by B. V. Larson
Zye cocked her head, clearly astonished. “How can he be so old and still serving in the military? No Beta has ever lived so long.”
“Well, we have longevity treatments,” I said. “But they’re not perfect. He could easily tear an arterial wall—causing a stroke, or blood clots. They’re real dangers after the first century of life.”
Zye moved to Rumbold’s chair and knelt, examining him. She put her hand to his throat to feel his pulse. Then she brought out instruments.
“I might have killed him,” she said. “I didn’t know he was so frail. I’m sorry, Captain.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “You followed my orders and saved the rest of us. Besides, Rumbold is as tough as nails. He might surprise you.”
I lightly touched Zye’s back as I walked past. It was an automatic gesture of comfort.
She didn’t stiffen in alarm, but she did turn her head in my direction and give me a quizzical look. I got the feeling that Betas didn’t go around hugging one another when they felt bad.
Checking on Yamada, I found she was sick. She vomited, then tried to stand. I urged her to stay in her chair.
The door swished open and Lieutenant Morris walked onto the deck. He looked more fit than any of us, except for Zye herself.
“Did you do it?” he asked. “All the boys are betting on it down below.”
There was an odd look on his face, and a pistol in his hand. I glanced at the gun, then back at him.
Zye caught on a moment later. She stood quickly and moved to draw her weapon. I raised a hand, directing her to stop.
“What’s the problem, Morris?” I asked.
“You did it, didn’t you?” he asked, glaring at me. “You destroyed our last ships.”
“No,” I said, “I didn’t. Did you notice that extreme bout of acceleration? We outran them, that’s all.”
He frowned, looking back and forth between Zye and myself.
“I blacked out during the maneuvers,” he said, letting his hand slip from the butt of his pistol.
I noticed Zye kept her hand on her weapon, and I didn’t admonish her.
“We all blacked out,” I said. “Except for Zye.”
Morris looked at her with fresh suspicion. “Then why didn’t she shoot back?” he asked. “She’s always quick on the draw.”
“That’s true,” I said, “but I ordered her not to. She knows how to follow orders.”
Morris snorted. “That’s nice for her. Maybe you should try doing the same, occasionally.”
“If you’re referring to Admiral Hedon’s orders, they were illegal.”
“How’s that?”
“You can’t order a friendly ship to stand still while you destroy her and her crew—especially without any cause or trial. There was no investigation, no due process, nothing. We hadn’t fired a shot at them, so they couldn’t claim self-defense.”
Morris worked his lips for a moment, wiped his mouth with his hand, and nodded. “That does go against regs,” he admitted.
“That’s why we ran. We were within our rights to do so. Unless, of course, you and the rest of Altair’s crew would rather I had followed the good Admirals orders and had us jettisoned into space in hopes of being picked up—if we survived the blast radius of this ship?”
“Okay, okay—but what now? CENTCOM isn’t going to stand for this.”
“We’ll explain it to them.”
He laughed bitterly, found a chair and flopped tiredly into it. He dug out a flask of what I assumed to be whiskey and took a drink. He offered me some.
At first I refused, but then I thought the better of it and took a gulp. It was hot, body-warm, and tasted like gasoline.
“Good stuff, huh?” Morris asked.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Is he okay?” Morris asked, pointing at Rumbold.
Zye was bending over him, applying a medical scanner. All the lights on it were yellow. I assumed that wasn’t a good sign.
“He’ll probably pull through,” I said.
“Good, I like that old guy.
“Lieutenant,” I said to Morris, “what would you have done if I’d said we had fired on the destroyers?”
He took another drink. “I think I would have blown my brains out.”
I eyed him in surprise. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”
“No? You ever been involved with a court-martial?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Me either,” he said, “and I don’t intend to—ever. It would kill my old man. He was in the Guard for fifty years. I couldn’t do that to him. I’d rather put myself down and be accounted as a man who died doing his duty.”
“I see... What do you think we should do next?”
“I’m not the Captain,” he answered gruffly.
“No, but I’m still asking for your advice.”
He appeared thoughtful. “I’d fly this bird home and park her in orbit. Then give CENTCOM the keys to her on your terms. They’ll have to take them. What else can they do? This is the biggest thing that’s happened to Star Guard since the Cataclysm itself.”
“That’s good advice, thank you.”
Standing, I went to check on Rumbold again. Yamada was working on him now. She had her portable medical kit out. The lights were now half-green and half-yellow, which was an improvement.
“I think he’s going to pull through,” she said. “He had some internal bleeding, but with a transfusion and a dose of surgical nanites in his veins, he should be okay in a few hours.”
“Where’s Zye?” I asked.
“Right here, Captain.”
I turned and saw she had positioned herself behind Morris.
The Lieutenant stood up and looked at her. “You’re as quiet as a cat when you want to be,” he said, laughing.
Zye just stared at him. She didn’t take her eyes off him or his gun for the next hour—not until he finally left the bridge.
“She’s like a cat staring down a canary all right!” Rumbold croaked after the lieutenant was gone.
Surprised, I turned to see he was awake but still lying groggily in his chair. I nodded my thanks to Yamada.
“He’ll pull through,” she said again. “He’s a tough old bird.”
“What’s a cat?” Zye demanded suddenly.
I glanced at her, and I found she was watching us intently.
“A cat is a quiet, predatory animal,” I told her.
Zye’s face flickered. A smile? It was hard to tell.
“I accept your comparison without taking offense,” she told Rumbold gravely.
Rumbold rolled his eyes. They were the only part of him that was moving freely.
Fortunately, Zye didn’t react to the eye-roll. She might not have known what the gesture meant.
-35-
A full day passed that was relatively uneventful. Outrunning the destroyers to Earth proved to be an easy task, but they weren’t far behind me.
It wasn’t until we were quite close to Earth that the jamming finally stopped. As soon as it did, we attempted communication with our superiors.
Unfortunately, CENTCOM wasn’t pleased with the situation. In fact, I came to realize they were terrified.
“Unknown vessel, you are hereby ordered to halt. Your approach to Earth is an act of war and will be met with deadly force.”
I turned to Yamada. “What’s the signal delay from this range?”
“We’re about two million kilometers out. The Moon is on the far side of Earth, but we’ve got satellites to bounce through—I’d say we’ve got a ten light-second lag.”
“All right, try to open a regular channel with whoever has the conn down there.”
Yamada worked the controls. At last, a person I knew to be Admiral Cunningham appeared. She was only slightly younger-looking than Admiral Hedon had been, but looks could be deceiving when longevity treatments were involved. It all depended on the critical point at which a person began taking them. Often, wome
n opted to start the treatments early, which allowed them to hold onto the end of their youth. Consequently, Admiral Cunningham appeared to be in her late forties.
“To whom am I speaking?” she demanded.
“Admiral Cunningham,” I said, “I’m Lieutenant Commander William Sparhawk. I’m the acting captain of this battle cruiser, Defiant.”
She was silent for some time as the information was transmitted and relayed around the cosmos. During that time, her eyes roved over the scene on my bridge. As Hedon had done, she soon fixated upon Zye.
“You’re incorrect, Sparhawk,” she said at last. “You’re not a captain. You’ve been relieved. You’re actions are inexplicable, and they’ve been classified as hostile. Now, listen to me: you’ll stand down, allowing your ship to be boarded. You’ll be arrested and removed. Do you understand me, Commander?”
Despite my determination, I felt stressed. It wasn’t every day a mid-ranking officer faced a series of angry members of the highest brass.
“I will do as you command, Admiral,” I said. “I feel compelled to explain my actions, however. Admiral Hedon did not simply order me to stand down. He informed me he was going to fire on my ship and destroy her. Ordering a ship and crew to idly stand their posts while they are destroyed is an illegal act. I therefore refused to follow his orders.”
We waited through the lag, which was only about ten seconds this time. Admiral Cunningham frowned as she listened to my transmission, then she replied.
“You’re defying orders again?” she demanded. “All the while you banter with me, you’re approaching at high speed. We have no choice but to assume that you’re going to attack Earth. Our missile batteries are on high alert. I’ll fire if I have to, Sparhawk, and we only have a few minutes before I have to make that call.”
I sighed, letting the air out of my lungs in a long, drawn out manner. Turning to Yamada, I made a spinning motion with my index finger. She cut the feed to the screens.
“Send her the evidence,” I told her. We’d long ago edited a file showing Admiral Hedon’s statements clearly. “Rumbold, slow us down. Don’t let the destroyers catch up, but make a good show of braking.”
“On it, sir,” he said.
“Zye, you know what to do if we start to black out.”
“I understand,” she said.
We turned the screens back on and waited for Admiral Cunningham to receive the file.
She frowned, viewing the recording we’d sent. She looked up sharply when she heard Hedon say we had to be destroyed, that he couldn’t afford to take the chance to board us.
“I see,” she said. “Hedon didn’t follow his orders—but I can understand his reasoning. I can also understand yours…it’s a delicate situation.”
“There’s nothing to fear, Admiral,” I said firmly. “I’m coming home, that’s all. I’m delivering a prize undreamed of. Please don’t ask me to stand still and die. I’m an officer of the Guard. I’ve comported myself honorably throughout this difficult mission. I would ask that you accept that. I will surrender this ship to you personally when I arrive.”
She looked troubled. I could see the indecision.
“You’re asking me to take too big of a gamble, Sparhawk,” she said. “Try to see this from my point of view: You’re approaching with sufficient firepower to level our cities. We have to fire our missiles. There just isn’t any other way.”
It was my turn to become intense. “You can’t order me to die without cause, Admiral,” I said. “I’ll be forced to defend myself and my crew. It’s my sworn duty.”
“A threat!” she said, perking up. “That’s the first time you’ve shown your hand, Sparhawk. You do intend to dominate our world with this alien battlewagon of yours, don’t you? And to think you come from a family of means. I’ve been charged with defending this planet, and I—”
She went on after that, but I talked over her, not listening.
“Admiral, please,” I said. “I’m slowing down, surely you can see that. I think we might come to an accord. Order Hedon to stop chasing us. We’ll stay at range. Then, you can come up here and inspect this prize personally. I’ll give you command of her upon your arrival.”
Finally, Admiral Cunningham stopped talking. She was getting my message. We were only about seven light-seconds apart now.
She appeared to be alarmed at my suggestion.
“A hostage? You expect me to give you a hostage, is that it?”
I released another sigh. “No, madam. I do not. I expect you to take command of the greatest prize Earth’s ever been offered—”
I got no further. I realized she was no longer listening to me. She turned back to the screen after having spoken to subordinates.
“I’m sorry Sparhawk. You’ve crossed the line. We can’t allow you to come any closer.”
“Sir!” Yamada said. “We’ve got multiple launches…Fort Luna and the Lagrange Five Guardian Platform—they’ve both released a barrage!”
Everyone on the bridge fell silent around me. They were staring at their boards in shock. Dozens of red contacts appeared, then dozens more. They were converging slowly on our position from two angles.
My lips worked for a moment, but I was speechless. I honestly hadn’t thought they would take it this far.
Admiral Cunningham stood at attention and saluted me on screen.
“I’ll put the best possible face on it when I inform your next of kin, Commander,” she said solemnly. “Cunningham out.”
The channel closed, and we were left staring at a blank screen.
“Your orders, sir?” Zye asked several long seconds later.
Her voice was calm. I envied her ice-cold mind.
“Stand down,” I said. “All engines stop.”
They looked at one another. Everyone except Zye appeared to be sweating. Rumbold responded first.
“All engines stop,” he announced. “It’s been good serving, Skipper.”
“Thank you, Chief,” I said, “but we’re not done yet.”
Spinning my gyroscopic chair around, I faced Zye. “Activate our point defenses.”
“Already done.”
I snorted. She’d acted without orders—but then, I hadn’t ordered her not to turn on the gun pods, and she was in charge of the ship’s tactical weaponry.
“Zye,” I said, “are all our pods operational now?”
“Yes. Reconstruction was never stopped. The repair bots finished the task some hours ago. They’ve since moved on to repairing the medical bay.”
“Do you have any estimates as to how many missiles it would take to overload our defensive guns?”
“No,” she said, “I’m not formally trained as a weapons officer.”
“Of course…but you’ve read up on the systems, right?”
“Naturally. This situation is unprecedented in the documentation, however. All damage estimates include factors such as evasive maneuvers on our part. To stand still—it’s suicide, sir.”
Nodding, I couldn’t argue with her. “It’s meant to look that way.”
“Why?” Yamada asked me suddenly.
“I’m hoping they’ll reconsider. I’m hoping they’ll self-destruct those missiles at the last minute when they realize what a monumental error they’re making.”
Rumbold sighed and pushed back from his station. “Sir, if I may speak plainly?”
“I can’t conceive of a better moment for plain talk.”
“They won’t back down. They’ll hit us with everything they’ve got. They’re afraid, sir, and frightened people do thoughtless things.”
I nodded slowly. “I know that. But I can’t think of any other path for us.”
“We could press forward,” Zye said. “We could slip into orbit—a low orbit. With our main batteries poised over defenseless cities, we could demand they destroy those missiles they’ve launched against us. I’ve done the math—we could reach Earth before those missiles reach us. All I need is your order, sir.”
Zye had given me a grim choice. I thought about giving the order to press ahead—I honestly did. But at last, I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “We’ll sit here, and we’ll ride it out. What will hit us first, the destroyers or the missile barrage?”
“The missiles—they’ll be here in about two hours.”
“Okay. Move everyone to the internal chambers. Create some baffles along the outer hull regions to absorb shock. Check and double-check every point-defense gun.”
White-faced, Rumbold and Yamada moved to follow my orders. Zye got up, and I looked at her questioningly.
“I’m going to check on the status of the cannons personally. Please don’t let that Marine Commander onto the bridge, sir.”
I chuckled. “He’s the least of my concerns—but all right.”
She left, and I looked after her.
I had to wonder what they were thinking down there on Earth. What kind of panic there was in the streets? By now, they had to know we were approaching. The news people had cameras, nano-spies and paid informants everywhere. The government was like a sieve when it came to withholding important information. Earth hadn’t faced a real worldwide crisis of this magnitude in more than a century—perhaps never. There was no way they could keep a story this big from breaking down there.
That meant my parents were aware of the situation. They had to be watching. It was a disturbing thought. Quite possibly, they were going to learn of my death by witnessing my transformation into a floating heap of radioactive slag.
Two hours is a long time to wait for death.
During that time, we busied ourselves with preparations. We did what we could, shoring up our hull, creating blast-barriers and test-firing the countermeasures. We donned our helmets and pumped the air out of the pressurized regions of the ship. That was to help prevent blast-transference. Without air inside the ship, concussive blast waves would be much weaker and less dangerous.
For the most part, it was all an exercise designed to keep our minds off the fateful future. I think most of the crew knew that the shielding and hull would either hold or they wouldn’t.
Only Zye seemed unperturbed by the situation. She followed every order with mechanical attention to detail.