Stars of Blood and Glory (26 page)

“
Commander Sakaguchi of
the
Roppongi
, ready sir.”

“
Commander Hideyoshi of
the
Kurefune
, reporting.”

“
Commander Ishihara of the
Sagami
, sir.”

“
Commander Tanaguchi of
the
Masamune
, at your command.”

Katsuichi leaned forward, his hands together.
He glanced to his right at Colonel Webb and nodded.

“
Boys, this is Fleet Commander
Webb speaking,” said the Colonel, speaking into a handheld
extension wired to the terminal at his station. “All captains
report.”

“
Captain Jacobs,
reporting.”

“
Captain Nielson,
ready.”

“
Captain O’Hare, standing
by.”

“
Captain Field,
reporting.”

“
Captain Ørjan, sir.”

“
Captain Nydell, awaiting
orders.”

“
Captain Samson,
ready.”

“
Captain Adamcik, ready
sir.”

Colonel Webb turned to Katsuichi and nodded.
“We’re ready when you are, Your Highness.”

Katsuichi drew himself up with
an air of solemnity, pausing for a brief moment as the tension
seemed almost to congeal in the air.
For our people,
he thought silently to
himself.
For
the debt of honor we owe to the Federation.

For Father and Hikaru.

“
Begin the countdown,” he said,
staring straight ahead.

“
Sir,” said the pilot. “Fleetwide
countdown has begun. Twenty-three seconds to jump.” Through the
bulkheads, a low hum sounded as the drives engaged.

As one already dead,
Katsuichi thought to
himself, clenching his fists.

* * * * *

Abaqa rose to his feet as the door to his
cell swung open. Sergeant Roman waited for him on the other side,
alone. He acknowledged the old cyborg with a nod, but Roman only
eyed him with his eerie laser-eye prosthetic.

The corridor that led to the bridge of the
mercenary ship seemed dimmer and narrower than usual, though that
was probably only in his head. Still, as the door hissed open, the
dark mass of the rogue planet loomed ominously in the window, as if
to confirm the illusion. Captain Nova stood in the center of the
room, standing over the shoulder of the soldier who had beat him.
Both of them turned and glanced at him as he stepped on.

“
Ah, Prince Abaqa,” said Danica,
turning to face him. “Please, have a seat with Roman.”

“
What happened to your
cybernetics officer?” he asked, frowning.

“
That is none of your concern,”
said the old cyborg, folding out a chair from the wall in the back
of the room. Abaqa sat down, and Roman joined him at the terminal
just to his right, the prosthetic eye turned at an unnatural angle
to keep watch.

I gave you my word,
Abaqa thought to
himself, his lips turned up in a half-hearted sneer.
I don’t need you to
make me keep my honor.

“
Konstantin,” said Danica, taking
her seat in the command chair. “What is our situation with the
supplies?”

“
All done and loaded, Captain,”
came a scratchy old voice over the speakers, one which Abaqa didn’t
recognize. “We’re coming through the airlock now.”

“
Good. Avanadze, prepare to take
us to the surface.”

“
Ready,” said the pilot, his eyes
on his controls. It was just as well that he was at the front of
the bridge, and not the back; Abaqa had no desire to sit next to
him.

A few brief moments passed in
eerie silence. Abaqa shifted in his seat as he eyed the officers on
the bridge. With the exposed wires taped along the floor and the
aging panels along the walls, it almost reminded him of one of
Jahan’s ships.
One day,
he thought to himself,
when all this is over and I’m back in my
father’s fleet, I’ll command a ship like this.
He glanced over at the female
captain, and realized that her expression was no less commanding
than that of any spaceborn general. He frowned and tried to put the
unsettling thought out of his mind.

“
All men report safely on board,”
said Roman, still as a giant statue. “Airlocks are
sealed.”

“
Very well. Lieutenant, take us
out of here.”

“
Yes, Captain.”

The docking clamps made a low clang through
the bulkheads of the aging ship as they disengaged. Outside, the
black, airless horizon tilted and swam, making Abaqa dizzy after so
much time in the brig. He gripped his armrests as the walls
vibrated slightly with the low rushing noise of the engines.

At that moment, an alarm began to blink at
Roman’s station.

The old cyborg frowned and turned his red
prosthetic eye to the screen before him. Even through the metal
half of his body, he visibly tensed.

“
Captain,” he said, “we have five
ships arriving from jumpspace at five thousand kilometers, bearing
twenty-three degrees above orbital plane. Signals are not
Federation.”

Danica turned, her face unreadable. “Have
they seen us?”

“
Difficult to say,” he answered,
“but at our current trajectory, it is doubtful that we can
hide.”

“
Raise the alert to level three,”
said Danica. “Abaqa, what can you tell us about these
ships?”

Abaqa rose to his feet, ignoring the queasy
feeling in his stomach as he read the displays over the cyborg’s
shoulder. They were written in a language he couldn’t understand,
but Roman tapped a key on the control board and they reverted to a
version of Gaian that he could read at least partially.

“
They’re Hameji,” he said,
squinting a little. “I don’t recognize the identifier codes,
though—are we picking up any of their transmissions?”

Roman tapped another key, and static from the
overhead speakers filled the room. Abaqa reached down and adjusted
the frequency until voices became audible, though just barely. All
eyes on the bridge fell on him as he stared out the window and
listened.

“
Sir,” said the pilot, “if I
adjust our trajectory by thirty-five degrees starboard, we can
evade them with a pass around the planet. They won’t follow us into
the gravity well at that angle—our shot on them will be too
clear.”

“
Well, Prince?” said
Danica.

“
It’s hard to make anything out
over the chatter,” he said. “They must be using an
encrypted—”

“
Captain,” said the gray-haired
corporal, his voice urgent, “Hameji ships are launching fighter
drones!”

The captain turned to Abaqa as the blood
drained from his cheeks. “Well, young prince,” she asked, “if we
got you in touch with them, would you be able to call them
off?”

“
I—I don’t know,” he stammered.
“It’ll take me some time to—”

“
Then that’s our answer,” said
Danica, her expression grim. “Roman, get the men to the high-gee
coffins. Alert level four, men. Battle stations.”

* * * * *

Hikaru leaped to her feet as the alarms
blared in her small cabin. Outside, the pounding of footsteps in
the corridor sent shivers down her spine. Her legs went weak and
her hands began to shake as she realized she had no idea what she
was supposed to do.

She palmed open the door and looked in either
direction down the long, dimly-lit corridor of the ship. “Hello?”
she called out, her voice shaky. “Anybody there?”

“
What are you waiting for?” came
a gruff voice down by the hatch to the stairway. “Get down
here—now!”

Without knowing what she was doing or why she
was doing it, Hikaru complied. A heavy hand grabbed her by the arm
and dragged her down the stairwell. She shrieked in surprise but
did her best to follow.

“
W-what’s happening?” she asked,
alarms still blaring in her ear.

“
Combat maneuvers,” said the man,
evidently one of the soldiers. “We’ve got to get to the high-gee
coffins—let’s move it!”

“
High-gee coffins?” Before he
could answer, they stepped out into a narrow room with coffin-like
capsules lining the walls. Men poured out from hatchways on either
side, sprinting to the capsules and jumping inside. The soldier
dragged Hikaru to the nearest open one and threw her in, pulling
down a mask that dangled above her head.

“
Here,” he said, putting it over
her face. “Secure this and palm the lid shut.”

“
But—”

“
Just do it!”

He spoke with such urgency and forcefulness
that she swallowed her objections and did as he said. The breathing
mask was a little too large for her, and the rubbery texture felt
discomforting against her skin. She leaned back against the
gel-like cushion behind her and found it molding around her body;
when she palmed the access panel down by her waist, a similar
cushion on the inside of the lid pressed up against her so that she
had no room to move.

What’s going on?
she thought to
herself, her heart racing. Though muffled, the sound of the alarms
still carried through the walls of the coffin. She tried to lift
her hand, but found it locked in place, the cushions keeping her
from moving. When she tried to palm the lid open again, it wouldn’t
respond. The air from the breathing mask had a stale, copper taste
to it. Her heart pounded, and her breathing quickly became short
and rapid.

“
Help! I’m trapped!” she tried to
shout, but her voice carried no further than the gel-filled walls.
She opened her mouth to scream, but a sudden dropping sensation
took the wind right out of her. It was as if the coffin had fallen
out of the wall and was now rolling across the floor—down became up
and everything around her began to spin. If it weren’t for the
cushions holding her in place, she didn’t know what would be
happening to her.

This wasn’t supposed to
happen,
she
thought frantically to herself, trying not to panic.
I was just supposed
to have an adventure, not … this.
She took a deep breath and screamed. For
the first time since leaving the palace, she wanted nothing more
than to be home.

* * * * *

Kill them.

The words flooded Rina’s consciousness,
consuming every fiber of her being until she felt she would melt.
Though the alarms blared in her ears, she heard them as if from a
distance, through a long tunnel. Part of her knew she should run
down to the high-gee coffins to secure herself for maneuvers, but
that same part knew that if she went down there, the other part—the
feral, murderous part—would undoubtedly take over.

She stumbled against the cot as the floor
shifted beneath her, and struggled to fold it up against the wall.
Her quarters were spartan enough that she didn’t have to worry
about sharp edges or debris. Still, she opened her locker and
pulled out the skinsuit, struggling out of her fatigues and into
its soft, familiar frame.

Kill them.

The floor shifted again, and the distant roar
of the engines through the bulkheads confirmed that they were
already making combat maneuvers. She hastily slammed the locker
shut with her foot and pulled the skinsuit up over her undershirt,
ignoring the wrinkles underneath. The ergonomic frame adjusted
somewhat for the force against her chest, but not enough to
alleviate the growing pressure.

She closed her eyes and tried to control her
breath as the gee-forces pushed her against the wall. A wave of
light-headedness passed through her as the air was squeezed from
her lungs, but a change in direction sent her sprawling across the
floor, gasping in relief. Still, her hands trembled, and not from
the maneuvers.

Kill them.

What felt like a moment later,
she found herself groping for the access panel, trying to open the
door.
No!
she screamed inwardly, grabbing her hand to stop
herself.
Must—not—leave—this—room.
If she did, there was no telling what she
would do.

Images of the crew flashed across her mind
through the datalink implant—the graceful, gray-haired Captain
Nova, the familiar half-cyborg face of Roman, the young pilot Yuri
with his carefully trimmed beard—all of these people whom she’d
come to know so well over the past few days and weeks. She clenched
her teeth and tried to pull their images from her mind, but the
voice in her head would not relent.

Kill them.

Part of her wanted to open her mouth and
scream, but the other part—the cold, efficient part—knew that
stealth was a far more efficient way to hunt her targets.

Part IV

Chapter 16

“
Jump complete, sir. Holding at
point-three-one AU from the system star.”

“
Scanners picking up multiple
hostiles—repeat, multiple hostiles. Six capital ships, nineteen
cruisers—”

“
Sir, our countermeasures are
drawing heavy fire!”

Katsuichi pursed his lips. “Have all ships
devote an additional fifteen percent of their energy reserves to
countermeasures,” he said. That meant that none of them would be
able to jump out for at least thirty minutes, but for good or ill,
they were already committed to this fight.