Almon colored a little. “It’s not just that. You didn’t see how he fought us for Engineering. As misled as the boy is, he is still brave.”
Zemos nodded. “He does possess honor. I will inform Matara Elisa and see if she’s willing to talk to him.” Before Almon could return to his post, the Dramok added, “Lieutenant, you might warn Walker that I will not put up with any berating, if that is what he hopes to do. His beliefs do not give him the right to judge her.”
Almon bowed. “I will make sure he is aware of it. With the captain’s permission, I would be glad to mete out any punishment the boy deserves.”
Zemos had a hard time controlling the grin that wanted to stretch his mouth. Almon was definitely infatuated with Joseph Walker. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
As Almon went back to guarding the Earther, Zemos joined Elisa and Miragin.
* * * *
Elisa watched Zemos approach, her throat aching. If Miragin’s trembling arm hadn’t been tight around her shoulders, she might have spouted tears after watching Oret leave. She couldn’t imagine how Zemos stood issuing the orders that could get his Nobek killed. She supposed the Dramok had come to terms with the necessity years ago.
He drew near, and she managed a tight smile. “Oret is off to save the day again.”
Zemos put his palms on her and Miragin’s cheeks, comforting them. “If there is anyone in this universe no one needs to worry about, it is that Nobek.”
Elisa cocked a brow at him. “Does that keep you from feeling anxious?”
“Not for one second,” he answered with feeling.
They all smiled then. Miragin even chuckled, though the sound was strained.
Zemos’ touch went to Elisa’s shoulder, his momentary humor dropping off as he gazed at her. “Captain Walker would like to speak to you.”
Momentary fear stabbed in her heart. She swallowed hard. “I can imagine what he wants to say.”
“The guards believe he wishes to make an apology.”
Elisa snorted disbelieving laughter. “That can’t be right. I’ve admitted I wish to return to Kalquor with you and remain with your clan. This is reprehensible behavior as far as Earthers are concerned. As my captain, it would be his duty to call a trial and have me executed.”
Zemos squeezed her shoulder. “He hasn’t got the power to do any such thing now. You do not have to talk to him if you don’t want. I was merely passing along the message.”
Elisa had thought as her Dramok, Zemos might make such decisions on her behalf. He had a paternalistic streak a mile wide when it came to her. It made Elisa feel good that he wasn’t so overbearing as to think he could control her every move. She felt as if he not only acknowledged her strength but supported it too.
Elisa turned her gaze to Walker, standing in his corner with his guards. He looked so young and defenseless among those big, hard-faced Nobeks ... a scared little boy in the clutches of trained killers. However, it wasn’t just fear on his expression as he looked back at her. Joseph Walker looked like someone who had lost everything and could only look forward to more unmitigated agony.
Elisa felt sorry for the man. He had always been kind to her, never failing to ask what he could do to make her life easier as the sole woman on board the battlecruiser. It could be his kindness would fail now that she had turned her back on him and the rest of his crew. It could be he would accuse her of lust and sin, which she was guilty of. However, Elisa couldn’t leave him alone as he was now, feeling as she had for most of her life: without a friend in the universe.
She sighed and gazed up a Zemos. “I’m an idiot to do this, but I’ll hear what he has to say. He took up for me too many times for me to ignore him right now.”
The Dramok nodded. He gave Elisa no indication of what he felt about her decision. He simply stood aside, giving her room to pass and motioning Miragin to do the same.
Elisa straightened her shoulders. Setting herself for whatever verbal abuse might be slung, she walked straight up to Captain Walker.
The lost look on his face was chased back by a trembling smile when she stopped before him. In a rush, as if afraid she would stop him before he could get everything out, Walker said, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you are still alive, Elisa. I wanted to apologize for letting things get to the point where the others would see you die rather than save you.”
Elisa blinked, absorbing the import of his words. When she got it and realized he wasn’t about to go into a rant of accusations and belittlement, her whole manner eased.
Letting her sympathy for his situation show, Elisa said, “That isn’t your fault, Captain. You can’t dictate others’ thoughts or beliefs.”
“There have been those that have tried pretty damned hard to do so, though.” He hung his head. Elisa was startled to see that instead of wanting to shame her, Walker was ashamed of himself. His voice barely more than a whisper, he said, “It’s always been easier to go along with what others have told me to do. All I wanted was for them to approve of me, to show me I was worth something. I didn’t even want to be the captain of this hunk of metal because I knew I’d be no good at it.”
Elisa took one of his hands. It was cold and almost lifeless in her grip, as if Walker had no strength. She said, “You were the best choice for a leader after Captain Drummond killed himself. That’s why we chose you and why you took on the responsibility.”
He shook his head. “I did it because I was told I had to. I did it because it was what everyone else wanted from me.” Walker looked up at her, and the lost expression in his eyes nearly made Elisa cry. He said, “Trying to save you was the first time I ever acted on my own beliefs. The funny thing about that was, you didn’t need to be saved by me, because somebody else had already come to the rescue. The one time I was strong was a waste. How’s that for a kick in the ass?”
Elisa didn’t have anything to comfort him with, because he was right. Clan Zemos had saved her, not Captain Walker.
All she could manage for Walker was a lame-sounding platitude. “You’re a good man. I’ve always known that.”
“I could have been better.”
Zemos’ voice was gentle as he was moved to interrupt their conversation. “Captain Walker, forgive me for interjecting, but I want you to know my feelings on the matter.”
Walker straightened and looked at his Kalquorian counterpart. His jaw tight, he said, “Go ahead, Captain Zemos.”
Zemos gave him the patient, paternal look he was so good at. “Joseph, you were faced with unthinkable circumstances. First a war, then the destruction of your planet, and then having to assume command of a ship full of renegades, some of whom were against you. A command that you allege you never aspired to.”
Walker shook his head. “I didn’t want this damned death ship. It was bad enough when they took me from my supply vessel and made me first officer here. Being captain was the last thing I ever wanted.”
Zemos gave him a grim smile. “Yet you did your best with what was expected of you, and you never lost your humanity. Others have done worse.”
The Earther made a sound that was probably supposed to be laughter. It sounded like a sob.
Zemos said, “I promise that if we get through this and you are put on trial, I will speak on your behalf. As Elisa says, you are at heart a good man. You’ve just made some very bad decisions that have cost us all.”
Walker stared at the Dramok. In the terrible despondency of his expression, Elisa saw a small glimmer of hope. “You’d do that after all this?”
Zemos put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You were put in a position that you were too young and inexperienced to handle. Of course there would be errors in your judgment. I do not fault you for that.”
Walker drew a breath. “Thank you, Captain Zemos. I hope you will also accept my apologies for what I’ve done to you, your crew, and your clan.” He glanced at Elisa. “Promise you’ll take care of her. Of us all, she’s the real victim in all this.”
Zemos affirmed, “With my last breath.”
Walker nodded. Elisa squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, smiling at her with his blue eyes brightened by tears. Yes, he did deserve a chance. More than a chance; Joseph Walker deserved a real life. To herself, Elisa vowed that she would see to it Zemos kept his promise and spoke up on Walker’s behalf.
* * * *
Oret reached the engine room, a veritable cavern filled with an enormous stretch of humming machinery. He blinked from the service tunnel’s opening as his sensitive sight pierced the dim lighting. By the ancestors, the battlecruiser’s guts were a monstrosity. Seeing the inefficient mix of computers and working mechanisms didn’t cancel out his awe. The engines were astounding for their sheer size.
He eased into the room, looking and listening for any sign of the Earther crew. Smells assailed him: grease, oils, and even the almost-forgotten sweat and musk of living men that had occasioned these environs. For now, however, the guts of the ship seemed to be empty of life. Engineering, the vessel’s heart, was the next room over, located on the other side of the engine room’s far wall. That was where the main focus of the Earthers should be as they tried to wrest navigation and control back. However, the engines themselves seemed to be unguarded.
His team of six Nobeks followed him in, gazing around and ready to fight. “Check for guards and report back to me,” Oret said. They were gone almost before he finished speaking.
Seconds later, they returned and gave him the news: the Kalquorian team had the engine room to themselves. They were free to commit all the havoc and destruction they could manage before their enemies were alerted to their presence.
One told Oret, “There are four doors into this room.”
He told them, “One of you to watch each, the other two with me.”
Four men peeled off. As they did so, Oret went to the assortment of hand tools hanging with neat precision on the wall nearby. He considered before tucking wrenches, hammers, and cutting tools in his belt. His two remaining men followed suit. Armed with these primitive pieces and with the two men at his back, Oret went to the dozens of tubes suspended overhead in the middle of the room.
A phenomenal waste of power accompanied the employment of a mix of computer and mechanized systems. However, the Earther use of such configurations had been among their best defenses against the Kalquorians during the war. Even with frequency jamming and computer viruses, the Kalquorians could not remotely shut down an Earther ship’s systems for any appreciable time. Mechanical parts did not respond to modern jamming fields. Even if their computers went offline, the Earthers were quite adept at executing work-arounds that ensured their engines ran. Oret had known his efforts at killing off the ship using Engineering’s computer commands would only be a temporary solution.
However, the Nobek was now physically present in the belly of the ship. He and his fellow interlopers would be getting their hands on the actual working parts, hopefully stopping the vessel dead for as long as it took the Empire’s fleet to find it. It would be the final injury from which the battlecruiser could not recover from in time.
Oret looked at the configuration of tubes suspended horizontally over his head. He counted seven larger ones, side by side, the circumference of each large enough to fit two men within. Dozens of smaller tubes as big around as his thigh flanked them. He dismissed the smaller ones. Captured vessels had revealed those ran primitive fiber optic wiring, feeding commands and power throughout the ship. Oret wanted to stop the real heartbeat of this vessel.
He jumped up, managing to get a good grip on the smaller tubes, and used them to haul himself up on top of the metal casings. His two men clambered up with him and followed as he crawled to the first of the larger tubes.
This was what he wanted, all right. The hum of the thing vibrated through his body. It was like sitting on a growling zibger, making his teeth click together with its power.
Oret pointed to an access hatch on the conduit, which would open to the working parts that moved the ship. “I want you to each access another tube. We’ll start tearing up the engines at the same time. If you come across computer components, smash them. If the pieces are moving machinery, jam them and break off what you can.”
“Blasters?” one of the men asked.
Oret shook his head and patted the tools he’d taken from the wall and hung on his belt. “They’d hear those from the next room, even over the engines. Use hands and tools only. As long as some of the machines are running, they’ll help mask the sounds of our activities. It could be the Earthers won’t realize right away that the damage is physical.” He grinned savagely. “Ready? All right, let’s kill this bucket.”
They nodded, their fierce, eager smiles answering his. One climbed over to the tube next to Oret’s, and the second man went to the next one. They watched as Oret pulled the field disrupter he’d taken from Coombs and used it to unlock the hatch on the tube he straddled.
It slid away, opening an area half his body-length. Moving parts moved in a complicated ballet of physical motion: gears and pistons much like those Oret had seen in the most primitive of machines. There were also tethered plaits of wires running throughout and disks covered with tiny computers no larger than his fingernail. The sheer complexity of the ship’s inner workings would have boggled Oret’s mind had he had the time to consider this strange and amazing mishmash of older and newer technology banded together.
He did not have that time. He handed off the disruptor to the man straddling the tube next to him. That Nobek also opened his hatch and passed the disruptor on to the next man, who followed suit.
Oret pulled a wrench from his belt. He looked at his men and gave them the hand signal for ‘kill’. Then he jammed the wrench into the moving parts before him.
The gears and pistons locked up immediately. A grating sound issued from the tube, and Oret smelled something burning. Then the strident blare of an alarm went off.
Oret wasted no time, knowing there was none to waste. He yanked and smashed and tore at the components as fast as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his men doing the same. More alarms sounded, blasting at his ears.
Heavy smoke had started billowing from his tube. Satisfied with this part’s destruction for the moment, Oret leapt up and ran across tubes to get to the next one not yet under attack. He held out his hand to the Nobek next to him. “Disrupter!”
It slapped into his palm. That man went on to the next available tube, as did the second Nobek. Oret was smiling as he unlocked the hatch before him. Handing the disruptor off again, reaching into the tube, and taking its innards apart, he took great pleasure in his work.
Wanton destruction wasn’t like spilling the blood of a hated enemy, but it was still damned fun.
Chapter 20
Lieutenant Commander Robards had gone from miserable exhaustion to punch-drunk exhaustion. That was why his voice came out so high-pitched and giddy as he called to Chase, “Ha! Internal tracking sensors are up. Now I can find the bastards—”
The steady hum of some of the cruiser’s engines abruptly cut off and the lights in Engineering dimmed to near darkness. Robards’ glee sliced cleanly off with the engines. He could hear alarms going off in the distance and recognized the claxons came from the engine room itself.
The vid in front of him flickered as backup power not dependent on the main grid fired up. Engineering’s lights brightened again, but more engines went silent. Seconds later, there was only the peal of the sirens in the next chamber.
Chase scowled at everyone around him. “Now what?”
The delirious joy Robards had felt was gone as he snapped at a haggard-looking member of the engineering crew. “Bring up engine diagnostics.”
The crewman’s hands flew over his keyboard. The blankness of his vid answered before he did. “I can’t, sir. We still don’t have diagnostic functions back yet.”
Robards could have screamed his rage. He had nothing now but life support indicators and internal
tracking sensors, neither of which were any help to do with the engines. He brought up the sensor readings in the engine room, knowing damned well they wouldn’t show him what ailed the cruiser’s power. He had to do something though, or he’d end up pounding the computer in front of him like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum.
Robards looked at the readouts, absurdly hating the ship and wishing he could make it sense pain in revenge for driving him crazy. Epitaphs crowded his head as he mentally ranted at it. Fucking stupid cruiser, piece of shit that was ripped too easily from our control, ridiculous metal cunt—
He stared. His breath froze in his chest. His eyes grew so wide he felt like they might fall right out of his head.
“Fuck,” he said loudly.
He sensed rather than saw Chase give him an affronted glare. “Mr. Robards!” the first officer said in a warning tone.
Robards ignored the remonstration. He turned towards the wall that separated Engineering from the engine room, as if he might be able to see through the partition to what was happening beyond.
“They’re in the engine room itself. The Kalqs are attacking the engines!”
His cry set off panicked yells from the crew. Everyone stood still as they absorbed the news.
Then one of the men standing near Chase and Robards, that sly little weasel Ensign Remington, broke. “They’ll blow the ship! We’ve got to evacuate!” he shrieked.
Remington, who had always exhibited bravado in Robards’ presence, who had promised Robards again and again that he’d be glad to personally execute all the Kalquorian prisoners if they got out of line ... Remington ran. He took off for the door, apparently intending to escape right then and there. Two other men, their faces pale, started to run too. Terror fell over the room’s atmosphere, and Robards knew in a matter of moments there would be a mass exodus.
Remington was halfway to the door when a percussion blaster went off, echoing in the room. Remington hit the floor, everything between his shoulder blades vaporized. Everyone froze again as the sound of the shot faded. All eyes, including Robards’, turned to Commander Chase.
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