Slipspace: Harbinger

by P. C. Haring

  “We’re ready over here, Captain. What do you want me to do with them?”

  Amado allowed himself a wry smile as he keyed a series of coordinates into his console and transmitted it to his engineer.

  “Shove ‘em.”

  Melor took one look at her data and smiled the same wry smile. She went to work and within seconds Amado watched as the freighters came about to their new headings and accelerated. They surged forward, driving to their destination. They smashed into the cruiser, colliding with the organs in the central aft segment responsible for propulsion. Three of the remaining five freighters struck their target, erupting in a ball of fire that took out the remaining two in collateral damage.

  He had hoped all five would get through, but the damage from the three proved to be enough. Secondary explosions ripped through the cruiser’s carapace, tearing it apart. The Mjöllnir’s rail positions continued their onslaught, and ripped through the creature with a new effectiveness. The Ralgon’s own defenses had fallen.

  “Finish this, Mr. Aler.”

  The heavy cannons erupted once again in sequence, each ripping through the cruiser like a blowtorch melting ice. The ship began to list as it lost stability and control. More secondary explosions ravaged the burning Ralgon before it erupted in a flash of light and fire, blinding the sensor’s resolution. When it cleared, the ship had been replaced by debris. Amado sighed with relief.

  “Well done, people. Stand us down to condition three. Melor, prepare me a full damage report and repair schedule. Cassie, send for Colonel Foster, I’d like to speak with him.”

  “Captain.”

  Aler’s interruption drew the Captain’s attention.

  “Captain,” he started, his voice low and somber. “Colonel Foster is K.I.A. He died covering our retreat. I’m sorry, sir.”

  Amado’s head fell and he leaned forward against the display. Rage boiled, but he fought it down.

  “Pilot, lay in vectors back to Surahan; all ahead full. Cassie, you have the deck.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  November 5, 2832

  13:00

  Mjöllnir - Med Deck

  CASSIE’S HAND trembled as she stood at the side of the table where the remains of Marcus Foster lay awaiting the final medical exams. She couldn’t bring herself to think, much less say, the word. That word. That ‘A’ word. That was only done to nameless corpses, not to people. She had been in OpCom when Aler had reported him KIA and she had no reason to doubt his word. But even so, a part of her refused to believe. Foster was not dead. He was just somewhere else on the ship and in a ship this big it was easy to get turned around and find yourself somewhere you didn’t expect to be. She wasn’t so naive as to believe that either, but at the same time, she needed to see for herself. She needed to witness him.

  She stood at the side of the exam table, clenching her fist and willing her hands to stop shaking. But the longer she stood there, the worse it felt.

  “Commander?”

  Nira’s voice pulled her back and Cassie turned to her, hesitating yet another moment, before giving a nod to the unasked question. She was as ready as she would ever be. She pulled the sheet down, uncovering the face and the air left Cassie’s lungs. Her heart pounded as she lowered her head and fought to regain control of her ragged breathing. By the time she could bear to look at him again, Nira had folded the sheet neatly across his chest

  “I’ll uh,” she said, “I’ll be in my office. Take all the time you need.”

  “Wait.”

  Nira stopped and resumed her place at the opposite side of the table.

  “I would like to see the wound, please.”

  “Are you sure, Cassie? It’s been cleaned as best as possible, but it could still be traumatic to see.”

  “Yes, Doctor. Please.”

  Nira nodded and silently pulled the sheet down to his waist. The Ralgon’s claw pincer had been removed and the wound cleaned, just as Nira had said. The medical staff had also removed Fosters prosthetic arm.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Nira gave another silent nod before turning for the exit.

  Tears welled in Cassie’s eyes and she took in a deep breath, fighting to keep the inevitable at bay. It would be useless, she knew, but she would try anyway. The Ralgon’s claw had torn clean through his body and his solid frame seemed as though it had deflated. She couldn’t imagine the internal injuries he had suffered or the pain he must have felt. From the looks of the exit wound, the claw would have had to have gone straight through his spine and bottom of the rib cage and if that were the case, he was lucky he was still in one piece.

  Relatively speaking.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “Dammit. It didn’t have to be like this.”

  Foster had paid his dues, suffered more than most, but he had survived the war. It should have given him a nice comfortable retirement. Sure, he would have hated having nothing to do. But it would have been better than being ripped to pieces by the Ralgon. That they were out here at all on this stupid, bullshit milk run defied belief. The cause of all of this—the responsibility for the deaths on board that convoy, the loss of Foster, —rested not with the Ralgon. Not even with the Remali. It rested with one person on board this ship.

  She would make damned sure he knew it.

  November 5, 2832

  14:00

  Mjöllnir - Captain’s Office

  CODY TOOK another sip of his ice water, trying in vain to settle his frayed nerves. The casualties had been light in terms of raw numbers, but as he looked over the names of the dead, he winced. It was never easy losing anyone under his command, but this one stung more than any other. He turned his attention to filling out the required forms. But the tears blurred his vision and he couldn’t make out the words he had just keyed.

  He had lost friends and colleagues before, during the war. He very much doubted that anyone still alive from those years could say any different. But Foster...

  A dull ‘thump’ at his hatch drew his attention and without thinking to ask who was there, he thumbed the door lock to release. It flew open in a flash, slamming against the bulkhead with a loud clang.

  “You son of a bitch, I told you this was going to happen.”

  Cassie stormed in, her shoulders raised, her chest heaving as she struggled to control herself. Cody stood in a futile effort to remind his sister who was in charge in this room. She crossed the room, her boots pounding heavily on the deck.

  “You might want to consider your words a little more carefully,” he said, his tone measured.

  Cassandra’s face tightened and her hand rose into an accusatory point. “Shove it. Just shove it! I told you this was going to happen, and you ignored me.”

  “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.” He knew she was talking about Foster. But he needed her to say it. He needed her to hear it.

  Her finger jabbed forward again. “I told you we couldn’t trust the Remali. You ignored me, you played their game, and look where we are now! Foster is dead!” She paused there as her composure wavered. Cody held his silence. Better to let her vent her anger out here than someplace else where she might regret it later. “Foster is dead, as are seven other marines. Twelve were vented into space when the hull was breached. Eleven more are injured, two are maimed, one of Labonne’s pilots is dead, three of her fighters are seriously damaged, as are two transports. This is unacceptable! Had you listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

  “I did listen to you, Cassie,” He considered addressing her by her rank, but thought better of it. “I listened and took what I believed to be the best course of action. Your recommendations are just that! They are not mandates nor are they orders. Do you really think I’m happy about what happened? Do you think I enjoy writing condolence letters?

  “Foster...is… dead! He’s dead! He’s dead....” Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Her legs gave way and she started to sink to the floor. Co
dy darted around the desk, his hands reaching under her arms and around her waist as she continued to sink. She offered him no physical resistance as he pulled her back, supporting the brunt of her weight and helped her into one of the chairs reserved for visitors.

  “Foster is dead,” she said, between sobs. “Do you know how much he meant to me? It was him,” she sobbed. “He found me after the camp was hit. I almost killed him. He lost his arm because of me, but he found me and brought me back.”

  Cody held her in his arms, consoling her. She did not fight him.

  “He told me once that most of his family had died in the early days of the war and he had no one left to speak of,” Cody offered. “But after he found you, he was deeply moved at how you stayed close to him. He wouldn’t want you to be angry over his death. He died doing what he did best, defending his people and protecting them from danger with his life. He would want you to continue the fight and not let his loss consume you.”

  Cassie settled but only for a moment before she pulled away. “Swear to me,” she begged. “Swear to me that he will not have died in vain.”

  The whole sequence of events flashed though his head. The insinuations, the request for a favor from Rashar, her sending Valeer to guide them, the odd nature of the request as a whole, and then the ambush and the chaos. Had Cassie been right all along? Had this been a set up and were the Remali somehow in control of the Ralgon? It was one thing not to have those answers while sitting as guests in orbit of a dilapidated station. But now blood was spilling, people were dying, and Cody had committed his ship, crew and resources to aiding a people who might be trying to kill them all. Not having the answers had always felt uncomfortable. Now it had become unacceptable.

  “I swear it.”

  November 5, 2832

  18:00

  Mjöllnir - Med-deck

  NIRA HUNCHED over the sink gagging as she fought to clear her throat. How the hell had this happened? How had she gone from a stomach of steel, unable to be rattled by anything, no matter how grotesque, to someone who could barely hold her lunch down at the sight of an opened body on the autopsy table? She spat up another remnant from her stomach.

  She had to be sick, coming down with an illness which had presented no other indications of onset. But when would she have caught it? There were no other reports of chronic nausea aboard and she had not been off the ship since she had reported aboard with Cody. Hell, she hadn’t even gone onto Surahan. Nothing made sense. Sure she could be getting a cold, or worse, the flu. But none of the other symptoms were present. Aside from this damn vomiting everything was normal. That left only one possibility and she made a note to get tested.

  Her stomach had remained calm now for the past few minutes. Perhaps the worst was over. She washed out her mouth, popped a breath freshener, and took a dose of anti-nausea medication. It would have to suffice; she had work to do and it would only stack up on her until she tackled it.

  She donned her surgical gear once again and returned to Foster’s autopsy. Cody had fought with her on that, arguing that the presence of the Ralgon cruiser defending the convoy was sufficient evidence to call the creatures on the freighters Ralgon. She had scoffed at him.

  He knew better than to try that argument with her. Those kinds of assumptions and leaps of logic may work for battlefield tactics and split second decisions, but when the dust settled there was nothing better than the scientific method. Cody’s assertion that the previously unknown creatures on the convoy were actually Ralgon was little more than a hypothesis. She had spent most of the afternoon since Cassie left working through the autopsy and reviewing the analysis of the overgrowth on the convoy.

  Between the two sources, she had almost fifty samples in the mass spectrometer and now waited as it took over the investigation, sorting the elements and particles in the samples in order to generate a profile that would then be used in a comparison with existing profiles in the medical database. The four victims rescued from Artez were another lose end she needed to tie off. The three that were still alive seemed stable enough, though they still remained in comas and she took a few minutes to review their charts and adjust the treatment protocols.

  She entered the Morgue, where the body of the fourth waited for her, and she pulled the cold storage drawer open. Although she had assigned out the autopsy, the team had yet to start it. As she reviewed the initial notes, most of which she had made herself, a pair of stains on the cloth covering the victim’s body drew her attention. The chart indicated a pair of lacerations on the victim’s chest. Had something happened that caused them to re-open?

  She pulled the blanket back gingerly and almost fell backwards in surprise. Not only had the wounds re-opened but they appeared larger, longer and wider, than she had remembered them being. She donned a pair of gloves, a mask, and grabbed a probe to take a look. It did not take her long to find the problem. Around the wounds, a line of a green coagulated liquid had melted the skin away. She had seen similar signs on Foster’s body. This made no sense. The morgue’s cryo drawers should have been cold enough to preserve everything. This liquid should have been frozen by now, but by the looks of things, it was anything but. She pulled a probe from the autopsy kit and carefully touched it to the liquid. A snap and a sizzle caught her off-guard as reflex took over and she pulled the implement away. She examined the tip of the probe as the residue continued to bubble against the metal. But there was something else: the smooth tapered surface of the probe was gone, replaced by a melted jagged edge. Nira’s eyes widened.

  She threw the probe into one of the nearby incinerators and started the cycle, but dared not wait for its completion. Instead, she dashed back to her lab. The results were waiting for her when she arrived.

  November 6, 2832

  08:00

  Mjöllnir

  MELOR RUBBED her temples as she fought the headache off. She had been on her back for what felt like days, working on repairing the ship. She had brought all four of her shifts on duty and ordered them into double shifts. While her people had made progress, rebuilding the hull within the safety of the Surahan Pulsar remained the most daunting of all the work before them.

  Surahan, the station the Remali had stolen from the Verasai. The same Remali that had tried to abduct her. The same Remali that the Captain had befriended, and the same Remali which had sent them on their little mercy mission, the same mission which now forced her back into this repair process. She tossed the calibrator aside, exchanging it for a frequency scanner. The device clipped to the panel she had been working on and returned a green light, indicating the panel was calibrated and ready to install.

  Five minutes later, the job was finished and power to that section of the deck returned to full. Her technician handed her a rag and she wiped her hands down. Damn, how she hated the heavy work suit. It felt like burlap slapping against her sweat-drenched skin. It had to come off. She unzipped the jumpsuit and let the upper body of the suit fall to her waist, exposing her uniform undergarment. She wiped down, cleaning the sweat on and under her arms, around her neck, and over her chest.

  “What’s next?”

  She motioned for the duty roster from her assistant.

  “Mind if I butt in?”

  Melor wheeled around to meet the face of her Commanding Officer. The Captain looked horrible. The color had drained from his face, and the red puffiness around his eyes and nose told all. She would not call attention to it even if she had wanted to.

  She shot bolt upright, standing at attention and saluting. Protocol in this case did not necessarily demand it, but the fatigue had taken a solid grip on her and it was better safe than sorry.

  Amado waved his hand dismissively, “At ease, Lieutenant. I just came down to check on repairs”

  Melor reviewed the tablet again, waiting as the device pinged the network and updated the repair status on all outstanding tasks. Her eyes sparked open in surprise. It must have been a while since she had last refreshed the list.

  “We�
�re actually ahead of schedule, Captain.” She spared the details. She reviewed her listing again, making mental notes to check in on a few projects.

  “What about the hull?”

  Melor shrugged. “We’ve done as best we can while en route. I’m not going to be able to execute a proper repair until I can get crews out there in EVA suits with support craft.”

  “How long will you need?”

  Her hand lifted to her chin, stroking it as she lost herself in thought. “If you’ll allow me a few more ships than usual, I can field extra teams and have the hull sealed inside of ten hours. Rebuilding the decking will take much more time; probably close to ten days, but I can do that while we’re on the move.”

  Amado’s eyes narrowed as his gaze became far off, as if staring through her and through the rest of the ship.

  “I can give you ten hours once we arrive, but don’t take much longer than that.”

  “Captain?”

  Amado turned to leave, but stopped short to address her confusion. “Lieutenant, in ten hours we may no longer have our open invitation to Surahan station. General Rashar has some explaining to do.”

  November 6, 2832

  11:00

  Mjöllnir - Captain's Office

  CODY AMADO PACED his office while he waited. The communications array had taken some minor damage in the attack and while it was still functional, his officers had reported it was a little temperamental at the moment. But that was okay. He needed a minute or two to gather his thoughts and focus. He could not allow his anger get the better of him if he was going to put this to Rashar as hard as he planned to.

  “General Rashar on the line, Captain.”

  “Thank you, crewman,” he said through the communications link to OpCom. “Please route it to my office.”

  A few seconds later, the holo-projector in the corner hummed to life as it rendered a transparent image of Rashar. Good. All the better to look her in the eye. At least those weren’t buried behind a face mask.