by Nick Webb
He linked his hands behind his back and stared into the middle distance rather than meet her eyes.
“As you left for the station, I received a call from Mr. Tang. I had decided after the mutiny that I would take any call of his in an attempt to learn what he had offered the mutineers for their loyalty.”
Her head tilted, and he paused, sensing her curiosity.
“Go on,” was all she said. She kept her voice cold. Good intentions in the past hardly mattered now.
“He did not offer me anything,” Larsen said. “I tried to lead him into a confession, but he was adamant that he was not the one who had organized the mutiny. He said….”
His voice trailed away, and he closed his eyes.
“Out with it.” Or I will throw you out an airlock, so help me God.
Her tone jolted him back to reality.
“He said that he was worried Tel’rabim had been losing the war for too long, and that he might have the capability … that he might try something irrational and try to … blow up the sun.”
“What?”
“He said that if all the Telestines were going to die anyway, Tel’rabim might very well make that choice—”
“You’re telling me,” Walker interrupted, “that Nhean thinks that Tel’rabim has the capability to take out … our sun?”
“I … yes.” Larsen shook his head helplessly. “I guess. I didn’t ask for more information.”
He hadn’t asked? She was going to kill him. She was going to throttle him with her bare hands. Hearing about a technology like that, and he hadn’t even asked to know more?
Larsen swallowed. “He asked me to take the King and two destroyers to patrol inside Mercury’s orbit, so that we could intercept any ships sent by Tel’rabim and take them down. Or … he asked me to persuade you to send me.”
There was a long silence.
“And what were you going to do, commander?” Her voice was like winter. She hoped that only she could hear the sad, lost note in it. Part of her was screaming that he hadn’t made a choice—but he hadn’t rejected the offer out of hand, either.
“I wasn’t sure.” Larsen admitted it plainly, at least, though his mouth had twisted. “I thought I would … have more time to research.”
“Research what, exactly? If an alien asshole in control of Earth can, in fact, destroy a star? Do you know how preposterous that sounds? Or were you researching how far up your own ass you could insert your gullible head?”
“If it was a good plan! If Nhean could be trusted!” The words were ripped out of him. “If it really was necessary. I knew he might have other reasons for asking me. Good God, Admiral, I’m on your side here.”
She ignored his casual mention of sides. “What did he even say his reasons were?”
“That you wouldn’t—” His voice trailed off when he saw her face. “Listen to him,” he finished quietly. “That you’d see it was a good idea if someone else said it, but not him.”
“And you thought, you really thought, that you could out-think, out-intel Nhean?” It was cruel to ask that of him, but what had he thought? “The fact that you even entertained such a request is—” She broke off, gave a sigh. “So you and Pike, then. Is it Delaney, too?”
But when she looked back, Larsen was only shaking his head. “I don’t understand.” His eyes narrowed: “Did Pike….”
She didn’t like the dawning look of satisfaction on his face. “As did you,” she reminded him, driving the words with all the force of a knife between the ribs. “You went behind my back as well. You listened to Nhean’s offer to manipulate me and you didn’t turn him down flat.”
Larsen looked away.
“So this is where I am now.” She stared him down. “I’ve reached the point where my council has to manage me. Where they don’t trust that I can make decisions rationally. Where I have to be led to the correct decision. Is that it? Is that what it’s come to?”
“Ma’am—”
“What do I do now, Larsen? My allies are conspiring with Nhean, even knowing he can’t be trusted. Half my fleet is gone, and firing on the half I left. So tell me the rest of the plan, if you even know it. Where were you going to lead me from here?” She wanted to hear him say that he had walked her into a situation without understanding it.
His face was white. “I don’t know. I didn’t know anything other than to take the ships inside Mercury’s orbit, I swear, and I might not even have said anything to you. I wasn’t sure.”
“You should have been sure,” she told him flatly. “You should have been sure from the first that it was better to tell me the truth than it was to listen to whispers from an enemy. You should have come to me—but you didn’t. So go. Go. I don’t want to see you. Go do what your duty tells you to do.”
“I would do anything to take it back!” he protested. “Anything, Laura.”
They both froze at the sound of her name.
A thought occurred to her, something tantalizing. He really would do anything right now, she knew that, and now was the time to give orders—when his mind would be clouded with guilt, when his resolve was called into question. She had made her own preparations weeks ago, and now, in the face of defeat, she needed someone who would act without hesitation.
“There was something I would have asked you to do,” she told him simply, “but I cannot trust you any longer.”
“I will do it!”
“How do I know that? This is a request that requires absolute discretion, and now I that I know you’re in Nhean’s pocket—”
“I’ll do it,” he said flatly. He was at her side. It was strange, having him look down at her. His eyes searched hers. “You know I would never have betrayed you, I would never have done anything against you. I had his request less than an hour before you learned of it. Don’t condemn me for things I didn’t even do.” His face twisted. “I was trying to save the fleet.”
She made a show of wavering.
“Please, Laura.” He said her name again, more boldly this time.
It was working. She thrust away her guilt at manipulating him, composed herself, then looked up and took one last moment to assess his resolve. Could she trust him with this?
Hopefully.
Now she just needed the cover story to hang together. She had spent time coming up with this one. She had even placed the iridium bomb they’d recovered on Mars on his ship, knowing that he was one of the likeliest people to undertake this task without asking too many questions.
She had always been prepared, she told herself, to sacrifice any one of them, herself included. That was what this kind of war required of a leader. And she had known that she might never truly have allies in her quest to destroy Earth—just pawns. She lifted her chin and delivered her lies with as much conviction as she could muster.
“There is … a sensitivity in the Telestine genome,” she said finally, adding this small lie to the truth, to make her orders more palatable. “There’s more to it than that, but the long and short of it is that we have a chance to weaken them—to kill off huge numbers of them on Earth.”
“How?” He breathed the word.
“A bomb developed by my researchers on Vesta, before it blew.” Another lie. “It will set off the required chain reactions, but it needs hydrogen for the catalyst. There is enough in the Marianas Trench—it’s under so much water pressure that the concentration of hydrogen atoms is higher than anywhere else accessible on Earth. I need it dropped there, but do not activate it. Not yet. I’ll do that myself, later.”
Later, he’d never forgive her for this. He’d never forgive her for using him to destroy humanity’s home.
She hoped to God he would.
“Yes, of course. Marianas Trench. ” He probably had no idea where that was, but would soon be checking old Earth maps. He spoke automatically before his brain caught up with him, and then he shook his head. “Shouldn’t we use it now, though?”
She wanted to, more than she could say. But with ever
y conceivable kind of blueprint within her grasp, she couldn’t afford to be trigger-happy.
“Genocide should be a last resort.” She held his eyes. “When the bomb is in place, and our fleet is reunited, then we can consider bargaining with Tel’rabim. The payload … is already on your ship. I had it delivered two weeks ago.”
“That’s why you were so worried,” he said slowly. “On the day of the mutiny.”
“Yes.” She tried not to flinch at the absolute panic of the memory—the terror that his ship had been taken and her bomb was lost. They had only just gotten it off Mars in the days after the Vesta disaster. From the look on his face, he was reliving that day as well, and he was saddened that it was the bomb she had been so worried about, and not him.
She didn’t have time for that just now.
“You must tell no one of this,” she cautioned him. “You know the stakes, you have seen battle. But when it comes to this many lives—”
He nodded jerkily. “Yes. I … yes.” He hesitated, then stepped closer. “I hope you know—”
“You need to go,” she told him. “Quickly. I need you in place, commander. Drop the bomb, and then … get to Mercury. Do what … Nhean … asked you to do.”
Her orders, and her bitter tone, recalled him. He stepped back, his cheeks reddening, and snapped a salute.
“I am so sorry, admiral.”
“As am I.” It wasn’t a lie. “But regret wastes time we don’t have. Look forward.”
And it was, she had to admit, with a certain sadness that she watched him walk away. She might never see this man again, and he would have no idea what he was doing until he did it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Triton
Aggy II
Cockpit
The Aggy II had barely escaped Neptune’s gravity well when the engines shut off. And they were still drifting at high velocity when their long-range sensors picked up the horrifying image of the Stockholm exploding.
“What the hell happened to it?” said James over the comm. He was in the engine room, struggling to get the thrusters back online. The pesky coolant leak had finally caught up to them, Ry supposed.
“It just … exploded. Going over the sensor log now. It doesn’t look like those Nettie bastards were even firing on it. It was just drifting at constant speed one moment, and then there was violent decompression, and then … boom,” said Gabriella.
An idea struck Ry, and he jabbed a few buttons on his console. “James, have you figured out what the hell happened to the engines?”
“No idea. They just … shut off. I can’t make hide nor hair of it. Never seen anything like it. Why? You worried it’s … not the coolant leak?”
Rychenkov thumbed towards the door and nearly yelled at Gabriella. “Get the kid up here.” He turned back to the computer console. “No, James, a minor coolant leak shouldn’t take down a whole engine like that. Something’s … something’s off.”
Gabby was going white. “What is it?”
“Something Nhean had said. Something about a virus the Netties have that they designed to take his ships. And, well, since this is technically his ship, then….”
“Oh God,” said Gabriella. “Deshawn! Get your ass up here!”
The kid finally poked his head into the cabin, rubbing an eye. “What? I was asleep—”
“Sleep later, make us not die now.” Ry pointed to the computer console. “The Netties are broadcasting something, and I think it must have made it into our computer system. Your new job? Stop it. Stop it and I’ll double your goddamn pay.”
That woke him up. Deshawn sat down and started working feverishly. They’d brought him on as an extra crew member to help out with the engine maintenance, but it turned out he was a software whizz. Lucky them.
“Guys, we’ve got a tail. Didn’t see it before.” Gabby pointed to the long-range sensor readout. “Looks like one of the old Exile Fleet ships the Netties stole. Heading right for us.”
“James! I need those engines now!” Rychenkov shouted into the comm. He whacked the kid on the shoulder. “And we need to purge that virus. NOW.”
Gabby shook her head. “It’s accelerating fast. They know we saw them.” She looked up. “They must have picked up our long-range scan. Now they’re high-tailing it for us.”
“Time?”
She ran a quick calculation. “Two minutes.”
“James! Now!” said Ry.
James swore over the comm. “Look, boss, miracles don’t come cheap.” More cursing over the line, and the sounds of clanking and possibly a small explosion. “I’ve initiated emergency shutdown, then I’ll bring them back to life in what I hope is safe-mode. Cycle the power—that’s basically the solution to everyth—”
The kid interrupted him. “I think I’ve narrowed it down. I found it, and I think I can hem it in to just the affected engine control system, and with James restarting them in an isolated manually-operated safe-mode, I think I can get us moving.”
Gabby tapped her watch. “Two minutes, guys.”
“Until weapons range?” Ry asked.
Her eyes went wide. “Until they get here. They can fire anytime they want, dumbass.”
The seconds ticked down. They seemed like minutes. Hours. But finally, a whoop came over the comm. “Engines restarted, ladies and germs. I’m coming up.”
Ry grabbed the acceleration controls and punched them hard. The ship started to accelerate almost faster than the Telestine inertial compensators could handle. “Just in time. How about that. Kid? Any luck locking that bitch down?”
Deshawn nodded. “Yeah. The virus is contained to the engine operating software. But since we’re on manual, we’re good.” He looked up with a wince on his face. “For now.”
The ship jolted to the right. Like something hit them.
“They’re firing at us,” said Rychenkov. He pushed the accelerator harder. “Luckily, that’s an old Exile Fleet ship, and this a brand new shiny Venus Sovereign Fleet ship. I think we’ve got them outmatched on acceleration by a factor of five….”
The ship rocked a few more times as the shots from the Nettie ship found their hull, but over the next few minutes, they decreased in frequency and then died away completely.
The comm sounded again. This time, it wasn’t James. “Uh, guys?” said Katya.
He didn’t like the sound of her voice. “What is it?”
“It’s James. It’s … it’s bad. One of the shots pierced the hull down here. Just as he was climbing the ladder from thruster B, and—”
Gabby bolted from her chair and raced out of the cabin.
What followed was a blur. Somehow, on autopilot, he made it down shortly after her.
But they were both too late. Katya held him in her arms, kneeling on the floor. Blood poured from his neck where the stray piece of broken metal had clipped it.
James was dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Triton
EFS Intrepid
Ready Room
Should I suspect Delaney, too?
She had asked it of Larsen only as a jab, but the question would not leave her alone. When she returned to the bridge, after confirming that the Andromache and the three other missile frigates had indeed not made it out of the Neptune system, she beckoned Delaney out of the room with a jerk of her head. She kept a stony silence while they walked to the captain’s quarters.
“What’s going on?” he asked as soon as the door closed. “All the secrecy with Larsen, the way you spoke to Pike….”
“Send word out to the rest of the fleet. Everyone. Every last ship. Meet us at Earth. We should be there in four days—that should give everyone else time to get there. We’re going to need it in case Tel’rabim tries to pull something on us when the Dawning tries to access the archive.”
“Laura.” He hesitated. “Sure. I’ll make the calls. But … what’s going on?”
“What’s going on with you?” she asked him instead. “Any concerns? Things
you’ve wanted to tell me to do, but haven’t? Questions about my … state of mind?”
He stared at her in silence.
“No,” he said finally. “Or … none that can be addressed.” The way her face changed must have frightened him, because he shook his head. “I told you, Laura, you’re the closest thing I have to a child. Why d’you think I wanted you to come to this ship instead of any other? I could have sent that shuttle to one of the destroyers, but I was … selfish. I wanted to keep an eye on you. I worry.”
“About?” She refused to be taken in by this. She began to pace around the room, throwing glances at him over her shoulder.
It was a neat place, this. Not a single shirt out of place. Delaney was never the type to have clutter.
“What d’you say to your daughter?” he asked her. “You tell her to be happy, you tell her to find someone who….” He sighed, and looked away. “You tell her not to get drawn into fights, you tell her to take as much joy from her life as she can. But what do you tell her when she’s the admiral of the fleet?”
She looked up in silence, her feet drawing to stillness.
“You can’t rest,” Delaney told her. “None of us can. You saw what happened to the Stockholm. To the Andromache. It seems our friends can now destroy our ships with the press of a button. So it doesn’t matter how much I worry when you’ve got shadows under your eyes. It’s life or death, we can’t let up. I’ve tried to do what I can, give you time alone with Pike, despite my reservations. You should have some joy. But there won’t be a wedding. There’ll be a battle.”
She began to laugh, and could not stop. “You don’t know how right you are,” she managed to get out. The sound of her voice was growing louder, wilder. “And you were all right, I should have thrown him off the ship the second he came back after Vesta.”
“What has he done?” Delaney’s hands were on her arms. “That son of a bitch, I swear—”
“He was working with Nhean this whole time. Nhean told me himself.” She forced herself to make it real by saying it out loud. She looked up to meet his eyes. “They didn’t think I was capable of making my own choices. Even Larsen—”