Ensign Gi was lying in a bed three cots from the door. The right side of her face was covered by a bandage. A brace encased her right arm. She was clumsily tapping away at a personal reader with frustrated jabs from her left hand, but when she looked up and saw Jacob she smiled. “Hey, Hull! Glad to see you down here.”
Jacob simply nodded, trying to ignore the spike of guilt at her injuries. “How are you holding up?”
Gi opened her mouth, but Mensah answered instead. “Ensign Gi is doing quite well, considering the circumstances. She was near the navigational computers when the area was hit.” The medic shrugged. “Had the automatic safeties not sealed the area off quickly enough, she could have been sucked out into space, or died of asphyxiation. As it is, she has a broken arm and a few cuts from shrapnel.”
The Reactor ensign glared at the medic. “Thanks, Mensah. I’m glad you could help me relive that experience.” She turned back to Jacob and frowned. “What brings you down here?”
Jacob smiled. “Sorry to bring bad news, but I’m putting you in charge of Engineering. Turley’ll run things until you get back on your feet.”
Gi nodded and sighed. “I figured that would happen. Better than leaving Caddamar in charge.” She motioned to the reader she held. “I’ve been trying to organize things from here. I heard about the star chart problem, so I tried to get some techs up to look at the signal drones to see if we could pull anything off of them.”
Blinking in surprise, Jacob nodded. “Did we get anything?”
She shook her head again. “Sorry, Hull. I have them keep trying looking for more, but Leary was the best at data retrieval and he…” Her voice trailed off, and a stab of guilt once again went through him.
“It’s enough, Gi. Just get some rest, all right? Let Mensah and his staff take care of you.” She nodded, lying back on the cot with tears in her eyes, and Jacob turned to the next cot. There, a petty officer from the Helm crew who had broken his leg trying to get to the bridge during the battle scowled up at him.
He knew he should leave, but something kept Jacob anchored there. One by one, Jacob went through the medical suite, checking on each of the wounded. Some, like Gi, had only superficial wounds from shrapnel or hard hits during the maneuvers. Others, like Ensign Carver in the last cot, were in more critical condition.
Leary Carver had been much closer to where the shell had hit, and had taken much more damage. Bandages swathed the entire lower half of his body, and patches of other bandages covered a decent fraction of his upper torso. His right arm was no longer there; it ended just above the elbow in a bandaged stump. Jacob paused by the ensign’s cot for a long moment, hoping the man would open his eyes, but Carver remained unconscious.
Mensah leaned in close as Jacob turned away. “Ensign Leary Carver will eventually recover, but it will be a long time. He was only a few meters from where the shell hit, but he was fortunate a structural support was between him and the blast. Otherwise, he would not have survived.”
Jacob nodded absently. His mind was occupied by the image of Carver laughing and joking with others of the Engineering crew. “Do we have the medical supplies you need?”
The medic nodded. “We do. There is still plenty of nema gel for antiseptic and basic wound treatment. We also have plenty of casts, splints and blood plasma. Our medical equipment was properly stored, so it was not damaged in the fighting.”
“Good. Let me know if anything changes.” Mensah nodded again. As Jacob turned to go, he felt the medic’s hand land on his shoulder. “Ensign, if I could speak with you.”
Jacob turned and followed Mensah to the small, cramped offce at the back of the suite. The medic shut the door behind them and sat down, motioning for Jacob to do the same.
For a long moment, Mensah simply studied Jacob. Then, in a careful voice, the ensign spoke. “How are you holding up, Jacob?”
The question surprised Jacob, and suddenly he was holding onto his composure by a thread. Struggling to force the wave of feelings back down, he shook his head. “As well as can be expected, I guess. How are you?”
“I didn’t lead a ship into battle yesterday, then come down and look the results in the face.” The sound of rebuke, surprisingly, landed more heavily on the second half of the sentence rather than the first. Jacob looked questioningly at the medic, who sighed and leaned back slightly.
“You didn’t need to come down here, you know. Just reading the reports I sent you would have given you the information you needed.”
“I know.”
“Then why come at all? To look good for the crew? To make sure everyone knows you care?” Mensah waited, watching Jacob closely for an answer.
Jacob simply shook his head. “I don’t know why. I just needed to come. To remind myself.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know.” The last word came out harshly, surprising him with the force behind it. “I just did, okay? Is that good enough an answer, Ensign Mensah?”
Mensah caught hold of Jacob’s arm as he stood, holding him in place for a moment. “Wait one moment, Ensign Hull.” Jacob glared at the medic before settling back in his seat. When Mensah spoke, his voice was still radiating calm. “One of the hardest aspects of my assignment as medical officer is that occasionally, no matter how well I do, we lose people.” The medical officer looked away, his normally implacable eyes now disturbed by an unreadable emotion. “It is something I still find it difficult to deal with.”
Jacob nodded slowly. He dropped his eyes to the floor. “I… understand Mensah. I am as fine as I’m going to be.” He brought his eyes up to find Mensah watching him again. In spite of the feelings raging inside him, he gave the medic a halfhearted smile. “That’s the best I can do.”
The medical officer returned Jacob’s nod. “If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here.”
Jacob waited a moment longer until the medic’s hand fell away. Then he walked out of the office, past the rows of wounded and into the corridor beyond. He had at least one more place to visit.
Ashford found him near the rear of the storage unit, where their fallen comrades were being kept. Each dead soldier and crewman was sealed inside a coffin with the air pumped out, leaving the bodies in a state of suspension until the Wolfhound could reach a planet or station. Stacked in the middle of the storage units, shoved towards the back, there were enough of them to accommodate half the crew if such a thing were ever needed. After Jacob had informed Ensign Timmitz of his new post, he found himself drawn here as well.
Eleven people out of the destroyer’s crew of two hundred and fifty seven. Most had been killed by the pirate’s initial bombing attack, while others had died during the following combat. The pirates who died on the bridge were not there; none of the crew had been able to stand keeping them alongside their dead. The bodies of Schroder, Morris and the others now floated out with the corpses of the rest of the pirates, preserved in the vacuum of space.
Can I really pull this off, Rodgers? Did you really want me to take command, or is it just me imagining it? Could a better man have kept more alive? Jacob stared at the coffin that held the commander’s remains, fatigue and pain welling up in him. So many had already died, and they were still far from safety.
The Marine sergeant cleared his throat, and Jacob turned his attention to him at last. He caught a curious glint in the other man’s eyes as the soldier moved towards him. “Asking help from the dead, ensign? We’ll probably need it.”
“What is it, Ashford? More discipline problems?”
The Marine snorted. “No, I’ve taken care of those. You won’t have to worry about that at all.” He held out a reader, which glowed in the dark of the storage hold. “Turley from Engineering wanted to give you this. He thought you’d be interested.”
Jacob took the reader from the Marine and turned it so that he could read the contents. “Why didn’t he come give it to me directly, then?”
“Because, and I quote, he didn’t ‘have the damn time to track y
ou down wherever the hell you were.’ Like I do.” Ashford grunted and made as if to turn away, but then he stopped, as if held there by the silent watch of the dead in their coffins.
With a weary eye, Jacob read over the report. Much of it was full of things that he already knew. The signal drones were still useless no matter what they did. There was no hope of repairing the computers or salvaging the data yet. Then Turley began to report on the engineers who had installed the signal drone launchers and the officer’s mess. “Oh hell.”
Ashford perked up. “What?”
Jacob glanced up at him and then looked back down at the reader. “The engineers who probably rigged the bombs are all from Rigannin.” The Marine went still, and Jacob could almost hear the gears grinding as Ashford thought it over.
“Separatists.”
“Looks like. Even worse, the ships that attacked us were Telosian pirates. That means the two groups have struck some sort of deal. Maybe the Telosians help the separatists in exchange for a brand new Celostian destroyer?”
The Marine’s head bowed. “From what I’ve heard, a destroyer would be a good catch for a Telosian group. I’ve only heard of one or two ships of that class shipping from Telos, so getting one would automatically boost the power of whichever clan got hold of it. Are we sure they were Telosians, though?”
Jacob nodded. “I recognized the badge they wore on their uniforms. All the Telosians wear it when they're on a raid.” A ribbon of hatred wormed its way through him, but he shook it off. “It symbolizes the division between them and the rest of the universe and the divine retribution they bring on those who don’t recognize their superiority and pay tribute. I’m sure. They were Telosians.”
“Even worse, when I was on the bridge, I heard the pirates talking.” Jacob paused. “They had a second target on the ship. Someone they were going to hold hostage. That means someone here is important enough for the pirates to risk coming after us again.”
Ashford tilted his head, studying Jacob for a moment. “Sounds like a tidy little net. What the hell are we going to do about getting out of it?”
Switching off the reader, Jacob shook his head. “I don’t know. We’re cut off from the fleet, and the information isn’t going to help us get home any faster. There’s a wrecked asteroid mine that was going to be used for a practice ambush. It should be a good hiding place for us until the fleet comes looking.”
With a snort, Ashford shook his head. “I’d prefer jumping there right now if it would get us to safety faster. I suppose the damn mine isn’t perfect though, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” The voice surprised Jacob, and he turned to see Ensign Taylor walking up, his face lit by the lights of the coffins. “Telosians will come to check up on the fleet when it doesn’t report in. They’ll be sure to search the area, including the mine.”
Jacob gave Taylor a wary look. “How do you know they won’t think we’ve riftjumped? After all, it will be clear that we won the fight.”
The Gunnery ensign shook his head. “Because they’d have heard about it. They must be well connected enough to know whether or not we had returned from their ambush. Otherwise, how could they have prepared this trap in the first place?”
Ashford shrugged. “Damn. He’s got a point, Hull. Looks like if they come it'll be a fight no matter what we do.”
“That’s why the gun crews need to be practicing, Ashford.” He locked eyes with Taylor as the ensign opened his mouth to disagree, and shook his head slightly. “Could you make sure they have started preparations? I need to coordinate the drills with Ensign Taylor.”
The Marine sergeant glanced from Jacob to Taylor and back. Face blank, he nodded. “All right. Sure.” Ashford paused before he turned to go and gave Jacob a challenging glare. “Just don’t take too long. I have a few discipline cases you’re going to review. And approve if you know what’s damn well good for you.”
“Of course, Ashford.” Jacob didn’t take his eyes off Taylor, who had started to look uncertain as the Marine left. Ashford did not go quietly by any means. His mutters drifted back to the two ensigns as his footsteps retreated back towards the corridor.
“Damn fool ensigns. I’m sure we’re all going to end up dead anyway, so what does a little disagreement matter…”
As Ashford’s words faded away, and the hiss of a hatch closed off the sound completely, Jacob was left alone with Taylor once more. The silence between them thickened and stretched, but Jacob found himself unwilling to speak first. Let him start the conversation, and then we’ll go from there.
Finally, Taylor spoke. “So, you put Ashford in charge of discipline? It appears you are able to make some good decisions.”
“I’m glad you approve.” Jacob tilted his head slightly. “Go ahead and say what’s on your mind, Taylor.”
The Gunnery officer raised his eyebrows for a moment before he continued. “Jacob, I respect what you are trying to do here, but you can’t take this ship into battle again. You have to promise me, if the pirates offer terms, any terms, you have to surrender the ship and whatever else they ask for to preserve the lives of the crew.”
Jacob sighed quietly. “No Taylor. I’m afraid I won’t do that.” He held up a hand as Taylor opened his mouth. “Let me finish, please.”
To his weary gratitude, Taylor hesitated and then nodded in response. Jacob continued. “You may not have been aware of this, but before I managed to catch Morris and the others by surprise, I heard a conversation between them about their goals. About the targets they intended to keep.” The fact that the word ‘targets’ had been plural did not escape Taylor, and Jacob was rewarded with a hiss of indrawn breath from the other officer.
Jacob shook his head. “The pirates wanted to do more than take the ship. They wanted to capture a particular person aboard the Wolfhound. They probably meant to use this person as a hostage.” He looked back at the rows of coffins. “They killed for that chance, and we stopped them. I believe, however, that the person they meant to capture is still alive. I wonder how he is doing, and if he knows how close a call that battle was.”
When Taylor spoke again, his voice was no longer combative. “I am sure he does. I am just as sure that the person they meant to take captive feels responsible for the attack. Why not allow that person to offer themselves as a hostage to guarantee the safety of the ship if the chance comes?”
The question drew Jacob’s attention back to Taylor’s face. “Because the pirates would never be satisfied with that kind of sacrifice. We’ve killed their brothers in plunder, and when they come for us, they’ll come for blood. The person they meant to take would not be enough to stop that.” He paused. “Why doesn’t the person come forward and explain why he is so important? It is not like the crew would blame him.”
“Perhaps some would not.” Taylor shook his head. “Some would. At the same time, the person who is among the crew likely made a promise to keep his identity hidden. A man’s word is his bond.” The phrase, though simple, had the iron force of a family motto, and Jacob smiled as he heard in the words echoes of sayings his own father had given him.
“Then I am sure that person would understand my decisions as well.” Jacob let his smile fade as Taylor looked up sharply. “I gave my word to Rodgers, Taylor. I promised to get us home. More than that, I promised my parents before they died that I would become the best officer I could be. Neither promise will allow me to surrender this ship to the Telosians. Not until every hope is gone.” He paused. “Would you help me keep my word?”
The question hung in the air for a long moment. Then, slowly, Taylor nodded. “I will.”
“Good.” Jacob turned his gaze back to Rodger’s coffin. “Get the gun crews ready. We may have a fight on our hands soon, and I want to be ready.”
“Yes, Ensign Hull. They will be.” Taylor turned and followed the same path Ashford had, but before he had gone far, Jacob spoke one last time.
“Taylor.” The Gunnery ensign stopped. “The pirates are responsi
ble for the attack. All we can be responsible for is their defeat the next time they try.” Jacob saw Taylor nod, and then the other officer had gone. Once again, Jacob was alone with his thoughts and the dead, wishing he could believe his own advice just as easily.
Chapter Twelve
The next day began, as each day seemed destined to, with someone pounding on Jacob’s door.
At the very least the door was not the one to his quarters. He had managed to sneak up to Commander Rodgers’ former office without disturbance that morning and had been busily working on a training regimen for the crew. The pounding on his door interrupted his thoughts and Jacob felt a dim sense of horrified déjà vu as he walked over to pull it open.
“Jacob! You miss me?” The sight of Isaac’s smirking face had never been more beautiful. Jacob smiled in relief and waved his friend inside.
“Actually, I was just wondering if my new command was intimidating you into staying away. All that authority and bearing and all.”
Isaac snorted and rolled his eyes. “Right. Let me know when you find where the last guy left it.” He peered around the commander’s office. “So, how are things? Taylor or Ashford causing you any trouble?”
“At first yeah, but now I think things are fine.” Jacob shrugged as he closed the door. “I’ve managed to convince them to hold off for now, but if something else goes wrong we’re probably going to have problems again.”
Isaac nodded solemnly and took a seat. “Well, Jacob, I just thought I'd come by and remind you that not everyone is out to get you. Laurie and me think you’re doing great, and a few other crew members are leaning that direction as well All you need is a little more help.”
Jacob only answered with a grunt. He crossed the floor to take his own seat at the desk. “I appreciate that, Isaac. It helps to know I still have some friends left.” He paused. “Has Taylor started the gun crews on their drills yet?”
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