"The risk is real," Marny said, "but we are a privateer crew."
"You really willing to turn down fifteen thousand credits?" Hawthorn asked. "That's your cut."
"Can't spend money if I'm dead," Martinez said.
"Water under the bridge, Raul," Marny said. "We hired crew with the promise of payouts if we had prizes. As for repairing the ship, go ahead as long as it doesn't interfere with shifts."
A chime sounded, one they'd all become familiar with in the last few days of sailing. Marny's mouth watered in response and she turned to the hatch where Bear awaited her permission to serve. It had been a rocky road with the self-styled steward who lacked any formal military training and therefore hadn't initially understood the protocols of a wardroom.
For several minutes, the command crew helped transfer food to the table and then to their plates. As was custom, they waited for Marny to take the first bite before joining in.
"Adrian, how are repairs on Hornblower coming?" Marny asked after a few minutes, having lost interest in talk of privateer prizes long before the conversation had started.
"As expected, Hornblower's armor took a beating from the missiles," Hawthorn replied. "We'll need time where we're not under burn to replace the damaged plates. I'd recommend purchasing additional armor plates and storing them in the hold, if possible. The missiles, while not overly powerful, hit at rather unlucky locations and caused more damage than would be expected."
"Luck or skill?" Marny asked.
"Actually, lucky for us," Hawthorn answered. "We had some undetected weakness in the superstructure. I'd rather have discovered it now than when we were fighting for our lives."
"How would you assess engineering's performance during the battle?" Marny asked.
"Excellent," Hawthorn answered. "Our engineers worked diligently and performed admirably."
"I see," Marny said. "Let's put a pin in that for a moment. Raul, would you provide your assessment of the battle?"
"Certainly. We took more hits than I'd have liked," he said. "Our countermeasures failed, but the crew performed to my satisfaction."
"Noted," Marny answered. "Ada? Performance of the bridge crew?"
"C minus," Ada answered. "Lieutenant Brown is a fantastic sloop pilot, but she has much to learn about moving a large ship in combat. Further, I feel that Walser was slow to identify threats and establish communications with the Abasi patrol. Finally, I found I was so over-focused on piloting issues that I neglected my duties as Officer of the Deck. I appreciate that you recognized this and took charge when you did."
"Thank you," Marny said. "I'll ask the table; does anyone have further issues or suggestions for Ada?"
"Um, well, I guess I do," Roby answered, looking nervously to Hawthorn who was his superior.
"Go ahead, Roby, rank is ignored at a conflict debrief," Marny answered.
"I don't know much about the command stuff Ada was talking about," he started, locking eyes with Marny.
"Talk to Ada, not me," Marny said. "If we can't trust each other at dinner, how are we going to work as a team in battle?"
"Right," Roby answered, turning to Ada. "I guess we were pretty slow when you asked for more power."
"Why?" Ada asked.
"We were running over spec already," Hawthorn interrupted, testily. "We could just as easily have blown the chet valves."
"Do you really think so?" Roby asked, turning to Hawthorn.
"I have multiple engineering degrees," Hawthorn replied. "Yeah. I can do better than just think so. The stress put on those valves when we spooled up nearly ruined them. It's a matter of solid engineering principals and material science. I'd be happy to show you the simulations if you don't believe me."
Roby shrugged his shoulders and sat back, clearly unwilling to press the issue.
"Seems to me you didn't ruin 'em," Martinez offered unexpectedly. "What's your science say about that?"
"Oh, we’ll have to replace those valves now, that's for sure," Hawthorn said, unhappy to find himself defending on two fronts. "Do you know how long it takes to replicate those valves? We're talking ten valves at an hour apiece in one of our Class-Ds."
"Would it be fair to say there's a cost for the extra boost?" Marny asked.
"Darn right there is. You'd pay forty thousand credits on the market for 'em."
"The recovery time is probably the bigger concern," Nick said. "Let's put up an extra set. If I've learned anything it's that pilots want extra speed."
"We wouldn't have hit that frigate without it," Ada said. "And we could have ended the fight more quickly if I'd had it when I asked. Might even have been able to knock out one of the cutters."
"What happens when we blow one of those valves while in combat?" Marny asked.
"It's an hour," Hawthorn said but then caught himself. "But if we had spares, we could probably rig something up so they swap out pretty quickly."
"I was just thinking that," Roby said. "Like we do on the injector points for the oxide cleaners."
Marny leaned back in her chair, drinking the unfermented version of the berry juice. "Any other help for Ada?"
"Not for Ada," Raul Martinez said. "It's just … I think I'd like to revise my assessment of the fire-control team's performance."
"I'm all ears."
Chapter 9
A Spelunking We Will Go
It was mid-morning and I found myself standing on the sidewalk of a busy street. An unfamiliar smell burned my nose just as the loud roar of a vehicle, too close for comfort, passed next to me on the street. A dark plume of exhaust caused me to cough and I stumbled as my eyes suddenly watered.
"Hold on there!" A fish-faced man grabbed my arm with webbed fingers and pulled me away from a steady stream of smoke-belching vehicles.
"Thanks," I said, my eyes no doubt wide with surprise at the scales on his face and gills on his cheeks.
"Progress stops for no man," he replied cheerily. "Good day to you." He tipped the tall hat he wore toward me and rejoined the stream of fish-faced people hurriedly moving along the crowded walk.
Seeing an opening, I stepped away from the street and out of the flow of pedestrians. I coughed again. The air was thick with smoke and smelled of fire. Looking across the busy street at the brick buildings, I discovered each one was topped with a tall black stack, busily chugging out turbid gray smoke. The reek and noise of the city was such that I had difficulty orienting myself.
"Hold on there, fella." A strong hand grabbed my arm and led me through a thick glass door. A bell rang as the door opened and I was led into a bustling diner.
"Sorry, just feeling a bit woozy," I said apologetically, as he helped me to a high-backed wooden bench.
"New to town?" The man was older and, like the other stranger who had helped me, had scales for skin and gills that flapped as he breathed. "It's a lot to take in if you're from the country."
"Where am I?" I asked, still confused.
"Why you're in Bladelville," he said. "Shmadge, get this fella a hot cup of spice, would ya? I think the big city's got him a bit green behind the gills."
"Sure thing, Sharry," a woman's voice answered.
"Would you look at that," the man said, pointing out the window. I followed his webbed hand. The sky filled with thousands of blazing objects streaming toward the city.
"We need to take cover," I screamed as one of the objects struck the tallest building in view, exploding in a fiery crash. "The Kroerak are here!"
"What's a Kroerak?" the man asked, alarmed.
"Aliens." My heart sank as I realized I was in an emerging industrial society. The Kroerak would meet no resistance here.
I sat forward, my head hitting something hard, jarring me. Suddenly, I was no longer in the diner with the fish people, but floating in space above a planet. I looked beyond the planet's horizon and saw three moons in the distance — the moons I saw every night I was aboveground. The planet below me was Picis.
Immediately, upon identifying the planet
's name, my body sped through space, stopping at a wormhole entrance. It was the entrance Gaylon Brighton had come through when entering the Picis system. Popping through the gate, I entered a system I vaguely recalled. It had a single star and no habitable planets. I was pulled away and whisked to the other end of the solar system to a second wormhole that I also recognized. I expected to travel through, but instead I just sat there, looking at the flashing orange and yellow light show.
A moment later, two Kroerak cruisers exited the wormhole and slid forward toward me. Their menacing hulks powered up, clearing the way for more. For what felt like forever, I watched as ship after ship poured into the system. In total, I counted ten cruiser-class vessels and another twenty support ships of various sizes. It wasn't the fleet I'd seen before, but the implication was clear: this fleet was headed for Picis.
An overwhelming feeling of warmth pulsed through me, emanating from the Iskstar crystal I still held in the pouch at my waist.
"Are you telling me this fleet is coming?" I asked.
I received no response from the crystal other than to be whisked away and back toward the gate leading to the Picis system. I was sucked through the wormhole, back to the planet Picis, plunging through the atmosphere, and down to the city of Dskirnss. Helpless to direct my own movement, I sailed up to the blaster turret Sendrei had mounted atop the bunker in the center of town. The weapon was currently unarmed, as I held the Iskstar crystal at my waist.
I sighed. What was I thinking, keeping the crystal on me? As if in response to my internal query, I jetted away and sailed south along the highway to the site of the planetary defense weapon. Gaylon Brighton's second turret had been mounted and guarded the site of the excavation site. I'd been away from the site for a few days and was pleased and surprised at the progress that had been made.
Racing over the lip of the weapon silo, I plunged downward. The shaft had been completely excavated and I flew through the open door at the bottom. A haggard looking Sendrei sat among a jumble of wires that had been pulled away from one of the panels. Next to him floated Jonathan's egg-shaped vessel.
"I'm not getting a good power transfer from the main relay," Sendrei was saying. "I think the conduit might be damaged."
"It most certainly is," Jonathan answered. "We are manufacturing a replacement. Do not despair, Sendrei Buhari. There are only seven-hundred-twelve remaining items requiring your attention. We estimate you will resolve these issues within eighteen days."
Without warning, my disembodied self lurched from the room and raced out of the silo. At high speed I tore across the forest and into the foothills. Just about the time I started recognizing familiar trees, I was plunged into the tunnel and bumped along, finally arriving at the makeshift camp where Tabby, Jaelisk and I lay sleeping, surrounded by a crew of ten Piscivoru.
It was a weird feeling to watch myself sleep. With little pause, I disappeared inside my body and all went black. Startled, I sucked in a breath and sat up quickly. For the second time that morning my head hit the mud bank of the cave, only this time I was no longer locked in dreamland.
"Liam?" Tabby mumbled, no doubt feeling my movement.
"Kroerak are eight days out," I said, calculating the time it would take the lumbering fleet to cross the adjacent system and make it through the Picis system.
"What?" she asked. "Stop. I know this is stressful, but you're just dreaming. Go back to sleep; it's too early."
"No," I said. "It was more than a dream. I can prove it."
"Prove what? Tell me what was in your dream."
I recounted what I could recall, including the conversation between Sendrei and Jonathan at the silo.
"Well, that's nuts," she said. "That silo wasn't anywhere near clear when we left. So there's your proof."
"Sendrei, can you read me?" I asked. While we were nearly a kilometer back into the mountain, we'd added to Jonathan's mesh network by dropping communication pucks along the way.
"Good morning, Captain," Sendrei answered. To me, he sounded tired, but I might have been projecting.
"Need you to settle something for me and Tabbs," I said.
"Fair warning," Tabby cut in. "I think he might be losing it a little. All this crawling around under the mountain is taking a toll."
"You'd have a difficult time convincing me to crawl back into that hole, Tabby," Sendrei replied. "I think there's latitude for nutty behavior."
Tabby chuckled. "He says he thinks the silo surrounding the planetary defense weapon is clear of rocks this morning. I'm pretty sure when we left three days ago, Sklisk and Tskir weren't even close to clearing it."
"Liam is right, Tabitha," Jonathan interjected, listening in on the conversation. "We are most curious as to how Liam knows this, however. We do not believe there was reasonable expectation that the Piscivoru productivity would be quite so high. A crew of five arrived approximately a day after your departure and they, indeed, completed the removal of debris."
"See?" I said, poking her in the shoulder.
"Proves nothing," Tabby said.
"What are you trying to prove? And how is it that you came to this conclusion?" Jonathan asked.
"Were you and Sendrei just talking about power relays and conduits?" I asked.
"That's right, Liam," Sendrei answered. "What's going on?"
"Seriously?" Tabby said, rolling her eyes. "They're working on a giant energy weapon and you're guessing they're talking about power cables? I could have told you that."
"I've been having weird dreams, Sendrei," I said. "I'm not sure they're actually dreams, though."
"I might be with Tabby on this," Sendrei said. "Dreams are tricky. It's not unreasonable that your subconscious put together the fact that the Piscivoru have excellent spatial reasoning skills and have proven quick with machinery. And like she said, power pathways aren't much of a guess on a weapon such as this."
"Seven hundred twelve. Eighteen days," I said, smugly crossing my arms.
"What else did your dreams reveal?" Jonathan followed up quickly.
I smiled as shock registered in Sendrei's face, confirming I'd struck gold. I relayed my observations of both the Kroerak fleet’s recent arrival in the adjacent system and the massive force headed toward Zuri, including the super-battleship.
"The information, while upsetting, is useful," Jonathan said. "Until now, we have not had a timeframe to work against. We need you to return as quickly as possible, Captain."
"What about the mech suits?" Tabby asked. We had at least two more days of drilling before we'd free the final obstructions, unless we pushed harder than we already had.
"We do not feel it likely they would tip the balance of power in our favor," Jonathan said.
"We need to install your crystal into Gaylon Brighton's turret and another one like it, Liam," Sendrei cut in. "We're sitting ducks without them."
"I'm sending specifications for the crystal array we're manufacturing for the planetary weapon," Jonathan added. "It requires eight matched crystals. Is this possible for you to cut? We are not clear as to how you managed to cut the crystal you now carry so precisely."
"Two crystals for the turrets and eight new ones for the city's weapon," I said, repeating the order. "Jonathan, if you have time, can you manufacture a blaster attachment for the Popeyes that can use Iskstar?"
"Yes. It will require little adjustment given the already equipped weapons," Jonathan added. "I would remind you that there is little a mechanized infantry suit can do against the ships the Kroerak are bringing – even if it was equipped with an Iskstar crystal."
"I hear you, Jonathan, but you're just going to have to trust me on this," I said. "Hoffen out."
For a moment, we sat in the dark as the Piscivoru broke camp around us. Tabby handed me a meal bar and a water pouch. We ate in silence, lost in our own thoughts, when Tabby suddenly turned on me, narrowing her eyes as she crawled over to me and peered into my face.
"Why is it Sendrei doesn't have a crystal for either turre
t?" she asked, searching my glowing blue eyes. "We had one in there when we took down that Kroerak frigate. What happened to it?"
"I have it." I tried to sound nonchalant, but failed.
"Where?" she pushed.
I knew there was no getting out of the conversation, so I reached into my waist pocket and pulled out the crystal, as I had secretly done so many times before. Our eyes were drawn to the slowly pulsing blue crystal as it sat on the palm of my hand.
"You don't think that's weird?" Tabby asked. "This is more than a rock, you know. There has to be something sentient involved if it can drag your consciousness around like a toy on a string. Aren't you even a little worried how dangerous that is?"
"The Iskstar saved all our lives," I said. "It's trying to save them again."
"At what cost?" Tabby asked. "Why is it helping us?"
"I don't know. Why are we helping the Piscivoru?" I asked, defensively.
"Because we're dead if we don't," she said.
"Maybe the Iskstar wants the Kroerak gone, too," I said. "How's that any different?"
"It's different because we're putting our cards on the table," Tabby said. "We told the Piscivoru what we're up against and asked for their help. For frak sake, Liam, this thing has invaded your body and we don't even know what it is. What if it just wants to eat a little Liam kibble and it's willing to jump through some hoops to make that work?"
"Those are some pretty serious hoops," I said. "Right now, I think we have to assume the Iskstar is on our side and deal with what we know. The Kroerak are coming, Tabbs. The Iskstar has helped keep the Piscivoru alive and it pulled our bacon out of the fire. If we make it to the other side of the Kroerak, we'll deal with the Iskstar crystal."
"And then you'll stop carrying it around like it’s ‘the one ring to rule them all’?" she asked, her voice dissolving into a diabolical chuckle.
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Did you just drop a hobbit on me?" I asked.
"You're not the only one with access to twentieth-century fiction," she said. "Now, don't change the subject."
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