by Ken Wolfson
"You're trespassing on a military ship," he said.
"Not military as of zero hours, when Tollyon Civil Authority formally purchased her," she said. So this was Evel Venko's revenge for his little stunt, to plunge a knife into him with the power of overwhelming political connections.
"Did House Venko put you up to this?" Adrian said. He had to delay, and hold on to Alyssa. How long? Until Amelie and himself could get lawyers involved and he could get in Mathias Venko's face. That meant turning her away here.
"No, Huxton. The anonymous reports of your offenses, as well as the girl's mother's preexisting concerns, put me up to this." Of course Venko had put her up; that was the only reason she'd suddenly have any evidence at all.
"So these concerns magically materialized on your desk last night? Or did someone from House Venko place them there?" Adrian said. "My daughter loves me, and I would never harm her. You're being a political pawn."
Amelie returned, and stood behind him, hand on her rapier hilt. She handed him his gladius.
"Commander, learn some better excuses. Those who abuse the weak and defenseless always shirk responsibility, hiding behind your power games," she said.
"Got some ID?" Amelie said.
"Here's my ID. And know that no matter your protests, the outcome is foregone. I've broken bigger names than yourself and House Nessella."
She held up her comp. Adrian read a lengthy resume of forty years in Social Services. There were plenty of news articles about Germaine's work building community centers, rescuing child slaves, and taking down abusive nobles to protect their children.
Well, shit—she was the real deal. And maybe she had some good intentions. That's why Venko had pointed her at him, his unstoppable attack dog.
But Adrian couldn't let her take Alyssa, not after everything they'd been through.
"Now, bring me Alyssa. Last warning. By article 8B of the civil code, when a social worker makes a domestic abuse visit they always take the child for up to 96 hours. This overrides all blood and property laws."
"I'm going to escort you off this ship. You can come back when you've got a warrant to be on an armed warship."
One the prefects drew their rapiers.
"Adrian, think sense! You are threatening prefects. I'm going to count to five," Germaine said.
"Hey, wait!" Alyssa cried, and stepped alongside him. Germaine reached for her. "Miss, I don't know who told you Dad's violent, but they're completely wrong. He's a wonderful father and I love him very much. Please leave us alone."
Sweet girl, she had even said please.
"I can't do that," Germaine said, patting her comp. "By law, if I visit the child's home, I must claim them while I investigate. If Mr. Huxton is innocent, he can claim you at that time."
"Damn right I'll see her again. I haven't come this far for some Venko spawn to tear her away," Adrian said. He pushed Alyssa behind him. The prefects advanced, but Germaine held fast.
“We’re taking her,” she said.
“If you come for Aly, the cost will be too high.” He drew his Gladius.
"Dad, stop!" Alyssa cried, and stepped between them. "I thought you were done fighting. I'll go with them, but I won't let Venko or anyone keep me away. Promise."
The situation spiraled out of Adrian's fingertips and shattered on the floor.
"Aly," he began.
"Please dad, no more fighting," she said.
Adrian couldn't say no to those blue eyes, rimmed with tears.
"I'll get you back."
Germaine took Alyssa by the shoulder, and led her away.
Adrian slammed the door. He slumped against the portal, panting heavily, and squeezed his eyes shut. The universe turned around his head, warped by forces of human power far greater than he was capable of moving. What was he supposed to do?
Ten seconds—he needed ten seconds to panic. A flurry of nightmare scenarios raced through his mind.
Ten. Eyes open. Amelie was staring at him with concern.
"We're getting her back," he said. "Not in twenty-four hours while Venko has time to ferry her mother up to claim her, but now. I need a loophole to abuse."
Amelie did her hair up in a bun.
"I've got something. Listen, remember the emergency declaration of fleet value?" She opened her comp.
"Yeah."
"I'll write a form out for you declaring Aly a valued asset for the fleet. You get Molitor to sign it, and take it down. Germaine must respect it for the arbitrary twelve-hour minimum, which should be enough time for your attorney to put a defense together," she said. Adrian pulled on his boots.
"It’s absurd. I trust it completely," he said. "What do we do?"
"You run down and stop them before they get on a ship. I'll send you the form. Just make sure Molitor signs it when I send it his way." She got to typing. Adrian grabbed his gladius off the wall and considered it.
“Fuck it, she comes home one way or another.”
#
Chapter Eight: Conflux
Adrian pulled Germaine's destination airlock from a contact in the civil authority. He called Molitor on the ride over, on a monorail packed with crew.
"Adrian, I was about to call you. We need you at this meeting." Voices chattered eagerly in the background.
"They stole Alyssa," Adrian said.
"What?"
"Venko sent a social worker and his deputies onto my ship, and took my daughter because of some made-up claim of physical abuse of a minor. She's being sent back to her mother. I'm getting her back."
"Shit, Adrian...are you sure it was Lord Venko? Our contacts haven’t reported anything." Since Adrian was retiring, he'd given Molitor his small but effective network of contacts and work friends in fleet command and Venko House.
"The social worker name-dropped him. This is how he punishes me. Listen, Amelie's sending you a form that declares Alyssa a fleet asset so I can legally reclaim her. It needs two command officers to sign. Can you?"
"Of course I can. As soon as you get her, go straight to Molyneux, please," Molitor said. The desperation in his voice threw Adrian off.
"What's going on?" The monorail stopped at his station; he squeezed between the uniforms and off the platform. "Dispatch said you were going to fight the Wendago; is Emoche Hulle involved?" The voices around fell silent.
"I can't tell you on an unencrypted radio. Trust me," Molitor said.
"Okay, I'll be there," Adrian said. He hung up, and put his head down into the crowd.
Germaine had found a fairly popular civilian airlock. The last of the uniforms from Tollyon had departed, and civilians were pouring back in to reach their overdue flights. Lots of shoving, at least one lost kid crying in a private security guard's arms. The worst conditions possible in which to find someone. Adrian hopped up on a luggage rack and stared over their heads.
There, going through customs! He hopped down and ran, shoving people aside.
"Dad!" Alyssa called out. The prefects went for their swords.
"I didn't want to arrest you, Adrian, but you force my hand," Germaine said.
"Your theft of my daughter is now illegal. How will that work out for you?" Adrian held up the form, projected on his comp screen. Germaine read, and her jaw slackened a little. Adrian winked at Alyssa.
"Very nice. I'll see you planetside."
She grabbed Alyssa and walked to the airlock. The prefects formed a wall between them. The airlock opened with a hiss and the crowd surged forwards.
In the airlock's windows, something flared, too bright to be normal running lights. Adrian squinted and saw a starburst of light amongst the distant docking arms. Glowing debris scattered about it in a giant shotgun blast, triggering secondary detonations on the anchorage and civilian traffic.
He felt an extra vibration underfoot, not enough for a civilian to notice, but enough to alarm him. Then, closer, he saw a second starburst. A fleet tender ceased to exist, flaming debris shredding passenger liners and punching holes in the nea
rby habitation module. This one caught the gasps of a few civilians.
Then the shockwave rocked the lobby, and everyone screamed. Adrian saw a drive trail spiral past. No need to look for its engine, he recognized the evasive flight pattern of an atlatl torpedo. The deputies' jaws slackened as they followed Adrian's gaze.
His computer screamed a high-pitched trill. He opened it up.
"Let's go," Germaine said, and pushed Alyssa into the airlock.
Just as the first burst of plasma faded out, a second flared into existence. Glowing bits of wreckage raced away from it, striking ships and station. A third and fourth blast ignited. The deck rocked hard enough to throw the entire stack of haulers over. Metal clashed, and bones crunched beneath. Adrian kept his feet; everyone else, including Alyssa, collapsed.
"Belay that, we're staying on the station," a deputy said. The solid, nearly indestructible ground beneath their feet was safer than the thin-skinned, fat passenger liner waiting beyond. Adrian saw a flicker of movement in space, racing between the ships.
"Everybody brace for impact!" he bellowed. He saw the nuclear blast through his eyelids, leaving spots on his vision when he opened his eyes. The next docking arm over shattered, throwing twisting bodies into space and shredding everything in its flight space with titanium shrapnel.
"Get out of there!" He leapt past the deputies and yanked both women back by their jackets. The deck rocked; Adrian saw plasma dance around the airlock windows. Then, the airlock door slid down with a crunch.
"Dad!" Alyssa shrieked.
"Are you okay?" Adrian cried. She nodded, then buried her face in his shoulder. He looked out the airlock windows. Four deputies and a host of people were trapped on the other side, fists pounding on the window. They were already dead.
An invisible hand picked them up and hurled them down the corridor. They flushed out a gap in the ceiling. Stars winked beyond.
"You..." The social worker's voice vanished beneath the screams of thousands.
The crowd stampeded. Adrian yanked Alyssa away from the floor and into the gap between the two airlocks. He pressed into the wall and hugged her tight to his chest, shielding her from the horde of scared, stupid people. She was a fragile child; the stampede would kill her as quickly as the void. A myriad of blows rained down on his back and sides, bruising them, but he held on so tight her bones groaned. Someone's elbow jabbed the back of his head, slamming his forehead into the wall. Hot blood dripped down his face.
Alyssa gagged something. She couldn't breathe. Adrian loosened his grip, but the wall of people slammed him into her. She gasped, face slowly turning blue.
Adrian drew his knife and stabbed behind his back. Someone screamed, and the pressure lightened. Alyssa gasped down air. The pressure vanished entirely, and the thundering footsteps faded into the distance.
"Aly?" Adrian gasped. His ribs ached, and his lungs were tight.
She shook her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"We're alive, Aly. That's all that matters." He craned his neck to check the lobby.
The crowd faded into the depths of the station. They'd left the deck painted with blood, and strewn with crushed bodies. Adrian had seen a lot of death. It didn’t matter the domineering noble, the brave soldier, or the scared kid, they all did the same routine, they all wilted in terror before death’s face. And when they were gone they all looked identical..
Was there an emergency venting station? Yes, there, a blue light flashing over a cabinet at the far side of the room, forgotten in the panic.
"Dad, what do we do?" Alyssa gasped, and pointed at the bodies.
"We go through them. Just follow me, little one," Adrian said. They linked elbows.
Inside the emergency station were several dozen grey EVA suits, neatly folded. Adrian yanked out two. "One size fits all. Pull it on like your cheer jumpsuit," he said. Alyssa stepped into the suit and pulled it up her body. Adrian played with her collar so it sat even, and checked her over for twisted seams. Then he unfolded the helmet from her back pocket and slipped it over her head. "How's it feel?"
"I'm going to sweat horribly, but it fits well," she said.
"Good. Let's go," he said, and took her hand.
"What about Germaine?"
"Fine." Adrian tossed a suit at the woman, who was still huddled in her corner. "Pull this on. Don't follow us. Find a shelter and pray."
"Dad, that was cold," Alyssa said as he led her away.
"Being caught in a war zone without a gun sucks," Adrian said. He opened his wrist comp and dialed Amelie, then Molitor.
When his radio failed, he called the massive towers on Vindication's prow. His personal ID got him straight through the filters and subordinates to the bridge itself.
"Adrian we’re going to hell out here, where are you?" Amelie said.
"I'm thrilled to hear your beautiful voice. I'm trying to make my way back, heavy one lovely teenage daughter," he said. He saw flames engulfing the monorail tunnel, and stopped. "Monorail's down. I'm outside station Parks 7E. Can you get me a path back to the dock?"
"Yes, sir. Working on it," Amelie said.
"Who's shooting us?"
"No idea. Every ship just opened fire on every other other. The sentry batteries were online. Admiralty is broadcasting on all general channels trying to make heads or tails," she said.
Was there a coup going on? Adrian would worry about that when he got under that ten meters of armor plate.
"How's the old girl?"
"We're sitting tight in dry dock waiting for you and every crew who was on shore leave to get back. Ravin's hot-shotting the reactors and Cross is reloading the fighters for combat. Get back here ASAP," Amelie said.
Adrian's comp projected a winding map. Five kilometers of congested, possibly vented corridor separated him from relative safety.
After circling around the burning station, Adrian and Alyssa hopped in the maintenance walkway below the monorail and followed it back the way he came. Periodically the station shook underfoot, indicating the deaths of thousands. Civilians ran back and forth either way, some bleeding heavily. Their path took them two kilometers until they came to a sealed bulkhead. Through the windows Adrian saw the monorail lying in its tracks, strewn with vacuum-bloated corpses.
"Amelie, the path up ahead is blocked by a hull breach at Patterson module. I need a new path," he said.
"Uploaded," she said. Three kilometers. Adrian helped Alyssa from the walkway and took a left. They were surrounded by neon signs advertising strip clubs and red-letter districts. He hurried on, barging through a card game and its glitter-clad players.
"Watch it!" someone hissed. Alyssa stopped to apologize. Adrian tugged her along out of the scrum. A couple strippers ran past, everything hanging out. Adrian threaded through the red-light module. As the exit was in sight, two black uniforms stepped into his path.
They were barely older than Alyssa, and wore an Ensign’s red star. Rookies straight from their first tour. On their breasts were the same ship badge as on Alyssa's.
"Commander!" a woman called. He recognized them: Ruthie Garcia and Tobias Grenn. They'd been working the radio room during Vindication's last deployment.
"Make way!" Adrian said.
"Do you know what's going on? Everyone just started shooting," Tobias said.
"We're returning to Vindication. Follow me and don't talk," Adrian said.
They exchanged looks, and Ruthie smirked. Her hand dropped to the sidearm on her belt, index finger brushing the safety. Tobias placed a hand on his rapier. That couldn't be a coincidence, with what looked like a mutiny going down.
"Can I have your sidearm? I left mine behind," he said. He shunted Alyssa behind him with a protesting whimper.
"What?" Tobias said, and looked between Adrian and Ruthie.
Ruthie rolled her eyes, and drew her sidearm.
"Kill them bo—"
Adrian interrupted her with a left haymaker that sent her sidearm clattering away. He drew his gla
dius overhand and buried it up to the hilt in the huge target of Tobias' belly; then, as the boy doubled over, cut upwards under his ribs to pop his heart. He rounded on Ruthie as she crawled for her gun, and pinned her under his knee.
"Don't threaten my daughter.” He stabbed between her shoulder blades and watched her convulsions fade.
"Holy shit, Dad," Alyssa said. She was huddled by the wall, hugging herself.
"They were coming to kill us. It's alright," Adrian said. He reached for her. "Come on, we'll talk on the ship."
A nuke hit nearby; the deck reared up and threw Adrian back onto Ruthie's body. The overhead lights sparked and died, and a structural beam thick as an atlatl speared through the ceiling and continued through the deck, missing Alyssa's sprawled figure by meters. Adrian leapt back up. Aly remained on her knees, clutching at her left temple. Blood trickled through her fingers and down her jacket collar. Adrian ran forward to scoop her up, carry her if need be.
The emergency bulkhead slammed down before him, trapping him outside the module.
"No!" Adrian cried. His words were whipped away by the rising hiss of air being sucked away. Somewhere behind him, civilians screamed as they realized what was happening. Adrian dropped to his knees and braced himself as the air leak rose from a howling roar to an invisible fist that seized his limbs and dragged him up. He held until the fist fell to a suffocating whimper, and disappeared into the complete silence of a vacuum.
Adrian stood, and ran to the bulkhead. There was a single window, a meter square of quartz. Alyssa was standing on the other side.
"No," Adrian said, and no one heard him. Alyssa screamed something, but the vacuum between them blocked out her words. Adrian pressed his helmet to the window.
"Open the door!"
"I’m trying!" He found the quick release lever and pulled. A red light flared. He found the access console and showed his ID, then pulled again. A warning scrolled across the screen about only maintenance personnel being able to open bulkheads. Then, Adrian remembered that he was standing in a vacuum, and Alyssa wasn't. He shoved his face back in the window.