Prison Ship
Authors: Michael Bowers
Steiner drew his AT-7 and fired at the supports under the shelves that lined the rear wall. The structure collapsed, raining bottles down on the two figures that bolted upward. The assassins covered their heads, trying to protect themselves from the descending wave of glass and liquors. A wooden piece from the shelves sparked from Steiner’s blasts. Flames burst out around the two men, exploding upward, consuming the falling liquids in flight.
The heat from the sudden eruption forced Steiner to shield his face. He stumbled back in surprise. Never had he expected such a reaction from low-alcoholic substances, unless—
One of the burning assassins aimed a gun. A bolt from Steiner’s AT-7 ripped through the man’s chest before he could open fire. The lifeless body sank into a flaming grave.
Before Steiner had a chance to seek out the other assassin, he saw something being swung at him from a corner of his vision. He ducked, but not in time to avoid being clipped in the shoulder by a chair. The force of the blow threw him to the floor. When he collided with the cold unyielding surface, he lost hold of his weapon …
2435: Six years after the start of the Galactic Civil War
“BATTLE stations,” McKillip barked as he stepped into the command center.
Commander Jacob Steiner activated the alarm and watched from his console as each deck of their vessel, the U.S.S.
Valiant
, acknowledged the alert. He glanced up at McKillip, who strolled through the command staff, monitoring them as they prepared the ship for combat. At six feet two, the fifty-nine-year-old captain stood three inches taller than Steiner and possessed the strength of a man twenty years younger. Around his waist, he wore a sash in his family pattern, with an embroidered crest as a tribute to his sto ried ancestry. His dark, silver-streaked beard dominated his wrinkled face, creating an aura of fatherly wisdom that Steiner found most appealing about the man. Steiner had grown his own sandy-colored beard in the hope that it looked half as dignified.
“Lieutenant Riggs, plot a course into Sector 489, deep into enemy space,” McKillip finally announced.
Suzanne Riggs shot Steiner a fiery glance. She had never liked surprises. She prided herself on staying in the loop, but Steiner was in the dark as much as she was. A slight shrug of his shoulders confirmed that when she looked his way inquiringly. Pursing her lips together, she spun back to her console and worked furiously at her assigned task.
McKillip stepped up to Steiner. “Activate the ship’s intercom.”
Steiner opened a channel to the hundred other crew members on board.
The captain took a deep breath. “We have been ordered into Sector 489 of enemy space to assist the
Excalibur
and the
Cheyenne
, both returning from a reconnaissance mission. It will be dangerous because of all the enemy activity in the area.” McKillip’s gaze froze on Steiner as he closed the intercom. “These orders came from
him
,” McKillip whispered.
Steiner knew instantly whom he was referring to, Admiral Ralph Jamison on the War Council. Their history with the admiral had begun six years ago, right before the Galactic Civil War broke out. Back then, when loyalties were divided among the officers of the United Star Systems, it looked more and more likely that the democratic planetary union would fall to the Separatists’ New Order Empire without a fight. Captain McKillip had begun forming a close-knit team of officers he knew would not be tempted by Separatist bribes. A student of history, he’d called this newly formed covert team the Cyrian Defense, after Cyrus the Great’s un-challenged, overnight conquest of Babylonia—the exact fate he worried awaited the U.S.S. McKillip had asked Steiner to join his undercover team, and they had succeeded in exposing a massive conspiracy and preventing an assassination attempt on the President of the United Star Systems. By chance, Admiral Jamison had had a peripheral involvement in the operation, and he had exaggerated his role and assumed all the credit, making himself a national hero. Happy to keep the profile of the members of the Cyrian Defense low, McKillip had remained silent as Congress and the president promoted Admiral Jamison to Chief Military Officer of the U.S.S. Fleet.
But then the New Order Empire had attacked. In the after-math of the Day of Betrayal, as the attack became known, Jamison showed his true colors. He did little to stop the rampant piracy plaguing a hobbled fleet, and when a cruise ship of civilians was taken hostage, McKillip sent a team, which infiltrated the vessel, freed the captives, and captured the leader of the pirates. But after being convicted in U.S.S. courts, the man received a pardon from President Lindsey at the behest of Admiral Jamison without any explanation. Since then, McKillip had made it his personal mission to use all his remaining contacts to collect any evidence connecting Jamison to the pirating ring. He blamed himself for enabling Jamison to become a leech on the United Star Systems.
And now Jamison was giving them orders.
“Do you think he knows you’ve been investigating him?” Steiner whispered.
McKillip stood confidently in the middle of the command center, meeting each uncertain glance by the crew members around him as they prepared for battle. He replied softly, his eyes averted, “Well, if the
Excalibur
and the
Cheyenne
are not there, we’ll know for certain.”
“Have you notified Judith?” Steiner asked, referring to McKillip’s wife.
“She’ll deliver my files to the rest of the War Council if anything happens to us.”
“Course plotted, sir,” Suzanne called out.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Commander, inform the crew.”
“All stations, prepare for a starspeed jump,” Steiner announced over the ship’s intercom. His stomach tightened in expectation of the dimensional shift about to occur. He had never quite become accustomed to it. His hands tightened on the console, yet he willed his facial muscles to show none of his inner anxiety. Barely audible whines could be heard around the command center as the crew activated the energy-stasis fields securing them to their seats. McKillip strolled to his command chair and activated his.
“Phase to starspeed,” McKillip said.
Steiner clenched his console tightly. The stars in the viewports disappeared as his insides lurched. His vision blurred. He swallowed hard to keep the bile from coming up his throat. Slowly, his stomach began to relax, and his vision cleared.
“Phase successful,” Riggs announced.
The star field flashed briefly every few seconds as Suzanne phased the ship back and forth in a rapid succession of short hops, directing their path toward enemy space.
As Steiner stared at the hypnotic flickers on the viewscreen, his thoughts drifted to how tragic it would be if this mission was to be their last. All the efforts they had made to preserve the Union might be rewarded with death by the hand of a criminal they had unknowingly helped into power. Steiner glanced down at the white-gold ring on his finger. If death did await him, at least Mary would be there waiting for him. On February 18, 2429, six months before the Day of Betrayal, a tragic accident had stolen his wife away from him, forever. The white-gold ring on Steiner’s finger began to feel heavier and heavier. Steiner closed his eyes, remembering the scent of her perfume. Her emerald eyes glistened at him as she pulled back her dark hair to reveal the star-shaped earrings that he had given her to celebrate his promotion to Executive Officer. Her musical voice penetrated his being, melting all his defenses. “If you miss your own child’s birth, Commander, I’ll make sure you’re court-martialed.” She lifted his hand and kissed his wedding band. “I love you.” She headed toward the shuttle on the launching pad, touching his hand with hers until their fingertips lost contact.