by Gun Brooke
The island was surrounded by an armada of boats and ships, some of them tilting precariously. Circling the island and some of the neighboring ones, she saw panicked people actually trying to swim to the boats. Some spotted her and waved fervently with clothes. Shifting her bird into a hover state closer to the ground, Spinner blinked at the sight of mothers holding up their small children, their mouths open in soundless cries. She punched her communicator sensor hard. “Spinner to Caydoc,” she barked, not wanting the entire bridge to overhear. “Sir, I’m at hover height above the archipelago. They’re going to drown if we don’t do anything. Women, small children. They’re desperate!”
“Commander, return to Espies Major.” Caydoc’s voice was low, noncommittal.
“Sir, don’t you understand? We can’t let these people just die. If we help them, they have a chance once the planet settles down.”
“I hear you. Your order stands. Return to—”
“Admiral, please,” Spinner said, raising her voice. She knew she was out of line and that the command structure dictated she should obey orders, especially the repeated ones. This was what she’d been taught all her military life, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the frantic Gemosians below. “We have to do something. I can’t leave them like this.”
Spinner heard steps as if the admiral was walking rapidly. “Spinner, listen to me. Do not argue. Return to Espies Major instantly, and I promise you I will do everything in my power to rescue as many as I can.”
“I don’t see why I should return. I can set down, place markers for the freighter. We can deploy some of the rescue rafts—”
“Return to the E.M., Commander,” Caydoc said, her voice pure steel. “Do not make me repeat myself. Your flight status might depend upon it.”
Furious and frustrated, Spinner muttered, “Yes, sir. Spinner out.” How could Caydoc be so callous? Sure, she’d promised to try to save people—people who might just die because it’d take too fucking long. She was here now, ready to start the rescue operation, but, no, Caydoc was so by the book, she wouldn’t see the best course of action.
Spinner shifted the levers and began to ascend. She would not disobey such an order. A grounded CAG…well, there was no such thing. Being demoted and stripped of her rank only a month into the mission was out of the question. Glancing down at the islands, she vowed to come back with help as soon as possible.
As her craft rose yet another hundred meters, what had so far been only light tremors now became violent shaking. Not intimidated by a little turbulence, Spinner ran a quick check of the instruments as she fought the controls. Her bird acted as if someone was shaking it and trying to push it upside down.
“Computer! Check propulsion system.”
“Checking,” the slightly metallic female voice of the computer responded. “Propulsion drive compromised by foreign agent. Thirty-two secs to shutdown.”
“What the hell?” Glancing at her screens, as well as out the windscreen, Spinner saw that her bird was closer to the ground than she’d been during her flyby. “Caydoc’s going to have my ass for this.” Spinner engaged the larger, manual flight stick. No matter how much this would anger her superior officer, she was going down.
*
“Spinner’s in trouble, sir.” Lt. Schpay sounded urgent.
“Now what?” Having just reentered the bridge, Dael walked over to Schpay’s station. “Don’t tell me, she’s going to start her own rescue mission.”
“Don’t think so, sir. She started her ascent to return when her propulsion system went dead.”
“Dead?” Concerned now, Dael rounded the console and studied the readings. Yanking her communicator to her lips, she spoke fast. “Caydoc to Spinner, do you read?”
“…burning through…toward…” The broken words didn’t make much sense. Something seemed to be burning, and now Spinner’s audio channel didn’t even transmit any static.
“Caydoc to engineering.”
“Chief Dioga here,” a gruff male voice answered.
“We have a vessel down on the planet. An assault craft. Something went wrong with it at the last minute. Lt. Schpay will send you the final readings we have. I want to know if it’s safe to send in freighters or if this will happen to any of our vessels going beneath the atmosphere.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
“Thank you.” Hurrying, Caydoc strode to the center of the bridge. “Listen up. Ensign Umbahr, communicate our information to our sister ships as soon as you learn something new. We can’t have them sending down vessels before we know they won’t sustain the same damage. Lt. Schpay, I want a tactical report every twenty minutes. We still don’t know what made their moon explode, and I will not have such potential weaponry sprung on us. Commander Weniell, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room.” She nodded briskly and strode off the bridge. Inside her ready room, she inhaled and exhaled twice before she sat down at her desk. She picked up the in-ship civilian communicator and paged her nania.
“Please tell me you want me to come help out on the bridge.” Helden’s dry voice made Dael smile despite the dire circumstances.
“The thought had occurred to me, Fleet Admiral. Actually, I don’t want you to move from the secure area, but I need your expertise.”
“Things are looking up,” Helden said, seriousness permeating her chuckle. “I knew you didn’t bring me for mere decorative purposes. What’s up? I mean, apart from the fact that this moon in pieces.”
Trust her nania to skip to the nucleus of the matter. “We have a craft down and out of communication on Gemosis. Northern hemisphere, somewhere in an archipelago.”
“Spinner?” Helden sounded cautious.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Dael closed her eyes briefly. “How did you guess?”
“Since this woman wears her heart out in the open and started off this mission by risking her life to save her wingman, it seemed logical.” Helden cleared her voice. “She’s your best pilot, all categories. If anyone can set down a bird in one piece, it’s her.”
“Yes, of course. Her propulsion system is history, and I suspect it’s because of the ash.”
“Our vessels are protected against such things.” Helden spoke slowly. “Though the Gemosian magma might have a completely alien makeup. Hmm.” Dael could hear how Helden rapped the nails of her good fingers against something. “Let me talk to your engineer. I have a few thoughts I would like to discuss with him. Is he opposed to an old woman meddling?”
“Not if it’s you. You’re a legend, remember? And besides, he’ll damn well talk with anyone I tell him to.”
“That’s my girl. Have him call me.”
After relaying the message to Chief Dioga, Dael pulled up the latest data regarding Spinner’s position and the information she’d provided. Why was it as soon as something out of the ordinary happened, Spinner seemed to be at the forefront? It had started with the wingman rescue and gone from there to minor things like fighting with a few of her peers over a game of spin jack. And now this.
As the CAG, Spinner was brilliant and her pilots adored her. If they lost her this early in the mission, it might directly affect the squadron’s performance and morale. Completely disregarding the faint pang inside at the thought of Spinner having a fatal crash—after all, Dael cared about all her subordinates—she tapped the computer screen as she reached a slightly unorthodox decision. Once Dioga and Helden had had their say, she fully intended to head the rescue mission herself—both regarding the Gemosians and Spinner.
Chapter Eight
Spinner was beyond sore. Ready to have a piece of whoever was to blame for her current condition, she jerked fully awake. She was shocked at first that she couldn’t see out of her left eye. She raised a trembling hand and realized her visor was broken and blood ran down along her face. Lots of it.
As she carefully removed her helmet, her memory flooded back, accompanied by a banging that wouldn’t let up. Was it just in her head, from the injury, or was so
meone actually banging on her door? Door? She turned her head and sighed in frustration. She was in her assault craft. Someone was hammering against the hull, or perhaps the hatch.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she called out, immediately regretting it as her own words pierced her head and made it pound even worse. “Holy Creator, I’m so dead. Caydoc’s going to eviscerate me. Twice.”
Her bird seemed strangely undamaged from the inside. The hatch sensor wasn’t working, so the power had to be out still. She had a memory of fire in the propulsion system. It must have spread to the electrical circuits. After having the sense to arm herself with a sidearm from the arms locker, Spinner grabbed the manual lever and pulled to open the hatch. Whimpering at how this movement sent what felt like a jagged-edged plate through her skull, she managed to get it open enough for whoever was outside to assist.
With her hand on the handle of her gun, Spinner sank to her knees. Shit, her head hurt.
“It’s a woman,” a male voice said. The translation feature on her communicator fastened above her right collarbone still worked, for which Spinner was grateful. They might just have assumed she was the enemy otherwise. They still might, though.
“I’m Commander Aniwyn Seclan of the Oconodian Fleet. Our convoy is just passing your system while on the Exodus mission. We’re trying to help.” She tried to get up, but only when the man assisted her by holding on to her arm did she manage it.
“I’m Calagan Do Voy.” He was younger than Spinner first thought, looking frazzled but in good health. “A convoy from Oconodos is in orbit?” He looked hopeful. “Can they get us out of here? We have five thousand men, women, and children stranded on the island. Several of our ships—”
“Are not seaworthy, I know. I saw from the air. Where did I touch down?”
“Touch down? More like crashed.” Calagan guided Spinner outside where a vast crowd was surrounding her craft. “As you can tell, you lucked out. A few more meters and you’d be at the bottom of the ocean.”
Spinner stared at the scene before her. She’d managed to crash right on the precipice of one of the larger islands, and beneath them, the ocean still roared as it tried to find its new pattern due to the loss of the smallest moon.
She tapped her communicator. “Spinner to Espies Major. Do you read?” She heard only static, interrupted by random, stuttered words. “Spinner to Caydoc, come in.” Frustrated, Spinner tried to take in the situation. “Listen, Mr. Do Voy—”
“Calagan, please.” He smiled faintly. “Let’s get you sorted.” He motioned to her bleeding scalp. “Then we can figure out what to do next and how to call your people.”
“All right.” It was a good plan. She wouldn’t be much use like this. “I need to get my EM-kit from the craft.”
“EM-kit? Oh, emergency kit. I see.” Calagan turned but was interrupted.
“Let me get it.” A woman next to Calagan spoke quickly. “Just tell me where it is.”
“Beneath the pilot seat. A green box with a white triangle on the lid.” Grateful not to have to crawl back into the cramped space of her beloved bird, Spinner drew a deep breath to try to alleviate the nausea. She was probably concussed, and without her helmet she’d no doubt be dead.
The woman returned with the box. “I’m Darmiya, Calagan’s sister. Why don’t you sit over there?” She pointed at some old, weathered logs, and the crowd shifted to give them space as Darmiya tended to Spinner’s wound. “You need stitches, but I’ve taped the gap along your hairline as securely as I can.” Darmiya looked apologetically at her. “You might have a scar.”
“I honestly could care less. Just one more for the collection.” She grinned despite the pain. “And stitches? We don’t sew our wounded, not anymore. You used the tape correctly. It’s fine.”
Darmiya blushed faintly and put a dressing on the strips of tape. “Just a shame to scar such a handsome face.”
“Quit that flirting,” Calagan said, and pushed at his sister, albeit gently. “You’re hopeless.”
“I would call it hopeful. This woman can be our salvation, don’t you see?” Darmiya frowned at him, clearly annoyed. “I’m not flirting, just being friendly. When her people come looking for her and her craft, they’ll help us in the process.”
“How do you know this, Darmiya?” another woman in the crowd asked. “How do you know that the Oconodians won’t just abandon us like they do the changed ones on their own homeworld? That’s what her mission is about. Finding a new place to settle down and thus leave every problem behind. Does that sound like caring people to you?” She spat the words and glared at Spinner with obvious hostility.
“She’s wrong,” Spinner said quietly. Every voice pierced her head and made her want to throw up. “Now, please give me one of those injections marked with a red label that says Stabilizer IV.”
Darmiya looked through the EM-kit. “This it?” She held up an auto-syringe.
“Yes, I’ll do it myself.” She’d be damned if she allowed anyone from another world to actually inject her. Spinner grabbed the syringe with unsteady fingers and pressed it against the pulse point on her neck. She jerked as the substance hissed, passing the skin barrier and entering her bloodstream.
Waiting impatiently for the effect, she almost whimpered in relief when the headache began to subside. This was a temporary measure and she could have only one more dose during the next twenty-four hours, but it was necessary. She stood and stretched her back before turning to Darmiya and Calagan. “I’m going to get a few things from my craft, and then we have to move toward those anchored ships. Are they far from here?”
“Not very. We have no way of reaching them, though.” Calagan looked troubled as Spinner pressed herself through the half-open hatch.
“That’s not true.” Darmiya spoke determinedly. “Some of the passengers came to the island in small rescue rafts. We could use them if we need to reach them.”
“They’ll overturn and we’ll all drown.” Calagan sounded angry now. “It’s an insane attempt.”
Spinner was busy grabbing her backpack, which was stored in the back, behind her seat. It contained a survival kit with emergency rations and other things a pilot might need when tossed into an unexpected situation planetside. She took more ammunition from the weapons locker and then secured it. No need for the locals to get their hands on Oconodian guns. Outside, she tucked the rest of the EM-kit in her bag and slung it over her back. As she tugged on the straps, she calmly gazed at the surrounding crowd. Their expressions ran from hopeful and benevolent to disdainful and suspicious. Wonderful.
“We need to get to any means of transmission with an amplifier. If I can signal the Espies Major or any of her sister ships in the convoy, we have at least a chance of rescuing people.” She didn’t imply that they could save everyone, as they obviously realized it might be an impossible undertaking.
“Let’s go, then.” Calagan motioned for the closest people to move, and they made their way through what looked like an ocean of people. Young, old, and the very young and extremely old. How did the very old manage to survive the initial disaster? Impressed with their tenacity, Spinner thought of Caydoc’s nania. Helden possessed such strength. It seemed the older woman had taken a personal interest in Spinner and the fascination was mutual. Sometimes it could feel quite surreal, especially when Helden referred to her granddaughter, the admiral, as angelic and cute when she was a little girl.
Looking up at the empty sky, Spinner wondered what mayhem she’d caused aboard the Espies Major this time. The rule was to never leave anyone behind if it was at all doable, but this time it was more than that. Darmiya was right. They would come looking for her craft, then pick up on her homing signal, and that’s when they’d find all the refugees. Oh, yeah. Caydoc would supply Spinner with her own personal airlock to use on a continuous basis.
*
“Chief Dioga to Bridge.”
“Caydoc here. Report.”
“Thanks to your esteemed grandmother, sir, we
now have a working theory. The magma and ashes on Gemosis are not like ours back home.” He cleared his throat, perhaps for using the word home about Oconodos. “On Gemosis, the magma contains an erodent, a substance that gnaws through our metal alloys.”
“Hell. What’s your solution? How can we use the rescue freighters?” Caydoc shoved her hands through her hair.
“The fleet admiral thought of a way. It’s experimental, and we need to send down a test probe—”
“Dioga. Get to the point. We don’t have much time.”
“Understood, sir. The fleet admiral suggested that we spray a silicon-based substance into the circuit ducts and all over the exposed propulsion system. She said it would be like applying lip salve.” He sounded amused, and Dael couldn’t blame him. Trust her nania to make such a comparison.
“Then outfit a probe instantly and send it to the planet, preferably a densely ash-filled part.”
“Aye, sir.”
Thank you, Nania. Dael gazed around the bridge. “You all heard. Prepare to find a location to send it to. Commander Weniell, you have the bridge. I’m planning to join the first rescue team once we have the go-ahead.”
“Sir?” Weniell stood, a scowl marring his forehead. “As your XO, I can’t permit—”
“It’s not your place to permit me to do anything.” Ice in her voice and no doubt icicles shooting from her eyes, Dael merely brushed him aside.
“Perhaps, but it’s my duty as your first officer to express my opinion and make you think twice before doing anything rash.” His face turned redder; he was clearly angry now.
“I never do anything rash, Weniell. My actions are always thought out, more than once. I need to assess the situation and head up this rescue operation. I’m sure our government and the people who designed these ships didn’t quite anticipate us running into this mess so close to home, but I’ll be damned if I’ll allow neighbors of Oconodos to suffer and perish if I can do something—anything—about it.”