by Jim C. Hines
“Forget that. I’ve got something else for you to break.”
Wolf threw herself into the new job with her usual enthusiasm. Within five minutes, she’d cut into the shuttle’s belly and was pawing through insulation and protective panels. Within ten, she’d exposed the spherical mechanism of the primary scanners.
“You know if this works, we’re blind again,” said Monroe.
“We’re running out of time,” said Mops. “The only other option I see is to leave it alone and hope the docking clamps keep the shuttle from launching.”
Monroe shook his head. “Once the engines fire up, it’ll rip them right out of the floor.”
Something popped beneath the shuttle, showering blue sparks onto Wolf’s head. She cursed and scooted away.
“Sensors are dead,” Azure shouted down.
“Ha!” Wolf switched off her torch, bounded to her feet, and patted her hair to make sure it wasn’t burning. “What next?”
“We don’t have time for anything more,” said Mops. “Either that worked, or else . . .”
“We’ll know either way in a few minutes,” added Monroe.
“Kumar, Azure, come on out.” They didn’t respond. Mops frowned and stepped through the debris to peer inside the shuttle. She could hear Kumar and Azure arguing. “Everything all right up there?”
“We picked up multiple A-ring signatures on the scanner,” said Kumar. “But Wolf broke it before I could get a better look.”
“We saw many false and ridiculous readings as your human was working on the sensor unit,” argued Azure. “Including a galaxy-sized supernova, a trio of black holes, and an extreme close-up of a human nostril.”
“That’s the point,” Kumar pressed. “Those A-ring readings weren’t ridiculous. They were consistent with Prodryan warships and carriers.”
“You said the Prodryans weren’t supposed to launch their attack for another nine hours,” Mops said.
“I thought so, too,” said Azure. “It’s possible there was a miscommunication. Or perhaps Heart of Glass is simply eager to begin killing Krakau. If the readings were correct.”
“Do we still have communications?”
“I think so,” said Azure.
Mops pulled herself into the shuttle. The shuttle which, so far, hadn’t exploded or tried to fly away. “If a Prodryan war fleet just popped into the system, maybe that will convince someone to listen to us.”
“Admiral Pachelbel?”
A bubbled groan escaped her mouth. Dull aches throbbed from the tips of her extremities to her torso, like waves crashing together in a spray of pain. She was too old to be jumping about the galaxy like this. “I’m awake. What’s our status?”
“We decelerated four hours ago, and were towed to the Basin. We’re preparing to dock.”
The Basin was a military prison in low orbit around Dobranok. Matching speed to intercept and dock could take hours. Pachelbel climbed out of her acceleration chamber and looked around the impersonal quarters she’d been assigned while on board the Sky Serpent. The brine pool had refilled after the jump, and she eased herself gratefully into the warm, salty water. “Any word on the Pufferfish?”
The answer came promptly from the speaker by the door. “That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. The Pufferfish is in-system. They’re attempting to communicate . . . we think. The readings are odd.”
Pachelbel froze. “That ship was locked down. Priority nine. How the depths are they communicating?”
“Our techs suggest the signal is coming from a Glacidae-built transmitter. Possibly from the shuttle they picked up at Paxif 6.”
She sank deeper into the water. “Exactly how many people have picked up this signal?”
“Unknown. They’re broadcasting to anyone in range. Captain Mbube is the only one who’s made direct contact, and that was more than an hour ago.”
“What does Mops want?” asked Pachelbel.
There was a pause, probably so her aide could verify who “Mops” was. “In an earlier communication with Captain Mbube, Lieutenant Adamopoulos said something about an attack by Prodryans. She believes the Prodryans aren’t targeting Earth, but Dobranok.”
Pachelbel curled and relaxed her primary tentacles as she pondered that warning. “Did she give any evidence?”
“Captain Mbube terminated communications before the human could explain.”
“I see.” She couldn’t blame Mbube. Regulations surrounding potential Rokkau contact were strict. The captain risked serious disciplinary action for responding at all. “Was there anything more?”
“Yes. Our sensors have detected a Prodryan war fleet entering the system. We estimate they’ll be within weapons range in one hour, fifty minutes.”
AZURE AND WOLF CROWDED over the shuttle’s communications console. “I never thought I’d miss Puffy,” muttered Wolf. “Wait, what about that switch?”
“That is the translator,” Azure said, one tentacle twitching impatiently. “As I explained three minutes ago.”
“Next time, explain better,” Wolf shot back.
Mops watched from the back of the cockpit. Azure hadn’t tried to poison Wolf yet, and Wolf hadn’t threatened to eat the Rokkau. They were getting along better than Mops had expected.
The console buzzed sharply, like an angry wasp trying to escape. “What did you touch?” snapped Azure.
“Nothing! We’ve got an incoming signal. I think.”
Mops scooted closer. “Is it Captain Mbube again?”
“Yes,” said Azure, simultaneous with Wolf’s “Nope.”
“Look at the signal strength.” Wolf pointed to an indicator that meant nothing to Mops. “Completely different from the transmission we got earlier.”
“Look at the vector.” Azure slapped a tentacle against the console.
“Why don’t we acknowledge the signal and find out?” Mops suggested gently.
Azure and Wolf both reached for the controls, but Azure was faster. Mops wasn’t sure how exactly the Rokkau made flicking a switch look smug, but Azure managed.
“This is Admiral Pachelbel. Mops, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
“Told you,” whispered Wolf.
Mops squeezed between them before they could escalate. “Admiral, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice. Is this connection secure?”
“I’m hardly about to contact a treasonous crew harboring a level nine fugitive on an open, unencrypted channel.”
There was no lag time. Pachelbel was here. “Could you please check things on our end? We haven’t fully mastered our communications system.”
There was a pause. “You’re secure. I’m told you wanted to talk to me. Talk fast.”
“Yes, sir.” Mops took a deep breath. “Am I correct in stating that a Prodryan fleet has entered the system?”
“You are,” Pachelbel said softly. “It’s been suggested that they’re here on your behalf, or as part of a joint plan between you and the Prodryans. Your knowledge of their arrival makes me take those suggestions more seriously.”
“Are you alone, sir?” asked Mops. “Is anyone else listening in?”
Another pause. “I’m alone.”
Mops turned to Azure. “Can this thing do visual?”
This time Wolf was faster, jabbing a button near the top of the console. An image of Admiral Pachelbel appeared on the screen. She sat half-submerged in a dimly lit pool. A green-tinged visor circled her head, an interface similar in design and function to Mops’ monocle.
“Admiral,” said Mops. “This is Azure.”
“Level nine fugitive,” added Azure. She’d gone still, like a predator preparing to lunge. “That sounds important.”
The admiral stared for a long time. “She’s injured. What happened?”
“I shot off one of her tentacl
es,” said Mops. “We reached an understanding after that. Azure told me what the Krakau did to her people. She also told me what really happened to humanity when the Krakau and Rokkau first arrived on our planet.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Right now, I’m more inclined to trust her than you. The Krakau have lied to us from the beginning. All Azure did was try to kill us.” That had sounded better in her head.
“Lieutenant . . . Mops.” Pachelbel sank into the water, until the lower curve of her beak touched the surface. “It’s not that simple. Nothing ever is.”
“Which part is the most complicated?” asked Mops. “The truth about how your contact mission to Earth infected my planet? How you left us to die? Or maybe the part where you banished the Rokkau to a prison planet.”
The admiral bolted from the water. “What prison planet? What are you talking about?”
“After your war with the Rokkau.” Mops glanced at Azure, but if Rokkau body language was at all similar to Krakau, Azure was as confused as anyone else. “When your people rounded up the surviving Rokkau?”
“There were no surviving Rokkau,” Pachelbel said. “Aside from a few small groups who escaped Dobranok.”
“You lie,” shouted Azure. “I’ve seen the records, stolen from Homeworld Military Command more than a hundred years ago. Every free Rokkau has. We read the full list of names as part of a ceremony marking our ninth year. Well, more skim than read . . . there are more than a million names . . . I doubt anyone truly reads them all, but still!”
“If HMC has such records, they haven’t shared them with Interstellar Military Command,” said Pachelbel.
“No surprise there,” Mops shot back. “We know how good the Krakau are at keeping secrets.”
That earned a flinch. The admiral turned slightly, probably checking something on her visor. “I’m . . . concerned by these allegations, but right now we have a hostile force incoming, and I need to coordinate with Planetary Defense. Was there something more you needed to tell me?”
Mops bit her lip, briefly tempted to say nothing. To restore the shuttle and let it dump its contents onto Dobranok. “Don’t let the Prodryans anywhere near the planet. The bioweapon they used against the Pufferfish doesn’t just revert humans. It’s been modified to kill Krakau.”
Pachelbel’s response was a long, stuttering whistle the communications console failed to translate.
“I’ve never heard that phrase before,” Doc said quietly. “Something about a spiny coral and an excretory orifice.”
“You’re certain?” asked Pachelbel. “I’m told the bioweapon was a form of Krakau venom. We should be immune.”
“Rokkau venom,” Azure said sharply.
“Captain Brandenburg and the rest of our command crew died immediately after the attack,” said Mops. “I thought . . . I assumed at first that feral humans had killed them, but their bodies were undamaged. Azure confirmed it.”
“Is there a cure?”
“Yes,” said Mops. “We have a sample on board, along with the Glacidae chemist and criminal who helped make it. My question to you is how badly you want them.”
Pachelbel made the clicking equivalent of a chuckle. “People have argued about letting humans get too intelligent. I’m afraid you give strength to those arguments. What’s your price, Mops?”
“Cure my crew,” she said without hesitation. “They know nothing about Rokkau or venom or what happened to Earth. If I give you the counteragent, you promise to use it to restore them.”
“They will need to be thoroughly debriefed,” Pachelbel said slowly, “but I can probably arrange that. Assuming they’re unaware of anything that’s transpired on the Pufferfish, they will not be harmed. I’ll send a shuttle to retrieve—”
“I wasn’t finished.” Mops smiled. “I’ll also need you to reactivate the Pufferfish. Give me full control of my ship, and override that Rokkau-triggered subroutine you buried in Doc and the rest of our monocles.”
Pachelbel flicked two tentacles in polite disbelief. “You’re a wanted criminal, and you expect me to simply give you a cruiser?”
“You’ve got enemy ships en route, and your defenses are pretty thin. An EMC cruiser could make a real difference in the outcome. I’ll be on the bridge with the cure, waiting for your answer. If I don’t hear from you . . . well, I guess that’s an answer, too.”
The team’s first obstacle was getting back up to the air vent to escape the docking bay. Climbing down a cord of twisted tape was one thing, but getting enough of a grip to pull yourself back up was pretty much impossible. They ended up forming a human ladder to push and pull one another up, an exercise that reminded Mops of team-building challenges from basic training. She’d never liked those challenges.
By then, most of the crew was awake and stumbling about, making the journey through the ship that much more exciting. Three times they doubled back to find another route rather than fight their own feral shipmates.
Main power returned while they were on deck C. Lights brightened, and air vents hummed to life, wafting a cool breeze through the corridor.
“Let there be light!” Doc crowed. “I’m getting readings from various ship’s systems. It will take a few minutes for everything to come up before I can give you a full status report.”
“There’s a lift up this way,” said Kumar. “It’ll be faster.”
“Wait.” Mops turned to look directly at Azure. “Doc, are you still there?”
“I haven’t suddenly been possessed by phantom code, if that’s what you mean. Either the admiral switched off that subroutine, or else nothing’s happening because we’re already approaching Dobranok.”
“Do we have a clear route to the bridge?”
“Private Balboa is lurking in front of the lift. Let me lure her away.” The murmur of distant conversation reached Mops’ ears. “She’s moving. Give her a moment to follow the sounds, and you’ll be fine.”
Three minutes later, Mops was stepping out of the lift onto the bridge. The station consoles were in standby mode, and the main screen had defaulted to a status overview of the Pufferfish. It confirmed the ship was in rough shape. One weapons pod was out of commission, the other two completely depleted of missiles. Hull integrity was holding, but green patches dotted the ship’s skin like a rash, showing where emergency bulkheads and sealant had patched various breaches. The ship would need serious repairs for long-term stability.
“In other news, we have a minor plumbing emergency on deck F. Technician Stark got his arm stuck in the toilet.”
“We know he’s not going anywhere, then.” Mops took her seat and checked her console. “Give me Tactical.”
“Yes, sir,” said Monroe. The status screen vanished, replaced by a smaller representation of the Pufferfish, surrounded by tow ships. The curve of the planet dominated the lower right corner of the screen. A small dot labeled “The Basin” raced away from the ship, making the orbiting prison appear to chase the horizon.
“Zoom out,” said Mops. “Who else is here?”
The next view brought a sharp breath from Kumar and a curse from Wolf.
“Did they send the entire Prodryan fleet?” whispered Kumar.
“Prodryans don’t have a unified military,” said Monroe, staring at the screen. Four clusters of ships, all tagged green as hostiles, were closing on Dobranok from different directions. Krakau ships, marked in blue, had begun to form a perimeter around the planet.
“The Krakau are just going to sit here and wait?” asked Wolf.
Mops skimmed the force summaries for both sides. In addition to fourteen warships and twenty-three cruiser-class vessels, the Prodryans had sent eleven carriers, each of which could hold twenty small fighter craft. “Looks like Homeworld Military Command is launching more ships from the planet and the two moons. Probably trying to get as much firepower together as they c
an before heading out to intercept the Prodryan fleets.”
A brief flicker of light marked the destruction of a Krakau long-range security buoy.
“Why attack nine hours early?” Mops whispered. Azure had guessed it was a miscommunication or simple bloodthirsty eagerness, but Heart of Glass hadn’t made such mistakes before.
Azure lurked by the lift door, her attention fixed on the screen. It couldn’t be easy seeing alien warships closing in on her species’ home world, even a home world she’d never known. “They intend to raid the shipyards and take as much military technology as they can, but they know the Alliance won’t let them stay. Once they leave, Dobranok will be our world.”
“Whatever’s left of it.” Mops looked back to the screen. “It’s a race. Four groups of Prodryans, each one hoping to reach Dobranok first and claim the best loot for themselves. One group probably made the jump early, and the rest followed to keep anyone else from getting the advantage.”
Krakau ships began to separate into five defensive formations. Four curved away from the planet on intercept courses, while the fifth spread about Dobranok.
“Do we know who those four fleets serve?” asked Mops.
“Not from here,” said Kumar. “Prodryans don’t broadcast ID registries, and we’re too far out for visual identification.”
“Heart of Glass will be in one of the command ships,” whispered Azure. “He spoke of the glory of this attack, the shock waves it would send throughout the galaxy. He would not allow anyone else to usurp his place in history.”
Mops spun. “Wolf, send a message to Admiral Pachelbel. Short-range, tight-beam. If a single Prodryan picks this up, we’re dead.”
Azure shuddered. “We’re all going to die.”
Wolf glared plasma beams at the Rokkau, but continued working on the signal parameters. “Go ahead, sir.”
“Admiral, this is Mops. Tell your tow ships to prepare to break off. We’re going to disrupt the Prodryans’ attack.”