by B. V. Larson
“Perhaps,” she said, “but we didn’t know what had happened to them.”
“I think that you did. You and the rest of them, those of our family who’ve held power over the last century. You had to know in your heart what was going on out here. Barbarism. Genocide.”
“Why do you think I volunteered to come on this mission?” she demanded suddenly. “I’m old, nephew, but I remember these places from my youth. It’s strange to see them in person—and sad, I’ll admit it. But the best we can do is explore, reconnect, offer trade and diplomatic discourse.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “We owe them more than that. They’re our abandoned children. We must establish order out here if we can.”
She heaved a sigh. “That’s an expensive, painful task to undertake. You may not realize what you’re getting yourself into, William.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I’m through hiding from our past and shirking Earth’s duty. We’re going to end the Stroj hunts in this system for starters.”
Moving decisively, I walked out of my office. She called after me, but I ignored her and headed for the command deck. My mood was dark, and I felt the outraged betrayal of all the souls who’d died on these worlds as if it had happened to me personally.
We’d abandoned our own, forgotten about them. It was unconscionable. How could my own relatives be responsible for such misery?
-27-
After streaking across the system, we broke through the membrane between two forms of existence and entered hyperspace.
Normally, at this point, we’d immediately begin seeking a way out. But this time I had different ideas.
“First Officer Durris, drop the first probe now.”
He looked surprised. “We just crossed into hyperspace, sir. We need to gain some distance so we have two points of reference—”
“I know all that, Durris. Drop the probe, but don’t bother to drop any more of them. I’m working a strategy, here.”
He did as I ordered. My staff exchanged glances and shrugs, but they obeyed.
I’d yet to take them all into my confidence. I suspected some of them might object to my plan, so I waited to inform them of its nature.
After flying for several hours, I did the unexpected again. I ordered the helm to reverse course and head back toward the initial probe.
This baffled everyone. “But sir, we’re moving at speed. We’ll have to counter all our inertia and come to a full stop before we can even begin to backtrack—”
“I’m well aware of the procedure, Durris,” I said. “Please follow orders.”
My crew did as I’d ordered, and ten hours later we were crawling back toward the bridge point we’d crossed the first time.
I took the time to sleep in my cabin. I hadn’t had a good sleep for days. The horrors of the colonists, both current and past, haunted my dreams. My mind was full of massive unseen monsters, villagers being slaughtered, and lovely vistas seen from mountain peaks.
It was the second or third chime at my door that awakened me at last. Suspecting there must be a systems problem, I staggered to the entrance and touched the wall.
It dissolved to reveal an unexpected figure. Zye stood there. She wore an uncharacteristic expression of concern. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing deliberate.
“What is it, Zye?” I asked. “Is there trouble with the ship?”
“Not that I know of,” she said.
“Well then, what—oh…”
She let her tunic slide open and revealed herself. “I thought this might be a good time,” she said. “If you’re not too tired, that is—”
“Come in here before someone sees you in the passage,” I urged.
She stepped into my cabin and shed her clothing. Without a stitch on, or any hint of embarrassment, she walked over and sat on my bunk, looking at me expectantly.
My eyes roved over her imposing breasts. They were faultless. But, since she was a statuesque woman, they were somewhat astonishing.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m surprised that’s all.”
“It was my understanding that males are always ready for a spontaneous sexual encounter.”
I laughed. “Well, there’s some truth to that,” I said, “but we can still be taken by surprise. We have to be ready—in the mood.”
“I’m in the mood now,” she said.
For some reason, her brutal honesty and nakedness was daunting to me. I realized then I’d made a mistake when I’d started this whole thing between the two of us. We were so different. We had different expectations. Additionally, we were breaking unwritten rules. In Star Guard, fraternization wasn’t forbidden, but it was frowned upon.
“You do not desire me?” Zye asked.
“What? No, not at all. You’re perfect, in fact.”
“But overwhelming? Threatening?”
She was right, but I knew I couldn’t let her know that. She was already picking up on my hesitancy.
“Zye, we have to talk,” I said.
There it was. The classic beginning of a break-up conversation. Unfortunately, Zye didn’t even recognize the signs. She’d never had a break-up before.
“We are talking,” she said flatly.
Suddenly, the magnitude of the error I’d made by bedding Zye some days earlier was crashing down upon me. She might be devastated. I might have screwed up what was an otherwise excellent working relationship.
“Right…” I began, sitting on the bunk next to her, “what I mean is that I don’t think we’re compatible in the long term. We had a moment, and—”
“I’m unappealing to you,” she said, standing abruptly. “I suspected this might be the case. I’ve studied the human ideals in female anatomy. My height of two meters falls well outside the usual parameters indicated by my research.”
My hands came up defensively. “You aren’t unappealing. You’re actually perfectly proportioned. Large, yes, but that’s something many men can overcome.”
“Hmm…” she said thoughtfully. “That’s what Norrick said. His word-choice was almost identical. Did you confer with him on this topic?”
Blinking, I shook my head. “Are you talking about Ensign Norrick? The new man in the life support module?”
“Yes. He’s the only Norrick aboard, I believe.”
“Of course… how did this topic come up with him?”
“During our sexual event last night, I asked him if he was pleased with me. He insisted I was perfectly proportioned, as you just did.”
I was my turn to stare in shock and confusion. “You slept with him? Last night?”
“I’m sorry if you’re offended,” she said. She reached out a hand and patted mine in what I took to be a clumsy effort to be comforting.
“I’m not—well—this is unexpected. You’ve slept with another man so soon?”
“You were unavailable. You spend most of your time on the command deck, you know. After our first encounter, I found I couldn’t stop thinking about the next. Eventually, I grew tired of waiting and sought out companionship elsewhere.”
My mouth was hanging open. I closed it with an effort.
“Right…” I said, grasping the situation at last. “Well, I’m happy for you Zye. I want you to enjoy yourself with Norrick. He’s a fine young man.”
“He’s a year older than you are, actually.”
I sighed. She wasn’t the best at tact. “What I mean is we had a nice time once, and we’ve moved on. That’s all right with me.”
“You’ve moved on? Meaning, you have a new partner?”
“No,” I said. “Not yet. As you said, I’ve been busy.”
She frowned. “I’m glad you helped me get over my initial reluctance and fear of rejection. After we finally mated, I felt much less tense about subsequent encounters.”
I was pretty sure she meant she was no longer hung up on me. That could only be a good thing.
Smiling, we stood up, and
I gave her a hug. Our contact lingered. She was close, and nude, and the tension and worries of the day had faded from my mind. As her touch began to get my undivided attention, we separated. I fully expected her to put on her clothes and leave.
Instead, she headed to my tiny liquor cabinet and brought out a bottle and two shot glasses. She poured without asking.
“Zye…” I said, “I thought we were breaking up.”
“I didn’t come here to break up.”
“What about Norrick?”
She shrugged. “Let’s forget about him and drink one glass to our newfound understanding.”
What could I do? I drank the shot. Then we had another. By the fourth, we were back on my bunk, and by the fifth—well, it was all over.
Lying next to Zye an hour later, confused and amused at the same time, I fell asleep.
* * *
When I strode back onto the command deck, the ship was less than an hour away from the breach. Looking over the ship’s speed and course, I frowned.
“First Officer Durris!” I boomed.
He stepped in my direction. He had a look on his face, one that told me the tale.
“Yes, sir?”
“Are you the one who altered our plan of attack?”
“Not at all, sir. I simply reduced our speed to normal breakthrough levels.”
“Could you see me in my office—immediately?”
I turned and left him standing there. He had no choice but to follow me.
Taking deep breaths, I tried to calm myself. Durris hadn’t been down there on Sapphire. He hadn’t seen what our colonists had become. He hadn’t realized, either, that my own family members bore some level of responsibility for the situation.
“Sir?” he asked, standing in the doorway. “I can explain.”
I waved for him enter then touched my desk, causing the door to coalesce behind him.
“You were saying?” I prompted. “Why are we traveling more slowly than I ordered?”
“High-speed breaching is dangerous, sir. I know that you briefed us yesterday on the possibility of pirate Stroj hiding in the system somewhere, but I—”
“My orders weren’t followed while I was off-duty,” I said. “That’s unacceptable.”
“Captain, you briefed us yesterday on your plan. I know you want to break through into the system again at high speed. Using only inertia, we’ll glide back toward the target worlds, looking for the enemy without drawing attention to ourselves by using our engines.”
In space, a ship’s engines were like beacons in the night. A large starship could produce a trail of exhaust and radiation resembling that of a comet and was therefore easily identified. Gliding without thrust, however, made any ship fairly stealthy and difficult to detect.
“Why are you obstructing my goals?” I asked him.
His mouth worked for a second. He squirmed visibly. “I’m sorry sir. This situation is impossible. I don’t know who this ship’s master is. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him for a second. “Lady Grantholm…? Let me guess: she came to you, and she changed my orders while I was off the deck.”
“I did not tell you that, sir,” he said quickly, looking down.
“No, you didn’t,” I said. “I figured it out for myself.”
Walking to the far wall, I swept my hand over it. A portal opened. It was frosted and heavily shielded with lead. Beyond the glass itself, electromagnetic shells of force protected my eyes—but it was still an actual window onto space itself.
Hyperspace was outside. There was nothing else.
“So bleak,” I said. “Hyperspace makes normal space look bright, cheery and full of objects.”
“Really sir, I couldn’t do anything. Why did CENTCOM put us in this situation? Why didn’t they simply trust you with full command?”
It was a good question, and I thought I knew the answer.
“Did you know my aunt—excuse me, the Ambassador—recognized this star system the moment she saw it?”
Durris looked at me. “No sir… how’s that possible?”
“Because she was alive when the news came of this system’s discovery. Think of it—a woman among us who is so ancient she recalls watching the colony ships lift off with her own eyes...”
“That’s an amazing concept, sir,” Durris said. “I didn’t know any of the oldsters who are still around dated back that far.”
I continued to stare out the window at nothing. Gamma particles sparked now and then, striking the ship at tremendous speeds. Even though hyperspace was empty, there were radiation belts now and then. Possibly, they were echoes of the exhaust of past ships that had crossed this lonely bridge.
“I should have known the second I saw the course corrections that it was her doing,” I told Durris. “Get back out there and fix this. Dismissed.”
He left. Once he was gone, I summoned my aunt.
She was in a bad mood from the moment she entered my office—but I no longer cared about her mood.
“Aunt Helen,” I said to her, still staring into the endless dark, “please sit down.”
She did so, but she muttered something behind my back.
I turned to fix her with angry eyes.
“Yes, yes,” she said. “I adjusted your plan of attack. I’m so sorry. But unless we’re in combat, Star Guard put me in command. It was my prerogative.”
“That’s debatable,” I said, “but in any case, why did you do it?”
She leaned forward. “William, I’m here to make contact. I’m here to open diplomatic channels. Blasting apart colonist ships—any colonist ships—is not part of my stated mission.”
It took me a second to get it.
“Star Guard wishes to open diplomatic relations with the Stroj? Is that it?”
“Yes, of course. It’s not a popular idea back home, but it’s necessary. You’re flying a starship—you really should try to grow up.”
“By ‘growing up’, I take it you mean I should turn a blind eye to pain and suffering? That I should sell out these colonists as hunting trophies if it buys Earth some years of peace?”
“Exactly,” she said in a patient tone. “Earth is weak right now. We’ve begun to expand our military budgets, but it can’t all be done in a year or two. We need to talk with the Stroj, to put them at ease until we can rebuild our fleets.”
I shook my head. “I know the Stroj better than most. It won’t work. They can’t be dissuaded that way. In fact, showing weakness will only encourage them. They must fear us, Lady, or we are lost.”
“Defending your ship is one thing, but the Stroj ran and they got away. Let them be, William. I’m pleading with you.”
I gave her a dark and silent glare.
She frowned fiercely in return. “I can see by your attitude you don’t agree,” she said. “Therefore, you’re forced my hand. I hereby forbid you to attack the Stroj!”
“Under what authority?”
“You read our orders.”
“Yes, I did,” I said. “I read it very carefully. You’re in overall command, and when we’re not in combat, that’s clear. But this is a combat situation. I’ve deemed it so, and I’ve logged the supporting data.”
She stood up. “What! You can’t just decide that arbitrarily.”
“Wrong,” I said, pushing a computer scroll of my own toward her with the orders printed on them. “You should read the seventh paragraph—the determination of immediate danger is mine to make. I’ve made it.”
She didn’t bother to read the document. She shoved it back toward me instead, with such force that it flew onto the floor.
“They said you’d be unmanageable, but I truly had no idea. Very well, William. We’ll let Star Guard decide your fate when we return home.”
She left then, in a huff. I didn’t watch her go. Instead, I turned back to the portal and watched hyperspace slide by until we were close to the breach.
I could feel the G forces building all the while. Durris had gone back to
the bridge and begun a heavy acceleration curve, getting us back up to speed.
In the final minutes, I stepped out of my office and took my spot in the command chair. Calmly, avoiding eye contact with my confused staffers, I stared straight ahead until we hit the barrier and passed through it.
-28-
Back in normal space, I felt relieved to see stars again. There was something oppressive and unnatural about hyperspace. It felt as if you were dreaming—but still awake.
“No obstacles, sir,” Durris reported immediately. “Everything is smooth and quiet.”
“All engines are stopped? No transmissions?”
“We’re running silent, sir, as ordered.”
Finally satisfied, I leaned back in my chair and watched the screens. Everyone on the deck was doing the same.
Now and then, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder toward the main passage. People came and went. Most of them were powder-monkeys—an old naval term we still used for crewmen running errands.
None of them turned out to be my aunt, and for that, I was grateful.
I’d pulled my final card with her. She was now on notice. There wasn’t going to be any more rolling over and taking orders unless the situation was appropriate.
It occurred to me that I probably should have pulled this right from the start of the mission. Declaring that the entire length of the mission was hazardous and therefore placing myself in full command on the first day would have saved a lot of headaches.
But then again… I kept glancing back at the hatchway. Another powder-monkey rushed in, delivering coffee to the navigational team.
Turning back to the screens, I sighed. I had my aunt corralled, but how long would that last?
Hours passed. During that time, we plunged at an oblique angle back toward the inner planets. Our course was less than ideal. When coming out of hyperspace, it wasn’t possible to measure with precision where you would be headed when you got there.
As a result, Jade was the closest to our current projections. Sapphire was slowly sliding away from us, slipping around to the far side of the star. I thought about using our steering jets, but I didn’t dare. We didn’t want to scare our pirates.