“Boss, how can you know…”
“I just do! Stop asking me questions.” She stood abruptly. Valen watched her pace the small room.
Finally, he asked. “It’s not just about Veradin, is it, Commander? Atilio meant something more to you.”
Sela stopped mid-stride and turned to him. “You see so much, don’t you?”
He shifted on the mattress. “All this and brains too.” He smiled wistfully.
“Atilio was my son.” It was strange to hear those words aloud. A secret given freedom in such an unlikely place.
His eyes widened. “Glory all.”
“I’ve never told anyone. Not even Atilio. Not Veradin. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve ever told.”
“But, you should have reported…”
Tyron grimaced, shaking her head, as if to say: does that matter anymore? Here and now?
“They never meant for us to come back, did they?” Valen said after a pensive silence. “I got back to my rack and it’d already been reassigned to some booter.”
Sela imagined the fearful expression on some newly minted soldier’s face to see Valen towering over him like a resurrected giant from a fable.
“They meant for us to die there, Valen.” Tyron sat back down beside him. “We were expendable.”
“But Decca—”
“First doesn’t play by those rules. They never have.” She would not shelter him from the truth. That was not her way.
It was his turn to pace.
“I’m with you, Commander,” he said quietly.
Sela looked up at him and offered a grim smile. Valen had always been there, it seemed. He was bedrock, firm footing. A constant in her life for how many years now?
“I’ve never doubted that, Sergeant. But this isn’t your fight.”
“You can’t do this. You can’t just tell me the lay of it and leave me out. What are you doing, Sela?”
She nodded. “I have to get the captain off the Storm King.”
“You have lost your mind.” Valen muttered, running a hand over his face.
“I need to get him on a craft, something they won’t miss like a runner or—
“It’s treason.”
“I know. But I’ve never been surer of anything. The captain is innocent. Trinculo doesn’t care about that. He wouldn’t listen to me. He said he’d arrest me too if I didn’t let it go.”
Valen knelt before her. His enormous hands swallowed hers. “Okay, boss. Say you do that. You get Veradin off the ‘King. Then what? Trinculo finds out what you did. And then you’re the one that’s dead. Is that what you want? ‘Cause I don’t.”
“If it comes to that.” She looked down and gently pulled her hands from his. “Yes.”
“No crester would do that for a breeder.”
“He would. The captain would. He’s the only reason the Storm King stayed in orbit, the only reason they extracted us.”
“I know,” he said. “But treason?”
“It’s not treason. It’s a rescue.”
Valen rose. He extended a hand to her, palm up, inviting. “I know a flight tech that will help us.”
“Us?” she asked. “No, Valen. I can’t let you do this. Like you said, once Trinculo figures this out, he won’t just stop with me.”
She trusted Valen with her life. But she could not allow him to follow her down this suicidal path.
Yet, when she would not take his hand, he pulled her to her feet as if she weighted nothing.
“Some things you just don’t have a say in.”
7
The Cassandra class vessel Valen had found in the impound bay was one of the ugliest things to be brought into service by Fleet, in Sela’s opinion. It was a relic by time she was a booter. But it was perfect.
Fleet did not make ships like this anymore and with good reason. It was a cesium fuel hog: a design flaw. It was the smallest vessel in Fleet to be fitted with velo drives, making it able to use flex points like a carrier.
Two enormous cesium tanks ran the length of the ship. And, like an afterthought, everything else was crammed in the spaces between: hab, galley, cargo hold. The command loft was situated in the center, where it was well-shielded from assault above and below. Sela had trained on models with similar internal layouts, but with less bulky hulls covered by active charge plating.
This Cassandra had seen better years. If she were one to dwell on such things, it could have been a sadness to see a mighty ship cast off like this. It had been relegated to a life of questionable service. As in the case of all obsolete vessels, once a ship was stripped of useful tech the Regime sold it to friendlies. This one had found its way into the ownership of a blockade runner. As a result, the Cassandra had non-reg engine mods and a list of problems as long as Sela’s arm.
Although imperfect, the Cassandra was their only option. Taking a Fleet runner or even a stryker was impossible. Even if there were a way to gain access past encryption on flight controls, these ships were constantly under surveillance or being actively serviced by flight techs. And if, by some miracle, they had obtained one, flight was limited. Strykers and runners could not undergo conduit travel without a support vessel like a carrier.
---
With the Storm King still in the midst of velo spool-up, the personnel Sela and Valen passed in the corridors were mostly a mix of admins and Fleet techs. They were, in Sela’s estimation, the big brains that made the conduit travel work. They were suitably distracted for now. None of them seemed to even notice the two helmeted SSD troopers or question their presence.
At the entrance to the stockade, Sela paused.
“It’s not too late for you,” she said in a low voice. The helmet’s vox made her voice sound tinny and strained.
She could not tell Valen’s expression beyond the darkened visor of his helm, but sensed he was grinning at her. “And what? Let you have all the fun, sir?”
“Valen—”
“Where in Nyxa’s name have you been, troopers?”
Trinculo stood in the doorway with his arms folded and face ruddy with anger.
Her body snapped to attention. It was an ingrained reaction in the presence of any superior. Beside her, she sensed Valen do the same.
Her mind raced in competition with her heart hammering against her ribs. He found out. He knows. Trinculo knows.
“Officer Trinculo,” Sela stammered, not entirely certain of her next words.
“You are twelve minutes late for duty, breeder!” Trinculo snapped, leaning into the faceplate of her helm. His spittle pelted her visor.
He cast his burning gaze up at Valen. “You as well! How are you to be trusted with a guard post when you cannot even report for duty on time?”
Guard post? Sela realized: Trinculo did not recognize them. He assumed they were the assigned security detail for stockade.
“It’s my fault, Officer Trinculo,” Valen spouted. “I… uh… made her wait while I finished up in the rec suite.”
Eyes widening, Sela turned her head, just the slightest.
Trinculo took a step back. His face twisted in disgust. “Breeders and your disgusting rutting urges.”
He shoved Sela aside as he moved past them. “Do your duty before you become permanent residents of the detention level. Both of you!”
Sela watched Trinculo disappear into the bustle of the corridor without a backward glance. We are all the same to him.
“Rec suite?” Sela turned to Valen.
He shrugged under the heavy armor of his stolen uniform. “He bought it, didn’t he?”
---
As they approached Sela could see Veradin pacing in his cell, arms folded across his unfastened tunic, chewing at the pad of his thumb. A million mile stare cast out into the passage. At the sight of him like this, so altered, Sela felt something tighten in her chest. She feared her voice would fail her. That was when Valen spoke.
“Captain Veradin. Come with us, sir.”
The captain’s gaze shifted
and he seemed to resurface from some internal mire: “Is it time already?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Trinculo said I could see Commander Tyron before I leave.”
At that moment, she knew Veradin would never come willingly if he recognized them. He would fight off their attempt to rescue him, insist on protecting his sullied crester honor.
Valen stepped in front of her before she could move or act.
“It’s been arranged, sir.” He opened the cell door, gesturing to the passage.
Veradin came obediently, his head down as he offered his wrists for the restraints. Sela willed her hands to be steady as she snapped the metal cuffs on him. Oddly silent, he studied the grating of the deck and allowed himself to be led, seldom looking up. The expression on his face was unreadable. He looked as if he were sleepwalking.
Sela resisted the urge to tell him that this was a plan and that all would end well. But she knew, it would do little good to bring attention to themselves. Trinculo had eyes and ears everywhere.
By the time they reached the cavernous echo of the hangar and were surrounded by the darkened bulks of inactive skiffs and runners, Sela was starting to believe this might actually work. Perhaps, there was even a possibility Veradin would go along with an escape.
Valen led the way; she took up the rear, and they reached the ship without being stopped.
But as they boarded the open ramp of the Cassandra, Veradin seemed to snap out of it. In the dim light of the cargo hold, he raised his head and took in his surroundings.
Valen granted her a quick nod and walked down the ramp. He would stand watch outside the hangar until the captain was away.
And then… and then…
Sela ignored that nagging thought.
“A Cassandra?” Veradin asked, frowning. “Bit of a relic—”
Sela pulled her helm off and let it clatter to the floor.
Veradin blinked. “Ty?”
“We don’t have much time, sir.”
“Ty?” he repeated, anchored to the spot.
“Here.” She shoved the duty kit at him. He clutched it in self-defense, the action made awkward by the restraints. “Civilian attire. A few provisions. One sidearm. Best I could manage.”
“What’s going on?” Veradin looked down at the kit and then up to Sela.
“I broke into your quarters,” she confessed.
“You did what?” He gaped. “Have you lost your damned mind, Tyron?
Everyone keeps asking me that. Perhaps I have.
“They’re not transporting you offship to stand trial. First issued a death warrant for you, Captain.”
“Death warrant? Don’t be ridiculous!” He studied her. “How did you…?”
She bit her lip. “Trinculo, sir.”
She reached for his restraints to unfasten them.
He stepped back. “You went to the Information Officer! Ty….”
“Whatever the charges, you are innocent.”
“Exactly!” he said, leveling a finger at her. “If I run, it will only give the wrong message—”
“Yes, I know you believe that, sir! But if you’ve ever trusted me, you’ll listen to me now! First doesn’t care if you are innocent or not. Trinculo said you’re going to die, either way. There will be no trial. Just an execution.”
Veradin gaped at her. “That doesn’t make sense. There has to be some kind of mistake”
Forcefully, she grabbed at his cuffs and unlocked them. “Agreed, sir. That’s why you can’t stay here.”
“But what about you?”
He snatched at her sleeve, but she dodged him and sprinted up the few steps that led from the Cassandra’s cargo bay to the common passage. Veradin caught up and followed her up the short ladder to the command loft. She slid down into the recessed grav couch that served the pilot and navigator consoles. He collapsed onto the seat beside her, still clutching the duty kit to his chest.
“You’re coming with me then, right?” he asked. “Right?”
She ignored him, attention riveted to her task. Her entry codes worked on the first try. The tight knot in her stomach loosened slightly.
Around them the ship began to revive begrudgingly. Internal lights sputtered on to illuminate rusted, chipping paint and suspicious fluid leaks. A faint moan from the Cassandra made her cringe as the cesium tanks primed. The velos gave a disconcerting high-pitched squeal before settling down into a low continuous thrum.
New reads appeared on the com-sys screens and she released a relieved breath. Finally, the carrier’s intraship system opened. There, the Storm King’s sensory horizon was represented in bits of numerical string. Sela had memorized the order sets needed and began to systematically deactivate the dextir array. The result would temporarily blind the Storm King on that side, according to the instructions relayed by Valen’s tech contact.
Sela did not know what debt Valen held over the head of his Fleet tech, but it must have been incredible leverage. Maybe it was a rec mate that was sweet on him. Whatever the case, she could have kissed him or her.
If Trinculo lets me live that long.
She rose, stuffing the portable interface unit into the pocket of the stolen SSD trooper utilities. Hurriedly, she clambered across the top of the sunken bench of the command loft. She did not bother with the rungs of the ladder that led back to the common way and leapt down.
“Ty, answer me: what about you?” Veradin was steps behind her. At least he’d left the kit in the loft.
Don’t look at him. Stick to the plan.
She rummaged the handheld out of her pocket and held it out to him. When he would not move to take it, she pressed it to his chest.
“The ship’s had a lot of non-reg mods done to it. It’s not the most efficient, but it’s fast. A failure in the Storm King’s external array on the dextir side will appear. If you leave the ‘King just prior to jump, they won’t see you slip into the FP first.”
He snatched the handheld angrily and gave it only a cursory glance. A timer on its face offered a staccato soundtrack. The Cassandra was vastly smaller than the Storm King; the velo spool-up would take mere minutes in comparison.
Sela pressed on. “Even if they do, there won’t be time for them to stop spool-up. The nav-comp has already been prelogged to fit along the failure. Con-sys has already been programmed. All you have to do is go.”
“Go? Go where?”
“Not much time, sir. Your departure must be precise.”
“Just… just stop for a second.”
“You’ll need to avoid sensor drones. And whatever you do, don’t try to return to or contact anyone in Origin. They’ll anticipate that—”
“We can’t do this, Ty.”
She scooped up the stolen trooper helm and turned toward the ramp. The plan was to meet up with Valen in the corridor beyond the hangar.
He clutched her arm as she started to don the helm. “What are you going to do?”
“This is the plan, sir, to get you to safety. I’ll be fine.” She had never lied to him before.
“Trinculo will find out. It’s what he does.”
“I’m looking forward to it, sir.”
In truth, she was. Nothing would feel better than to take that smug sneer off that bastard’s face. Admittedly, she would probably never get close enough to him to do it, but a girl could hope.
She did not want to face him. But, finally, she did. Always when she was alone with him, there was a knot of words in the back of her head. Always something that was never voiced, always on the horizon, something she had been meaning to get to, something she needed worlds of time to chase or explore. But now there was no more time.
“Captain Veradin, sir, it has been an honor.” Her throat felt too tight as she squeezed out the words. She extended her right hand to him.
“No.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t end like this. It can’t.”
He took her offered hand, but held it. His grip almost painful.
“Ty.” He p
ulled her to him.
“You have to go. Quickly. Please,” Sela begged. Here was another first in such a short space of time. First lying. Now begging. “Go now. You’re never going to have a chance to prove you’re innocent if you stay, sir.”
“I can’t let you do this. There has to be another way. Come with me.” He kept his grip on her hand and took a stride back toward the command loft.
“Captain, you don’t understand.” She dug her heels into the deck. “This is my place. This is the only life I have ever known. This is where I belong.”
Why did he not just go? Why was he being so stubborn?
“You know I don’t believe that.” His grip tightened. There was something crushing about his voice. It sounded like fear, not for himself, but for her. “I will not have you suffer because of me.”
“No.” She met his gaze, unafraid. “No, sir. I suffer either way.”
I suffer… There. The words came from the aching hollowness that dwelled within her ever since Tasemar. “I will not lose you and my son on the same day. I will not fail you both.”
“Atilio.” He inhaled sharply with the revelation. Then slowly, his hand moved up to touch her face. “Sela. Forgive me. I didn’t—”
There was a sudden wicked flash at the deck near her foot.
“Contact!” She shoved him up the Cassandra’s open ramp.
Dark helms and bustling armor moved near the hangar entrance. SSD troopers. At least six of them. They were found out. The real stockade detail must have finally shown up.
“Valen!” She tapped her vox. “Status.”
“Boss… get out of—” A hiss of static poured out of her earpiece.
Slow. Everything was so slow. Grabbing her weapon took an eternity. Squaring off, she placed her body between Veradin and the hostiles.
She fired three rounds, trying to gauge her targets against the darkened hulls of the resting ships. Something powerful struck her chest. She staggered back, but did not fall.
“Ty!”
Sela doubled over, swallowing a painful bellow. Her chest seized, squeezing the air from her lungs. She took another shambling step and collapsed onto the ramp, smelling burning skin and charred fabric.
Allies and Enemies: Fallen Page 6