by Glen Zipper
“Has anyone ever attempted this before?”
“Yes,” Viv answered him. “The UAS Jaipur tried it on a Kastazi Destroyer in the Second Battle of Gemini.”
“If I remember correctly, the Jaipur didn’t survive the Battle of Gemini.”
“Neither did the Kastazi Destroyer.”
“Wonderful.”
“The Jaipur was a fine ship, but she was no California,” I noted. “We’re going to survive this.”
Steeling myself, I heard my father’s voice again invade my thoughts, cautioning me against what came after fear.
And then you will feel invincible . . . Feeling invincible can be even more dangerous than feeling afraid.
“Ohno, forward grids status?”
“Eighty-five percent and rising.”
“Go, no go for full propulsion?”
“Go for full propulsion,” she answered, her bio-reactive tattoos peacocking in an effulgent array of bright colors.
“Viv, propulsion on full on my mark.”
“Aye, standing by.”
“Nick, please change our course to Alpha One Two Seven.”
“Aye. Entering course to Alpha One Two Seven.”
Nick’s console chimed three times in confirmation of the course correction.
“And full propulsion in three, two, one . . . mark!”
Viv gunned the engines, and within seconds every proximity alarm on the bridge rang out. Alpha One Two Seven was a complete course reversal. Instead of running away from the Kastazi, the California was hurtling right at them. We were fully committed. There was no turning back.
CHAPTER 25
VIV
A VISCERAL TENSION PERMEATED THE BRIDGE AS I eased the throttle forward.
“Two minutes to visual contact,” Nick reported.
“Steady ahead,” JD replied, standing behind my station. “Activate targeting.”
“Aye. Targeting active,” Julian confirmed.
“Forward grids status?”
“Ninety-one percent,” Ohno replied.
JD sat and ran some calculations on his console, returning a sharp warning tone. The math must not have added up. Ohno instantly understood its implication.
“Rerouting all available emergency power to grids,” she said. “I’ll get us to ninety-seven in thirty seconds.”
I didn’t know which systems she was accessing, but she was definitely pulling from more than just emergency power—likely life support and grav stabilization.
“Visual contact with the Destroyer,” announced Nick.
It looked like a tiny speck. Just another star, slightly brighter than the rest.
The knot in my stomach returned, wrenching itself into a new configuration of nervous agony.
This is insane.
This is just absolutely—
“Time to intercept?” JD called out, interrupting my thought spiral.
“Sixty seconds,” Nick called back.
The Destroyer drew closer, its brutal features coming into soft focus.
“Grids?”
“Ninety-nine percent,” Ohno reported.
“Lock targeting on the Kastazi vessel.”
“Targeting locked and standing by,” Julian confirmed.
“Emergency harnesses, everyone,” JD hollered.
We pulled our emergency harnesses up from behind our seats and strapped them over our shoulders.
The Destroyer launched two flaming daggers of plasma at us.
JD had just enough time to hit the shipwide com. “All hands brace for impact!”
The energy bursts rocked the California with a thunderous wallop.
“Grids down to ninety-four percent,” Ohno shouted.
Proximity alarms rang out all over the bridge.
“Fifteen seconds!” Nick exclaimed.
“This is it!” JD shouted.
He waited a fraction of an instant before he gave the command we had all been dreading.
“Ramming speed!”
The moment was finally upon us. Stomach acid burned my throat as I slammed the throttle all the way forward to max propulsion.
The Destroyer tried to evade us, but it was too late.
Crash!
I felt my left shoulder dislocate as the bow of the California plowed directly into the Kastazi vessel’s center mass. With my senses bombarded by the sight of ignited debris and the sound of two irresistible forces colliding, the intense pain in my arm escalated, producing an intense wave of nausea.
An alert sounded from the California’s sensors.
“Their grids are down!” Bix shouted.
“Fire probe,” JD ordered.
“Aye. Probe away,” Julian confirmed.
The harmless-looking sphere sailed right into the ragged, gaping hole we had ripped open in the middle of the Destroyer’s belly.
“Detonate probe.”
“Detonating.”
All we saw was a muted flash. The probe didn’t work. It was an absolute dud.
I had never actually allowed myself to believe we would fail. Our plan was going to work. It was going to work because it had to.
But it didn’t.
And all I was left with was a single, solemn thought.
It’s not supposed to end this way.
Unhooking my harness, I turned to face JD. I didn’t know why. Perhaps to say goodbye. That’s when I saw the reflection in his eyes. A series of cascading explosions. I whirled back around just in time to see the Kastazi predator violently convulsing in a cauldron of its own fire. A few seconds later, it exploded into a billion tiny pieces.
Unable to contain our emotion, we burst into euphoric cheers. JD pulled up shipwide vitals. The board was mostly green. A few yellows. No reds.
JD hit his com. “Medical, report.”
There was no reply.
JD leaned in to his console. “Toly, talk to me.”
The com crackled to life. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Shipwide vitals appear steady and unremarkable.”
JD noticed me nursing my shoulder. “Excellent. Sweep the decks for injuries, and then get yourself up here.”
“Aye.”
Another proximity alarm rang out before we could even consider what to do next.
JD turned to Bix. “Report.”
Bix didn’t respond. Instead, he just stared ahead, looking stunned.
“Report!”
“Five,” Bix answered, eyes still vacant.
“Five?”
“Five more vessels on an intercept course with the California.”
“Kastazi or Alliance?”
“I can’t tell. They’re too far away for me to analyze their energy signatures.”
JD glanced at Nick. Nick returned a confirming nod.
“What was that?” I asked.
“It’s the Kastazi. He can feel them.”
He can feel them?
“How long?” I said.
“Approximately two hours,” Bix responded.
Two hours. We barely survived one Kastazi ship. There was no way we were going to survive five.
“The reactor. What’s it going to take for you to get it operational?”
“More than two hours.”
“How much more?” I asked.
“Three. Three and a half hours minimum, presuming I can get it to work at all.”
JD stood. “You’ll find a way. Take Nick down to the reactor and get started.”
Yet another alert sounded.
Now what?
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ohno moaned.
“Incoming com on the Alliance secure band. The transmission is corrupted, but there’s sufficient data. I can try to throw it up on the Holoview,” Nick said.
“Do it.”
Beneath a layer of interference stood Captain Marshall. His image brought with it something that had been desperately absent. Hope.
An incredible sense of relief instantly came over me.
Having survived as long as we had was remarkable. Our oblit
erating a Kastazi Destroyer without weapons was almost inconceivable. In a crisis we had executed on all of our training beyond all reasonable expectation—but we were still just cadets. Whatever new war the Kastazi had brought upon us, it required soldiers, like Captain Marshall and my mother.
Not us.
Not yet.
JD jumped to his feet. “Dad! Where are you? I can hold our position until you’re able to—”
But Captain Marshall talked right over him. This wasn’t a live com. It was a recording.
“Ensign Gentry, this is a confirmed Priority One Emergency message. By the time you receive it, I and everyone aboard Gallipoli will already be dead.”
JD staggered backward, falling down into the captain’s chair. Tears spilled from his eyes. I ran to his side, intense pain surging through my arm.
Fighting back my own tears, I wasn’t prepared to believe it yet. Maybe Alliance reinforcements had arrived before it was too late. Captain Marshall could have survived. My mother could’ve made it too.
“A second wave of Kastazi invasion has begun,” the recording continued. “Their technology has advanced beyond anything we’ve ever seen. Earth is under siege and all contact with Alliance High Command has been lost.”
They were already taking Earth. It was the worst-case scenario.
“If you are receiving this message, it means you were able to escape the Destroyer that attacked Gallipoli. Well done, Gentry.”
If only he knew it was us.
“Be advised that our sensors are showing at least five additional Kastazi vessels in the immediate sector. Engaging these hostiles will be futile. If you have not done so already, you are to engage the Blink Reactor to retreat the California into the Outer Perimeter. Do not attempt to return to Earth unless and until you receive a confirmed order from Alliance High Command.”
The message flickered as everything around Captain Marshall shook, the obvious result of Gallipoli taking yet another hard blow. He steadied himself and concluded his message not as a captain, but as a father.
“Evan, if you are able, please show the rest of this message to our children.”
He paused.
“John Douglas. I’m sorry I never got a chance to tell you everything I wanted to. But the most important thing I could tell you, you already know. You’re destined for something special, something more.”
That was it. No final statement of affection. No goodbye. As soon as he stepped away, someone else took his place. My mother. She was crying. My whole life, I had never seen her cry. Not even during the war.
Whatever strength I had been using to keep myself together completely abandoned me, and my tears finally escaped. In a moment I went from a woman summoning every ounce of her courage to a frightened girl who just wanted her mother.
“Vivien. My sweet Vivien. You have everything you need to survive. Be strong, be a leader, and know that I love you very much. Whatever happens, never give up. Keep fighting no matter what it takes. Find strength in my memory. I’ll always be with—”
And then she was gone, replaced with nothing but static.
CHAPTER 26
NICHOLAS
STANDING OPPOSITE THE BLINK REACTOR—AN IMPOSING BLACK monolithic rectangle standing fifteen by seven meters—unnerved me. I wondered how much intention Dr. Fuller had applied to its outward design. He had made no effort to soften its appearance, or to forge an illusion of sameness with its creator, as he had done with Hybrids like me. Perhaps he simply wished there to be no confusion about its purpose—to perfunctorily carry out its functions upon the command of its human masters.
Now that my truth had been revealed, it seemed as though everyone had taken to thinking the same thing of me: that despite my sophisticated design, I was little more than a lifeless contraption, existing only to carry out their will. And worse yet, that the absence of my own free will had left me exposed to corruption by their enemy.
Despite their lack of faith in me, I continued to help them. They likely viewed my cooperation as the preordained acquiescence of an automaton. But it was a choice. My choice.
“That hurt?” Bix asked, carefully feeding a needle into my forearm as JD and Viv observed from a few meters away.
His concern I might feel pain gave me some solace. It meant he at least entertained the possibility I existed as something more than the manifestation of their worst fears and presumptions.
“No,” I answered. There was never exactly pain. Only feedback.
A long wire lead was attached to the needle, its other end connected to an input port on the reactor. The lights on its control board began blinking chaotically in no particular sequence.
“Those lights—what does that mean?” JD asked.
“It means there’s a connection,” Bix replied. “But don’t thank me yet. There’s still no interface.”
Viv massaged the bump in her neck where Anatoly had implanted a pain-killing nanocapsule. “Your finger’s on the button, right?” she asked JD.
Obviously placating her, JD held up the command module Bix had loaded my kill trigger onto.
“There will be no need for that,” I assured her.
“We’ll see,” she replied.
“What does it feel like?” Bix asked. Unlike Viv, he no longer appeared afraid, his concern having ceded to his scientific curiosity. “Is anything happening?”
Something was indeed happening. The moment the needle entered my arm, I felt myself join with an inconceivable power, boundless in scope. There was no reference point for it in nature.
The link also merged me with vast volumes of data, and within the data lived a truth I never would have imagined. It was remarkable, yet far too dangerous to reveal. Doing so risked initiating a chain of events that could’ve threatened our very existence.
“No, nothing yet,” I responded. I thought that was a less problematic response than “You’re not ready to know.” “How is your shoulder, Vivien?”
“Do you think you’re going to be able to make it work?” she asked Bix, ignoring me.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The problem is his autonomic registry protocols are firewalled and—”
“Layman’s terms, Bix. Layman’s terms,” JD cut in.
Bix stretched his neck, searching for one of his more easily understood metaphors. “All right, basically what I’m doing right now is trying to open a door. Opening the door is step one. The answer to whether or not I can make the interface work is on the other side of that door.”
“Fine. How long until you can open the door?”
“Same estimate. Three, three and a half hours. From there I’ll know what’s possible pretty quickly.”
“I need you to do better than that!” JD snapped.
“We’re attempting something that has never been done before,” Bix groused, his anxious eyes dancing back and forth. “Something that was never intended to be done at all.”
JD handed the command module to him. “I’m sorry. I know you’re doing the best you can. We’ll find a way to get you more time.”
“How?” Viv asked.
JD hesitated before responding. Finally, he said, “Come with me.”
JD exited with Viv before Bix could utter another word. I watched him stare at the doorway, as if half expecting them to come back. When they didn’t, he dropped his head, forlorn by the weight of the responsibility they had left resting solely on his shoulders.
“Everything will be okay,” I said.
Bix looked deeply into my eyes. “Why?”
Trying to explain why was futile. Without connecting with Fuller’s creation himself, there was no way for him to fathom its divine superintendence. You had to touch the possibilities in order to comprehend them.
There was one other thing I could have said, but chose not to. Telling him the reactor never would have existed without him would likely have been both incomprehensible and terrifying. And it also would have conveyed an incomplete understanding of the truth.
&
nbsp; So, instead, I simply offered him the honest sentiment of a friend.
“Everything will be okay because I know exactly what you’re capable of.”
CHAPTER 27
VIV
MY EYES STAYED FOCUSED ON JD’S SHOULDERS as he walked in front of me down the undamaged port side of Gamma Deck. His stride held deliberate purpose. It was clear he knew where he was going and what he needed to do.
“Why won’t you just tell me?” I asked a second time.
“Because it’s going to be an argument, and we don’t have time for one.”
Turning the corner toward Junction 5, it finally all came together for me. He was headed for the brig.
I was in no mood for his my plan, my way, put a complaint in the suggestion box later if you don’t like it routine. Not today of all days.
“Stop!” I demanded.
JD kept walking.
“JD, stop!”
Halting, he turned to face me.
As soon as our eyes connected, I knew. He didn’t have to say a word.
“It’s the only way,” he said, realizing I had put two and two together.
An all-too-familiar frustration rose up in me. As far as he was concerned, any idea I might think of he had already considered and dismissed.
“There’s never only one way,” I countered. “Think back to our training. Everything we’ve ever learned is about finding solutions when everyone else thinks there are no solutions left.”
JD stared back at me, his jaw pulsating from angrily grinding his teeth.
Finally, he spoke. “How many other solutions were there for escaping Gallipoli? Did you have any ideas other than using a debris charge to ignite our plasma vent? What about dropping the hostile’s grids? Did you or anyone else have another solution for that? Because if you did, I would’ve loved to hear about any plan that didn’t involve the California T-boning a Kastazi Destroyer.”
“That’s not fair. We were in a crisis and—”
“We’re still in a crisis!” he shouted, cutting me off. “And yes, we’re the ones who find solutions when no one else can. But sometimes there’s only one solution. One chance. And you have to take it.”
I wasn’t going to give in. This plan of his was different. It meant he was going to die.