by Zen DiPietro
She then helped him into his suit. Her hands didn’t shake, and she didn’t feel panicked. She felt really pleased with herself handling all this just as she’d always hoped she’d handle a major crisis.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
“First,” he said, “we’ll eject the unit out into space. Then, you’ll maneuver it out and take it as far as you can, as fast as you can, while remaining within range of all three of the ships. Ideally, we’ll be able to wipe out all of their systems without completely burning ours out.”
Inside the ship, the device would have been difficult to maneuver. Out in space, though, it wouldn’t have gravity or walls to contend with, and the combined power of ten motors would give it some decent speed, for a drone.
Maybe this could actually work.
“And if anyone decides to open fire on it,” she said, “we’ll just activate it.”
“Right. Are you ready?”
She nodded.
“Eject it, but don’t activate it. I want us both sealed in on the bridge before that. I’ll go up and prepare for power loss. I’ll monitor the ships and adjust the drone’s course while you pilot it.”
After they helped each other with their helmets and double-checked their suits to make sure they were secure, Minho went to the bridge.
She loaded the drone device into the airlock then ejected it into space. It silently drifted away from the ship without fanfare.
As soon as she got to the bridge, she carefully put her VR gear on over her helmet. She had to fiddle with the straps to make that work, but eventually found a decent fit. Then she waited for Minho’s signal.
“Now,” he said.
She activated the drone and her vision became that of deep space.
She took a sudden, unexpected breath.
“Something wrong?” Minho asked.
“No. This is just…it’s like I’m just floating through space.” She knew, logically, that the view was only projected on the visor in front of her eyes, but VR images were so all-encompassing that they tended to fool the brain into believing what it saw.
She heard him behind her, calling out coordinates to follow, and she dutifully proceeded on that course. She couldn’t see the pirate ships, but she felt their presence as they bore down on her.
“How long will it take for the drone to get far enough away from us?” she asked.
“At this speed, it would take an hour to get clear.”
“And how far are the ships from pinning us in?”
He said airily, “Oh, about an hour.”
“Great.”
“That’s why I’m going to alter course to move us back from it, as fast as possible.”
“That will mean the other ships will intercept us faster,” she said.
“Yup. But they’ll make a beeline for us, drawing them in closer to one another, while also maximizing our distance from the EMP. Besides, who wants a long, drawn-out conclusion to such an exciting adventure?”
Since she couldn’t see him and therefore couldn’t give him a dirty look, she instead went the juvenile route and made a raspberry sound.
“Here we go,” he said. A moment later, he added, “They’ve altered course. Adjust your x axis by plus two point three degrees.”
She changed the heading. “Done.”
After nearly a minute of silence, she asked, “How far?”
“In terms of time, about fifteen minutes.”
“Any sign they’ve noticed the drone?”
“Not yet,” he answered.
Minutes ticked by and just to put some conversation between them, she asked, “How about now?”
“Same.”
So much for conversation.
Three minutes later, she asked, “When will we set off the EMP?”
“I’m watching the ships. So far, no energy readings suggest they’ve engaged their weapons systems. They’re probably hoping to pen us in and get us to surrender in the hopes that they’ll spare our lives.”
“Who would fall for that?” she scoffed.
“You’d be surprised what people will fall for when the only other option is accepting that they’re about to die.”
“Okay,” he finally said a moment later. “I think this is as far as we should push it. Are you going to watch this from in there or out here?”
She cut the drone’s motors and pulled the VR goggles off her helmet. “There won’t be anything to see. I’ll watch it with you.”
She stood next to him as he sat at the helm and triggered the EMP.
She held her breath.
Sensors showed the two ships closest to the drone blink out, going dark other than a fading glow of residual heat.
Then the lights in the Kiramoto went out. Fallon heard a loud crackling sound that lasted less than a second. The voicecom screen went dark before she could confirm the condition of the third pirate ship.
Minho’s hands flew across the voicecom, but he shook his head. “Everything external is gone.” A moment later, he added, “Everything internal, too. We got toasted, just like those other ships.”
“Did you see the third ship go out?”
“No. But they weren’t much further from it than we were. If we lost everything, then they probably did too.”
Probably.
She didn’t care for his use of that word. More specifically, she didn’t care for the possibility of the improbable.
“So all we can do is wait,” she said.
“Yep. Based on our last known position and that of the Briveen ships, they’ll make it to us within the half-hour. At least we won’t have long to wait.”
“We should move to the docking bay,” she said. “So we can get a look at whoever boards us.”
He smiled faintly. “I was thinking the same thing.”
They armed themselves with stingers and went to watch.
It was a peculiar feeling, not knowing if they were waiting for rescue or for slaughter.
A ship came into view. At first, it was too small to identify. Then it got larger and it was still too small to identify.
Then she saw that it was Briveen.
“If they’re here and not fighting the pirates,” she said, “that means we don’t have to worry about the pirates.”
“Stop stealing my thoughts,” he said. “You’re making this boring. We’re supposed to be a wily duo, always bickering and disagreeing.”
She squinted at him. “Have I ever told you that you’re a strange man?”
She was glad for his odd sense of humor, though.
“Probably.” He didn’t seem to mind.
“I haven’t met any Briveen in person before,” she said. “Have you?”
The reptilian people tended to be xenophobic, and therefore rarely left the Briveen system.
“Yep. If you don’t know the rituals, just bow low at the waist, like you would for an admiral, and stay that way. But keep your eyes up. Not maintaining eye contact is an insult.”
She’d read that once. “I’ve read about the rituals, but I’ve never done them. I’ll leave it all to you.”
They watched the ship, many times larger than theirs, loom and dock.
When three Briveen came through the airlock, one by one, Fallon bowed, keeping her eyes up.
Then she noticed the stingers in their hands.
She jerked upright and reached to grab Minho’s arm and haul him out of the cargo bay. Before she could take a step, her body froze, and she had a sensation of falling while everything went dark.
A hand shook her shoulder roughly.
Fallon groaned and tried to sit up, only to find a hand over her mouth. Everything that had happened flooded back to her and she fought to get free.
At least, she tried to. Her body felt like it was one open wound.
“Easy,” a voice whispered in her ear.
Minho. It was Minho. She relaxed, and the cacophony of pain in her body subsided to a dull, roaring throb.
“I know yo
u’re hurt,” he said. “Those stingers were set for Briveen, not humans. But we have four minutes right now, and we’re not going to get this chance again.”
His arms went around her waist and he gently put her into a standing position.
Her knees buckled.
“Okay. We’ll do it this way.” He crouched down and presented his back to her. “Just lean in and hold on the best you can.”
She wanted to walk, but couldn’t. She did as he told her. “What’s wrong with me?”
He went to the door, already opened, and peeked out cautiously. “Your motor neurons are seriously screwed up right now. It will pass. Now hush.”
He ducked into the corridor and hurried down the left side. She really wanted to ask where they were going, but the pain coursing through her and his order kept her silent.
At the end of the corridor, he entered a lift.
“Two decks down,” he said.
“For what?” She rested her chin on his shoulder.
“Escape pods.”
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m not exactly sure, but these aren’t the Briveen we thought they were.”
“Are they involved in the smuggling?”
“They’re involved in something,” he said. “As soon as they’re sure they know everything we know, they’ll make us disappear. So if we want to remain un-disappeared, we need to get on an escape pod and signal for help.”
“Why aren’t we being guarded?”
“Easy. It didn’t occur to them that a human would be capable of regaining consciousness for at least five minutes, much less being able to walk. I heard one say it would take a couple of days for that.”
She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it. All of this was coming at her too fast, and it wasn’t making sense. “But they’ll just recapture us from the escape pod. It won’t outrun this ship.”
“I have a plan for that. Don’t worry.”
“I have to admit, I’m worrying, just a bit.”
He chuckled and patted her right knee, which was probably digging into his ribs, but he didn’t complain. “Just one more thing for you to tell a great story about—the time you escaped from being a prisoner on a Briveen warship.”
“Sounds like a good story.” She turned her head and laid it on his back, closing her eyes. The lift was spinning, but she was pretty sure that was just her.
She didn’t like how she felt, or that she didn’t fully comprehend what was happening. “How are you fine?”
“You very conveniently made yourself a human shield when you tried to grab me. I barely got touched.”
She’d intended to get him out of the bay, but apparently she’d protected him instead. At least something good had some of it, even if it meant taking all the stinger fire on herself. “But what about getting away from—”
Her words were cut off when the lift opened and he took off running.
She bounced slightly with his every step, and it jarred her pain-wracked body. She concentrated on clamping her mouth shut and not making any noise.
“Here.” He hit a panel and a massive door slowly slid open, revealing a tiny escape pod. He crouched, sitting her up in a chair and strapping her in. “You’ve launched into orbit from a planet’s surface, right?”
“Yeah. Why?” She concentrated on focusing on his face.
“Because this is going to feel a lot like that.” Satisfied with the straps, he nodded and stepped back. “You’re going to pull a lot of G’s to launch this sucker out of here and get some distance from the ship. It’s going to hurt, in the shape you’re in. Hang in there. It will only last a few minutes, and then you’ll be fine. It’s just nerve pain, not actual injury. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He stepped back. “Remember what I said about taking care of your team. I’m glad I got to work with you. You gave me a chance to right the wrong I made with my own team.”
“What?” Did he think they weren’t going to make it, despite what he’d just said?
“We’re out of time. Here we go.” He stepped backward, back into the corridor. He held his hand up in an okay sign and the doors closed with her inside and him outside.
“No! Wait! Minho!” she cried, reaching for her straps to release them.
The weight of the universe crashed down on her and she couldn’t move.
He’d launched her. He’d launched her, and stayed behind.
She clenched her jaw against the electrical storm of pain in her body, and the horror of what he was about to do.
He hadn’t made an okay gesture. He’d been holding the little marble of brivinium between his thumb and forefinger.
A few minutes could feel like forever. But finally, the pressure on her body eased and she went weightless. The pain immediately eased to a dull ache and she reached for the voicecom terminal built into her seat.
There. She saw the ship. It was fine. She’d misinterpreted what she’d seen. He probably just wanted her out of the way so he could fight for control of the ship without the Briveen using her against him.
The ship flew apart in a bright light that flared, then almost immediately went dark. A minute later, her pod shivered around her and there was a sound like gravel hitting a window. The voicecom went blank, and all she could do was sit and listen to the debris.
Fallon learned to hate the words, “Good work,” and, “Well done.”
A series of debriefings had let her spool out everything she had experienced over the past ten months. Fallon learned about Lydecker’s smuggling operation and how deeply it had gone. He had apparently intended to support a Briveen radicalist splinter cell, in order to amass unfathomable wealth along with an untouchable position on Briv.
Stupid. Those weren’t things that were worth people’s lives.
She listened to Admiral Krazinski with a sense of detachment. She had no official duties for the time being, and though her body had been healed on the ship that had answered the escape pod’s beacon, she felt like her shoes were full of lead.
She took her meals in her room and remained there whenever her presence wasn’t requested on official business.
The porthole in her quarters remained closed. She’d seen enough of space while drifting around in it for days, waiting for rescue.
Her belongings from Asimov Station had already been delivered. She’d put them, unopened, into a small closet.
Asimov had a new captain now. Some senior staff had been replaced, too. Katheryn and Priestley had received promotions.
Pacing around her quarters, she poured herself a cup of water, then ignored it. Usually, she engaged in hard exercise to clear her head and restore her focus, but she had no interest in it.
Nothing interested her.
She started to sit on the couch, but straightened when her door chime sounded.
What now? She was tired of people’s well-intentioned offers to go eat or enjoy the boardwalk. They thought she was a transitionary security officer, waiting for her next position.
She didn’t want to know them.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled her facial features up into a pleasant expression and opened the door.
When she saw her visitor, her mouth parted slightly in surprise. All of her artifice fell away and she suddenly felt raw and exposed.
“Going to let me in?” Hawk asked.
She stepped backward, giving him space to enter. He did, then doors closed behind him.
He looked the same. Same reddish-brown hair in the same short style. Maybe just a bit more tanned. Same build. Everything was the same, except for his blue-gray eyes. They’d always been hard, but the hardness seemed to have been sharpened to an edge.
“Bad, huh?” he asked.
Krazinski had ordered her not to share information about her mission with her team. No doubt he’d received the same orders.
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
He nodded slightly. “Pretty bad.”
“Yeah,” she echoe
d, softly.
There was nothing else that really needed to be said.
He raised an arm, curved at the elbow, and without hesitation, she moved in and put her arms around him. His arms closed around her.
Fallon’s quarters on Jamestown were small, but by tacit agreement, Hawk stayed in them with her. They watched holo-vids, stayed up late at the pub, and slept in the only bed her quarters offered.
For the first time since arriving on Jamestown, she began sleeping through the night.
She tried teaching him to play chess, but he complained and accused her of cheating every time she executed a gambit, so they gave it up.
It made her laugh, though.
Three weeks after Hawk’s arrival, they were arguing over whose turn it was to buy dinner when the door chime interrupted.
“Answer that,” Fallon called, retreating to the necessary.
When she emerged, Hawk was standing at the door, blocking it, and not saying anything. Fallon nudged him aside so she could look.
Peregrine, looking just the same, with her hair in its customary long blond ponytail, looked at Fallon and smiled.
A big smile.
Fallon didn’t even have to ask if things had been hard on her. That smile had said it all.
“What’s good to eat here?” Per asked. “I’m starved.”
“Why aren’t you two wearing your bracelets?” Peregrine asked as they shoveled Bennite stew into their mouths and talked a lot without saying anything of consequence.
“I wasn’t allowed to take anything personal,” Fallon said. “I sent it here.”
“And?” Peregrine prompted.
“Nothing. I’ll go get it right now.” Fallon wiped her mouth and prepared to stand.
Peregrine caught her arm. “We can go after we’re done eating.”
She fixed Hawk with a look. “So what’s your excuse?”
“Uh,” he said, “same as hers.”
Peregrine shook her head as if disgusted, but Fallon saw the subtle signs of her partner’s amusement.
Admiral Krazinski hadn’t told Fallon when Raptor would arrive, but she’d assumed it would be within days, or maybe a week or two. She, Hawk, and Peregrine developed a routine of getting up, working out, having breakfast, then moving through the rest of the day.