by B. V. Larson
Finding no one else, I decided this ambush had been set up to catch anyone entering the chamber. Perhaps Alberto had been unlucky, showing himself first and being shot for his trouble.
As far as I could tell, the dark chamber was empty except for the two dead men. I left, heading toward the generators, but I was wary now. I didn’t want to be taken by surprise again.
When I got to the power generators, I feared the worst. What if I was the last man aboard, being hunted by Singh’s crew through the labyrinthine ship?
Fortunately, the scratchy buzzing sounds that tickled my auditory nerves via my implants grew more distinct and turned into human voices. Friendly voices.
“I don’t get it,” Yamada was saying. “I’ve switched on two more generators, and less power is being distributed.”
“That’s because they got to the couplings,” I said, stepping out of the shadows.
Rumbold whirled around and for a second, I thought he might shoot me. But he controlled his surprised reaction and lowered his weapon.
“There you are, sir. Do you know what’s going on?”
I explained about Alberto and the man I’d found fooling with the power-couplings.
“But,” I said, “that doesn’t explain the lurching sensation I felt from the ship before that. What happened? Did someone try to engage the engines?”
“No, Captain,” Zye said. “It was your destroyer. They latched onto Defiant with some kind of beam.”
“A grav-beam,” Yamada said.
“Really?” I asked. “This ship must displace a hundred thousand metric tons. Maybe more with the ice on the hull. Singh might damage his engines trying to take us somewhere.”
“Let’s hope so,” Rumbold said. “From what I gather, he put down a few more marines to knock out our power and began dragging us at the same time.”
“Right,” I said, thinking hard. “He’s dragging his prize home…”
They all looked at me. The next move was my decision. Naturally, I had no idea what I should do. The situation was unprecedented. Despite that, I nodded with confidence.
“All right, fine,” I said firmly. “If he wants to up the ante, so will we.”
They stared for a moment, then Rumbold brightened. “Weapons? You want us to hook up the weapons systems and target locks, isn’t that right, sir?”
I thought about it, staring at him for a few seconds.
Finally, I nodded and gave them a confident smile. “That’s right. Let’s do it. This old battlewagon must have the power to damage one aging Earth destroyer.”
Yamada’s hand snaked forward and she clamped it over my wrist. “But sir,” she said, “we can’t destroy Altair. It would be unconscionable.”
“Don’t worry, I told her firmly. You get the targeting system working with Zye’s help, and we won’t have to.”
Spurred into action, the group set about following my orders.
While I stood guard and frequently checked the ship’s diagrams for any further signs of invasive forces, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d unleashed here in space today.
I’d contacted Earth, delivering revolutionary news. I’d killed a man—my first, I realized now in retrospect—and I’d ordered my tiny crew to fire on Altair.
What would tomorrow possibly bring that could be more startling?
-23-
Several hours later, I’d almost forgotten about the message I’d beamed to Earth. I’d been so busy helping my crew to get a full bank of generators operating again, it had slipped my mind.
“Captain?” Yamada said. “There’s a message for you, sir.”
I stared at her in confusion for a second, then quickly stepped up to the boards that she indicated. The message was from Chloe’s account.
“Your friend?” she asked.
“Yes, of course…thank you.”
“If you’d rather take it in private, I could—”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll view it on my retinal display.”
I piped the message to my implant, and it began playing at once. A few times during the presentation, it blurred and slipped, but each time it came back into focus.
Watching Chloe Astra’s body being superimposed on the world in front of me was an odd experience. She seemed to be right here among us—but she wasn’t.
I was accustomed to the technology, of course, but generally it didn’t have the kind of psychological impact that Chloe’s form had. She wore very little—something made of gauze, or synthetic silk. It hugged her lithe frame in ways I couldn’t help but notice. I gathered instantly that I’d interrupted her sleep. Out in space, stuck within a colonial battle cruiser, we’d lost track of what time it was back home.
“William,” she began, “what an odd and alarming message you sent me. I miss you too, and I hope you’ll be all right out there in the dark. About your request…”
She looked down, almost ashamedly, my heart sank to see it. I felt certain that she was about to tell me I was going to have to fend for myself.
But what she said next was quite possibly worse. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You have to understand…I’m a seventy-percent copy, just like you. I’m an integral member of House Astra, and I always will be. Don’t misunderstand, I’d like to help, I really would, but I’m taking a great risk by even speaking with you.”
My despair turned to confusion. Out loud, I muttered: “But why?”
Yamada and few others gave me a curious glance. I knew I must have looked odd to them—staring at nothing with unfocussed eyes. But I didn’t care about them right now, I was hanging on Chloe’s every word.
“I didn’t forward your message to my mother. You had essentially already sent it to her—you have to understand that. You see, I’m watched most of the time. After your visit things got worse. My communications are all monitored now, and anything interesting is immediately sent to my mother by the house AI. I am her heir, after all, and in her mind I’ve strayed lately…”
I was beginning to catch on. Her mother was the problem. As the leader of the Centrists, she was a dangerous political adversary for my father even though they’d seen eye to eye in regard to dismantling Star Guard.
A single tear ran down her face. “It began almost immediately. Before I even saw your message. The media are running those images you sent me—but edited versions. You’re being portrayed as a renegade. A madman flying a dangerous colonial relic. A threat to all humanity. And the political advertisements are blaming your father’s party. They—they twisted everything you said. You know what can be done with unsecured video.”
Nodding to myself, I did know. For political opponents, such things were clay to be molded into whatever form they wished. So that was it…I was to be handed the role of scapegoat.
“Your father is already firing back, naturally. He’s got a more accurate version of events playing—but the trouble is, the Navy isn’t taking your side. They’re backing Singh. Your father is on every news cycle, looking like his heir is a mutineer and he’s trying to cover up the truth.”
She shook her head and gathered herself. She was like me in that way, trained to be a master of self-control.
“You understand these things. My mother struck first. That was the first story the news people heard. Then the Guard backed her up—last came your father with a different version, but…well, the opinion polls are bad.”
Chloe finally looked directly into the vid pickup. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t do anything politically. I have no position to play, but I promise you I’ll back you up if I ever do. I believe in you, William Sparhawk, even if no one else does. Come back to Earth safely, any way you can.”
The message ended. I was left intently staring at nothing.
My crewmen were glancing at me and one another in concern.
“Good news, I hope?” Rumbold said half-jokingly.
“No,” I said. “We’re in trouble. And we’re on our own.”
I looked around at the fac
es surrounding me. Had I misplayed the situation? Had I gotten all of them listed as mutineers? Perhaps, I thought, I should give myself up right now. If Singh would accept my surrender, further bloodshed could be avoided and at least my innocent crew might be exonerated. After all, who could fault them for following the orders of their commander?
My mouth opened, but then it clamped closed again. I felt a surge of stubbornness. I wasn’t going to give in to my political enemies, nor those of my father.
Singh’s actions had begun to make sense to me, in a twisted way. He was an opponent of my father’s party. He wanted the Sparhawk family to be disgraced, to fall hard and hopefully die out entirely. Perhaps that was why he’d gone so far as to attempt to kill me and my crew.
It would not be the first time that extreme political views caused a man to behave irrationally, to turn against his own.
Standing up, I straightened my spine and looked around the questioning circle of faces. They were no longer working. They’d forgotten their tasks.
Stepping to the nearest generator, I made an adjustment and switched it on. Power thrummed in the room. I could feel the vibration and the static from it right through my boots.
“Weapons and basic sensors. I need both—and I need them now.”
Rumbold’s eyes were as big and round as ever. “You’ve got it, sir! Six more hours, that’s all I ask for. Then you’ll have those guns and the power to drive them! For sensors, you’ll have to ask Yamada.”
I turned to her, and she nodded thoughtfully. “We can do it. All they need is a fraction of the power that the cannons require. I recommend we switch them on last, so the enemy doesn’t knock them out right away.”
“Good thinking, we’ll leave them off until the critical moment. But do you really think all they need is a power supply? Are they undamaged?”
She stepped closer. “The sensor arrays aren’t in the best shape, and they’re covered in frost and debris—but the Altair is right on top of us. All we have to do is get a general directional fix. At this range we can’t miss—but sir, can I have a word?”
Nodding, I stepped aside, and she followed me.
Behind us, Rumbold got the rest of the crew grunting and heaving on another generator, attaching shunts and repairing a damaged coil.
“What is it, Yamada?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you,” she said privately. “I saw your face. The message is from Earth, isn’t it? Bad news?”
“No,” I said, “not really. Our situation hasn’t changed. We are in deep space, being improperly victimized by our task force leader. He’s made a false report back to the capital, that’s all.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “A false report—which they believed?”
I forced a smile I didn’t feel and laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Listen,” I said, “we’re far beyond visual range. Whatever happens out here will be explained by those who survive to tell the tale.”
“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” she whispered. “You’re going to take out Singh.”
Right then, as she said that, I realized she might be correct. Singh might force my hand. If he wouldn’t stop his attacks, what other choice did I have? To keep my crew alive, I might have to move against him with the same ruthlessness and determination that he had used. A battle couldn’t be won on a purely defensive basis. At some point, you had to turn the tables on your tormentor to achieve victory.
“We’ll see,” I said to Yamada, “but I’d prefer to do this without destroying anything or killing anyone.”
“That isn’t working out. You’ll have to take the fight to him.”
“We’ll see,” I repeated firmly.
I dropped my hand from her shoulder then, and she moved away. As she left, I noticed an intense pair of eyes studying the two of us.
The eyes studying me belonged to Zye. I was startled by their intense nature. Her expression was unreadable, as always, but I got the feeling she didn’t approve of my actions in regard to Yamada.
I dismissed Zye’s reaction and returned to my work. I didn’t have time to work out the vagaries of Beta psychology. I had a ship to repair, and a public relations battle to win.
I only hoped the situation wouldn’t escalate.
-24-
Despite Rumbold’s promise he’d get the guns running within hours, we’d spent almost a full day working at it. There were too many unknown systems and delays. I didn’t blame him, the crew was doing their best, but it was frustrating.
As every hour crept by, I feared Singh would launch some new attack, but he didn’t I suspected his defeat had changed his mind permanently on that angle.
We were moving at a pretty good clip by the time Rumbold reported the weapons systems were functional. Altair had been towing us the entire time, as if we were a chunk of scrap metal to be brought to Ceres for dismantlement.
We didn’t know where she was towing us, but it didn’t much matter. Wherever we were going, I was sure I didn’t want to go there.
“Activate the external sensors,” I ordered Yamada.
“Full active, sir? We’ll light her up. There’s no way she won’t know what’s coming. She’ll probably knock out our array the minute we do it.”
“I know,” I said, “but we’ll have a lock on her by that time.”
“There is another option, sir,” she said.
We were back in the life support section. It had become our local bridge. The real bridge had been found, but it wasn’t yet operational.
Our fire control was very limited as a result. We were almost operating the ship manually. We had a data feed running from the sensors embedded in the hull down to our displays in life support. Inside the ship, relayed suit radios carried my commands to the troops in the weapons pods.
“Rumbold,” I said, eyeing Yamada, “final check. Are your gunners ready?”
“Guns, one, two and three at the ready, sir. Just give the word, and we’ll power up. It might take a few seconds to charge—so keep that in mind, please.”
So many unknowns. It was nerve-racking enough guiding a ship I knew well through combat. Doing so while half-blind and flying a vessel I had no real understanding of was eating away at me. I hadn’t slept in twenty hours, and the inside of my suit needed a good airing out.
“Zye, are the generators fully operational?”
“The ones we’ve got online are all in the green, sir,” she said.
I would have to take her word for that. The ship was hers, after all. But we weren’t her people. I was surprised and pleased that she seemed to trust us now. Perhaps it was because her own people had abandoned her.
“Yamada,” I said, turning to her last, “you said something about another way? You’d better give it to me now. I’m not going to hold off much longer. It’s too risky. They might detect a power surge and damage everything we’ve worked so hard to build back up.”
“I know, Skipper. But I think you should give Singh one last chance. Contact him directly and negotiate.”
Frowning at her, I considered. “No,” I said a moment later. “It will only tip my hand. I’d have to threaten him to get him to listen, and that will give him the chance to react. It would endanger us too much.”
“I respect your opinion, sir,” she said, “but I think you should think about the aftermath.”
“What aftermath? We’re traitors, remember? How will it get any better or worse?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. Contact him, and we’ll record his responses. When and if we get back to Earth, we’ll have something to defend ourselves with. Recorded proof that we did our best to remedy the situation.”
“That’s an interesting idea,” I said. “My family is famous for such PR coups. We’ve traded our way to the top on them, in fact. You must realize by now how much I hate dirty tricks of that kind.”
“I know you do,” she said sympathetically. “But this isn’t just about you. It’s not even about your crew. It’s about Sta
r Guard itself. What do you think should happen, sir, in the light of this new knowledge?”
“What knowledge, specifically?”
“The fact that we’re not alone in the galaxy. That our colonists are out there, building dangerous fleets, and that one of those ships managed to make it here to our system.”
“I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought,” I admitted. “I’ve been focused on surviving.”
“Right, well, this is our chance to change everything. We’ve got to do this right. We’ve got to help Star Guard, and Earth itself.”
I heaved a sigh, and checked the time. I’d wasted two minutes talking to Yamada about this. At any point, Singh could make a move on me.
Trying to think clearly, I went over my options. She was right, of course. This situation was bigger than a squabble between two Guard officers in deep space. It was about the future of the navy and humanity in general.
I sighed deeply. “Open a channel to Altair,” I said.
Yamada whirled and put her hands on her board. She tapped three times and I could hear the call signal go out. A tone sounded, followed by silence, then the tone again. This cycle repeated six times.
“That’s enough,” I said. “He’s not interested.”
“Give him a minute, he might be taking a piss or something.”
“Then his exec would answer,” I said.
“Maybe he gave orders that only he could talk to you. That only makes sense given his actions, doesn’t it?”
Nodding, I had to agree. Six more times, the tone sounded. Then nine. Finally, I stood up and walked over to her. “Let’s cut the signal. Let him call us back if he—”
I stopped, the channel had opened and gone live.
“Sparhawk?” Singh’s voice asked. “You’ve finally called to surrender?”
“I’ve called to end this conflict, Captain.”
“Good. Here are my terms. You’ll come to the surface in a space suit, without armament. Come alone, the rest of your people will be allowed to exit the rock when you’re safely in custody. Now, as to the charges you’ll be confessing to—”