That's what the cabin girl's screams sounded like, someone who was in so much pain they weren't conscious of the sounds they were making. Jake's mood darkened, his temper started to rise. He shook it off as best he could as he closed the front of his new, heavily armoured vacsuit and transferred all activity and access to the command and control unit built into it. The unit he had tossed onto the bed locked and deactivated.
Jake brought up the status screen. Minh was still asleep, due to wake in half an hour, he'd gone to sleep six hours beforehand. His last report indicated that his fighter wing was ready for combat. A squadron was on standby, ready to launch as soon as the Triton arrived on the edge of the Ossimi Ring.
Jake checked the load and safety on his side arm and locked it into his thigh holster then snatched his black long coat off the hanger. He was out the door and down the private hallway for the Officer's ready quarters before the lights finished coming on. The command level concourse was quiet, only a few security guards passed by as he made his way to the main lifts. It was rare to ride the express car alone, especially all the way to medical. On the way he checked on Alice's status. Still unconscious. Not quite a coma, not quite dreaming.
Instead of visiting her he turned in the other direction and stopped in the largest of the family rooms. They were comfortable spaces reserved for friends and family waiting on news from the infirmary. They were all empty, a good sign.
Jake looked at the broad two dimensional screen. The image was so high quality that it was indistinguishable from a transparent section of hull. It was even laid out the same way as many of the observation points, starting half way up the wall and stretching the entire length of the room. The warped view of space outside, with stretched stars and light gossamer haze of the wormhole they were traversing filled his view. The countdown clock on his command and control unit told him that they were to emerge from the wormhole in seconds.
Crewcast, the new personnel tracking and networking software Jason had installed told him that everyone was waking up early, even Minh, who had somehow managed to get ready for duty in the time he'd spent in the lift.
The field of distorted stars became clear as they emerged from the wormhole. A few larger, wayward asteroids hung in the space outside of the Ossimi ring's rapidly rotating perimeter, catching the sun's light on their icy surface.
It's decision time. Jake mused. He played the scream back in his subdermal earpiece as he looked out over the rapidly moving field of asteroids. Triton was turning and accelerating along the edge of the field so it could keep pace with the whirling expanse of rock and ice. It stretched on like a horizon of blue, black and white with no visible end.
Jake closed his eyes and listened one more time as the wail played back in his ears. For over five years he operated under the assumption that Alice was his biological daughter. He looked for her as he made his way across entire sectors on the Samson, earning his way across the stars with bounty hunting and retrieval work. When he discovered that they weren't blood relations, that she was actually his personal artificial intelligence made flesh, it changed very little. If that cabin girl was her, if it was his daughter being tortured, he would go to any length to get her back, make her safe and punish the ones responsible.
There was nothing he hated more than slavery. In some cases it was worse than murder. He remembered being a captive himself. The result of some personality bending, information retrieval experiment. The playback ended. This isn't how good decisions are made. I don't have a clear head on this and I'm making it worse. He deleted the playback of the scream and looked at the broad display. On the left side was the edge of the asteroid field, so large it looked like a straight line stretching out into space. On the right was the open blackness of the universe.
There were other ports. Busy solar systems with dozens of planets and asteroid belts to hide in while they made repairs. They could disappear into another wormhole and limp their way to another hiding place where they could activate their new hypertransmitter and try to find an ally. There had to be someone in reach who opposed the Order of Eden or would at least buy ill gotten cargo if they started raiding supply routes and capturing ships.
Slave ship. The term conjured images of filthy accommodations, barely edible food, brutal discipline and the stripping of one's identity. It took a special type of person to Captain such a ship. He had run into people with implants before. Neutralized them before. He knew how to deal with them. I've never had the chance to take on an entire ship until now. Triton might not be fast or manoeuvrable right now, but she's powerful, and we've got fighter squadrons ready to go. I have five commanders I trust. Two weeks of solid practice and preparation for multi aspect engagements. We're ready, the crew is burning to get into some kind of action. If I leave these people on that ship without trying I'll never live it down.
“Busiest two weeks of my life,” Oz said as he stepped into the family room. He stepped up beside him to take in the view offered by the faux family room window.
"Good morning."
"You look like you've got something on your mind."
"Straight to it. You've been in the military too long."
Oz shrugged. "Guilty as charged. You can take the malcontent out of the military but you'll never get the military out of the malcontent. "
The pair watched as seven two seater Uriel starfighters flew ahead of the Triton in formation along the edge of the asteroid field. They were impressive ships, with eight engine pods and two main bidirectional thrusters. Small gunships in their own right, capable of carrying a vast array of weaponry as well as modules specialized for extra power, wormhole generation, rescue, troop delivery and many other purposes. They looked on silently as they disappeared from sight. "What do you think of Triton?" Jake asked as he used his command unit to cancel all fabrication and ordered the staff to wake immediately and begin producing heavily armoured gravity outfits. They would fit over the crew's regular vacsuits and compensate for extreme environmental conditions. He added a new design as he completed the order; a Triton skull would be printed on the protective plates mounted on the suit's faces.
"The ship is incredible. She puts everything I've seen to shame. Your people have done a good job at getting her in shape."
"What about her people? What do you think of her crew?"
"Aside from a few who've found their way to the brig, they've fallen in line. Most seem to like what they're doing well enough, whoever doesn't is offered the opportunity to train for something else and try qualifying. A lot of them follow through. A few of them are still a bit of a mess, but there's a chain of command, people are falling in line. Why do you ask?"
"I've lost objectivity. They're refugees to me Oz, and I have trouble sending people I'm trying to protect into battle."
"It happens."
"Ever happen to you?"
Oz thought a moment before answering. "I got to know the crew on the Roi De Ceil very well, Jake. Every time we took on a Vindyne ship there was a chance some of us would be killed. We got better at our jobs as time went by, but those renegade captains got more desperate. Some of them fought us until there was nothing left for the boarding teams."
"For Vindyne? I've never seen a more soulless corp."
"That's what I thought at first. Then I realized they were fighting for the way of life Vindyne provided. Their ships didn't look like much compared to what we were running. Close quarters, thin hulls, few creature comforts, but they were more secure than being on the ground. Vindyne controlled systems were collapsing, crime bosses were becoming barons. Sheriffs were becoming Presidents, and civil wars were breaking out everywhere. Lorander managed to take control on a few worlds, so life got better there, but that still left hundreds of major cities, worlds, and stations without an upper government. People left aboard ships had weapons, structure, leadership and mobility. They took what they could and moved on unless their Captain had some misguided idea of raiding colonies or taking territory for themselves. A lot of th
em did. For a while we were the ones who were supposed to stand in their way. When the fighting got too hot, when Vindyne territory had really gone to hell, Freeground ships were relegated to keeping a lane of retreat protected for the few refugee ships that were cleared to enter our territory. You wouldn't believe how many former Vindyne ships tried to sneak or fight their way through."
"Now we're the renegades."
"Chief Grady doesn't think so. He calls Triton a city. After spending the night in one of the botanical gallery apartments I'm starting to agree. I woke up to an artificial pre-dawn so convincing I thought I was on a planet somewhere. Now I'm here, in an infirmary so well built it looks more like a full on hospital. Thanks to these," he gestured at the display, "it feels like there are windows everywhere, more like we're walking from one tower to the next on some sort of tall space station. Most people feel at home here now. They have full time jobs, food rations, credits for extra materialization shopping, neighbours and friends. It's not all sunshine and smooth sailing, Security Chief Vega conducted her first raid on black market trading a few days ago, but things are pretty good."
"I heard about that. We're putting that bunch off at the next port."
"Good, I was wondering what you'd decided. There was nothing on report."
"It was Stephanie's suggestion. She thought punishing them aboard would be a blow to morale."
"Getting put off is bad enough. It's hell out there."
Jake nodded and sighed. "How do you feel about being aboard?"
Oz looked at Jake. His black and crimson vacsuit and long coat made him an imposing figure. His expression was difficult to read. There was a great deal the man wasn't saying, whatever he had to express would come at his own pace. "Honest? I'd rather be no where else. Taking control of off ship operations is a perfect fit, even in simulations. Minh, Ayan and Jason are the same way. They've all found their places, though I suspect Ayan wants something more, I don't think she knows what yet."
"Having you all here has been surreal. I'm not used to having people who know what they're doing so well."
"What about Finn, Ashley, Stephanie or Liam?"
"They're fantastic, but all still learning. If they're not learning their jobs, they're learning how to work with me or the other way around."
"But with us we just take a post and work it." Oz nodded. "We're all military, Jake. Not just military, but from the same military, and being here has a little of the same spirit as the First Light."
"Not the same though."
"No, not the same. We've all been places, seen a few new things, had more seasoning. Where's this going Jake?"
"We're going into combat. Not after repairs. Today."
"Something wrong with Alice's destination?"
"Raiders. They're attacking Ossimi station right now according to the message we received right before emerging."
"There's no way Alice could have known that when she programmed the course in two weeks ago."
"You're right. According to the logs on the Clever Dream it was the perfect place to stop for repairs, raw materials and a bit of trade. Even has an obscuring field protecting the entire centre of the asteroid field. Pretty well established."
"The raiding party must be huge."
"They're slavers, running at least one large slave ship, a carrier called the Palamo."
Oz sucked air in through his teeth, cringing a little. "Complicated. I've never run into this."
"I have, but I've never had the means to do anything about it. This is going to be hard, very hard. We can't tell anyone they're slaves. If we do, they'll pull punches during the initial fight and it'll get people killed."
Oz thought for a moment. "I don't see any way around it. You're right. Is there anything in particular I should know about?"
"First thing; the dead man's switch is normally an urban myth. No one wants their entire stable or crew of slaves to die if they're put into stasis or out of commission for a minute."
"That makes sense."
Jake hesitated before continuing. When he did so it was in a whisper; "Most of these outfits have a crude version of a Vindyne chemical remote destruct system built into their slave's implants."
"You mean they can turn their slaves into explosives?"
"Exactly. You don't find that much in higher class stock. Ashley didn't have one because she was considered well bred, but in this kind of crew, in raiders…"
"They're more likely to be used as weapons if they're cornered. We have to tell someone else about this. The boarding captains at least."
"No. If they have extra sympathy while they're in the fight they might hesitate when they have to make difficult decisions. You know it just as well as I do."
Oz stared at Jake, his expression unchanging for long moments until he nodded tersely. "I hate it, but you're right. We tell our people everything and we could lose more lives than we save."
“I've been on the rough edge for a while. Life is cold out here," Jake replied quietly.
“The ex-military will understand when it's said and done, even Alaka'll get it. Do you think we can save the Palamo crew?”
"Unless the Captain blows everyone instead of surrendering at the last minute, yes." It was almost eerie having Oz aboard. The tall, blond fellow was more confidant and competent than Jake remembered from the First Light by far. There were times, however, when the old humour, the feeling of being connected to a second in command returned. In those moments it really was like he was on the bridge of the First Light and even though he'd only been working with him for ten days he trusted Oz completely.
“How's Alice?”
“Stable. From what Iloona says she's in a coma but the monitors look like she's dreaming. The old brain damage they repaired was from before the Overlord Two, before Alice was downloaded into her human body. Iloona tells me the new healthy tissue hasn't been used yet so she's starting neural therapy later today.”
“What are her chances like?”
“Good, over ninety percent.”
Oz looked at Jake for a moment. He had toughened up and gained so much bearing since he'd known him on the First Light, but then, this wasn't the man he'd known there. That was Jonas Valent, who was the first owner of the memories that partially made Jake who he was. Looking at Jake wasn't like seeing a copy. It was more like seeing an old friend after years of absence. He knew people changed over time and it was more noticeable when you didn't see them day after day and Jake was like Jonas enough for Oz to accept him quickly. Faster than he expected. It was a welcome trick of the mind, as though Jonas had been away for a while and returned as a seasoned, more practical and experienced man with a slightly different name. His smile was the same, though it was much rarer than Jonas's.
Jake stared off into space the same as Jonas used to when he was deep in thought, and when he looked at Ayan and didn't think she noticed he admired her the same way. Oz's old friend had lived on, and though he missed Jonas at times, he had already grown to like and admire Jacob Valance. “You have doubts about the therapy.”
Jake nodded slowly. “I can't help but think the brain damage Iloona repaired is what allowed Alice to imprint herself on that body in the first place. She told me it was the only viable body on the Overlord Two when she was trying to escape, she couldn't make a connection with the others. I hope she's been in there long enough for the therapy to work. If her thoughts are more human than software she might have a chance.”
“Keep thinking positive. From what the crew tell me she's a strong one.”
“No doubts there. If anyone can pull through this it'll be her. I saw the visitor's log, by the way. She gets more visits than anyone. I think she was alone for all of two hours. Iloona said she's never seen so many people visit a coma patient.”
“She made a pretty heavy impression. People respect her like a commander and miss her like a friend. If you weren't here this ship would be lost.”
“I don't know about that. You took charge pretty well while I
was out of it after Pandem. All the Chiefs are impressed, especially Angelo.”
“Now that's a man who knows how to work his people. He's had the manufacturing centre and hangar crews humming like a well oiled machine since I got on. Most of your crew knows their business. Even your Security Chief has shown me a few tricks I never thought of.”
“Stephanie's good at what she does. She was my best boarding captain when we were on the Samson.”
“Everyone who served on that boat seems to miss it. I made the mistake of asking Ashley about it my second day on the bridge. She and Agameg went on for over two hours.”
“Funny how that is. The Samson was a hard ship to serve on. She always ran lean on supplies and low on opportunity. People miss it anyway, I know Minh has looked over the Samson’s bones a few times.”
“I heard. He said he'd never seen a ship get so beat up and make it back, I believe it. Ayan started making plans to restore it, by the way.”
“I didn't see that on the job list.”
“She's got an assessment report finished and twenty three volunteers are signed up. After the Triton’s main engines are repaired they'll be putting the Samson back together.”
“I should tell her it's not a priority. We have more important things to worry about.”
“I think you should let her. Join her volunteer work gang if you're concerned.”
“I'm not concerned, I just don't know why she'd go to the trouble. The Samson’s main beams are twisted. That alone makes it more trouble than it's worth.”
Oz smiled and sighed. “This is why everyone should grow up with a sister or three. You just don't get it.”
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