Ion Trail 26: Aftermath

It was a good thing I hadn’t asked about my ship while I was still strapped to the bed because I might have done myself an injury. Lorna had come by later that night, after Shanna had fallen asleep in her seat, to check on me and unfasten the straps. We’d sat and talked for a while, first detailing the various crew injuries, talking about how Sister Estrada was doing, but after a while just talking.

“So you’ve been helping with the injuries aboard-station?” I asked. She smiled wearily.

“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “They need all the help they can get. The black ship attacked out of nowhere, and there were a lot of injuries before people could get to safe zones.” She rubbed at her temples and leaned back in her seat to stare at the ceiling. “A lot of casualties, too; mostly burns and vacuum related, but they also lost three mining haulers that were out of the station, with all crewmembers.” I winced and closed my eyes; those deaths were on me.

“How is the recovery going?”

“Well enough,” she answered. “They’ve contained all of the breaches and are working on sealing them; luckily they have a lot of raw materials on-hand. It’ll probably be another day before relief vessels and TU combat frigates arrive to provide support, but for now, things are going as well as can be expected.”

“What about the Hostile Witness?” I asked, fearing the worst.

“Still out there,” she replied. “They haven’t been able to repair any of the star docks sufficiently to haul it in yet.”

“What?” I sat straight up in the hospital bed, outraged.

“Easy, easy,” she replied, lifting her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s tethered to the station, so it’s not going anywhere. Diaz tells me that they’ve offered to perform all of the necessary repairs free of charge, as soon as their facilities are up and working again.”

“Oh.” I relaxed back into the bed, mollified but still feeling more than a little guilty. “I’m sure we can cover our own repair expenses,” I added.

“I’m not sure we can,” she replied. “At least, Shanna and Diaz aren’t, anyway. The damage is pretty extensive. Shanna said the only saving grace is that we didn’t have any cargo in the hold.” She shifted in her seat, and I took a moment to study the woman; like Shanna, her eyes were heavily bloodshot, apparently a side-effect of the partial depressurization the Hostile Witness had suffered before the rescue shuttle had gotten everyone off the ship, though Shanna was worse off than most, since she’d been near the cargo bay when we were hit. Lorna also looked like she hadn’t slept since we’d arrived.

“Well, I guess we’ll figure that out tomorrow,” I said. “For now, why don’t you get some rest? You’ve been talking to me for an hour already, and I doubt you’ve taken much time for yourself otherwise.”

“I probably should,” she agreed, though it was obvious she was reluctant.

“I can make it an order, if that helps,” I offered. She smiled and shook her head.

“No, that’s fine,” she demurred and stood up, stretching. “I’m just going to use this other bed, if you don’t mind. They wanted you to have your own room, but beds are hard to come by right now.”

“Please,” I said. She moved quietly through the room to the other bed, and was soon fast asleep.

I, on the other hand, was wide awake and remained so until the morning when another medic came to check on me. By that time, I’d had enough of lying around and against her advice insisted on getting up; the gash on my forehead, which apparently had taken a good dozen sutures, was the worst of my injuries and I was ready to move. Reluctantly she relented, especially when Diaz came in to check on me; she told him that he was responsible for ensuring I didn’t overdo it, then finally subsided.

At my request, Diaz took me to the nearest place I could look out of the station to show me my ship. It had several polycarbon cables lashing it haphazardly to the side of the station, but looked little worse for the wear until you got to the aft section. Though the ion drive thrusters were intact, the cargo ramp and surrounding hull areas were crumpled and burnt; it looked like we’d taken a direct plasma shot. I ached just looking at it.

“She’ll be fine, Captain,” Diaz assured me. “They said that they should be able to haul her in to one of the star docks in a day’s time and they’ll be better able to assess the damage then.”

“But you don’t think we can cover the costs?” I asked.

“Shanna doesn’t,” he replied, “but it’s okay. The Forge is insisting on covering all repair costs, and said Volcon may also want to offer a bonus for our troubles.”

“We don’t need any of that,” I protested, guilt spiking my guts. “They don’t owe us anything.” Diaz looked at me, surprised, but after a moment his bloodshot eyes took on a knowing look.

“You feel responsible for the attack,” he guessed.

“Of course I’m responsible for the attack!” I said, wheeling from the window to face him. “I went poking my nose where it didn’t belong, and led them straight back here!”

“Maybe we did,” Diaz said with a subtle emphasis on ‘we’, though his face didn’t indicate that this was agreement. “But the black ships have hit two other stations within three days travel from here, and none of them have survived.” He shook his head. “It was only a matter of time before they came here anyway, but this time there are a few thousand survivors, and the station is still operational.”

“But…” I trailed off, remembering the station in flames, imagining all the lifeless bodies floating in space, like there had been back at Kestrel.

“But nothing, Susan,” he said. “You know I’m right. We were probably sent to check out that star system because it was a suspected staging point for the attacks in this region.” I looked at him, helplessly. I wanted to argue, but I really didn’t have anything to say.

“When did you get so smart?” I asked instead. He laughed, though it wasn’t a happy sound.

“It’s not me,” he replied. “I’ve just been in meetings with the station manager almost the whole time since we arrived and I’m repeating what she told me. At first I thought this was our fault, too.” He ducked his head, a flash of remorse crossing his fine features. I sighed and turned back to the window to stare at my broken, abandoned ship. Diaz moved up beside me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I leaned into him, taking comfort from his understanding.

=+=

The Forge was true to their word, and by the next day they were hauling the Hostile Witness into one of the first restored star docks. Restored was a bit of a generous description, but there was a space big enough for my ship and there was oxygen to breathe. It’d do for now. Once the technicians were done getting it into place, we went inside to survey the damage.

The cargo bay was a complete wreck, obviously, and the last pair of constructed rooms was as well; one of those was Janice’s, the other was Melva’s. Janice had been in her room during the fight, but she’d hidden under her bunk with the datasphere filter terminal she’d built; when the room had collapsed she’d been trapped until Clinton had gotten her out, but she’d mostly been okay. Melva hadn’t been so lucky. She’d been sitting at the desk in her room praying, as she did whenever there was trouble, when we took the plasma blast.  She’d been thrown to the floor and knocked unconscious, suffering several other lacerations and the sprain in the process.

Shanna’s room, nearer the front, had been fine, but unlike the others she’d not been in her room. She had been going to check in with Clinton, to see if there was anything she could do to help. When we were hit, she’d been in the hallway outside the cargo bay, so was thrown around by the explosive depressurization; luckily some of the loose plasteel sheets in the cargo bay had partially obstructed the breach, or it’s likely none of us would have survived. She’d also lost her commlink in the commotion, which was why she hadn’t responded when I’d called for a report. Aside from the cargo bay, several systems positioned nearby had been damaged by shrapnel and power surges; that’s what had happened to the atmo scrubbers.

The forward cabins were intact, though personal belongings were scattered all over. The galley was a complete disaster; though it had been designed with the potential for gravity loss in mind, the designers hadn’t planned on this ship ever being in combat. The engine room was mostly intact, though apparently there’d been a fireball when the power surged. Clinton had gotten second-degree burns on one arm and Omar had lost half of his beard and an eyebrow, but there was no other significant damage in there. The cockpit was also fine, although there was an alarming amount of blood all over the console. If I hadn’t known it was my own blood, I’d have thought someone had been murdered there. I didn’t linger. The station technicians who’d accompanied us `took very thorough notes, and told me that they’d let me know as soon as they’d finished their damage assessment.

Later that day the skies outside of the station began to fill with ships. A Terran Union capital ship was the first arrival, with an escort of no less than five frigates, a destroyer and half a dozen smaller gunships. Shortly after, a TU medical frigate arrived and set up a field hospital on The Forge’s small concourse, and TU doctors and nurses took over for the overwhelmed station clinic. Maybe an hour after that, I received a summons to the station manager’s office.

“Captain Rickard,” the rotund woman levered herself to her feet when we arrived, coming to meet me with an outstretched hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet before now. I wanted to thank you personally.”

“Quite alright,” I answered, nonplussed. Sitting at one of the chairs arranged in a semi-circle in front of an oversized desk was an elder gentleman in the dark grey of TU service uniform. He rose when the station manager brought Diaz and me over to the chairs and I saw his rank was Captain; quite a bit higher up than me, where Captain was more of a title than a rank. Likely he was the commander of the battle group that had just arrived.

“Captain Rickard,” he echoed with no trace of irony and inclined his head by way of greeting, remaining standing until we’d all seated ourselves. “I understand that you’re something of a hero.”

“Fuck that,” I blurted out, eyes widening. “I mean, no, I’m no hero.” His only reaction to my obscenity was a small twitch of the lips.

“The station manager has led me to believe that without your intervention, I’d be here investigating the wreckage of this station rather than having this nice sit down.” One bushy eyebrow lifted sharply. “Are you saying that this is not so?”

“Um, I mean,” I stammered. “I guess I helped, but the station did most of the damage. I just kept them busy.”

“And provided the means of allowing us to target the black ship,” the station manager added. I shot her a dirty look, and she blinked in surprise at me; I gave her an apologetic grimace and shook my head.

“Look,” I said. “My ship is probably the reason the ship showed up here when it did. Even if it might have come here eventually,” I added, glancing at Diaz, “I couldn’t just run without trying to help.”

“And yet most small freighters, especially as lightly armed and shielded as yours, would have done just that. It’s the smart play and no one could have blamed you.” The Captain leaned toward me, drawing his eyebrows down sternly. “You did not; you chose to stay and fight at considerable personal risk.”

“Alright, fine,” I grumbled. “What do you want from me?”

“I’d like you to stop arguing with me, for a start,” he answered, sitting back up and taking on a more neutral tone. “There are more important matters to discuss.” I was immediately on guard.

“Such as?” I asked warily.

“I understand that you had a survey mission in TDG-14526-D, where you encountered the ship that attacked the station.”

“It might have been the same ship,” I corrected. “It was big and it was black, that’s all I can say for sure.”

“May I ask who hired you for this survey mission?” he inquired. “The registry indicates that the star system has little in the way of natural resources to offer.”

“It’s not my policy to discuss my business arrangements with outside parties,” I replied, trying hard to keep the hostility out of my voice. Something about this guy was getting under my skin, more than just being TU.

“Of course,” he answered smoothly, “but these are hardly usual circumstances. Surely your employer would not object to you complying with an official investigation.”

“I wouldn’t care to guess what my employer would or wouldn’t object to,” I replied. “An incorrect assumption could destroy my reputation and if you know anything about my business, reputation is everything.” I added, “I would be happy to communicate with my employer and inform them of your request.”

“Of course,” he said, unflappable. “On another note, you were recently at Terra Primus, unless I‘ve been misinformed.”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, nervously.

“I’d like to formally request that, should you decide you’d like to speak to me, that you simply ask, rather than dumping any bodies.” With that he stood, while the station manager and I both gaped at him. “I shall be returning to my ship to help coordinate recovery operations. Station master, should you require anything, you have my direct line.” He glanced at me as he said this, letting his gaze linger a moment. “If you’ll excuse me.” With that, he was gone.

“You, uh, dumped a body?” the station manager said to me after he was gone. I glared after the Captain angrily then sighed, turning to look at the station master with a wry smile.

“Let’s just say that I’m not a fan of bureaucrats.”

“Okay,” she said, taking a moment to process this. “Well, I’d like to echo the Captain’s request to just ask, if you need anything.”

“Deal,” I laughed, feeling the tension break. “Was that meeting why I was called here?”

“Not entirely,” she said. “I wanted to speak to you myself, but Captain Haver asked me to call for you now, so that he’d be able to meet you as well.”

“Hell of an ambush,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. What did you want to see me about?”

“Oh, right,” she flipped through a few sheets of plas on the table in front of her, then pulled one from the pile. “Your first mate has hopefully already told you that I insist on covering all repairs for damage sustained in defense of The Forge.” She paused, and I indicated that he had. “Well, Volcon would also like to offer further compensation. This is a letter from Kristina Shannon at the Bekter’s Rim office.” She handed me the sheet of plas and I read it to myself, frowning. I felt Diaz leaning over to peer at it, so I handed it to him once I was done.

“I don’t think we can accept this,” I said.

“Kris warned me that you might not,” she replied. “Listen, you’ve saved thousands of lives,” she raised a hand to ward off my protest. “Whether or not you believe it, I believe it, and so does most of my staff. For that alone, we owe you more than we can repay. But on top of that, you’ve saved Volcon billions of credits. If they thought you’d accept, they’d ensure you could retire moderately wealthy, right now.” She leaned forward, staring into my face earnestly. “Volcon is big business; no one is ever going to say otherwise. But we started out as a family business. Kris is my baby sister, and my dad retired as foreman here five years ago, before I took over as station manager. We understand loyalty, and taking care of your friends and family. I think you do too. You risked your own life and those of your crew to take care of someone else. Whether or not you ever sign a contract, after this day, Volcon will always consider you part of the family.”

I leaned back in my seat, stunned and more touched than I would have expected. I exchanged a look with Diaz; it was harder to read his expression with his eyes bloody and tired, but he looked as surprised as I felt.

“Just in case you’re interested,” the station master added, breaking the silence, “Kris also sent an updated copy of the contract she offered you back at Bekter’s Rim; told me to tell you that corporate is willing to negotiate further if it’s still not sufficient, but that it’s non-exclusive, so whatever other understandings you have may remain in place.”

“Listen,” I said, collecting my thoughts. “Uh, can I ask your name?”

“Carol,” she said, reaching across the table to clasp my hand again. “Carol Arnold, formerly Shannon. Honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the offered hand for a firm shake. “Listen Carol, I am flattered beyond words, and tempted more than you could know.” This time I really was; a non-exclusive contract, with even better terms than the last? That was literally unheard of. “But the truth that I couldn’t bring myself to tell Kristina is that I’m just not a company woman, though it sounds like Volcon would be a hell of a company to work for. If it will allow us to still be friends, I’ll gratefully take the offered compensation, but I just can’t sign a long-term contract.”

“Lady, you could knock me on my ass and spit in my drink and I’d still consider you a friend, but I can respect your stance.” I laughed out loud at that image; I was pretty sure I couldn’t knock her on her ass, even if she’d stood there and let me.

“Are you sure Kristina is your sister?” I asked her.

“Oh yeah,” she chuckled. “She took after mom though, and she went to business school. I was always more like dad, though.” She shoved herself out of her seat, and made her way around the table. I rose as well, with Diaz right behind me. “Listen, you need anything while you’re aboard, you just let me know, and it’s yours.”

“I will,” I said, as she showed us to the door. “And thank you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, earnestly, then she turned to Diaz, as we got to the door. “You’re awfully quiet today, handsome. You were a lot more of a chatterbox yesterday, talking up your crew and your Captain and all” I glanced at him, and he looked embarrassed. She winked at him and opened the door. “Don’t be strangers!”

“What was that about?” I asked him as the door closed behind us.

“Just being friendly,” he replied, the color in his cheeks rising. “You know me, always talking to people.”

“Uh huh,” I said, warming to the challenge of getting him to talk when I noticed a uniformed soldier down the hall, watching us. He turned away when he saw me look at him, but there’d been no mistaking that he was watching. Any sense of playfulness evaporated. Diaz looked where I was when he noticed my demeanor change.

“What’s up?” he said, suddenly tense.

“Come on,” I said, not answering his question. “We need to get back to the crew.”

Ion Trail 25: Combat Math

It took some time to piece together everything that had happened during those frantic final minutes before the jump. It turned out that Clinton had shut down the stealth field and reactivated the shields as soon as Diaz had reported the cannon charging, though they’d barely been enough to withstand the hit. Diaz had fired back- the buzzing sound I’d heard- which had apparently caused the pursuing ship to falter for a few seconds.

“And you were doing what now?” Omar asked incredulously. The crew was gathered in the galley for the debrief, even those who hadn’t had any direct involvement.

“I was finishing calculations for the Jump,” I explained, feeling defensive. “We weren’t going to survive trying to go toe-to-toe with that ship.

“Wait,” Shanna interrupted with a wide-eyed grin. “So we’re under attack by a ship at least twice our size and you’re up there in the cockpit doing math?”

“Combat math!” I protested amidst a chorus of laughter. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Lorna said with a placating smile. I looked from her around at the rest of the group, and only Sister Estrada was making any effort to hide her smile.

“You guys suck,” I complained sulkily. Combat math. I couldn’t help it; my scowl cracked and I found myself smiling, too. “Anyway, it worked didn’t it?”

“Either that or it didn’t, and this is the afterlife,” Shanna said. “Could be worse, if it were.” She winked at me and I blushed, looking down at my empty coffee mug.

“Best to probably assume we made it,” I replied with my best poker face. “Until we have reason to believe otherwise.” I cleared my throat and dared to look around at everyone; fortunately no one seemed to have noticed anything. “We’ve got a few hours until we’re back to The Forge and once we’re there, I want the recordings packaged up and sent back to Terra Primus as soon as possible.” I looked at Janice as I said that and she nodded.

“Any chance they’d follow us?” Diaz asked.

“No,” I answered, then thought again. “Well, possibly? There’s nothing closer, but there are a lot of other stations and bases within a day or two of TDG-14526-D, so there’s no special reason they’d assume we were coming from The Forge. Unless they can somehow track us without a transponder.” That thought gave me a shiver; it wouldn’t be the first advanced tech we’d seen from the black ships, after all. “Anyway, it’s unlikely, but we’ll make sure to drop out combat ready, just in case.” I swatted the table with both hands and stood up. “Alright, we’ve got a few hours, but I want everyone in their normal places by D-minus thirty minutes.” I turned to go, leaving everyone else to disperse as they chose. I was debating whether I wanted to go take a nap or catch up on some of my updated shows.

“Captain,” I heard and turned. Janice was cutting through the group to catch up with me.

“Yes?” I responded.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you about something you mentioned,” she said, unusually reticent. I waited. “You were talking about how the navcomputer wasn’t quite up to handling the calculations by itself?”

“Oh, are we going to see who can do the nav calculations faster, you or me? You want to do this now?” I raised an eyebrow and rested a fist on one hip, and put on my very best ‘come at me’ expression.

“No,” she scowled. “That’s stupid.” She waved it off before I could retort. “No, I wanted to see if I could take a look at the navcomputer. It’s possible I could upgrade it a little bit, if I got a look at how it works.”

“I, uh,” I paused to shift gears, my mind still in banter mode. “You could do that?”

“Maybe,” she qualified. “I’d need to get a look at the hardware, and see what kind of software it’s running, too. Probably can’t do anything until we’re back in star dock for a few days anyway, but I wanted to at least ask.”

“Yeah, okay. If you can do anything to improve performance, I wouldn’t mind at all,” I agreed. “Though even if you can’t, I may look into another upgrade anyway, if we’re going to keep getting into scrapes like this.”

“Are we?” Janice looked at me seriously; I couldn’t tell which answer she hoped to hear.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Probably, though not because I intend to keep trying. I’m not a combat pilot, and this isn’t a ship of war.”

“But we have to do something,” she said, finishing the thought; it wasn’t a question. She nodded to herself as she turned away. Unenthusiastically I decided that I’d skip the both nap and the show and instead drop in to the message boards I’d been lurking in, to do some more reading before it was time to drop out.

=+=

We dropped into a war zone.

At least, that’s what it looked like at first glance. The station was on fire at several points, which meant it was venting atmosphere like crazy, and I saw it firing kinetics and beams before I saw the target. It was hard to make out, but it easily could have been the same ship we saw in TDG-14526-D. Somehow it’d known or guessed where we were going.

“I thought you said this was unlikely!” Diaz yelled across the commlink.

“I know!” I said, still trying to quickly assess the situation. I saw a flicker of shields as the black ship took a hit from one of the station beams, but several others missed. It didn’t look good for the station at all. I hailed them.

“Forge Traffic Control, this is Hostile Witness,” I said. “Is there any way we can assist?”

“Hostile Witness, are you armed?” the traffic controller’s voice held an edge of panic, but he was keeping it together.

“Lightly armed, kinetics only,” I responded.

“We cannot pin it down, and our missiles cannot lock,” the controller replied. “If you can slow it down, we may be able to mass fires.”

“I was hoping you’d say ‘no’, but I’ll do what I can,” I replied grimly. I switched to the intercom. “All crew, The Forge is under attack by a single ship, possibly the one we tangled with. We’re going to render assistance.” I pushed the throttle to full.

“We’re fighting?” Clinton’s voice was surprised.

“We’re probably the reason the ship is here,” I answered. “While we could jump straight back to where we came from, we’d be leaving everyone here to die if we did.”

“Copy,” he said. “May I make a risky suggestion?”

“Wait one,” I replied. “Diaz, I want you ready to fire as soon as we get in range. If we can surprise it, maybe it’ll slow down enough for the station to land some solid hits, got it?” I didn’t wait for a response before going back to Clinton. “As long as it’s not going to get us dead sooner, I’m all ears.” I adjusted our course to keep the black ship dead ahead.

“If we turn off the atmo scrubbers and internal gravity, we should be able to bring the shields up to full. So long as everyone’s secure, we won’t need them during the fight.” That was a risky suggestion, but he was right; A little extra power to the shields might spell the difference between life and death.

“Do it,” I replied. “No, wait.” I keyed the intercom again. “All crew, all crew. Find a secure location. Gravity will be deactivated in thirty seconds.” I keyed back to commlink. “Give me a thirty count, then do it.”

“Copy.”

By now, we were nearly in range, and the black ship did not seem to be reacting to our presence. I continued to drive straight at the ship; I wasn’t going to ram it, but I wanted to get close enough that it wouldn’t be able to target us very well. Diaz announced that he was in range and I heard the buzzing rip again, then saw the lines of a half dozen supersonic projectiles zip out from beneath our ship toward the black ship, then a flash as they splashed against its shields. Another burst followed, then another. It’d probably take more time than we had to penetrate those shields, if we could at all, but it had an effect; the black ship faltered on its strafing run against the station.

“Remember us, asshole?” I growled, then pulled up in time to bring us over top of the black ship, listening with satisfaction as Diaz tore off several more bursts at point blank range; as close as we were, it might even have been enough to do some damage.

“Captain, it’s coming around,” Diaz said. I couldn’t see it now that we’d buzzed over the top, but proximity sensors confirmed what he was saying. “I think we pissed them off.” I kept a course that would take us right over top of the station, hopefully giving them more time to fire.

“Keep it up, Hostile Witness,” I heard the controller say. “Our gunners should be able to lead them if they follow you.”

“Acknowledged,” I replied. “I just hope you can do some damage before they do too much damage to us.” As if my words summoned them, the ship rocked several times from impacts to the shields.

“How we looking?” I asked across the commlink.

“Shields are holding, but we can’t survive too many of those,” Clinton replied. I jinked toward one of the larger batteries on the station before I realized they were missile batteries.

“Damn it, I wish their missiles could lock on. This station’s loaded for bear when it comes to missiles.”

“Loaded for what?”

“Never mind!” I saw a beam trace by us from behind, and jerked the yoke away from it, instinctively. Despite my maneuvers, we took another good hit.

“Captain, I have an idea,” Omar said.

“Just do it,” I replied, looking between the station below and the radar. I shoved the yoke forward, diving down past a row of flaming star docks and coming up underneath the station. It gained us some time; as fast as the black ship was, it was too big for tight maneuvers this close to the station, whereas close-proximity maneuvers was what I excelled at.

“Deploying drone,” Omar announced.

“What’s the idea?” I asked. “A drone’s not going to be able to do sufficient damage to a ship that size, and I’d rather not just crash it into it if it can be helped.”

“Nope, didn’t even deploy the combat drone,” Omar replied. I watched the blip on radar fall behind the ship, moving toward the black ship.

“What?”

“Hang on,” he replied. “Just a little closer…” I heard him grunt, and imagined him leaning into the drone console like a kid’s video game; everyone knew leaning helped. Then I heard Diaz open fire again, which meant that the ship was back on our tail. I cut to port, aiming for a gap between two of the larger industrial complexes on the outer rim of the station. Then I heard Omar laugh.

“Holy shit,” he burst out. “I think it’s actually working.” I opened my mouth to demand he explain what his plan was, but he beat me to it. “Captain, ask The Forge if they can track a signal in the 28MHz band.”

“What?”

“Just do it, Captain!” We took another hit, and the lights flickered. We were running out of time, so I did what he said.

“Forge Control, this is Hostile Witness!” I said. “Look for a signal at 28MHz!”

“We’re tracking it,” the controller said, then exclaimed, “It’s coming from the black ship!” I suddenly realized what Omar had done, and I started laughing in spite of another hit and more flickering lights.

“Then light that fucker up!” I yelled. Bringing my ship in an upward arc, back around to the top of the station, I aimed directly for one of the large missile batteries and watched as they came to life and began to track.

“Captain, we can’t take another hit like that,” Clinton warned. I gritted my teeth, but kept on course toward the missile battery, hearing the occasional burst of gunfire from Diaz. “Captain!” Clinton yelled urgently. I leaned hard into the yoke, taking us sharply to starboard just as I saw the missile batteries fire.

Too late. A massive crash ripped through the ship and I was slammed forward so hard I smashed my face into the yoke. Instinctively I jerked it back, blinking through tears and pain to confirm that our unexpected nosedive had brought us perilously close to the station. Alarms were blaring and lights were flashing all over the console, including one I’d hoped to never see: Breach.

“All crew report in!” I yelled over the intercom. Clinton, Diaz and Omar reported in immediately, followed by a shaky-voiced Janice, then Lorna. After that, the only sound was the insistent alarms. I pulled the yoke hard again, bringing us around another of the industrial complexes and down, giving us a respite as the black ship would be forced to maneuver around the station to continue its pursuit. “Shanna! Melva!” I shouted. “Report in!”

Nothing. I finally located the breach in the cargo bay, a big one; they’d shot us right in the ass, and it looked like the shields were still down.

“Clinton, get those shields back up,” I ordered, then keyed the intercom again. “Medic Harper, attempt to locate the non-responsive crew members and report their status.” I continued to maneuver, wishing I could see what was going on behind me, but I didn’t have the time to try to pull up a visual; I’d probably need to set up a console macro at some point, if we lived through this. “Diaz, what’s going on back there?”

“The black ship hasn’t come back around, I don’t see it,” he replied. “The station did manage several direct hits, before I lost sight of it.”

“Drone’s still transmitting,” Omar added, “but I’ve lost visuals from it. It was probably damaged.”

“Shit, Captain,” Clinton said. “I can’t get the atmo scrubbers to respond, and we’re losing O2 like crazy.”

“Uh, Captain,” Omar interjected again, worriedly, “I hate to add to the bad news, but the drone just went quiet.”

“Alright already,” I yelled, struggling to control my panic. Jumping away had been an option I’d kept open from the moment we engaged, but with a breach and no atmo recovery, it wasn’t anymore; with two of my crew not responding, I feared the worst. We were going to have to attempt to dock and take our chances along with everyone else.

“Forge Control,” I said, keying up external comms. “We are damaged and losing atmo. Request permission to dock.”

“Permission denied,” the controller answered, regret evident in his tone. “All star docks have been breached as well.”

“Acknowledged,” I replied dully.

Then I saw the black ship. It was coming down around the edge of the station, for the first time visibly damaged. I felt my lips curl back into a snarl and I jammed the throttle all the way to max. I keyed the intercom. “I’m…” I swallowed a sob and dashed my hand across my eyes angrily, noting in passing that it came away covered in blood. “I’m truly sorry, everyone,” I said. “For everything.” Then I drove the ship directly at the black ship, as fast as I could. If we were going to die, I was going to do everything I could to take that bastard down too.

Instead of firing on us the black ship attempted to pull away, but its maneuvering had obviously been damaged. I was able to course correct easily to keep the ship dead ahead. Diaz was firing in staccato bursts, and to my surprise, they were actually hitting the ship instead of being deflected by the shields. If I could get there, we could cripple it.

“Captain!” Lorna’s voice burst across the commlink, startling me. “I’ve found Shanna and Melva. Shanna’s okay, but Melva’s unconscious.”

“Hey Captain,” I heard Shanna say faintly through Lorna’s commlink. They didn’t know that we were about to die. I steeled my nerves and leaned into it, not responding. The black ship had turned completely away from us now and we’d become the pursuers. I smiled grimly.

Then it started to pull away. It was wallowing like a pig in a pond, but the main thrust appeared to be fine; they were running.

“No!” I screamed, denied even revenge. My vision swam, and I shook my head to try to keep it clear. Someone was talking over the comms, but it was barely more than a buzz on the edge of my consciousness. I felt tears of helpless anger stinging my eyes, but I wasn’t really seeing anyway; all I knew was hatred.

I felt an insistent hand on my shoulder, pulling at me, a voice, calling. I tried to swat it away, but the effort was too much and suddenly the darkness rushed in.

=+=

When I woke up, I immediately started thrashing. Something was holding me down! I struggled and started to scream until a hand touched my cheek and I smelled a familiar perfume. I tried to open my eyes, but still couldn’t see and felt the panic start to rise again.

“Hush, hush,” I heard a voice say, and the soft hand stroked my cheek. “It’s okay Suze, you’re okay.”

“Shanna?” I tried to reach up, but found I was still restrained. “What’s happening? Why can’t I move? Why can’t I see?” The hand left my face and I felt it tugging, then the gauze that had covered my eyes was pulled away and I could see again. I was in a dimly lit room in a high bed with raised sides; a hospital bed. Shanna sat beside the bed, gauze wrapped around her head as well, and she smiled at me when I finally focused on her. Aside from the gauze, she looked like hell. Her eyes were blood red all around the iris, and there was a dark bruise on her cheek.

“There you are,” she said. “Back among the living.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Why am I restrained?”

“You were pretty wild when Lorna and I came to check on you,” she replied. “You’d stopped responding on the commlink and when we got to you, you were screaming incoherently and took a swing at her before you passed out. I can hardly blame you, between the crack on your head and the oxygen loss.”

“How’d we get here?”

“When we came to get you, the station was calling on comms. They’d sent a shuttle once the black ship turned tail and were trying to get you to stop the ship.”

“So, everyone’s alive?” I asked, feeling hope blossom again, then wither immediately as I remembered more of what had transpired. “Melva!” I tried to sit up, but the straps holding me were too firm.

“Shh,” Shanna said again, putting a gentle hand on my chest. “She’s okay. Concussion and a sprained wrist, but she’s okay. Everyone’s okay.”

“Everyone?” I sighed, settling back. “We won again?”

“Yeah, we did,” she replied. I started to laugh, a silent, wheezing laugh that was very, very close to crying.

“I think, once Melva’s up and around, I might need to talk to her about this God of hers,” I murmured. “Because someone out there is obviously looking out for us.”

Ion Trail 24: Secret Weapon

We had to make a few adjustments with Volcon, but fortunately, the Admiral’s request wasn’t going to take us too far out of our way. I found myself wondering about how convenient that was, but without having him in front of me to ask, I just shelved it for later. We made our preparations, loaded up the cargo, and got ready to leave Bekter’s Rim behind. I was frankly happy to go; while it had been nice to get off the ship for a while, the crowds and the frantic pace of everything always became exhausting very quickly. Even with dwindling entertainment options aboard-ship I was looking forward to the sedate pace of a medium-length jump. Not to mention the last time I’d seen Janice she’d been furtively carrying something aboard with a barely subdued excitement in her face that I’d never seen there. Hopefully she’d see fit to share whatever it was with the rest of us soon.

“Diaz!” I said with a mocking smile. “It’s good to see you decided to come back. After the second day of not seeing your face, I started to worry that you’d jumped ship.”

“Never, Captain,” he replied with a genuine smile of his own. “Did have fun, though.”

“Great, get your shit aboard. I want to be gone before noon.”

Omar and Clinton were next, chatting animatedly while Clinton maneuvered a box of some sort through the small walkway in the cargo bay. Omar still walked with a limp, but he’d recently gotten the cast off and seemed much happier for it. Those two had been pretty much inseparable since shortly after Omar had come aboard, always working on some project or other or cutting up during crew gatherings. Sister Estrada was the last aboard, another I’d barely seen since we’d arrived. Apparently there was a chapter of her church here on Bekter’s Rim, so she’d spent the whole visit there, in fellowship with her brothers and sisters.

“Did you have a good stay, Melva?” Despite that I still thought of her as ‘Sister Estrada’ and probably always would, she’d asked us all to call her Melva, said we were like family and family didn’t need to stand on titles. Still insisted on calling me Captain most of the time, though.

“I did,” she replied. “As much as I love all of you, it’s nice to be amongst my flock from time to time.”

“Baa,” I said playfully, as I reached over to close the ramp.

Our first stop was four days out, a mining operation in a deepspace asteroid field. They’d lost their primary power core so we were bringing them a new one, as well as a full set of replacement augurs. After that was a one-day jump to an uninhabited system where’d we’d drop off some survey drones before going on to our last delivery destination, which was one of Volcon’s major industrial and distribution hubs. We’d pick up some more jobs from there, but first we’d take a day to go check out another uninhabited system that the Admiral wanted us to investigate. His message had said there was no reason to believe that it would be anything dangerous, but he’d encouraged us to use the tools at hand to protect ourselves as necessary. The round-about way he’d worded things, as opposed to his normal no-nonsense manner, indicated that he didn’t entirely trust that the datastick wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands, but his meaning was clear enough.

It was two days into the trip that Janice finally came to find me. To say she was bubbling with excitement would be a vast overstatement, but her usual surliness was nowhere in evidence. She asked me to follow her so I did, trying to keep curiosity in check. Instead of the cargo bay or the engine room, she lead me to the room that had been set aside for her, which I’d never once seen her use before this moment. Inside, I saw something new: her belongings. Next to the bed was a ratty backpack of the sort you usually saw marketed for wilderness vacationers, but this one was obviously several years old and had been repaired by hand many times. On the small table next to the bed were several small items, including a comb with broken teeth and a thin gold necklace. I looked at her incredulously.

“You actually moved in?”

“Yes, yes,” she said with a trace of her normal attitude as she swatted that away. “That’s not why I brought you here.” She pointed to the table where there was a portable terminal; a step up from a datapad, but easier to carry than a stationary terminal. This one looked sleek; unlike almost everything else she owned, it was obviously brand new. Likely this was where the money she’d asked for had gone to. I took a closer look at the screen which was turned on and had lines of code rapidly scrolling across it.

“So, what am I looking at, aside from a very expensive terminal?” I glanced back at her, and she actually had the grace to blush a little bit, though it didn’t dampen her enthusiasm.

“That code is your local datasphere running through a filter,” she said, as if that explained everything. I schooled my features to a deliberately vapid expression, and blinked ostentatiously at her several times. She scowled and explained further. “It’s what StyxRatt sent. I’ve already run your entire datasphere through it three times; you had some minor viruses in some of the darker corners, by the way.”

“Um, okay? So this is… what, a virus scanner?”

“This is a virus scan in the same way that a capital ship has pop-guns,” she retorted scornfully. “This terminal, running StyxRatt’s software, will completely clear all known infections, and several unknown ones from our local datasphere several times a day.”

“Okay, that sounds nice, I guess,” I said, apparently missing something.

“You guess?” she looked incredulous. “After everyone’s been bitching and moaning for the last week about updates, you guess?”

“Wait,” I said, finally catching on. “Are you saying this will clear out whatever viruses the black ships have infecting the datasphere?”

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why else would it even matter?”

“So we can sync and get updates?” I said, excited. “Finally!”

“Are you sure you should be Captain?” she said. “You’re a little slow on the uptake.”

“Oh shut up,” I replied, not even mad. “Not everyone speaks datasphere as a second language.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking it through. We wouldn’t be able to update until we got to our final stop, since the mining station had a datasphere that was likely about as up-to-date as ours was; likely they’d want us to update them instead of the other way around. But this was huge, not just from a crew satisfaction angle. Updated navdata and system configurations for the ship and subsystems would probably grant small performance upgrades across the board. I could almost hug her, if I didn’t think she’d likely shank me for my troubles. I glanced at her and noticed that her earlier excitement seemed to have evaporated; I was missing something again, but I didn’t think asking straight out was the best tactic.

“So what made you finally move in?” I asked, looking around the small room. “I thought you said you liked the maintenance tubes.”

“I needed the room to work on this,” she said, looking around as well, anywhere but at me. “I couldn’t build this terminal in such tight spaces.” I looked at her, skeptical; while it was probably easier with the room, I doubted that she couldn’t manage it if she’d wanted to. She caught my look and scowled. “What?” she demanded.

“Is that really the reason?” I asked, making my tone as gentle as I could.

“Yes!” she snapped, then looked down. I waited a minute in silence, and she finally spoke again. “I’m not a freeloader, alright? I earn my way.” I sat back, eyes wide at the vehemence in her tone.

“I never said you were,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “You’ve been a big help, ever since we were first contacted by StyxRatt.”

“Not like you, or Clinton or Lorna. Julio and Shanna are always working, making things happen, and even Melva cooks and makes everyone feel better.” She dropped her head again at this admission, which confirmed my suspicion that Sister Estrada knew quite a bit more about Janice than she let on. “All I’ve done is decode a few messages and eat your food, live in your ship and take up your air.”

“Hey,” I said, scooting over next to the girl. “Listen, you’re part of my crew. If all you ever did was stalk around and glare at me, that’d be enough. But you’ve helped out with a lot more than decoding a few of StyxRatt’s bullshit ciphers and I value your contributions as much as anyone else’s.”

“Whatever,” she said, refusing to look at me, her hair falling down around her face and muffling her voice. “But now I did this. I got you and everyone the datasphere again. I got it working, and you didn’t even seem to appreciate it at first.” I sighed in order to keep from laughing. I remembered being this young and unsure of myself, though it seemed a lot longer than a decade ago.

“I didn’t appreciate it at first because I didn’t understand what it meant,” I explained. “You’re a very smart kid, and this stuff seems simple to you, even when it’s not. All I ever really wanted to do was fly away. My understanding of the datasphere, except where it specifically applies to ships, is about as complex as basic queries and watching my shows.” I punched her shoulder lightly. “Doesn’t mean I’m slow on the uptake, though. I’d like to see you plot our next jump and see how long it takes you.”

“I’d probably do it in half the time,” she muttered, but I could hear the smile she had hidden behind the curtain of her hair.

“You know what, maybe we’ll just have to see about that,” I warned her, then stood up. “Come on, let’s go tell the crew. It’ll be a few days before we can make use of it, but having something to look forward to will put everyone in a good mood.”

=+=

The mining station job had gone as smooth as butter, as had the survey drone drop-off, and we were now coasting in to our final delivery destination. Volcon had definitely come through with some good jobs, and I was entirely happy with keeping a steady working relationship with them, so long as there were no open-ended commitments. I liked nice, tidy jobs where we could fuck off to a vacation planet for a week if we wanted to without having to check with anyone else; not that vacation was on the agenda any time soon. As soon as we were done with this delivery, we’d be heading out to do the Admiral’s job; hopefully that would be as uneventful as he’d indicated, but he wouldn’t have sent us unless it had something to do with the war against the black ships.

The delivery location was an industrial station, called The Forge, situated in a system with a lot of rocky planets which were the site for multiple dedicated mining operations, and the whole lot was essentially owned outright by Volcon. The Forge’s primary purpose was refining the raw materials from the various mining operations for shipment elsewhere to be manufactured into useful commodities, tools and machines. It was a big operation, and there were ships constantly coming and going; aside from producing materials, it also served as one of several centralized warehouses for Volcon’s commodities. As such, it was heavily defended for being a relatively small station and we were made aware of that upon jumping into the system, when we were hailed almost instantly.

But with legitimate credentials and the one-time passcode from Kristina, we were able to get docked in short order. The factor was waiting for us when I dropped the ramp.

“Evening Captain Rickard,” the short man said cheerfully. “Sorry about the abrupt welcome, but we’ve our share of pirates out here.”

“Not a problem,” I said. “We were prepared for it ahead of time.”

“Yes, the notification we received also said that you’d likely want to take on cargo here as well.”

“We will, though not yet,” I hedged. “I have a quick survey job in TDG-14526-D, then I’ll be coming back to take on cargo.”

“Understood,” he said. “Volcon is naturally the biggest customer here, but we do have several smaller businesses which have set up shop aboard station who might be interested in your services. Most of the ships that dock here are Volcon freighters or bonded contractors so they may be willing to pay a premium for delivery, although Volcon will always make it worth your while.”

“You’re… surprisingly fair for a Volcon employee,” I said, impressed.

“Well, I have to use the services those businesses offer,” he admitted. “So it’s worthwhile to stay on their good side. Plus my wife owns the local brewery, so if you’re looking for recommendations…” He trailed off hopefully and I laughed.

“We will certainly check out the brewery and see what she has to offer,” I agreed. “For now though, we’d like to offload and get out to our survey job as quickly as possible.”

“Certainly,” he said, then gestured the porters and their loading machines forward.

The unloading and inventory was quick and efficient and within the hour I was back on board, bank account significantly fatter, getting set to plot the course. We did run into a bit of a delay, however, once we’d synced the datasphere and navdata; Janice reported that the Volcon datasphere was riddled with the viruses planted by the black ships, and that it would likely take an hour or more before it would be clear enough to plot the navdata without giving anything away. Once that delay was past, I got to work, and we were away soon after.

Once we got to TDG-14526-D, if there was no threat present, the Admiral wanted us to plant four passive probes at polar orbits, so that the star system could be constantly monitored without the planets or the star itself screening any possible activity. If a threat was present, we were to remain unobserved, record what we could and get out of there as soon as possible. TDG-14526-D was only about six hours away via hyperspace, so with luck we’d be back in less than two days with most of that time spent flying around in-system to plant the probes. An hour before the drop, I asked Diaz, Omar and Clinton to report to their stations for a dry run.

“Alright boys,” I said, “we’re about to deliberately drop into what may be hostile territory. I want you to do a final system check on weapons, shields and drones. Then we’re going to talk about the Secret Weapon.”

“Do you really have to call it that?” Omar complained. “If you’re not going to tell us what it is, at least don’t use corny nicknames.”

“I dunno, I kinda like it,” Clinton argued. “Does kind of suck that you wanted me to hook it up to the power grid, but wouldn’t tell me what the hell it is, though.”

“Muahahah,” I replied. “Stop your bitching and let me know once you’ve completed your checks.” It took five to ten minutes before they all reported back in, eager to find out what Admiral Clarke had given us.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” Diaz said. “Spill it, Suze!”

“Hey, it’s Captain at the moment,” I corrected him with mock sternness. “Alright, so I need all non-essential systems to shut down. According to what I’m told, this thing draws some serious juice.”

“Yeah, hopefully it’s worth it. Non-essential systems includes shields, while this thing is running.” I’d given Clinton enough information to know its power requirements, so he knew what he was talking about.

“Now listen,” I told them. “My keeping you all in the dark was mostly just for my own amusement, but this is actually pretty serious. Admiral Clarke tells me that he could probably be court-martialed for giving this to us.” I waited until they’d all acknowledged the seriousness of what I was saying. “Our Secret Weapon is a signal stealth device, much like the black ships use. The TU had been researching something like it for a while, but only figured out the technology after their first contact with the black ships.”

“Holy shit,” Omar’s voice came across the commlink as a whisper.

“We’re gonna be invisible?” Diaz asked.

“No, we won’t be invisible any more than the black ships are,” I replied. “And I’m sure as shit not going to paint my ship black, since that’d be a good way to get blown out of the sky by a nervous TU frigate. We’re just going to have to be careful and rely on being a small ship in a big, dark universe until we can until we’re sure there’s nothing there to worry about.”

“Understood.”

“Great. Now let’s fire this thing up and make sure it’s not going to overload anything before we put it to the test against a real threat.” I watched as the power draw dropped dramatically as shields, guns, drones and other less important sub-systems went offline.

“Prepared to activate the Secret Weapon,” said Clinton, none of his former jocularity evident in his tone. “At your order, Captain.”

“Do it.” Do it? I thought. I should have said ‘engage’ or ‘execute’ or something. The power draw suddenly jumped to nearly full capacity and a warning flashed up on the center console.

“How are we looking?” I asked expectantly.

“There’s definitely some serious draw for a single system,” Clinton replied “but we’re good. We could probably bring some of the lesser subsystems back online.”

“So, it’s working?”

“Well, it’s on.” I heard him fiddle with some stuff. “How would we know if it’s working?”

“Um.” I considered. “I guess if no one shoots at us?”

“I guess that’d be a good indication,” Clinton agreed.

“Am I the only one who expected something a little more dramatic?” Diaz spoke up, and I laughed.

“No, you’re definitely not the only one,” I told him, then sighed. “Alright, shut it down for now. I’ll have you bring it back up right before we drop out in…” I looked at the timer. “Twenty minutes. Take a break if you need to, but be back in place in ten minutes. Got it?”

“Copy,” Clinton said, and I heard Omar’s voice echo a half a second later.

“Sure thing, Captain,” Diaz added. I signed off and slipped out of my seat. Maybe if Melva was still psychic, I’d have time for a cup of coffee.

Sure enough, when I got to the galley she was leaning against the counter enjoying a cup of her own. When she saw me, she grabbed my cup from the cabinet and poured it full.

“What would it take to get you declared a saint?” I asked her as I prepped my cup. “Seriously, Saint Java of the Spacelanes, or something.”

“Well, I’d have to perform a miracle for starters,” she answered. I took a long drink of my coffee, gasping as I swallowed it down a little too quickly.

“Sister, you perform miracles every day.”

“Well, perhaps something a bit more dramatic, then.” I laughed quietly and focused on my coffee. I wanted it gone before I had to get back to my seat. Sister Estrada, unusually, took advantage of my silence to talk.

“It seems that her accomplishment with the datasphere has done something for Janice,” she said in a conversational tone. I grunted since I’d just taken a mouthful of coffee and she continued. “Not only has she finally moved into her room, but she was in here visiting earlier; not grumping and scowling at everyone and everything, but actually making conversation, with Lorna.” I nodded; I’d also noticed the difference, ever since our brief talk in her room. I wondered if the priestess had talked to her about it.

“What a difference feeling valued can make,” she commented a little too casually, then smiled at me in such a way as to make it clear that it was anything but. “Well, I’ll let you finish your coffee. I know you’ve got work to do.” Without another word she left the galley, leaving me by myself wondering what she was trying to say. I didn’t have long to ponder; I gulped the last of my coffee and returned to the cockpit for the drop out.

We returned to normal space with the sensor stealth field active, but none of our other defenses. I felt naked knowing that there was no shield between us and any potential hostiles, especially when we had no way of knowing if the stealth field was even working. Tensely I ran a system scan, though it wouldn’t likely pick anything up if the black ships were around; only proximity scans seemed to do anything, and they’d have to be right on top of you for that to work. The telemetry came back as I’d expected, so I plotted the first coordinate for the probe.

“Clinton, I want you to keep visual scans toward the star,” I told him. “Diaz, do the same with the nearby planets.”

“Copy,” came Clinton’s reply, shortly followed by Diaz’ acknowledgement. Half an hour passed and nothing had shot at us; my shoulders started to relax, and I told Omar to get ready to deploy the probe. Since we didn’t have enough power remaining to operate the drone console, he’d just have to space it from the airlock, but it was designed to right itself into a stable orbit before going into passive mode, so that was alright.

“Alright Captain, it’s away” Omar said, once the probe had been spaced.

“Good,” I replied. “Prep the second one, then go take a break. I’ll want you to spell Clinton in a while, since this next flight’s going to be a few hours.” I’d also ask Lorna or Shanna to relieve Diaz after a bit; since we weren’t using the gun, all I needed were eyes on the visual displays. Meanwhile, I worked on the plotting the course back to The Forge once we were done.

“Captain, there’s something,” Clinton paused. “Something, near the star. I can’t make out what.”

“Kick it over to my display?” I told him.

“You got it, now.” The image popped up on my console, and I peered at it. Definitely something.

“Try to zoom in? Apply digital enhancement?”

“Working on it,” he replied. The image got a bit sharper, then the light filtration kicked up, making the shape  considerably more visible. “Shit.”

“Shit is right,” I said, looking at it. It was hard to describe, but it was definitely something that appeared to be mostly black, silhouetted against the bottom edge of the star, nearly into the corona. There was also an odd reflective distortion that made the outline of the object difficult to discern. All the same, I would be willing to bet that it was a black ship. I slowly brought the ‘Hostile Witness’ to a stop, even though we hadn’t reached the next probe drop point. “Stealth field is up, right?” The power drain told me it was, but I was happier when I heard him confirm it.

“What’s the plan, Captain?” Diaz asked.

“We’re going to sit right here, not make any sudden moves, while I finish plotting the navdata. You’re both going to keep an eye on that. Then as soon as we can we’re getting the hell out of here.” I turned my attention to the navcomputer and prayed that the stealth field was actually doing more than just drawing power. I kept glancing at the display of the ship expecting it to move any moment, but after about ten minutes of nervous rechecking, I was able to focus on the navdata. Just a little more luck, and we’d be gone. Maybe ten minutes, tops.

“Shit,” Diaz’ voice came over the commlink. He didn’t cuss basically ever, so my attention snapped back to the visual display. The black ship was retracting whatever the reflectors were, and it was definitely moving. “Captain, it’s getting closer.” He was right, I realized.

“On it,” I muttered, swinging the ship around with the maneuvering thrusters, before kicking the throttle up. The ship was far enough out that we could probably make it if I could get the last few calculations done. The new navcomputer was a big help, but it wasn’t enough of an upgrade to manage the calculations by itself. Maybe the black ship’smovement was coincidence; it hadn’t opened f-

“Captain, it’s firing missiles!” Omar’s voice cut threw my thoughts. When will I learn not to jinx things! I slammed throttle to full and the lights flickered before the ion drive stabilized. There was no way we were going to outrun missiles, but I definitely didn’t want to let it get in range for kinetics or beam weapons; it definitely looked big enough for beam weapons. I kept talking while I pummeled my brain to build the last equation in the navcomputer.

“Clinton, Omar, kick off that useless-ass stealth field, and get the shields online. Diaz-“

“Wait, Captain,” Omar cut in again.

“Wait? No, get the shields up! Now!”

“Wait, Captain!” Omar insisted. “The missiles, they’re completely off trajectory!” Cursing, I checked the display and saw that he was correct; the ship itself had picked up speed, but the missiles were scattering as if completely unguided.

“Why would they do that?” I demanded, doing my best to divide my attention between the last calculation and the display. Evasive maneuvers would be counterproductive until the ship got close enough to use its other weaponry; until then, straight away was the best option we had. I wondered if it had an interdiction field, too; it was larger than the scout we’d encountered last time, so I considered it likely.

“I think it’s the stealth field,” Clinton’s voice returned to the conversation. “It can see us plainly enough, but you can’t blind-fire a missile at that range. They need guidance and guidance systems need to be able to lock onto something.” It made sense. Now I just wished I could make this equation make sense. Focus. Focus!

“I’m trying to get us to jump, but be prepared to fight,” I said. “That will mean shields, so be ready to swap.” Fuck, don’t forget to carry the seven, I told myself. Okay, that looked right. I didn’t have time to recheck it, though. I hit Enter and watched the navcomputer resolve the equation. I glanced at the visual display, and the black ship was still gaining on us, quickly. If it wasn’t in range yet, it would be soon. Time to roll the dice. As soon as the jump solution displayed, I confirmed it and reached up to slap the jump button.

“Go!” I yelled, expecting the flash of hyperspace and the viewscreen cover to close, but the star field ahead stayed steady; I looked back at the navcomputer and saw the displayed error: Invalid Navdata.

“Captain! It’s charging some sort of cannon!” I jerked the yoke blindly to the side, and keyed navcomputer back to the last equation I’d entered.

“It’s firing!” I jerked the yoke back the other way, not taking my eyes off the equation. If we didn’t jump soon, it wouldn’t matter anyway; we weren’t sufficiently armed to deal with a ship of this size. The lights flickered and audible warnings began to blare, then the ship shuddered with impact. I heard Diaz shouting, followed by a ripping buzz from underneath the ship.

Then I saw it, a rounding error two steps back. I corrected the equation and made the resultant changes in the latter steps before scanning my work one last time. This was probably our last chance. I slapped the Enter key again, waited for it to resolve, then confirmed and hit Jump as soon as I could.

A blinding flash of light, a small lurch and we were away.