Akvô, Home world of the Érenni Republics.
A stream of plasma erupted into space, a pillar of light as bright as a star and hotter than the hottest furnace that seared and melted anything in its path. Luckily that just happened to be a few loose particles and atoms in the vacuum of space.
“Whoa! Whoa!! Rául yelled into the intercom. “Shut it down, quickly!”
The blue-white plume lessened and died away, leaving only a slight wisp of vapor in its wake.
“What the hell just happened?” Tarek Winters demanded angrily. “What are you doing to my ship?”
“One of the fuel lines ruptured,” Rául reported in a professional tone belying his own anxiety. He checked the flight deck displays. “Automatic fail safe shut down fuel injection. The line's integrity must've been compromised when we were being skewered by Ashani warships,” he added in a more deadpan voice.
Tarek ran a harried hand over his emaciated face. He had visibly aged years during the past few weeks. He and Rául were on the flight deck, monitoring the ongoing repairs while Alexej and Annie were in EVA gear in the now unpressurized engine room, trying to get the IRON MAIDEN working again. He pressed the intercom key. “Engineering, you guys okay down there?”
“No problem, skipper,” Annie replied almost cheerfully. “We were nowhere near the rupture.”
“Glad to hear that. How's the ship? Any damage?”
“No more than there already was before. But sadly, not less, either. Skipper, it's a real mess down here.”
After the escape from Senfina they had made a quick survey of the ship and the damage it'd taken. It was amazing the MAIDEN hadn't exploded after the first hit. The Dominion's nimble fighters had done a good job of crippling the old freighter. Putting her back together was a job beyond any of them. This just wasn't something a couple of gifted amateurs could do on their own using just a bunch of power tools. The empty MAIDEN weighed more than six hundred thousand tons; even with Érenni spare parts – and those had cost them nearly an arm and a leg – that was just too much for them to do without a dedicated space dock. And right now every dockyard in Republican space was busy refitting and repairing anything with a pair of guns on it in preparation for the expected Dominion attack.
“Just get us mobile,” Tarek sighed tiredly. “I don't care if we move at a snail's pace as long as you get us into the fold. We'll worry about the rest when we get somewhere safe.”
Llyr, their Tuathaan translator, was currently negotiating for spare parts. They had already bought some very expensive items necessary for repairing the more crucial and delicate parts of the ship. Now Llyr was trying to barter for some more equipment that would hopefully make things a bit easier for them. Problem was, with an Ashani fleet on its way the price of supplies available on the open market had increased astronomically. Simple parts which would have cost a few thousand credits at best were now going for tens, sometimes even hundreds of thousands as profiteers sapped money out of desperate people trying to escape. Desperate people like them.
Captain Natara of the Republican navy had 'liberated' a few parts from the naval yards in gratitude for the MAIDEN's crew's rescue of two thousand Érenni civilians, but there were still a few key components even she couldn't get.
Rául was leaning over the displays on his console, watching pressure gauges on one screen and sensor reports on another. It seemed that half the planet had one eye on the sky, just waiting for the inevitable, waiting for the Ashani to come. There wasn't a sensor platform, be it a satellite, a military vessel or a civilian ship that wasn't scouring every bit of the star system with its sensors.
The Érenni themselves had been strangely quiet. At least the ones he had met when collecting supplies had been. They hadn't spoken much or seemed as if they were all there mentally, all distant and far away looking. He figured they probably had a lot more to think about than some aliens trying to buy stuff...
“When did you last get some sleep?” Tarek turned his head and asked quietly.
“Me?” Rául raised an eyebrow, his younger face lined with deep furrows. “Dunno, skipper. About a thousand years ago?”
“Does seem like a lot's been happening these last few days,” Tarek agreed with a wry grin. “The whole galaxy's just changed around us and we haven't had time to catch our breath and take it all in.”
“Just too much, boss,” Rául sighed and rubbed the ridge of his nose, pinching his eyes shut. “When I threw college I didn't expect I'd be watching an entire colony get wiped out. I mean, we saw that as it happened, millions just dying right there in front of us. It's just not something I've ever even thought about before, you know?”
“It isn't what I signed up for,” Tarek said glumly. “See the galaxy, make a huge pile of money, maybe find someone cool to settle with, just the normal sort of things a guy would want.”
“I get that, it's kinda why I'm here too,” Rául nodded wearily. “Thing is, we've had the money, we've been to more places than I'd ever imagined I'd visit, and I think I'm getting quite fond of Annie.”
“Fond?” Tarek chuckled weakly. “You're 'fond' of her? Oh yeah, that's looking pretty bad.”
“Hey, she's a good girl!” Rául reddened in protest. “But, what I meant was: we were doing pretty fine, just living our lives - and then all this happens!” he muttered in frustration.
“I've got no easy answers, Raúl. This shit we've seen, it just isn't wired into the human mind to process things like that,” Tarek said calmly and stared emptily at a screen showing the diamond spotted darkness of space. “At least, not normal humans. You read about wars and genocide in history, but it doesn't seem real.”
“None of this seems real, skipper, and that's what worries me!” Rául emphasized with a mirthless laugh. “When they were bombing the colony it was just like in a movie, as if it was all just a show and no one would really get hurt. I knew inside that people were dying, but I just couldn't connect, I just didn't feel anything for them. And I still don't! What the hell does that make me?”
“Makes you totally normal,” Tarek looked back at him, a weak smile flashing across his face. “It's just too much. Trust me: it'll all come crashing down in pain and misery soon. But what you need to do now is not dwell on it and get some rest. As soon as Alexej gets the engines even half done we're out of here. I'm fed up of getting trapped in invasions.”
“Hear, hear,” Rául sighed, looking at his displays.
“But…,” Tarek prompted with a half-amused, half-annoyed expression. “You're going to say 'but', aren't you?”
“But,” Rául nodded, “I don't want to see the Érenni fight this one out on their own. I feel we should be helping.”
Tarek sighed. His reflection in the bridge's screens showed the first signs of gray in his curly black hair that hadn't been there just a few weeks ago. “I understand you, but we can't. I mean, really? What could we do?”
“We can join their navy. The Érenni are always looking for mercenaries,” Rául stated flatly. “Or just go planet side with a gun and be ready to shoot the first Ashani who lands.”
“Except they aren't going to land, just nuke or poison everything from orbit.” Tarek shook his head. “And Rául, no offense man, but you aren't a mercenary. You can do a lot more good here with the crew.”
“Hey yeah, you're right!” he brightened. “We could run rescue missions, save refugees!”
“Not what I meant.” A few days ago Rául had wanted nothing more than to save himself. Now he was bordering on the heroic. The invasion was starting to do funny things to people. “We're going to run away as soon as we can.”
“You've seen what the Érenni are facing. They can't do this alone!”
“Well, we won't make a difference,” Tarek's voice was firm. “Not alive, and surely not dead.”
“That's the sort of attitude that let's this stuff happen!” Rául exclaimed energetically. “If everyone just made it their business, if we all just took a stand, we could make a differenc
e.”
“Look, I don't like the Dominion, but the fact is we can't stop them. If we hang around here when they come, we're dead. If we and everyone we know took a stand, we'd all be dead! We're cargo haulers, Rául, not some special ops brigade! We can't take on the Ashani. Only a real navy can do that. We just need to get home and make sure precautions are taken.”
“What precautions?” Rául puzzled.
“You think these guys would have any problems bombing Earth? Or Mars? Or any other of our colonies, regardless of what flag it's flying?” Tarek asked coolly. “You've seen their fleet and its power. We gotta tell someone on Earth what's going on out here so they can be prepared if they come for us.”
“Wait a minute, you think these guys would try to take us on?” gasped Rául.
“I've got no idea what I'm supposed to believe anymore,” the MAIDEN's captain muttered darkly. “It's a long way home, but if I can do anything about it I'll try to make sure our boys and girls are ready to stop them. Alliance, Euros, the Union, the bloody Starkingdom of Pegasus, I don't care.”
“And maybe spread the word about what's going on here, the genocide?” Rául suggested almost happily. “Try and get people to help?”
Tarek suspected Rául's wish to help was a way of him compensating for the detachment he still felt. He was in the same boat. The reality they had experienced, still were experiencing, was just too shocking to really grasp on an emotional level, but when he had seen Captain Natara earlier to thank her for the help she had given, in that moment he had felt some connection to the enormity of the events through her. A whole people was staring down the maw of extinction. Within days the Érenni could cease to exist as a species. Akvô housed almost eighty percent of their remaining population. If the planet and the system fell not enough of the peaceful, graceful species would be left to continue the fight. Their remaining colonies would be ripe for the picking. It was a reality Natara had to face.
“We'll do what we can,” Tarek finally stated with a weak nod.
“And what if people just don't care or understand? What if we can't make them feel for the loss and the death going on here?! What can we do then?” The young navigator was becoming agitated.
Tarek was saved from a difficult answer by the intercom buzzing to life.
“Flight deck, still awake?” the Duchess' flat voice called.
“We're here. What's up?” Tarek answered, glad for the distraction.
“I've re-routed power from the ruptured lines, and we've integrated the parts you got from that military chick.” Alexej spoke clearly as he always did on technical issues. “Those Érenni regulators and conduits are much tougher than ours. We only have five rigged into the system, but coupled with our own surviving equipment that should be enough. We can try a full power test any time.”
“Nice work, remind me to find a bonus for ya sometime,” Tarek exhaled a deep sigh of relief. “What about the engines?”
There was a moment of silence. “Well, that's our problem. We haven't got spares for the engines, at least none we can use. I've patched up what wasn't melted, fried or blown apart, but it's still about a quarter of what we should have.”
“Is it enough to enter and navigate the fold?” Tarek asked seriously. Right now getting away was the only issue that really mattered.
“Honestly, I wouldn't recommend it, but yeah, we can scrape through,” Alexej cautiously. “We won't be able to go fast. If we want to keep the warp field stable I wouldn't advise to push her higher than twelve, maybe thirteen hundred.”
The MAIDEN's captain closed his eyes. That wasn't great, but thirteen hundred times the speed of light was better than nothing.
“Still, skipper: the longer we wait, the more I'll be able to shore them up, get us more thrust.”
“Our Maori Dwarf is trying to get his grubby little fingers on some more parts. But it's a sellers' market down there,” Tarek grunted.
“Hey boss,” Rául suddenly spoke up. “We might have a problem.”
“Problem?” Tarek looked up from the intercom and frowned. “Wanna narrow that down a bit?”
“A Dominion warship or twenty?”
“Ah, that kind of problem,” Tarek grimaced, ignoring the cold sweat that suddenly had begun to pour down his back. “Well, I guess the decision's been made for us. Get back up here, we're leaving right now.”
“Hey skipper,” Annie spoke from the engine room. “I want to be caught here in another attack as much as the next guy, but engine problems aside it's at least a six week trip to Van Halen's Star, and that's if we can push her harder than Alexej recommends. Problem is, we haven't refueled yet. We got maybe a couple of days of reaction mass tops left in the tanks.”
“Didn't we buy a crap load of fuel?” Tarek asked in angry confusion.
“Oh, yeah. We did,” Rául nodded with a sour grin. “Paid triple the market price for it and everything. We just haven't gotten around to get filled up yet. The yard's authorities haven't exactly put us high on their priority list.”
“God damn it! Shaitan take those bloody fish heads!” Tarek cursed. “Well, time's up now, people.” He punched the key enabling the general comm system. “Llyr, buddy, you there?”
After a few moments the signal was picked up and the heavily tattooed face of the Tuathaan popped up on the bridge's main screen. “I got ya, skipper,” he replied in accent-free Interlingo. “The negotiations are going well. I can have the engine ducts by the end of the day.”
“No time, haul ass back the MAIDEN. We've gotta make tracks, and fast.”
“That bad?” the Tuathaan's voice dropped.
“That bad,” Winters confirmed grimly. “Half an hour from now we're on our way out of the gravity well, so get a move on.” He ended the transmission.
“I'm getting lots of comm traffic,” Rául reported, headphones pressed against his ears as his console sifted through literally thousands of messages filling the ether. “Mostly chatter on open military frequencies. The Érenni are moving to intercept the scouts.”
“Bit aggressive for them,” the MAIDEN's captain tried to make sense of the picture in his plot. “Well, maybe they're learning.”
“We've still got fuel issues, skipper,” Annie reminded him, this time with more urgency. “Where do we go?”
He called up a starmap on his command console and stared intently at it for a few moments. He knew he had to make a quick decision. Every wasted second was bringing every living soul aboard the MAIDEN closer to a violent demise. “Tanith,” Tarek eventually decided. “If we're trying to get back home it's the next best location to stop. It's outside Republican space, almost a hundred and fifty light-years from Akvô. And it's big enough for us to buy everything we need, maybe even get some yard time before we move on.”
“So we just turn our back on two hundred grand worth of fuel?” Annie said, the annoyance in her voice now outweighing the sense of urgency.
“There is a Dominion scout force in system, people. Our time here's literally up. The Ashani are already on their way;” Tarek stated in a voice that accepted no back talk. “We're leaving, now. So buckle up and keep an eye on the reactor from down there. I'll pilot us out.”
“I just wanna say this is a bad idea boss,” Annie stated.
“This whole thing is one big, bad idea,” Tarek sighed with a smile that barely curled the edges of his mouth. “Let's just get out of here and worry about everything else later, okay?”
Captain Tarek Winters was tired of last minute escapes. This time he planned to be long gone by the time the Dominion showed up, and it seemed the entire planet shared his wish. Streams of smaller ships broke orbit around Akvô and the colonies in the system and made for where the gravity well transition limit ended. The exodus had started, and the wrath would not be far behind.
U.V.S. JOHNSTON, North American Union Navy Cruiser
Foldspace, near the Coalsack Nebula.
The air aboard JOHNSTON had a slight odor of chlorine to it. It wasn't r
eally chlorine, Sammy knew, but it sure smelled like it. The first few hours aboard the cruiser had been awkward for that reason alone. Made one feel like living next to an indoor swimming pool. But, as was the case with every smell, she had gotten used to it rather quickly. Civilian liners were a lot more subtle about the air scrubbing systems they used. The military, in one of the few bouts of rationality the brass showed once in a while, had chosen longevity and ease of use over luxury. Given that a cramped, floating tin can with a few hundred living adults aboard would smell like a locker full of dirty laundry in no time, everybody was more than happy for their presence. On board air scrubbers could usually be repaired with on board spares by a monkey with a paperclip and a blowtorch. Which was about the level of appreciation ground hogs like Sammy could muster for their comrades in the fleet. That sort of professional disdain was mutual, and mostly harmless. Mostly. As with everything, that depended on just who the people in question were.
Lee was well versed in keeping a straight face. She had always had a troublemaker's streak, and only her ability to rigidly control her expressions had kept her out of prison first and the stockade later. She could look as expressionless as a statue. And right now she needed to just do that. It wasn't easy.
Poker was a game by now looking back on a thousand year tradition. It had seen its ups and downs in popularity, but ultimately its variability and mix of being easy to learn but hard to master had kept it alive. That, and the chance to make a quick buck.
Opening Moves Page 32