by James Palmer
Hamilton’s cochlear implant chimed.
“We’re leaving now.”
Hamilton nodded, then realized it was Leda speaking, not Drizda.
“Leda?” he whispered.
“I wanted to thank you for bringing me here, and coming up with this plan.”
“Thank Sigma Prime. It was her idea.”
Silence. Then, “Stay safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully with some major firepower.”
“I’ll be here,” said Hamilton. “I’ll try to save some Ix for you to unload on.”
Faint laughter. “Sounds good. Thanks, Captain.”
“Be well, Commander,” said Hamilton. He dare not risk saying anymore lest his voice crack. Fortunately, the tightbeam channel was disconnected from the other end.
“Archive A is leaving the system,” said Hudson.
“Understood. Proceed to coordinates.”
They had been ordered to regroup with another fleet remnant and a squadron of very eager Draconi warships in the Ran system to receive what everyone in the fleet knew would be their final orders.
The ships of the united human, Draconi, and now Progenitor fleet moved in a wave toward the Q-gate. Hamilton admired the remaining Draconi ships under his command. They had already lost so much, and were reportedly close to losing their homeworld. That there were at least a few of them here fighting with the Solar Navy was a testament to their resolve to survive.
The viewer flickered, another signal overriding it to replace the scene of shifting vessels, with Admiral Lang’s gruff, diamond hard visage. “Do you have a problem receiving my orders, Captain? Where the hell’s that Archive going?”
“My first officer is dying,” said Hamilton evenly. “She is aboard the Archive to—”
“Dammit, soldier!” Lang snapped. “They’re going off after that Progenitor doodad. I told you it was a wild goose chase! We need that Archive’s firepower.”
“We have seven more where that one came from,” Hamilton countered. “All controlled from the deck of this ship.”
Lang scowled at him for a few seconds. “When this is over, you and I are going to have a long conversation that will make you very uncomfortable.”
The viewer winked out. Hamilton stood and walked to the center of the command deck, his eyes falling briefly on each member of his crew. They returned his gaze, resolute. Each of them had faced danger and death with him a hundred times. They would do it one more time.
“This is it,” he said. The Ix don’t have us beat yet. Let’s hold them off as long as we can. Because hope is coming. I believe it. Drizda believes it. And Commander Niles believes it. She’s willing to die for that belief. We have no right to do any less. Now, who’s ready to go and finish this thing?”
One by one, each person on the command deck said, “Aye.”
Hamilton nodded, a mixture of relief and fear washing over him.
Aboard the Archive, Leda sat cross-legged on the dais with her eyes squeezed shut. When she finally opened them, they glowed pale like pools of mercury.
To Be Continued…
About the Author
James Palmer is an award-nominated writer and editor of science fiction, pulp adventure, steampunk and more. He has written articles, interviews, columns and reviews for Strange Horizons, The Internet Review of Science Fiction, and Tangent Online. He is perhaps best known as co-creator and editor of the shared world alternate history giant monster anthology series Monster Earth.
A recovering comic book addict, James lives in Northeast Georgia with his wife and daughter. When not writing or reading space opera, he can be found blogging about writing, indie publishing and 80’s pop culture. For more examples of his work—and to sign up for his free mailing list—visit www.jamespalmerbooks.com.
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