Victors

by T. R. Cameron

  Indraat nodded. “I have not a single doubt that you used them only when vital to the performance of your duties, and that your interests have ever been aligned with my own.” She laughed, surprising them both. “Except maybe in those first few rocky days of this posting.”

  He chuckled as well, remembering their fractious beginning, and some tension dissipated. His muscles relaxed back to their normal state as he took another bracing sip of the tisane.

  “I must ask you to use those accesses for our mutual benefit, to discover if my concern about a rogue operative on the ship is correct.”

  “Of course, Fleet-Captain.”

  She slid her tablet across to him and stood to seal the room into secure mode again. She pulled her chair around the table to sit next to him and watched while he worked.

  His codes let him into every one of the ship’s systems, and she gave a low whistle. She had similar access, but only to the “front” data, which she feared her first was manipulating in an effort to hide contacts with others off the ship. The religious officer had the keys to the raw, unfiltered records, and appeared to understand his way around them.

  “There is nothing overt in the system. At least I don’t think there is, Fleet-Captain. No unauthorized accesses to the equipment in your quarters, no obvious manipulations of the ship systems.”

  “That’s reassuring,” she replied. “Where else can you look?”

  “A more skilled technician could no doubt back-trace the movements of the crew members. However, I am not that person. I do have a bit of proficiency in—” he’d been entering commands all the while and hit a final button with a flourish. “Aha. There have been transmissions from the ship that bypassed its systems.”

  Anger roared through her, and she forced her voice to remain conversational. “How do you know?”

  “The sensors picked them up as part of our routine scans. As the data didn’t match any of the programmed alert conditions, no action was taken.”

  “That seems like an oversight,” she said.

  “It isn’t, Fleet-Captain. Were the sensors set to record stray signals from within the ship, it would also hinder the ability of the religious officers to do their work.”

  Indraat mulled that statement for a moment, then raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, and she read no apology in the gesture. “Can we identify what messages were sent?”

  Raanja shook his head, making the tightly bound club of feathers at the base of his neck bob. “All that’s recorded are the times and durations of the signals.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. I swear it.”

  She nodded. “Okay, then. Are you able to set the system to search for similar occurrences? Upon detection, it should alert us and also identify the position of each crew member.”

  He frowned and went back to entering commands without answering. Several moments later he looked up and said, “It is done.”

  “Now once it happens again, we’ll have more information to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Yes, Fleet-Captain.” He shut down the display and twisted toward her. “Do you believe this is traitorous activity?”

  Indraat paused and thought about it, then shook her head. “No Xroeshyn would conspire with the humans. Whatever political maneuvering is at hand, I imagine it is entirely internal. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  “Your perspective is persuasive. I also cannot see a situation where one of our people would intervene on behalf of our enemy. Which leaves the question of their purpose still unanswered.”

  “It’s no secret my uncle made enemies during his rise to hierarch, and marshal, and finally to emperor. No doubt some feel he’s overreached, and that he uses the pretext of divine support as a means to the end of political power consolidation.”

  Deacon Raanja blinked in shock or surprise at hearing this argument from her. “Are these your feelings as well, Fleet-Captain?” he asked with exquisite care.

  Indraat sighed and paced the tiny open space in her quarters. “That’s a hard question, Raanja. To think our leaders could engage in a betrayal so extreme is virtually unthinkable. The idea that a member of my family could do so, seems impossible each time I imagine it.”

  She realized she’d tensed all of her muscles and forced them to relax. “I believe in the righteousness of this war. I believe in the fundamental goodness of my uncle. I believe he has the interests of the gods at heart, and that the machinations of which he is no doubt accused are imaginary.” She ran her hands through the feathers atop her head, sending them billing outward and gave them a shake. A sliver of her mind was amused at her religious officer’s reaction to his captain’s partially dressed and wild-coiffed display. The rest of her attention was sunk deep, searching for the truth of her beliefs.

  “The smallest part of me, though, refuses to remain silent. It questions the course of the war and the actions of my uncle. It wonders if the extremes to which we’ve gone are necessary. It wonders if our gods are truly that bloodthirsty, or if they would’ve been content without the wholesale slaughter of those humans not engaged in warring against us.” She dropped her arms to the side and blew out a breath. “It wonders.”

  He nodded, a look of understanding betraying the similar direction of his own thoughts, and the edge of pain that lay beneath it showed what the doubt cost him. When he spoke, his tone was formal and sincere “That is the very reason I’m willing and proud to serve with you, Fleet-Captain Indraat Vray. Of all the sailors and soldiers I’ve met, the complexity and purity of your perspective is the most consistent and the most thoughtful.”

  She raised her head to meet his eyes. “Thank you, Raanja.”

  He nodded to acknowledge her thanks. “If there is a traitor aboard ship, why not simply kill you, rather than engaging in these subterfuges? Certainly, there have been opportunities.”

  She stalked back to her chair, pulled it to its resting position across the table from the religious officer, and sat. “An entirely valid question. At the first level, I’m almost always on my guard, so perhaps an appropriate opportunity hasn’t arisen. Another possibility is that an attempt has been made, such as on the planet where the Domeki vessel was hidden but failed. I don’t give these any particular credence, however. I’m confident I’d sense it if someone had tried.” She leaned on her elbows, narrowing the distance between them.

  “What I think, what I fear, is that there are much larger wheels in motion. Our lurker is a cog in a machine we cannot yet see the outlines of and the goal of which we cannot yet perceive. If this is the case, there’s no telling what may transpire as the events of this war draw to a close.”

  “You believe it will end soon, Fleet-Captain?”

  Indraat leaned back with a sly smile. “Of course, Deacon. The end of the cycle is nigh. If we are to fulfill the promises and demands of the gods, it must end in the next few months. Isn’t that so?”

  He offered an uncertain smile in response. “It is so.”

  She leaned forward again, even closer this time, and her voice was barely above a whisper, “It stands to reason that whatever our lurker is up to, it must reach its climax by then. The only question that remains is whether it will be in support of that goal, which will provide the emperor with a great victory, or against that goal, which could result in any number of ugly outcomes for the Xroeshyn people.”

  “I’ll admit to being afraid of the latter outcome, Fleet-Captain.”

  “I as well, Deacon. However, I know my uncle better than most. Just as there are wheels within wheels that turn toward the unwelcome surprise he plans for the humans, it may be that there are additional wheels at play to block or capitalize upon whatever subterfuge is at hand.”

  “The possibilities seem endless. I don’t know how you keep them all straight.”

  A snort escaped her. “It is shockingly simple, Deacon Raanja. Always assume there is an additional layer beneath the one that you can see.”

  “And once you uncover
that lower layer?”

  “Another layer, of course. Layers upon layers upon layers, my friend. Layers all the way down.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Marine transport ship was all hard edges and sharp corners. Even the conference room had a feel of hardness about it, despite the comfortable chairs around the rectangular table. Seated in them were some of Cross’s favorite people, and a couple he didn’t know well yet.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Rhys St. John said. “Commandant Tomos has some interesting ideas she’d like to share with you.”

  Ceridwen Tomos was an almost legendary figure in the UAL Navy. Her ability to cut with her wit was second only to her ability to do so in combat, despite her relatively diminutive size compared to the others at the table. Rumor had it she had so many medals that they no longer fit on her uniform. Her voice was amused as she said, “Well, one interesting idea at least.”

  She called up an image of a Xroeshyn vessel on the huge display mounted along the long wall. Jannik, seated across from Cross, had to twist to see it, but let out a whistle when he did. “That’s a nice ship.”

  The Marine Commandant nodded. “It is a very nice ship, and fortunately one we’ve not had to face too often. It’s the birds’ version of our carrier, but it’s half again the size and, by our estimates from the battle at Earth, brings almost double the number of fighters.”

  “It’s impressive that the Beijing did so well against the carrier that ran the attacks against the planet,” Kate said. Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table.

  Tomos gave her a nod. “As you might’ve guessed, we haven’t asked you here to admire the ship, but rather to discuss a plan for it.”

  “We’d need to bring overwhelming force,” Cross began, running his words together in his desire to get them out. “But really, as long as we had four or five cruisers, or fewer ships and a carrier, we could—”

  Tomos raised a hand to cut him off, and Sinner stepped into the conversational gap. “We don’t want to destroy it,” she said. “We want to steal it.”

  Silence filled the space in the wake of her proclamation until the commandant spoke again. “As Gunnery Sergeant Murphy has said, the powers that be have arrived at the astounding conclusion that having an enemy carrier to use as a Trojan horse at the battle in the aliens’ home system might be a good idea.” The statement inspired snorts and chuckles from the group. “Since the people in this room possess some experience with such activities from that other time, those same powers that be thought you’d make an excellent planning team.”

  Her words hung in the air, most notably the reference to their earlier foray to board an enemy vessel, a mission unapproved by anyone higher in the chain of command than Cross, and clearly a less-well-kept secret than he’d imagined.

  “This is the outgrowth of a prior meeting among the Marines,” Saint said. “Our role in the assault on the Xroeshyn home system has been unclear all along. We knew we’d be involved, but without a specific task, have been unsure how to proceed.”

  “Actually, we’re still unsure what we’ll be doing in the final battle,” Sinner said.

  Saint nodded. “Obviously, if we get down to the planet, we know what we’re about. Otherwise, we’re just passengers, I guess. Anyway, we were throwing around ideas of how to make ourselves useful in the interim, and someone suggested boarding enemy ships and taking them from within. This meeting is the logical outgrowth of that idea.”

  Tomos took over. “Is this something you’re interested in discussing?” Affirmatives rang out, and the commandant clapped her hands. “All right. Let’s get to it.”

  An hour later, with the debris of a light meal littering the table, the plan was coming into focus.

  “Okay, how about we go over it from the top,” said Tomos, waving for the separate teams to come together again at one end of the table.

  Once they’d rearranged themselves, Claire Martin said, “The Phoebe has identified a sector where several Xroeshyn ships are gathered. Our upgraded communication and sensor equipment has allowed us to get a picture of the situation, and also to listen in on some of their conversations. It appears to be a waypoint for repairs, with between four and six ships there at any given time. A carrier is currently one of them. We’re unable to ascertain whether it’s damaged or just acting as a defense for the sector, but we expect it’s the latter. We believe we’ve discovered a way to effectively jam their communications, based upon,” there was a slight hesitation, “previous experience.”

  Kate took over. “The Pandora will ride the wave in with the Phoebe, and we’ll engage any other ships present in hopes of getting lucky with a surprise strike. However, our main goal is to put ourselves right in front of the carrier. By now, they should know about my girl’s armor and her ability to withstand a collision. We hope to limit their maneuverability by staying on their nose, aligned with their thrust vector.

  “Won’t this leave you open to a lot of abuse from the other ships?” Jannik asked.

  Kate smiled at him. “That’s where you come in.”

  Cross said, “The Washington will take part, of course. I’d say we need to bring at least one other cruiser and a carrier of our own, or several other cruisers in its place.”

  Commandant Tomos nodded. “It just so happens that we have a carrier to send. My colleagues in fleet command expect having fighter-to-fighter capability will be important.”

  “Especially if there are as many fighters on board as we estimate.”

  “We have a thought on that,” Saint said. He and Sinner had been huddled with Jannik throughout the earlier session.

  The chief engineer threw a schematic up onto the main display from his tablet. “The Marine scientists have outdone themselves on this one. Before you, is a torpedo-deployed version of the web grenade.”

  “Is it big enough to capture a whole ship?” Cross asked, then shook his head at the stupidity of the impulsive question.

  Jannik smiled. “Not quite, Captain. The Washington will carry the only four of these beasties in existence, and the goal is to fire them into the starboard and port hangers. Once one gets in there, we’ll send it a signal and the torpedo’s engine cuts off and it ejects a ton of canisters in every direction. After several seconds, those canisters deploy and spray the area with enough strings to lock it down.” He turned back from looking at the missile. “Worst case, we get two primary shots and then two backup shots if something goes awry. Best case, the first ones work, and we follow them in for additional blockage.”

  “I like it,” Cross said. “Do we think we’ll be able to keep the carrier in place, though, just with the Pandora? If things go south, the aliens might choose the ramming option over capture.”

  “Hopefully the Phoebe can take care of that, Captain Cross,” said Claire. “She’s currently manufacturing a weapon that should help.” He frowned, and Kate jumped in.

  “A while back, Pandora informed me there were additional munitions types available that we didn’t have on board. I shared that information with Claire, and the Phoebe confirmed she had additional schematics available.”

  “After a long conversation,” Claire said, “she agreed to provide me access to just one, and only because it is, in itself, nonlethal.”

  Cross sent a confused look at Kate, and she mouthed, “Later.”

  “In any case,” Claire continued, “we have a weapon we hope can knock the carrier’s engines off-line without damaging them. We’ll be prepared to replace any components that are overly fragile, but in our estimation, there shouldn’t be too much repair necessary.

  “If there’s one thing the birds aren’t, it’s fragile,” said Saint. Nods and sighs were offered in response.

  The group spent the next hour nailing down all the operational details, sharing critiques and polishing the plan. Finally, as Cross was just beginning to lose his mind, they broke up and went their separate ways.

  “Somehow this cabin doesn’t feel like you,” Kate sa
id, wandering around the captain’s quarters on the Washington DC. Cross had taken advantage of the months of repair to redecorate the space, resulting in a still comfortable but more functional aesthetic. Gone were the comfortable couches, replaced by a meeting space and a working desk. Gone too was the historical art Okoye had mounted on all the walls, replaced by displays that currently showed swatches of color or planetary systems.

  “You’re obviously delirious, let’s go,” he said, and picked her up. She shrieked as he threatened to dump her over on her head, then laughed for several minutes after he threw her through the air to land on the bed in the sleeping area nearby.

  Cross lay down beside her and watched her while her mirth played out. She rolled over and looked at him. “It feels like we’re nearing the end, doesn’t it?”

  He nodded and replied, “It does.”

  “Things are just going to move more quickly from here.”

  “Which is why we need to rest while we can,” he said, and gathered her into his arms. He snuggled his face into the crevice between her shoulder and her neck and inhaled her scent.

  “You stay safe,” she breathed at him.

  “You stay safe.”

  “I will, if you will.”

  “Deal.” He forced his drooping lids open to look at her, and the silence brought her gaze to his. “I love you, Kate. I want a life together when this is over.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

  “And I you.” She closed her eyes, but somehow, Cross knew she wasn’t finished speaking. Minutes later, as he was on the verge of falling asleep, she muttered, “So don’t screw it up, flyboy.”

  He grinned, and sleep took him.

  When he awoke, he reached sleepily over to her side of the bed, only to find it empty. With a groan he levered himself up on his elbows, and realized that her presence, that ambience he always sensed when she was near, had fled. “I hate it when you do that,” he complained to the empty room. With another, louder, groan, he forced himself out of bed to get to work.