Then came a flurry of gasps and exclamations, and Caldin couldn’t stand the suspense any more. “What’s going on? Help me up.”
“I’m not done yet!” Terl hissed.
“You can finish treating my injuries in a moment,” she replied.
Corpsman Terl and Delayn helped her to her feet, and she planted her palms on the captain’s table, leaning heavily on it. She was just in time to watch on the grid as the Tauron collided with a monolithic Sythian cruiser. The Tauron disappeared inside a gaping hole in the side of the alien vessel, and for a long moment, nothing happened.
Caldin frowned, wondering if the two ships had actually hit each other after all.
Then a bright ribbon of fire shot out from the larger ship and it cracked in two flaming pieces. The fires died quickly as their oxygen ran out into space, leaving the massive halves of the enemy ship slowly drifting apart amidst a dark cloud of their own debris. The Tauron’s gravidar icon reappeared on the grid. She was also drifting through the cloud of debris, but barely moving, and her icon was dark—indicating that she was derelict, without power. Caldin zoomed in on the battleship until she could see not just an icon of the ship, but the ship itself. The Tauron’s front end was completely ruined, and her bridge had been scraped clean off, along with most of her guns. Even so, she was not yet completely destroyed. The core of the ship had survived.
“Comms!” Caldin called out in a weak voice. She swayed unsteadily on her feet, but forced herself to stay conscious. “Hail the admiral. I want to know if there any survivors.”
The comm officer didn’t reply.
“He’s dead, ma’am,” Delayn whispered. “Grimsby called the sentinels for help, but Adram’s men shot him for his trouble.”
Caldin turned to Delayn with an angry scowl, but her anger wasn’t directed at him. “Find me a replacement, then!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Delayn started off, staring idly at the captain’s table as he walked by. A moment later, however, Caldin saw him suddenly stop and gape at the grid.
“What?”
“The Sythians,” Delayn said. “They’ve stopped firing.”
Caldin turned to look, and now she noticed it, too. The entire Sythian armada with all its hundreds of encircling cruisers and thousands of swarming fighters had suddenly stopped shooting. Space was calm except for a few scattered shots from human ships that were late to realize their enemy had just surrendered en masse. For a moment Caldin thought the alien ships had stopped firing because the Tauron was no longer a threat, but that didn’t explain why they weren’t still shooting at the Valiant, or for that matter, at any of the handful of the admiral’s surviving transports and fighters.
“You think the Gors were telling the truth?” Delayn asked.
Caldin blinked and shook her head, unable to believe it. “I don’t know. . . .” But she couldn’t think of another explanation.
* * *
Brondi watched, dumbfounded with fascination as the admiral opened fire on empty space. Then, mere seconds later, he was even more dumbfounded to see a massive Sythian warship appear where the admiral had been firing. Now he understood what the admiral’s plan had been, but Hoff was skriffy if he’d thought that even together they could bring down such a massive ship. The Tauron had carved a big chunk out of the side of that cruiser, but Brondi had a feeling that now it was the Sythians’ turn to do some damage.
“Helm! How long before we can start spooling for a jump?”
“We still have to get clear of the enemy formation. A minute or two at most.”
“Good.”
“Where are we going?” Alara asked.
Brondi turned to her with a gaping smile and he chucked her chin with mock affection. “Somewhere safe, Sweet Thing. Don’t worry. Then you and I can find some time to be alone.”
Alara smiled at him and looped her arm through his. “That sounds good.”
Brondi unhooked his arm from hers and gave her a gentle shove. “Be patient,” he said, ignoring the look of hurt which crossed her face. “I need to focus,” he explained as he gazed down on the captain’s table. Real affection had always made him uneasy.
He watched the Tauron turn toward the giant Sythian warship, and his brow furrowed. “What are you thinking, Hoff?” Brondi wondered aloud. A cluster of Sythian missiles splashed across the Valiant’s viewports, eliciting a roar from her bridge speakers and shaking the deck underfoot. Loose objects rattled all over the bridge, and Alara screamed. She all but jumped into his arms, and Brondi shoved her away with a scowl. “For frek’s sake, Alara! Just . . .” Brondi smoothed a rigid hand over his slick black hair and tried to calm himself. “Keep your hands to yourself for a moment, Sweet Thing,” he said, smiling sarcastically. “Can you do that? We’re quite safe in here.”
“Okay . . .” she said quietly.
He turned back to the captain’s table just as the admiral’s flagship collided with its target. A gleeful giggle bubbled from his lips as he watched that. His eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped in a broad grin as the Sythian command ship split in two flaming halves and the Tauron appeared in the middle, her icon dark and derelict.
“Gravidar, enlarge the Tauron and put it on the main display. I want to see her in all her lovely brokenness.” A moment later, a magnified view of the battleship appeared on the main screen. She was dented and scoured beyond recognition. Her prow was completely mangled, and her decks gaped open in dozens of places. Not even a single viewport still glowed with light. The ship was unrecognizable.
Brondi was so distracted that for a moment he didn’t notice the sharp, ringing silence which had fallen across the bridge. He’d grown so used to the simulated roar of missiles exploding against their shields that the absence of those booming blasts was almost painful to listen to. A quick look at the captain’s table confirmed what his ears had already told him—the Sythians had stopped firing.
“The old skriff did it!” Brondi crowed. “Weapons! Stop firing! We don’t want to rile them up again.” Brondi turned to Alara for lack of anyone else to share the good news with. “Alara! The admiral did it!” he said, shaking his head wonderingly.
“That’s great . . .” Alara said, avoiding his gaze. She sounded strangely subdued.
Brondi offered her his best apologetic look. “You’re not mad at me are you, Sweet Thing? Because you know I just love you to bits. You’re my favorite girl. That’s why you’re going to celebrate with me after this is all over, instead of any of the others. I’ll be all yours, and you’ll be all mine, to do with as I please.”
“I can’t wait,” Alara said, still not looking at him.
Brondi frowned. He wasn’t used to feeling rejected by women, especially women he’d chipped to be willing companions, but he decided to ignore it for now. There were bigger issues to deal with. “Helm! Set course for that Sythian command cruiser. It’s time to find out why they’ve stopped shooting at us. While we’re at it, we can destroy what’s left of the Tauron.”
“Our trajectory is locked,” the navigator said. “We’re already spooling for our jump.”
“Re-set, it,” Brondi said. “What’s the frekking point of us running away if there’s nothing to run from anymore?”
“You’re going to attack the admiral?” Alara asked, holding a hand to her head and wincing, as if she had a bad headache.
“Never leave an enemy at your back—especially a wounded one. . . . what’s wrong with you?” he asked as she almost fell over.
“They just sacrificed themselves to save us,” Alara said, shaking her head as if to clear it.
“Don’t be silly, Sweet Thing. The only reason the old skriff did what he did was to save Dark Space—not us. We’re criminals, remember? He’d line us up and shoot us if he had the chance.” Brondi’s eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion, and he took a quick step toward her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and squeezed painfully hard. “Who’s side are you on?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “Don’t forget who took you in
and fed you, Alara. I clothed you and looked after you. I raised you. That makes you mine.”
Alara looked chagrined. She gazed down at her feet and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Brondi. Let me make it up to you.” Her big, beautiful violet eyes met his once more, and his expression softened.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll think of something you can do for me later.”
Alara nodded. “Okay.”
* * *
Reset. That was all Alara heard. It was all she needed to hear. The code word activated the interrupter which had been implanted during the time she’d been aboard the Defiant in order to fight her slave chip, and now she remembered everything; she knew who she was, and she knew who Brondi was. She also realized that Brondi had been calling her Alara rather than Angel for the past five minutes, and that was all the proof she needed.
She winced as her head began to pound, but she fought through the dizzying waves of pain, eventually calming herself enough to function.
“You’re going to attack them?” she asked.
“Never leave an enemy at your back. . . .”
The rest of what Brondi said was lost as Alara fought another lancing wave of pain and a sweaty rush of panic. She almost fell over.
“What’s wrong with you?” Brondi asked.
“They sacrificed themselves to save us . . .” she said.
“Don’t be silly, Sweet Thing . . .” She listened to the rest of his justification while swaying on her feet and blinking stupidly at him. He had done this to her. Ethan had tried to warn her. He . . . Ethan! Suddenly she remembered him saying goodbye, and all her doubt and uncertainty vanished on a wave of fury. Brondi had sent him out there in a nova fighter. It was unlikely that he had survived both battles.
Brondi took hold of her shoulders and shook her, asking whose side she was really on. “Don’t forget who took you in and fed you, Alara. . . .”
She listened as he reminded her of everything she supposedly owed him, but now she knew it was all a lie. Somehow she kept her ire from boiling over and had the presence of mind to hide what she was thinking.
“I’m sorry, Brondi,” she said, affecting an apologetic tone. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll think of something you can do for me later.”
“Okay,” Alara said, nodding. Meanwhile, she would think of something else she could do for him.
Chapter 33
Five minutes earlier . . .
Ethan insisted they return to bridge after Atton treated his injuries. He flatly refused to be put in stasis, even though some level of metabolic suspension might have been advisable with the amount of shrapnel still lurking beneath his skin.
“I’m not going to die in my sleep, Atton, so don’t even think about it.”
Atton helped him back to the bridge and both of them stopped in the entrance to stare at the massive bulk of the Sythian behemoth cruiser which lay before them. “Now that’s a battleship,” Ethan said, sitting down with a grunt of pain and leaning forward for a better look. Atton sat down in the copilot’s station beside Hoff, and they watched as a brilliant streak of fire leapt out of the damaged side of the alien cruiser.
“What was that?”
“That was the Tauron,” Hoff gritted out as a missile lock alarm screamed through the bridge speakers. A second later the corvette shook with a booming impact. “Damn it!”
“What do you mean that was the Tauron?” Atton asked. “They destroyed it?! Mom was on board!”
Hoff made a strangled sound, but didn’t reply. Ethan winced as a deep pang of sorrow lanced through him. That feeling was partly his, in memory of what he and Destra had once shared, and partly sympathy for Hoff. He reached out to squeeze the admiral’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose your wife.”
Hoff just shook his head. Suddenly Ethan realized he was comforting the admiral’s clone, rather than the admiral himself, and he withdrew his hand, feeling stupid.
A grim silence fell.
But then something new happened to distract them from their grief. “Hoi!” Ethan pointed. “Look!” As they looked on, the alien cruiser cracked in two. Flames roared out into space from both halves, and what was left of the Tauron emerged in the center of that brief inferno, looking charred and almost unrecognizable.
“They did it,” Atton whispered as he searched the grid. “And the Gors have stopped firing. They were telling the truth, Hoff. They really are just slaves.”
Hoff’s lips pressed into a thin, determined line. “We’ll see about that.”
“What are you going to do?” Ethan asked, his eyes narrowing.
“We’re going to go find the Sythians and have a chat with them.”
“Are you completely skriffy?” Atton replied. “They’re not going to chat with you! They’re going to kill you! Their ship is ruined, admiral. Just let it go, and let’s figure out what we’re going to do about Brondi.”
“There’s nothing to do about Brondi, Atton. We’ve saved Dark Space from the most immediate threat, but there’s no way to get on board that carrier now. Dark Space is Big Brainy’s to do with however he might please—at least until the next Sythian fleet arrives. As for chatting with the Sythians—help me get on board, and if I find out anything useful, you know where to look. The Tauron is ruined, but there are still parts of her that will have survived. Important parts. Find me there, and you’ll find your mother and Atta, too.”
“You think they hid?”
Hoff shook his head. “Unless the IMS was the very last system to fail, it doesn’t matter whether they hid or not. No one is still going to be alive on that ship. Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean we are dead. I make extensive backups of anything and everything that’s important. If you find me, I’ll help you bring your mother and your sister back.”
Atton’s jaw slowly dropped open as he understood what that meant. “You didn’t . . . that’s not the same, and you know it!”
“It could be the same, if you let it.”
Tears sprang to Atton’s eyes. “Whatever.” He gestured out the forward viewports. “It’s a one way trip, admiral. We’re just going to leave you inside and go.”
“That’s fine. I don’t expect you to wait.”
Atton snorted. “I guess we’ll catch up with you later.”
“What are you two talking about?” Ethan finally demanded, his gaze turning from Hoff to Atton. “How are we going to find him, or your mother and Atta if no one survived the collision?”
“It’s a long story,” Atton said.
“Well, start explaining!”
“All right, fine. You know Hoff cloned himself, and you might have guessed that he and his clone share both his personality and his memories.”
Ethan shook his head. “Actually I just thought being a skriff must run in the DNA, but go on. What else am I missing?”
“What do you know about the Immortals, Dad?”
“Not much . . . why?”
The explanation which followed went past the point of credulity and challenged everything Ethan thought he knew about human history. All the while, Hoff decelerated in preparation for boarding the alien command ship. Atton finished explaining just as Hoff reached the debris field. They maneuvered around chunks of the alien cruiser which were the size of small cruisers themselves before diving down into the exposed mess of broken decks and beams which blocked their entry into the front half of the behemoth. Ethan couldn’t see any opening large enough for their corvette to enter, but Hoff cruised slowly onward.
“Atton—would you take the controls? I need to go suit up.”
“What do you need me to do?” Atton asked as he rose to take Hoff’s place.
“Get close to one of those decks. Line up the rear hatch and wait until I tell you that I’m clear.”
“Those decks are exposed to space, Hoff.” Atton shook his head. “They’ll be sealed off from the rest of the ship. You’re not going to find a w
ay in.”
“Leave that to me,” Hoff said. “Just get me close.”
Ethan turned to watch the admiral leave. “So Destra is . . . going to be a clone now, too?”
“He must have found some way to chip her and Atta without them realizing.”
“Do you think it works?”
“No.”
Ethan’s gaze flicked out the port side of the bridge to find the dark, drifting ruin which had once been the Tauron. Neither he nor Atton said anything for the next five minutes while Atton got the corvette into position and held it there. They waited fully another minute until they heard Hoff’s voice crackle through the comm speakers—“I’m clear,” he said.
“Good luck, Admiral,” Atton replied in a sarcastic tone. With that, they roared away from the drifting ruins of the two ships.
“Now I need your help, Atton,” Ethan said slowly, watching as his son wove a path back through the debris.
“With what?”
“I need you to get me on board the Valiant.”
“What are you going to do—capture the whole ship by yourself?”
“Not the whole ship, no. Just one person.”
* * *
“Get alongside them!” Caldin ordered.
“Yes ma’am.”
What are you after, Brondi? she wondered as the Interloper came alongside the carrier and cruised past thousands of shining viewports. They were right under the crime lord’s nose, but still perfectly cloaked.
The Valiant slowed as it approached the broken halves of the Sythian command ship. It turned and presented its flank to the ruins of the Sythian ship, and the Interloper matched that maneuver. Then, all of a sudden, Caldin understood what Brondi was doing. He was going to finish off the alien command ship, but the Interloper lay in the path of at least a few dozen laser turrets, and with the cloak up and their shields disengaged, they’d be cracked open in seconds.
“Evasive action!” Caldin roared.
But what shot out from the side of the carrier wasn’t a volley of lasers and warheads. Instead, it launched wave after wave of troop transports and shuttles. Caldin’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Scratch that last order, Mr. Corr. “Aim for the nearest hangar bay! Full throttle. If ships are coming out, then we can fly in.”
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