by Chris Reher
“Drink up, Arawaj,” Rakh intruded upon Lok’s private thoughts. “The girl is yours. Do what you want with her. If she doesn’t kill us all trying to jump us out of here.”
* * *
“Let’s see if we can get this motherless bucket of bolts home, Shan Jovan,” Nova said in her best Air Command pilot voice when she and Jovan had settled into the pilot couches on the bridge.
There was only one rebel on the bridge to watch over them, along with another pilot and navigator who would assist them once they made the jump. So far, they had managed to delay while Nova occasionally opened the keyhole only to let it collapse again, traded some pointless and entirely made-up jargon about Delphian mental disciplines and, for the most part, simply spent their time resting, eyes closed, as they pretended to explore the void beyond the keyhole.
They began each session with a short khamal lasting only long enough for Nova to cast about for Tychon’s presence, feeling him somewhere out there, but not yet near Dannakor. The pain this caused Jovan was intense and, as much as she ached to do so, Nova avoided speaking to Tychon. Still, knowing that he was coming closer, no doubt at the head of the entire Vanguard wing, helped her remain positive and focused.
The door behind them opened and Rakh entered the bridge, followed by Lok. He put a booted foot on the edge of Nova’s couch and propped his folded arms on his knee as he bent forward. “So how are our little co-pilots on this fine day,” he said brightly.
Nova glanced at Jovan who also seemed puzzled by Rakh’s demeanor. The rebel captain seemed almost cheerful. “Could use a cup of tea, to be honest,” she said. She felt Sao Lok hover near her shoulder.
Rakh smiled and waved his hand carelessly at the guard slouching nearby. “You heard the Captain,” he said. “See if you can find her and her Delphian friend some tea.”
The surprised guard moved to the door.
“Sweet tea. None of that Centauri crap!” Nova yelled after him. She frowned up at Rakh. “What do you want, Rakh? We’re a little busy here.”
He nodded in Lok’s direction. “We’ve had a chat and decided that you’re taking us to Gramor.”
“Gramor! Which one?”
“Gramor Bejo.”
“Why there? It’s nothing but rocks. We’re going back to Dannakor, I thought.”
“Don’t be absurd. By now that sub-sector is going to be choked with Air Command patrols. I’m sure they’re wanting you back. Do you really think I’m going to jump into the middle of that?”
“I could maybe jump us out early. But Gramor! This isn’t some commuter transport you can just stop to drop off passengers. I’m not even sure I know how to find the Gramor system.”
“You better.” Rakh’s oddly amiable expression returned to its previous glower. Nova was almost glad. At least that one she could read. “Don’t play with me, Whiteside. If we find ourselves anywhere near an Air Command ship every last one of you is going to die before we get boarded.”
“We’ve been mapping for Dannakor,” Jovan interrupted. “Now we’ll need more time.”
Rakh glanced at the navigator who shook her head. “Once she’s through she’ll know where she’s going,” she said.
“I said don’t play with me,” Rakh snapped and grasped the front of Jovan’s shirt to lift him out of his couch. “So far you haven’t had much pain, Delphi, seeing how much more polite you are than your pal here. But if you want pain we can get that for you.”
“You’ll find that Delphians are a lot more durable than you think,” Jovan replied calmly.
“Why are you baiting him?” Nova said to Jovan. She gestured at the navigator. “They’re not stupid.”
“I suppose,” he said. “At least not for a bunch of Centauri.”
Rakh raised his fist to strike Jovan.
“Stop that,” Lok said. “He’s doing that on purpose. He’s stalling, trying to get you to incapacitate him.”
Rakh shoved Jovan abruptly back into his couch. The youth raised his hands to straighten the long strands of his tousled hair and Nova was sure she had seen a grin on his face.
“Is that what you’re doing?” Rakh looked from Jovan to Nova. “Stalling? Hoping someone’s going to come through that breach and rescue you?”
“I might only be a Level One but even us chartjumpers know that isn’t possible. They won’t know where we exited.” She glared at Jovan. “Leave him be. He’s just a kid. We’re all getting jumpy here.”
Rakh leaned down and jabbed his finger between her eyes. “The only jumping here is what you’re about to show us, Whiteside. You’re out of time. If you don’t make an attempt in the next few hours you will find out what pain is, both of you.” He straightened up. “And don’t worry. It won’t incapacitate either of you. We know what we’re doing, for a bunch of Centauri.” He turned to take two cups from the rebel that had returned to the bridge. Grinning, he handed one to Lok and emptied the other with a few deep gulps. “Fine idea. I should have tea more often. Now get busy. I’ll expect to hear the call for entry prep before shift’s end.”
Lok waited until the Shri-Lan had left the bridge before he handed his tea cup to Nova. She wanted to refuse but then her parched throat won the internal argument. She sipped some of it and then held the cup out to Jovan. He shook his head.
The Caspian barely glanced at the youth. “I am going to offer Rakh to hold the others for him on Gramor,” he said in a low voice. He said nothing more but his expression invited her to draw her own conclusions. She raised an eyebrow in question and he smiled encouragingly. If Rakh left the other captives behind when he rejoined his rebel fleet it would be far easier to liberate the hostages.
If only she knew what he and Rakh had schemed! No Arawaj went out of their way to cooperate with the Shri-Lan yet some sort of alliance had sprung up between them that went beyond merely being stuck out here together. Or was it possible that Sao Lok was sincere? Was he merely humoring the Centauri to get them back to Trans-Targon? Did he really have some grand scheme to end the wars?
She nodded. “Thanks for the tea.”
“I will try to get you something to eat before you make the jump. It will no doubt be a difficult undertaking.”
Nova exhaled audibly when he had left the bridge. Sao Lok confused her and, in his presence, she balanced on some internal fulcrum swinging from deep suspicion to actually wanting to like the Caspian.
She nodded to Jovan. He complied by reaching out to touch the interface at her temple. She closed her eyes.
What was that about? she sent moodily. Leave the rebels to me.
Because you’re so good at getting beaten up? How’s that arm?
Don’t remind me.
How much time do we need?
She allowed him to draw her into a deeper khamal and began to look for Tychon’s mute presence. Distance had no meaning when, aided by Jovan’s powerful mind, it came to feeling his presence, but she was able to tell that he was physically closer now. She bit her lip to keep a smile off her face when she felt Tychon’s touch.
They’ve jumped to Dannakor, she conveyed to Jovan. Only a few hours out now. They’ll be at the keyhole soon.
He’s not well, Jovan replied, feeling Tychon almost as clearly as Nova did.
Was a long jump from where they came from. He’s so tired.
Never too tired for you, Greenie, came a distant reply. Tychon added a mental question about their wellbeing.
No worries, she replied. The kid’s a handful. Is that what we have to look forward to? Remind me to ask your mother about dealing with Delphian adolescents.
Tychon sent a smile when they both perceived Jovan’s indignation.
They want us to jump to Gramor Bejo.
Why?
I have no idea. Nova waited when Tychon’s concentration wavered.
His attention was back on them a few moments later. There is a new Arawaj base there. I thought you’re on a Shri-Lan ship.
We are. But the captain and one of the Arawaj rebel
s here are hatching something. Made some sort of deal.
Any idea what they might be planning?
Just a feeling. The Arawaj tried to talk me into joining them. He also let it slip that some of his people are looking for revenge. For Pe Khoja. I guess he had a bigger following than we thought.
Again, a pause. Then: I’d say! He had a clan numbering over a hundred, including five mates, three of them female. And at least a dozen adult offspring by them.
And all of them angry with us. Lovely.
We’ll send a message to Air Command to direct their search for you to Gramor. It’ll take a while. Gramor is at the ass-end of the sector.
Major! Did you just say ass-end? Who is there with you?
Let your friend there rest. I need to rest, too. Trying to dig you out of that hole is going to take all we have. And get the kid some food. He’s starving.
And not admitting to it. They have us on some pretty short rations here. I hope you’ve got the galley stocked up. I could eat my own cooking right about now.
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
Nova smiled as he faded from their thoughts.
Are you all right? she sent to Jovan.
Getting used to the headache. He’s right. Let me rest a few hours and then let’s do this. He did not break their khamal but simply drifted into a sleep-like state. Nova also settled into her couch and, in her Human way, used the training she had received from Tychon to quiet her mind and let meditation supply her brain with the rest and energy that her starved body could not.
Hours passed as they dreamed quietly. She was aware of some restless movements as their guards traded places, Rakh came by to rant something she ignored, below them something massive sounded in the engine rooms, followed by a short disturbance in the ship’s already unstable gravity fields. Finally, something that felt as assuring as if Tychon had placed his hand on her shoulder reminded her of the task ahead. She reached out in a similar way to Jovan.
He opened his eyes and stared at nothing for a moment. “It’s time,” he said.
“It is.” She turned to their rebel guard that had looked up from whatever he was watching on a screen when she had spoken. “Water. Now. And some food. It better be edible if you ever want to see Trans-Targon again.”
“Are we actually going to jump?” the navigator in front of them said. She looked up at the ship’s main view screen that displayed exactly nothing.
“Going to try,” Nova replied. “I don’t suggest you plan any reunion parties just yet.”
The Feydan, a large, capable-looking woman whose brown skin was intricately tattooed, moodily checked controls that by now were probably as ready for sub-space entry as they had ever been. “This isn’t what I signed up for,” she said, as if to herself.
“What did you sign up for?” Jovan said. “Murdering soldiers? Destroying unprotected settlements? Watching your rebel friends rape and torture civilians?”
“Jovie...” Nova cautioned.
“Let her answer me. What is so important that you need to blow up a skyranch or hijack a transport of nothing but migrants?”
“Freedom from your Centauri overlords,” the woman spat. “They don’t belong here. Nor do her people. I don’t understand why you treat them like brothers. They will take your planet, too, if you let them.”
“Now you did it,” Nova sighed.
“I think we’ve managed to keep them at a distance,” Jovan replied, ignoring Nova. “Perhaps if your people hadn’t been so quick to invite them to your shores, eager for their toys and trinkets, they would not have made themselves at home there.”
“With guns and base stations in orbit!”
“That are also used to protect people. Your people, Feydan. In case you’ve forgotten that the rebel is as much of a threat to Feyd as it is to Delphi.” He held up a long-fingered hand. “And, although I would not call them brothers, you cannot deny that they belong to us. The evidence is in your blood as much as it is in the mirror.” He gestured to Nova, whose people were almost indistinguishable from Feydans.
Nova rolled her eyes, relieved when their guard returned to interrupt the debate by tossing a few bags of rations and water at them. Rakh was only a few steps behind him. “Glad to see you,” she said and tore into her share. “I mean that. Truly.”
They ate ravenously and never had lukewarm water tasted so wonderful.
“All right, all right, all right,” Rakh said, nearly wringing his hands with excitement. “Jump us!”
“Give us a moment,” Nova said. She connected her interface to the rebel ship’s processor and nodded to the navigator. The system came online and recognized her mental control of the helm. A warning went out to the rest of the ship to prepare for a rough ride. “You can’t rush these things.”
“How would you know? You’ve not done this before.”
“Probably a good reason not to rush this! Now quiet, everyone.” Nova looked over to Jovan who did nothing to disguise the fear and worry on his angular face. She reached for him and was surprised when he took her hand.
Trust Tychon, she sent. This jump is nothing for him.
When he’s the one doing the jumping, Jovan replied but then caught himself. I’m sorry. I know you can do this together.
We, she corrected him.
What happens after? When we get there? They’ll kill us all.
The Shri-Lan don’t kill Delphians. You’re worth a lot. Your family will make sure you’re returned to Delphi.
He stared into the middle distance. I have no family. The enclave is all there is. And they don’t pay ransom like some of the clans have.
Then Tychon will. I promise you. They won’t give us up without a fight.
He gave her a hesitant smile. You have much faith in your people.
I better.
“What is holding this up?” Rakh snapped.
Ready?
Let’s do this.
She relaxed into her couch and cast her thoughts into the vast void that separated them from Trans-Targon. By now she was so used to Jovan’s silent assistance that she felt Tychon’s presence almost at once.
Ty, she sent.
He hushed her wordlessly, knowing that they would need all of their energy for the navigation they were about to undertake.
I just wanted... If I don’t make it, I mean. Cyann... I don’t know...
She felt both Tychon and Jovan working to calm her thoughts, their touch on her mind soothing and reassuring.
I’m scared.
No, you’re not, Tychon sent. You are Captain Nova Whiteside, V7, daughter of Ironballs Whiteside and you can do this.
Ironballs? Jovan interjected.
Ty, I told Jovan you’d look after him if I don’t make it. Promise me you look after them both, she added, meaning Cyann.
I promise, he replied immediately as if he saw little point in even considering such an unlikely situation. He sent an abstraction that appeared in her mind like his hand reaching out to them and she took it. I’m not worried. You can do this. Let me pull you through. Do not engage the ANI for the jump, no matter what.
She turned her mind to the keyhole and carefully nudged the tiny breach in space to open it. The processors came alive, churning data and immense calculations to comprehend the anomaly and what they were asked to do with it. Nova directed the ship’s energy into the void.
Tychon took control of the processors, using Jovan’s abilities along with his own to find an exit near the Gramor system. She felt the strain he endured in maintaining this control, and the pain that both Delphians suffered as their brains fought the unnatural link to both Human and machine.
Warning signals erupted on the controls in front of them as Nova accelerated the ship toward the newly created jumpsite.
“What’s happening?” Rakh shouted.
“I don’t know,” the navigator tapped her controls. “It’s because there are two of them, I guess.” She rerouted some power to give Nova more to work with. “
Processor thinks it’s being hacked from outside the system.”
“Ditch the firewall, then.”
“Done.” She cursed. “Life support compromised. Evacuating lower deck. Long range sensors gone. Port shield minimal. All weapons offline.”
“She tricked us!”
Found it, Tychon sent. See it? Good. Punch it!
Nova shot the ship forward and into the frightful nothing that connected the two points in space. For a too-long moment there was nothing. The ship’s unnerving shimmy ceased, all sound stopped, and even the couch on which she lay had lost its meaning for her body. Only the thought of her hand clasping Tychon’s remained with her as the cruiser hurled through the breach and then burst back into real space.
Sound returned. Lights. Excited voices babbling something she did not understand. Pain in her head.
Nova looked over to Jovan. “Jovie?” The Delphian lay limply on his bench, his face bloodless, eyes closed. The hand she had held had dropped to the side. “Jovan!” she cried. She pushed herself up from her seat. Darkness descended and she felt herself falling and then there was nothing.
Chapter Eight
“Tychon!”
“Is he dead?”
“Why do you have to say stuff like that, Acie?”
“Well, he kinda looks dead.”
“He’s not dead!”
“Let him rest a while.”
Tychon groaned and waved his hand weakly as if that would make them all shut up. Surprisingly, it did. He lay exhausted and with a pounding headache in the Dutchman’s pilot couch and wished he were still unconscious.
Nova? he sent and winced at the new stab of pain in his head.
There was no reply.