by Jaleta Clegg
Hector shook his head, looking up from his mug. Worry lines creased his forehead. "Their vector is wrong for an approach to the station. Or it was last time we picked them up. We lost them in a burst of interference from the star."
"Is it possible they just didn't hear you?"
Hector shrugged. "Possible but not likely."
"When was your database last updated?"
"Three weeks ago." Hector frowned. "You think I'm overreacting."
"Quite the contrary. It doesn't make sense. And I don't like things that don't make sense. Could they be meeting up with someone?"
"If they were Patrol, why are they hiding? And why are their beacons decommissioned?"
"Pirates? They have been known to steal beacons and sell them on the black market." He didn't add that he had personally bought more than a few stolen beacons. As part of his job, of course.
"If they are, and if they decide to attack, we're in trouble," Hector said grimly. "The beacons were from scout ships, couriers, but the ships we scanned were cruisers, hunter class. The station doesn't stand a chance against them."
That got Lowell's full attention. "What ships are docked?"
"Seventeen cargo ships, five ore haulers, and six couriers on the civilian side," Hector said. He leaned forward, his voice low. "We've got three cutters, one hunter in for repairs, and your Seeker. The station does have shields, but they're more for solar radiation than weapons fire."
Lowell cursed, very quietly and very calmly. The cutters had weapons, true, barely enough to clear a bad asteroid swarm. The hunter had no functional engine. Chained to the station for repairs, its weapons were unusable. The Seeker, hunter class but small, had weapons but was no match for three larger ships. Sending them out would be suicide. Lowell stood, dropping a credit chip on the table to pay for the drinks.
"Take me back to your control station," he said.
Hector led the way out of the cafe. They hurried through the station, just beginning to wake up for another day. Sleepy workers watched them hurry past. Lowell wondered what rumors had just been started. Not that it would matter.
The control station for the Patrol was a warren of rooms filled with monitoring and scanning equipment. Lowell followed Hector, ignoring the hasty salutes he got. Hector led them into a larger room. Two women monitored a large array of scanning and communications equipment.
The younger woman glanced up at them. Her hair, shiny black, was pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Her dark eyes were worried. "We've picked them up again, sir. They're headed this way now. They still haven't answered our calls."
"Keep monitoring them," Hector said, patting the woman on her shoulder.
"What beacon ids are they showing?" Lowell asked the woman.
She read three names off her screen. Lowell went still, thinking furiously.
"What?" Hector demanded.
"They weren't decommissioned," Lowell said abruptly. "Those three were stolen. Someone wanted us to believe they'd defected to the Federation, but they overlooked a few crucial details, such as crew postings to those ships."
"How would you know that, sir?" Hector asked, his tone full of suspicion.
"Because I'm not really an admiral," Lowell answered. "Contact the stationmaster and tell him to evacuate what he can. He doesn't have much time."
Hector made no move to obey. The two techs watched them, openly nervous.
"Are you sure you want to question my authority?" Lowell asked Hector.
"If you aren't an admiral, who are you?"
Lowell hated to pull rank. He also hated to see people die.
"Commander Grant Lowell, of High Command," he said quietly.
"And your proof, sir?" Hector wasn't budging an inch. He wasn't going to accept Lowell's word.
Lowell sighed. "Can we do this in your office? We really don't have much time."
Hector brushed past him to open a door across the corridor from the scanning station. Lowell went straight to his comp pad.
"Id scan. Confirm identity." He placed his hand on the pad.
A moment later, words appeared on screen. Hector bent over to read them.
"Do you want my personal file as well?" Lowell asked. "Or is the official Patrol record enough for you?"
"My apologies, sir," Hector said hastily. He snapped to attention.
Lowell waved him down. "We really don't have much time, Commander. Please, call the stationmaster. And the base commander."
"Sir?" The other scan tech warily peered into the office.
"Yes?" Hector answered her. Habit overcame his shock at having one of the High Command in his office. He turned to his officer.
"Another ship just downshifted, far out," she said. "It's a full battle cruiser. We caught a burst between it and the other three. All of them are accelerating towards us. We've got maybe forty minutes before the first three get here."
"Still no contact?" Hector asked.
She shook her head, her short blond hair bobbing against her cheek.
"Keep monitoring all three," Hector ordered. He waited until she left before turning back to Lowell.
"Call them, now," Lowell said. He was certain of what was going to happen. He started for the door.
"It would be better if you talked to them," Hector said, still hesitating over the com link.
"No, it would be better if you did," Lowell said. "Tell them what you've got."
"Where are you going, sir?"
"To give orders to the Seeker." He read the almost-panic in Hector's face. "I'll be back soon. Until then, Commander, do your duty and take command. You have a very limited time to evacuate what you can." He paused in the doorway. "And I'd recommend avoiding starting a panic. Someone might get hurt."
Lowell noted the tension in the Patrol control station. He was fully aware of the furtive looks he got as he walked through. He also noted with approval that all the techs were still at their stations, still performing their jobs.
The docks outside the station were busy, as usual, day shift workers arriving to relieve their night shift counterparts. There was no sign of impending attack out here. Lowell walked quickly through the organized confusion of ship maintenance and freight handling that cluttered the docking bays.
The Seeker's hatch stood open, a single ensign standing guard outside. He looked young and bored, staring sleepily at the bustle of the dock. He snapped to attention as Lowell approached. Lowell nodded to him as he entered the ship.
The ship was quiet, the hush that spoke of minimal crew aboard. It was expected, the ship was in dock and they were supposedly on leave for another three days.
Captain Amon was in his quarters, eating breakfast while scanning through the ship's log. He glanced up as Lowell paused to knock at the open door.
"Come in," the captain said. "What brings you back here? I thought we weren't scheduled to leave for another three days. The engineers are still working on realigning the drive shaft."
"Can they finish in less than fifteen minutes?" Lowell asked.
Amon looked up sharply. "Trouble?"
"When is it not?" Lowell said tiredly. He sat across the tiny table from the captain. "We have four ships, stolen Patrol cruisers, on their way. They aren't talking to anyone."
Amon didn't stop to question. He snapped his com on. "Verix? Have the engineers button up the engines. We've got ten minutes to recall crew and be ready for undocking."
Lowell stood, helping himself to a muffin on the captain's breakfast tray. It might be the only food he got for hours.
"Your orders, sir?" Amon asked.
"I won't ask you to sacrifice your ship and crew trying to defend the station," Lowell said. "It's suicide. Take as many evacuees as you can. Get to Tebros and let them know what's happened."
"And you, sir?"
"If I'm not here when you get the order to leave, don't wait. I'll find my own way if I need to."
Amon didn't question his orders. He nodded acceptance and turned back to his com,
already busy recalling his crew.
Lowell went back to Patrol headquarters. Tension was beginning to seep across the docks like poison spreading through the air. He got more than a few curious looks as he hurried.
The control station was in an uproar. Personnel had tripled in the few minutes he was gone. Many of them were yawning, their uniforms showing evidence of hasty dressing. Lowell heard the yelling from Hector's office long before he got there.
"What do you mean, going over my head and telling the stationmaster to evacuate?" The voice of the base commander carried. There was a pause, the distant mumble of Hector's explanation. "I don't care who he is, you take orders from me, not some trumped up admiral who wouldn't know…"
Blaise, the base commander, rumbled to a stop as Lowell entered the office.
"I wouldn't know what, Commander?" Lowell asked.
"You're overstepping your authority here," Blaise said coldly. "You had the nerve to have me woken up and dragged down here for a routine patrol sighting."
"I don't think so, Commander," Lowell said. "We don't have time for this. Why isn't the evacuation signal sounding?"
"Because the stationmaster and I don't think it's necessary to panic everyone. There is no indication of a threat. It would disrupt the entire week's schedule." Blaise crossed his burly arms over his chest, clear signal that he wasn't going to let Lowell convince him.
"You're making a mistake," Lowell said, his voice low, "one that could cost most of the people on this station their lives. What is the arrival estimate?" he asked Hector.
"Thirty seven minutes for the first three," Hector answered. "Judging by their last position. We've lost them again. Solar flares are blinding us."
"And their weapons?" Lowell asked, his eyes locked on Blaise. The base commander returned his glare.
"Charging, from what we could read," Hector answered.
"The beacons on those ships are stolen," Lowell said to Blaise. "Your station is about to come under attack, one which it cannot possibly hope to survive intact. How many lives are you willing to try to save?"
Blaise stared stonily at Lowell, refusing to answer.
"Then you are relieved of duty, Commander." Lowell deliberately turned away from him. "Commander Vidalis," he addressed Hector, "please have Commander Blaise escorted out of the station. Have him evacuate with the day shift. The Seeker is standing by."
Hector swallowed hard and nodded.
"You can't do this," Blaise shouted. "You have no authority here, Admiral."
"Quite the contrary," Lowell informed him. "And the rank is not admiral."
"He's High Command," Hector said, over his shoulder.
The color drained from Blaise's face. He took one step back, an involuntary reaction.
"Take your people and evacuate them," Lowell ordered. "Leave only the essential personnel."
He turned away from Blaise, dismissing him. He still had the stationmaster to convince.
Five minutes later, the evacuation warning blared through the station. Hector had his men in position to keep things orderly. Or as much order as could be expected. Blaise was on the Seeker with at least half the Patrol personnel.
Ships left as soon as they could be cleared, running as fast as they could for Tebros. Even with all ships loaded to capacity, more than half the population of the station would have to stay. The stationmaster was relocating them to the inner portions of the station, where they might have a chance of survival.
"Call for you, sir," the com tech informed him as he walked past.
He turned to take the call. "Lowell," he identified himself.
"We're loaded, sir," Amon informed him.
"Don't wait for me," Lowell said. "Get to Tebros and have them send what they can back as fast as possible."
"You're staying?" He heard the concern in Amon's voice. The Seeker had been assigned to Lowell for only three months, but he and Captain Amon had developed not quite a friendship, more of a mutual respect.
"Good luck, Captain," Lowell said as he signed off. Amon would understand his orders. Amon would carry out those orders. Rescue would arrive within five days. All Lowell had to do was keep the station as close to one piece as he could and as many people alive as possible.
"We've got most of the lower decks cleared," the stationmaster reported in. "There are still a hundred or so on the upper decks that are looking for room on ships. It's going to be tight and the merchants are screaming about being paid."
"The Patrol should cover it," Lowell assured the man.
"If there are any Patrol left at Tebros when they get there," the man said glumly. "We've heard rumors for the last month that the Patrol was pulling back. We were just waiting for them to leave here. Which is why we're being attacked by rogue Patrol ships." It was a veiled accusation. The man believed Lowell was responsible. Maybe he was right.
"Stolen Patrol beacons on pirate ships," Lowell corrected absently. The latest report had the three cruisers less than fifteen minutes out and coming in fast. "Your ships have less than five minutes to undock and run," he added.
The stationmaster said a few choice words that summed up the situation as he signed off.
Lowell leaned back in the chair he'd commandeered from one of the com stations. Hector hovered near him, twisting his hands nervously.
"What's the last reported position?" Lowell asked.
"We just picked them up again, sir," the scan tech answered, a different woman, older and steadier. "They've slowed a bit. We read seventeen minutes until they are in range of the station."
"Is everyone evacuated who could be?" Lowell asked Hector.
The man nodded, bobbing his head like a lizard. "Commander Blaise was not happy at the way you handled him."
"But he's on the Seeker and he will survive." Lowell's voice was flat. He had no sympathy to spare for Patrol commanders with inflated opinions of themselves, not even if the name was Grant Lowell.
"Scan results are on the screen," the tech informed him. "Time delay is minimal."
Lowell nodded, shifting his attention to the large screen mounted above the banks of equipment.
Three red dots sped towards the silver marker for Viya Station and the large white circle of the gas giant planet it orbited. A handful of blue and green and yellow symbols moved away from the station. They were accelerating. One by one they began to blink out, passing into hyperspace and off the sensors. A last scattering of dots left the station, running as fast as they could. One red dot turned off to pursue them.
"We're picking up a signal from the ship," the tech said. "They're scanning the ships that are leaving."
Lowell held his breath, waiting for the ship to open fire. It never happened. The red dot turned to join the two others bearing down on the station.
"They're broadcasting a message, sir," the tech said. Without asking, she transferred it to the room's speakers.
"… for Viya Station command," the message said, the first words cut off by the transfer. "This is Abilene, of the Federation. You have five minutes to make your decision. Join the Federation or we will be forced to destroy your station. You show your loyalty to the Federation by having the Patrol personnel based on your station secured and ready to hand over when we dock. Five minutes."
The voice cut off.
"What are we going to do?" Hector asked.
Lowell glanced around the room. Those in Patrol uniform were frozen in place, watching him, waiting for him to tell them the way out of the situation. He reached forward and pressed a button.
"Stationmaster Cartrane?" he asked over the com.
"You heard?" Cartrane asked in return.
"You have just over four minutes to make a decision," Lowell said. "What will it be?"
There was dead silence in the room and over the com. Lowell sat and waited.
"I'll send security guards down to detain you," Cartrane said. "I'm sorry. We can't fight them. There are still families on the station."
"I understand," Low
ell said. And he did. Cartrane was doing what he felt best, protecting as many of his people as he could. The Patrol on station were the price he had to pay. A handful of lives to save many. Lowell would have made the same decision.
"He's selling us out," someone behind Lowell complained. Murmurs swept through the room, turning ugly.
"He is doing what he has to," Lowell said sharply. He stood and turned to face the people assembled in the room. "Is everyone here? Good. As of this moment, I will accept any and all resignations."
They stared at him, uncomprehending.
"If you resign in the next minute, you won't be Patrol anymore and so won't be detained," Lowell explained more patiently than he felt. "Anyone still in uniform when Cartrane's people arrive will be considered still in the Patrol."
There was a mad scramble for the door and quarters. Hector Vidalis, interim commander of Viya Station Base, was the only one who remained.
"If they arrive and there are no Patrol, they will be suspicious," Hector said. "As base commander, however I was promoted, it is my duty to stay."
"Then at least I'll have company I can respect," Lowell said with a smile.
They were the only two left in the Patrol base when Cartrane's people arrived to arrest them. Neither offered any resistance.
Chapter 35
We walked for several days. I was no longer keeping track. I spent most of my time in a trance. I felt the others inside and around me constantly. Their thoughts and emotions traced an invisible web around me. The girl was accepted. She began to spend more time with Bei'sool. I wasn't jealous. I was part of the group, a single leaf on a tree, a single coil from an engine. By myself I was useless, I was nothing. As part of them, I belonged, I was whole. I had finally found who I was.
I didn't pay any attention to where we were going. We went down, mostly. It snowed several times, leaving deeper drifts for us to push our way through. I took my turn at everything, even cooking. I immersed myself in the group mind until I could barely remember who I was as an individual. Lanoni'lai encouraged me, wrapping me in her thoughts. They were like bright fish schooling around me. Bei'sool fed my feelings of contentment and belonging.