by Brown, Ryk
“Of course, sir,” one of the men agreed as he eagerly led the others out of the room, the last man closing the hatch behind him.
“You still have one spot left on the mission roster,” Jalea began. “I wish to be on that mission.”
“It is much too dangerous,” Tug told her.
“Have I not proven my abilities time and again?”
“Of course, but I have…”
“Have I not sacrificed more than others? Have I not given all that I am to our cause?”
“Yes, Jalea, you have,” Tug assured her, “but I have already promised the spot to Dumar.”
“Dumar?” Jalea was shocked. “The old friend that suddenly appeared from nowhere? How can you be sure he has the skills to perform such a mission?”
“I am well aware of his training,” Tug assured her. “I was there.”
“Thirty or so years past, perhaps. But how can you be sure he still has those skills?”
“Some training never leaves you.”
“You know of my training as well,” Jalea reminded him, “for you were the one who trained me. You were also the one who called on me to perform dangerous assignments again and again. Did I ever once disappoint? Did I not always deliver that which you sought?”
“What if this does not work?” Tug asked her. “What if we are all lost? Who will carry on as the leader of the Karuzari?”
“By that logic, you should not be going yourself,” she argued.
“This is something that I must do,” Tug insisted.
“Which is how I feel as well. You cannot deny me this moment of victory. I have suffered and bled for too long.”
“No, I cannot…”
“We both know that this mission is an all-or-nothing proposition,” Jalea told him. “If this fails, the rebellion is over. I would rather die on the final battlefield than be left behind to serve as the leader of a lost cause.”
Tug understood her desire as she had lost much at the hands of the Ta’Akar: her mother, her father, and finally her husband. Few carried more hatred for the empire than Jalea, but Tug feared at times that very hatred clouded her judgment, making it impossible for her to see the bigger picture. “It has already been decided,” he stated firmly, turning to head for the exit.
“I can tell him, you know,” Jalea called after him.
Tug stopped dead in his tracks. “Tell who?” Tug asked, his back still to her.
“Your mighty Captain Scott,” she stated indignantly. “I can tell him how you ordered me to orchestrate the rise of Na-Tan on Corinair. I can tell him how you had me send word to the Ta’Akar of his presence in Darvano. How do you think he will feel about you after he knows that you caused the deaths of thousands, perhaps millions of innocent people on Corinair?”
“I never gave such orders,” Tug stated as he turned to face her.
“Can you afford to allow such doubt to enter his mind at such a crucial juncture?” Jalea asked coyly. “Maybe he will not believe you capable of such treachery, such disregard for life. Maybe he will even continue with the mission. Or maybe, he just might dump his crew of Corinari and start jumping his way back to Earth, feeling he was played by a terrorist.”
Tug stared at her, his eyes burning with anger. He had made the mistake many years ago of letting Jalea get under his skin. Her grief at the loss of her husband had sucked him into her sights, and her passion had kept him there for several years. During that time, he had come to realize that she was a cold, calculating beauty that would use any and all means to attain her goals. He had put up with her for the last twenty years because she had been so good at her job. However, in doing so, he had been forced to conveniently overlook her many transgressions, convincing himself each time that the ends justified the means. Now it was coming back to haunt him one last time.
“Very well, Jalea,” Tug agreed. He took a step closer, grabbing her face forcefully with his right hand as he stared deeply into her mysterious green eyes. “But be warned; should you so much as disobey or ignore a single utterance from my lips, I shall kill you myself without hesitation.” Tug let go of her face, his hand continuing to hover in front of her.
Jalea’s face only hinted at the slightest sign of satisfaction as she stepped to one side and walked past him into the corridor.
Tug closed his eyes and balled his still hovering right hand into a tight fist for several seconds before relaxing it once again. One way or another, this would be the last time Jalea would be able to manipulate him.
* * *
Nathan watched the view from the aft facing camera on the main view screen. The view showed the cluster of five cargo containers, each of them lined up side by side and connected together by a Corinari breaching box. In order to reduce the stress on the breaching boxes, Senior Chief Taggart had assigned a few teams to weld four steel I-beams across the top and bottom of the cargo pods, thus making them permanently into one unit. Another brilliant idea of the Senior Chief’s had been to have the Corinari attach a maneuvering rig to the hastily assembled staging platform. The system, which was normally used to control and maneuver damaged spacecraft during recovery operations, consisted of four maneuvering pods connected to each corner of the staging platform. Using it, a space tug could sit atop the entire platform and maneuver the ungainly-looking assembly as if it were part of his own tug. That simple idea had made the staging platform into a spaceship—a slow spaceship to be sure, but one capable of flight nonetheless.
“That is the oddest thing I have ever seen on our flight deck,” Commander Taylor stated as she stepped up next to Nathan’s command chair at the center of the Aurora’s bridge.
“No doubt,” Nathan agreed. “It’s pretty slick, though. A few cargo pods, some I-beams, and some breach boxes and you have a staging platform. They’ve even got power, gravity, and environmental. I hear the senior chief even installed a few portable toilets.”
“It’s still going to be pretty cramped in there,” Cameron commented. “They weren’t really made to hold fifteen hundred men.”
“Fortunately, they won’t be in there for very long,” Nathan said.
“We won’t load the men until the last minute,” Cameron explained. “Senior Chief Taggart’s team made sure the platform can mate up nicely with the docking collars on our boarding hatches.”
“Sir,” Naralena began, “I’ve set up the automatic comm links between the C2 and the Aurora. I’ve also set up relay systems to be used by all the other jump ships. Whenever one of the jump-enabled ships arrives at a destination, it will automatically synch up with other comm-units in the area and exchange messages.”
“How did you get it to do that?” Cameron asked.
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “Deliza did. She said something about slaving it to the jump drive’s plotting software. Once they lock in a jump destination, the comm relay unit checks your C2’s relay unit for any messages going to the same location. She even programmed in a message tracking system so that the senders know what time their message was delivered to its intended recipient.”
“Nice work,” Cameron told her.
“Thank you, Sir,” Naralena answered. “I’ll pass that on to Deliza.”
“That is one clever sixteen year-old girl,” Nathan mumbled. “Did she ever agree to stay behind where it’s safe?”
“Tug finally had to put his foot down and order her to return to Corinair to care for her sister at Master Chief Montrose’s home.”
“I was sure we were going to have to carry her off the ship in shackles,” Nathan said.
“Flight ops reports the platform is down and secure,” Naralena reported. “The last shuttle has departed for Corinair, and the deck is now red, Captain.”
“Very well,” Nathan answered before turning to face the flight team sitting in front of him. Of the three flight crews that had been trained to operate the Aurora, Colin Riley and Devon Chiles were the most qualified. They had originally been assigned as the second shift, behind Josh and Loki,
but only because they had less time working together and had not learned to anticipate one another the way Josh and Loki had. Now that his first team had taken on the duties of flying the jump interceptor—affectionately named the Falcon—Riley and Chiles had become his primary pilots. They didn’t have the personality that Josh and Loki had, but they were all business and had performed well during the Savoy mission to capture the garrison and airbase on Ancot.
“Mister Riley, plot our jump back to the staging point outside Takara,” Nathan ordered.
“Aye, sir, plotting jump back to the staging point,” the navigator answered.
“And don’t forget to give the Takaran battle group a wide berth,” he reminded him. “We don’t need to draw their attention.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nathan tapped his comm-set to activate. “Doctor Sorenson, Captain.”
“Yes, sir,” Abby answered over the comms.
“Last chance to stay behind, Doctor,” Nathan stated in jest.
“Thank you for the offer, Captain, but I suspect you may need someone to keep the jump drive operational so you can continue to jump about at will.”
Nathan chuckled to himself, remembering all the times she had warned him in the beginning of their journey’s in the Pentaurus cluster that the jump drive was only a prototype and should not be used so frequently. Despite her objections, he had continued to use the jump drive at will. As far as he was concerned, it was as reliable as anything else on his ship, perhaps even more so. The physicist had once told him that they had built the prototype rather robustly due to the fact that they didn’t really understand exactly how it worked. It was a good thing that they had. “Did your people get all the extra jump field emitters in place to cover the staging platform?” Nathan asked.
“Yes, Captain. We should not have any problems.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” he said as he closed the connection by tapping his ear piece once again.
“Course plotted and ready,” Mister Riley reported.
“Very well. Mister Chiles, take us out of orbit.”
“Aye, Captain, breaking orbit,” the helmsman answered.
Nathan raised his hand slightly. “Tactical, kill the aft view.” A moment later, the aft camera disappeared, leaving only the image of the planet Corinair as it began to fall away. “I hope that’s not the last time we see her,” Nathan mumbled as he watched the planet fall away. He noticed both his helmsman and navigator as they looked at each other, then back at Nathan. “Just a figure of speech, gentlemen.” As the flight team returned their gazes to their consoles, Nathan glanced to his right toward Cameron just in time to receive a scolding look from her. Nathan shrugged.
“Jumping to first waypoint in five seconds,” Mister Riley reported.
Nathan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was about to embark on the biggest campaign that anyone from Earth had fought in for over a thousand years. He found his thoughts wandering back to Earth, wondering what his parents, his sisters, even his older brother Eli, were all doing at that moment. Did they wonder what had become of him? Did they even know he was missing? He was sure his father did as he was very well connected. It suddenly dawned on Nathan that his father’s bid for the North American presidency was about to go to the polls. If they made it through the next battle and eventually made it back to Earth, his father could be sitting in the capital building in Minneapolis when the Aurora made orbit overhead.
His thoughts were interrupted when the bridge filled with the flash of the first jump.
“Jump complete,” Mister Riley reported. “Plotting second jump.”
“What were you thinking?” Cameron asked, having realized that Nathan’s mind had been somewhere else.
“Nothing, just thinking of home,” he answered. A small laugh escaped his lips. “Funny how all I wanted was to get away from there for a while. Now all I can think about is getting back.”
“Second jump plotted,” Mister Riley reported. “Jumping in five seconds.”
“What will you do when you get back?” Cameron asked.
“Before or after the court martial?” Nathan mused.
The bridge again filled with the flash of the jump.
“You know what I mean,” Cameron said.
“Jump complete,” Mister Riley reported.
“Threats?” Nathan asked.
“Threat board is clear,” the tactical officer, Mister Randeen, reported. “The only contacts in the area are the cargo shuttles and their escorts.”
“Very well. Take us to the staging point,” Nathan ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
“Comms,” Nathan said, “let flight ops know they have a green deck.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll see that the cargo shuttle crews are relieved as well,” Cameron stated. “I’m sure they could use a shower and a meal after sitting in the middle of deep space for ten hours.”
“Good idea,” Nathan agreed. “How long until Josh and Loki return from their recon?”
“Four hours,” Cameron answered. “It will take us just over five hours to recharge the jump drive’s energy banks to full power. After that, we’ll be as ready as we can be.”
“Very well. As soon as we get on station, deploy the staging platform,” Nathan ordered as he rose from his seat. “Have the tug dock it to our starboard boarding hatch. We never got a chance to check the outer hull on our forward port side after those fighters plowed into us. Let’s not take any unnecessary chances.”
“Yes, sir,” Cameron answered as Nathan moved past her.
“And make sure everyone gets some rest over the next few hours,” he added as he moved toward the exit.
“Where will you be?” Cameron asked, surprised he was leaving the bridge.
“I feel the need to walk the ship,” he told her. “You have the conn, Commander.”
* * *
After visiting engineering, jump control, the flight deck, and flight operations, Nathan found himself standing in the Aurora’s eerily empty medical facility. The main treatment room was empty with only the central overhead lighting turned on. All the lights and monitors at the heads of each of the twelve treatment beds were turned off, leaving unusual shadows cast across the beds.
Nathan stood there for a moment, remembering the various scenes of carnage and despair that had painted this room in the past. Many lives had been both lost and saved here, and most of them had one thing in common; they had happened under his command.
He continued moving deeper into the room, looking to his left and right. There were a few new devices on the walls, undoubtedly brought on board by the Corinairan doctors who, according to Doctor Chen, were considerably more advanced than the physicians of Earth. In fact, the entire medical facility had nearly doubled in size. Nearby compartments had been re-tasked and joined with the main facility to increase both its treatment and recovery capabilities. Most of the crew quarters used by medical personnel had been similarly sacrificed in order to provide long-term recovery beds closer to the main medical facility. This had required that much of the medical staff, most of whom were officers, shared their quarters.
Nathan had always wondered why the designers of the Aurora and her sister ship, the Celestia, had not thought it necessary to give his ship a larger medical section. After all, unlike the Defender class ships that never left the Sol system, the newer, Explorer class ships were FTL capable and were expected to be away for many months at a time. Had the people of Earth really not expected their new ships to suffer such heavy losses? It seemed hard to believe, but then again, at the time, the movement for peace had been strong. The opposition to the construction of the Aurora and the Celestia had been significant.
As Nathan approached the other end of the treatment room, he half expected Doctor Chen to come walking out of the utility room in the back, her medical scrubs smeared with blood. That room, however, was dark. The room to his left was not. Nathan hesitated for a moment. The last time he had looked i
n that room, it had been stacked with the bodies of the dead just after they had destroyed the Campaglia. That had been the day that Captain Roberts had died and placed the burden of command on Nathan’s shoulders.
Someone was in the room; he could hear them shift in their chair. He turned and walked toward the room, peeking in slowly so as not to disturb. As he entered the room, he could see Doctor Chen, the petite young woman that she was, her face buried in a data pad as she studied its display screen. Her jet black hair was straight and neatly combed, tied back in a tail that hung down across one side of her neck. Her uniform was neat and tidy, and for once, she was not covered with the blood of others. At that moment, she did not appear the stoic, young physician that had kept the remaining crew of the Aurora alive for all those weeks. Instead, she appeared to be just another young, female fleet officer sitting at her desk, reading reports.
“Doctor,” Nathan said, announcing his presence as gently as he could. The attempt was unnecessary, as by now, with all that she had been through in the last few months, she was no longer easily startled.
Her eyes rose first, checking the identity of her guest, her head following suit when she realized who it was. “Captain Scott, I was not expecting you. Is everything all right?”
“Fine, thanks,” he answered, moving further into the room. “What are you reading?”
“Corinairan triage protocols,” she explained. “They’re somewhat different than ours.”
“Don’t junior staff usually handle triage?”
“With the level of knowledge the Corinairan physicians carry, I pretty much am the junior staff around here,” she admitted.
“I didn’t realize.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she assured him, turning off her data pad and setting it down on the desk. “I am learning a lot, and they are never condescending about their superior medical skills. Besides, with all of them available to handle the majority of the patient care, I have found more time to manage the department.”
“Speaking of doctors, where are they?” Nathan asked. “The place seems empty.”