by S. H. Jucha
Tatia caught the small smile that had briefly played across Alex’s face.
While Alex and Andrea were staring at the display, the holo-vid display reversed itself and rolled forward again, but from a slightly different angle.
Tatia took the plunge first, sending,
Sheila chimed in,
Tatia withheld her opinion, waiting for the others. She had already signaled she was leaning the Admiral’s way. When Alex had first announced his intentions, she had researched their first silver ship encounter with Julien. The fighter’s abrupt about-face, abandoning its pursuit of Sheila, had always needled her.
<“Prison ship” might be a better term,> said Tatia.
* * *
New Terra’s ice fields lay behind the flotilla, and they entered FTL early the following morning. Alex spent the day game-planning tactics to capture a silver ship. Questions often arose. What next? What next after we capture a ship? What next if we free the inhabitants? What about the prison ship? The frustration came from the fact that no one, including Alex, had answers to the questions.
After evening meal, Alex retired to his cabin. He stood in the refresher for a long time, enjoying the pulsing massage of the liquid on his shoulders and neck. No matter which plan was attempted, the tactics would be dangerous and lives would be lost, but Alex couldn’t bring himself to participate in the elimination of a captive species.
Alex reluctantly shut down the refresher. As he exited, he expected to be handed his robe, but Renée walked to the bed.
“Come. I have learned a technique I wish to try,” Renée said. When Alex lay on his back on the bed, she added, “Not this evening, my love. I require you roll on to your stomach.”
Alex followed her request. While their lovemaking had become quite inventive, he was sure this position would be quite impossible. He heard the soft whisper of Renée’s wrap as it slid off and felt her straddle his lower back. Then her hands, covered in a soothing gel, began massaging his neck. Her fingers were strong despite their slenderness. She worked the gel into his neck and his shoulders for a half-hour.
Despite the coolness of the room, Renée felt the sweat running down her lower back and between her thighs as she rocked against Alex’s lower back. Her hands were tiring as she worked to relieve Alex’s stress, but the sensation of riding her lover’s heavily muscled back was intense, erotic. Alex might have been very surprised to know that, at least for Renée, sex was possible in this position.
Alex lay still when Renée stopped and eased off him. He heard her feet pad into the refresher. A few moments later, she returned with a moistened towel to wipe the gel and sweat from his back. Whatever was in the gel had eased his tightened muscles and soothed his nerves. The intimate massage had been a pure bonus. He felt Renée cuddle along his side, an arm and a leg over him.
“Better?” Renée asked, kissing Alex’s shoulder.
“Much better,” he said, his face buried in the bed’s coverlet.
“Still can’t find a way to capture a silver ship and guarantee that none of your people get hurt?” Renée asked.
Sometimes Alex had to remind himself that he was dealing with a woman who had more experience and maturity than himself. “Not yet.”
“I would suggest that you won’t be successful in this, my love. You will do your best to limit the loss of life, but to do what you wish means great risk.”
“Do you think I’m wrong to try to help those in the silver ships?” Alex asked.
Renée had begun to nuzzle Alex’s neck, so her answer came as a breath in his ear, “This is not a question of right or wrong, Alex. We will do what you ask.”
“What are the people thinking?” Alex asked. Renée’s intimate connections with the Rêveur’s Méridiens and their connections to their family members aboard the Freedom gave her insight into the thinking of the Librans.
“The majority have reached consensus, but they wait to hear the others. Some Librans are angry, and against all our teachings, they wish for revenge.”
“I would imagine that many are related to the elders left behind,” Alex said.
“You would imagine correctly, my wise one.”
Alex rolled onto his side and scooped Renée against him.
“Are there other minority opinions?” Alex asked.
“A few wish to flee, find a new home, and forget the fighting, but they are the fewest in number,” Renée replied.
“Who speaks for the majority?” Alex had learned that one individual monitored the opinion totals until consensus was reached on any given discussion. The debated question was always precisely phrased to prevent the discussion from unraveling.
“Jason, Fiona’s grandson, holds the opinion, but he is not driving the consensus building.”
“An
d that would be…?” Alex inquired.
“Two of the Admiral’s greatest admirers,” Renée replied.
Alex stared at her in bewilderment as he tried to puzzle out whom she meant. It began an intimate connection of implants, which Renée loved. In this case, it was a game they played. He would send his guesses and attempt to read her reactions. The trick was for her not to react to the correct guess. But as she had recently discovered during their intimacy, Alex’s ability to read her was continuing to grow. On the other hand, she didn’t care. She was all his—heart and mind.
Alex ran out of guesses after naming most of the elders who had come to his attention. When he admitted defeat, she sent him the answer.
“Amelia and Eloise,” Alex blurted, sitting upright.
Renée giggled. It was always fun to stump her partner. It happened so rarely. “Our little ones have made the argument thus …” Renée said and played a recording she had stored.
Alex heard Amelia say,
“Wow,” Alex mumbled, “a future leader of our people.”
“Truly,” Renée agreed and straddled Alex’s lap. It was her signal that important discussions were over, and she wished another form of implant connection.
-16-
Julien exited the flotilla well outside Arnos’s heliosphere. He had used the telemetry from the FTL station left hidden in the shadow of a moonlet circling the system’s outermost planet. The station had a view of the planet and the “prison ship” orbiting Libre, even though the planet remained hidden behind Arnos from the flotilla’s viewpoint.
Per Alex’s instructions, Cordelia halted the Freedom at a fixed position on the ecliptic well outside of the system’s gravity well. The Rêveur and the Money Maker kept pace together as they continued on toward the orbit of the system’s outer planet.
“Julien,” Andrea asked, “do we have a target?” She and Alex were on the Rêveur’s bridge, and Tatia had transferred to the Money Maker to command the flight missions. Sheila would take lead on the primary flight group of four Daggers.
“Negative, Captain,” Julien replied. “The outer patrols have not turned toward us as yet. We have had the advantage of the FTL station’s telemetry while the silver ships have had to wait for the speed of light’s lag time to locate us.
“You still don’t think there’s much chance of us capturing the first contact, Admiral?” Andrea asked.
“A slight chance, Captain, but I don’t think so,” Alex replied.
Two hours later, Julien reported what everyone had been expecting. “Contact, Captain. A single ship has turned our way. Assuming 0.91c, it will arrive at the outer perimeter in 16.45 hours.”
“Next nearest contacts, Julien,” Alex requested.
Julien activated the holo-vid, which he mirrored to the Freedom’s and Money Maker’s bridges. On the Freedom, Tomas and Captain Cordova were able to stay in the loop as events unfolded. Alex’s standing order for the Freedom was that in the event the prison ship made its way toward the city-ship, they were to immediately enter FTL and return to New Terra—no questions asked.
“We have five system patrols at different distances from us, Admiral,” Julien replied.
Alex studied the holo-vid. The view updated with red lines from the single patrol and the nearest five patrols converging on the Rêveur with distance markers. Alex slid the position of the Rêveur first clockwise as seen from on top of the ecliptic, then counterclockwise, the distance markers changing to match the Rêveur’s new position. Within moments, Alex chose a final position.
“I concur, Admiral,” Julien said.
Everyone on the two ships broke for a late evening meal and some much needed sleep. Later in the evening, Renée searched for Alex and found him on the bridge. Where else would I find my great worrier before our next battle? Renée thought ruefully. It took her nearly a half-hour to entice Alex from the bridge back to their cabin, where she proceeded in her own way to relieve his anxiety. In the early hours of the morning, she was still awake, worrying what the day would bring while Alex’s chest rose in a slow, deep rhythm. She tucked her ear against the side of his chest and let his heartbeat, a sound she had cherished from the first time she had lain with him, lull her to sleep.
* * *
The three flight crews of the Money Maker had morning meal early. By 5.25 hours, they had buttoned the pilots up in their Daggers and were awaiting launch orders. Captain Manet and crew had boarded the Outward Bound and were waiting as well. The initial silver ship was less than two hours out.
Captain Manet launched his ship and took up a position inward of the Rêveur. His ship would again provide a blocking force for the Rêveur. Their first deployment at Bellamonde had nearly frightened Edouard to death. Nevertheless, he had performed his duty. But the death of the Libran elders had wiped away his fear and hardened his heart. Although his deep desire was to destroy every silver ship, he remembered the first time he thought the New Terran Captain completely wrong … and the next time. Edouard had learned a valuable lesson that he was ill-suited to formulate strategy, but he could follow orders.
Sheila launched three flights of four Daggers each. One flight, led by Ellie Thompson, dove below the ecliptic, and another flight, led by Darius Gaumata, shifted counterclockwise around the ecliptic, remaining on the fringe of the system’s gravity wave falloff. This second flight was careful to stay in the green-blue bands, a feat made capable by a color overlay in the pilots’ helmets. Sheila took the third flight inward into the orange bands. Her flight would be the bait. After launching the fighters, the Money Maker returned to the system’s blue-purple bands.
Sheila waited with her wing as the first silver ship approached. Julien had programmed their controllers. The thought crossed Sheila’s mind that, somewhere along the line, Julien had gone from an alien computer that they were forced to work with to becoming their friend whom they trusted and depended on. At the conclusion of a countdown warning, her fighter wing reversed its course, and they ran for the heliosphere, hoping to draw the silver ship after them. Darius’s flight, circling the ecliptic, turned back. His flight was designated to drive the silver ship past the point of no return. Ellie’s flight headed back up from below the ecliptic. Their job was to ambush the silver ship if it didn’t cooperate.
Unfortunately for the inhabitants of the alien fighter, they refused to follow the Admiral’s plan. As the silver ship approached the yellow-green gravitational fields, it curved its flight path away from both groups of Daggers, which were traveling on the ecliptic. When it did, it signaled its death. Ellie’s flight coming from below the ecliptic launched four missiles. Two of the powerful Libran-X warheads intercepted the enemy fighter and destroyed it.
All Dagger flights returned to the Money Maker and prepped for the next phase of the plan. The Outward Bound came home, and the officers and crew waited more than a day for the next fighters to come their way.
* * *
Evening meal was taken early this time. All five silver ships had turned their way. Three would arrive within a half-hour of one another. It was Alex’s expectation that they would form a loose formation. The fourth fighter would be three hours behind, and the fifth fighter would be nearly a half-day behind.
The number of enemy fighters was stretching Sheila’s resources thin. She wanted a twelve-to-one superiority over the silver ships, and four enemy ships re
quired forty-eight Daggers, which she had. What she didn’t have were forty-eight experienced pilots. All her pilots had completed training, but half of them would be in the same circumstances she was a year ago. They would be engaging a silver ship for the first time. Their next encounter would require intricate wing maneuvers. It wouldn’t be four ships on one; it would be forty-eight ships on four, and Sheila had never trained her pilots in tactics this complex.
Alex simplified the plan for her—virtually the same plan as before but with more numbers. Sheila led sixteen Daggers inward, while Ellie and Darius, each leading sixteen Daggers, repeated their earlier actions. Although the fourth silver ship might be late to the action, there wouldn’t be time to reset the trap, so Sheila had gone for overkill, and Andrea and Tatia had agreed with her.
True to Alex’s prediction, the first three ships varied their velocities to arrive in a loose formation. Then the enemy went one step further and waited for the fourth ship to join them. Nearly everyone observing the maneuver updated their thoughts on what or who inhabited the silver ships.
When the enemy fighters did come for Sheila’s squadron, her controllers split the formation into four flights of four Daggers. Two flights split off, staying on the ecliptic, one flight dove below, and Sheila’s Daggers turned and ran for the gravity limit of the silver ships, but not at maximum acceleration. They allowed the enemy to close on them, requiring their controllers to initiate evasion tactics. As her four fighters jinked and danced toward the blue gravitational bands, Sheila forced herself to temper her anger. Fighting the silver ships, she understood; playing bait for the deadly enemy seemed ludicrous. Her anger flared when she saw Dagger-3’s icon wink off her helmet’s telemetry.
Three of the silver ships veered off from their attack right into Darius’s squadron. In the moments it took the fighters to cross paths, the three silver ships disappeared in blooms of fire and debris, and so did four of Darius’s sixteen Daggers.