Brax watched as over eighty of the Concord vessels flew from their position, heading toward the thick blots of the warships on the radar.
____________
Doctor Nee was beside himself. The medispray had been working. The results had been only temporary, and now everyone originally infected had returned as sick as ever. “I don’t understand. We had it right, Kelli.”
Her hair was pulled into a frizzy ponytail, her eyes lined and puffy even though she’d managed not to catch the illness. She wore the protective gear, as did the other helpers like Belna, but he found the medical bay with more occupants than it was created to handle.
The door opened and the captain strode in, his hand around a thin girl’s arm. Nee had never seen the teen before, and she glanced around the room with fear in her eyes.
“Captain…” Nee saw the fever raging in Tom, and his shoulders slumped. They needed to get a handle on this.
“I caught it. The girl, Ina, will tell you everything she knows, but I don’t think it will be enough.” Tom coughed and staggered, setting a hand on the table ledge to steady himself.
Once Ina explained the Statu’s plan, Nee rubbed his gloves together. So they’d hidden something inside it, a secondary level of infection. Doctor Nee had had to work twice as hard as all the other medical students at the Academy, being a Kwant. No one had wanted to partner with him, always fearful that he would touch them with his skin, killing them with his poison.
He’d grown to accept it as a challenge, and eventually, he made friends. By the time he was at his first posting, he had a reputation as a funny and charming doctor, as well as somewhat of a genius when it came to rare Concord partner diseases. Most of their medical field only worried about the Founders’ illnesses, because that was who they would primarily be attending to on the Concord cruise ships.
Nee took the time to study all major viruses, infections, cancers, and organ diseases as he could in his spare time, and he ran across the room now, activating his cross-reference database. He’d carefully curated the information over the last decade or so, and he chided himself for not thinking of this sooner. The original results had come back with such clarity, he hadn’t questioned the data.
He peered over his shoulder at Tom, who looked like he was about to expire at any moment. With a battle about to commence out in space, Nee heard the ticking of the seconds in his mind as he entered the details into the system once again, anxious to find a solution.
____________
The trip had taken just as long as before, and Treena realized it didn’t matter what size your ship was or the speed your engines were set at; traversing the wormhole took ten minutes, give or take a few seconds.
She let out a cheer and patted herself on the legs, making sure she was still in one piece. The shuttle groaned and creaked, but the system showed it was sealed and operational.
Treena closed her eyes, concentrating on transferring the message from her real body back to Tarlen in her room on Constantine.
“Tarlen, are you there?” she asked in her mind. It would relay through the speakers on her bed.
“I’m here.” She felt a slight touch on her hand and assumed the boy was holding hers as her comatose body lay there.
“I made it through. I’m heading for Earon now,” she told him, ready to break contact when he said something quickly.
“The captain is sick. The virus was devious, and everyone who’s come in contact with the slaves is in rough shape. Hurry.”
Treena wanted to say more, but needed her concentration in the shuttle and left her own mind. What did he mean? The captain was sick? That wasn’t good, and it also meant she was the most experienced executive in the fleet, and she wasn’t even in the same system as they were.
The shuttle moved toward Earon Station, and the trip took a while, moving past the wormhole generator. Treena reached out to them with her communicator, filling Yephion and Zolin, the Zilph’i engineer, in on what had occurred.
“Should we shut it down?” Zolin asked plainly.
“No. Our people are over there, and we have a plan,” she said, not expanding on it.
“Very well,” Zolin said over the speaker. “We will be prepared for destabilization on your word.”
“Thank you,” she said, ending the communication.
She reached out to Earon now, knowing the admiral and Prime remained there, and finally, after being passed to three stations, she was in touch with Admiral Jalin Benitor.
“What happened?” the admiral asked, and Treena told her everything.
“You cannot allow them to win. At any cost,” the admiral said.
“I agree, but I need your help,” Treena said.
“Anything.”
“The archives and museum. We need access, as well as people.” Treena wished she could have brought capable crew members with her, but the shuttle had no room. They were going to require a lot of trust in new people and old vessels.
“Bodies we have,” Benitor said. “What do you want from the archives… wait, the decommissioned ships?”
“That’s right. The only way we stop the Statu and live to return to Earon is by bringing the entire fleet of legacy ships over to fight,” Treena said.
The admiral’s voice sounded tired. “I knew we were stretched too thin. What were we thinking, sending two cruise ships and twelve Ugna vessels to fight this battle?”
Treena cut her some slack. “We misjudged their strength and intelligence. They fooled us again. But we have something they don’t.”
“What’s that?” Admiral Benitor asked.
“We have our ancestors to fight with us.” She smiled as she raced toward the station, seeing the massive archives where over forty retired Concord vessels sat gathering dust.
“Meet me there. I’ll bring my finest,” Benitor said, ending the call.
Twenty
Brax zoomed on the battle, watching as the Tubers tried to lure the drones into a trap. The Ugna were smart enough to avoid the ambush, and one by one, Brax saw the icons of the cylinder ships vanish from the radar as their electrical systems were ended.
The pulses firing from the drones shorted the Tubers out, and Brax was glad they’d been able to finally target the exact right nodes. For years, their people had attempted to disable the enemy crafts with pulse, but had failed until their recently-acquired ship taught them there was indeed a single connection in the electrical system that could be waylaid.
It worked, and as soon as the Tubers realized what the Concord fleet was capable of, they eased off, most of the remaining cylinders returning to their assigned warships.
“This is Basker to the bridge,” the lieutenant said through the speakers.
“Go ahead,” Brax told him.
“We have visual. The Tubers are running scared. We’re going to keep half our fighters and drones outside for quick reaction, should the bastards grow brave again.”
“Good work out there.” Brax smiled as they won their first encounter of what was sure to be many. They were still moving toward the wormhole, and he wished that Treena would hurry along. “Constantine, check with Tarlen in Treena’s room. He told me he was there with her.”
Constantine vanished, returning a few seconds later. “He says Treena has made it to Earon Station, and they’re mounting the fleet now. It appears as though they’re encountering some issues, but Tarlen is unsure what they are, specifically. She’s pressed for time.”
“Thank you,” Brax told the AI, and reached out to the medical bay. “Doctor Nee, what’s happening down there?”
“By the Vastness, I might have it. These Statu are far sneakier than I ever gave them credit. They layered this, likely testing it on their slaves over the years to perfect. I dread to think how many were killed in the process…”
“Nee, enough chit-chat. How’s the captain?” Brax was impatient for results.
“He’s resting, and we have him sedated, but…” Brax heard medical alerts ringing out th
rough the speakers. “Brax, I’ll get back to you.”
The contact ended, and Brax returned his stare to the viewer, seeing the zoomed image of the gathered warships heading toward them. “Ven, you were right.”
The Ugna man nodded, not breaking his stare with his console as he spoke. “I wish I hadn’t been.”
“You and me both,” Brax said.
____________
The lights were bright inside the archives, and the entire place had erupted in a cacophony of noise as the relic ships were brought to life.
Treena walked down the main center line, with Admiral Benitor and Prime Xune beside her. “I’ll be captaining Remie,” the admiral said.
“You? Are you positive?” Treena asked.
“I’ll have you know I was a great captain in my day,” the old Callalay woman said, her ridged brow furrowing even deeper.
“I don’t doubt that,” Treena admitted.
“I’ll take Persi,” the Prime said, causing Treena and the admiral to stop in their tracks.
“I think not, Prime,” Benitor said.
“If I’m to lead the Concord, let me do so by example. I will not hide while others do our dirty work. I’ll take Persi; just place a competent commander on the bridge with me, so I don’t endanger anyone.” Prime Xune may have been the second choice of the Zilph’i delegates, but after the untimely death of Shengin, Xune had turned out to be a great candidate, and Treena saw the passion burning in his eyes.
“Very well,” Admiral Benitor said. “I’ll send retired captain Jake Barclay with you. He’ll love that.”
“It only seems fair these retired ships are led by retired officers, doesn’t it?” Treena asked, getting a laugh from the Prime.
Treena watched as the very first ancient ship departed through the giant energy barrier in the side of the warehouse. It was necessary to move the vessels out one after the other; the planning on this alone had taken three warehouse foremen and a computer to calculate exit strategies.
“There are too many of them inside here, don’t you think?” Treena asked, and Benitor nodded.
“Perhaps we were remiss to retire them all. We could have donated some to our partners, easily stripping them of weapons and our network data.”
“The Concord has had a long history of preserving the past,” the Prime said. “It’s time for a change there as well.”
“You may be right,” Benitor said, agreeing with Xune.
The first ship was named Titun and was almost a square in shape, the thrusters jutting out from the sides of the box like hands. Treena didn’t know much about the three-hundred-year-old cruise ship, but it was only large enough to hold a crew of twenty or so. Today, it was operated by a crew of three.
Treena walked along the sterile, dark gray warehouse floor toward the next craft in line to depart and saw an elderly Tekol woman in uniform, wearing a red collar. Her attire was the old model from decades ago, and Treena had to smile. “I bet she didn’t wake up today expecting to be conscripted into the Fleet once again.”
Admiral Benitor set a hand on Treena’s wrist. “None of us did, dear.”
Each of the vessels were brought into space, and Treena kept a close eye as various people were being ushered onto the cruise ships, cruisers, and freighters, some wearing old uniforms, some new, and others in maintenance outfits. Anyone that understood the functionality of a Concord vessel was asked to pitch in, and according to the lead recruiter, only the sick or injured were turning the offer down.
Everyone wanted their chance at revenge against the Statu. It was too good of an opportunity to avoid, and Treena felt the energy of the place increase with each passing minute. She checked the time and cursed under her breath. “We need to move now.”
“The first wave is prepared to enter the wormhole,” Benitor said.
“Then let’s get to our posts and join them,” Treena said, leaving the Prime and admiral to board their own of the last three remaining cruise ships, the very same ones that Treena had helped escort back to Earon only days ago. Andron was the largest of the three, and there were some advanced modifications done to her. She recalled the layout of Andron well, and three officers were already inside.
“Commander Starling! We’re here to help you,” a girl said. She couldn’t have been out of the Academy. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair curly and tied on the top of her head. “I’m Neve. This is Otto, and Blanche.” She pointed to the other two students, each one appearing fresher under the collar than the previous.
“When do you graduate?” Treena asked them.
“This year,” Otto answered. He was wide at the shoulders, thin at the waist: the kind of shape only a teenager could manage.
“Good.” Treena led them onto the bridge, and she was surprised to see them take positions as if they’d worked together for years. “I take it you’ve done some simulations.”
“We’re at the top of our class, sir.” This from Blanche, a snub-nosed girl with shiny black hair swept to the side.
“Then show me what you’ve learned. Take us out, Blanche.” The girl sat in the primary helm position with Otto beside her. Neve took the weapons position along the edge of the bridge, and Treena accepted the captain’s seat, feeling surprisingly calm aboard this old codger of a ship. She pictured Constantine Baldwin in his prime, barking orders as they fended off the Statu at Yollox, and grinned.
Andron followed Remie and Persi from the museum, and Treena didn’t have to urge Blanche to bring them to full impulse; she did it on instinct, bringing them to the front of the line before the wormhole a short time later. The other ships waited for Andron as instructed, and Treena stood before the viewer, activating the communication stream visible to each ally around them.
“The trip is safe; ten minutes of turbulence and you’ll be on the other side. We’re cutting it close, and I expect our allies and enemies to be nearby when we exit. As discussed, the oldest of the fleet will remain behind, ten of you to defend our lines should we fail on the other side.
“Zolin will be powering down the wormhole should the Statu break through our ranks in their system, and you’re tasked with destroying any warship on sight. Stay vigilant and fight with honor.” Treena paused, wishing she didn’t have to hear the following saying so often. “Until we meet in the Vastness.” She ended the communication and pointed toward the viewer.
Blanche directed them to the wormhole, and Treena clutched the arms of the old captain’s chair as they entered.
____________
Thomas Baldwin blinked, the room feeling too bright around him. Everything ached, and he smacked his lips, the flesh sticking together. “Doctor,” he said too quietly. Nee was bustling around the room, a perfect combination of frantic and calm surrounding him. “Doctor.”
Someone noticed Tom was up and motioned for Nee, who rushed over. “Thank the Vastness, you made it, Tom.” His gloved hand snaked on Tom’s wrist, and the captain tried to sit up.
“Am I…”
The doctor shook his head. “No. We managed to find a solution, sir. You’re fine. The virus was strong, attacking you with vehemence, so it’s taking longer for your body to recover,” Nee said, and Tom only partially understood him.
“What time is it? Are we at the wormhole? What’s happening out there?” Tom asked, but Nee waved his comments away.
“You need to rest and heal up,” the doctor said, but already Tom was feeling slightly better. He sat up, his chest burning, and he found a glass of water beside him. He drank deeply, and Nee grabbed it, setting it down. “Not too much at once.”
“I have to get to the bridge,” Tom said.
“You are in no shape to go…”
Tom grabbed Nee by the collar. “Am I a danger to anyone? The virus… is it gone?”
“You’re no longer contagious, if that’s what you’re asking,” Nee advised, and Tom swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There were fewer people inside the medical bay now, and that was a good sign, unless they’d
been transferred to the morgue.
“The others. Are they…?”
“We suffered two more fatalities before creating the cure,” Nee told him, and when it was clear Tom wasn’t going to relent, the doctor stepped to the side, helping Tom to his feet.
“Has the commander returned?” Tom asked, but the doctor didn’t know and told him as much.
“Kelli, bring the captain to the bridge, please.” Nee passed a medispray to Tom, and he clutched it to his chest. “If you get dizzy or can’t think clearly, use this, but only in an emergency. I haven’t verified what it will do when mixed with the antidote.”
Tom nodded, staggering away from the bed, and Nee’s nurse Kelli caught his arm, steadying him. “Come on, Captain. Let’s get you there in one piece.”
____________
Brax sat in the captain’s seat, and it was chaos all around him. The sounds of the ship’s alarms had faded to background noise, and he was finally attuned to the scenarios they were encountering.
“Trust and Shelter, stay strong, don’t let those three warships sneak past you!” he shouted to the two Ugna vessels holding the pass to Constantine’s port side.
He fired at the warship closest to them, the computer programmed to alternate between the nearest three targets with each pulse. So far, it was working well enough to hold them at bay while Shu and Constantine stayed a few hundred kilometers from the wormhole’s entrance.
“Where are you, Treena?” he asked aloud, not expecting or receiving an answer.
Ven was quiet, focused as he maneuvered their ship, staying in the precise position necessary to defend the maw of the wormhole. He was almost in a trance, humming an unfamiliar tune while his lips moved, repeating a mantra of some kind. Brax let him be, not wanting to interrupt the meditative state keeping him on point.
The Tubers were out in full force, too many to stop at once, and a few of them made it by the fighters and drones. Brax watched as the closest was destroyed by the automatic targeting built into Constantine.
Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series Page 79