Morgan's Return (36 page)

Which meant he didn't think so, but there might be a chance. First they had to get away from this ship. The crowd in the bay was becoming restless, the officers' voices more strident. One fellow in particular kept glancing their way. The gauge on the airlock was resetting, now the yellow side of orange, on its way to green.
Hurry up, hurry up
.

Makasa exchanged a glance with her. "It's getting ugly."

"It's not something you can rush." Morgan bit her lip. If they left them here, these people could all die. Guilt welled up. Surely there was something she could do? "Ashkar, we could take one more, maybe two or three."

Frowning, he shook his head. "This ship isn't going to last. What's the point of dying with them?" Ravindra's words were punctuated by another crash, another wave of debris. The deck buckled beneath their feet.

The soft ping of the lock on the airlock hatch disappeared in the cacophony as a section of ceiling collapsed. Morgan just had time to dive.

Chapter 31
 

"M
organ!" All Ravindra could see was her legs. He gripped the edge of a section of girder trapping her, and heaved it aside.

"Is she..?" Makasa leaned over her.

Idiot
. "Get into the airlock," Ravindra snarled. "Now."

He didn't even wait to see if the order was obeyed, just lifted Morgan into his arms and carried her into the airlock, her head hanging over his arm.
Please, Morgan, please don't be dead.
He'd seen death so many times, and learned to live with it but this was Morgan. He felt the thin movement of her pulse under his fingers. His knees felt weak. Thank the spirit. Sometimes he envied the Kotara people on his home world. They believed in Kotluk, the Great Maker, who rode a vulsaur, the great flying beast tattooed on his shoulder. Their shamans would have called on Kotluk to help them. Some of the Kotara had joined Fleet. He wondered if they took their beliefs into space with them?

"She's alive?" Makasa, jammed up against the wall of the airlock beside Prasad, stared at her like an anxious father.

Ravindra nodded. "We'll have to hope Davaskar can get us out of here."

Never had the air gauges taken so long. He counted every nanosecond until the green light glowed.

Makasa and Prasad went ahead to tell Davaskar the news, while Ravindra followed more slowly, Morgan cradled in his arms. A bruise blossomed on her forehead, where she'd hit the deck. Ravindra strode through the common room into
Vulsaur's
med center, Tullamarran at his heels. As he placed her on a bed, the ship shuddered, getting underway.

"
Srimana
?" The man-servant looked better, steadier on his feet.

"She's alive. We need her, Tullamarran. We have to revive her."

Makasa's bulk filled the doorway. "How is she?"

Did the man know how obvious his feelings were? "Tullamarran is working to revive her," Ravindra said.

The fat man's eyes widened. "You can't be serious. Why? To do what? She's injured."

Ravindra leaned into the man's face. "You haven't seen what these domes can do. I have. We may need Morgan to get us past them."

Frowning, Makasa stepped to the bedside and brushed a strand of Morgan's face. Ravindra fought down the jealousy. She'd never be interested in this tub of lard, regardless of what he might want.

"Do your best, Tullamarran," Ravindra said. "Admiral, you and I need to strap in."

They passed back through the common room, where Eastly sat in an acceleration chair, his head on the rest, his eyes closed. Misery radiated from him.

With his mental fingers crossed, Ravindra strapped in. A clunk reverberated through the hull as
Vulsaur
backed out and turned.

Shattered ships and floating debris surrounded the stricken warship. Ushas hung in the distance, hopefully far enough away so that most of this junk would not affect her. Bits of blue plasma showed that not all the domes had survived. Three of them were attacking a troop transport a few klicks away to port. Another transport drifted not far away, black and silent, tumbling end over end.
Maximus's
side loomed above them, the hull battered but still intact. Fighters still streaked through space, weapons firing.

Davaskar completed the pivot and hit the thrusters, sending
Vulsaur
away from the battleship.

"Uh-oh. Looks like we've attracted hostiles," the captain said.

Ravindra checked the screens. Yes. Three of the domes had diverted. They couldn't win against so many. If Morgan was here… But she wasn't. If you couldn't beat them, couldn't run, then you had to buy time. Survive the battle so you could win the war.

"Duck in behind some debris, Davaskar, and turn on the cloaking device." The crew had practiced the maneuver, the one they'd called 'playing dead'. It was the same technology Morgan had used to hide Partridge's sub from prying sensors.

Davaskar dodged around to the tumbling transport's side, and matched the movement, joining in a macabre dance, end over end. A hole gaped in the dead ship's side. Fragments of ship, and fragments of body, tumbled together.

"What are you doing?" Makasa asked.

Ravindra told him. The fat man's forehead glistened, but he didn't seem to be afraid. Then again, you could say that about all of the crew, too.

The domes moved closer, the ominous lights around their fringes flickering. One approached. The two hanging back extruded their gun turrets or whatever you might want to call them. If the things didn't fall for the ruse, they were targets in a shooting gallery.

A movement in the hatch caught Ravindra's attention, and he turned. His heart leapt. Morgan. She hung on to the bulkhead with one hand. The bruise almost glowed against her skin, a faded tan instead of the usual golden sheen.

Tullamarran hovered behind her. "She insisted," he whispered.

She stumbled forward, grasping the back of Jirra's navigator's chair to steady herself.

"Morgan, you belong in the sick bay." Makasa strained toward her against the grip of the harness.

Dropping into the engineer's chair, Morgan managed a grin. "Not much good if we're all dead. Speaking of which… we're playing dead?"

"Yes." From Davaskar.

"Gives me a chance to get a better feel for what they are," she murmured. "Nothing alive. I don't think. No pilot. Oh, fuck."

Ravindra saw it, a little after she did. The mother ship.
Vulsaur
tumbled with the dead transport, and the ominous cigar approached. Closer it came and closer, until the vessel almost filled the screen. Unlike the domes, its hull wasn't smooth. Lumps and bumps covered the surface, with no sign of a straight line. Lights like those around the fringes of the domes shimmered in a few places, what they did, he had no idea. He'd never seen a ship like this. Totally alien, unlike the model ships he and Morgan had seen in the laboratory, or anywhere else. Was this another of his long-lost ancestor's experiments?

He ran his tongue over his dry lips. Whatever it was, either the mother ship hadn't believed the ruse, or it wanted to be certain. Ravindra sent a silent prayer to Kotluk. You never knew.

Davaskar was rigid in his chair, his lips pressed together. A bead of sweat traced a path down the side of Makasa's face and disappeared into the stiff collar.

Morgan let out a long, gusting breath. "Stand easy. It's closing in on the battleship. I fear
Maximus
hasn't got long to go." She looked first at Makasa, and then at him. "When that ship blows, we're not far enough away and the shields aren't good enough. I'm going machine meld. I'm going to need everything I've got to get us out of here, past those domes, or we're history."

"Morgan, wait." Makasa raised a hand, the gold ring on every finger glinting. "Listen to me, Ravindra. This is very dangerous for her. We don't recommend machine meld for any but fit Supertechs. We could lose her."

"Relax, Makasa," Morgan said. "If we don't win this little battle right here, we won't have a chance to win the war." She made eye contact with Ravindra. "Whatever happens, Ashkar, I love you."

Ravindra's eyes prickled. She'd never said anything like that in public before.

Morgan lay back in the captain's chair, took one deep breath and then it was as if she was dead.

"All hands, make sure your harnesses are secure. This might get a little bit rugged." The voice that spoke through
Vulsaur's
systems was hers.

Makasa gritted his teeth.

"You've never been a combat commander, have you, Admiral?" Ravindra said.

The thick nostrils flared. "We all have our parts to play. Combat was not mine."

"Some combat decisions are difficult. She made it for you. Pray she got it right."
And comes back. Please
.

"I don't know how it came to this. I don't know where those… things… came from. I don't know how we're going to fight them. I've lost two Supertechs out here. I don't want to make it three." Makasa's Adam's apple bobbed.

"If it's any consolation, she designed this ship herself, and oversaw its construction. If she can't get us out of this, nobody can."

"And that's a fact," Davaskar said.

The ship still tumbled with the rest of the debris. Ravindra kept an eye on the screens. With each rotation, he got a view of the mother ship now closing in on
Maximus
. The battleship didn't look too bad, except for a few jagged holes. But then, ships didn't burn in space. If he'd had any doubt, though, the small transports hurrying away from the shattered superstructure, like ants from a log, told the story. They'd abandoned ship.

What was Morgan waiting for?

The engines roared into life.
Vulsaur
thrust hard up, loosed a missile at the wreckage that had disguised her, then shot away. Even with the acceleration shielding, his head was pushed back into the seat. Beyond the shattered transport,
Maximus
erupted. He grinned. She'd cut it fine but only someone like her could be so precise.

"Domes ahead," Davaskar said.

Ravindra concentrated on his breathing, slowing down his heart rate. There was nothing he could do but hang on. Makasa's fingers clutched at his seat, although the man appeared to be calm otherwise. But then, such behavior was expected of senior officers, wasn't it? The sensors in the crew cabin showed Eastly was too miserable to be frightened. Prasad and Tullamarran were stoic, as always.

The harness tightened across Ravindra's body as the ship dropped. A moment later his back was forced down into the chair. Then a sideways move that would have thrown him to the floor had he not been strapped in.

Makasa gasped out a breath.

"When she said it might get rough…" Davasakar clenched his teeth as the ship jolted again, "she certainly meant it."

A blast of energy grazed the shields, leaving a trail of fading blue.
Vulsaur's
engines roared. The console flashed warnings, then, "
Switching to shift drive
."

The flashing lights switched off. The roar disappeared, replaced by the higher pitched hum of the shift drive. Ravindra refused to sigh with relief, however much he felt like it. He flicked the switch to withdraw the harness, and stepped over to Morgan.

"Well done, my love. You can come back, now."

No answer. Makasa stood beside him, stinking of sweat. His heart hammering, Ravindra took Morgan's wrist. Yes, a pulse beat, strong and slow.

"She's gone too far." Makasa bent over and patted her cheek. "Morgan… Morgan."

But the only response was a slight rolling of her head.

"What do you mean, she's gone too far?" Ravindra asked.

Eyes as hard as stone stared at him. "I warned you this might happen. It's seductive for them, this machine meld. The large implant in their heads takes over from their human mind. It's as if they're part of the ship. It's how she could make those split-second decisions, how she could push the engines within an ace of too far. More than one Supertech has told me they've had to force themselves out of it, back to their bodies."

"And her body? What runs that?"

"Her human mind is still there, running her body. But the computer part doesn't care. In fact, I think the computer part knows her body is injured and doesn't want to go there."

"How do we bring her back?"

Makasa's lips twisted into a parody of a smile. "Don't ask me. She has to want to come back. Once, a Supertech was very badly injured, and died. One other instance was recorded, where a Supertech was injured, but returned eventually."

The ships' alarms signaled a return to real space. Morgan had programmed a very short hop. Ravindra stretched out an arm to steady himself as the forward thrusters slowed the ship. A reddish gas giant, multi-colored streaks of cloud covering its surface, appeared in the screens. A moon orbited not far away. He had no idea where they were and right now it didn't matter.

Ravindra gazed down at Morgan. She looked lovely, her features relaxed in sleep, her hair like a halo around her head. What would make her want to come back? One thing came to mind.