"I will give you first choice of meat when we cook their captain," Jastavi promised. Such honor did well to keep the loyalty of his subordinates, and he would need such given the damage the humans inflicted. Jump, fool. See what it does for you.
The thought made Jastavi wonder. Just why hasn't the human jumped yet? Indeed the fool suspects we're tracking their ship, but they have no hope of victory remaining here.
* * *
The fighters were looming ever closer on the holotank in Henry's eye. The vessel behind them continued to fire, although none of its shots were hitting, and its missiles were having trouble keeping up with their maneuvers.
"Captain, I can't maintain this acceleration for much longer," Cera warned. "I'm showin' stress indicators on th' fusion drive."
"Just a bit longer," he said. Then he called up Pieter again. "Pieter…"
"Damn you, I'm going as fast as I can!" Exasperation was evident in Pieter's voice. "Just let me finish this up."
"The fighters are almost to weapons range, Jim," Tia pointed out.
"I'm aware of that." Henry let out a breath, as hard as that could be given they were still pulling 2Gs from the effort of the fusion drive. His eyes went back to the holotank as the cloud of red dots came closer and closer to the center. His vision was clouded by sweat dripping into his eyes from his brow. The seconds seemed to elongate as he wondered if he'd miscalculated somewhere, if this was how it would end for them, if he had let his crew down.
Ahead of him, Cera started speaking softly, her voice slightly choked. "Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee—"
"—blessed art thou amongst women," Piper added, her eyes closed and face pale with fear and worry. "And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
From her seat, Tia looked from them to Jim, while the holotank showed the fighters mere seconds from range, seconds that went by far too quickly.
The Tash'vakal fired a missile volley right at them.
"Jump!" Pieter's voice thundered over the intercom.
Cera's finger went to the control and punched it within a second.
The Shadow Wolf's Lawrence drive came to life, drawing power from both her regular reactors and her still-running fusion-drive reactor. Energy flowed from the drive core invisibly, coalescing ahead of the ship until it punctured a hole through space-time. Color blossomed in the void of space to form the mouth of a short-lived wormhole.
The Shadow Wolf plunged into it just as the missiles drew closer.
In the system on the other side, the Shadow Wolf's acceleration carried it on. Behind it, the escape wormhole closed. Half of a missile came through before the universe finished sealing the gap, leaving it to drift uselessly without its engine.
By that point, the next set of coordinates was fed into the projectors of the Shadow Wolf's Lawrence drive. Hot from the tremendous energy necessary to pierce the fabric of the universe, the drive became hotter still as energy yet again surged into it. Another wormhole blossomed open, and the ship rushed through it.
Once through the second wormhole, everyone nearly stopped breathing, as if waiting for something to go wrong, for something to explode from exotic particles, or for the enemy ships to appear. After ten seconds passed, Henry broke the silence by asking, "Any sign of pursuit?"
"None," Piper said.
At the helm, Cera crossed herself and let out a tense breath.
Henry was about to ask where they were, but he stopped at seeing the holotank display the incoming IFF information for a nearby station. "Trinidad Station," he said softly.
Piper nodded. Color hadn't quite yet returned to her face. "Figured we'd need somewhere we trust for repairs," she said. "Even if we're not coming with cargo for them this time."
"Even if we had been, we'd have lost it," Tia said. "Only one active hold still intact. It's going to take days and a lot of credits to get the ship back in shape."
"I know." Henry let out a long sigh of relief and frustration. Regardless of whether Caetano or Vitorino paid him, he could see his accounts draining from the repair expenses. "Take us in, Cera. On standard drives."
"Aye, sir," she said. "Plasma drives engaging."
The Shadow Wolf, wounded but intact, started her way back to one of the few ports that might properly have been called her home.
* * *
Few times in his existence had ever seen Ship-Lord Jastavi's rage so hot. He looked at the holotank display showing the current location of their prey and felt the urge to encourage the clan to attack anyway, not that it would have done him any good.
"Ship-Lord Tresak is offering to send us aid, as is Chief Lamat," his communications officer informed him. "They have noted our battle damage."
"Tell them our crews can handle—" Jastavi stopped himself. That was his pride talking, and only his pride. While that trait was crucial to a Ship-Lord, so was obligation. His clan was weakened if the Pahknabi was not repaired in due time. He had to face that the Pahknabi's crew needed help due to the deaths and injuries they'd endured. "Tell them I am honored by their assistance," he said forcefully, knowing full well that Tresak would never let him forget this. At the same time, his ambitions were certainly set back.
"Doing so now. What of our fighters?"
"Other Ship-Lords will recover them," Jastavi said. "Focus our efforts on repairs. The Pahknabi must be restored to strength."
"As you command, my Lord."
That meant little to Jastavi's rage. He didn't know whom he wished to slaughter more, the human captain who had just bested him or that damned Chantavit Li, who’d said nothing about the mettle of their foe. Bested by humans, tricked by humans… may the gods of the Void drag their souls to oblivion, and I will gladly free them from their bodies to provide the opportunity!
24
While Cera and Vidia minded the bridge, the rest of the crew met in the galley to take stock of their situation. Tia delivered the damage report with little emotion. Multiple hulled holds would have to be repaired so they could continue working, and at least three of the hull breaches were major. The survey of the damage would take days of work and a lot of credits to properly repair.
Henry listened to the report while nursing a small shot glass of bourbon. He found the substance useful, given his feelings and nerves. As always, he monitored himself carefully to ensure he wasn't becoming overly reliant on it. The last thing he wanted was to become an actual alcoholic.
"I think I can sum all this up by saying we got away without quite getting our asses handed to us," Tia remarked. "We'll probably spend a week on Trinidad, getting everything fixed, if not more."
"And don't forget the Lawrence drive," Pieter added. "We blew out half the bloody thing with that second jump."
"Our priorities will be major hull breaches, the drive, and the holds, in that order," Henry said.
"I think the drives can go last," Tia said. "We're at a safe harbor now, and we can afford to wait."
"Not everyone on Trinidad Station is trustworthy, as you well know." Henry gave her a knowing look. "We need to be able to leave if things get hot."
"Well, it's going to be a while," Pieter said. "I can only do so much. All of the coolant seals need inspecting, and most will probably need replacing."
"There are repair hands we can hire on once we make dock," Tia assured him. She looked almost as haggard as Henry felt.
"You'll want to talk to your friend too." Pieter turned to face her. Dark-brownish smudges from the chemicals he'd employed in his work showed on his jumpsuit and on his skin, including his face. "We've never run the fusion drive that long or that intensely before. We may need to replace the plasma manifolds, at the very least."
Tia acknowledged Pieter with a nod. "I'll speak to Khánh."
Throughout the meeting, Miri remained silent. To Henry, she seemed not so pleased to hear about their destination. "Trinidad Station is a pirate station, I thought?" she asked.
"Yes, and no," Tia answered. "It was put into orbit over a gas g
iant a hundred and fifty years ago to support a helium-extraction operation for some corporation few people remember. But the company failed. And because it turned out to be a marginal operation, nobody bothered to buy the station out. The profit margins were too thin."
"Presumably, the residents decided to stay?"
Tia snorted. "Decide? Nobody asked them. The gas miners and the support personnel were let go from their jobs, and they didn't earn much when they had them, so hiring passage would've bankrupted the ones that could manage to pay. No, like any other group of workers, they did what they had to in order to survive. They mine water from wherever they can find it in-system and grow what they can in the station. Even the simplest food can be a luxury item here. But since the station wasn't founded in anyone's legal territory, and nobody wanted to annex, it's an independent port, so plenty of people find that useful and use Trinidad for trade."
"Including pirates," Henry said. He was well familiar with Tia's in-depth knowledge of the station's history, given some of the ways it mirrored Hestia's experience with the less-scrupulous businessmen of the known galaxy. "The station's sort of a guild-run oligarchy. The gas miners, the agriculturalists, the engineers… each group has a say, as do the transport specialists who import everything they need to keep the station running."
"And the pirates are how they can afford to keep the station operating?" Miri asked.
"The initial pirates were desperate station-folk who hit ships for the goods to trade for survival," Tia answered. "When none of the planetary governments bothered to come after them, other pirate ships started coming in, as did smugglers. They all follow the same code, which is basically help keep the station going, don't rob from station residents or ships that import what the station needs, and don't do anything that would bring a fleet in."
"It's an interesting place," Piper added. "One of the better ports of call in the Trifid Region, if you're an independent trader. It guarantees the pirates will leave you alone."
"It's not a good place if you work for a corp," Miri pointed out. "All I ever heard about the place was that it was a pirate haven too difficult for the local powers to deal with, so Y&P and several other companies pay protection money to keep them off their ships. None of the transport and shipping companies recognize the station as a legitimate port of call because their insurers won't allow it. The station's not governed by interstellar trade treaties."
"That's the beauty of being independent," said Felix. "You don't have to listen to some self-important government bureaucrat."
"Still, we should be careful about you leaving the ship," Henry said to Miri. "There are enough desperate people on Trinidad that any money on your head can make you a target, whatever our links to the station community."
Miri narrowed her eyes, and Henry caught it. He couldn't blame her for being suspicious. She was in an isolated position, soon to be at a station where she had no immediate familiar contacts and unable to trust alternate means of leaving. Her safest course was with them. It wasn't so hard to imagine that a former spy might consider those circumstances and think them intentional. She did not voice such, however, merely asking, "Are there any means for me to reach P&Y? If I explain what happened—"
The Shadow Wolf crew exchanged glances, some of them uncomfortable. Henry's was the most uncomfortable of them all. "Listen, I know you think your company is the best way to go public, but consider this. After you told them where you were, word spread all the way to the Lusitanian government and whoever that guy was who tried to take you on Harron.''
"I’ve thought of this as well," she admitted.
"If someone in your company is leaking information, telling them you're here could lead to more trouble precisely when we don't need it." And we still have to find out how the Tash'vakal tracked us.
"However, by not speaking to them, Karla Lupa becomes a prime suspect in the loss of the Kensington Star. The League's involvement will not be recognized." Miri’s glance darted from person to person.
"Nothing can be done about that," Henry said, even as a part of him recoiled at letting the League get away with whatever they were up to. "This is about surviving, not being a hero."
Seeing that the conversation was talked out, he rose from his chair. "Okay, everyone, we're on damage control until we get to Trinidad. Cera, Piper, you get the first off-watch period. Everyone else is either on the bridge or attending to what damage control we can manage while in vacuum. We're still eight hours out from the station. Let's get to it," he said, ending the meeting.
* * *
Cera's plan to rest was dashed by how wound up she still was from one of the closest calls she'd ever had. Her mind kept going back to those minutes under 2Gs, trying to evade the incoming fire and failing, and the desperate wait for Pieter to approve the jump. Finally, she rose from the bed in her quarters and went to the rec room, hoping that watching something might help her get some rest.
She found Piper alone in the room, reading a digital pad in one of the side chairs. "Hey."
Piper glanced up. "Hey, Cera. Can't sleep?"
"Neither can you, I'm bettin'."
"Nope," Piper confirmed, setting the reader down. "Too much on my mind."
"Still wound up, then? I know I am." Cera settled into the nearest chair and turned it to face Piper. "That was a mighty fine close one."
"Closer than usual." Piper nodded and ran a hand through her dark hair. She wore a latent frown. "It makes me think about what it'll be like at the end. I mean, when my life ends. How it'll end."
Cera considered that and what she remembered from the bridge. "You surprised me with finishing my Hail Mary," she said. "I didn't know you were in the Church."
"The Tohono O'odham half of my family is almost entirely Catholic," Piper said. "My Cherokee relatives aren't, but I grew up living with my father's family." Piper folded her hands over the reader. "I can't say I'm sure I count as one, though."
"Did ye ever confirm?"
Piper shook her head. "My parents talked to me about it, but it was left to my choice, and I didn't. I suppose I'm not sure the Church is right about things." She smiled sardonically. "Although I guess that didn't stop me from praying when I thought we might die."
"I think everyone prays when they think they're about t' die," Cera answered.
"It's probably a bit cultural. It doesn't require belief, just a bit of going through motions. Doing what's expected. An automatic reflex."
The idea caused Cera to shrug. "Or it's that part of you that's hopin' there's somethin' better. That wants God t' be real an' t' be just."
"What about you?" Piper asked. "How much do you believe?"
Cera's expression turned pensive. "Well, that's fair to ask." She put her hands together and leaned forward to rest her chin on them. "I believe there's a God because the universe is too beautiful t' be random chance. That He sent a son t' guide us… I can accept that too."
"Not just to guide."
"True. T' sacrifice himself for our sins too. T' save us from damnation."
Piper shook her head. "That's one of the things I didn't like about Church dogma or about Christianity as a whole, this entire idea of hell and eternal torture."
"Sin isn't allowed into paradise. If you've got sin on your soul, you can't get in."
"But what sin is so horrible that it justifies an eternity of pain?"
"It's not about individual sins, it's that any sin stains your soul an' keeps you out o' heaven, unless you've repented of it an' done penance. You've got t' go somewhere then." Cera shrugged. "I've heard talk that hell's not about flaming pits an' th' like, that it's just separation from th' presence o' God, an' that's torture enough."
"So no fire and brimstone and sulfur, just—"
"Darkness. Nothing. No light, no warmth. Just deathly cold."
"That sounds like torture to me." Piper shook her head. "And I'd rather get off this topic. It's morose."
"It is," Cera conceded. "An' it's reminded me that it's been
too long since I last went t' confession."
"How long?"
Cera's forehead wrinkled as she considered the question. "Six months. I think. I may have been t' one when we were on Cantrim, but I spent most o' my time off-ship a bit drunk, an' some of it's a blur."
The admission drew a giggle from Piper. "I love our girls' nights as much as you do, but you do push it sometimes."
"I know, an' it's a stereotype t' some people, but life's here t' live, know what I mean?" Cera laughed lowly. "It's too short not t' enjoy it, especially when there's a war on an' such."
The war was always in the background of their lives, as it had been since the beginning. Most of the crew had only been little children, if alive at all, when the League revealed its arrival in Sagittarius by attacking Canaan. It was a bolt from the dark felt even in the neutral worlds like Sanctuary and New Connaught. Nobody knew if either side would expand the war one day or what would befall the neutral worlds if one side finally broke.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Piper suspected most knew, deep down, that the Coalition winning was in their best interest. A victorious League would quickly shed its would-be benevolence toward neutral worlds and attempt to conquer them regardless of their stance during the war. A defeated, broken Coalition, or one wholly occupied by the League, would make such a conquest inevitable.
The problem was that for many of the independent worlds, the Coalition was the devil they knew too well, so to speak. It was always the apparent threat to independence, going back to before the Saurian Wars, whatever it said about freedom. The overtly religious attitudes grated on many, giving the Coalition the air of being moralistic, holier-than-thou busybodies always passing judgment on their neighbors.
The League quickly exploited that sentiment, so people, even if they knew better, found it too easy to ignore the war, try to profit from it, or consider the League a necessary evil to restrain the Coalition. Even her own people often felt that way, whatever ties of culture and belief remained with the peoples in the Terran Coalition.
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 77