The comm filled with chatter from below decks. He wondered how many had taken up his offer to leave. The ship shook.
"Collier has detached. Gruppe ready, Field Commander."
He didn't think his sub-ensign slipped that time with his rank.
"Forward. Flank battle speed." There was only a small chance of destroying the the fireship. Likely they would be caught in its blast. "Plot a fireship intercept allowing for a full contact pass."
Six broken frigates made their way to the front of the line and then passed it. Following behind, far behind, was the command cruiser, still docked with a collier.
Suddenly, the hatch to the bridge opened, and a man burst through. He had a grister in his hand. As he raised it back toward the corridor, an incapacitator beam struck him. The bridge was filled with low frequency feedback. He winced, dropped the grister, and grabbed both sides of his head before crumpling to the deck.
A slight man, dressed in a dark Perigeum Starmada uniform devoid of any rank insignia, entered. He led a large crewman.
Pheron was surprised for the first time in many months. "Aetaire?"
Former Administrative Captain Aetaire Mingus was his adjutant at Adams Rush, afterward transferred to Logistics.
"Field Commander. Good to see you, sir." Aetaire spoke with less of the patrician, uppercrust accent Pheron remembered. His months since Adams Rush must have been sobering as well. "I've come to put myself in your service." He stepped forward and handed Pheron the incapacitator. "And accept your judgment."
"Judgment? For what?"
A VAD appeared before Aetaire. "Sir, you have ninety seconds to determine whether to go along with a plan for which there is no turning back."
"What have you done?"
"I've corralled those loyal to you from Adams Rush. Those fed up with the Perigeum's mistreatment since the Egress Incident. Your sound tactics and even demeanor have won you many allies in the ranks. You can go far, sir, but not here." He looked at the VAD. "Fifty seconds, sir."
"Aetaire... I appreciate what you're saying, but I have no plan to get out."
"I've taken care of that, sir, if you'll let me."
"Your orders, Field Commander," the sub-ensign asked.
He had half a minute to decide how to die... or perhaps, how to live. The spark, extinguished at Adams Rush, reignited. It surprised him. Normally, his decisions were quite intellectual. This time he decided to go with his gut.
"Initiate your plan, adjutant."
Immediately, Aetaire touched a VAD control. It glowed brightly, with lines streaking off in every direction. "Initiate Operation Exodus!"
A support wing of Perigeum colliers and the tattered remnants of an obsolete frigate squadron executed a coordinated scheme. Surrounded by the chaos of battle, the maneuvers were unlikely to be noticed, at least until it was too late.
Most of the ships involved began launching shuttles, though this was more telling in retrospect. Some darted through space, picking up boats from destroyed frigates. Some headed for the rear following strangely slow courses.
Though subtle at first, it became increasingly obvious that three colliers and the frigate squadron were disengaging.
"Fight below decks," Pheron's sub-ensign said.
"There will be a few on every ship that don't want to go along," Aetaire said. "They are subdued and sent to the rear in locked-down shuttles."
"It's over, sir," the sub-ensign said. "Shuttle bay being prepped."
Aetaire indicated one of the six remaining battle-ready frigates. "I knew the officers of this ship were not sympathetic to our cause. But word has reached all of your men aboard it." The ship in question launched two shuttles. "Ah, here they come."
"That captain will not suffer such behavior lightly," Pheron said. "In battle, that could be labeled dereliction. It's within his prerogative to shoot them out of space."
The frigate in question went dark suddenly and began a slow tumble.
"Apparently, some defective replacement modules for their computer systems were transferred when one of my colliers docked," Aetaire said.
His former adjutant's humor, when it made its rare appearances, was very dry.
Pheron analyzed the VADs. "Five frigates, and one of your colliers is linking with Breixo's damaged ship."
"Six frigates and three colliers will be at your command, Field Commander." Aetaire said.
Some part of him wasn't willing to accept good news. Perhaps it was the months under the thumb of Commander Moron. "Decard will not allow it. I was to be his sacrifice to the political gods."
"Comm from Wing Commander Decard, sir," the sub-ensign said.
"He's predictable."
A box on Aetaire's coded VAD displayed a short incoming message. "We're away." Pheron noticed three shuttles racing away from the collier docked with his former command cruiser.
"Right about now, Decard may realize that he's been cut off from fleetnet," Aetaire said. "The only ship he's capable of communicating with is this one."
Decard's snide face appeared in an oversized comm VAD. "You had to know this was coming, Xammetrix. Nice final stunt, but it's time for you to say goodbye." He looked away. "Prepare to fire." The commander's face didn't go away, rather it grew redder and angrier in reaction to news that couldn't be heard.
Abruptly, both command cruiser and linked collier blasted forward at flank speed, heading for the oncoming fireship.
The normally emotionless Aetaire looked almost smug. "I believe the command cruiser's maneuvering systems have been corrupted by the malfunctioning collier."
"This plan is far too imaginative for you, Aetaire," Pheron said.
"Yes, Field Commander. I pulled the rough outline from your secured tactical files."
Pheron shook his head and cracked the first hint of a smile in a long time. He opened a comm. "Commander Decard, I hereby and immediately withdraw from your command."
Decard was looking more wild-eyed by the second. "You'll get the firing squad for this!" He turned and shouted ineffectual orders.
The command cruiser raced forward on a course meant for Pheron and his poor frigates.
"That fireship's so decrepit it couldn't reach hilltop without a tow," Flag Admiral Buisart said.
"It's not trying to reach hilltop, Admiral, it's trying to reach us," Janus said, his patience wearing thin. "Sybaris, query historical records for maximum effective fireship range."
"Excluding the Castellum Debacle?" the android asked.
"Yes, who the hell knows what that was anyway."
A sphere appeared on the displays. "This is the maximum confirmed range. There are unconfirmed reports of shaped charges going out at least half again that distance during the war."
Janus narrowed his eyes. "Double that range. Buisart, can you finish the fireship before it reaches that distance?"
"Of course. AI analysis estimates within three minutes it will enter surefire range, unable to effectively dodge. It'll need five minutes, if it even survives that long, to breach the border you've indicated."
Janus paced before his command chair. He queried the fleet AI. Four minutes before the ship cannon could fire upon that mystic yard segment.
"The Vallum Corps is rallying forward behind the fire ship," Sybaris said.
"They're putting a lot of stock in a hopeless maneuver," Buisart observed. "It'll make it easier for us to clean them up before turning to deal with those incoming heavies."
He hoped the heavy squadron would see the futility of attacking once the rest of the Vallum Corps was decimated. He would hate to see that Wilkrest woman killed before he could "acquire" her. Maybe he would send out a pair of Hektors. Poor lackwits. They were practically slags. But they were good with that kind of thing.
A minor security alert pinged on the command VAD. Janus touched it for details. Wing Commander Decard was blasting forward in front of the line to intercept the fireship sooner.
"Isn't that the commander to whom you gave 'leeway,' Flag Adm
iral?"
"Uh, yes. But I don't recall this as part of the arrangement."
"I call it initiative. That cruiser has enough firepower to finish the job as it closes the range."
"The Vallum Corps is concentrating firepower in a defensive cone around the fireship," Sybaris said.
The Perigeum fire plan updated. Buisart planned to focus the next couple of beats of battle on the preoccupied Vallum Corps.
Janus clenched his fist. Why was he risking his life under the judgment of this dolt? "Sybaris, apparently the flag admiral doesn't understand the risks of mystic technology, or my priorities. Please render him unconscious and see that he's removed from the bridge."
Buisart spent less than a second in disbelief, for Sybaris closed on him at inhuman speed. He stood up indignantly.
"This is an outrage! I will not—"
With one arm Sybaris lifted him off the deck. Her other arm smashed his chest, breaking ribs and causing a gout of blood to spurt from his mouth. With a blur, her fist lashed out again and broke his jaw with a resounding crack. She hurled the limp admiral a significant distance toward the lifts at the rear of the bridge, where he was picked up by security.
"Get his adjutant in the chair. I'm sure he'll do a better job," Janus said. "Now focus the fleet on that fireship, and overwhelm the Vallum Corps's protective barrage."
Jordahk closed his eyes against the brightness, but it made no difference. The fusion sun at the center of his world burned brighter than ever. Surrounding it were all those dangerous eggs. Somehow he understood the shape they formed. Humanoid. That didn't make sense.
Around each of those eggs was a rotating device. They were familiar. Grav something... He knew enough to stay away from them, but he no longer understood why. Nor did he comprehend the meaning of words he heard distantly.
"Getting lost, Quext?" Wixom asked.
The voices were familiar. They called to him but were too far away to engage. He listened from the edge of perception, almost as if they were a foreign language. The bulk of his energy was spent doing what he knew must be done. He moved endlessly, lap after lap, through the maze of light, shoring it up at every weakened intersection. How long had he been doing that? Why was he doing that? He knew only that it was important, and that he couldn't stop.
"Look at him!" Khai said. "We have to disengage him from the fireship. It is killing him."
"Aurora's draining as much heat as she can," Max said, "and I'm pulling every trick I know with micros, but he's not responding to me anymore. Something's going to bust soon." That voice was familiar, like an old friend. It was an old friend. But the meaning was hard to comprehend. He was too busy doing his laps to contemplate it. Maybe when he was done.
"The fireship is saturated with plasma," Wixom said. "If you disengage him now, it will detonate prematurely. Though I will likely survive, you all will most assuredly die."
"Why are you here?" a woman asked.
A new voice. He comprehended it, for it was in the maze with him. His overheated consciousness allowed no further thought on the matter. Why was it so hot? What did she mean?
"I'm here to do these laps," he said. "It's important."
"They are focusing fire on us," Khai said.
"Staying with our frigate is limiting my maneuvering," Aurora said, "even linked to the fireship."
"It's taken the hits for us," Max said. "But another focused beat by the P-Stars and it'll be finished."
Jordahk sensed, outside his maze, a wall of dots. Each a point of energy. It was getting closer. Suddenly, space distorted, impinging upon his pristine maze. His world shook with violence and energy, and prickles raced down his left arm.
"Oh no, the port side," Aurora said. "Gasket? Gasket?"
"I have red lights throughout the nacelle," Khai said.
"Whoa, there goes the frigate," Max said. "Time for the extreme maneuver packages. A couple hurting cloud cruiser drones won't last long blocking what we can't dodge."
Noises of depressurization and clanking sounded when a friendly, metallic voice was heard. "I'm still here," Gasket said. "I won't ask what you're doing up there. We lost some maintenance drones with that last hit. Sorry, old girl. Port thruster assembly's taken a real beating. We're venting plasma. I'll do what I can, but we're going to need a staryard."
"If we're successful, there might still be one," Max said.
"I thought this creation long rendered inoperable," the woman's voice said. "Oh, I see. Touched by the Son of the Khromas. Then who are you?"
"I am..." He knew who he was. The name just slipped his mind. "I am me."
"So the Son of the Khromas was successful after all. Young Quext, I cannot help you break free. You must remember why you're there."
"Who is he talking to?" Khai asked.
"I don't know," Max said. "His brain activity clearly indicates he believes he's talking to someone." The ship shook again. The skeletal VAD schematic of Aurora, centered around Jordahk, became increasingly red, as if poison was flowing through her veins. "There goes one drone. We're about to be on our own."
"Approaching surefire range in this configuration," Aurora said. "We have to separate from the fireship to increase maneuverability."
"That will make it even harder for the Vallum Corps to cover us," Khai said.
"If we don't, there'll be nothing left for them to cover," Max said.
A rumble passed from one side of the ship to the other, followed by the unpleasant sound of metal distorting.
"Choose quickly, please," Gasket said. "We're at our limit down here unless someone goes all Sojourner on us."
"What will happen to Jordahk if we release the fireship?" Khai asked.
A deafening silence filled the bridge.
"Detach," Wixom said. "Jordahk will hold onto it now until the strain of reaching out kills him, or he remembers to let go."
"You're a cold one, Wixom," Max said.
"Jordahk will find his way back," Aristahl said over the comm. His voice was tired, but his passion came through. "You must detach to go forward."
"Detaching," Aurora said. "I'll stay as close as I can. The last drone just went. The fireship has about sixty seconds."
The world of the maze shredded, and Jordahk was wrenched. He couldn't focus, couldn't think. He dug his fingers into the white, but the maze slipped through them, refusing to hold together. He yelled in pain but couldn't hear himself. The totality of his vision was blurring into the bright white of the maze.
"More restraints, Aurora!," Max said. "He's bucking like a bronco."
"His pain," Khai said, "I can feel it! I cannot stand by."
"Khai, he wouldn't want you to do what you're contemplating, but I know what it's like to disobey for his own sake."
"Thank you, Max."
There was only pain, and the random noise of words whose meaning he couldn't comprehend. Yet, a part of his mind was touched with pride, and sad. But he could attach no specific thoughts to these sensations. He felt impossibly stretched between two points. His anchor was so far... he contemplated letting it go to save the maze.
"You're anchored to your strength," the woman said. "the foundation from which your manipulations extend. You mustn't let it go."
Suddenly, a deluge of cooling water passed through him. He was immersed in it. Clarity returned to his vision, and his fingers gained new purchase in the maze. He molded it from a bright white mass, about to break apart, back into a machine designed for a purpose.
"What's this?" The woman said. "A youthful experiment of mercy yielding fruit two centuries later? A lost child of the Khromas has awakened. But this is beyond her."
"Thirty seconds," Max said.
"I've got to break off now or we'll never get clear," Aurora said.
"Do it," Aristahl said.
Things were beginning to make sense, even as the two points he was strung between grew farther apart. If not for the cooling water around him, he would certainly be consumed like a dry twig. The strain was
still there, and worsening, but somehow, someone was bearing it for him. The pressure was breaking them, yet they remained determined—and resigned. He knew this had to end, and quickly.
"Fifteen seconds," Max said.
He was amazed by the purchase his fingers had on the maze now. A picture formed of space around him, beyond the maze. The wall of energy points was near. Ships. But he knew they still lay too far. He had to do more to reach them.
"Why are you here, heir of Thule-Riss? Why is someone sacrificing herself for you? When you remember, you can complete your mission," the woman said.
"Who are you?"
"Some call me Olahn-Dehr."
His mind cleared, because it had to. Because he willed it, and because no one could do it for him. He recalled his mother's dream with precipitous clarity.
Crossed eras, metal and flesh.
From them, luminous justice blooms.
Arcs of retribution shall be the petals.
"I remember." Jordahk plunged his fingers into the rotary devices, the ones that reminded him of Aurora's grav impellers. "And I'm learning who I am."
It felt like his fingers were each going to be pulled off. Every last erg of energy was sucked from his body. The devices spun slowly for only a second before blurring into energetic vortices beyond their scale, reaching outward to distort space.
The cooling water rushed away, and he bore the entire burden himself. He could only stiffen in mute pain, but he refused to withdraw his fingers.
"Five seconds," Max said.
He listened to Max countdown. Five seconds that felt like an eternity.
"Let go, kid! Detonate. Do you hear me? Detonate!"
"Sir, we're getting some crazy readings," Mason's bridge officer said. "They don't match any fireship detonation on record. They don't match anything!"
Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting Page 45