The warriors shade, p.31
The Warrior's Shade, page 31
Sirens blared. Even in his dream, Boone recognized the double klaxon of the emergency alert. All benefits of the fields vanished. Rolling off the med table, he found his feet and stumbled, then ran, through the amber-lit halls to the command center. By the time he arrived, adrenaline coursed through his veins, warming his body with an urgent flame.
Cotsern was already busy throwing commands around the room at the officers and crew, who scrambled to man their stations. Boone had drilled it into them so their actions were close to automatic. The command center's dim lighting accentuated the holos and other vis projections around the walls and at the stations, but the war table drew Boone's attention. His eight warships were the only ships highlighted in the holosphere—no opponents.
His facer was off-limits according to Raulton, and if it had any negative effect on his brain injury right now, he would not be in top form. "Put the comms up," he ordered.
Cotsern whirled around and, seeing him, said, "Are you going to be able to handle this? If not, I've got it." He signed the all clear signal, though he was anything but ready for this. Not now.
Admiral Malaya's voice now rang through the command center, and Cotsern removed her facer. "There's no sign of kingships so far," Malaya was saying as her voice transferred to the overhead comms.
Boone's presence of mind flipped with the realization that his worst-case scenario had come true: Coalition forces facing off against the Tazaec and its civilian fleet. This scenario should never happen. A dreadful adrenaline rush flooded his body, carried by the rapid pace of his heartbeat. Reia's fleet had a few warships, but those were slowly converting into luxurious starships. The C.N. would only identify their battle-ready exteriors.
Boone looked at Cotsern. "What's the sit-rep?" he asked both women.
Malaya said, "Six C.N. ships about ten kilometers off our stern, one dreadnought, one battlecruiser—"
"Got it," said Boone, wasting no time. "Can you send your holosphere to ours, so I can see how they're arranged?"
"Sending," said Malaya, and a moment later, his warships were replaced by the Tazaec, its smaller companion ships huddling around it, and six warships not far from the cluster. The smallest ships were vanishing a few at a time.
"How long have they been there?"
Cotsern replied, "They've been closing in for about three minutes."
Boone ran a few scenarios through his head. "If they intended to trap you with the kingships, they would have done so by now." He tilted his head upward, as if speaking to the ceiling would let Malaya know he was talking to her. "Have they made demands?"
"Not quite," said Malaya, a hint of sarcasm spilling into her voice. "They've only threatened to hunt us down and destroy us if we move or jump."
Boone inhaled and exhaled a heavy breath as he considered next steps. They had Elyon. Reia was not a threat. If Boone were running the C.N. fleet, he would have surrounded the Tazaec. Instead, the six ships waited together off the stern. He was grateful for that—if they fired, the Tazaec only had strong shields fore and aft. They were waiting for something… waiting for his fleet to fulfill its contract, appear between them and the Tazaec, and find themselves trapped. The C.N. fleet was also too small, which meant at least two additional ships waited elsewhere.
"Commander," one of the officers at a console called. Both Boone and Cotsern turned, and the officer's eyes darted between the two, then fell on Cotsern. She was the commander here, not him. "Their dreadnought has the same signature as the one that found us at Roma 9."
Cotsern turned sharply to Boone. "This specific fleet knows too much about you and your allies," she said. "The best way to cut them off this trail is to destroy them."
Boone cycled in his mind a dozen ways to approach the C.N. ships with an advantage. His eight warships against their six might be enough, discounting the kingships and the two missing ships. But if the C.N. was already here, what was to stop them from calling in another fleet or two at the first sign of failure?
“We can't destroy them," said Boone. “As long as the C.N. is after me, the Tazaec will be a target, as will all of you." He thought about the consequences of his past and potential actions. Even if his fleet destroyed the entire C.N. fleet, their intel on him, the Tazaec and Elyon's affiliation with it would be in the system. If he tried to humiliate them by causing damage they would have to report, while he and Reia’s fleet escaped deep into the League, they might only become more persistent. Or he could risk setting off a war that would kill thousands, maybe millions, if he simply called in Cotsern's League contacts. None of those were options, but it did give him an idea.
He pointed to the gap between the Tazaec and the fleet. "I believe they are waiting for us to arrive here to defend the Tazaec. At least two ships are missing. I suspect they are waiting to flank us or the Tazaec." He pointed to a space off the stern. "If they use one kingship, they can trap our entire fleet in the middle. If they use two kingships, they can trap us and the Tazaec. But I don't think they want the civs. They want me."
Cotsern's expression deflated. "I was about to jump there when you came in."
Boone did not want to make her feel bad for having nearly fallen into the trap, so he pretended to ignore the statement. "Let's spread out by putting our ships all around them, so they have no one cluster for kingships to surround. They may trap some of us, but not all of us. Then we'll have to see what happens, because I can't think well enough to go through all the probabilities."
"I have an idea," said Cotsern. "Put the Twilight in line with their interceptor, set Malaya up to jump, and if the interceptor moves in for a trace, the Twilight can destroy it."
"That means we'll be firing first," said Boone. "They'll open fire on us, and again, they have two more ships to flank us from anywhere." He scrutinized the C.N. ships in the holo. "They often have two interceptors in a fleet with an admiral."
Malaya, who had been listening to this conversation, said, "What if you give me the battlecruiser? When we jump, it jumps with us and positions to take out the interceptor when it arrives. If we're fast enough, we can jump again and the interceptor will be destroyed before it can send back the next trace."
Boone forced his brain to visualize this scenario. He closed his eyes, and in the silence of the room, only his own rapid, heavy pulse filled his ears. It was a distraction in itself. Tactics, mental visualization, these were supposed to be his strengths. He wondered if Chelani had targeted his head for just this reason. "All right," said Boone, wishing he could think of something else. "Twilight, did you hear that?"
"Aye." Captain Jomara's deep voice filled the room. "Syncing up with the Tazaec now."
"We need to distract them while the Tazaec jumps," said Boone. A distraction might delay the interceptor, giving the battlecruiser more time to ready itself. He looked again at the holosphere and told Cotsern what he thought they should do.
Cotsern relayed a position to each ship and gave the order for the fleet to jump. Thergin put the Makellan nose-to-nose with the C.N. dreadnought so that a higgs net would entrap them both. They were between the dreadnought and the Tazaec, but Boone knew the admiral's ship would be the last to engage, and only if it needed to. The scene in the holo shrank to accommodate the new positions of Boone's warships.
"Ready the EM-driver," said Cotsern.
Good call, thought Boone. Fire it up before we need shields.
The kingships appeared almost instantly—one sphere around the Makellan, the C.N. dreadnought, and several warships in both fleets, and the second sphere around the Tazaec and its remaining companion ships. Boone swore as the holo adjusted again to display the new situation. The Twilight was still free, but the plan for Malaya to jump with her fleet was no longer an option.
"Sir, the dreadnought is comming us," the comms officer said. The admiral, Boone thought.
"Play it," said Cotsern.
A mature woman's voice filled the command center. While she did not have an elite accent, her voice caused Boone to rub the scar behind his ear. Cold droplets of sweat began to form on his neck. "This is Admiral Weden of the C.N. Sovereign," she said, her tone calm and smug. "It is not my intention to cause a scene like we did at Roma 9, although if we must, I assure you it will be much worse this time." She paused, her voice gaining a hint of menace. "You know what I want. Don't turn this into an intergalactic disaster. You have thirty seconds to acknowledge."
45 Surrender
Quadrant: Fringe
System: Blue Astra
Ship: Makellan
Boone raced through as many situations, probable outcomes, and reactions as his sluggish brain would process. He leaned with one hand on the war table, his whole body pulsing with the intensity of his own heartbeat.
"Can I respond?" Boone croaked. The comms officer nodded. Boone drew a breath and forced his voice to a normal volume. "Admiral Weden, this is Turner Boone." Cotsern rounded on him with an expression that said, don't you dare. He continued. "We acknowledge. But I'd like to negotiate."
"There is nothing to negotiate," said Weden. "Tell me when I can expect you on my ship, or I will commence firing on the Tazaec."
Boone's stomach leapt into his throat. He had to think fast, but his brain and his body resisted.
“You wouldn’t,” said Boone, rattling off a protocol designation as if it would force her to reconsider.
“I am already violating a number of protocols. What's one more?” Weden replied.
Despite knowing it was dangerous, he held out his hand to Cotsern. "Facer?"
"No," she said. His eyes flashed wide at her stern refusal.
Fear fueled a burst of anger. "Commander, I need to speak with this admiral in private." Realizing he might still be on broadcast, he glared at the comms officer and drew his hand across his throat. The comms officer nodded. Boone lowered his voice. "We're not going to let Reia's fleet take the heat for our—my inaction. Let me talk to her."
Cotsern scowled with narrow eyes as she handed him her facer. As he slipped it over his ear and connected to his own streams, she said, "You are not giving yourself up."
Into the facer he said, "Malaya, is Reia in range?"
"Affirmative," Malaya replied.
He had no doubt that Elyon's capture had reached Reia. If he managed to survive this, he would be on the run from both Reia and the C.N. for the rest of his life. It saddened him as he recalled how much sacrifice and torment were required to win Reia this freedom, and how she would never appreciate it. Other than recovering Elyon, he could think of no way to appease her. "Is she ready to kill me?" In the slight pause that ensued, he imagined Reia fuming on the flag bridge.
"Affirmative," said Malaya.
Then only one option remained. “Tell her what she wants to hear.”
Boone turned his back on Cotsern and walked out of the command center. Whatever courage had prompted him to give himself up was fading, replaced by the dread he had felt in his suite with Chelani. He had to do this. No one should die for him or for the consequences of his past.
As he walked, he found the connection to the comm with Admiral Weden. "I'm on my way to a hangar," he said. "Let the Tazaec go. They have nothing to do with anything."
"I will let them go when you are in my brig," said Weden. Her voice dripped with contempt.
"Are you working with Chairman Chelani?" he asked. Given how quickly this fleet had appeared after his disastrous handoff of the world-breaker, he assumed so.
After a pause, Boone wondered if his connection had cut off. He reached a hangar where several solos lined up along the outer edge. Passing and ignoring the deck hand, he quickened his step to a single solo with minimal value. When he took that vessel, the Makellan would not be able to retrieve it. While flying between the dreadnoughts, he would wipe its logs to hide any of the Makellan's camping locations in the Penumbra, just in case. He tapped a code into the canopy control, and the canopy slid open.
Weden's sudden response startled him as he climbed into the cockpit. "I am aware of the chairman's activities," she said.
"Then you know he has Elyon." Boone started up the engine. The deck hand was running toward him, and he closed the canopy. "Take me, but let her go. You don't know how dangerous she is."
"Is that so?" said Weden. "I'm sure if the chairman has her, she will be well under control."
Boone had to resist telling the admiral how devastating Elyon's execution would be. From what he understood, if Elyon died, the variant of the Sa-Xe virus she hosted in her genes would emerge, spreading to new hosts. And if it did not find its Sa-X counterpart in the host's genes, it would continue to spread until it did. Every exposed non-Saxen would die. Every corpse would spread the disease farther. Ghost ships would be time bombs. Salvagers would be carriers. Whole stations would be wiped out faster than they had with the original Sa-X a thousand revs ago. A living Elyon might somehow be controlled, but a dead one would be out of control in minutes.
The mag-locks would not disengage. The deck hand reached the solo, pounding on the canopy. Boone glanced at him as he waved and crossed his hands in front of his neck. The canopy slid back.
"I'm sorry, sir, the deck is on lockdown."
"What?" Surprised, Boone switched to a stream with the comms officer. "Put on Cotsern." He looked back at the deck hand. "Can't you override it?"
"Not when it comes from the bridge or the CC," he replied.
Cotsern came on. "You're not leaving."
"I have to, or they'll fire on the Tazaec. Just let me go and they'll let you go. They won't risk starting a war."
"Exactly," said Cotsern. "I'm calling their bluff. In the meantime, we have another strategy to get the Tazaec out of the picture."
Boone groaned, pounding the solo's dash. "It's not worth it. I'm just one person. No one needs to get hurt for this."
"We signed up knowing your background, and we agreed to Reia's contract. We have two obligations to fill here today."
"Do not do anything rash!" Boone shouted, punctuating each word.
He switched to a new stream, filling it with the hexagonal game board he and Greming used. He didn't recall whose turn it was, and he didn't care. They had a rule about taking turns, but right now he needed help. He moved the Warrior piece to the Arbor hex. The trees represented life, growth, shelter, and shade. They had used it to denote a request for help before, and he hoped Greming would be paying attention.
While waiting, he switched back to the stream with Weden. "I'm on my way," he said, stalling. "I'm in a solo waiting for the mag-locks to disengage."
Weden's face appeared for the first time. Her voice had given him an impression of what the admiral looked like, and he was not too far off. She was a mature woman, as would be expected of someone who had climbed to that rank, and her face had lines of age and experience. The short gray hair gave her an aura of wisdom and authority. Narrow, light-brown eyes and a frown indicated she had little patience. "Your time is out, Turner Boone."
The panic squeezed his chest and shoulders. He stared right through the deck hand, who continued to stand beside the solo. He turned to look out the large opening into space. There were nothing but warships in the distance, some his, some C.N., as well as kingship drones holding the higgs net around them. He couldn't go, they wouldn't let him go, he needed to go—and he couldn't decide what to do next.
A motion on the hex board caught his attention. The Satellite token moved to B-One, an attack position. "Where are you?" Boone asked into the game's stream.
"I'm on the Nightfire," Greming replied.
"What are you doing?" Boone asked, his voice attempting to choke itself.
"I have no authority to do anything. I told Tangay how to break the higgs net, and we're going to try it from the outside."
"No—don't! Tell Cotsern to let me go." Boone realized his abdomen was so tight, only shallow breaths worked their way in and out.
"It'll work," said Greming, but Boone knew he was wrong. The battleship would stall in the barrier like the Clandestine had, and the entire crew would be killed or captured. Boone recalled the positions of his fleet around Weden's fleet. The Nightfire was not caught in one of the two higgs nets. Stay out of the trap!
The Warrior piece shifted to A-One, the first hex on the board. Greming had made that move after he and Elyon killed Vindik. A beginning. Then Greming cut off the stream, and the board vanished.
Greming made two moves in a row, a first in the four revs that Boone had known him.
Greming broke the rule.
The former general knew they would be trapped. Had he told Tangay? Had the crew agreed to sacrifice themselves? It wasn’t fair to them when he was here trying to stop this debacle. If Greming was trying to teach him about sacrifices, he was choosing the wrong moment. He was sending innocent men and women to their deaths.
Using only what little breath he could catch, he said, "Cotsern, let me go." He imagined the faces of the Clandestine crew when he, in his dream, at least, gave the order for them to self-destruct. He thought of the troopers who had given their lives already to free him, and ultimately Reia and the Tazaec. He could not let that happen again. He was just one person, the one person who had caused all this trouble and deserved to be the one to take the fall. Not them. Not his people.
The deck hand climbed the side of the solo and leaned over to reach something under the dash. He brushed against Boone’s leg, and Boone sat up. "What are you doing?"
"I can try to deactivate the mag-locks manually," he said from under the dash.
