Deviation

by A. J. Maguire

  He'd been stabbed. The blasted man had caught him right at the juncture between back plate and chest plate, the only known weakness in every combat vest.

  Two seconds.

  And Hedric was moving to do it again.

  The doors released.

  Hedric's black tinted boot knife swung straight for Matt's neck. It was arched at a precise angle and headed for his jugular. Matt glanced away, back toward where Chamberlain struggled to revive Reesa. The Fomorri was too intent on Reesa to know that he was about to lose his employer.

  It didn't really matter.

  Reesa's limp hand was what he focused on. Elegant. Perfect fingernails. Slender bones. He caught that image and held it. If he was going to die he wasn't going to let Hedric be the last thing he saw.

  He heard the doors open and then two shots rang out.

  The knife clattered to the ground.

  Reluctantly, Matt turned his attention back to his would-be killer.

  Hedric staggered to the left but kept his feet, one hand pressed tight against his chest. The man gave a wet choke and coughed, unfocused blue eyes moving to the outer doors.

  Myron stood there, his weapon still trained on his captain.

  Hedric's attention changed from blank shock to rage and the man made a stubborn attempt toward the door. His left foot dragged slow and awkward, smearing blood across the white floor. As the doors started to close Myron shot again. Hedric's head snapped backward and his body fell.

  Matt let go of a wheezy breath and fought to stay conscious. He had the distinct sensation of floating and time seemed to blur. Myron and Chamberlain dragged him into the quarantine room. The bustle of several doctors smeared in his vision as they rushed to aid.

  As he was hoisted onto a metal table beside Reesa, Matthew caught the sight of his dead brother on the floor.

  Mother was going to be very upset. That seemed irrational to Matt since David had never treated her very well, but she was a mother above all else.

  Three of the white coated doctors bypassed him to concentrate on Reesa, whose pallid color and blue-rimmed mouth only served to intensify his numbed state. He heard a hissing-whirring sound at his back where Chamberlain hadn't stopped working. A pleasantly warm sensation curled into his body, stemming out from the wound and dimming his attention further. Then Chamberlain tore open half of his pant leg, revealing the gash in his calf, and moved to mend that wound, too.

  Something jabbed him in the arm and a shock jolted through his body, thoroughly rousing him from the awkward state. Sounds came into focus first. He could hear the doctors working on Reesa as they gave clipped, urgent orders to one another. And then he heard a low, annoying alarm reverberating through the ship.

  Chamberlain was talking to him.

  "How are you functioning, Boss?"

  Matt shook his head, instinctively attempting to clear it. "Seventy percent and climbing," he said.

  Chamberlain grinned, relieved. "Newbill's clearing the rest of the bay. There were two more grenades set to blow if any doors moved."

  The buzzing alarm concerned him and Matt glanced at the doors. Charles Baine stood there, glancing frantically between Reesa and Matt and back again. Something else was going on. He frowned and tried to concentrate. What the hell else could be wrong?

  "Stab wound's pretty deep," Chamberlain said. "I wouldn't go jogging but you'll hold until the doctors can patch you proper."

  A horrifyingly long tube was shoved down Reesa's throat. Matt spotted it and looked away, struggling for the more clinical side of his psyche. He saw instead the video screen where two different slides were on display. While Matt was not a scientist, he had worked around them so long that he understood the basics. The view on the screen was undeniably easy to read.

  "Son of a bitch," he muttered and glanced down at his dead brother. "You son of a bitch, you did it."

  "Boss?"

  Matt slid to his feet and forced himself to think around the medications coursing through him. Chamberlain kept him upright for a moment as he paused to review his wife. She wasn't dead yet. The doctors were still flying through some procedure and he felt torn between staying to watch and facing whatever trouble Baine had to tell him. But in the end he recognized the low alarm still humming through the ship and realized that Celeocia Prosser, High Priestess of the Novo Femina, had her own stakes in this situation.

  Stakes she had willingly sacrificed her own son for.

  "I want all of my brother's research copied into a portable device for Mr. Degenes." Matt glanced at Myron. The man looked remarkably well, if a bit shaken.

  Matt turned away from Reesa and the quarantine room and limped to the doors. It felt as though there was a void where his side should be, like if he reached for it all he would feel was air, but he managed to keep himself from falling as he headed out of the medical unit.

  "Mr. Degenes," he said as they waited for the decompression chamber.

  "Yes, sir?" Myron said behind him.

  "I'll have all data from the Lothogy transferred to the Io. The race is for Kate now so you're going to have to be fast. The Femina want her and are not going to give her up without a fight."

  "So what's the plan?"

  "We distract. You run."

  "Right ... " Myron paused. "Does the Io have underwater systems?"

  "Untested, but yes."

  "Glorious."

  The doors opened.

  "And Mr. Degenes," Matt spoke as he limped out of the chamber. "You will be carrying the cure to the Mavirus Carcinoma. Attempt to stay alive."

  Myron's feet scuffed against the floor. "Holy shit."

  Matt took a careful breath and faced Charles. "Report."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "High Priestess, I feel it is my duty to remind you that our vessels have not been tested out of atmosphere."

  Eanmar's blunt statement forced Celeocia to look away from the communications screen. Her personal assistant stood poised at the command center's entrance, hands clasped before her and distorted face almost impassive. Her one green eye, however, flickered with determination.

  For a moment, Celeocia was proud of the woman.

  "It is a risk we must take," Celeocia said.

  "No. It is risk you want to take. It is not unavoidable." Eanmar did not move from her position. She did not even gesture to emphasize her point. "We are not prepared for this battle. If we strike now we will die. Many of the Femina will be punished for our actions and the Community will forever ban women from organizing again. I must ask you to stop."

  Celeocia turned to face her more fully. Never once in her career as High Priestess had she ever been challenged. She'd expected it on any number of occasions, but certainly not from Eanmar.

  The other women in the room stopped to listen to the confrontation. She almost ordered the place cleared, but knew she couldn't do that. The command center required that various persons be stations to oversee all of the Citadel's life supporting functions. Besides which, she'd been challenged in public and had to diffuse the situation in the same manner.

  "Tell me, Eanmar, in all your wisdom, what we should do when the Community Ambassador arrives." Celeocia nodded to the communication screen. "He should be here in an hour. Without Kate, we have nothing to support out claims."

  "Our claims were false to begin with. Kate does not represent forgiveness from God. She is merely a woman displaced in time. And if she is here when the Ambassador arrives she would undoubtedly tell him such." Eanmar shook her head. "The only thing we have is proof of time travel. That is what we can give the Community."

  Celeocia frowned. The Community would certainly find the information worthy of note, but then the Femina would be pinned as liars. Their credibility would be gone and they would still be reprimanded, albeit less than if they tried open warfare.

  No, she thought. Handing over that information would only lead the Community to ask more bothersome questions. All of their secrets would come out. The Community would see tha
t they had been preparing for war all along. It would still result in the deaths of many women, only instead of fighting to be heard, they would be rounded up and executed.

  "You are wrong, Eanmar. The Community would not look kindly on us for harboring such knowledge. We must make our stand here."

  "And if the vessels do not work?"

  "They will work." Celeocia turned back to the screen. When Eanmar made no further argument, she ordered; "Open communications with the Balor."

  ***

  "Sir, the Citadel is opening Comms with us."

  "Then I suggest you let them speak," Matt frowned down at the screen in front of him. He found that the low-buzzing alarm still thrumming through the ship was a system wide alert to being targeted. "Are you sure this is right?"

  He turned to Baine, who nodded once, quickly, and glanced at the view screen.

  "Well that's interesting," he said just before Celeocia's face flashed onto the screen. "High Priestess."

  "Mr. Borden." She almost looked calm.

  Almost.

  There was an odd ticking at the corner of her left eye that told him of her real distress. He smiled and locked down on his own emotions. While he was accustomed to bluffing, Matthew knew that the Priestess' own anxiety was going to work against them all. The last thing anyone wanted was an open fight in space. It was dangerous to the point of suicide.

  Generally speaking, there had only been a handful of stellar battles since the invention of space travel and all of them included smaller, Fomorri class vessels. One-manned ships, never command class ships like the Balor and Citadel. Matt squared his shoulders and forced the numbers out of his mind. He couldn't think about the two-hundred thousand people on board the Balor, or the one woman struggling to survive in the quarantine room. He couldn't think about Myron or Kate or the remnants of his Fomorri preparing for battle. He had to concentrate only on the ticking in the Priestess' eye.

  And for god's sake, he had to keep the woman calm.

  "I would ask for pleasantries, Priestess, but given that your Femina opened fire on me and mine down on the planet, well ... I have to assume we're quite beyond that." He saw the alarm blink red up at him and tried to calculate just how much fire power the woman had at her disposal.

  "You are harboring a Novo Femina by the name of Kate Woodson," Celeocia scowled at him. "You are to return her immediately."

  "I have no Femina on board my ship," Matt said. Which was true, actually. By now Kate was likely sequestered on the Io with Myron at the helm. He couldn't help it, he flinched a little at the idea that he would never see the Io again.

  "Captain, three fighter class vessels have just entered orbit," Charles reported. His voice held no small amount of panic as he looked up at him. "They're Makeem."

  From bad to worse, Matt thought.

  He looked back to Celeocia's image. The woman appeared just as alarmed as he felt. While Matt hadn't intended to pick a side in the religious war - still didn't intend to, actually - the Makeem were no doubt going to require some form of action on his part. And both sides of the religious fanaticism present before him were more than willing to kill.

  For a tense, breathless moment time seemed to stand still.

  Then a new communication line was opened.

  "This is General Archibald Erid of the Makeem Loyalists. I demand to speak with Doctor David Borden at once."

  Matt found it highly amusing that Erid refused to show an onscreen image. Only the man's nasally voice could be heard through the communications array.

  He considered lying to the man, but that didn't seem the best tactic. For one, the Makeem really were an obnoxiously powerful group. And for another, David's death wasn't even his fault.

  "Regrettably, Doctor Borden died just a few minutes ago. Captain Prosser killed him. We have it on video if you would like to see it," Matt said.

  "Where is Captain Prosser now?"

  "Also dead. It's a fantastic mess over here," Matt said, "But I'm sure we'll manage."

  "What?" Celeocia said with a gasp.

  "My apologies, High Priestess. I'm afraid he tried to steal something of mine."

  He glanced down at the controls. Bright white text stood out against the milky black screen, telling him that everyone was in position.

  "Sir. The Lothogy is making an unscheduled departure," Charles said quickly.

  There was so much stress in the man's voice that he actually sounded sincere.

  "The females?" Matt asked.

  "Gone, sir."

  The Lothogy detached and hell literally broke loose.

  The Makeem, who undoubtedly had been listening to the open communication, veered for the Lothogy. Several ships from the Citadel turned their pursuit as well. Matt nodded to Baine, who gave the order for all Fomorri and Borden ships to engage the Lothogy. He wanted the attention on former Captain Hedric Prosser's lame ship.

  Communication with Celeocia was severed and the command deck switched to combat.

  "Well played, Mr. Baine," Matt said as he stepped into the center of the room again.

  He had to shrug off the initial memory of losing Blake Knox, and focused on the zips and turns of every little holographic ship before him. With any luck, Romberg would be able to pilot the Lothogy with half as much brilliance as Myron Degenes.

  To his surprise, several fighter class ships spewed out of the Citadel's hologram.

  "Where the hell did she get those?" He voiced.

  Several of the little red holograms immediately went slack as they entered the battlefield, but they hadn't been shot. A few others actually exploded. It was as if they were flying experimental vessels en masse.

  The High Priestess had to be out of her mind.

  Some of the ships managed to survive the initial entrance into space and began to fly toward the Lothogy. The Makeem ships, on the other hand, were already opening fire.

  "Fom One," Matt took command.

  "This is Fom One," Chamberlain's voice made a hollow sort of echo into the room.

  "Keep the Makeem off the Lothogy but don't make it obvious."

  "Roger that."

  "Fom Two."

  "This is Fom Two," Newbill's voice now.

  "Hang back for stragglers. I don't want anyone to notice the Io."

  "Gotchya."

  Frowning, Matt glared at the holograms surrounding him and held his breath. He saw the Lothogy swing away from the Balor, saw Chamberlain's quick approach from the left as Makeem vessels zeroed in on Romberg. It might have disturbed him a little that the Makeem hadn't bothered with any further communications, but as the command deck lit up with weapon fire he simply didn't have the time to dwell. The Femina moved to intercept, buying into the deception without hesitation.

  Matt wondered if Celeocia's robotics would overload when she discovered that her precious Femina were protecting Romberg, not Kate. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he wished that he could be there when she found out.

  The first Makeem ship took three direct hits. Matt heard the report as the hologram went suddenly slack, drifting rather than flying. It looked, he thought with a pang of guilt, like Mesa's ship had when they'd caught up to her. He remembered his own orders, clear and cold, telling the Fomorri to push her vessel into Jupiter's atmosphere. Without the proper magnetic shielding the ship had burnt up in the descent, ship and woman torn apart with the velocity.

  Mesa's death seemed pointless now. At the time, he'd only been thinking of the company. Her life versus the billions of lives his family controlled. And truthfully, he'd been more angry at his brother than anything else. But killing David had been out of the question. Now, with David dead, Mesa dead, and most of Hedric's men dead, he had the freedom to bury his brother's actions from the galaxy.

  And for inexplicable reasons, he suddenly didn't want to.

  "The Io is making its run," Charles said.

  Matt forced himself to refocus.

  Many Femina ships drifted, out of the fight and littering space, bu
t there were four more and the remaining Makeem to contend with. Chamberlain engaged both parties and the laboring Lothogy kept pushing toward Mars. Then the Citadel itself moved to intercept, trying to block Romberg from the planet.

  "Desperate much?" Matt muttered to himself and checked on the hologram of the Io.

  Myron had made it to the wormhole. It was just a matter of minutes until they were safe and away.

  One of the Makeem vessels spotted the Io and turned toward it. Newbill took immediate action, firing until the Makeem had to evade. Matt bunched his fist, watching as the two holograms spun through the command deck. They were getting dangerously close to the wormhole entrance.

  General Erid's voice crackled into the room again; "Disengage, Mr. Borden. This is not your fight."

  "Yes and no, actually." Matt said, flinching as Newbill was forced into an evasive turn that brought him inches from the wormhole. "I'd love to sit back and let you both kill each other, but that is my ship out there. It represents a substantial amount of money and effort and I'll have it back in one piece if I can."

  "The Makeem will repay you. There is a threat on one or both of these vessels and we mean to extinguish it."

  "Threat?"

  "To mankind itself."

  It wasn't so much the words, but the way he said it, Matt thought. The man fervently believed that he was protecting the human race by killing off all traces of Kate. Matt felt the hair on the back of his neck go stiff. Undoubtedly, Erid would feel the same way about Reesa.

  Without a word, Matt signaled to Charles and the communication was severed.

  "Chamberlain. Romberg." He glared at the battle around him. "Bait and hook, gentlemen. Let the Citadel have its prize."

  The cockpit of the Lothogy exploded, debris shoving out and away as a single Life Support System engaged. The little L.S.S. appeared like a flashing white light amid the red and blue holograms. Matt flinched at the sight of it. While it was meant to save lives, every pilot and crewmember understood that the small, metal-meshed-plastic bubble was far from safe.

  The flashing white dot normally meant that someone was seriously screwed. But then Chamberlain swooped in, snagged Romberg's L.S.S. and immediately had to evade the Makeem. Matt tensed as Chamberlain nearly collided with an oncoming Femina vessel and then let out his breath.