked off the channel, ending the communication. Next, I contacted the hangar controller.

“Prep a shuttle for departure, relaying orders to a marine squad to head your way. Launch as soon as they’re ready.”

“Aye, Commander.” came the reply.

I fell back into my seat, blowing the air out of my lungs as I did.

I tasked Martine and Reza’k with coordinating the remaining damage control incidents, while Hieron and Rego directed the ‘clean up’ of deactivated synthetics. I called Alex up to the bridge.

When he arrived, he was damp with sweat, but otherwise in high spirits.

“We held, Commander,” he said, a beaming smile on his face.

“You did good,” I said, “Lieutenant.”

“Lieut…” he trailed off, “…I…thank you, sir!”

“Don’t thank me, Kekkin wanted you commissioned as soon as possible. He just wanted to see how you did without him guiding you. He’s still in charge, overall, but he wants you to take a more active role in leading the marine detachment. You’re to serve under him and learn what tactics and strategies he can teach and, hopefully, come up with some new ones using our gear.”

He nodded, clearly already thinking of the possibilities.

“In the meantime, I want you to organise the escort for reigning in this Captain Borges. I don’t trust him, so make sure the marines you send to fetch him are smart and very well armed.”

He flipped me a crisp salute and left. I turned to face Hieron and Reza’k, the former raising an eyebrow, the latter giving me an annoyed look.

“You don’t approve?” I asked them both.

“The boy’s a bit young,” said Hieron.

“He’s got combat experience,” I said, “He’s resourceful and very brave. Kekkin and I both saw that while we were on Ambrose. The troops love him, too. Especially the ones we kept from Gossamer.”

“I’m not sure you can do that,” said Reza’k, “Handing out commissions on a whim.”

“It’s not a Protectorate rank, it’s a ship rank,” I explained, “I cleared it up with Admiral Jalabir before we left – I can install whatever rank structure I choose on the ship, so long as upper echelons are Protectorate assets, such as Kekkin and I.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“The crew, besides yourself and a small handful of officers, don’t answer to the Protectorate – they answer to me. I pay them from a budget allotted to me for Protectorate operations. Just like Maxine’s retainer.”

“I’ll have to look into this…” she started, but Hieron sighed in frustration.

“Just give it a rest, girl,” he said, “You don’t need to be on every single committee, or have a finger in every aspect of running this ship. Let the lad do his thing! They put him in charge for a reason.”

She turned to him and opened her mouth to retort, but I put a stop to it. “Enough. You can look up the legalities later, Lieutenant.”

I sent them back to their stations, there was still work to be done. I returned to my command chair and brought up the status indicators that were still glaring red on my display. We had not gained our victory unscathed. The starboard batteries had taken a pounding – we’d lost nearly a quarter of our guns. There was other damage as well.

I sent a call down to engineering, where I knew Gannerson would be hard at work coordinating damage control and repair work already. It took a full minute for the Chief to get online.

“Gannerson,” I said, “I want a priority put on the starboard battery repairs, give me a sitrep as soon as you have it assessed.”

“We took a couple of direct hits to our main propulsion, Commander. I’m going to need a full team to get it sorted. I recommend we focus on that first.”

“I need to be able to defend ourselves if the Corporates think to try something, we’re not done with them yet.”

There was a slight pause on the line before he answered. “All right. It’s your ship, Commander.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, sir. Just rearranging schedules in my head.”

“I need my top people to be open with me. If you think I’m making a big mistake, I need to hear it.”

“I get it, without guns we’re just a passenger ship. I’m still thinking like a freighter engineer.”

“What’s the extent of the damage to the engines? I didn’t notice any loss of capability during the battle,” I started flicking through the warnings for that part of the ship.

“You probably wouldn’t, these old Linus Drives were built for reliability, after all. We’ve got irregularities in the ejection lines along the starboard nacelle. We probably have some structural issues from the impacts of those hits. Our armour held, but the force alone did the damage.”

“My engineering is limited to a Meridian Class Transport, Chief. Ion drives only.”

“Okay, so the Linus works by generating ball lightning in a central chamber. The helium-3 reactors power this process, the Hawking radiation is directed along a series of ejectors to provide directional thrust…”

“Wait, wait…Hawking radiation? As in what you would find near black holes?”

“What do you think we mean by the term ‘ball lightning’?”

“I don’t know – a ball of lightning?”

“It’s technically the same thing. Slightly more controlled than a naturally occurring black hole, and much, much smaller. On the scale of attometers, actually.”

“Slightly more controlled?”

He sighed. “I have this conversation every time someone wants to know about the guts of large scale starships. Next thing you’ll be asking me if it’s safe.”

“Is it?”

“Safe? Hell, no. Why do you think engineers get paid so damn much?”

“So I should really make damage to the Linus system a priority?”

“No, sir. You do what your gut tells you. It’s gotten us pretty far on less than what we’ve got right now. The worse that can happen if we let this slide is our turn rate might be uneven for a while. Leave the science up to the science guys.”

“Roger that, Chief. I have enough nightmares already.”

“I’ll have an assessment on the starboard battery in half an hour. Gannerson out.”

Next, a call came up from the operations deck. “Hangar control reports the marine shuttle is on its way, Commander.”

I flicked my display back to local space, watching as the small craft crossed the distance to the disabled organo-ship. I checked the positioning of the merc ships and was satisfied that they were cooperating. I checked the roster on the shuttle and called up the squad leader of the marines on board.

“Commander?” came the response.

“Radio me directly the moment you have Captain Borges in custody,” I said.

He acknowledged the command, and I let him go. I waited patiently, tensely, as the distance between the two ships shrank, holding my breath. When sensors reported the ships had docked, I mashed the call accept button the moment I saw it light up.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“We have a problem, sir. Captain Borges insists we let a pair of synthetics escort him. Won’t board the shuttle without them.”

“What model are they?”

“Looks custom, some KV design.”

“Can you and your men disable them in a pinch?”

“Affirmative, Commander.”

“Let them on. The moment you disengage from the Xerxes, take them out. Put the bastard in restraints once they’re dealt with.”

I could hear the smile on the Corporal’s face. “Roger, sir. Will comply.”

A few minutes later, after the shuttle began its journey back to the Restitution, the marine Corporal reported the synthetics neutralised and the good Captain secured. The man had the foresight to flush the components out of the airlock, figuring that they could hide a bomb or other hidden danger. I made a note in my overlay to watch this man’s career – a smart, cautious marine was a valuable asset.

Gannerson reported in just before the shuttle returned. Although several of our guns were ‘slag’, as he called them, he was confident the onboard repair nanites could rebuild them.

“There’s enough raw material in stores to feed the repair,” he said, “We just need to program them from the ship’s database and set the nanites to work.”

“How long before they’re operation?” I asked.

“About a week. Should have one or two of the less damaged one’s operational within the day, but a full rebuild is going to take time. I’m having the engineering manufactories working on the main components, and they’ll need EV time to assemble, but I can have a full schedule put together once the rest of the damage control is handled.”

“Thanks, Chief. Let your men know that I appreciate the work being done.”

“Will do, Gannerson out.”

Hieron cleared his throat in a not-so-subtle gesture to get my attention. “You should really let everyone else know how they did as well. It’s all fine and dandy hearing praise from your direct superiors, but the boss man is responsible for morale as well as the tactical directions. They need to hear it from you.”

I nodded, calling down to the communications station. “Give me main broadcast, please.”

“Main broadcast online, Commander.”

“This is Commander Donovan. Don’t stop what you’re doing, just listen up. We’ve been through one hell of a fight. We got bloodied, and we got beat up a little. The good news is that we won. Even better news is that we won because each and every one of you did an outstanding job. This is your victory as much as it is the Protectorate’s. We showed the Corporates that money doesn’t buy you protection from the law – that they have to abide by the rules as much as anyone.

“You did that. For this, you should be proud. I know I am. Donovan out.”

Hieron gave me a thumbs up and returned to his console.

By the time our captor arrived on the bridge, the damage control was almost concluded. There were no more venting compartments, all fires had been put out and the deactivated synthetic boarders had been ‘recycled’.

I had a big grin on my face when Borges was marched into the command deck, cuffed and pushed ahead of four burly marines. I checked my sidearm and waved the marines away.

“Are you done gloating?” said the Corporate, disdain clear on his features.

“Not quite,” I quipped, “I’m still deciding if I’m going to pace in front of you or lecture you from this chair.”

“Typical. Your pedestrian attempts at humour belie your intelligence. This uncivilised nature is part of what’s wrong with this Network.”

“And your arrogance has once again put you out of sorts.”

“We can trade insults all day, you and me, but I would not wish to waste my time with someone who is beneath me. Mark my words, when I am free, I will finish what I started when I…” he closed his mouth, suddenly aware that he was about to admit his guilt in my attempted murder.

“Go on. I’m getting used to these little rants of yours. It must make you feel impotent, this seething rage you have for me. This unquenched hatred of me.”

“Your days are numbered, Donovan. You’ve not beat me yet.”

“Oh? What have you got in store for me? I am all ears.”

He refused to answer, simply glaring at me.

“Sounds like he’s got a plan,” said Hieron, standing up and walking over to him. Borges turned his ire upon the old man, giving him the same treatment he gave me. “Maybe we should interrogate him?”

“Torture me, if that’s what you filth do. You’ll get no plans from me.”

“So there are plans?” said Hieron, grinning mischievously.

Borges stared at him with open hatred, saying nothing.

“How will Koveli-Xue attempt to gain the Jump Drive?” probed Hieron.

Borges sneered. “Now who’s giving away information? You just confirmed the location of the technology.”

Hieron shrugged. “That’s knowledge that anyone who was watching this ship closely would know by now anyway. Tell me, how will you be getting out of this bind that you find yourself in?”

It was now that I noticed that Reza’k was watching the Captain closely, a look of intense concentration on her face.

Borges, unaware we had a telepath, simply glared at my grandfather. Hieron continued with his questions.

“You do think you’re getting out of this, don’t you?” he said, sparing a subtle glance at Reza’k. The Garz’a goiki gave Hieron the slightest nod.

Seeing where he was going, I stood and joined Hieron in front of the Corporate. “Smug, for someone in Protective custody. I wonder if you believe your Corporate benefactors would risk coming to your rescue? Is the prize of this technology so great that you think they would risk breaking the Treaties to come after it?”

Borges almost spat as he spoke. “The Treaties would be irrelevant, once we get our hands on this Drive. You think that…”

I held up my hand, as Reza’k’s face turned to me sharply. “It’s a trap!” she said in alarm.

Borges’ face turned to a look of shock, then understanding dawned. His expression told me that what Reza’k had said was true.

I almost made it to my command chair before the alarms began to sound.

43.

“Report!” I called, unsure exactly who was meant to be feeding me information right then.

“Contacts!” called one of the sensor operators, “Four…correction, five high-velocity contacts bearing green one ten, north five degrees.”

“What class of ship?”

There was a pause before answering. “Not ships, Commander,” said Martine, “Missiles. I think.”

“Scramble the drones!” I called.

“Hold on, lad,” said Hieron, staring into his console, “Take a look at them. The drones won’t do a damn thing.”

I flicked my view to the sensor readouts, my eyes taking in what my brain was rejecting. “How big are they?”

Borges chuckled derisively behind me. “Big enough to be the end of you, fool.”

“Helm! Turn us about, full thrust. Martine, navigate us a path around Eovan, let’s get some velocity. Now!”

Why would the Corporates decide to destroy us, I thought, wasn’t their goal to capture this Jump Drive?

Something didn’t add up. I turned to Borges, sending a text to Reza’k. Read him. “Your masters wouldn’t destroy us, just to spite me, would they?”

“Of course they would. I would,” he snarled.

No, came the reply from Reza’k.

“This prize is too great a catch for them to throw away. This was part of their plan, wasn’t it?”

“Only a paranoid, delusional megalomaniac would think a Galactic Corporation would bend such resources just to stop one man. You overplay your importance.”

He lies.

“So they hoped I would attack you, a target too juicy for me to ignore. Lure me out here, spring their trap.”

“Tell yourself whatever fantasies you want. It changes nothing. Surrender this ship and I will deter the missiles. You have my word.”

More lies, he doesn’t believe he has the power to stop those weapons.

“Bullshit. We’ll take our chances. Martine, all data to the command suite.”

I got up from my seat, brushing past the gloating Corporate as I did. By the time I reached the table, the holographics were displaying a slew of data that Rego was hastily rearranging for me.

“What are they?” I asked him, as the ship began to vibrate with the heavy thrust we were starting to emit.

“I don’t know, sir. They’re definitely not regular warheads – I’m reading all sorts of exotic energy from them. I also can’t figure out how they’re guided.”

I watched as the missiles started to follow the orbit we had started as we tried to perform another slingshot of Eovan.

“There’s nothing on radio bandwidths, infrared, microwave, we’ve broken line-of-sight…hold on…” he started to manipulate the controls before him, his hands stabbing through various holographic indicators and buttons.

“What have you got?” I prompted.

“There’s a tenuous subspace connection between the missiles and us. I’ve no idea how they communicating.”

“Can you pick up what they’re saying?”

“Negative, just looks like data. Probably how they’re following us, they must have AI’s and are being directed by someone, or something.”

A coldness crept up my spine as I recalled our suspicions of a Corporate agent on board.

“How long before they intercept us?”

“Eight minutes, forty-nine seconds. The real question is how long before we enter their area of effect. They might not even need to get near us.”

An icy talon started to claw into my guts, a cold sweat broke out on my brow.

“Get the Professor up here,” I said, my throat suddenly dry, “We need his science brain.”

The minutes ticked by. We tried tightening our orbit, but the stresses on the hull caused the shaking of the ship to increase. We pulled away before Gannerson gave me a nasty call.

Hieron and Martine joined me at the table by the time Gaston arrived. He stormed up to us, about to launch into a rant when he noticed the contacts gaining on us and the serious looks on our faces.

“What…what are those?” he stammered out.

“If Borges here is to be believed, this is the end game play by Koveli-Xue.”

“But…why would they destroy us?” he looked incredulously at me and the Corporate Captain. Borges looked away.

“I don’t think they would,” I said, “But I can’t work out what they are.”

“They’re too big for boarding pods,” offered Rego, “And I can’t work out their guidance. They don’t have hull piercers on their fuselage, anyway.”

“Are they emitting any energy at all?” said Gaston, trying to work out the table in front of him.

Rego dragged a block of data in front of the Professor, who started pawing his way through it at an advanced pace.

“Those are farnian pressures, I’m sure of it,” he said after a while, “Too bad we don’t have any Votus crew members.”

“Are we within range of the Dreaming of Atmosphere?” I asked Martine.

She shook her head. “Not since half way through that battle.”

“Farnian…why does that term sound familiar?” I asked the Professor.

“Oh, there are several Corporations that use the principles. Calazyne, Yand-Gur, Malfor & Castein…”

“Yand-Gur…type G?” I said, snapping my fingers. “They disrupt spacetime?”

Gaston blinked. “Yes. Sort of. That’s an over simplification but…”

“The Blade of Xerxes had those as part of its railgun arsenal,” I said, turning to face Borges, who was doing his best to not look interested.

“I’d be interested to see how farnian pressures interfere with the Jump Drive’s escape bubble…” mused Gaston.

“So we know that Koveli-Xue has technology that affects spacetime, and they have experimented with Jump technology,” I said, “Would it be a stretch to assume they have a way to stop us from Jumping away?” I said this last while looking directly at Borges.

Reza’k nodded to me. “He believes you are correct.”

“Professor, get on station. We’re going to Jump as soon as we’re able.”

“This close to Barris Doon…” he started, “Might not be able to navigate so easily through Phase Space…unless…”

“Out with it!” I said, as Gaston ran down the ladderwell to the operations deck and threw himself into his console chair.

“We should be able to point ourselves orthogonally to the Vanhoeven blackhole,” he said, punching commands into his computer, “Calculating shift parameters…this may take some time.”

“We don’t have time!” I called, watching the countdown on the command suite fall.

Borges, unable to contain his moment of triumph over me any longer, barked out a harsh laugh. “Jump! Jump all you want! The farnian pressures will pop your bubble and strike you wherever you go!”

I turned on him, “They won’t be able to track us once we enter Phase Space. Whoever is guiding those missiles won’t be able to see them anymore…”

“I’m guiding them, you fool!”

I pulled my sidearm from its holster, levelling the sights square between his eyes. “Call them off.”

“I can’t! They’re homing in on a beacon implanted in the base of my skull. You’d have to kill me to get it out, and you can’t kill me while I’m in your custody.” This last he said while grinning from ear to ear. The guy literally rocked back on his heels with glee.

I thought about doing it. I really did. My finger twitched on the trigger ever so slightly, but Reza’k intervened. “He’s right, Commander,” she said, her hand resting on my arm, “He is under our protection, he legally surrendered himself to the Protectorate. To kill him now would be an act of murder, that’s not how the Protectorate acts. We need to surrender…”

I lowered the gun, despair clutching at my heart.

“Good thing I’m not Protectorate then,” said Hieron. Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed Borges by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back towards the starboard bulkhead.

“No!” screamed Reza’k, lunging after him. She was too late.

Hieron slapped an emergency panel, the bulkhead sliding open on one of the bridge’s several life pods. He tossed Borges inside, who started screaming obscenities at Hieron. With Reza’k clawing futilely at Hieron’s arms, my grandfather hit the release panel. A red light strobed and a warning klaxon sounded briefly, before the hiss of the ejector drowned out the noise. In a split second, he was gone.

“Detonation detected!” called the sensor operators.

“Shifting!” called the Professor, almost at the same time.

The ship felt like it suddenly flipped end over end, I was tossed through the air and landed heavily against a guard rail. I clutched on for dear life, the forces not yet finished with our ship. I tried to catch my breath and my fingers slipped on the rail, I threaded my cybernetic arm through and held on. Somewhere along the way, we lost power. In the dark, we rolled around and crashed into bulkheads, consoles and each other. I heard a cry of pain near my left, but could not see who had made the noise.

When it was over, I could hear a distant alarm over various moans and groans. There was a ringing in my ears and a warm liquid covered the left side of my face. I was still dangling from the rail. I had no idea which way was down.

With a whir, the emergency lighting turned on. The scene before me was bedlam – I was dangling from the railing, my feet hanging above the starboard side of the bridge. People were untangling themselves from the debris that had fallen to the side. Starboard was our new down as if we were within a great gravity well…

“The black hole!” I called, climbing onto the rail and reaching for the foot of my command chair. I pulled myself up to the armrest and keyed a button. “Gannerson! Engineering!”

There was no answer for almost a minute, I kept calling regardless.

“I’m here,” came the burly Chief eventually, “What in the galaxy just happened?”

“We got hit by Koveli-Xue, some sort of Jump disruptor. We made it, but not without consequences.”

“That’s an understatement. I got casualties down here. I’m guessing there are more elsewhere…”

“It’ll have to wait – we need power restored, we need to find out how close we are to the black hole.”

“The wha…the gravity?”

“Get power back online, make that your top priority, Chief.”

“Yes, sir!”

I rested against my chair, wiping my hand over my face and noticing the blood that came off. I looked around, trying to gauge the level of carnage.

“Is anyone hurt?” I called. It was a stupid question, I could see people were hurt. “Help each other, if you can. We need to get back online, we’re not out of danger yet. Hieron!” I called, looking amongst the fallen crew, trying to make out my grandfather. “Hieron! Where are you?”

“He’s here,” came a weak call from below me. I couldn’t make out where it came from, so I clamoured down the vertical command deck to stand on the starboard bulkhead. The slope of the hull made a short hill before I could see Reza’k and Martine kneeling over my grandfather. There were tears in their eyes as I rushed to them. He didn’t look good.

“What happened?” I asked, stupidly.

“He…he shielded me. He held me to him…” said Reza’k, sobbing openly.

He was barely conscious, his blood-flecked lips muttering weakly. I took his hand into mine. “Hieron…” I said.

“B…boy…” a ragged cough interrupted him, “Do what…needs…”

Several crew had recovered first aid equipment and were moving between the wounded. Martine called one of them over to us. The first-aider, one of the Orlii sensor operators, scanned Hieron with a handheld device. The look she gave Martine spoke volumes.

“Internal bleeding…ruptured organs…his spine…” she broke off in a sudden sob, her eyes fading a deep shade of brown.

Martine waved her away.

Reza’k kept pawing at him, stroking his face and arm, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry…” she kept saying.

“Boy…” said Hieron, softly, motioning me closer.

I leant in, putting my ear near his face.

“Do what needs…a Donovan…”

The last of his breath came out in a bubble of blood, and then he was gone.

44.

I sat in the hangar, my head in my hands, as they brought out the dead. Despite my earlier alarm at how close we were to the black hole, once power had been restored and sensors were operational Gaston assured me we were in no immediate danger. I put it down to my first time in the vicinity of the singularity.

A despair washed over me as the first reports had rolled in. I had known we had suffered casualties during the earlier battle, but the damage from the Corporate retaliation had inflicted far worse. The incident reinforced in me the need for more training, above all. During combat, the crew below decks were supposed to secure themselves within one of the many retractable seats located throughout the ship, devices known as a crash harness or acceleration couch. These protect the crew during high-g manoeuvres, they stop them from bouncing around the passageways and breaking their necks on bulkheads. Having believed the initial combat was over, many had continued to perform their after-action duties and were not within the crash harnesses. Of the four hundred and eighty-three crew and marines that had followed me from Collumus, forty-two had perished within the last few hours. Over three times that were injured in some way.

“And for what?” I mused, gazing down at the corpse of my grandfather.

A sudden gasp escaped the lips of the body, causing me to start. I stood up swiftly, stumbling backwards.

“Gah…” murmured Hieron’s body.

“Corpsman!” I called when I realised it was more than simply escaping gases.

A trio of medical people ran over to me, instruments scanning Hieron as he stirred, moaning in pain. I stood back, dumbstruck, while they worked. A flailing hand waved the one nearest me back and I peered in to see Hieron awake and fighting to be rid of them.

“Get off me, you louts!” he said. I started grinning like a madman.

“We thought you were dead, old man!” I cried.

“Hrmph. Probably was,” he said when they pulled back enough for him to breathe, “How long was I out?”

“Two, maybe three hours. You were dead. What happened?”

“Three hours? Damn lying brochures. I think I need to change clinics.”

“You mind telling me what in the galaxy is going on?” I said, helping him sit. He still winced in pain, but his grip on my arm was strong.

“Lazarus augments. Never heard of them?”

“No.”

“The ultimate in life insurance, they said. Body goes into trauma, brain function is kept safe in a cranial implant casing. Redundant organs kick in, supposedly within the hour.”

“Your spine was broken…”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he said as if talking about a broken shoe.

I shook my head in wonder. “You’re a tough man to kill, you know that?”

“I sure do. Made lots of enemies very bitter.”

“So you’re going to be okay?”

“I guess so. I can’t feel my feet right now, but the nerve endings should reconnect with bed rest. Why am I in the hangar?” he said, looking around him for the first time. His gaze rested upon the open hangar doors, the vista before it showing the grand view of Vanhoeven’s blackhole.

“Seemed a better place as any to count our fallen.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You were going to toss me into the blackhole?”

I shrugged. “It’s what you wanted, after all.”

“I really dodged a bullet there, didn’t I? Maybe next time I die you just leave me on a slab somewhere for a day or two, hmm?”

“Hey, no one but you knows how many augs you have. Next, you’ll be telling me you can fly.”

“Well, I do have my eye on this new cyber-aug for my legs…”

I laughed out loud.

“How did we do?” he said, all mirth gone from his eyes as he looked about the hangar deck.

I sighed. “Not good. Lost nearly ten percent of my crew. We lost power briefly, but we’re back online now. Most of the damage was structural, but the auto-repair systems are mending that. We have other problems, though.”

“The Vanhoeven?”

I nodded. “We’re too close.”

“Can’t we just shift?”

I shook my head. “After that last jump, we realised how lucky we were. Apparently, our velocity is a big factor in the accuracy of our shift. Gaston admitted that we ran the very real risk of shifting inside the event horizon when we jumped here. He doesn’t like the chances of us shifting again while we’re travelling this fast.”

He lay back, groaning in pain. I realised the drain on his body this healing process must be taking. Despite his energetic state upon waking, he was lethargic and bleary-eyed within moments.

“Come on, let’s get you into a proper bed. Leave the hangar for the truly dead,” I waved a stretcher over and watched as the corpsmen lifted him up and carried him away.

My spirits had buoyed, but the sombre fact that I had lost a large percentage of my crew still weighed heavily upon me. I had work to do.

I returned to the bridge and let the others know of my grandfather’s condition. The news was met with happiness, especially from Reza’k. She had taken his apparent death hard.

I urged the others to continue their work, resolute and determined.

Gaston, Martine, and Gannerson were discussing our predicament.

“I can’t provide that amount of thrust,” Gannerson said, “The force on our hull could rupture an ejection line, especially those damaged in our previous engagement.”

“Maybe we don’t have to get the thrust from our engines,” Martine said, “We can dip in closer to the event horizon, pick up velocity and angle away?”

“I’ve run the numbers,” said the Professor, “We get any closer and we start to experience relativistic effects.”

“We aren’t already?” I asked.

“We are, but so far it’s fairly minor. The change will become logarithmically significant soon.”

“How soon?”

“At our current distance, approximately twenty hours. Only thing is, we’re slowly moving closer as we orbit since the Chief here won’t give me any more thrust.”

“It’s not that I won’t,” explained Gannerson, “It’s that I can’t.”

“How long will we need to reinforce the ship’s structure enough that we can?” I asked.

“At least a couple of days. Probably closer to three. Eighty hours should be enough.”

“By then,” said Gaston, frustration clear in his voice, “Every hour we spend here will be a month felt by the rest of the Network.”

“Did you forget to return some books from the library?” he said.

“You understand, you lummox, that by then the thrust we can output will be barely enough to maintain our position? We’d need over a week to break free of orbit by then.”

Gannerson opened his mouth to retort, but I held my hand up to stall him. “Okay. Solutions only. Attack the argument, not the arguer.”

“Can’t we just shift and try our luck?” asked Martine, “I know you said it was risky, but we can always reposition once we shift back to normal space. That has to be a better alternative than just orbiting Vanhoeven’s.”

I looked to Gaston, who clearly did not like it. “We only managed to jump here because the singularity is easy to find. If we shift at this velocity, the orthogonal movement could take us thousands of light years away, further than any recognisable stars. We’d be lost with no way home.”

“What about Horizon Station?” I asked, “Any luck getting a transmission to reach them?”

Martine shook her head. “They may be able to see us, but being this close to the event horizon is likely garbling any message we can get out. It will certainly be distorting anything they try to send us, even if we could pick it up over all the radiation this monster is generating.”

“Won’t they see we’re in trouble and try to help us, anyway?” I said.

The others looked at each other awkwardly.

“What am I missing?” I asked.

“Most of the scientists are Votus,” explained Gaston, “They’ll just shrug and say ‘such is life’.”

“From what I hear about them, they’ll probably take the opportunity to study our eventual demise,” said Gannerson.

Horizon Station was a small research facility on the outskirts of the accretion disk that surrounds the black hole. The chance to study such phenomenon was a high point in the negotiations between early explorers of the Votus-Eridani Network, hundreds of years ago, and the Votus Collective. It was a pivotal condition that brought the Votus into the fold of the Galactic Protectorate. It was the sole reason the Jump Gate to Vanhoeven was constructed.

For the Jump Gate to be possible under such tidal forces, the Votus had constructed a wondrous device called the Light Bridge. This artefact interacts with the gravity produced by the black hole, providing a counter to the force produced. The Light Bridge is tethered to Horizon Station, through it, and to the Jump Gate, keeping them all stationary relative to the singularity. It also allowed the Votus scientists access to the event horizon and, some speculate, even beyond.

Of course, this knowledge was not shared with us ‘younger races’.

It did provide a measure of hope, however.

“What do you know of the Light Bridge?” I asked Gaston.

He rubbed his chin in thought. After a few moments, he started tracing patterns in the air before him, performing calculations on his overlay that only he could see, or understand.

“We may be able to use it,” he said after a while, “I’ll need to read up on the publically documented research these misers let the rest of us see. Scraps from the table, to be honest. But given some time, I may be able to supplement their papers from the readings I can take, given our proximity to Vanhoevan’s Star. I’ll need access to the ship’s AIs, whatever you can spare.”

“Take whatever you need,” I said, “So long as we can keep our distance and keep breathing.”

“I will need some time. It is a shame we did not keep Tac with the Restitution, his assistance would greatly improve our survivability right now.”

“Let me know the moment you have something,” I said, although I doubted that he heard me, lost deep in his work.

“Where do you want to prioritise repairs?” asked Gannerson.

“Get us space worthy, then make sure we can Jump. Worry about the rest as you see fit.”

He nodded and left the bridge. Martine indicated the state of the bridge, where the crew were still tidying up. “We should have everything up and running in a few hours. Have you had someone look at your head wound, yet?”

“I’m fine, just a cut. Bleeding made it look worse than it is.”

I was still covered in blood, having only wiped my face clean with an offered bandage after receiving minor first aid. I figured there were worse people than me that needed the attention more.

“You should let Glenris take your uniform and get it cleaned. Go change into something fresh.”

“You’re worried about how I look? Now?”

“Appearances are everything,” said Reza’k, speaking out for the first time, “Especially now. The crew have taken a beating. They need to see you unaffected by the carnage. It will help morale.”

I looked around me. Mostly, people were just tidying up, securing loose items that had been tossed about the compartment when we had lost gravity.

“And get some rest,” chided Martine, “You look like shit.”

I smiled, “You don’t look so good yourself, First Officer.”

Martine was about to argue, but Reza’k beat her to it. “He’s right. You both need to change and rest. I’ll get the crew stood down and working in shifts. Once that’s done, I’ll check in with Hieron.”

“All right,” said Martine, “But I’m only getting half a shift of sleep, then I’ll come relieve you.”

The two women nodded to each other.

“And…me?” I said, smiling.

They gave me a funny look. “What?” said Martine, “Did you need a blanket or something?”

“No…I mean, when do you want me back on duty?”

“You’re the Commander, sir,” said Reza’k, “You’re always on duty.”

I opened my mouth, but Martine interrupted me. “Get some sleep, young man.”

“Hey,” I said as I started to leave, “I’m not that much younger than you.”

45.

By now, I should have been used to my strange dreams. But they always seemed to change around pivotal times in my life. When I’d first gotten the NP proto-chip the dreams had been peaceful, becoming nightmares in the wake of my first foray into the Blade of Xerxes. During my ordeal in the Gossamer System, the Eye of Ar’od Dar had haunted me.

I’d been absent these dreams for months, since returning to Network space. I guess I just thought that I was done with them.

The dream started like any other – calm, warm seas of data. No matter which direction I swam, there always seemed to be a current pulling me away. I swam and I swam, but the current become stronger and stronger until it was pulling me under.

I awoke with a gasp as if I had been holding my breath while I slept. The room’s assistant AI queried my alarmed state.

“Nothing, I’m alright. Just a bad dream.”

Should I notify your registered medical practitioner of your sleeping troubles?

“No, thank you. Any messages for me?”

You have 11 notifications.

“Any urgent?” I said, climbing out of the bunk and heading for the shower cubicle.

One – although I believe the priority flag was set erroneously. Lieutenant Haldenstein has filed a priority report with the subject line: Victualing Status.

“Haldenstein? Er…”

Head of Supply Department.

“Oh. Right. Anything from Martine or Gannerson? Or Gaston?”

Chief Engineer Gannerson has sent three reports – Damage Control Sitrep, Manufactory Status, Structural Repair Sitrep.

“Load those into my overlay, please.”

While I showered, I went over the reports. The manufactories had been set to construct the discrete components needed to repair the hardlight batteries, while regular nanites would work to form the chassis and structural repairs. The damage control activities, I was glad to learn, had completed all pressing repairs. The rest of the reports were details and time schedules for when the remaining repairs could finish. The final report described an issue with raw materials – we would need to acquire base metals or ores soon in order to finish the rebuilding. Wouldn’t be a problem once we got back to Collumus.

“Assistant, send a message to Professor Gaston, please. Ask him for an update.”

While I dried off, I found that a fresh uniform had been laid out for me on my bunk. It took me a moment to work out, but then I remembered the steward Glenris.

“Did you alert my steward that I was awake?”

As instructed, Commander.

“By who?”

First Officer Lenser.

I sighed. No point arguing, I figured. At first, I was annoyed that my privacy had been ignored, but then I remembered I was on a military vessel now. I had duties, and so did Glenris and Martine.

“Can you also ask my steward in to see…”

The hatch to my compartment opened, the slender Orlii stepping in with a tray of steaming food.

“Commander,” he said, bobbing his head as he approached. He placed the tray on my small conference table then started for the hatch once more.

“Hold on, Glenris,” I said, “A word before you go.”

He stopped and turned to face me. “Is there a problem, Commander?”

“No…well…Maybe. I’m not used to having someone wait on me. I’m also a sufferer of post-traumatic stress…I might get jumpy.”

“Commander?” he said, canting his head to one side.

“No sneaking around delivering things for me while my back is turned. Just knock and ask. I don’t mind, I just hate surprises.”

“Apologies, Commander. I was just trying to be unobtrusive.”

“It’s all right. It just takes some getting used to…” my voice trailed off when I noticed the contents of the food tray, “Bacon and eggs?”

“I took the liberty of asking Lieutenant Ward about your preferences. She mentioned this was your favourite?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Cream with one…”

“One sugar. I’ll just be a moment, Commander.” He stepped over to my coffee machine, the very same model that Maxine had in her cabin, and started to brew the aromatic beverage.

I sat down and dug into my meal with gusto. I was ravenous. A chime at the hatch was answered by Glenris, before placing a steaming mug next to my tray.

“Professor Gaston, sir?”

“Please.”

The Professor strode in, juggling several tablets that he dumped on the table.

“Progress?” I said, between mouthfuls.

“Of a sorts. Do you mind if I steal a strip of bacon? I’ve not eaten all day…”

“Not if you value your limbs. Glenris?”

“I’ll have another plate brought up, right away.”

When the Orlii had left, Gaston gave me an appreciative look. “Rank has it’s privileges…”

“The Light Bridge?”

“Right. So… I think we might be able to use it. You understand how the bridge manipulates matter?”

“No, actually. I’m…”

“Right. I forgot. An idiot. Nevermind. The bridge allows the Votus to touch the skin of the event horizon, without being affected by time dilation…”

“How is that even possible?” I said, dropping a piece of egg from the corner of my mouth. Gaston watched it splattered sauce all over the table, licking his lips as he did so.

“To be honest. I have no idea. Well, that’s not strictly true, I have some very likely suspicions, actually. I just don’t know how they are able to create the required conditions for the change to occur.”

“How does it help us?”

“I think I can make the Jump Drive’s bubble interact with the bridge to cancel out our inertia long enough for us to shift safely.”

“But won’t we still be travelling too fast.”

He grimaced. “I suspect that the velocity we travel at isn’t important, but the drag we exhibit on spacetime is. Remove that effect and we should also arrest any orthogonal motion as well. Since technically, we also reduce our motion in spacetime as we cross into the Light Bridge’s effect. I think.”

“You think?”

He gave me one of his ‘looks’.

“Right. What’s all this then?” I indicated the plethora of tablets strewn about the table.

“Calculations, fifth-dimensional diagrammatics, quantum mechanics, a video game…”

Glenris re-entered, carrying another tray which he placed before the Professor. He dug in without a thought.

“Anything I need to know about?” I said, scooping up the last of my eggs on some toast while Gaston broke his first yoke, “Thank you, Glenris. That will be all.”

“I’ll just be tidying up, sir. Don’t mind me.”

The small Orlii started to straighten the blankets on my bunk and pick up discarded clothing. The Professor belched loudly.

“Excuse me, Commander. I’ve not eaten in some time.”

“I understand. Anything else I need to know?”

“Yes. Some things don’t add up.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Phase Space…it looks different.”

“Different how?”

“World lines are not where they’re supposed to be, some are missing, and others are out of position. At first, I put it down to our warped perception, being so close to Vanhoeven. Then I posited that the AI Tac trained to navigate and depict Phase Space was malfunctioning. I had to sift through the AI’s memory looking for logic loops or counter-extrapolations. Then I revisited my earlier calculations. The more I ran the equations, though, the more I started to see discrepancies that I couldn’t account for.”

“What does that mean?”

For the first time, I saw him answer without the usual air of confidence. “I…I’m not sure. Occam’s razor would suggest that my calculations were flawed. I’ve run proofs, though. More than I would admit to my peers in the scientific community. Everything checks out.”

“So if your maths is right, what does that mean for us?”

“That we’re not, in fact, at Vanhoeven’s Star. Nor are we in the Votus-Eridani Network.”

I leant back in my chair, staring at him.

“We’re almost in the Network,” he said, “But some things are different, somehow.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“I won’t know more until we get back into Phase Space and take a look through the scopes.”

“How are we mapping Phase Space without being in Phase Space?”

“We’re not. Tac put together an algorithm to predictively show world line placement based on sensor readouts each time we shift. Things may move in three-dimensional space, but to Phase Space they’ve always been there. Not much changes. At least that’s what I thought, anyway.”

“Can we navigate?”

“I’m certain we can. I can still account for the presence of the expected stellar masses, such as the Eridani star, the others as well, but we’re missing some of the smaller masses.”

“Like what?”

“Some planets.”

“Planets?”

He nodded gravely but said no more.

I pushed my empty plate away, taking a sip of the coffee while I gathered my thoughts. “Have you told anyone else?”

“No one. Got a write up I was going to send you, but then I remembered you were stupid and thought I’d better tell you in person.”

I gave him a reproachful stare. “What do you think happened?”

He spread his hands out and shrugged. “We’re breaking ground here as it is, there’s no scientific paper to refer to. We simply need more data.”

“All right. One problem at a time. How long until we’re able to use the Light Bridge?”

“A couple of hours.”

“Do we need to do anything to take advantage of it?”

“Slowing down would be ideal, but I’d rather give Gannerson as much time as he needs to get us fully operational.”

“That’s uncharacteristically accommodating of you.”

He flashed me a toothy grin. “Otherwise we have everything we need. I’ve already programmed the Jump Drive to shift the moment we pass through the Light Bridge’s beam. I’ll just need to liaise with Gannerson on when to shunt power from the helium-3 reactors. He’ll need to shut down the manufactories.”

“I’ll make sure it happens. Get a copy of that report to all the section heads, including First Officer Lenser. How long have we been here, relative to the rest of the Network?”

“Several weeks, at least. We still have a few hours before we expect to lose significant time, so at least there’s that.

“Maxine’s going to be pissed. So is Zoe…”

He pushed his tray away, his meal vanquished, and made to stand. “At least that isn’t my problem. Thank you for the feed, Commander. Glenris.”

He started to gather up the various tablets, dropping half as he picked up others. Glenris, eager to help out, started to pick up those he had dropped.

“Thank you, Glenris. Commander, I’ll see you on the bridge?”

“You will. Thanks for taking the time.”

The Professor left, Glenris in tow, leaving me with my thoughts.

“What does all this mean?” I said to the empty compartment.

Please clarify the query, Commander, said the room’s AI.

“Sorry, please ignore. Not as empty as I thought, it seems.”

46.

A semblance of order had been restored to the bridge, as well as those passages I traversed on my way there. All the stations were manned, save for a few conspicuously empty seats. A harsh reminder of those we had lost recently. Martine was already on the operations deck, speaking with a pair of sensor operators. I passed on my command chair and instead made my way down below to join her.

“First Officer,” I nodded to her.

“Sir,” she replied, “Liza here was working with the Professor non-stop since we arrived,” she indicated one of the Orlii operators, the one who had responded as Hieron’s first aider.

“I’m okay, sir. I can do another shift, if need be,” she explained, although I could clearly see the exhaustion clear on her face.

I took a glance around the various operators, realising I knew very little about them. I made a mental note to change that.

“Liza isn’t a very Orlii name, Able Serviceman. Where are you from?” I asked.

She smiled at me. “Gossamer, sir.”

Of course, I mentally slapped my own forehead.

“My parents didn’t make it, I was raised by a freighter crew that got captured. Learnt how to operate my station doing runs to the asteroid fields for the Ghantri labour crews. They were mostly human, I never really learned my full Orlii name so they just called me Liza.”

“Fair enough. I need my bridge crew at the best, Liza. If the First Officer says you can take time off, I suggest that you take it. Sleep is as powerful a weapon as any. Never forget that.”

“Go get some sleep,” ordered Martine, smiling, “I’ll take your station until we stand down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She got up and left, while Martine took her spot.

“Gaston fill you in?” I said.

“Just now. Sent me a damn text. Still don’t know what to make of it.”

“Neither do I. He says we’re not where we’re supposed to be, but how many other blackholes do you know of? With a Light Bridge, no less?”

“Only one, Commander!” came the voice of Gaston from the Command Deck above, “The Jump Drive is configured and the compartment locked down. Young Alexander has the place firmly in hand. I’m ready to go through the plan with you, now.”

“I’ll be right up, Professor,” I said, rolling my eyes at Martine.

As I made my way up to the Command Suite, Reza’k entered the bridge and joined us. Martine had told me she was spending time with my grandfather, making sure he was comfortable.

“How is he?” I said while Gaston and Rego manipulated the holo-table.

“Tired. The nanites are taking their toll on him.”

“Healing like that normally would. I’ve broken my share of bones, in the past. This has to be far worse than bone mending.”

She nodded. “He eats like a garz’ak.”

“Runs in the family. You’re sure taking a shine to him since the accident.”

She was thoughtful for a moment before answering. “He saved my life. I was in the middle of attacking him, I don’t know what came over me – I was just so angry. Next thing I know we were hit by the blast…he just wrapped his arms around me and we…”

“Go on.”

“I was still angry with him while we flew about the bridge. I was fighting him even then.”

“Was it this…reciprocating telepathy you mentioned?”

“Possibly. Captain Borges was very hostile. I was actively reading him at the time and his emotion certainly was very powerful.”

“The day didn’t turn out how he thought it would, that’s for sure.”

She was about to say something but was interrupted by Rego.

“We’re ready, Commander,” he said.

Gaston was adjusting the display to focus on the Light Bridge, while a small icon made its way towards it.

“This is us,” he explained, “Once we hit the beam, our Jump bubble will let us shift…and…”

The image faded to show the chaotic Phase Space depiction that Tac had assembled for us. We had a pair of AI Cores working with the program, in place of Tac, and the image was less than stable.

“Is this loss of clarity because of the AI’s?” I asked.

Rego nodded. “They just can’t compete with Tac’s processing capacity.”

“Could this be the cause of the discrepancies with the image?” I asked Gaston.

He shook his head. “I doubt it. The problem isn’t lack of detail, it’s a lack of known constants. At least some of them anyway. Have a look.”

He changed the image to a clearer picture, indicating this was Tac’s rendition before he left the Restitution. After a moment, he switched the view back. We could clearly see several changes, as well as many subtle shifts in some of the world lines.

“I see,” I said, rubbing my chin.

“Indeed,” Gaston said.

“What’s the plan?”

“We should jump back to Eridani. It’s the easiest landmark we can target at this speed, and shouldn’t be a stretch for the AI’s. We’ll almost be retracing our steps.”

“I was going to suggest that,” I said, “Or Barris Doon. The Corporates would have left by now. No Jump Drive, no Restitution and no Borges for them to hang around for.”

“That’s a little too precise for our speed,” warned Gaston, “I wouldn’t recommend anything quite so accurate. Nearest large gravity well is about as good as I can manage with so many variables.”

“Fair enough. You’re the science guy. Eridani star it is.”

“It’s also close to discrepancies that we can study.”

“All right. When do we shift?”

Rego brought up a countdown – he was getting fond of using these – that showed we had just over an hour to go.

“I’ll close up the ship in half an hour,” I said, “Good work, gentlemen.”

As the hour progressed, I could see the crew were getting anxious. A lot had happened, in the last day or so, that was not considered normal space travel. It seemed every time we had an encounter of some sort, things never went as expected. I felt the urge to say something.

“Open main broadcast,” I called below.

“Comms open, Commander.”

“All hands, this is Commander Donovan. We’ve been through a lot, these last few hours, more than I had a right to ask of you. For that I’m sorry, but I just wanted you all to know that you’ve done an outstanding job restoring the ship to operational status and taking care of our own. As far as shakedown cruises go, this has been one hell of a trip. We always knew this would be dangerous, but with any luck, that’s all behind us now. I’ll see you all on the other side.

“Commander Donovan out.”

Reza’k nodded her approval and began to tighten her crash harness about her body. I returned to my command chair and did the same. As the final moments ticked away, I gripped the armrest in anticipation.

“Convergence in three…two…one…shifting.”

The disorienting lurch into Phase Space once more caused people to cry out in alarm, and I was unable to withhold a loud belch as my stomach filled with gas. The sensation passed quickly, followed by an eerie calm.

“Status report!” I called down to the Operations Deck.

“Sensor’s calibrating, sir,” called Martine, “Command suite updating.”

I unbuckled my harness and made my way over, to see Rego with a disgusted look on his face. “You okay?”

“A bit of food came up. I’m good, now.”

“How do we look?”

“The AI’s are doing an okay job of mapping Phase Space, it’s what they predicted with Tac’s algorithm and the sensor readings we took before. We should drop out near Eridani in fifteen minutes.”

I returned to my chair, watching the sensor readings, looking for something, anything, that might explain why we were seeing, or not seeing what we expected to.

After a while, Hieron made his way onto the bridge, sitting down in his chair with a wince.

“Thought you might need me,” he said, shrugging.

“Only if you’re up to it, old man,” I said. Seeing him up and about brought a smile to my face.

“I’ll manage. Always found sleep to be a waste of time, anyway.”

“Aren’t you retired?”

“So?”

“Isn’t wasting time the whole purpose of retirement?”

“Do I strike you as the kind of man who could sit still for any length of time? I’m a star traveller, lad. Always have been, always will be. Just like you and your dad.”

“We do seem to be rather restless, don’t we?” I said.

Reza’k barked out a short laugh. “Not even death seems to keep you lot down.”

“Oh, Death and I have been sparring partners for a long time, my fine feathered friend,” said Hieron, “Don’t think that last knock put me off living, I’m not done yet.”

“I can see that, human.”

“Returning to normal space in fifteen seconds, sir!” called Martine.

I brought up a static filled holographic of local space, ready to respond to any dangers that may be waiting for us when we shifted.

“Shifting!”

As before, leaving Phase Space was by far a gentler affair than entering. With a faint shudder, the ship returned to three-dimensional space, and the sensors started populating with data.

When local space had revealed itself, it took several minutes for us to believe what we were seeing.

“Eridani Prime, Acheras Orbital, Restus Station, Collumus Station…” murmured Reza’k, “They’re all gone…”

“How can a whole planet be gone?” said Hieron, turning in his chair to look at her.

She was right, however. It wasn’t simply gone, it had clearly been destroyed. Where before the Jewel of the Votus-Eridani Network had orbited, a slowly expanding asteroid field ringed the Eridani star instead. A ragged sphere of cooling planetary core spun on an unstable axis, flinging matter into the surrounding space.

Acheras Orbital, the giant torus habitat famous for its lush parklands and wealthy inhabitants, was a great debris field less than half an AU from our location. Cataphract, the closest planet to the star, was once a thriving community sheltering below the Votus constructed Star Shield facility that allowed an atmosphere to form on the terraformed world. Scans revealed it nothing more than a dry, baked desert devoid of life.

The galactic headquarters of the DonCrest Corporation, Restus Station, was nowhere to be seen, but long range scans could detect masses of metallic debris within a broad vicinity of its previous location.

Tyrillian – once a hotbed of political strife and ideology, was enshrouded in a poisonous atmosphere of toxic gases and violent storms. Collumus – traceable to several large sections of destroyed space station adrift throughout the star system. Joining the vista of devastation was the debris and remnants of the thousands of smaller habitats and station that once permeated this part of the Network.

“No signs of radio traffic,” reported Martine, “No active satellites or communications signals detected.”

“A hundred and fifty billion people…” I lamented, “What happened here?”

“The Jump Gates!” called one of the sensor operators, “I can’t find them!”

“Commander,” called Gaston behind me, “You’d better come see this.”

Almost unable to tear my eyes from the vista before me, I slowly turned and made my way over to the Command Suite. Gaston was looking nervous, while Rego was pale faced and speechless, leaning back in his chair with a look of despair on his features.

“What is it?” I said quietly.

“I may have made a miscalculation. We haven’t been gone several weeks. We’ve been gone nearly forty years.”

To be continued…

Preview

Please enjoy this sneak preview of Book 4 – The Prophet Engineer

It’s funny how things turn out. You put all your efforts into bettering your life, trying to scratch out some small measure of happiness, you find that special someone and hang onto it. You get it in your head that no matter what, regardless of what happens, so long as you and that special someone are together you can face anything. You make plans. You build things together.

And just like that, it’s all taken away.

If it weren’t for the nearness of a chair by the holo-table, I may have fallen to the floor. Instead, I collapsed into the seat heavily. “But…how…”

“I’m at a loss,” said Gaston apologetically, “I can’t account for the increased time dilation. It just doesn’t make sense…but never the less,” he gulped, then gestured at the hologram on the table, “The position of the stars, the location of what few planetary bodies remain untouched by this destruction…the angle of the galactic arm…thirty-nine years, eight months, fourteen days. The ship’s computers have already updated. It’s how I noticed it at first, but I’ve confirmed their…”

“Enough,” I said, holding up a hand, “I’ve heard enough.”

Gaston closed his mouth and nodded solemnly. A look of intense guilt and remorse pervaded his face and body language. He turned slowly and walked over to a vacant bridge station.

A firm hand closed upon my shoulder and squeezed. I looked up at my grandfather, a grim look on his face. “They need you now more than ever. Lead us out of this.”

“What can I possibly do to make this right?” I said with a bitter laugh.

“Take us out of here.”

“Where?”

“What does your gut tell you?”

I opened my mouth to retort, then thought better of it. Instead, I focused inward, trying to wrest my mind away from the cold numbness that threatened to engulf me.

“Argessi,” I said at last, “The Kersios Ring. Maxine would always say that no matter what, we can always return there for whatever we needed – repairs, resources, recuperation or relaxation.”

“She was always a smart woman. Use what she taught you. You’re going to need it now. We all are.”

I nodded, silently thanking him. I stood and walked back to my command chair. I took a deep breath, forcing my own despair away.

“Helm!” I called, putting steel into my voice, “Bring us to full stop. Professor?”

He looked up dejectedly from his station.

“When we’ve shed some of this velocity, navigate us to the Argessi System. Can you get us close to the Kersios Ring asteroid belt?”

He nodded. “I should be able to, once we’re stationary.”

“Martine, keep us on full alert. Launch all drone wings and keep them in a defensive screen. Whatever did this might still be in the system and I don’t want to be caught with our mouths open.”

“Launching drones,” called the First Officer.

“How long until we reach zero velocity?” I asked.

“Forty-two minutes,” came the reply from the helmsman.

“What’s at the Kersios Ring?” asked Reza’k, her voice still shaky.

“Asteroids,” I said.

“Asteroids?”

“Asteroids with ores in them,” explained Hieron, “We need raw materials for our manufactories, and our repairs. It’s also a great place to hide if you don’t want to be found.”

I stared at the holographics for some time, my mind in turmoil. I noticed that I was tapping the armrest loudly, and that both Hieron and Reza’k were staring at me.

“Logistics?” said Hieron.

I nodded. “We’re only stocked for a brief mission. How long, exactly, I’m not sure. Looks like that victualling report was a priority, after all.”

He canted his head to the side in askance. I shook my head and brought up the report that Haldenstein had flagged by mistake. It held the nutrient and protein supplies for the autochefs, along with perishables and other consumables. I wished that Ormund were here, he always had a better head for this kind of thing than I did.

What would Maxine do, I asked myself, would she come up with a plan all her own? No, she would ask our input, use the minds that are with her.

“Comms,” I called, “Put a message out to all department heads – meeting in the Pit, fifteen minutes.”

The crew knew that something was up, long before the fifteen minute mark, and everyone was assembled early in the situation room. I had Rego send all the sensor imagery to the Pit projectors, and once everyone was seated we turned them on. I waited a few minutes while everyone took it in.

“It’s as bad as it looks, ladies and gentlemen. I won’t lie to you – I’ve no idea how widespread this is, but for now we have to consider the possibility that galactic society has collapsed.”

“But…how…who?” stammered the hangar control officer, a woman by the name of Lieutenant Anders

“Who do you think?” I swept my arm out, indicating the read outs and sensor images, “This is the future that we were supposed to prevent. This is the aftermath of the Ghantri invasion.”

I had no proof, but knew, in my heart, that I was right. I could see by the determined looks and the naked hatred in their eyes that they knew it to be true.

“What are we going to do, sir?” asked a wild eyed man. It was our supply officer - Lt Haldenstein

Haldenstein was a squat man, of Harawikan decent. I pegged his age to be slightly older than me, biologically, although his hair was thinning. His complexion marked him as one of the survivors of the Gossamer System – most of the starlight from Gossamer was infrared, meaning fair tans and pale skin.

“We need to introduce rationing on the autochefs. Until we find a viable biological replenishment for food, we’ll be limiting their use.”

“Understood, Commander,” he nodded, eager for direction, “Want me to lock them out? Regulate meal times?”

“Until everyone’s interface overlay proto-chips have activated, we’ll have to. No way to control it otherwise.”

“Nanites?”

“Aren’t they engineering’s responsibility?” I asked.

“Their usage is, but they’re a consumable, ergo they’re a supply item.”

“We may have to ration those too. Chief?” I asked, looking at Gannerson

“Should be doable. We never had nanites in Gossamer, most of my boys are used to repairing things the old fashioned way. When can we expect more raw materials?”

“Once we’ve shed the speed we picked up at Vanhoeven’s we can shift again. We’ll head to Argessi System and start mining the belt out there. It’s also the section of the Network that I know the best, spent a lot of my star faring years plying the Corus Cluster to Kersios run.”

Gannerson grunted and held up a hand. I nodded for him to go ahead. “There’s not a whole lot out that way, facility-wise, that could service a ship this big.”

“Which means it stood a better chance of avoiding the same fate as what happened here. It would take a long time to search out the Kersios Ring for ships that didn’t want to be found. It was a pirate haven, the bastards even had fully equipped space stations hidden out there. If anyone survived this, this is our best bet at finding them. Alex?”

“Sir?”

“Your marines will be in charge of discipline…”

“Discipline? I don’t follow, sir.”

I could see that many others were also confused by the order.

“There’s a very good chance that we’re going to be locked in here for an extended period, with limited resources and one hell of a hole in our bag of hope. People get desperate, they do desperate things. Frontiersmen call it ‘the fever’, Nomads call it ‘getting wet’.”

“You think people might crack under the pressure?” he asked.

“I know they will. It’s in our nature. It’s something all Captains have to know how to deal with. We lost our Chief Engineer on our way into the Gossamer System, and were chased for a stretch through Eridani by the Blade of Xerxes, all the while dodging rail gun rounds.

“Our surviving engineer cracked and tried to sabotage the Dreaming, figuring the Corporates would go easy on us if we surrendered.”

I paused for a moment to let the implications settle in.

“Make no mistake, these are extreme circumstances. There’s no telling what it will take to make someone snap. I want marines, armed with non-lethal weapons only, ready to respond to any incidents of the fever.”

The ship’s Acting Medical Officer, a near-human with pale purple skin, bright yellow eyes and a faint spotted skin pattern held his hand up to speak.

“Sub-Lieutenant….I’m sorry,” I said, “I haven’t learnt all of your names.”

“Miishan, sir. Am I authorised to sedate problematic crew? I don’t have the psychological training of Zoe…apologies, Lieutenant Ward.”

“Not yet. We can try isolation for now, but may need to review this on a case-by-case basis. Usually a good talking to or a few days rest is all that’s needed to undo a case of the fever. Or, as my old Chief Engineer used to say – ‘some contact counselling’.”

“Morale is going to be difficult to maintain,” said Lt Anders.

I nodded to her. “You’re right. The key to pulling through this is communication. Encourage the people under you to talk to each other, to talk to you. My office door is always open, if anyone needs to go over anything or to just talk. I may not have the people skills of my fiancé, but I know a thing or two about trauma.”

A lump suddenly caught in my throat. For the first time I realised that I may never see Zoe again, and even if I somehow managed to find her…forty years is a long time.

I took a moment to compose myself. It took several moments. Just before I was about to speak again, the Drone Squadron Leader stood up.

“Sub-Lieutenant Rakken, kitrak,” he said, thumping his chest, “Will warriors be hunting the kak grubs?”

I blew the air out of my lungs and took a deep breath. “At the moment our priority is to survive, and gather Intel. We need to know what happened and if there are survivors. Then we need to make contact. Remember that the Jump Gates have been down for a long time. The systems have been cut off from each other, or at least this part of the Network.”

The Garz’a nodded, sitting back down.

“We at least know that the Votus observation platform of Horizon Station is undamaged,” said Gunnery Chief Ensel.

“Very true,” I said, pointing at him and nodding, “I’m hesitant to jump back to Vanhoeven, given the miscalculation by the Professor. We’re still unsure if the added time dilation is due to the vicinity to the blackhole or a side effect of the Corporate fernian pressure bombs. Besides – everyone could have been dead on Horizon Station, we had no way of knowing their status. We received no transmissions from them the entire time we were in system. The Light Bridge was operation, however, so that’s promising.”

“A last resort then?” said Ensel.

I nodded, then pointed to Haldenstein once more, his arm raised.

“Sir, why aren’t we exploring Eridani further?” he said, “I mean, we’ve been here less than an hour. Isn’t it possible we may be overlooking survivors here? There’s a lot of interference around Barris Doon, there’s plenty of hiding places around its moons…”

“The devastation here is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” I explained, “Whatever destroyed Eridani Prime is likely to be fielding firepower that we’ll have no chance in repelling. Any survivors we encounter out here are more likely to be whoever caused this destruction in the first place. I’m not ready to face them, not yet. My gut tells me we need to regroup, get more intel.”

My answer seemed to satisfy him, and I looked around the Pit for more questions. All I saw was forlorn looks and ashen faces.

“We care for the living, first. We have people we’re responsible for that depend on us. Let’s make sure they don’t find us wanting.”

As the section heads started to file out of the situation room, the Professor sent me a text.

Commander, it said, we’re slow enough to start the jump.

I’ll be on the bridge in five minutes, Gaston.

How did they take it?

About as you’d expect, I texted, they’ve faced dire circumstance such as this before and pulled through. I have every reason to suspect they’ll pull through this as well.

They’re a remarkable bunch. Tough. I’ve underestimated them. You as well.

Don’t go patting ourselves on the back yet. We’ve a lot of work to do before we’re done.

I understand, Commander.

For news and more, follow Jim C. Wilson at

www.amazon.com/Jim-C.-Wilson/e/B015YOKEZW