by Joe Vasicek
“Yeah,” said Anya, a little absent mindedly. Her thoughts drifted to the simulation. Three gees. Painless death.
“…know if Ilya is up for this?” James was asking. “I wanted to—”
“I can get Ilya on board,” Anya said without thinking. “Just leave it to me.”
“Thank you,” he said again. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I’m glad to be on the team,” she said. “We’ll get your sister back.” Or die trying.
Not that it mattered.
* * * * *
Later that night, Anya sat on her bunk, filing her nails as she waited for Ilya to come. She had little doubt he would; he had never been one to turn down a night with her.
Sure enough, the door hissed open and he sauntered in, the characteristic smug expression written across his face. He’s so full of himself, she thought as she watched him step inside. One of the reasons she’d fallen for him.
He betrayed you, you know. Not that you didn’t deserve it.
“Hey, baby,” he said as the door hissed shut behind him. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” she said, focusing on her nails as if they were more interesting than him.
“Well?” he said, sitting down next to her. His arm snaked around her waist, making his intentions all too clear. She glanced up and narrowed her eyes at him.
Coward.
“I was talking with James a little while ago,” she said.
Ilya’s face fell. “Talking about what?”
“About things,” she said, pausing to admire her hands. “After this mission’s over, I just might retire and go home with him.”
Ilya’s cheeks turned red, much to her satisfaction.
“You’d leave me for that stupid kid? He’s just a boy.”
“He’s more of a man than you.”
Ilya cursed and rose to his feet. In his anger, he looked tough and dangerous—not at all like the weakling she’d found cowering in the maintenance corridor after the battle.
“I haven’t made a decision yet, though,” she said, rising up to face him. “I’ve got to admit, I kind of miss you.” She took him by the hips and pressed her body against his, smiling.
He angrily shrugged her off. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What the hell do you see in that guy?”
You’re worthless. Even he doesn’t want you.
Anya withdrew and stood back, giving him an obstinate look. “When the Hameji boarded us, James stood his ground and fought them. You turned tail and ran.”
“So? It was the Hameji—anyone in their right mind would have run.”
“Psh,” said Anya. “Say that to Artyom and the others who died.”
“Yeah, well, where were you? I didn’t see you in the corridors when the fighting got tough.”
He’s right, you know. You’re no better than him.
Anya folded her arms—she’d had enough. Time to get to the point.
“James and Danica are putting together a commando mission to rescue his sister. I’m already in as the pilot, but we could use a cyber-ops officer. If you want me so much, prove that you’re a man and join us.”
Ilya’s face turned white. “Did you see what the Hameji did to us the last time? To fight them again—that’s suicide!”
“Are you in or not?”
Ilya didn’t answer right away. He’s not going to go for it, the voice in Anya’s head told her. You’re not worth it to him. You never were.
“You’re not going to change your mind about this?” he asked.
“No.”
“For sure?”
“Yes.”
He turned away and slammed his fist angrily against the wall, making her jump.
“Please don’t make me do this,” he begged. “I’m not what you think I am.”
“Prove it.”
Several moments passed, in which neither of them said anything. Through the walls, Anya could hear the low throbbing of the ventilator fans. She shifted on her feet.
He’s not going to do it.
“There’s no other way around it?” Ilya asked. “Nothing else I can do to prove myself?”
“No. Not if you want me.”
He took a deep breath and turned towards her. Something about him seemed noticeably different. Instead of slouching, he held himself with confidence. His arms and legs were stiff and shaking, but they radiated strength instead of weakness. Gone was his characteristically smug smile, replaced by an expression of unabashed fear and seriousness that was a thousand times more honest.
“All right,” he said, “but if I’m in, we get together—now.”
She smiled. “Deal.”
They made love that night as if it were their first time—or perhaps their last. Anya knew that death was coming for her—death and oblivion—but the thought only spurred her on to greater heights of passion. And later, as she fell asleep with Ilya’s arms wrapped tightly around her, she smiled to herself. It felt good to not be alone.
Chapter 22
“Come in,” said Danica. The door hissed open and Vaclav stepped through, with James close behind. An unlikely pair, she mused, raising an eyebrow.
“Captain,” said Vaclav. He saluted; Danica returned his salute.
“Nicholson, McCoy. How may I be of service?”
Vaclav spoke first. “The Ensign tells me that you gave him orders to put together some kind of commando team for a raid on the Hameji fleet. Is that true?”
“No. Please explain.”
“I found him going behind your back recruiting crew members for this mission. I came to you as soon as he approached me.”
Danica frowned. She looked James squarely in the eyes, and his cheeks started to pale.
“Well,” she said to him, displeasure evident in her voice, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
“You told me I had a couple of days,” he said sheepishly.
“You approached my crew about this without my consent?”
“Well, uh, it was the only way to—”
“Do you realize I could charge you with mutiny?”
James bit his lip and hung his head. “Yes.”
“And still you did it?”
He clenched his fists and glanced up at her, determination written across his face. “I had to,” he said. “It was the only way to get my sister back.”
Danica stared at him for several moments in silence. A part of her wanted to scream at him—but when she met his eyes, all she could see was the face of her brother.
That only made what she had to do harder.
“Peter, Nicholas,” she said into her wrist console. “Come up to the bridge. Bring your stunners.”
“What?” James shouted. “What are you—no!” He tried to run out, but Vaclav knocked him down and pinned him to the floor.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Ensign,” Danica said, forcing out the words. “We’ll hold you in the brig only until we put into port. There, we’ll release you with fifty percent of the proceeds from the sale of your ship, as we agreed.”
“Fifty percent?” said Vaclav.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on this matter, Nicholson.” Vaclav stared at her as if she were crazy, but thankfully kept his comments to himself.
James squirmed under the flight lieutenant’s grasp. “You can’t do this to me!”
“On the contrary,” said Danica. “I can, and I am.”
“But—please! I already talked with Anya, and she—”
The door hissed open, and Peter and Nicholas stepped through, stunner prods in their hands. Danica nodded.
“Take the ensign to the brig,” she ordered. “He’s to remain there until I see fit to release him.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Vaclav stood up, and the two privates lifted James bodily to his feet.
“Try not to be too rough with him,” Danica added.
“Captain!” James shouted after her. Before he could say anything else, the sol
diers dragged him out the door.
* * * * *
Anya cracked open the sim unit and glanced down at her blinking wrist console. Sure enough, it was a summons to the bridge. She stretched, then rose to her feet, leaving the sim unit open behind her.
As she walked down the hallway, three men turned the corner ahead of her: Peter, Nicholas, and a third between them whose face she couldn’t quite see. Both privates carried stunners in their hands, and as they turned to let her pass, she recognized the one they were escorting.
It was James.
His eyes lit up immediately. “Anya?” he said. “Anya! Please, you have to help me—”
A prod from one of the stunners made him scream out in pain. The unexpected act of violence made Anya jump.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“We’re throwing the ensign in the brig,” said Peter. “Captain’s orders.”
Without another word, they marched off. James turned around to say something, but another prod from the stunner caught him before he could speak. He cried out in pain as the privates muscled him around the next corner.
What the hell is going on?
Danica was the only one on the bridge when Anya arrived. She sat in her command chair facing the starfield, staring at nothing at all.
“Captain,” said Anya, saluting.
“Sikorsky,” said Danica, still facing the starfield. “I need you to dock with the Catriona and set a course for Kardunash VII.”
Anya frowned. The only reason to take the Catriona to port was to sell it. A cold feeling grew in her stomach, and her palms started to feel sweaty.
“Kardunash VII?”
“Yes,” said Danica. “Kardunash VII.”
“What about the rescue mission?”
Danica sighed. “Did the ensign tell you I was putting together a commando team?”
“Yes.”
“He lied. I never gave any command of the sort.”
“Oh.”
Anya took her seat at the pilot’s chair, completely at a loss from the sudden turn of events. With a shaky hand, she activated her terminal and plugged in the coordinates for K-7. While the nav-comp ran the calculations for the jump, she gripped the joystick and made ready to dock with the Catriona.
“Are you sure about this, Captain?” she asked abruptly, surprising herself with the sound of her voice. “The Hameji transport is outfitted and ready to go. We don’t have to—”
“I gave you an order, Sikorsky. Do you have a problem with it?”
“No—but what’s going on? I don’t understand.”
Danica sighed. “Our contract with the boy is over. We’re selling his ship and taking half the proceeds from the sale. The rest go to him.”
“But Peter and Nicholas—”
“For security reasons, I found it necessary to hold the boy in the brig until we reach port. Don’t worry, Sikorsky—I’ll release him once we arrive.”
Anya swallowed. “So that’s it? No more mission?”
“Correct.”
Then it’s over, Anya thought to herself, a lump welling up in her throat. In only a couple of days, James would be gone, and life would return to the way it had always been—hopping from port to port, taking on this job or that, eating and sleeping and working with the same dozen or so people she’d lived with day in and day out for the last five years. And Ilya—she would be his girl again. After all, who else on the ship would have her? Except it wouldn’t be the same, because she knew his secret—she knew what he really was.
You’re worthless, the voices said. You don’t deserve a real man. Worthless, worthless.
The computer finished its calculations—all that remained was to dock with the Catriona and make the jump. With a growing feeling of numbness, she eased down on the joystick. The thrusters engaged, nudging them forward. Her finger hesitated above the keyboard, ready to start the docking sequence.
No, she told herself, taking a deep breath. I can’t.
Instead of docking with the Catriona, she commanded the computer to begin the docking sequence with the Hameji transport. At the same time, she activated the remote access for the captured ship. As the transport grew larger in the main window, she slaved the pilot’s station to her wrist console and brought up the Hameji transport’s weapon controls.
Here goes nothing.
“Captain,” she said, “I’m taking command of the Hameji transport. I want you to release Ensign McCoy and give us the supplies we need to complete our mission. If you don’t—”
“What?” Danica said, completely dumbstruck.
“If you don’t comply,” Anya continued, “I have all of the transport’s guns locked onto the Tajji Flame. Try to stop me, and I’ll blow up the ship.”
Danica slowly rose to her feet. “Anya,” she said, “what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”
Yes. Yes, I have.
“Don’t bother calling for Ilya,” she said. “He’s with us.”
“Would you really kill us all over this?” Danica asked.
Anya hesitated, but only for a moment.
“Yes, Captain. I would.”
For a long time, Danica said nothing. The expression on her face wasn’t one of fear or anger, but of hurt—deep, personal hurt. Anya didn’t know what to make of it.
“All right,” said Danica. She lifted her wrist and activated the intercom. “Peter, Nicholas, release the ensign from the brig.”
Anya’s hands trembled with nervous energy. With her hand on her wrist console like the trigger of a gun, she wondered if she looked as desperate as she felt. Probably, for the captain to give in so quickly.
“McCoy is on his way,” said Danica. “He’ll meet you at the airlock.” As if in answer, the distant groan of metal on metal sounded through the bulkheads as they docked.
“And supplies,” said Anya. “We’ll need supplies.”
“I’ll have Mikhail take care of it,” said Danica. She gave Anya a confused look, like a mother whose child was running away.
“Why are you doing this?”
“It’s—it’s nothing personal,” said Anya, realizing the full magnitude of her betrayal. “Nothing personal at all. I’ve—I’ve enjoyed working with you, Captain.”
Danica said nothing—she only stared.
“I’m sorry it came to this. I really am.”
“So am I, Lieutenant. So am I.”
Before Danica could do anything else to detain her, Anya turned on her heel and headed for the airlock.
* * * * *
“Hello, Captain,” said Abu Kariym as Danica entered the medical deck. “How may I help you?”
“I need to see Roman.”
“Ah, yes. Go right ahead—you know where he is.”
She found Roman sitting up in his bed, watching an old holovid. At the sound of the door, he turned his face to see who it was. His face slowly lit up as he recognized her.
“Welcome, Captain,” he said, his voice slurred.
“Roman,” she said, all but collapsing into the seat next to the wall. “I’m in trouble, and I need your help.”
Roman nodded. “What is it?”
“Anya and James have gone AWOL—Ilya too. They’re running away on the Hameji transport.”
“Why?”
Danica sighed in exasperation. “James went behind my back to put together a commando team. When I learned about it, I threw him in the brig, but Anya turned on me when she found out.” She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know why, but she and Ilya have agreed to help James on this suicide run. She’s got the Hameji transport slaved to her wrist console, and she threatened to blow up the ship if I didn’t let the three of them go.”
Roman said nothing for several moments. While she waited, Danica clasped her hands in her lap and struggled to bring her breathing under control.
“Does the crew know of this yet?”
“No—only Vaclav, but he doesn’t know about Anya.”
“Vaclav will not tal
k if you do not involve him. As for Anya, I do not think she will be opposed to you joining her.”
Danica frowned. “Joining her?”
Roman nodded, head barely moving. “Isn’t that what you want, Captain?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Well, maybe. I’d hate to let the ensign go without more backup, but this mission’s too dangerous. We’ve already lost half the crew, and—”
“Danica, they are volunteering. Can you not see?”
All I see is a mutiny, thought Danica—and it scared her like nothing else. In all her years as a captain, her own crew had never turned on her.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘volunteering,’“ she said. “I’d—”
“No, Captain,” said Roman. He coughed. “Think back. Why did you take the boy’s contract?”
“Because there was nothing else,” she said. “Because—”
“No, Danica. You decided to help him for same reason that I chose to join with you.”
Danica paused. “Why?”
“To help him become something greater. To save him from destroying himself. To stop running from your own demons and to face them.”
Danica thought back to the time when she’d first met Roman. It was on Belarius III, before the Hameji campaigns had begun. She’d recently washed out of a local militia and was looking to get into the private military business, mostly to fight against the Empire. Roman, one of her father’s former high-ranking NCOs, had been bouncing around from job to job. When she’d found him in one of the spaceport’s many cantinas, he was a complete and utter wreck.
“Is that why you joined up with me?” she asked. “To turn me into something?”
Roman laughed—a low, throaty chuckle that soon turned in a cough. “Yes,” he said. “And it worked, no?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “It did.”
“Then why do you hesitate? Go!”
Danica shook her head. “It’s not that easy, Roman. I have a crew to take care of—mouths to feed, people to pay.”
“But this mission does not require all of them—only a few. Can you not do it with Anya and Ilya both?”