Starbound (9 page)

“Brace for impact!” yelled Dobrina.

I did as I was trained to do, crouching at my station, my heart pounding in my chest, saying a silent prayer to Gods I never talked to that the Hoagland Field would come up in
time.

A
minute
later I had managed
to get myself up off
my ass and back to
my longscope station
.
Starbound
was stil
l in one piece, and
the space station wh
ere so many of the m
en and women under m
y command had died w
as gone from Jenarus
space, hopefully fo
r good.

Dobrina was doing her job, moving rapidly around the bridge, going from station to station, demanding reports on damage, injuries, and systems status. Maclintock was at his chair, the calm in the center of the storm. Serosian was busy pouring over a data stream of telemetry on his viewer that was incomprehensible to me. I, for my part, gave my final situation report to the captain.

“The station has left the Jenarus system, sir. No sign of it or its HD signature on any of my monitors, sir,” I said.

“Good riddance,” replied Maclintock. A few more minutes passed before Maclintock was satisfied that we were really back to normal with no serious casualties, or at least back to nominal. The displacement wave had hit us but we were lucky, or at least good enough at our jobs that the Hoagland Field rebooted in time to protect us from the
more harmful effects of an HD displacement wave. Effects such as, for instance, a horrible burning death.

After another ten minutes Serosian, Dobrina, Maclintock, and I were back in the staff room, there to discuss what had just happened. Dobrina reported first.

“The energy weapons array is offline, thanks to Lieutenant Commander Cochrane. Coil cannons, cutting lasers, antitorpedo batteries,” she stated. Maclintock looked to me and then back to his stoic XO.

“What do you mean, offline?” he asked. Dobrina gave me a quick glance, then continued.

“The commander shut down the entire energy weapons array, sir, to zero, rather than just shutting off the gravity weapon,” she said. “The result is that those systems have all gone cold and have to be refired from zero, sir.”

“How long will that take?”

“Eighteen hours is the standard protocol, sir,” Dobrina said. Maclintock turned to me.

“Why?”

I straightened up in my chair. “Sir, shutting down the entire energy weapons array saved us approximately three seconds. As the situation was, we couldn't guarantee that the gravity projector would completely shut down in time for us to refire the Hoagland Field,” I stated. Maclintock looked to Serosian.

“He's correct,” said the Historian. “By taking this action he saved the ship almost two point eight seconds, enough to guarantee that we would have our Hoagland Field back up before the displacement wave hit. It was a viable option.”

“But not one you presented to me,” said Maclintock. Serosian merely nodded. Maclintock turned back to me.

“On what initiative did you take this action, Commander?”

“On my prerogative as longscope officer, sir. Under the circumstances I have the authority to take unilateral action to protect the
ship. Also, technically, the longscope officer reports to the Historian, sir. Not to you,” I said, taking a page from Dobrina's book and staying as stoic and professional as I could.

“But you left the ship defenseless,” stated Dobrina.

“I deemed the immediate threat of the HD displacement wave to be our greatest concern, XO,” I replied. She crinkled her nose a bit at that, but said nothing more. Then Maclintock chimed in.

“You're correct, Commander, you do have the authority to take unilateral action when the ship is in danger, but a bit of advance warning would have been appreciated,” said Maclintock.

“Understood, sir,” I said.

“In the end, you did the right thing for the ship, Commander Cochrane. But we're in a tough position without our energy weapons array.” He turned back to Dobrina. “You may as well get started with the refire, XO. In the meantime, what other defenses do we have available?”

“Our full complement of two hundred atomic torpedoes, sir. Plus some kinetic energy weapons that we could roll out of mothballs,” she said. He nodded.

“Proceed with preparations on all fronts, XO. We are still in what is possibly hostile space and we are severely down on armament. I want all our torpedo tubes loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice. No telling what else may be lurking out there. And maintain yellow alert, but stand down from battle stations.”

“Aye, sir,” she replied.

“What's the condition of the Hoagland Field?” he asked her.

“Lieutenant Layton tells me that we came out okay, but suffered some system overloads. She's running at sixty-five percent efficiency at the moment, but the lieutenant says she'll likely need service again when we get back to Candle,” said Dobrina.

“Christ, we just left there!” said Maclintock, clearly frustrated. “How long for service on the field?”

“He recommended two weeks at Candle, sir.”

Maclintock swore again and then turned to me.

“Last point of business, Commander. I'm relieving you from your shift for the rest of the day and confining you to quarters. You've been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. I want you to rest and recuperate and do nothing else until your regular shift begins in the morning,” he said. “Hell, you can get drunk if you want to. But I want you to
rest
, Commander. Understood?”

I shook my head negatively. “Am I being punished, sir?” I asked. Now Maclintock shook his head.

“No, Commander. I'm only thinking of giving you time off to process all the recent events on this mission. I know if I don't force you, you won't take the time. But I insist that you do. I hope it will give you a better perspective in the morning,” he said.

“Aye, sir,” I replied. Maclintock turned to the silent Serosian. “Anything to add to the proceedings, Mr. Serosian?”

The Historian looked at Maclintock. “Just that Commander Cochrane's actions did save us precious time and possibly saved
Starbound
from serious damage and heavy casualties. And I did not think of his solution myself in the crisis. He should be commended for that.”

“Noted,” said the captain, then looked once more around the room. “If there's nothing else?” No one said anything more, and I certainly wasn't going to open my mouth again. “Dismissed,” he said with a nod, then everyone stood and left the room, except me. I lingered a moment, sat back down, put a hand to my head and sighed. I was tired.

I spent most of my afternoon off napping while the rest of the crew got us underway back to the Jenarus jump space tunnel. I dreamt of Horlock and especially Private Jensen. Her death disturbed me. I'd never been touching a person at the moment they died, even through
an EVA suit. Deaths had happened at the Academy, and in the military it was always a possibility. But I'd never been this close, physically, and my dreams were haunted with how her body felt in my hand. One instant vibrant and alive, the next cold and unmoving.

I shook myself out of my disturbing slumber and made for my cabin workstation. I scanned through my duty reports on the ship's com system, but nothing really required my attention. After our altercations and such heavy human losses, the First Contact mission here at Jenarus was on hold until
Starb
ound
could get repaired. Again.

I was about to order dinner when I got an entry request chime at my cabin door. I looked at my watch to confirm that the day shift had ended. I figured it was Dobrina, but the last thing I wanted was her company, especially if it came with a lecture. I went to the door and hit the wall com, using the privacy protocol that kept the two-way visual display off.

“Not now, Commander. Let me lick my wounds in private,” I said. There was a pause before the reply, and it wasn't Dobrina.

“Request you open the door, sir.” It was the deep and scratchy voice of my friend John Marker. I opened the door to see both him and Layton in the hall. “Thought you might need some cheering up, sir,” said Marker, holding out a dark amber bottle that had no label. I nodded to them both.

“Come in gentlemen,” I said.

We gathered around my sparse table and Marker poured into three glasses I pulled from my display cabinet. They'd been one of the many gifts I'd been given on my graduation from the Lightship Academy, what seemed like ages ago. Marker raised his glass. Layton and I followed suit.

“To our lost comrades, proper marines, all,” Marker said. “May we fare as well when we die.” I recognized the unofficial Marine motto.

“May we fare as well when we die,” Layton and I repeated in unison. Then we clinked our glasses and drank. It was Quantar scotch,
and it was harsh and bitter, much like we all felt, I was sure. I looked at my two companions, young men who had attached their military careers to my own. Right now it seemed like a questionable choice to me.

“I assume we'll get replacements when we arrive at Candle, sir?” asked Marker in a quiet tone. I nodded.

“Replacements, as well as new shuttles,” I said.

“We can replace the numbers, but not the people,” Marker said. Layton nodded in agreement. A silence descended on us then, each of us in turn thinking about the losses we had suffered.

“How well did you know Private Jensen?” I asked Marker, breaking the silence. He took another drink of his scotch before answering.

“Aydra? Well enough. She was energetic, there was a real spark about her. She was good at everything she tried. First class. I told her more than once she should aspire to be more than just a grunt, but she loved it. Loved the training, the physicality of it,” he said. Then his gaze got distant and his eyes turned red.

“Something more, John?” I asked gently. He drank again before replying.

“She was a vibrant lover, sir, and I'm not ashamed to say it.”

“You shouldn't be, John, we're all human.”

“Her more than most,” said Marker. “I try to minimize my associations with women under my command, but she was . . . something special, and damned insistent!” He cracked a pained smile and then emptied his glass. I thought about her last moments, John and I holding her by either arm as we struggled to get down the lifter shaft to the station deck, away from the automatons . . .

“How are Colonel Babayan and Verhunce handling it?” I asked. Marker shrugged.

“Lena's a stone wall. Verhunce is tough, but we're all suffering a good dose of survivor's guilt,” he said. I hadn't had any time yet to sort through my own feelings of guilt and remorse, but the scotch was quickly forcing them out. I drained my glass before continuing.

“Keep me apprised of their performance. And best to put Verhunce on light duty for a while,” I said.

“Already done,” replied Marker.

I put my empty glass down on the table, my buried feelings coming at me now regardless of my desire to resist them. I was glad I was with not just fellow officers, but with friends. I rubbed my hands through my hair, looking down at the table as if I could bore a hole through it with my eyes.

“This is dirty business. Thirty-three dead out of thirty-seven . . .” I trailed off as the impact of those numbers started to hit me. Thirty-three men and women under my command, dead. Thirty-three people who had lives just like Private Aydra Jensen, or Private Kevin Horlock, killed in a fight that we probably never should have started by going up that shaft. Killed because I wanted to explore a possible Founder Relic, to satisfy my own curiosity.

“It's my fault,” I said, sighing and leaning back in my chair. “We never should have gone up after that power source.”

It was the usually quiet Layton who took issue with my self-loathing assessment. “We're out here to explore, Peter. Finding out what was happening on that station is what we were all trained to do. You followed protocols and you followed orders,” he said. I shook my head.