Test of Mettle (A Captain's Crucible Book 2) (31 page)

Lin stared hesitantly at the diverging orbits on the tactical display. She knew she had to depart immediately, before the Delta V cost between their orbits became too great. As it was, her Avenger would have just enough to get to Wolf, and then the
Callaway
.

“I’m going out there,” Lin told her copilot. “Are you with me?”

Grisham’s disembodied voice came from beside her immediately: “Can I tell the commander I was simply following your orders?”

“Yes,” Lin said.

“Well hell yeah, then, I’m with you. First chance of action I’ve seen all day.”

Lin powered down the magnets and retracted the grappling hooks. She applied thrust as she broke away from the hull.

“Lieutenant Akido, what are you doing?” Lieutenant Commander Casals sent from the
Salvador
. “Remount immediately. You’re going to crash into our hull.”

Lin tapped out the communication. But she took the Lieutenant Commander’s words as a hint that the pre-burn was about to become an actual burn, and she released more propellant, jetting past the edge of the
Salvador
and into the blinding radiation of the subgiant.

The aReal in front of her eyes automatically adjusted the light levels so that she could see again. Even so, the interference on the external cameras jumped up a few levels, crowding her vision with white noise. And not all of that interference was caused by the aReal: she was certain several of the streaks she saw were energetic proton-optic nerve interactions.

She rotated the Avenger so that the heat shield faced the sun. That didn’t reduce the interference.

At the top of her vision, a virtual rear-view mirror provided the output of the rear-facing camera, and with it she watched the
Salvador
move upward fairly rapidly: it looked like her hunch was correct, regarding the start of the actual burn. The nearest edge almost clipped them.

“How rude,” Grisham muttered.

She felt somehow stranded without the lifeline of the
Salvador;
she focused her attention on the Avenger mounted to the Dragonfly up ahead, and the
Callaway
beyond it. She knew that the latter vessel would remain for as long as feasibly possible. Commander Cray would ensure that.

“We’re moving in to retrieve Wolf and the Dragonfly,” Lin transmitted over the general comm.

She activated the aft jets. The craft responded sluggishly, and the propellant levels dropped at an alarming rate. 

“Wolf was right about the radiation,” Grisham’s disembodied voice said. “More than right. Damn... the models never predicted intensities
this
high.”

“Actually they did,” Lin said. “Over the solar prominence, anyway. And can you guess what region of the star we’re traveling over right now?”

“I think my anti-rads are already saturated,” Grisham said. “I’m feeling a bit woozy already.”

“Hang in there,” Lin told him, fighting back a sudden headache. That was the first sign of radiation sickness. Nose bleeds would follow—radiation reduced the number of platelets in the blood, making clotting difficult. Her consciousness was probably being slightly altered, too, as the random rays caused an accumulation of misfiring neurons. And she would have to watch her onboard electronics very carefully. Nothing could be relied upon. Wolf had said he thought his Avenger sprung a leak, but it was also possible the AI had underreported the propellant levels, causing him to expend more than he should have.

“How are you doing, Lin?” Wolf asked over the general comm.

“We’re good,” she responded. “You?”

“Better than ever,” he replied. “By the way, not to put any pressure on you or anything, but Albright says you better hurry up. The
Callaway
can’t remain in this decaying orbit for much longer.”

“We’re almost in position,” Lin said. Locally: “Grisham, prepare to fire grappling hooks while under way.”

“You’re not going to issue stabilizing thrust?” her copilot asked.

“Negative. We don’t have the time, or the propellant.”

“Welcome to the spacewalk from hell, ladies and gentlemen,” Grisham retorted.

It certainly felt like a spacewalk, given that the hull of the craft was a mere outline around them, displayed only as a courtesy by the aReal.

When she was about five meters from the joined Dragonfly and Avenger, she gave the order. “Fire grappling hooks.”

“Firing,” Grisham said. Then: “Damn it. The magnets didn’t take. They just bounced off. I have to retract.”

“Aim for a shaded spot.” She adjusted her trajectory slightly so that she wouldn’t collide directly with the joined vessels.

“We gotta go, Lin,” Wolf sent.

She noticed that the
Callaway
was drifting upward very slowly. The flagship had begun deorbital pre-burn.

No.

She willed the hooks to retract faster.

“Come on, Grisham,” Lin said.

“Firing,” her copilot said. “Got them! Retracting.”

Lin fired a small burst of propellant toward the crafts, abetting the retraction process. The cockpit shuddered when they made contact.

“Activating mounting magnets,” Grisham said. “Secured.”

“We got you, Wolf,” Lin transmitted. “Heading for cove.”

She activated full aft thrust and the joined trio slowly moved toward the
Callaway
. She aimed for the upper edge of a wing, located just inside a hull area that was shaded from the subgiant.

“We’re not going to make it,” Grisham said. “If they hadn’t initiated the pre-burn, maybe we might have. But not now.”

“We’re going to make it.” Lin watched the distance indicator slowly tick down. Fifteen meters. Ten. Eight.

They passed into the shade of the
Callaway
, and the aReal automatically brightened the sudden darkness so that she could make out the hull.

Five meters.

Three.

The propellant abruptly ran out. The bound trio continued to drift toward the hull, but much more slowly.

“Come on,” Lin said. “Come on.”

They floated to the two meter mark.

“Activate hull-facing magnetic mounts people,” Lin said.

“Activating,” Wolf returned. A moment later: “Doesn’t seem to be helping. Not yet.”

The closest edge of her craft drifted to a distance of one meter away, and the powerful magnetic forces from the mounts finally took hold, quickly drawing the fighter in.

She felt the harsh reverberations of impact as her craft plowed into the hull. An instant later another shudder passed through the cockpit as Wolf’s Avenger attached. The magnetic forces held them securely.

“That was close,” Grisham said.

“Wait, what about the Dragonfly?” Lin sent over the general comm. “If it doesn’t magnetically attach to the
Callaway
before the full burn sequence begins, we’ll
all
be torn away from the hull.”

“Pilot of Dragonfly 3A, do you read?” Grisham tried.

No answer.

“Pilot of Dragonfly 3A...”

“Sorry,” a female voice interrupted over the line. “I blacked out,”

“We need you to activate your magnetic mounts,” Grisham said. “Do you know how to do that?”

“Yes, I think so,” the woman returned. Her name was Bridgette, Lin believed.

A moment later Lin felt a tremor pass through the cockpit. The port side of her Avenger tilted upward slightly as a mounting magnet partially lifted from the surface there.

“I’ve attached to the hull,” Bridgette transmitted.

Lin exhaled in relief.

She felt the uncomfortable press of G-forces as the inertial compensators struggled to counterbalance a sudden directional change. On her tactical display, she saw that the
Callaway
had initiated full deorbital burn.

“We survived,” Grisham said.

Lin felt a sudden rush of tears in her eyes, and she started laughing uncontrollably. Grisham joined her, as did Wolf and his copilot over the comm. Bridgette, too.

“I guess,” Lin said through her guffaws and the tears of joy. “I guess I have... a disciplinary proceeding to look forward to!”

“You do!” Grisham said, chuckling raucously. “And me too... because I’m not going to let you... take full responsibility for this!”

She erupted in yet another boisterous round of laughter. “Really? That’s... hilarious.”

Wolf’s voice came over the comm, and he struggled to speak between his own unrestrained chortles. “You two are getting the brig! And I, meanwhile... I’m getting... a medal!”

Lin exploded into more loud guffaws, sniffling. “I’d actually love... to be in the brig... right about now.”

When she finally got herself under control, she rubbed the tears from her eyes and smiled.

“What a day,” she said.

What an amazing day.

J
onathan studied the tactical display from his office. The damaged pyramid ship and its escort had rejoined the remnants of ETU-F1 and ETU-F2, and the six vessels fled toward the opposite side of the system. They wanted to rest and recoup, lick their wounds. Jonathan didn’t blame them. They had lost thirty-one ships, including the four from the initial engagement and the two defectors. The human fleet had lost one.

Still, for Jonathan even one was too many. Captain Smith and the crew of the
Maelstrom
would join the long list of accusers who haunted his nightmares alongside Admiral Knox.

The six survivors of the human task group, plus the Raakarr defector, had finally broken away from the gravitational pull of the binary stars many hours ago and were headed in the opposite direction of the alien ships. A few of the inner planets lay ahead, along with the system’s second Slipstream. Beyond that lay a gas giant, which they would use to refuel.

He gazed at the dot representing that Slipstream. Even if the rogue faction shared the Gateless technology necessary to pass through wormholes early, it wouldn’t have helped them: apparently the upcoming Slipstream looped back in upon itself just like the farther one. That was what the Raakarr defectors claimed, anyway.

His attention turned to the inner planets. That was where the strange humanoid had headed when it fled the icy greenhouse world. After it vanished from the sensors, no further sign of that humanoid had been detected.

The door chime sounded, rousing him from his thoughts. Via his aReal, Jonathan activated a macro and the
Callaway’s
top-down map appeared, automatically zooming in on the bridge. The aReal identified the flashing dot standing outside the office as Commander Cray.

“Come in, Robert,” Jonathan said.

The hatch spiraled open and the commander entered. His face was haggard, no doubt from staying up all night at his wife’s side in intensive care.

“How’s Bridgette?” Jonathan asked, beckoning toward the visitor’s chair.

“Recovering well enough,” Robert answered, taking a seat opposite the captain. “Barrick forced her to install an anti-rad before she went out there, but it wasn’t enough. She has a terrible case of radiation poisoning. The doctor thinks she’ll pull through, but we’re not sure if the baby is going to make it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Jonathan meant it. Bridgette was a good friend, and he hated the thought that she might lose her baby, especially since it was basically because of him that she had decided to keep the child.

“And the pilots who rescued her?” Jonathan asked.

“They’re recovering well,” Robert said. “They’re all in the same ICU, of course. Bridgette has taken a liking to Lieutenant Akido.”

“I have to decide upon her disciplinary action, soon,” Jonathan said. “Captain Rail wants me to have Lieutenant Akido and her copilot dishonorably discharged.”

Robert nodded slowly. “That would perhaps be a suitable punishment.”

Jonathan thought of something. “Lin was Lieutenant Commander Wolf’s copilot at one point, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” the commander agreed.

“Why was she reassigned to the
Salvador?
”

“Albright reported them for fraternization.”

“Ah.” Jonathan tapped his lips. “First fraternization, then insubordination. Even though she saved your wife, you know I can’t allow her to walk away scot-free, as much as I want to. It would set a bad precedent.”

“I understand, sir,” Robert said. From his disappointed tone, Jonathan thought the commander had been hoping for leniency.

The captain nearly wavered in that moment, but decided what he was about to do would be the best for both parties. “Effective immediately, Lieutenant Lin Akido and her copilot are reduced in rank to ensign. If we were back in United Systems space, I would have probably discharged them from the navy entirely, as Captain Rail asked. But given our current shortage of pilots, that’s not something I can afford to do. I will inform Captain Rail of my decision.”

“Yes sir,” Robert said. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Ensign Akido will remain aboard the
Salvador
. If she and Wolf must fraternize, tell them to do it via teledildonics and VR. Or on shore leave. Otherwise, if they are ever caught again, one of them will have to quit the navy. As you know, we’re very accommodating to families of crew members.”

“Yes Captain,” the commander said. “I’ll relay your orders. Though it will be fairly difficult for them to fraternize, being stationed on different ships and all.”

Jonathan smiled patiently. “I’m talking about while they’re recovering in the
Callaway’s
ICU.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll let them know.” Robert paused. “You know, the space wing commander of the
Salvador
probably won’t let Akido fly again.”

“I’ll have a talk with Captain Rail, and remind her that we need every experienced pilot out there. If I learn that Akido is being underutilized, I’ll have her transferred to a different ship.”

“But not the
Callaway,
” Robert stated.

“Not the
Callaway
,” Jonathan agreed. “Not while Wolf is aboard. We’re doing them a favor.”

Robert nodded, then said: “Permission to return to the bridge, sir?”

Jonathan indicated for him to remain seated. “I read the debriefing report you put together from the video logs in Bridgette’s aReal, regarding her time spent aboard T300. You mentioned how the audio and video cut out in a few places, and that you planned to follow up with her in person, when she was well enough. Did you ever get a chance?”

Robert nodded. “I asked her this morning. She says she met another man aboard that ship. An Artificial who was a member of the
Selene’s
crew. She thinks the machine was collaborating with the aliens somehow.”

“An Artificial collaborating with the aliens?” Jonathan tapped his lips. “That reminds me of something Lieutenant Commander Basette told me.”

Robert cocked an eyebrow. “The officer in charge of the MOTHs?”

“The very same,” Jonathan said. “After the previous battle, Chief Galaal reported seeing a man aboard T300 after all the remaining crew members of the
Selene
had been evacuated, a man surviving in the voided passageways of the alien ship without a spacesuit. Odd thing is, when they checked the video logs later, moments before Chief Galaal said he witnessed the man, the recording blanked out.”

The commander rubbed his earlobe. “Just like what happened with Bridgette.”

“Coincidence?” Jonathan asked. “I somehow doubt it.”

“It would seem we have a mystery on our hands,” Robert said.

“Indeed. None of the robots with Galaal saw the man either, so Basette dismissed the sighting to a stress hallucination and almost didn’t report it.” Jonathan folded his palms and steepled the fingers. “Have Chief Galaal peruse the
Selene’s
crew manifest. See if he can positively identify who it was he saw aboard T300. We’ll have Bridgette corroborate the identity later when she’s feeling better.”

“On it,” Robert said.