by Eric Thomson
“If he divined we intend to take Parth Five, contrary to common sense,” the holographic Mikkel at Morane’s elbow said.
“Ostrow will have calculated our trajectory when we went FTL and extrapolated. He’s known since shortly after we jumped that this is our destination and that unless he pushes his ships into the highest hyperspace bands, we can transit through the wormhole before he reaches the terminus. Then, if his orders allow him to leave the Parth system, it becomes a question of whether he thinks following us is prudent.”
“His orders may be to prevent Tanith from falling into the wrong hands, Skipper.”
“Possibly. But if so, why not destroy her right after freeing Grand Duke Custis and his retinue?”
“Perhaps Custis changed his mind once someone showed him a passenger manifest? Or they meant it as a trap for someone specific, and we buggered it up for them? We’ll probably never know for sure.”
“Saving several hundred lives will suffice.”
“In a galaxy where billions will die prematurely in the next few decades because humanity simply can’t play nice with itself, I’m not sure that counts as a great victory.”
Morane gave his second in command a sad smile. “I’ll take my victories when and where I can. It may not matter in the grand scheme of things, but perhaps the ancestor of whoever is destined to reunite a fractured humanity is even now in one of Tanith’s stasis pods. Think about that.”
“I’d rather think about a way to avoid transiting a wormhole that went rogue shortly before our arrival and no longer connects to the destination we want.”
“Turning one of our shuttles into a drone and sending it ahead to reconnoiter the other end would work. If you’re willing to risk losing it, considering we may not be able to obtain a replacement in our lifetimes.”
Mikkel sighed. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re too worried about preserving what’s still ours.”
“One of us has to be, Skipper. But now that you mention it, wasting a wee little shuttle to preserve a battle group, even one as tiny and unusual as what’s left of the 197th is one of those trade-offs even I can contemplate with perfect equanimity. I’ll have two of them configured just in case while we wait for Narwhal.”
“Excellent idea.”
“If you’ll excuse me.”
Her hologram vanished, leaving Morane to stare once more at the tactical projection showing his pitifully small caravan slowly approach Wormhole Five. Around him, the small CIC crew worked quietly and efficiently, including the petty officer who transferred over from Nicias before the frigate left the 197th to find its way home, replacing a noncom who wanted to see his family again. Time ticked by until Chief Lettis raised his hand again.
“Narwhal just dropped out of FTL.”
“Finally. Signals, please set up a link with—”
“Commander Ryzkov is calling, sir.”
— 36 —
When Ryzkov’s face appeared on a side display, Morane smiled. “Glad to see you made it, Lori.”
But instead of responding in kind, she grimaced. “We have a problem, sir. Your folks in Tanith found a doomsday machine. Someone rigged the antimatter fuel system to blow when the hyperdrives draw power. Thankfully, that’s the only thing they found, but I’d like to send a team of engineers aboard to disarm the booby trap and do a complete survey before we transit through the wormhole.” She paused. “I transmitted the holo scan Lieutenant Vietti provided. You may want to ask your chief engineer for an opinion.”
Silence cloaked the CIC at Ryzkov’s announcement. Morane briefly thanked the Almighty that he’d accepted the suggestion Narwhal carry Tanith until they could survey her. Otherwise, he’d have condemned hundreds to death, including a half squadron of DeCarde’s Pathfinders and three of his own crew members.
“How long will it take to put a team aboard?”
“A few minutes. I’ll simply shift them with a shuttle.”
“Do it.”
“How long until we cross the event horizon?”
Morane glanced at the status display. “At the current velocity, a bit over three hours.”
“Hopefully, it’ll be enough. Was there anything else?”
“No.”
“Narwhal, out.”
Morane touched his command chair’s arm. “Engineering, this is the captain.”
“Pavlich here, sir. Signals sent me a holo from Tanith’s antimatter fuel system. I presume you’d like an analysis.”
“I do. Someone appears to have rigged a booby trap. Narwhal is sending a team aboard to examine it.”
The chief engineer grunted. “There’s no appears about it, Captain. The moment someone lights the hyperdrives, it’s farewell cruel universe. But I doubt the rebels did it. The degree of access you’d need to set that trap? There’s no doubt this is the crew’s handiwork. Boarding parties looking for a smash and grab won’t have the time or the expertise. Tanith’s own chief engineer on the other hand? And I bet he showed the boarding party what they did, as a final, desperate attempt to prevent piracy. It’s what I’d do. There’s no point in sabotaging your own ship to immobilize it if the enemy doesn’t know what you’ve done.”
“Which explains why they decanted Custis and his family, then left Tanith as a derelict instead of bringing her to Parth. And why they massacred the crew no doubt, by way of revenge or to vent their rage.”
“And came back to look once they spotted us nosing around,” Creswell said. “They must be unhappy we found a way to recover and move the ship.”
“Which makes me wonder who else of value is in the stasis pods. One or more people of interest to the rebellion, hence the unwillingness to destroy Tanith. But the rebels either didn’t know who or didn’t want to decant them yet.”
A grimace briefly twisted Creswell’s face. “Meaning Ostrow is on our tail right now.”
“Be that as it may, Captain,” Pavlich said. “Even though I’m not seeing it in person, I’d say there’s a strong probability Tanith’s chief engineer made sure only he or one of his could unlock the booby trap. That’s what I would do. If disarming the trap was easy, the rebels would have tried already, but something caused them to hesitate, hence their leaving the ship until they found an answer or a transport. I’d recommend Narwhal’s folks don’t even try. At least not while the ships are mated. It would be easier to install a failsafe device to prevent any antimatter from flowing through the system in the event someone or something accidentally spools up the hyperdrives. That, or vent the damned fuel. And check for other problems. If Narwhal hasn’t suffered from carrying the load so far, she’ll do the wormhole transit fine. In fact, why don’t you let me speak with whoever’s leading the engineering team aboard Tanith?”
Morane glanced at the signals petty officer, who nodded. “We’re patching you in.”
**
A pressure-suited man stepped out of Narwhal’s shuttle and gazed around the prison ship’s narrow hangar deck until he saw Lieutenant Vietti standing by the control room door. Raising his helmet visor, the man walked over to her, trailed by two more pressure-suited spacers.
“Peg Vietti?”
She nodded.
“I’m Kyle Wen, assistant chief engineer aboard your taxi. I understand you found an explosive problem in your fuel lines.”
“We’re not the only ones with that problem, Kyle. Not so long as we’re dangling off your keel.”
Wen grinned. “Ain’t that the truth? I was speaking to your ship’s chief engineer on the way over here. He seems to think we should let the booby trap be and simply make sure no fuel passes through it, either by accident or by design. He suggested a few ways.”
“Why?”
“So long as we can carry your ship, there’s no need to risk tampering with what is probably a very tamper-proof trap. Or so your chief engineer thinks because he’d design it that way himself.”
Vietti shrugged. “In that case, take his advice. Roman Pavlich is no
slouch in figuring out things that stump everyone else. But what does Commander Ryzkov think?”
“So far, so good. Narwhal came through the FTL jump without strain, and Pavlich figures it’s proof enough she’ll have no problems with the wormhole transit. My own boss and our captain agree with this, by the way, so that’s what we’ll do. Once I’ve shut off the antimatter fuel system, we’ll do a complete survey of engineering to make sure Tanith’s previous crew didn’t also install something triggered by a wormhole transit.”
“Is such a thing even possible?” Vietti gestured toward the corridor, inviting the team to follow.
Wen fell into step beside her. “Commander Pavlich seems to think there might be an outside chance. He told me what to look for. I also wouldn’t mind taking a peek at the stasis stiffs. I’ve never seen the inside of a prison transport.”
“It’s not terribly interesting. If you wanted excitement, you should have been with us when we pushed seventy-five real stiffs out the airlocks.”
“What’s this ‘we’ shit, Peg?” Barca asked with a broad grin as she came around a corner. “According to my recollection, that cleanup job was Marines only, while you squids lounged on the bridge. And you must be the technical wizard sent by our mothership. I’m Adrienne Barca, B Squadron.”
“Kyle Wen. And before you ask, yes I play cards and no, I don’t play against Marines anymore. You people take it way too seriously, almost like it was a blood sport.”
“You’ve come to disarm our bomb?”
“Render it safe by cutting off the flow of antimatter fuel. This ship won’t be traveling FTL under its own power for a while yet, if ever.”
“Too bad.” Barca winked at Vietti. “Peg was looking forward to calling herself captain.”
**
“Ah, Iona.” Morane smiled at Vanquish’s executive officer as she entered his day cabin. “I was discussing the Tanith situation with Sister Gwenneth and Colonel DeCarde, and we were speculating about why the rebels left the ship more or less intact instead of destroying it after freeing Custis and family.”
Gwenneth nodded politely at Mikkel while DeCarde gave her a wink. “As I was telling Jonas, our brother, Friar Locarno, could well give us the answer to that question, but it might still be prudent to wait until we’re no longer in danger of pursuit before waking him.”
“Peg Vietti called to report that Narwhal’s engineers disabled the antimatter fuel cycler. Tanith can no longer go FTL, but she won’t accidentally turn into a tiny supernova either. They’re still looking for other potential problems, however.”
Morane glanced at the time readout. “One hour before we cross the event horizon. Otherwise we’re stuck making a full turn. But you didn’t come here to tell me something the CIC would have reported in due course.”
Mikkel made a face.
“The cox’n caught two of the crew going at it bare-handed in one of the storage compartments. Frayed tempers, he thinks. It could be due to the reality of our situation finally sinking in. We’ve always figured some of the crew might have been better off leaving aboard Nicias. The two in question aren’t known for disciplinary problems. Quite the contrary, but neither will say why the fisticuffs happened, and both will take bosun’s punishment without demur. However, the cox’n figures it’s the beginning, and we will see more such incidents as we head deeper into the unknown.”
Gwenneth gave Morane a knowing look. “This is much as I expected. Katarin and I both sensed that the crew’s morale was a bit more brittle than the Marines’, so it’s unsurprising that the first reported disturbance involved spacers. If you would like us to seek out those two crew members and offer spiritual solace, let me know who they are.”
The first officer shook her head. “Not yet, Sister. I’d rather let the chiefs and petty officers deal with minor disciplinary and morale matters for now. Giving ratings experiencing tough times a shoulder to lean on comes with the job. In that way, we’re much like our Marine Corps siblings. But it couldn’t hurt for you to speak with Chief Shaney since he’ll be watching over the crew like a worried father now that problems might surface.”
“I shall do so.”
Mikkel headed for the samovar, intent on a fresh cup of tea when Morane’s communicator buzzed.
“CIC to the captain.”
“Yes, Annalise.”
“Sensors picked up seven hyperspace trails headed in our direction. They’ll arrive in about thirty minutes. Chief Lettis thinks whoever that is must be pushing the upper bands, based on the trail’s visibility.”
“Ostrow. Either someone has ordered him to recover Tanith come what may, or he doesn’t believe we’ll actually use Wormhole Five. Tell Commander Ryzkov time’s up for her engineering team. She has fifteen minutes to recover them, no more. Otherwise, they temporarily become part of Tanith’s crew. As soon as that’s done, the battle group will accelerate toward the event horizon. I’d like to be in transit when Ostrow comes out of FTL.”
“Yes, sir. CIC, out.”
Mikkel returned the unused cup she held in her hand to the sideboard and sighed. “No rest for anyone, wicked or not. I’ll be on the bridge to supervise preparations, Skipper.”
“And I should resume my stroll through the ship,” Gwenneth said, standing. “Katarin and I find counseling by walking more effective than waiting for those in need to knock at our door.”
Morane grinned. “Proving once again that certain common sense leadership precepts apply across a broad range of disciplines.”
— 37 —
“Commander Ryzkov will leave the engineering team in Tanith,” Creswell announced the moment Morane entered the CIC and dropped into his command chair. “That way they can complete the internal survey during the wormhole transit.”
“Excellent. Did she think there was still a risk to Narwhal?”
Creswell shook her head. “Not that I could tell. But then, I’ve always found her to be all business all the time.”
He turned to Mikkel’s hologram at his elbow. “Is everyone else good?”
“Everyone is synced and waiting for the word to accelerate so we can hit the wormhole before Ostrow and company show up to stop us.”
“The word is given, Iona. Engage drives. We’re out of here, probably for good. Hopefully, for good.”
Morane called up a view of Parth as seen from high orbit, courtesy of Vanquish’s long-range sensors, wondering if this was the last time he would set eyes on the world that served the empire and the Commonwealth before it as a planet-sized prison.
Would the tens, if not hundreds of thousands of political prisoners marooned there by successive Ruggero dynasty emperors fare any better under the rebels, or was it different boss, same garbage? And what about Custis, the self-declared sector viceroy? Would he set up his capital on Parth, surrounded by the worst humanity offered, save for those condemned to death and executed instead of exiled? Or was Custis already on his way to Yotai? Questions to which Morane would likely never find an answer.
The countdown timer in the display’s lower right-hand corner was approaching zero when Chief Lettis let out a muffled curse.
“Those buggers forced the upper hyperspace bands. They just dropped out of FTL and can’t help but see us enter the wormhole terminus.”
Morane bit back a curse of his own. “Thank you, Chief. It is what it is. We can only hope Ostrow gets cold feet at the thought of transiting to a quadruple star system.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Mikkel asked.
“He’s still subject to wormhole physics, meaning he’ll be several hours behind us at the very least. While we’re in transit, I’ll sit down with Tupo and figure out our navigation plot when we reach the other side.”
“And hope the latest survey still reflects reality, lest we become permanent wanderers.”
He smirked at her. “Always the optimist, Iona.”
“One of us has to be, Skipper. Contrary to the learned sisters, I believe the universe, or the Almighty as they wou
ld say, is less about rewarding compassionate behavior than messing with mere mortals for fun and games.”
“Cynic.”
“Where I hail from, we see cynicism as a virtue. Time to say farewell. We cross the event horizon in thirty seconds.”
The signals petty officer raised his hand. “Admiral Ostrow wishes to speak with you, sir.”
“He’s a bit late for that. No reply.”
“They’re accelerating,” Lettis said.
At that moment the tactical projection went blank as Vanquish crossed the event horizon. “And we are gone.”
**
“I’m underwhelmed.” DeCarde gave Morane a disappointed grimace. With the ship at battle stations in case hostile forces waited for them at the wormhole’s other end, she was back at her station in the CIC, along with the rest of the command crew. “From your discussions with Iona and the other captains, I was expecting a hellish part of space where our survival would be iffy. But I can’t even make out four suns.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this system, other than the fact it’s devoid of habitable planets. The wormhole junction, is something of a mess, however. Twenty-four termini at last survey in what is, relative to galactic distances, a fairly restricted area makes for unpredictable interactions. That’s why the network goes through single star systems, although we’ll use binaries if necessary since there’s so many of them.”
“But quadruples are a gamble, especially when they’re young,” Mikkel’s hologram said. “And we lost this one. The reason you only see two suns is that we’re not in ISC37800-24. Something kicked the terminus from Parth out of that system.”
“Oops.” Creswell’s eyebrows rose. “And you’re sure we didn’t simply misplace a pair of stars?”
Mikkel’s chuckle was as grim as death.
“Oops indeed. ISC37800-24 A, the system’s dominant star is spectral type B7V, which neither of those two out there is, so it’s clear we’re somewhere else. We don’t know yet where, but Tupo is running that binary’s spectral type against the catalog. Hopefully, we’ll find a match and an entry that includes a wormhole survey. Otherwise, in technical terms, we’re fucked.” She didn’t add the expected ‘I told you so,’ but Morane heard it nonetheless.