"So where are we now?"
Jarl’s fingers were spread wide. He twisted his wrists, and the ship rotated. They could see a line of green dots making its way through the ship.
"They’ve restored power along this route. I can’t simulate the cargo slug, but we’re logically closer to the hull than the center of the vessel. So, this end must be us."
JonB caught Jarl’s eye, and raised his own hands to manipulate the image. The Gamma stepped back to stand at Jantine’s side. JonB was focusing on the edges of the image rather than the details of the ship, poking at some unfamiliar icons with an intent expression.
Jarl kept his eyes moving, taking in not only what the scientist was doing but also the actions of the rest of the team.
"Commander. These people. I . . ." Jarl’s voice was unsteady for the first time in Jantine’s memory.
"I know, Jarl. Something about this ship is very wrong, and we need to leave it as soon as possible. Once we’re away, we can take time to worry about who and what we had to kill. You said there was a maintenance access hatch?"
"There is, but I don’t think it’s an option for us. They’re not going to . . ."
Jantine turned to look at him; he was wearing an uncharacteristic expression of surprise. It took her a moment to understand what had affected him so, and she realized that the rest of the team had gone silent as well.
Most of them, anyway. The Omegas had stopped their slow head motions and were moving toward JonB and the holographic projection. One of them placed a broad hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him aside
What are they doing? This isn’t like them at all.
The Omegas took up seated positions on either side of the projection and expanded it even further. Unlike the rest of the mods, they still wore their jumpsuits, and the orange skin of their arms and faces was exposed. Jantine, JonB and Jarl moved into the center of the assembled repair gear, marveling at the speed and grace of the Omega’s hands.
Fingers that could crush rock danced through the holographic ship, spinning it almost too quickly to see. Jantine recognized some of the icons JonB was studying only seconds before as they enlarged and contracted, seemingly at random. The ship was taking on more definition, additional lines of light forming as they worked.
More green paths spread through the ship, and a large solid section of red appeared. Jantine felt a wave of deep sadness wash over her as a blue dot appeared inside the red and then expanded into a solid line. She watched the team’s path move down several corridors to their present position, and then resolve into nine softly pulsing glows.
It took Jantine a moment to realize they’d stopped working, and that the image also showed two glowing dots back at their starting point, and one in approximately the area Jarl had identified as a landing bay.
Then she noticed that both Omegas were staring at something. Or rather, someone. Following their eyes, she saw Carlton standing alone, with his handheld in one hand and the oversized pack he was using to carry captured enemy gear in the other.
"What? What is it? What do you want?"
Carlton’s voice was trembling, and Jantine could hear the pain of their collective losses fully expressed in it. He was on the edge of losing control, and she had no idea how to help him.
She looked back to the Omegas, searching their orange faces for some clue of what to do next. The nearer one stretched out a hand to Carlton, and pointed.
"I don’t understand! I’m not a Gamma. I can’t . . . I can’t help you!"
Carlton walked forward, but the expression on his face indicated he really didn’t want to. Every step he took was punctuated with another denial, and by the time he reached the Omegas he was nearly in tears.
The analytical part of Jantine’s mind noted that he left the oversized pack behind but was still wearing his own and carrying his handheld. The Omega reached out to Carlton and gently relieved him of both, placing them on the deck. The Omega then placed his hands on Carlton’s shoulders, using four eyes to stare into the Beta’s two. Carlton started shaking, and the Omega leaned forward until his broad forehead touched the top of Carlton’s helmet. The support tech was sobbing openly now, and he collapsed into the Omega’s arms.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
Hearing the raw emotion Carlton had been holding in since his sib’s death made Jantine want to cry herself. Not knowing what else to do, Jantine looked at JonB. The scientist’s face was streaked with tears, and he made no move to wipe them away.
Carlton disengaged himself from the Omega and walked back to join the rest of the mods. Jantine kept watching the Omegas, but pulled him back a step to make sure he was okay.
"Carlton, what just happened?"
The one who hadn’t comforted Carlton reached for the handheld and began tapping in commands. The other one opened the pack and withdrew the case containing Jantine’s portable computer terminal.
"He helped me, I think. Since Harren died, I’ve been . . . I was . . . lost, I guess. He took some of that pain away."
Jantine wasn’t entirely satisfied with this explanation, but what the Omegas were doing now needed all of her attention. From Jantine’s vantage point, she could just make out the terminal’s screen, and saw it was still running JonB’s course tracking program. JonB must have seen the same thing, because he powered up his own handheld and gasped.
"They can’t—they shouldn’t be able to do that!"
Jantine watched the projection as small red objects began appearing around the ship. The image contracted, and then a new green line stretched out from the cargo slug and to the edges of the projection. It contracted again, adding more red objects until they nearly filled the corridor.
Nearly. There were green objects making their way through the debris field as well, and their inexorable progress sent a shiver down her spine.
JonB’s next words echoed Jantine’s thoughts completely.
"We have to get off this ship!"
Jantine turned and addressed the team. "Pack it up, everyone. We’re leaving. I want—"
The Omega’s hand on her shoulder was an unexpected interruption. She raised her eyes to the other mod’s, preparing herself in case the Omega was going to do to her whatever they’d done to Carlton. Instead, it pointed to the projection. The other Omega spread its hands wide, zooming in on the wounded ship represented at its center. Jantine started a mental clock on how soon the closest of the green icons she’d seen would reach the ship, uncomfortable with both the size of the image and the time she had left.
The dreadnaught’s familiar wireframe was back, but the Omega wasn’t done yet. The projection focused on the transit bay, then the Omega brought its hands close together. The projection collapsed into a cloud of colored lights then resolved into a video image.
Jantine saw a column of armored figures walking down a wide passageway, escorting some piece of bulky equipment into a large room. The Omega squeezed her shoulder for emphasis while pointing with its other hand at the image. Jantine tried not to think about how much pressure the Omega could exert on her if it wanted to, focusing instead on the intense feeling of need that pulsed through as the long finger indicated the equipment.
"I think I understand," Jantine said, "but our priority has to be getting off this ship. If we can secure whatever that is, we will, but . . ."
The sound of the other Omega’s hands slamming together at full speed was like a small explosion, and it nearly stopped Jantine’s heart. The projected image disappeared, and the feeling of need changed to a sense of dread.
Jantine desperately wanted to escape, but the Omega’s hand on her shoulder held her fast. She was keenly aware that the rest of the mods in the corridor were staring at her, but like them she had no idea how to deal with an angry Omega. The very concept was inconceivable, but there was no mistaking the expressions on their faces.
The Omegas were giving the orders now, and they weren’t taking no for an answer.
Doria had told Jantine t
hey didn’t think about the same things other mods did, but it was apparent now that they were more than capable of doing so. She’d also told Jantine they had faith in her leadership, and would do whatever she asked of them. But nothing Doria said could have prepared her for this.
Squaring her courage as much as she could, Jantine put her hand on the Omega’s wrist and pushed. The hand came off her shoulder, and she backed up a step so she could look at both Omegas at the same time.
"Fine. But you have to tell me why. If we don’t get off this ship, all of us are going to die. You understand that, don’t you? You have to."
Both Omegas raised their left hands to their jaws, trailing a finger down the line of their broad faces in a gesture that did nothing to soften the hard expressions they wore. Jantine was about to repeat her question when Crassus’s low rumble came from the other end of their makeshift encampment.
"Commander Jantine. Scout Katra on the scattercomm. Says it’s urgent."
The Omegas made the gesture again, and Jantine realized they were trying to answer her question. She mirrored their action and heard seven clicks in her ear.
I guess I can’t blame any of you. I’d want to hear this too.
"Go."
"Boss, I’ve acquired another enemy comm. You need to turn yours on. Now."
Jantine’s eyes darted to JonB, who moved forward holding the small, black box. He pointed to a switch on the face of the comm and gave her a weak smile that did little to mask his fear.
"Should be fine. We’re back on their power grid, no feedback."
Jantine nodded, and pressed the switch. An unfamiliar voice sounded from the comm, but the tone of the speaker was one she recognized instantly.
This man is in charge, and is not happy.
". . . eat. This is Captain Horace Kołodziejski, of the System Defense Force. I hereby assume command of your battle group and order Captain Aloysius Martin be placed under arrest as a traitor. Power down all weapons systems, and prepare to be boarded. Any person or persons attempting to assist Captain Martin will be considered enemy combatants and subject to the Interstellar Compact’s rules of war. This is your final warning."
Jantine turned off the device and looked at the Omegas. The one on the left picked up Carlton’s handheld and tapped a command. The holographic image sprang into life again, and this time she could see what looked like the nosecone of a shuttle, and the edge of an open cargo ramp.
But more importantly, she saw a large number of weapons in people’s hands, half of which were pointed at a tall figure in a hardsuit whose own hands were empty and raised in the air. At its side was a slightly shorter individual holding two hand weapons, constantly shifting targets in what looked to Jantine like a defensive pattern.
Drawing on her memory of the ship’s schematic, Jantine made her decision.
"Katra. Look around your present position for a maintenance access panel. There’s a flight deck one level up and two hundred meters from my current position with multiple hostiles. Get there and secure the situation."
"Yes, boss."
Six clicks sounded in her ear as Katra deactivated her comm. Jantine turned to Jarl, who was starting to fidget.
"Go. We’ll catch up."
Jarl sealed his faceplate and started running. He stopped briefly to rip a panel off the wall, then disappeared inside the revealed maintenance shaft before it hit the deck.
The hole was too small for either Crassus or Artemus to follow him, which was probably why Jarl had dismissed the shaft as a viable path. The Omegas certainly wouldn’t fit through the opening, so the rest of the team would have to go the long way around to the flight deck.
It’s time.
"The rest of you, get ready for a fight. Make sure you’ve got your handhelds and packs, but leave any captured gear you’re not sure of behind. Crassus, on point. Move out."
The Delta started running down the hall at an impressive pace, weapons ready. JonB stepped forward to retrieve the map panel, and the Omegas watched him with burning eyes. Whatever was going on inside their heads, they were still clearly intent on the projected image, and when it powered off they turned their attention to Jantine.
Jantine matched their glares as best she could, but she didn’t have any time to waste on power games. Breaking eye contact, she tightened her grip on the pulse rifle and started running after Crassus. She trusted Artemus and JonB to get the rest of the mods organized—Katra and Jarl needed her more than they did right now, and she wasn’t going to lose anyone else today if she could help it.
If the Omegas were no longer under her complete command, she’d deal with it when the time came. She had to trust that whatever agenda they were following now was in her best interests, and those of the Colonies.
Because if they’re not on our side anymore, I have no idea of how to stop them . . .
Aloysius
"ALL RIGHT, EVERYONE. LET’S NOT DO ANYTHING WE’RE going to regret later."
Martin tried for his most amiable smile, turning his head from side to side in an attempt to win over any of the security troopers on the flight deck who were wavering. It was hard to look like a trusted commander with your hands in the air, but he’d been a line officer for a lot of years and knew that just about anything was possible if you refused to give up.
Kołodziejski’s broadcast couldn’t have come at a worse time. Another few minutes, and he and Harlan would have been off the ship and commandeering one of the remaining tenders. They would have been able to disappear into interplanetary space, and the Alpha would have been safe.
Well, as much as it could be, under the circumstances.
The way Harlan kept shifting her targets certainly wasn’t helping matters, and Martin was of two minds about his next step. He was still processing Horace’s words when she snatched his gun off his waist, and her aggressive posture was making his negotiating position very difficult.
He could surrender, and hope to negotiate some sort of mutually beneficial deal, or he could try and charm his way out of immediate danger and proceed with the original plan. But as long as everyone was pointing guns at one another, it was only a matter of time until something happened he couldn’t talk his way out of.
From the looks of things, about half the troopers on the flight deck and all of the techs were on his side. They’d already stowed the gennie on the shuttle—if he could just get himself and Harlan aboard with a minimum of casualties he might still be able to salvage the situation.
"There’s a completely rational explanation for all this. What you just heard is only half the story, and I’d like to think that I’ve earned enough respect to tell you the rest. Can we just take a few minutes and talk?"
It was hard to get a read on people with blanked faceplates and wearing hardsuits, but Martin saw some of the troopers aiming at him shift their feet a little.
It was the newer, younger members of his crew that he needed to win back—men and women who hadn’t lived enough to understand how many shades of gray there were in the universe. He’d made a point of sending the more reactionary troopers elsewhere; if he could appeal to just one of them, the rest would follow.
"Sir, ma’am, lower your weapons, get down on the deck, and remove your helmets. Captain Kołodziejski’s orders are valid, and I am required to enforce them."
The trooper’s voice was somewhere between cold confidence and abject terror, and if the rest of the people currently pointing weapons at him felt the same way, Martin had more to work with than he’d originally thought.
Smile still in place, Martin turned to face the speaker. He was one of three troopers with their slugthrowers raised, and they didn’t seem at all fazed by either Harlan’s steady aim or the pair of their comrades aiming at the back of their heads.
I’d be proud of you all, if I wasn’t so damn scared this will end in a bloodbath.
Martin kept his eyes fixed on the troopers. It was easier to be brave when no one could see the fear in your eyes, and that fea
r had to have these troopers asking some hard questions right now.
Okay, time to roll the dice.
"Son, everyone, I’m going to remove my helmet now, all right. No tricks, I just want to talk this thing through."
"Sir."
Harlan’s one-word statement was a question, caution, and declaration of support. So far she hadn’t technically aided and abetted him, but as soon as the shooting started there would be no going back for her. If this plan had any chance of succeeding he needed at least one other senior officer free to act.
"It’s all right, Commander Harlan. I don’t have anything to fear from these people. They’re following orders, just like I am. We all want the same thing here, to understand what’s going on. Here I go, I’m taking my helmet off, nice and easy."
Without the suit mics relaying his voice over both the comms and external speakers, he’d have to pick his words very carefully over the next few minutes. Every second Martin wasn’t winning back his people, Horace Kołodziejski got that much closer to coming aboard and taking physical control of the Valiant.
The seals at his neck released, and Martin lifted the helmet up and over his head. He hadn’t been wearing the suit all that long, but he was shocked by how cold the air in the launch bay felt. The flight deck had its own power and gravity generators, but the air temperature was regulated by the same systems that maintained the rest of the ship.
If Harlan’s people haven’t got them online by now, they’re probably too far gone to salvage. In that case, it won’t matter how much power they can reroute—the Valiant is dead and so is its crew. We’re too far away from any friendly faces out here for hope of rescue.
Martin felt a momentary twinge of guilt—after all, it had been his orders that put the Valiant and her support ships in this region of space in the first place. He’d picked this position specifically because nothing was supposed to be out here, and no one could have predicted the random appearance of a rock or ship or whatever it was, or that it would cause so much damage to so many systems at once.
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