by S. H. Jucha
“Position and distance?” the commander asked.
“Um … they’re directly in front of us, Commander. Looks to be almost 400 fighters, 100K kilometers out, and they’re just sitting there in a wall formation.”
“Put it on the monitor,” the admiral ordered.
The view of precisely spaced Haraken fighters was no sooner on screen than the ships began a strange dance. First two vessels moved, one sliding back and the other forward, and shifted to take each other’s position. The movements were precise, mechanical, not as any human might fly. Then eight fighters completed the same eerie maneuver. Soon after, all the ships were participating in the dance without a missed step or collision. Just as quickly as it started, the maneuvers ended, and the effect on those watching throughout the UE fleet was as intended.
“Maybe they’re not human,” the ship’s comms officer whispered to the female pilot beside him. “I mean maybe there aren’t any pilots in those ships so they wouldn’t care about their losses.” The comms officer needn’t have whispered. In the silence of the bridge, his comment was overheard by all, and it only echoed the same thought that was on the minds of every bridge officer and crew member.
* * *
It wasn’t long before Lucia got her wish. First the battleship, then the cruisers, and then the destroyers turned around and set a new course, which the Harakens determined was a vector for a return to Saturn.
* * *
The rescue of Sheila by the Rêveur was underway even before the battles were finished. With comms still operational in the fighter, Captain Cordova and Z were able to communicate to Sheila that they were en route to her. Sheila’s terse reply is best left to the imagination. The tumbling of her fighter was wreaking havoc on her inner ear, and she was attempting to limit the effect through the use of her implant with some success.
Using the same method employed to retrieve Lt. Dorian’s severed Dagger eleven years ago, the Rêveur was brought alongside Sheila’s truncated fighter, and Mickey and his people caught the tumbling craft with beams and pulled it into a bay.
Once the bay was pressurized, the crew, composed mostly of Méridiens, took their time extracting Sheila, a New Terran who massed twice any one of the crew members, who was dizzy from her ordeal. When Sheila’s feet were firmly on the deck, she waved off the support, and the three crew members released her. Sheila promptly pitched forward into Mickey’s arms, fortunate that a New Terran was handy to catch a New Terran.
“Not often I have a woman fall into my arms, Commodore,” Mickey quipped.
“Happy to be able to fall into anyone’s arms, Mickey,” Sheila shot back. “But don’t let it go to your head.” Sheila regained her feet and touched Mickey’s face with her fingertips in appreciation.
While making her way to the bridge, a sense of the past overcame Sheila. Eleven years ago, she was a pilot aboard the newly repaired Rêveur, chatting to Tatia about the possibility of becoming a ranking officer, little guessing what the future held for her. Gaining the bridge, she walked up to Z and planted a long, full kiss on the SADE’s mouth.
“Put that one in your crystal memory, my friend. Label it as ‘a thank you from a grateful pilot.’”
Captain Cordova was wearing a gentle smile and a hopeful look in his eye, and Sheila laughed. “Yes, you too, Captain,” Sheila said, crossing the bridge and delivering another kiss.
“One could wish for a third century,” the white-haired captain said with a grin.
-19-
The news of the resounding defeat of Portland’s fleet circulated through the station like air rushing out through a hull breach. Over and over, the message was repeated: four UE warship squadrons destroyed and one Haraken fighter lost but the pilot recovered.
The population of Idona Station — owners, visitors, miners, militia, and rebels — were all having the same thoughts. The Harakens, for all their efforts to engender a peaceful environment for the prosperity of the station and its visitors, reacted with incredible ferocity against anyone who threatened them.
The arrival of the five civilian ships, which were drafted to be Portland’s sacrificial shield, brought a different twist to the station’s circulating stories, especially from the captains’ viewpoints. They were the ones who received the threats directly from Admiral Portland and knew the consequences of disobeying them. As far as the five civilian captains were concerned, the Harakens could do anything to Portland’s fleet so long as they rescued the captains’ crews, passengers, and ships — all of which were the captains’ responsibilities.
* * *
There were a few stationers who were indifferent to the demise of the UE fleet.
Z, returning to the station, exited an airlock to find his two admirers waiting for him.
“Welcome back, Z,” Edmas said, extending his hand for the intricate thumb-lock the rebels used to identify one another.
“Greetings, Edmas,” Z replied, twisting his thumb delicately in Edmas’s grip.
“Milt … I mean welcome, Z,” Jodlyne added, trying to encircle Z’s waist in a hug.
“I’m pleased to see the two of you as well,” Z replied, surprised yet pleased to be greeted in such a manner.
“Will you tell us about the battle, Z?” Edmas asked.
“No, my young friends, I’m not … proud of my achievements in this regard. Let us speak of other things,” Z replied, guiding the teenage rebels down the corridor.
* * *
Once the travelers returned to the carriers, Julien and Cordelia transferred to Idona. They were walking the main corridor when they heard cries of, “Cordelia, Cordelia,” and the rebel children led by Jason and Ginny raced up to them.
Cordelia snatched up Ginny as the other children crowded around her and hugged her body. The smile on her face was as wide as her synth-skin would stretch.
“I nere good,” Ginny declared.
“I hear well,” Cordelia corrected softly. Having been deaf for so long, Ginny was still mastering her speaking skills.
“Look,” Jason said, indicating the initial growth of hair where his scalp was burned, the skin already rejuvenated, and Cordelia dutifully rubbed it and praised its growth.
One of the young boys, a sensitive child who rarely spoke, noticed no one touching Julien. He eased over to the SADE and reached up his little hand to grasp Julien’s. The two, SADE and child, exchanged small smiles, while Cordelia and the other children chatted happily about the happenings on the station.
* * *
The great windfall for Portland’s defeat fell to the salvagers, but most of them held back, frightened of the Harakens’ diabolic weapon, the nanites, which they believed might remain in the salvage area.
One enterprising young man by the name of Jorre had made a good living in the asteroid field, but the lonely existence wasn’t suited to him. Jorre took his small aggregate of funds and invested in a salvage tug. He had one initial success with a stranded yacht, but since then he was spending credits on ship services faster than he was making them. His station account was slowly but surely running out of funds, and it appeared he would soon be headed back to the mining belts if more work wasn’t forthcoming. His problem was that much of his competition was well-established and had the inside track on notices of opportunities. When word of Portland’s defeat reached him, Jorre sought the one kind of individual he thought could help him.
Cordelia was the first SADE Jorre located. “Excuse me, Ma’am,
” Jorre said, twisting his secondhand cap in his hand. “I’m a tug captain, and I’m wondering if you could guide me toward any potential salvage of Portland’s fleet. I mean if it’s safe to do so now … what with the nanites out there.”
The question halted Cordelia’s processes for a moment. Was this what it felt like, Julien, when you met your tug captain? Cordelia thought, eyeing the nervous young man. “Of the four squadrons, Captain, two are no more than dust. However, two destroyer squadrons are available for salvage, and, yes, it is safe to retrieve them. The nanites were inactive within hours after the defeat of the squadrons. What is the name of your tug?”
“The Homeward Bound, Ma’am,” Jorre replied.
Julien, you are not going to believe the impossibility of this coincidence, Cordelia thought. She located the vessel, surprised by its diminutive size, and transferred the relevant data to the ship’s computer. “Your vessel has all the telemetry you require to reach the closest debris sections to the station, Captain. Good fortune,” said Cordelia, bestowing a generous smile on the young man.
“Thank you, Ma’am. Thank you kindly,” Jorre said, extending his hand.
Cordelia reciprocated and found her hand firmly gripped and shaken by both of Jorre’s hands. So young and so earnest, Cordelia thought, watching the youthful captain hurry away.
Jorre was the first salvage tug on-site at the remains of Portland’s delta squadron. But other salvagers would have taken note of his vector and concluded there was opportunity. The first section Jorre located was the entire bridge of a destroyer. It represented a tremendous find with its concentration of electronics and exotic metals. One voice in his head kept saying, “Don’t be greedy, Jorre. This will be tough enough to haul by itself back to the ore smelting station, and competition is coming.” But another voice said, “Think of the profits if we can recover another big piece.”
And, as fortune would have it, Jorre located a destroyer’s massive rear, engines and cowls, another great find. He towed the engine section over to his bridge piece, and reality sank in. His salvage had more mass than he had fuel to haul it for delivery. No credits were offered by the smelters on spec; credits were paid on delivery and only after careful evaluation of the salvage. Sitting on his tug’s bridge, Jorre made his second smart decision since searching out a SADE.
“Idona Station, this is the Homeward Bound, requesting the Haraken SADE, Cordelia.”
“Message received Homeward Bound, please hold.”
Jorre didn’t have time to sip his hot caf before he heard, “Greetings, young Captain. I see by your tug’s data that you’ve made quite a haul. That’s an enormous mass for your vessel, isn’t it?”
“I think I might have gotten in over my head, Ma’am, but I was wondering if you would help me. Could you tell me which of these two sections would be the more valuable salvage?”
“One moment, Captain.”
While Jorre waited, he checked his telemetry and saw seven good-sized tugs, each quite larger than his, making their way toward his position. The closest would arrive within another day and a half and then it might become an issue of who had the larger tug. He knew he couldn’t hold on to both salvage pieces. Then it struck Jorre that he was no longer on the station, and the Harakens didn’t hold sway out here in the debris field. There was the distinct possibility that he wouldn’t be able to keep either section.
“Jorre, I have a freighter captain on the comms who is interested in your salvage,” Cordelia said. “You can discuss your finds with him. Good fortune, young Captain.”
Jorre sat up quickly to respond to the comm, excitedly discussing his salvage with Captain Liston. The old captain was a savvy negotiator and quickly realized that Jorre couldn’t deliver the two destroyer sections with his small tug. But rather than take advantage of the situation, the freighter captain made a fair offer for the salvage on-site in the debris field. It was less than Jorre would have earned had he transported his salvage to the smelting station located 50K kilometers outward of Idona, but, under the circumstances, it was a generous offer. Of course, uppermost in the freighter captain’s mind after learning of the opportunity from the Haraken SADE were her stern words, “I like this boy, Captain. Are we understood?”
Captain Liston did have some final words for Jorre. “Understand, young man, this offer depends on you having rights to those two sections when I arrive. That means you and only you and your tug are standing by those two sections. Do we have an agreement?”
Jorre readily agreed, even though he had no way of figuring out how to do that. The first of the large hauler-tugs that would arrive was captained by the notorious Tarek, a man known for intimidating salvagers into giving up their claims to him for small finder’s fees. There was no asteroid field in which to hide his finds, and Jorre knew his tug and the two destroyer sections were already on Tarek’s screen.
A day later, Jorre watched Tarek’s gigantic tug slow as it approached him, and all thoughts of saving his prizes were gone.
“Well, Jorre boy, I thank you for guarding my bounty for me,” Tarek said over the comm. “I’ll just take a look at what we have here before I calculate your finder’s fee.”
“Captain Tarek, your claim to this salvage is refuted by the Homeward Bound, which was the first tug on-site.”
“Who is this?” Tarek demanded. Unfortunately, for Captain Tarek, the answer became self-evident. Two Haraken fighters sat in front of his bow’s windows, holding their positions, despite the forward velocity his tug still held. To Tarek, it appeared their deadly noses were pointing directly at his face. “Per … perhaps I was mistaken,” Tarek stammered, ordering his pilot to veer off and hoping the Harakens would allow him to leave unmolested.
As Jorre watched Tarek’s tug angle off, the two Haraken fighters holding pace with him, a huge grin slid across his face.
“Homeward Bound, this is Commander Cohen. We’ve been asked to keep you company until your salvage freighter arrives, if you don’t mind?”
“Never been so happy to have company in my life, Commander,” Jorre replied.
Franz smiled at the relief evident in the tug captain’s voice. This story would circulate quickly among the Harakens for its ironic similarities to the events eleven years ago when a Méridien SADE was rescued by a New Terran captain piloting his tug, the Outward Bound. This time a SADE was reciprocating by rescuing a young tug captain, piloting a ship, of all the names, the Homeward Bound.
When the freighter eventually sailed close, Jorre watched the pair of travelers wiggle briefly and disappear back to Idona, no engine flares or emissions whatsoever.
“Homeward Bound, this is the freighter Treasure Chest approaching your position, Captain Liston speaking. Son, I had no idea you had friends in such high places. I just lost the bet with my first mate that you’d hold onto your salvage.”
“Hello, Captain,” Jorre replied, “Yes … yes, it’s good to have friends.” When Jorre signed his contract with Liston, he headed back to Idona a happy young man with enough credits transferred into his station account to last him six more years without needing to retrieve a single salvage.
Once back aboard Idona, Jorre would spend a week crisscrossing the station looking for a unique gift. A discussion with an ex-rebel would send him deep into the inner ring and the station’s food banks, which were in full production. In a small bed of the banks, a dedicated horticulturist, a young dark-haired beauty by the name of Pauline, cultured her grandmother’s prizes, strikingly delicate and exotic orchids.
“You want one of my orchids as a gift for a woman? A girlfriend? A wife?” Pauline asked, taking the measure of the young captain.
“Neither, really,” Jorre replied, pretending to look over the orchids, but keeping the young woman in sight. Her smile was warm and inviting, and he had to work not to stare.
“So, do you often buy unusual gifts for women that you hardly know?”
Jorre knew he was being teased, but he didn’t care. “I do when they he
lp me land a salvage prize worth six years of income.”
“Well, such generosity should be rewarded. I think this one should please her.”
“How many credits do you want for it?” Jorre asked. He would pay any price, but being on his own since he was young had taught him to be prepared to negotiate at any time.
“A dinner at my choice of restaurant should suffice,” Pauline replied, adding a bright smile.
Later that day, a Haraken trooper wearing a huge grin entered Alex’s planning room. “Your pardon, Mr. President, but I was told that these required immediate attention. They’re a gift for Cordelia.”
Humans and SADEs turned to look at Cordelia, who smiled and said, “It’s nice to be appreciated.” She opened the top of the slender package as the trooper held it out to her, revealing delicate white orchids with fine pink and green lines that originated in the petals’ outer rims and flared and softened as they traveled to the flowers’ centers.
“And who is your admirer, Cordelia?” Renée asked eagerly.
A small handwritten note on paper, rare on the station, held the answer. “The captain of the Homeward Bound,” Cordelia replied.
“There’s mysterious symmetry in that I think,” Renée replied, leaning into Alex’s shoulder.
Cordelia kept Jorre’s message to herself, which said, “I owe you my thanks twice. Once for the salvage and twice for your gift; the search for your present led me to a wonderful woman, the grower of these orchids.”
Inside, Cordelia’s emotional algorithms were rising and cascading. You were in my care but for a moment, Captain, she thought. I wish you a safe journey and good fortune.
* * *
Knowing Admiral Portland would send his own version of the truth to his superiors, Alex chose to preempt the admiral with a communication of his own. He assembled others to support the call.
Woo’s lunch was interrupted and Chong’s sleep received the same intrusion by their comms officers, who apprised each of them of the Haraken president’s call. Chong was the last to join the conference, having hurriedly changed into fatigues rather than appear on cam in nightwear.