Blood and Fire (34 page)

“Commander Brik,” Parsons said quietly. “We'll need restraints for Commander Jarell.”

“No, you don't!” Jarell stood up, backing away.

The hatch popped open then, and four security officers entered. Bach, Shibano, Armstrong and Easton. They had their weapons drawn. “Take Commander Jarell into custody,” Brik ordered. “Try not to hurt him.”

“Captain—!” That was Blintze.

Jarell had backed up against the bulkhead. He had reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial—
filled with pink and gold flickers
. He held it out before him like a shield.

“—he's got plasmacytes!”

“Don't anyone come any closer!”

Parsons and Korie both came to their feet, horrified. “Don't anyone move—don't anyone do anything stupid.”

“A containment bottle,” explained Jarell. “We developed these on the
Norway
. I didn't know if it would work—coming through the suppressor fields and the repulsors—but it did. Now I can see I was wise to do so. Captain Parsons, I am going to complete my mission. And you're going to help me. Or you'll have plasmacytes on the
Star Wolf
.”

“We already have plasmacytes on the
Star Wolf
. On the hull.”

“That's not a problem,” Jarell replied. “Hull alloy is a natural containment. That's where we got the idea for these—” He held up the bottle.”

“If you release those,” Parsons said, “You'll die too.”

Jarell shrugged. “I'm not afraid to die for my beliefs.” He added, “And if I'm not afraid to sacrifice my life for the cause, I have no problem sacrificing your lives as well.” He grasped the top of the vial. “Unless you deliver this ship to Morthan space ... I will break the seal.”

Blintze spoke now. He advanced quietly on Jarell and spoke in a voice that was half-whisper, half-croak. “You're doing it again! Aren't you? Haven't you learned anything from what happened to the
Norway
?”

“Yes, I have,” said Jarell. “I've learned not to trust anyone else.” He stepped forward, holding the vial before him. “I mean it, Captain. Set a course across the rift.”

Parsons looked to Korie, looked to Brik, looked back to Jarell. “Can we talk about this?”

“There's nothing left to say. The time for talk is over.” Holding the vial before him, one hand on the seal, Jarell moved toward the door—and the Bridge.

“Let him pass,” said Parsons.

Brik frowned at the instruction, but he gestured to the security team. They backed carefully out of the way as Jarell stepped through the door into the corridor. “Come on, Blintze!” he called.

The haggard scientist made his way embarrassedly across the wardroom, muttering “excuse me, excuse me,” as he pushed past Parsons and Brik. “I'm sorry, Captain. Really, I am.”

Parsons followed him into the corridor. Korie started to follow after her but Brik reached down, grabbed his shoulder and pushed him aside so he could follow the captain—and Jarell. He gave Korie one of those looks that could have meant anything but probably meant
let me handle this
. He ducked down to fit through the door, then Korie followed. He glanced over his shoulder and motioned for the security team to keep behind him.

When he stepped out onto the Command Deck, he saw that Jarell had parked himself in the executive officer's chair—a breach of etiquette so gross that Korie couldn't believe the man had done it deliberately. He had to be ignorant of the ways of the ship. Unless ... he wanted to send a message. The glittering vial was nowhere in sight. Blintze stood glumly behind Jarell.

Parsons was just sitting down in her own chair. “Commander Tor? Would you please prepare a set of courses for Commander Jarell's inspection?”

Tor swiveled around in her chair to stare at the captain with a questioning expression.
Excuse me?

“We want to cross the rift and dive into the heart of the Morthan sphere.”

The look on Tor's face went from curiosity to disbelief.
Is he crazy or are you?

“Commander Jarell has a very convincing argument,” Parsons said, without explaining.

Korie glanced sideways to Brik. The big Morthan was standing in the Ops Deck so he could be eye-to-eye with those on the Command Deck. “I really hate it,” Korie said dryly. “I hate being convinced like this.”

“The Cinnabar Option?” Brik asked.
³

“Too dangerous,” Korie said. “And too messy.”
And besides, HARLIE is down.

“Captain ...?” said Tor, fumbling for the right words. There were none.

Jarell reached into his jacket and pulled out the biotube. He held it up high so everyone on the Bridge could see it. For a moment, the Bridge was silent—except for the usual background hum of ship sounds.

Korie glanced backward. Bach and Shibano were in front of the hatch, Easton and Armstrong were still in the corridor; they all had their weapons out. Korie held a hand low to indicate caution. He noticed that Easton was trembling—he had to do something. And quickly. He stepped forward and said, “Captain, I didn't have a chance to tell you before. The warp core of the number two engine has to be flushed. The microstabilizer fields have been lethetically compromised and Chief Leen needs to do a suborchial inter-alignment on the bivalve spline. We can't run with a gelatinous wobbly.”

Parsons blinked at him as if he'd just said, “
The gostak distims the doshes
.” And then, without blinking, she replied crisply, “I specifically told Chief Leen not to flush the warp core in a stress-field depression. That's why the bivalve is misaligned! You can't get the revolvitrons stabilized in a gravitational perplex! Where the hell did he learn engine deconstruction! Goddammit. I don't want excuses. I want results.” She turned to Jarell, and her tone became sweetly apologetic. “I'm sorry, Commander. We're not going anywhere for awhile.”

“It's all right, Captain,” he replied. “I'm sure you and Commander Korie can reconfigure the double-talk generator in no time. Certainly before I've decided on a course.” He wasn't fooled.

Parsons didn't even acknowledge the failure. Her voice became more business-like. “It'll take several days to get free of the gravitational effects of the red star. We won't be able to enter hyperstate for a week. Are you planning to stay awake the whole time? It's two months to cross the rift. You're going to have to sleep sometime.”

Jarell nodded. “I understand you had your HARLIE unit simulating our LENNIE.”

“Yes, and it drove the poor unit psychotic. We'll be decontaminating it for months.”

“I have a better idea. Let's bring it back online. We'll use the LENNIE programs to stand watch over me while I sleep.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” said Korie.

“I do,” said Jarell. “Discussion's over.”

Korie looked to Parsons. She nodded. Korie said, “I'll get to it right away,” and remained where he was standing.

“What about the plasmacytes on the hull of our ship, Commander?”

Jarell shook his head, a gesture of dismissal. “That's how we'll infect the Morthan worlds—we'll dive through their upper atmospheres and leave a trail of infection. By the time the plasmacytes drift down to the ground, we'll be long gone.”

“I meant—won't they eat through our hull?”

“No. The radiation shields are a natural containment. As long as you don't lower them, we're safe.”

“And after our mission is over, how will we get off the ship safely?”

“Don't worry about that either. There's a cure.”

“No, there isn't. We searched the
Norway
. The biotubes were empty.”

Jarell shook his head. “You didn't find it, that's all.”

Parsons looked away, momentarily at a loss, trying to figure out what she could say next. For the first time, she noticed the security team behind Korie. She bit her lip, then looked across to Brik. “Commander Brik. Let's be very careful here. I don't want anyone trying anything stupid.”

“I appreciate that, Captain,” Jarell said. He turned around in his chair and looked past the captain, past Korie—to the security team waiting at the hatch. “You're dismissed.” They didn't move.

Korie nodded to them. “Pull back.”

Bach and Shibano started to back away. They ducked through the hatch. Armstrong moved to follow them—but Easton stayed where he was, pointing his stinger pistol directly at Jarell's head. “Let me do it, Captain! Just give the word!”

Without taking his eyes from Jarell, Easton spoke to Captain Parsons in a voice that was harrowing in its desperation—and its deadly certitude. “I can drill him right through the eyes. He'll be dead before he has a chance to break the seal.” He stepped closer to Jarell.

Jarell held the vial up so Easton could see the top. “Look, stupid—see that button? It's a doomsday trigger. If my heart stops, the seal explodes, the vial shatters.”

“No problem,” Easton said. Still aiming the weapon at Jarell's head, he reached over with his other hand and adjusted the target setting. “I'll set for wide-beam stun.”

Parsons took a step forward. “Daniel. Put that stinger down. Now.”

“I'm sorry, Captain—I can't. Give me the order,
please
.”

Jarell looked over to Parsons. “You realize, of course, what will happen when that stinger beam hits this vial. Even on the lowest level, it will provide enough energy for the wavicles to escape the containment bottle.”

“Don't do it, son,” Parsons said. She didn't want to make it an order—because if he disobeyed it, she'd ultimately have to prosecute him for insubordination. Or worse. And she didn't want to do that.

Thinking quickly, Korie stepped into the space between Jarell and Easton. He looked directly into Easton eyes. “You'll have to shoot through me, Dan.” Jarell took advantage of the opportunity to take a cautious step back.

“Why are you protecting him?! He's a walking LENNIE.”

“I'm not protecting him. I'm protecting
you
.”

“I'm trying to do my duty—”

“Not this way. Dan, listen to me. I know what you're going through—”

“No, you don't. You've never been bonded.”

“I was married. And my wife was the most special person in the universe to me. And our children were our greatest joy. So don't tell me what I don't know. But let the Fleet handle this. I promise you, Yonah Jarell isn't going to hurt anyone ever again. Dan! Give me the stinger.”

Armstrong took a step out of the hatch and called softly, “Danny, please. Please, listen.”

Easton shook his head. “The man is evil. The man doesn't deserve to live. Captain, give the order.”

Korie whispered, “Dan, we can't afford the luxury of revenge. Hate is a disease. I don't want the
Star Wolf
infected with it any more than I want this ship infected with plasmacytes. Hate made the plasmacytes. Is that what you want to continue?”

And Armstrong took a step forward and said softly, “Is this what Paul would have done? Do you think he would have wanted you to kill in his name? If he were here, what do you think he would say?”

Easton wavered, undecided. And then—he blinked. And blinked again.

Standing in front of him was Paul Berryman. Alive. Healthy. Sparkling. “Honey, I'm home,” he said.

“Paul—”

“Dan, shut up and listen to me. I'm only dead. I'm not gone. Everything that we ever had together, it's still right here—inside of us. Don't piss it away on him. He's not worth it.”