Cradle of War (A Captain's Crucible Book 3) (6 page)

T
ell them the suit was aboard one of our other vessels,” Jonathan sent. “The
Maelstrom
, which we lost in the battle against the Raakarr.”

The Elder got to keep some of humanity’s technology in the form of the shuttle, so it was only fair that humanity should receive some of theirs in return. It was a gamble, of course, but Jonathan was betting the Elder would be so relieved to have their offspring back that they’d quit while they were ahead. That was what he would have done, anyway.

Even so, if the Elder refused to back down Jonathan was fully prepared to give up the suit.

When the gamma ray reply finally came, Barrick once more spoke over the comm.

“The Elder ask why four of our ships continue to hide behind the far moon of the gas giant,” the telepath said.

Jonathan muted the line and glanced at Robert. “So much for the pincer maneuver we planned to employ. It seems they knew precisely where our ships were hidden the whole time.”

Robert nodded. “I don’t like these Elder very much.”

“Ops, any idea how they’re able to detect our ships?” Jonathan asked.

“It can’t be via the Slipstreams,” Lewis responded. “Since the moon isn’t in the line of sight of either at the moment. It’s possible they have detection units scattered throughout the system, maybe on the moon itself. Either that, or they’re using those gravity waves of theirs somehow.”

“Would those waves allow them to detect the suit hidden aboard the
Dagger?
” Jonathan said.

“No idea, sir,” the ensign responded.

“They could be bluffing,” Robert said. “They know four of our ships are absent, but they don’t know for certain which moon they’re hiding behind, and took a guess.”

“It’s possible,” Jonathan agreed. He thought for a moment, and then unmuted the connection. “Barrick, tell them what I do with my fleet is my business.”

Jonathan waited anxiously while the
Talon
dispatched its gamma ray. Was he going to have to back down? Would the Elder even let him, or would they simply attack?

The gamma ray response came. Jonathan tapped his fingers uneasily on his thigh; he noticed several of the bridge crew watching him, and self-consciously stopped the tapping.

Have to pretend I’m in complete control.

He folded his arms and allowed his features to smooth into a mask of serenity.

Barrick finally spoke over the line. “The Elder wish to know if there is anything else we would like to inquire of them before they depart this system.”

Jonathan slumped very slightly as relief coursed through his veins. He took a moment to compose his thoughts and then said: “Yes, there is one more thing. They said the enemy Raakarr promised not to ambush us when we passed into Vega 951?”

“They did,” Barrick agreed.

“And the Elder also said they could peer through Slipstreams, and use them like telescopes of sorts?”

“Yes...” Barrick replied.

“Well,” Jonathan said. “Before they go, can’t the Elder take a look into Vega 951 and confirm no ambush awaits us?”

“I’ll have Valor ask them,” Barrick responded.

After the prerequisite exchange of gamma radiation, a few minutes later Barrick had a reply.

“The Elder say they have examined the endpoint,” Barrick said over the comm. “There is no ambush, and no mines. It is safe.”

“Really,” Jonathan said, not convinced. He muted the line and glanced at Robert. “There are a couple of small planetoids near the Slipstream. I have a feeling they didn’t bother to check behind those.”

“What if they can’t?” Robert said. “Maybe they can only observe other systems via the optical properties of the Slipstreams.”

“Either way, they certainly wouldn’t reveal the full extents of their capabilities to us,” Jonathan commented.

Barrick came on the line. “The Elder also say they’ve already reconfigured the Vega 951 endpoint to point to Prius 3.” 

Jonathan unmuted the connection. “Is that wise? What’s to stop the Raakarr fleet from performing a raid deeper into human territory?”

“You don’t trust anybody, do you, Captain Dallas?” Barrick said.

“No,” Jonathan said. “I’ve learned a few painful lessons in my long navy career, the biggest being that the only people you can truly trust are your own officers. And sometimes not even them.”

“Probably an accurate assessment of humanity in general,” Barrick transmitted. “We all have our own agendas in the end. Even AIs, which we designed in our own image.”

“Yes, well, getting back to final questions for the Elder,” Jonathan said. “I don’t suppose they can alter the properties of the Slipstream so that we don’t have to create a Gate to pass through?”

“I’ll have Valor ask them,” Barrick replied.

After the exchange of gamma rays, the telepath’s voice came back over the comm: “The Elder said it isn’t possible. But, they will leave the Slipstream endpoints here pointing to Vega 951 for the next year, though, giving us time to build a Gate. They also hinted that perhaps the Zarafe faction should share some of their traversal tech with us early, to help decrease the time it takes for our return.”

“That would certainly be appreciated,” Jonathan said.

“I’ll see if I can convince Valor,” the telepath responded.

“Do your best,” Jonathan said. “I can’t tell you how important it is that we return to our space early. If we have to wait here another six months while the Builder finishes a Gate... well, in that time the Raakarr could easily prepare an invasion force and launch a surprise attack. We could return to find humanity on the losing side of a galactic war.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the telepath replied.

“Thank you, Barrick,” Jonathan said. “Captain Dallas out.”

The captain was aware of Robert’s disapproving gaze upon him.

Jonathan extended his noise canceler around the commander so the rest of the bridge crew wouldn’t hear his next words. “You still don’t trust him.”

“How can I?” Robert said. “After what he’s done.”

“I don’t either, of course,” Jonathan said. “But tell me, if he can get us that Slipstream-traversal tech, what will you think of him then?”

Robert frowned. “Either way it’s not going to change the fact that he’s going to be tried for treason and kidnapping if he ever returns. No matter his reasons.”

“True enough,” Jonathan said.

“The heat signature of the Elder vessel has disappeared,” Ensign Lewis announced. “They’ve passed through the Slipstream.”

Jonathan repealed the noise canceler and sat back. “So they’ve finally gone.”

“Do you really think the Elder are going to be watching us over the next while?” Robert asked. “Judging us?”

“I have no doubt whatsoever,” Jonathan said.

Robert smiled wanly. “It’s too bad. Because we’re probably going to fail their test.”

“I have no doubt of that either,” Jonathan said. “That they haven’t told us the pre-conditions for a passing score tells me they
want
us to fail.”

“Why let us go, then?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Maybe to justify their actions to whatever alien consciences they have. Or to their government. I can imagine the dialog:
we gave them a chance to abide by our rules, and they failed. Now we’re going to wipe out their race.
”

“It’s possible they’ll invent the pre-conditions as they go along,” Robert said. “If we make peace with the Raakarr, they’ll destroy us. If we war with the Raakarr, they’ll destroy us. Basically no matter what we do, they destroy us.”

Jonathan extended his noise canceler around the two of them. “You’ve grown rather dark since Bridgette was kidnapped. What happened to the optimist in you?”

“He’s still there,” Robert said. “But he only rears his ugly head occasionally these days.”

“Ugly?” Jonathan smiled sardonically. “Maybe you should take some time off. Spend some time at her side while she recuperates.”

Robert shook his head vehemently. “I need to work. I need something to distract me. Because whenever I’m with Bridgette, all I can think about is how I want to blow Barrick and his Raakarr friends into the void for what they did to her. Her physical wounds will heal someday. But the mental wounds? I think she’s scarred for life.”

“You misjudge her,” Jonathan said. “She’s not so fragile, Robert.”

“She is,” Robert replied. “And after what happened to the baby, I don’t blame her. Hell, I’m nearly broken by it.”

Jonathan chose his next words carefully. “Do we know if the baby will survive, yet?”

The commander pressed his lips together tightly. “The medical officer tells me the baby’s chances have improved. We’re looking at eighty-twenty, instead of fifty-fifty.”

“Well that’s good news,” Jonathan said.

“Maybe,” Robert said. “They had to cut him out of her, and they’re feeding anti-rads directly into his umbilical. The medics say his growth will probably be stunted, at least in the short term. Long term, they have no idea what the effects of the radiation poisoning will be, nor the consequences of his treatment. If he survives that long.”

Jonathan closed his eyes. The poor child was off to a hard start. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Robert said. “Because now you understand why it’s important that I come to work everyday.”

But Jonathan didn’t, not really. He would have been a nervous wreck himself in such a situation. He was close to that state as it was: Bridgette was a good friend. He’d known her since assuming commanding of the
Callaway
all those years ago. He would have given his life for her, and in fact he almost had at one point. As for the baby, he was partially responsible for its fate, because he had convinced Bridgette to keep the child. Perhaps that had been a poor decision.

I shouldn’t meddle in the personal lives of my crew. There are always consequences.

He sighed, and turned his attention to the nav specialist. “Nav, set a course for the moon. Let’s go pick up the rest of the fleet.”

“Aye sir,” the specialist responded.

When the course was set and the task unit was on its way, Jonathan glanced at Robert. “Once we’ve rendezvoused with them, we’ll make for the Slipstream on the outskirts of the system.”

“The farther Slipstream?” Robert said. “That’ll add days to our return trip. You were the one emphasizing the importance of speed. Why not take the closer? The Elder said they would update the Slipstream properties of both Slipstreams to point to 951, remember.”

“I know, but I don’t completely trust them,” Jonathan said. “I’d rather go through the same wormhole the Raakarr did. Besides, if Valor doesn’t share his traversal technology, it’ll take us another six months to return anyway.”

Robert spread his hands in a pacifying gesture. “You’re the captain.”

“I am indeed.”

B
ridgette resided in the ICU, where she recuperated with four pilots: Lieutenant Commander Jason Wolf, Lieutenant Frank Turow, Lieutenant Lin Akido, and Lieutenant Hop Grisham. She had memorized the full names and ranks of these men and the woman who had risked everything for her.

Her belly still throbbed somewhat where the weavers had made their incision, though she supposed it was mostly because of the staples, as the majority of the wound had healed thanks to the accelerants the units had applied.

She felt queasy most of the day. She wasn’t sure if that was from the radiation poisoning, the treatment, or both. All of her hair had fallen out, as had the hair of her companions. It was probably for the best, as her scalp felt extremely itchy.

Her body was dangerously underweight. She wanted to eat naturally, but she had no appetite at all. Hence the intravenous feeding tubes.

She wished she could see her baby, but Eugene was hooked up to an umbilical inside a tank in another room. Still, sometimes she thought she could sense him, almost as if he were lying beside her; once, during one of her many midday naps, she could have sworn she was viewing the world from inside of his holding tank: though Eugene was no longer inside her, she couldn’t shake the feeling they were still linked, somehow. Perhaps it was just the natural bond all mothers felt with their children.

The head weaver disallowed Bridgette and her “cellmates” from using full-blown VR, because it would only worsen their nausea and prolong their recovery. As such, to pass the time, they often chatted when they weren’t browsing the cached copy of the InterGalNet on their aReals, or listening to music.

“Have you ever been to an Asiatic Alliance colony?” Lin said.

Bridgette was listening to some music with her aReal, and she lowered the volume when she realized Lin was talking to her. She refused to disrespect the woman who had disobeyed orders to save her life.

“What? No, I haven’t,” Bridgette said, wearing a smile for her. “Why, Lin?”

“I’m from Anvil Rappel,” Lin said. “An AA colony. Really beautiful. You would like it, I think. The capital sits on a terraformed planet that orbits a double star. Have you heard of the aurora borealis?”

Bridgette looked it up quickly on her aReal. “An atmospheric phenomenon that occurs sometimes in the northern hemispheres of Earth. It’s called aurora australis in the southern hemisphere. Streamers of greenish blue light appear in the night sky when charged particles from the sun interact with atoms in the upper atmosphere.”

“That’s right,” Lin said. “Well, on Anvil Prime, we see auroras at all hours. Every day. The intensity of the streamers varies based on whether or not one of the stars is undergoing a solar storm, but otherwise, you merely have to look up and you’ll see those streamers, a constant reminder that you’re not alone in this world, but watched over by the goddess of the dawn.”

“I should like to see that some day,” Bridgette said. “With Eugene.” She momentarily teared up when she mentioned the name of her child, but she quickly recovered. Wanting to draw attention away from the fact that she had become emotional, she quickly added: “Didn’t the task group originally pass through Anvil Rappel on the way to Vega 951?” She wiped the embarrassing tear that slid down her cheek.

“We did, yes.”

Bridgette nodded. “It’s a long way from Anvil Rappel to the United Systems Navy.”

“Not so long,” Lin said. “My parents immigrated to the neighboring system when I was twelve.”

Bridgette checked the location on her aReal. “Delta Avalon?” That was a United Systems territory.

“Yes,” Lin said. “I joined the Delta Avalon navy when I turned seventeen, and here I am. How about you? How did you end up as a commander’s wife?”

Bridgette chuckled. “I was actually a specialist first class when I joined the
Callaway
. I met Jonathan, our captain, and fell in love with him. But he seemed too unattainable. Robert was his faithful first officer, and it was obvious he liked me. One time, on shore leave, when I was drunk...”

“All the best stories start with that sentence,” Lin said.

Bridgette smiled. “Yes. Long story short, I left the navy to marry him. It hasn’t been so bad. Robert is a good man. And eventually I fell in love with him.”

Lin’s face darkened and Bridgette remembered that Lin had originally served aboard the
Callaway,
but Robert had been the one who had separated her from her squadron, ordering her to serve aboard the
Salvador
. Bridgette still wasn’t sure why.

“But you still love the captain, don’t you?” Lin asked, making Bridgette forget the question that had come to her.

Bridgette shrugged. “Don’t all the women aboard?”

Lin’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I suppose so.”

Wolf was looking at her, and Lin obviously knew it.

The lieutenant commander grabbed a small paper bag from beside his bed. He reached inside, produced a chip of some kind, and crunched it loudly.

“Where are you getting your appetite from, Jason?” Frank asked. He was Wolf’s current copilot.

“I’m forcing myself.” Wolf raised his arms, and the intravenous tubes flopped about. “I’m getting mighty sick of these, and I figure if I make it look like I have an appetite they’ll disconnect the damn things.”

“What are you eating anyway?” Frank asked.

“Chips.” Wolf stuffed another into his mouth and chewed loudly. He offered the bag to Frank, and the pilot reached inside and produced a red-black, corrugated-looking chip.

Frank held it up to the light. “Chips? This looks suspiciously like a Krenuvian variant.”

Bridgette looked up the term on her aReal, and nearly gagged. Apparently, the denizens of Krenuvia created a special type of edible, organic “chip” by scraping off portions of their skin so that they bled, and when scabs developed over the exposed tissue, they collected and sold them as “chips.” Apparently it was a delicacy served by certain exotic restaurants as part of their appetizers. Some variants were derived from livestock, but the practice was frowned upon in most districts, and human “chipping” was often preferred. Funny that cruelty to humans should somehow be considered more acceptable than that to animals, though she supposed financial incentives negated any perceived barbarity on the human side: it was okay for men and women to suffer, as long as they were paid for it.

“They’re not,” Wolf said.

“It’s a bit disgusting you’d even bring something like that up,” Bridgette told Frank.

“We’re in a medical setting. We have nothing to look at but our own scabs all day. Why wouldn’t I think of it?” Frank popped the chip into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

“Actually I lied,” Wolf said. “They are Krenuvian.”

Frank retched.

“Notice that he waited until Frank actually swallowed it,” Hop said. He was Lin’s current copilot.

“You’re a bastard, Wolf,” Frank said, dry heaving.

“When people call me that, I know I’m doing something right.” Wolf gave Lin a wink.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Bridgette said. “Lin. When we’re all well, would you be willing to come to a going away party I want to hold in your honor? My way of saying thank you, for saving my life. Before they send you back to the
Salvador
.”

“I think I can do that,” Lin said. “But I have to warn you, there will be some tears shed that night.” She glanced at Wolf, who very carefully didn’t meet her eyes.

“Thank you,” Bridgette said.

“I’ll expect you to keep me updated with Eugene’s progress,” Lin said. “I have a vested interest in the child now, you know.”

Bridgette smiled. “You saved us both.”

“I can’t take all the credit. My copilot Hop did half the work.”

Hop laughed. “I was there mostly for moral support.”

“You know, I kind of envy you,” Frank told Lin when he finally recovered.

“How’s that?” she replied.

“You’re not stuck on the
Callaway
anymore,” Frank continued. “I for one would love the opportunity to serve aboard the
Salvador
, if only for the change. You can fall into a rut sometimes when you serve year in and year out on the same starship. Still, I know I speak for us all when I say we’re going to miss you.”

Wolf finally met Lin’s eyes. “We’re all going to miss you.”

Lin sighed. “And I’m going to miss you all, too. Saying goodbye once was hard enough. Having to do it all over again?” She shook her head sadly.

Bridgette reached out and held her hand. “We can still talk over aReal every day.”

Lin smiled sadly. “Yes we can.” Her gaze drifted once more to Wolf, and Bridgette finally understood.

The two were lovers.

How could Robert break them apart like that? She resolved to speak to him about it at the first opportunity.

In the meantime she would rest and recuperate, and hope, with all her heart, that Eugene pulled through.

Z
HIDAO HAD BEEN greatly disappointed when the “Elder” had retired from the system. He had been working on a means to board their vessel, but his plans hadn’t come together soon enough, and now they were gone.

The Elder had something his species desired greatly. He was certain the opportunity to acquire that something would present itself in the future, because when he returned to that place of timelessness shared by his race, the probabilities greatly pointed to such an event. He need simply wait a while longer.

Probabilities.

The humans called it Quantum Bayesianism, but theirs was a centuries old theory that was so very incomplete. How little humanity’s understanding of the universe was. They were like snails compared to him.

He moved through the passages, aware that the
Callaway’s
AI was tracking his every movement, and yet it didn’t matter because the AI was complicit.

He reached the compartment that he sought, and when the hatch shut behind him he said: “Do you know me, Maxwell?”

“Please reconfirm access code,” the AI responded.

“5452940 tango bravo delta,” Zhidao said.

“Access granted,” the AI returned. “Proceed.”

The bulkhead slid aside and Zhidao stepped into the adjacent compartment, where several Artificials rested in stasis, secured to their holding frames.

“I’ll take this one,” Zhidao said, resting his hand on one particularly appealing unit. “I have instructed you on what will happen next?”

“You have,” Maxwell said. “Complete authority will be granted to the new unit.”

“Good.” Zhidao retrieved his blaster and placed it on the deck behind the Artificial, and then he initiated the transfer to the new body.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at his old face. Those eyes merely gaped back at him, apparently stunned. Zhidao struck out, hurling the automaton backward, and then he broke free of his holding frame.

He retrieved the blaster from the deck and fired a shot before the Artificial could get up. The automaton’s head melted away and the useless being collapsed.

“Maxwell, please dispose of that body when you have a chance,” Zhidao said from his new form. “Also, overwrite the personnel entry for my current unit with what I’m sending you now.” That way, if anyone accessed his profile they would see the tailored entry.

“It will be done,” the AI intoned.

Zhidao hid the weapon on his person and proceeded from the compartment. He couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched his face.