Command performance, p.1
Command Performance, page 1
Command Performance
Linnea Sinclair
You think they might hold the answer to Serafino’s implant?
Captain Tasha Sebastian retrieved her third cup of coffee. What do you need me to do?
Keep Kel-Paten out of Sickbay as much as possible, for one, Eden replied.
That means you won’t be seeing much of me. Where I go, he goes these days. What else?
Eden took a deep breath. As you said, Kel-Paten has no great love for telepaths, or for Psy-Serv. I have reason to believe he has an extensive personal library of Psy-Serv’s history, their methods, their means, everything. I need access to those datafiles.
You think they might hold the answer to Serafino’s implant?
Maybe not Serafino’s specifically, but at least its medical pedigree.
Sass pursed her lips and regarded her friend carefully. You’re asking me to break into the admiral’s security locked datafiles. Files that are probably loaded with every defensive hacker trap he could create with his mega-million credit mind. Files that probably have more security devices, hidden alarms and fail-safe programs than anything else in civilized space, Psy-Serv’s own databanks included.
Yes.
Files that are located in his quarters, which are again no doubt the most secure location on this ship; hell, probably in this fleet.
Yes.
Sass shrugged. Piece o’ cake. Anything else?
What reviewers are saying about Command Performance…
4 Stars-Excellent! Linnea Sinclair has penned a delightful futuristic romance in COMMAND PERFORMANCE … [combining] a hilariously inept lover, strong females and a telepathic rebel into a wonderful cast of characters.
—Kelly Rae Cooper, ROMANTIC TIMES
Award-winning books and stories by Linnea Sinclair:
Wintertide by Megan Sybil Baker
2001 EPPIE Award Best Fantasy Novel
2001 Sime~Gen Gatemaster’s Award Best Fantasy Novel
2000 PEARL Award finalist
2001 Dream Realm Award finalist
Finders Keepers by Linnea Sinclair
2001 Sapphire Award
2001 PEARL Award
2001 Dorothy Parker RIO - 2nd Place
Gambit by Linnea Sinclair
Grand Prize Winner, Third Annual Romance and Beyond Fiction Contest
2nd Place (tie) 2000 Sapphire Awards, Short Story category
Macawley’s List by Linnea Sinclair
First Prize Winner, Third Annual Romance and Beyond Fiction Contest
How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Linnea Sinclair
First Place (tie): Futures Magazine Short Story Contest
NBI
NovelBooks, Inc.
Douglas, Massachusetts
This is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the characters, incidents, and dialogs are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2002 by Linnea Sinclair
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and review. For information, address NovelBooks, Inc., P.O. Box 661, Douglas, MA 01516 or email publisher@novelbooksinc.com
NBI
Published by
NovelBooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 661
Douglas, MA 01516
NovelBooks Inc. publishes books online and in trade paperback. For more information, check our website: www.novelbooksinc.com or email publisher@novelbooksinc.com
Produced in the United States of America.
Cover illustration by Linnea Sinclair
Edited by Anita York
ISBN 1-59105-064-2 for electronic version
ISBN 1-59105-089-8 for trade paperback
This bit of space opera silliness is dedicated to:
‘Doc’ Janie, RN, the best friend an unorthodox spacefleet captain could ever have;
Daiquiri, my Maine Coon cat, who should have been named ‘Tank’;
Dr. Alexander Keith and the staff at Advanced Wellness, the best friends an author’s aching shoulder could ever have;
And as always, to Rob, husband of infinite patience who after more than 20 years, still finds me amusing.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
About the author of Command Performance
CHAPTER ONE
SHIP’S GYMNASIUM, TRIAD HUNTERSHIP VAXXAR
There might be worse things in the galaxy than a lethal alien virus, Captain Tasha Sebastian mused as her Chief Medical Officer angrily paced the huntership’s locker room aisle. Evidently an admiral with an attitude, and an agenda, was one of them. Especially when that admiral’s actions directly impeded finding a cure for that same lethal virus.
People are dying, Sass. Doctor Eden Fynn flung her hands wide in exasperation, narrowly missing smacking her hand on the metal wall. Her honey blonde hair, normally tucked neatly behind her ears, was tousled and unruly. Her lipstick had
either been chewed off, or left on the rims of too many cups of tea-all sure signs that the Vaxxar’s CMO wasn’t happy.
Sass fully understood why. The Nar’Relian virus had proved to be a stubborn puzzle. Then the admiral provided an additional obstruction to its solution. She scrubbed at her face with one end of the towel draped around her neck before responding. The Triad’s priorities have often been different than ours. And they do make up half the Alliance.
Eden didn’t seem to hear her. I’m so close to finding a cure. But now he announces we’re going in the complete opposite direction. All because some damn pirate turned informant has decided to go on an unscheduled vacation!
The admiral’s announcement had also, and not for the first time, forced Sass to delay her regular zero-g racquet-lob game. It was almost as if he saved all his senior staff meetings for when she was off-duty.
A politically savvy friend had warned her, when she’d agreed to accept command of a huntership in the newly formed Alliance fleet, that just because the Coalition-Triad war was over didn’t mean former enemies would stop sniping at each other. She’d hoped the threat of invasion by the Illithian Empire would create cooperation, not conflict. But Admiral Branden Kel-Paten, the former Triadian admiral, seemed to have made it his personal mission to trip her up whenever he could.
This latest was a little more serious than her disrupted racquet-lob schedule, however. This involved an outbreak of a lethal virus all through Coalit…that is, Alliance space. It was, as Doc Eden Fynn had said, life and death. Eden could save lives-if she had indeed found a cure.
It was a life and death issue to Admiral Kel-Paten, too. He wanted Jace Serafino-that damned pirate turned informant, to quote Eden-dead. He’d all but said so in the staff meeting earlier.
She rested her hand briefly on her CMO’s shoulder. Let me see what I can do. Her commbadge trilled as if to punctuate her words. It took Sass a moment to find it under her towel, clipped to the neck of her pink workout shirt. Sebastian.
My office. Five minutes. The admiral’s familiar deep voice brooked no argument, and was also, considering she was still off-duty, not unexpected. She wondered what crisis he’d uncovered now, just to occupy what was left of her free time.
By your command, sir. Sass tapped it off and caught Eden’s wry grin. What?
Good shirt.
Sass looked down. My name’s No, No, Bad Captain. What’s Yours? was clearly visible now that she’d removed her towel. She grinned back. Maybe she could present Kel-Paten with a crisis of her own. Want to try double-teaming him?
Eden fell into step with her. If he still refuses to change course, there’s no reason I can’t use one of the shuttles, take a med team with me, and—
The red alert sirens erupted as the corridor doors irised open, stopping Eden in mid-sentence.
Sass slapped her commbadge. Captain here. Status, Mister Rembert!
Incoming energy wave. Eight-point-two on the Graslan scale. McAbian residue readings—
On my way. Captain out.
Sass bolted down the corridor for the lifts, her heart pounding. She didn’t have to hear the residue reading figures.
She almost collided with the tall, dark-haired man in a black Triad uniform as she lunged out of the lift. Kel-Paten. He slanted her one of his infamous scowls before grabbing her elbow and forcefully guiding her through the double sliding doors that led to the upper-level of the bridge.
The two-tiered, U-shaped command center of the huntership was already frenzied with activity. Voices were terse, commands clipped. Every screen streamed with data.
Kel-Paten hadn’t released her arm. You’re out of uniform.
She was also off duty, but the possibility they were at death’s door prevented her from reminding him of that fact. There wasn’t time to argue with him. Again.
She offered him a brief acknowledged as she headed for the closest scanner station to check incoming data. What she saw wasn’t pretty, but they had time. Five, maybe ten minutes to try some fancy dancing that could either save their lives or send them to their graves in infinitesimal pieces. She glanced over her shoulder. Kel-Paten had slid into the left command seat. With a practiced familiarity, he thumbed open a small panel covering the dataport in the armrest and linked into the ship’s systems through the interface feeds built into his wrist. He frowned slightly, then his eyes flared bright with that eerie, luminous hue that signaled his cyber systems were at full power. He was spiked in, as much a part of the huge huntership as the drives, scanners and bulkheads.
Except, unlike the drives, scanners and bulkheads, he could talk.
She turned back to her console, knowing he could hear her just as well from there as if she were seated next to him.
Kel-Paten, my data shows a major energy disturbance at oh-five-seven-point-four.
Oh-five-seven-point-four-three-two, the voice through her commbadge stated; yet she knew if she turned, Kel-Paten’s mouth wouldn’t be moving. Preliminary residual shock waves created no perceptible damages. Ship integrity is sound. Secondary waves—
Damn! Sass swore as she was thrust abruptly sideways. She clung to the wide console with both hands.
Forward shields down to eighty-five per cent, a crewmember’s voice announced below her.
Acknowledged! came both her reply and the admiral’s.
She tapped furiously at the console. Kel-Paten was no doubt eons ahead of her calculations in his inner journey through the data, but he looked for the known, correlating and synthesizing.
She looked for the unexplainable.
It was one of the reasons they worked so well as a team, in spite of the fact they’d been on opposite sides for over ten years: she had a knack for understanding the illogical data; he was brilliant in instantly utilizing the available data. Granted, his cybernetically-enhanced thought processes were a million times faster than hers, but he was linear where her analysis tended to do pirouettes and somersaults.
Tell me what we don’t have, Kel-Paten, she said tersely. The huntership shuddered as another line of shock waves impacted against its shields.
Energy signature is not indicative of ionic storm formation. No indication of natural stellar trauma.
Space-time rift? she ventured, her fingers rapidly tapping instructions into the sensor pads.
Highly improbably with no previous black hole activity recorded in this quadrant.
We might just be making history then, admiral, she quipped as she scanned the results of her latest data request. We have abnormally high levels of McAbian particle residue at the sub-atomic level.
Stellar wind shear—
This ain’t no damned stellar wind shear, she barked as the Vax heeled hard to port and everyone’s stomach made corresponding lurches to starboard. Kel-Paten, help me out here. Look at those damned levels!
The few seconds of studious silence from the admiral were filled by the sounds of voices around her: reports of minor hull damage on Deck Seven; a fluctuation in shield integrity portside; two crewmembers with broken arms on Deck Ten. Down in Sickbay, Eden would be up to her pretty blue eyes in contusions and broken bones, Sass knew. After this, they’d both need a pitcher of iced gin!
McAbian levels are increasing at the rate of seventeen parts per nanosecond, Kel-Paten reported. Probability of vortex formation is eighty-seven point six-five percent in the next ten minutes.
At his words, a chill surged up Sass’s spine. A vortex-a hole violently torn in the space-time continuum. It could be anything from the universe farting to the birth of a major black hole as the result of a dark star implosion perhaps hundreds of thousands of light years away. And here they were, stuck at the wrong place at the wrong time with nowhere to go but down the galactic shitter.
Can you spike out, Kel-Paten? We have to do some fancy dancing. I need you at the con.
Agreed. Acknowledged.
Rembert! She called to the science officer two consoles down. Monitor this station-we’ve got a rift coming.
The tense look in the officer’s eyes reflected her own concern. She slapped at the shipboard comm button on her seat’s armrest before she took the seat next to Kel-Paten. His pale eyes were losing their eerie luminescence.
This is the captain. Secure all decks. Repeat. Secure all decks. We’re on a rift horizon. Sebastian out.
She turned to him, asked the question whose answer could well seal their fate. How big?
He’d swung open the small comp screen attached to his seat and watched the data closely. Projected diameter of thirty-seven point two kilometers, given the current state of emissions.
How close are we to center?
One-six-five-three-oh point nine five kilometers from the epicenter; again, given—
I know, I know! Did you re-work the shields?
He glanced at her. Of course. They’re back at optimum.
Well, praise the Gods and pass the peanut butter, she said, noting the undisguised superiority in his tone. Remind me to tell you how much I love you, Kel-Paten. If we live through this.
The ship lurched sickeningly again. Alarms wailed and the data on her screen relayed everything she didn’t want to know. This was a different kind of reminder, a deadly one.
One that stated that when huntership met vortex, vortex usually won.
CHAPTER TWO
Remind me to tell you how much I love you, Kel-Paten.
Something in Kel-Paten’s chest tightened sharply at her quip. He struggled to maintain his usual impassive expression. He’d wanted to hear her say those words for so long that even now, laced with sarcasm, and in the midst of an emergency situation, they still had the power to send waves of heat rolling through his body.
He swallowed hard and forced his gaze away from the petite blonde woman in a captain’s uniform, and back to the comp screen on his left. It took a moment for him to refocus his vision. When he did, he saw that Sass had already taken the hyper-drive engines off line and dropped power on the impulse engines to eighty per cent.
Good girl. The mistake most novice-and nervous-captains made when encountering a rogue energy field was to buck it full bore. That only resulted in tearing the ship apart. It was better to ride the field, navigate the energy waves. But that took some very delicate handling.
Both civilized and uncivilized space was littered with debris from ships whose captains had tried to tackle Lady Nature head on. His ship, he knew with complete certainty, would never be one of them.
Not as long as either he or Tasha Sebastian was in command.
He checked the status in Engineering. Warp core secure, he reported; then changed screens with a tap of his finger. Fifty-five seconds to primary flare.
Great, Sass intoned, following the same data on her screen. The galaxy decides to fart while we’re sharing its undies.
There was a ripple of nervous laughter from nearby crewmembers. He felt some of the tension on the bridge abate, in spite of the seriousness of their situation. He wondered if he should chance a commiserating smile but she’d already swiveled around and was nodding at several officers, Triad and United Coalition.
I love you all, you know that, she announced blithely.
Yes, ma’am! came back several replies from around the bridge.
A high-pitched beep returned his attention to his screen. Thirty-five seconds. He glanced again in her direction. Was she aware of how little time they had left? She regarded him questioningly. The words he ached to say died in his throat. He turned back to his comp screen and wondered, not for the first time, if he were going to die without ever being able to tell her how he felt.
