“I don’t know,” said Hope, in a way that made him think, I don’t want to, not anymore.
“Well,” said Nate, “I figure we’ve got about five minutes while Kohl swears at that warhead he’s bringing onboard, which gives us both about the same amount of time. You can fix my leg in five, right?”
“Won’t take five,” she said, hands moving again, head not looking up. “I mean, for a proper fix, sure, but … ain’t no one got time for the right way about things anymore.”
“No, I guess not,” said Nate. “I want to tell you about the day I earned this leg. Hand, too, if we’re being clear with each other.” She looked up at that, one eye hidden behind pink hair, the other clear, bright, and piercing. There was so much pain in that eye, he wanted to reach out to her. But it’d be the wrong approach. So, he looked away, like he hadn’t noticed, and he said, “I was forming a guard. For Dom. He was having a birthday party. Dom liked to party. Annemarie, too.” Nate smiled at something half-remembered, dragged himself back to the present with an effort. “We … I guess we had a heads-up, from the Emperor’s new elite intelligence squad.”
“The Intelligencers,” said Hope.
“You telling this story, or am I?”
“Sorry, Cap.”
“I reckon they weren’t that new. You don’t sprout, grown, from the earth. They were everywhere. Dom had been working on them, he’d said. He’d also said he wanted them to spearhead security at the party. Because, you know, Dom was Dom.” He sighed. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea. Untested, untried. And who wants people who can get in your head around you?”
“Dom … The Emperor made them?”
“That he did, Hope. He made the things that brought down his beloved Old Empire. What neither of us knew was how advanced the coup was. How many there were. There were reports. I read ’em. They were fabrications. But Dom, he was a little savvy, you get me? He had this idea that maybe people who could control your mind, that kind of thing could backfire. So he did two things.”
“Two?”
“Maybe more. Maybe three,” said Nate, holding his sword up. “The third was this sword. Amedea called it a spear thrown forward in time. I guess it was a contingency. But the two things? So the first was that he got the Intelligencers to set up security for the party, with his most trusted Emperor’s Black running alongside. The second, well. The second was that he did the mod on himself. Him and Annemarie both. Or maybe it was his father. Never sure on that point.”
“The Emperor could read minds?”
“Not well,” said Nate. “He was busy running an Empire. And I said to him, ‘Dom, this is wrong,’ and he said ‘Nate, I don’t have a choice.’ Because, as I understand it, once you’ve uncovered a technology, you’ve got to use it or it’ll be used against you.”
“You can’t ever put toothpaste back in the tube,” agreed Hope. “I’ve tried.”
“The problem with his first plan was it meant all the best of us, the ones who wore the Black, well, we were all in the same place at the same time. It made scraping us into a bucket that much easier. The problem with his second plan was that it gave him a false sense of security. He had a sword like this,” and Nate held up his sword again, “which was all well and good. But a well-trained Intelligencer is a thing to behold, Hope. They get in your head. Under your skin. Make you do things you never wanted to do.”
“Did you do something wrong?” said Hope.
“I … don’t know,” said Nate. “Not really. I guess I was convinced by Dom that he had everything under control. That things would work out okay. That I, as one of his Black, could get him through. I thought that right until they blew my car to pieces. They fired burning rounds into my flesh. Made it personal. My whole squad died. One of them, well, he covered me with his body. We called him Big Blake. He died screaming on top of me, but I didn’t die, Hope. I kept screaming, until I couldn’t anymore. And then they put me back together. Gave me a sword and a pension. And Dom said, ‘You need to go, brother,’ and I said, ‘This is the worst time to go.’ You know why, Hope?”
She shook her head, mute.
“Because when things are bad, and everyone you love is dying, that’s the time you can never leave. And I never will. Never again.” Nate leaned forward then. He held her shoulders. “Hope, we won’t ever let you go. I’m so, so sorry about Reiko. I can’t bring her back, but I’ll always be here. The Tyche will always be here.”
She was quiet for a moment, not pulling away, then he felt her shoulders shake as the sobs took her. “I couldn’t stop it,” she said. “My Reiko.”
Nate pulled her close. “I know,” he said.
“She’s gone.”
“I know.”
“She can’t come back. I can’t fix her.”
“I know.”
“You know what it’s like.”
“Yes.”
“When does it stop hurting?”
Nate sighed, holding her as she cried. “I don’t know,” he said. “When you lose family? Maybe never. But if you’re lucky, and you’ve got a crew around you and a hull that holds you tight, you’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he felt … just maybe, it might have been. If Hope got any of the luck she deserved, she might smile again.
“I’m sorry, Cap,” she said, wiping her eyes with a grease-stained hand. It left a smudge on her cheek.
“What for?”
“Crying on your shirt,” she said. “Crying on the captain.” And then she cried again.
“It’s okay, Hope,” said Nate. “I ain’t your captain. I’m a terrible captain, but I think I make good family.”
• • •
“Uh,” said Grace, eyes roaming over him as he came into the cargo bay. There were sparks of light spraying out from the welded bay door where Hope had completed her emergency repairs. The Torrington was cutting its way in, because they had cargo to deliver that wouldn’t fit through the side airlock.
“Yeah,” said Nate. He tugged his collar. “It’s got that thing going on, doesn’t it? I’m surprised it still fits.”
“Oh, it fits,” she said. “It definitely fits.”
“Holy shit, Cap,” said Kohl. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
Nate looked down at himself. At the black uniform. “An heirloom,” he said. After his conversation with Hope, he figured two things. First, he couldn’t go around the ship with tear stains on his shirt. Not because he was ashamed, but because if Hope wanted to talk to people about it, that was her business. Second, talking with her about the past had made him remember a little about who he used to be. He wore the Emperor’s Black. Commanded a troop of loyal men and women. They were all gone now, but he could respect them by wearing their colors while he fought an alien menace.
It made him proud of who he was. And as he stood here, looking down on Grace and Kohl, it made him proud of who he’d become. Or, at the least, who he’d come along on the journey with. He looked over the cargo bay filled with the remnants of a Resistance that had been on the wrong side of history, men and women who had stood against those who would topple a regime, and he thought, Well, we might have a chance.
The cargo bay door fell to the deck with a boom, all heads turning to face the opening. Smoke and light came through in equal measure. Nate slid down the railing to land with a clank on the decking of the cargo bay. He pushed to the front of the crowd, his sword over his shoulder, his blaster on his hip. The Resistance parted for him, and he waited at the breach in his ship for the smoke to clear.
As it did, he took in a woman, command uniform, straight shoulders. “Captain,” said Karkoski.
“Lieutenant,” said Nate.
“Not anymore,” said Karkoski.
“Field promotion?” said Nate.
“Something like that,” said Karkoski. “Our current captain is … indisposed.”
“Okay,” said Nate. “That it?” He nodded to the sled behind her. It had rugged wheels on it, designed for rocky terrain. Per
fect for wheeling out on the surface of the moon, if it came to that.
“It is,” she said. “One nuclear warhead, as requested.” She looked at Grace. “Your Assessor has said you can get this into the Ezeroc HQ.”
“It’s a lair,” said Nate. “I’ve seen ’em before. Slime, shit like that.”
“Indeed,” said Karkoski. “Well?”
Nate looked behind him at the Resistance, every one of them an esper. Every one of them able to break minds, read thoughts, and generally be a huge pain in the ass. Except this time, they would do it to aliens, not their own people. He figured on it being a learning experience for all parties. Turning back to Karkoski, he said, “We’ll get it done.” He looked at the breach in his hull. “I might need an assist with that, though.”
“Why is it that all you seem to want from the fair Republic, under whose flag you sail, is free repairs?” said Karkoski, but with a tight smile.
“Because you assholes keep sending me places where there are aliens who want to blow up my ship. Or, in this case, it’s your own guys.” Nate shrugged. “Don’t matter that they’re being commanded by alien mind leeches. The legality is clear.”
“That it is, Captain.” She paused in the act of turning away. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said Nate. “Call your backup.”
“How many?”
“Everyone you’ve got,” said Nate.
• • •
While the Torrington’s Engineers carried out emergency repairs on the Tyche — nothing fancy, a new cargo bay airlock that would open and close is all, carved out of the hull of one of their own heavy lifters — Nate stood in the ready room with El, Grace, Kohl, and Hope. His crew. His family.
“What the hell have you gone and done now?” said El.
“It’s like this,” said Nate. “The Ezeroc have a base on the moon. So we’ll go in there with a nuke and blow ’em up. Like exterminators.”
“The hell we are,” said Kohl.
“We are,” said Grace, putting her fingertips on the big man’s arm. “You don’t need to be afraid, October Kohl.”
He seemed startled, jerking his arm away. “I ain’t afraid.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Grace.
“What?” said Kohl. “I mean—”
“The good news,” said Nate, “is that we have an entire shipload of espers who will make it seem like the Tyche doesn’t exist. Oh, she’ll still be visible to the naked eye, but I don’t see too many naked eyes out here in space. And if we encounter some, that’s why we’ve got the best Helm in the whole universe.”
“I hate you,” said El, but she had a wolfish smile on her face, showing too many teeth.
“Now, Hope,” said Nate, turning to his young Engineer. “Nothing fancy, okay? Just keep her running. I need the engines on, ready for when we come out.”
“She’ll fly true, Cap,” said Hope. “I promise.”
“Cap,” said El.
“What is it, Helm?”
“Looking good,” she said, nodding at the black uniform. “I was wondering when you’d remember who you were.”
“Emperor’s Black,” said Kohl. “Fiercest assholes I’ve ever killed.”
“That, and a damn fine captain,” said El. “I’d follow you into hell, sir.”
“Might be doing that,” said Hope, her voice small, eyes wide. “But I’d follow family anywhere.”
“Yes,” said Grace. “Together.”
Nate swallowed a lump in his throat, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. “Uh,” he said.
“Don’t spoil the moment,” said El, turning back to the flight deck. “We got aliens to scrub out.”
“Hang on,” said Kohl. “I don’t think we’re clear on who’s going in there.”
“Come on, big man,” said Nate. “We’re going to save the world.”
• • •
Leaving the docking couple with the Torrington was a simple affair. A few clanks and they floated free. The drives fired up, streams of fire pushing at the hard black, nudging them clear. The Tyche flew like she was eager for what was to come. Maybe they all were, ready to test their luck one more time.
In her hold, she held the leaders of the Resistance against the Republic. Remnants of the Old Empire, most still true and loyal. They had special powers: they could see the thoughts of others, sometimes altering them. They bent those skills towards making the Tyche invisible to mental view. Invisible to other espers, or aliens who talked mind to mind as easy as it was for humans to breathe.
The Tyche also held a nuclear warhead, designed to be rolled into a nest of snakes. It would be delivered by hand. It needed to be taken to the right place, at the right time. A tactical device, to excise an infection, rather than blowing the moon into chunks that would rain death on the Earth. No one turns the moon into an alien starship. Time to remind the bugs of that.
And she held her crew, five souls who started as pirates and liars, murderers and criminals. They would now save the world. After that? Maybe they’d try and save the universe, but one day at a time. It was important to not push your luck.
As the Tyche stalked across the hard black towards the moon, leaving mother Earth and the Torrington behind her, eyes looked out from the flight deck. The holo stage brought up hostile action, a storm of rocks leaving the moon’s crust. These were unlike those the Tyche had dodged back on Absalom Delta, dumb missiles thrown into the dark. These were guided, agile like fighter craft. They moved towards the Tyche, accelerating as they came, but without the telltale drive plumes of human craft.
The Torrington appeared to take this in, and then the ship shivered and blinked away, an Endless Drive whisking her to safer waters. The aliens on the moon took in this data, certain that the cowardice of humans was showing its face again. Understanding humans was difficult for their alien minds. They were used to working as a cohesive unit. Mind to mind, will to will. They never doubted, never altered their purpose. There was no dissent. They had come across the dark void between stars, eating civilizations as they came, until they found just one more. Humans. Weak, soft, and cowardly.
Except for this one tiny ship. The fighter craft gained visual on the Tyche, but for a species used to fighting their opponents on battlefields both physical and mental, it was difficult to track. They didn’t know it, but the Intelligencers on board the ship linked minds, locking the Ezeroc out. Nothing to see, nothing to influence. Which meant they didn’t understand this piece of metal without a mind, didn’t know how to target it except with crude kinetic weapons. But they had plenty of those, and it was only a matter of time before they filled the skies above this planet with enough rock to end all hope.
If aliens could be confident — and they could — this was the moment where the confidence was at its highest. The government of these people was weak. While the alien outpost below had been destroyed, it was a temporary affair. They could install new agents, and they would as soon as the immediate threat was removed. This threat was one they had picked up by sifting through humans on the Torrington, and it focused the efforts of the Ezeroc.
The Tyche didn’t slow. She came on, sailing soft and easy as she did it. If anyone — human or Ezeroc — had been watching, this was the moment where they would have bet against the Goddess of Luck. They would have thought she had overplayed her hand.
Space rippled, blurred, and the Torrington snapped back above the planet. It was possible her crew had rethought cowardice, realized that without the Earth there would be no home to return to. Weapons were online, coherent light stretching across the void to touch those stony fighters racing toward the Tyche. Those ships were hunks of pure moon rock, rough on the outside, heavy and thick, and the lasers deployed against them were having no effect on their targets. Masers were brought to play, with better effect. And torpedoes were launched, smart rockets with heavy payloads.
But one destroyer against an alien fleet on the moon? It was a laughable proposition, if aliens c
ould laugh.
The aliens still didn’t understand humans well, nor human technology. While the Ezeroc could speak mind to mind without speed of light complications, the humans were limited by basic relativity. The Torrington had needed to jump to where the rest of their fleet lay. A paltry handful of ships, but built with human hands, to protect human worlds. Foremost they were built to protect humans against themselves, but now they had found a new, beautiful purpose. And that purpose wasn’t allowing fucking aliens to wipe out humanity.
After the Torrington arrived, another ripple in space announced the arrival of her sister Lucidity. Moments later, the Confidence jumped into space above Earth. Three destroyers, the second largest craft humans built, deployed above the Earth. They stood between the Tyche and the approaching fighter craft. They stood against the end of the world.
One more ship joined them. Her crew called her the Defiance, and she was a carrier. The largest craft human hands had built. Her crews were already scrambling attack craft of their own, tiny gnats launched from the great ship.
Things had gone from being unbalanced to more equitable. The Ezeroc attack ships changed vector, bearing down on the newcomers to the battle. The new ships responded in kind. While humans fought each other to the death for land, for power, and for money, they were united in one thing: no aliens would take their world. Resistance and Republic flew in the sky above the cradle of humanity, and they fought for the future of their race.
Steaming media networks of the humans below went live to capture the battle. People watched as lasers bathed the shells of rocks with light that could cut ceramicrete. Masers boiled their insides. Torpedoes launched, streaking across the black of space with deadly promise. Human skirmish craft — brothers and sisters to the Tyche, but younger, more agile — streaked across the sky pulling Gs that would have crushed pilots of ten years earlier.
While the humans gave well, the Ezeroc had an entire moon at their disposal. Dumb rocks were launched, aimed at the Republic military and at the planet below. The Republic ships needed to turn these rocks to rubble, or their ships would be cored, or the planet below would take a cratering. Either was bad news.
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