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  He wondered what had changed, that she was willing to share such things. Perhaps it was that they had faced this last situation as a team. He had become, in a small way, someone who had shared an ugly situation. Someone who might understand choices driven by necessity.

  Eventually, the bottle nearly empty, Carmen’s voice drifted off to a murmur, and she laid her head on the table. Lochan got her up and into bed, making sure she was safe before going to his own room.

  Once there, tired as he was, Lochan sat for a long time gazing at nothing. He had plenty of memories from his earlier life as well, not all of them pleasant, but nothing as bad as what Carmen Ochoa had endured. It had never before occurred to him how lucky he had been to be born and raised on Franklin. Not that Franklin was perfect. Like any other home of humanity, it had its better parts and its worse parts. But nowhere in Franklin’s star system was there anything like the hellhole that Mars had become.

  But that could happen out here, he realized. Even as apparently tranquil a place as Kosatka could be warped by internal and external pressures and mistakes, heading down that long road paved with good intentions that too often led to the same place where Mars was stuck. Stars like Apulu were already seeing what they could get away with, someone’s warship had bombarded Lares for no apparent reason, and Lochan couldn’t shake the memory of those corporate colonies that had gone far, far out to stars distant from anyone who could interfere with them. What sort of places would they become, especially if they joined together? Carmen Ochoa had good cause for her worries.

  “I’ve been looking for somewhere,” Lochan said out loud, speaking either to himself or to the planet as a whole or maybe to something bigger than that. He wasn’t sure which. “Why not here? And if I’m going to fail again, why not fail trying to do something big? Something important? More important than me, anyway. Something that might prevent more kids from having to grow up like Carmen did, or like those three killers did. Something that might save lives.”

  Lochan sighed, looking down at the hand that had held the shocker. “I’m not a warrior who can carry weapons. Both times I’ve held one, it’s felt . . . alien. Wrong for me. But people can fight in other ways, using other weapons. I’m going to fight for Kosatka. And maybe help Kosatka fight for others.”

  There was no one in the room to answer, at least no one he could see or any answer he could hear. But he finally went to bed, feeling more at peace than at any time he could remember.

  • • •

  Everything that Rob Geary had ever heard about Kosatka, which admittedly wasn’t that much, indicated that it was a peaceful star system, with a colony planted several years earlier and growing at a rapid pace as humanity spread across Kosatka’s primary world just as it was spreading through neighboring stars.

  Which was why Rob Geary wasn’t surprised when Squall left jump space and encountered no one guarding the spot. Ships serving as sentries at jump points happened in the Old Colonies, usually using spacecraft whose primary mission was customs enforcement rather than war, but it wasn’t something that star systems diverted resources to in the new colonies.

  The peaceful façade of Kosatka crumbled as soon they picked up a local newscast. Rob watched the reports in disbelief, seeing the images of battered Lares, the unmistakable craters from orbital bombardment pocking the surface, the craters surrounded by tangled wreckage that had once been a fast-rising new city for a new colony.

  “Who did that?” Danielle Martel asked, sounding as shocked as Rob. “That ship they’re showing is not one of the warships that Scatha has. And Lares is jumps away from Scatha.”

  “This is old news here,” Rob said. “Kosatka heard about this weeks ago. These reports are just rehashing the original information and speculating.”

  “What do we do?” Drake Porter asked. “Shouldn’t we go back to Glenlyon right away? What if that ship shows up at our star system?”

  Rob felt the fear racing through his crew and knew he had to bring it to a halt. “We have a job here that is about protecting Glenlyon,” he said. “We need to do that job. We need to deliver our message and see if we can get a response from Kosatka. Then we will return to Glenlyon and defend it from threats like that. Drake, am I ready to transmit to the primary world? We’d better let them know right away who we are.”

  That world was, Rob saw, currently over four light hours distant. “Right away” meant Kosatka wouldn’t hear his message for four hours, but since they also wouldn’t see the arrival of Squall for that same period of time, a quick message should reassure Kosatka about Squall’s intentions.

  “Uh, just a sec. Yeah. You’re ready.”

  Still rattled by the news of what had happened at Lares, Rob composed himself, trying to look both professional and nonthreatening. “This is Lieutenant Robert Geary of the Glenlyon warship Squall. We are here on a peaceful mission to request Kosatka’s assistance. I repeat, we pose no threat to the people of Kosatka. We urgently request communications with your government, so that I can transmit to them a plea for help from the government of Glenlyon.”

  He was about to end the transmission when Rob remembered something from the news reports about Lares, about the mystery warship approaching their planet. “To ensure that our peaceful intent is clear, Squall will not proceed any closer to your worlds but will remain in the vicinity of this jump point. Geary, out.”

  “What are we going to do while we wait?” Drake asked.

  Rob slumped back, knowing that it would be at least eight hours before he heard anything in reply from Kosatka. “We’re going to stay here and wait, just like I said.”

  After doing what little else could be done, Rob went to his stateroom. He didn’t know what local time was at the city on the planet where he had sent his message, but Squall had arrived late in the day for the ship.

  He couldn’t shake the memories of those awful images from Lares. Rob wondered if he would be able to sleep.

  • • •

  Rob was awakened by an insistent beeping from the comm panel next to his bunk. “Yeah?” He squinted at the time on the ship—0300. Of course. Emergencies always happened at an hour like that.

  “We’ve received some messages from Kosatka,” Drake reported. “Sorry. You told me to wake you up when any came in.”

  “Yeah,” Rob repeated, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. “Forward them to here, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  Drake’s face vanished, replaced by that of a very hard-faced man speaking in very hard tones. “Unknown warship, this is Kosatka. You are forbidden to proceed in-system. Any attempt to approach our worlds will be regarded as a hostile act. Identify yourself immediately!”

  It wasn’t the nicest greeting that Rob had ever received, but understandable given the circumstances.

  He called up the second message, sent soon after the first. This time the man looked slightly less rigid, his voice not quite as threatening. “Lieutenant Geary on the Glenlyon warship Squall, this is Kosatka. I have forwarded your message to the First Minister’s office. Kosatka appreciates your willingness to remain near the jump point and hopes that you will continue to abide by that promise.”

  Rob rubbed his face, grimaced, and called up the latest information that Squall’s sensors had been able to pick up since arriving at Kosatka.

  There was still no sign of any other warship in this star system. No other defenses had been identified. Either Kosatka had done an amazing job of concealing all of its warships and other weaponry, or the threats he had just received had been bluffs.

  Not that he was interested in calling those bluffs. Gaining the cooperation of Kosatka wouldn’t happen if he played games with their very real fears stoked by what had happened at Lares.

  “Lieutenant?” Drake Porter again, looking apologetic. “The guys standing watch on the weapons want to know if they can stand down from that.”

&n
bsp; Rob almost said yes because he knew from personal experience how tedious combat watches in a nonthreat environment could be.

  But he hesitated before giving that order. Squall was a warship. And she was on a combat mission. And they were close to a jump point, which was just about the only kind of place within space where a spaceship could be surprised by a sudden new arrival. “No. Drake, I understand it’s a pain, but we are in combat status. We have to stay ready if anything shows up. And if anybody complains, I’ll remind them that I’m standing those watches, too.”

  Another reply showed up at 0500 ship time. The speaker this time was a wary-looking woman. “I am Safety Coordinator Sarkozy speaking for Kosatka. Please send your message in reply to this. We want to know more about what is happening at Glenlyon. I have to caution you that Kosatka’s resources are currently extremely limited, so our ability to assist you may also be very restricted. Out.”

  Rob, giving up on getting any more sleep, especially since he was due for a bridge watch at 0600, tabbed reply and attached the message the council of Glenlyon had put together. He paused before hitting SEND, took a few moments to make himself look presentable, then added something to the reply. “This is Lieutenant Geary. Thank you for your willingness to hear the message from the government of Glenlyon. I look forward to your reply. I was asked to notify two individuals who may be in Kosatka of our problems in the hopes that they might offer assistance. Those two are . . . Lochan Nakamura and Carmen Ochoa. Thank you again. Out.”

  He stood up, yawning, made sure his improvised uniform looked right, and headed for the bridge. The short passageway to the bridge from his stateroom seemed even quieter than usual.

  He was almost there when the rapid bong of the general quarters alarm shattered the silence.

  Chapter 11

  Already on his way, Rob raced the last few steps and through the hatch onto the bridge. “What is it?”

  Drake Porter, in the midst of being relieved from his watch, stared at Rob in confusion.

  Rob dropped into his command seat and called up his display. As he was cursing the seconds needed for the display to boot up, Danielle Martel came running onto the bridge and flung herself at the operations watch station.

  “Another ship just arrived!” Drake finally got out.

  “Shut off the general quarters alarm and pass the word for everyone to get to their battle stations,” Rob ordered.

  His display finally steadied.

  A destroyer?

  “A warship arrived at the jump point,” Danielle confirmed. “One light minute away. It’s . . . sir, it’s a Warrior Class destroyer.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in. “Warrior Class?” Rob questioned. “The same class of ship that bombarded Lares?”

  “Yes,” Danielle confirmed. “Old, but still dangerous. And he’s not broadcasting any identification. Just like the one that hit Lares.”

  This wasn’t his battle. Squall wasn’t here to defend Kosatka. In fact, Rob’s orders didn’t even mention what he should do if he encountered a threat.

  It took him less than a second to realize that none of that mattered. Rob punched his comm control. “Unknown warship, this is Glenlyon Cutter Squall. Identify yourself immediately.”

  He cut the transmission and turned to Danielle. “Full combat readiness. Get all weapons powered up, shields at maximum, notify engineering that we will need full output from the power core.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  While Danielle Martel took care of that, Rob called up the maneuvering display, designated the unknown destroyer, and tapped the intercept command.

  A moment later, the solution appeared, a pretty short, pretty flat curve that would bring the Squall close to the destroyer in a bow-to-bow pass. Words appeared. EXECUTE INTERCEPT? YES. NO.

  “What’s our status?” Rob asked Danielle.

  “Weapons are ready. Shields are building. Most combat stations ready. Engineering warns that we need to save full draw on the power core until we really need it.”

  “Understand,” Rob said. “Drake, anything from the destroyer?”

  “No,” Drake said, looking worried. “Not a peep.”

  Rob took a slow breath, studying what the display told him. Warrior Class destroyer. Nearly a century old. Standard armament included a bombardment launcher, a grapeshot launcher, and a particle beam a generation behind that on the Squall.

  “It’s roughly even odds if we engage him,” Danielle said. “Our sensors say his after shields are degraded.”

  The destroyer had steadied out on a course aiming in-system, toward the primary world of Kosatka. Squall’s maneuvering system automatically updated the intercept solution for Rob.

  EXECUTE INTERCEPT? YES. NO.

  Squall was the only warship that Glenlyon had. He couldn’t afford to get Squall too badly damaged.

  But the destroyer must also know that this would be a nearly equal fight. And whoever controlled that ship, whichever star system it had come from, surely didn’t want to lose it. Especially since examining who and what was on that ship would allow blame to be fixed for the devastation at Lares.

  “If we come around in a long approach—” Danielle began.

  “I know,” Rob said. “But we need to try to win this fight fast, without exchanging fire. Maybe they don’t want a fight.”

  “Maybe they do.”

  “Then they’ll get one. Tell engineering I need full power and make sure forward shields are at full strength.”

  He reached out and touched YES.

  Squall’s thrusters fired, pitching her around, then the main propulsion kicked in, hurling Squall toward the destroyer. The aging inertial dampers on the cutter whined in protest as the structure of the ship groaned from the stress. Rob hung on to his seat as acceleration forces leaked past the dampers.

  The destroyer was moving at point zero three light speed. Squall was coming up to point zero four light speed. With just less than a light minute separating them, at a combined velocity of point zero seven light, the two ships would cover the roughly eighteen million kilometers between them in a minute and a half.

  “Lock weapons on the destroyer,” Rob ordered Danielle. “Set them to fire when we get within range.”

  “Yes, sir. Getting hits at a relative velocity of point zero seven light speed is outside the capability of our fire control system.”

  “He may not know that.” Still no message from the destroyer. The slim barracuda shape was just off Squall’s port bow and slightly below, Squall aiming for the point where the destroyer would be in another minute and five seconds.

  “He should be seeing our course change now,” Danielle reported. “Thirty-five seconds to intercept. Sir, you’re not giving him much time to react.”

  “I want him to know that,” Rob said. “I want the cowards who bombarded a defenseless city to know that we are coming for them and that they only have a few seconds to decide what to do.”

  “He’s maneuvering!” Danielle said at the same moment as Rob’s own display alerted him.

  Twenty seconds before the ships came within weapons range of each other. What was the destroyer doing? Altering course to better engage Squall?

  “He’s using full thrust,” Danielle reported. “Still coming up and around.”

  Rob frantically entered new commands, shifting Squall to come up and over slightly so she was still aiming to intercept the destroyer.

  “He’s lighting off main propulsion!”

  The destroyer’s maneuvers had brought it in a long curve upward, its bow now almost facing back toward the jump point.

  Rob had two seconds before intercept as he ordered Squall to adjust her own course again.

  What would have been a bow-to-bow encounter, with both ships having their strongest shields and weapons facing each other, had changed as the destroyer turned away
. With so little time to react, and unable to accelerate out of danger fast enough, the destroyer had ended up presenting her vulnerable stern to Squall as the cutter swept past.

  Squall lurched as her weapons fired under the control of the automated systems, the moment of closest point of approach coming and going in a tiny fraction of a second too short for human reflexes to have pressed firing commands.

  Rob entered another set of maneuvering commands, bringing Squall back around to hit the destroyer again, but this time the solution was accompanied by a pulsing red warning message. PLANNED MANEUVER WILL EXCEED HULL STRESS PARAMETERS. EXECUTE ANYWAY? YES. NO.

  “Hell,” Rob muttered, ordering the new intercept to take place using less extreme maneuvers that wouldn’t threaten to destroy Squall. The arc of the new intercept doubled, and the time to new intercept grew even more, but he punched approve for the new solution. It made little sense to try to reengage the destroyer at the cost of tearing Squall apart.

  “We’re getting an evaluation of damage,” Danielle reported. “Some grapeshot from the destroyer impacted our forward shields, but they held. The destroyer . . . his after shields suffered spot failures! We scored some hits aft on him!”

  The crew whooped with triumph, but Rob bent to look at his display. “Our sensors can’t evaluate damage to him. What do you think, Danielle?”

  “Let me check something.” Her hands flew across her display. “His thrust is down to sixty percent maximum for what a ship of that class should be capable of. He demonstrated eighty percent maximum coming out of the jump point.”

  “We did hurt him,” Rob said.

  “Yes. Not enough, though.”

  It didn’t take him any thought to realize what Danielle meant. The destroyer had steadied out heading back for the jump point on the quickest possible trajectory. Squall was swinging through her long loop to reengage, but the projected intercept was past the jump point.