The Short End: Broken Galaxy Book Four

by Phil Huddleston

  Jim looked at one of his favorite books lying on the floor, now with a torn cover. In her anger, Rita had closed her eyes and stood stiff-legged, arms down hard, frustration overwhelming her. Jim walked to her and attempted to put his arm around her, but she turned away at his touch.

  “Just…no. Not now,” she muttered.

  Jim dropped his arms and stood, waiting. In a few seconds, she heaved a long sigh, turned back toward him, and opened her eyes, staring.

  Now Jim put an arm around her and pulled her to him. This time she allowed it, moving into his embrace.

  Jim rocked her back and forth, holding her. There was little else he could do. Keeping Rita tight against him, Jim spoke the only thoughts he could say to comfort her, get her back on track.

  “Rita. We’ll work the problem, just like we always do. Hold on to that.”

  Rita began to unfold from him, pulling away. Jim wanted to hold on to her, hold her for the rest of the day, keep her safe from all harm and doubt.

  But he knew it was fruitless. She had already moved beyond her moment of anger. So he relaxed, letting her go, hating it but knowing he had no choice. Backing up to arm’s length, she gazed into the eyes of her husband. She leaned forward and kissed him, patted his cheek, and then leaned back again.

  For one last moment, he could still see the woman in her.

  “Thank you, love,” she said. “You’re right. I’ll find a way. Let’s go to the briefing.”

  She hesitated, then spoke again. “Sorry about your book.”

  And with that, the woman he loved changed. A hard look came over her face and she nodded brusquely, turned, and was gone out the door. The Admiral of the Black had returned.

  “You’re welcome, love,” Jim whispered as the door closed behind her. He turned, reached for the book on the floor, and glanced at the cover.

  “Just One Damn Thing After Another,” he read.

  Sadly, he placed it back on the nightstand and followed her out to the briefing room.

  ***

  “You cannot!” cried Bekerose. “You cannot!”

  Rita stared at her Flag Captain grimly.

  “I can, and I am.”

  Jim also echoed Bekerose. “Rita, think this through! Giving yourself up to Zukra plays right into their hands! There has to be another way!”

  Adamantly, Rita shook her head.

  “There’s no other way. We’ve looked at every option, every possibility. None of them work. Every scenario except this one gives an unacceptable outcome. So I’ll give myself in trade for Imogen. End of discussion.”

  An agonized chorus of negatives went ‘round the table, but Rita sat solidly, her mind made up. She looked down the table, past Jim Carter at the far end, and through him to Gabriel, standing at parade rest just inside the hatch.

  “Make the arrangements, Gabriel. Just be sure we get Imogen, Mark, and Gillian back before I go over to them. No mistakes.”

  Gabriel bowed slightly, an agony on his face that could not be expressed in words. Silently, he turned and exited the briefing room.

  Rita stood. With a snap, every other person at the table stood also, coming to a more formal attention than they usually did when a meeting adjourned. Rita gave them a slow smile. Then she turned and headed for her Flag Cabin.

  Rushing to follow her, Jim entered the cabin directly behind her. As soon as the door had closed, he started talking again.

  “Rita. Rita. Please. Don’t do this. Let me take a commando team in to break her out. Please!”

  Rita turned to look at him, somehow managing to find a smile. “And how many would die in the attempt, Jim? And what are the chances of success? We ran the scenario, remember? A 20% chance of success; 80% odds that you and Imogen and Mark and Gillian would all die. It’s not worth it, Jim.”

  Shuddering, Jim sat on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes in anguish. “Babe. I can’t let you go like this. I just can’t!”

  Rita sat beside him, reaching a hand out to touch his face. “You have to, Jim. You need to wait here until Imogen is back. Then you have to keep her safe. No matter what happens, promise me you’ll do that. Promise me!”

  Jim shook his head, muttering. “No, no, no…”

  Rita leaned over to him, kissed a tear off his cheek. “Jim. For our daughter. For Imogen.”

  Ashkelon System - Planet Ridendo

  Ashkelon Fleet Headquarters

  “Got her, by the Stars! Got her ass!” gloated Zukra. He turned, clapped Orma on the back in a delight of happiness. “You did it, Orma! You found a way!”

  “Aye, sir,” said Orma. Somehow, he didn’t feel as thrilled by the outcome as he had expected.

  Somehow, it felt dirty. Wrong.

  Ignoring the feeling, he continued briefing Zukra.

  “She’s agreed to an exchange half-way between Deriko and Ridendo. We send one unarmed shuttle, and they send one unarmed shuttle. Any sign of warships within a quarter-AU of the rendezvous and the trade is canceled immediately.”

  Zukra nodded gleefully. “Yes, good. That works.”

  “The shuttles will dock, and we’ll place the baby and the other two Humans half-way down the docking tube. We’ll keep a commando team at our end of the docking tube with weapons pointed at the baby, and they will keep a team at their end with weapons pointed at us to ensure we stick to our end of the deal.

  “Admiral Page will come down the tube and examine the baby to ensure she is healthy. When she is satisfied, the Admiral will wait there under our guns while her security team takes the baby and the other two Humans back to their shuttle.”

  “Fine. No problem.”

  “Should we try to double-cross them and keep the baby as well?” Orma asked. He knew Zukra would be thinking of that, so he might as well ask it first.

  Zukra rubbed his chin. “No, something might go wrong, and we could lose the bitch Admiral. Let them have the pup.”

  Orma nodded. “Very good, sir. The exchange is scheduled for tomorrow at 1600 Mosalia time. I’ll get things underway.”

  “Oh, and Orma. When you get her, bring that Human bitch directly to my palace. I want to entertain myself for a while.”

  “Aye, sir. It will be done.”

  Ashkelon System - Planet Deriko

  Battlecruiser Merkkessa

  It was late, past midnight. Jim and Rita lay together in bed. Both were silent, staring at the ceiling.

  They had talked, one last time, about the things that were important to them.

  How to raise Imogen.

  What to tell her about Rita when she was older.

  Rita broke the silence again. “Jim.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m giving the Fleet to Bonnie. I discussed it with Bekerose and the rest of the staff. They understand my logic. Bonnie’s mind is the closest to mine in terms of the way we think, the tactics and strategy we use. So I think she’s the best choice. I’ve cut all the orders, and everything is ready to go.”

  “OK.”

  “Jim.”

  “I’m here.”

  “In a way, this is the way it should end. I’m getting really tired of the killing. I know what people say - they call me the Ice Bitch. But I’m not, you know. I can’t do this any longer anyway. I can’t keep on killing, them and us. Tooth and claw. I’ve had all I can take.”

  “I’m so sorry, love. I never knew this was going on inside you.

  “I couldn’t tell you. How could I? I’m the clone, perfect for the job of killing. How could I quit?”

  “Rita. We’ve had this discussion before. You’re as normal as I am. You were created from Human DNA. You grew as normally as any Human - just faster. You’re just like me, and Bonnie, and all of us. You ARE us.”

  Rita was silent for a long time. When she spoke again, Jim could hardly hear her.

  “Jim. Do you believe there is a life after this one? Will we see each other again? In some future life, or in some bright place?”

  There was more silence as Jim tho
ught about it.

  “No way to know. But I think whatever faith you can pull together, you must live it as best you can. If you’re gonna be a Buddhist, then you should be a good one. If you’re gonna be a Catholic, then you should be a good one. And for the rest of it - you gotta live your life respecting the choices others make, as long as they do it without hurting others.”

  “But will we see each other again in some future place?”

  After a long period of thought, Jim spoke again.

  “I think we are gears and parts in a vast machine, Rita. Subroutines in some great computer. To see if we are worthy.

  “If we do well - if we fulfill our function well - then maybe we’ll be used again for some great purpose that we cannot begin to fathom. That’s the best I can do, Rita.”

  “Did we do well? Will we be reused? Or discarded as failures because we were warriors? Because we killed?” asked Rita.

  Jim couldn’t respond. It was too hard for him to think about.

  They lay in silence, harsh reality pressing in on them. This would be their last night together. No more lovemaking. No more hugs, no more kisses. No more winks across the table. No more hands touching as they passed. The end of their lives together.

  “Jim. One more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want you on the shuttle tomorrow. I want to say goodbye to you here, in our cabin. I want you to stay here and wait for Gabriel to bring Imogen back to you.”

  “Why? Why can’t I go on the shuttle with you?”

  “Because I can’t bear it, Jim. It’s going to be hard enough for me as it is. If you’re there…I don’t know if I can stand the pain. Please help me on this. Stay here. Wait for Imogen. Wait for Bonnie. Take this fleet forward. Fight them, Jim. Don’t let them kill us all.”

  After a long silence, Rita heard Jim breathe out a word; so softly, she almost missed it.

  “OK.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ashkelon System

  Shuttle M14

  Rita Page, Admiral of the Black, opened the outer airlock door and looked forward into the docking tube that stretched between the two shuttles.

  In the center of the tube, halfway between the two shuttles, Mark and Gillian Rodgers sat on the floor of the docking tube, their hands bound behind them. Between them was a baby, bundled up but with her face exposed. She was clearly recognizable by Rita from this distance.

  Imogen. The child of my body.

  Rita gave a smile of reassurance to Mark and Gillian and stepped forward into the docking tube. In five slow steps, she reached them and knelt to the floor. She scooped Imogen into her arms, holding her close, kissing her. The baby looked at her strangely - it had been more than six months now since Rita had held her child, and the baby didn’t know her anymore.

  “She’s fine,” Gillian said. “They didn’t harm her.”

  Rita nodded, thankful for Gillian’s reassurance. But she checked Imogen from head to toe, removing the blankets and touching her arms and legs, ensuring that she was healthy. Imogen giggled at the touches and smiled at her.

  That’s better.

  Finally satisfied, Rita put the baby back down on the floor and looked at the Ashkelon officer standing silently at the other end of the tube. He stood beside three commandos in full battle dress, all with rifles pointed squarely at Imogen. But he carried no weapon and was wearing a normal dress uniform. He didn’t seem to be concerned about things going awry. There was a slight discoloration of his hair, a streak of red showing under his cap.

  Orma. I let that bastard go, and this is how he repays me.

  Slowly she rose to her feet and stared bitterly at Orma.

  “Captain,” she said to him in Nidarian.

  “Admiral,” he responded.

  “Per our agreement, my security team will now take the baby and the other two back to our shuttle. I will stand here until they are inside our airlock. Then I will enter your shuttle.”

  “That is correct, Admiral. However, if you don’t mind, would you take one step to the left to give us a clear field of fire in case something goes wrong?”

  Silently, Rita took a step to the side. Lifting her hand to Gabriel, standing behind her with the security team, she waved him forward.

  Never taking her eyes off Orma, she heard the security team approach. There was a rustle and some bumps as they took the baby and helped Mark and Gillian to their feet, but still she looked forward, eyes boring into Orma, hating him with every cell of her body. Then some more rustling and bumps, and a groan from Gabriel, close behind her. Then he said one word.

  “Milady…”

  “Go, Gabriel. Get them out of here,” she said, not moving her gaze from Orma and the three rifles with him. “I’m counting on you now, Gabriel. Keep them safe.”

  The sound of footsteps departing down the tube came to her ears, then a slight creak as the airlock door closed behind her. Still she didn’t look away, sending every ounce of hatred she could muster at the Ashkelon officer standing in front of her.

  Finally Orma nodded to her. “They are away, Admiral.”

  Rita turned and looked behind her. The tube was empty. The airlock door was closed.

  Turning back to Orma, she marched forward. He moved aside to give her room to pass. The three commandos also moved aside, lowering their rifles, as she walked between them.

  With another few steps, she was on the enemy shuttle. She paused, waiting for Orma. He appeared beside her and gestured toward the front row of seats. She moved forward, found a seat, sat down. Orma sat beside her, his seven-foot frame towering over her. He buckled in, leaned back. Rita looked down, realized the safety harness was far too large for her, and decided to ignore it.

  She felt the shuttle start to move, as it turned toward Ridendo and a future of torture and death - days or weeks of unending pain, and a final ignominious death in the arena as Zukra chopped off her head in front of a screaming crowd.

  But she wouldn’t be there for that after all. Rita had too many secrets to allow them to fall into the hands of Zukra.

  Just before she had entered the airlock to make the transfer, Dr. Stephanie Warner had stood before her, needle in hand.

  “Last chance,” Stephanie whispered.

  Rita shook her head, then smiled at Stephanie: “Looks like I got the short end of the stick, Doc. Get it done.”

  And Stephanie had given her the injection. It would take effect shortly; about the time they reached the surface of Ridendo.

  First, she would fall unconscious. By evening, she’d be in a deep coma.

  With any luck, she’d be dead by tomorrow morning.

  Ashkelon System - Planet Deriko

  Battlecruiser Merkkessa

  Bonnie looked at the new insignia on her collar in wonder.

  Admiral.

  She almost wanted to rip them off. When she thought about how she had got them…

  Rita.

  It hurt, deep inside. Pain at a level she didn’t realize she could feel.

  We were connected more than I ever realized. She was more than a clone of my consciousness. She was more than a lover and a friend.

  She was my other self.

  Straightening her uniform, she lifted her head and turned to the hatch of Rita’s Flag Cabin.

  …my Flag Cabin now…

  Stepping forward, she went through the hatch to the briefing room. Around the conference table stood Rita’s staff.

  …my staff now…

  Moving to the head of the table, she paused. Staring down the length of the table, she saw Jim Carter at the far end, facing her. His face was a study in pain.

  Between them was Captain Bekerose, on her right. On her left was her Flag Aide, Captain Dallitta. Down the length of the table was the rest of…

  …my staff now…

  There was dead silence as she took her seat and waved the rest of them down. She laid her tablet down on the conference table and looked at Norali.

  “An
y word?”

  Norali shook her head. “No, mum…sorry, I mean, milady. The shuttle landed in Mosalia, at Zukra’s palace. That’s the last info we have.”

  Bonnie looked down the table at Stephanie Warner. Stephanie gave an almost imperceptible nod. The unspoken message passed between them.

  Rita will be in a coma by now. If not already dead.

  Bonnie bowed her head, struggling to find the right words.

  “I want everyone to know this is as hard for me as it is for you. We are all grieving. But…”

  She lifted her head, moving her gaze around the group.

  “We all know what Rita would say. She would tell us to move forward. Keep doing the things necessary to survive. Find a way to win this war. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  Straightening her back, Bonnie looked at Bekerose.

  “So let’s go around the table and report status, please.”

  Enroute to Stalingrad

  Packet Boat Donkey

  With a whine that seemed a bit louder than usual to Rachel, the packet boat surfaced on the outskirts of the Stalingrad system, about 50 AU from the central star.

  Rachel and Paco stared at the small holo in the cockpit, straining their eyes for any threat in the vicinity. They saw nothing obvious near them.

  But in the distance was an unimaginable sight. The light of the distant K0 star was interrupted by a swarm of objects. Several of them were long strips that completely encircled the star at roughly 0.75 AU, or about 112 million kilometers. Some of them were squares, at a slightly longer distance. A few of them were circles.

  “What the fuck are those?” Paco blurted out.

  “That,” spoke Rachel, “is a Dyson swarm.”

  Paco looked knives at her. “Is that supposed to help?”

  “A Dyson swarm,” Rachel continued. “Structures assembled to capture radiation from the star and use it for energy.”

  Paco looked closer at the holo.

  “Where’s their planet?”

  “They disassembled it. To make the Dyson swarm structures.”

  Paco’s voice registered his astonishment. “They disassembled their whole damn planet?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “An entire planet? They took apart an entire planet?”