by Joe Vasicek
“If that’s what you want to call it, then yes, I suppose so.”
The realization struck him with all the force of a pair of colliding stars. His vision blurred, and the room suddenly felt as if it were closing in all around him. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing would come out. Even though he still didn’t trust these dirty planetborn mercenaries, deep down, he knew it was true.
“Are you all right?” asked the captain. “You look a little pale—would you like some cold water?”
“I—I’m fine,” said Abaqa, taking a deep breath. “Perfectly fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He sat up straight and looked her in the eye, determined not to show any more weakness.
“What do you want from me?”
The captain looked to the old cyborg, who nodded at her. She nodded back, then turned to face him.
“Frankly speaking, Prince Abaqa, we want your cooperation. If you work with us, we can return you to your mother without any, shall we say, unpleasant complications.”
“You want me to beg for money?” he said, sneering at them. “What makes you think I’d stoop so low?”
She shrugged. “Normally, we’d simply ransom you to the highest bidder, but because of your mother, I’d be willing to settle for a little less. That is, if you’re willing to help us negotiate.”
“My brothers are going to hunt you down, planetborn,” said Abaqa, narrowing his eyes. “And when they do, you’re going to wish we’d never crossed paths.”
“And if they don’t?”
“They will,” he said, his lips curled in a snarl. “They will.”
Captain Danica sighed and shook her head. “We’ll take our chances,” she said, rising to her feet. The old cyborg also stood and took Abaqa by the arm, indicating that the meeting was over.
“Come,” he said. “The captain has had enough of you.”
“And I’ve had more than enough of her.”
The old cyborg made as if to slap him, but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead, he grunted and led the way back down to the brig, the two soldiers following close behind them.
I could have been planetborn, Abaqa thought to himself, shuddering in horror at the thought. I could have been weak and dishonorable like these people.
But how weak were they, really? He had to admit, he didn’t think any of his brothers would be able to win in hand-to-hand combat with the old cyborg. And their captain—she’d treated him not as a prisoner, but as an honored guest. It almost made him feel ashamed for the way he’d talked back to her.
Honor and glory are not the only virtues in this universe, his mother’s words came to his mind. He’d used to blow that off, but now, things didn’t seem so simple anymore.
* * * * *
Rina suppressed a yawn as she watched the scanner for any sign of incoming Hameji ships. She tried listening to the background radio noise for any stray transmissions to hint at their presence, but this far out into deep space, there was nothing but ancient static.
“The younger soldiers do not understand,” said Roman, sitting in for the captain. “They think that our enemy is the Hameji. They do not realize that our spirit was broken long before they scattered us.”
“Indeed,” said Zura, sitting in for Yuri. He took a puff of his cigarette and rolled it between his fingertips. “The thing they fear most is being lost. They cling to this war because it gives them a focus, something to live for. Without an enemy to fight against, what is the point of living in exile?”
What is the point? Rina wondered. She had to admit, she didn’t know.
Roman grunted and nodded. “They do not know what it is to live under occupation. They are soft and do not understand.”
Zura offered him his cigarette, as if to console him. Roman took it and drew in a long, heady breath before handing it back. The two men enjoyed a moment of silence, one which Rina had no desire to interrupt. In a way, she was almost jealous. She’d lost her homeland, too, but unlike them, there was no one she could turn to.
“Still,” said Roman, “I would gladly die for them.”
Zura raised an eyebrow. “You would?”
“Of course. What else would I do? We have no country, no homeland—only ourselves. Everyone must die someday—better to die with dignity than live as machine.”
Interesting.
“You’re a good man. But me, I’d like to think I still have something worth living for.”
Roman chuckled. “Like the whores waiting for you at New Vela?”
“Not just New Vela, my friend,” said the old corporal with a grin. “When my time comes, I aim to be missed.”
A flash on the display snapped Rina out of the conversation. She narrowed her eyes at the scanners and frowned. Moments later, an alert tone sounded across the bridge.
“What is it?” asked Roman.
“Three marks, approximately five thousand kilometers out,” she said. “Accelerating on our position—they appear to be Hameji gunboats.”
“Oh, mother,” said Zura. “They’ve found us.”
“How long until primary jump drive is charged?” Roman asked, his voice cool and steady.
“We’re almost at ninety percent,” said Zura. “I would say, oh, perhaps thirty minutes.”
“They’re accelerating fast,” said Rina. “I don’t think we have that much time.”
“Then we have no choice,” said Roman, his expression grim. “Zura, do you have jump coordinates set?”
“I do, Sergeant.”
“Good. Engage.”
Rina took a deep breath and held it, gripping the edge of her armrests. If the Hameji interdicted them with another jump beacon, it would be almost thirty minutes before they could make the next jump—and five or six hours for the one after that. Unless they managed to escape into deep space where the Hameji couldn’t track them, they were as good as dead.
An almost inaudible hum sounded in her enhanced ears, coming through the bulkheads. The reactor was engaging the primary jump drive. Her skin crawled, and her stomach flipped. She closed her eyes and still felt as if the universe around her was collapsing. The sensation grew until she felt she couldn’t take it—and then, a sudden flood of relief told her that they were through.
She allowed herself a short gasp before hastily checking the scanners. The three marks were gone, leaving the display completely empty. Outside, the milky white light of millions of undimmed stars shone through the forward window, silent and cold.
“Well?” said Roman, looking at her intently. “Any sign?”
“None,” she said. “No Hameji beacon in this sector. It appears we’ve evaded them.”
“Yes!” said Zura, pumping his fist. He reached under his flight suit and pulled out an ornate silver cross, which he kissed.
“Triangulate our position, then,” said Roman. “Fix our coordinates, and prepare to set course for New Vela.”
New Vela, Rina thought as she stared out across the ancient starlight. Now that they’d escaped, it was a race to see who could get to New Vela first: the Tajji Flame, or the Hameji.
Chapter 12
“Sir, the evacuation order has been given for the planetary defense stations,” said the communications officer, glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder. “The Federation ships are jumping out—it’s over.”
Katsuichi clenched his teeth and gripped the armrests of his command chair. Through the windows overhead, bright yellow tracers arced downward towards the cloud-speckled surface of New Vela II, while soundless pink explosions flashed in the distance near the horizon. As he watched, two of the sleek Rigelan cruisers shot past on a lower orbital and intercepted a squadron of incoming Hameji gunboats with projectile fire, forcing them away from the Divine Wind. It was chaos out there—absolute chaos, with the Federation in shameful retreat as the last civilian stragglers tried desperately to flee their doomed world.
“Sir,” said the pilot, “Colonel Webb has withdrawn his forces hig
her up the gravity well. We’re the only ones left protecting the evacuees.”
“Incoming Hameji battle group,” said the gunnery officer, his eyes glued to his screen. “Moving to intercept—they’re coming in fast!”
“Accelerate to a higher orbital and prepare to retreat to the rendezvous point,” said Katsuichi, letting out a long breath. “But keep everything orderly.” Let it not be said that our forces were routed.
“Yes, sir,” said the pilot, the relief in his voice completely undisguised. The bridge briefly filled with light as a nuclear explosion flashed only a few hundred kilometers off the Divine Wind’s bow.
“Sir,” said the communications officer, “we’re being hailed by one of the civilian transports—the Blue Dolphin. They say their jump drive has malfunctioned, and they need protection until they can get it operational again.”
Katsuichi frowned. “How far are they?”
“On a parallel orbital roughly two kilometers below us. Coming up in just a few minutes.”
“Sir,” said the gunnery officer, “the lower orbitals are swarming with Hameji warships. If we go down there, we’ll come under heavy fire and suffer severe casualties. I don’t see how we can save the transport and hold formation at the same time.”
Katsuichi sighed and rubbed his temple with his fingertips. What would you do, Father? he wondered desperately to himself. I can’t pay back our debts to the Federation—not like this.
“Hold our position, but lay down as much covering fire as you can,” he said, looking wearily up. “It might not be enough to save them, but it’s all that we can do.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” said the pilot and gunnery officer in quick unison. They turned to their posts and began to execute the order.
Katsuichi stared out the forward window as the battle raged around him. Dark clouds of smoke mingled with the pristine white clouds of the planet, debris flashing like so many hundred meteors across the glassy atmosphere. On the horizon, a glittering point came slowly closer. Tracers and plasma bursts arced as the Hameji swarmed to it like sharks to a sinking carcass. It was the Blue Dolphin, no doubt—the lines of projectile fire streaming from the Rigelan ships confirmed that.
“Stars of Earth,” said Kenta, standing in his customary position behind the command chair. “Would you look at that.”
“What?”
“That warship just turned on the one beside it—look.”
Katsuichi leaned forward and squinted, but all he saw was a mass of glittering starships and flashing points of light. Frowning, he hit a button on his armrest. A holographic projection from the sensors blinked into existence in front of him, showing dozens of little red points for the Hameji ships and one blue point for the transport.
“Tactical officer,” he said, staring intently at the projection. “What’s going on?”
“It appears that the Hameji ships are attacking each other, sir,” said the tactical officer. “Perhaps they’re fighting over the spoils?”
“Sir,” said the pilot, “we have incoming Federation ships dropping through our orbital. Request immediate permission to alter course and avoid collision.”
“Federation ships?”
“Sir, collision is imminent!”
“Evasive action, then.”
The floor shuddered and the planetary vista pitched and swerved as the sublight engines roared to life. Outside, a ship passed less than a kilometer away, hurtling downward at breakneck speeds. Several officers gasped, while one technician fell to the floor shaking.
“Collision averted,” said the pilot. “Regrouping.”
“What was that?” Katsuichi shouted.
“The California, sir,” said the gunnery officer. “They’re in our line of fire—breaking off bombardment.”
“It appears that Colonel Webb is dropping down to save the transport.”
Sure enough, the blue dot on the holographic projection representing the Colonel’s flagship dropped down into the fray, scattering the smaller Hameji ships and engaging the larger capital ships at close range. One of them broke apart and began the long fall to the surface.
Katsuichi clenched his fists. What’s that bastard doing now? he wondered. Trying to steal our honor? Where was he when we needed him?
“Sir, the Blue Dolphin is climbing up the gravity well. They’ll be trailing us in just a short while now.”
“Establish a perimeter and try to ward off any incoming attack,” he ordered. “Once the transport is out, give the order to retreat and regroup at the rendezvous point.”
“Sir.”
Dark clouds loomed on the ever-approaching horizon, covering the surface in thick gray ash. Kenta peered forward and frowned, while several technicians rose to their feet and stared in horror. “What is that?” Katsuichi asked, switching off the holographic projection to get a better view.
“Sir, it—it’s the Hameji. They’ve brought in their mass accelerators, and …”
The pilot’s words hung unspoken in the air, punctuating the grim silence that soon fell across the entire bridge. As Katsuichi watched, half a dozen cannon-shaped ships, each more than two kilometers long, took up position above the blue-green world. A giant chunk of space rock shot away from the nearest one, sending a bright cloud of black debris upward into the atmosphere as it impacted on the surface. The cloud slowly formed a teardrop shape as the ash and dust hit the upper atmosphere.
Katsuichi’s stomach fell. It was like Gaia Nova and Tajjur V all over again. In just a few hours, every soul on the surface of that world would be dead.
“Sir, the California and the Blue Dolphin have jumped out. We’re the last of the Federation ships still in orbit.”
“Take us out, then,” he said, dropping back into his seat. A deep, sinking feeling of despair overtook him, drowning out all other emotion. With the Federation forces in a rout, his fleet was the only thing standing between the Hameji and Shinihon.
* * * * *
Hikaru walked slowly down the dark, narrow corridor to the captain’s quarters, dragging her feet as she went. Things had become rather boring in the last couple of days, which probably meant that they were almost home—and that much closer to returning her to the Imperial Palace.
She palmed the door open and stepped into a remarkably well furnished room. The wood-paneled floor reminded her of her old bedroom, and a lump rose in her throat in spite of herself. The painting on the opposite wall portrayed a desert landscape as unlike her homeworld as she’d ever seen. Everything, from the faded leather of the couch and chairs to the archaic printed volumes sitting on the bookshelves, seemed strange and exotic.
This ship is the last place I’ll see before they send me back to the palace, she thought to herself, drawing in a deep breath. It might be the last time I leave Shinihon for the stars.
“Ah, Princess,” said Danica, standing up from her chair and turning around to face her. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes,” said Hikaru. “Do you have time to—well, to talk?”
“Certainly. Please, have a seat.”
Hikaru bowed politely and walked over to the couch on the far side of the room, sitting gingerly on the edge. Danica went to the back for a few brief moments and came back with a tray of tea. Why didn’t she have a servant bring that? Hikaru wondered.
“Care for some tea?” she asked, setting the tray on the table between them.
“Yes, thank you,” said Hikaru. She waited a moment for the captain to serve her, but when it became apparent that that wasn’t the custom here, she did her best to serve herself. Strange, these customs—unrefined, and yet in a way refreshing.
“I’m happy to report that we’ve evaded the Hameji,” said Danica, mixing a bit of cream and stirring it in thoroughly. “We should arrive at New Vela in just a matter of hours.”
“And New Rigel after that?”
“Of course.”
Hikaru sighed and listlessly stirred her tea. Everything seemed to be happening s
o quickly, now—and soon after she returned to the palace, it would be as if she’d never left.
“Do we have to go back so soon?” she asked, her voice barely more than a mumble. “Can’t we stay at New Vela for—for a week or two?”
Danica took a sip from her teacup and lowered it to her lap. “Probably not, Your Highness. Considering how the war is going, that wouldn’t be very safe.”
I hate being safe.
“The Hameji are advancing quickly through the rift, and may attack New Vela in just a few hours,” Danica continued. “We’ll be lucky to sneak past their forces along the way.”
“Then can we spend a little extra time in the outer planets at New Rigel? Please?”
Hikaru cringed at how pathetic she sounded, but she didn’t have any other choice—at least, not here in deep space at least, with nowhere to run. But if she could convince the captain to dock at a station somewhere, perhaps—
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Princess. You’re needed on your homeworld, not here in this war-zone. And frankly, I don’t think it’s fair of you to ask.”
Hikaru frowned. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not going to lie, Princess,” said Danica, staring right through her with a cold, steely gaze. “We’re all getting tired of putting our necks out for you. My first and most important priority is to see to the welfare of my men. If I’d known how dangerous this mission would be, I would have turned it down, and you’d be a Hameji slave right now. What do you think of that?”
Better a slave to the Hameji than a prisoner of the palace, Hikaru almost shot back. But then she thought of her brother, somewhere out in space fighting to defend their home, and realized that that wasn’t true. Certainly, his was a face she had missed.
“I just wanted to get out and see the stars,” she said, clenching her fists. “What’s so wrong about that?”
“Everything, if it means abandoning all your obligations and responsibilities to do it. When people are depending on you, you shouldn’t up and run away like that.”