"I want to blow those bastards out of space!"
The Universe had just been rocked by the opening salvo from the black-and-silver ship that hung 100,000 kilometers to starboard. The phase/plasma cannons had pounded against the starship's shields, firing especially created "phaser/plasma" essentially designed not to smash shields apart, but instead to determined the wave harmonics of the shielding and basically eat through them with violent force. The first of the blasts went a long way toward cracking through the primary shields, and the Universe was jolted by the impact.
Nonetheless, even though the starship had been subjected to this most undignified and unprovoked attack, Captain Rush's angry order prompted a startled gasp from Commander Johansen. "Captain.....!"
"Save the indignation, Commander. I didn't say I would----just that I wanted to. Still, the day's young," and Rush rose from his chair, looking energized and confident. "James, damage report."
"Some damage on primary shields," Vanessa James reported from ops. "No structural damage. Forward shields at 80% and holding."
"Greer...." began Rush.
And to his surprise, the normally laid-back helmsman said in staccato fashion, "I've angled the ship to protect the damaged shields, sir. Taking evasive action." He caught James's look from the corner of his eye and turned to glance at the captain. "Was that jumping the gun, sir?"
"Yes, but I'll let it go this time," replied Rush, who had in fact been about to issue exactly those orders. "Mr. Kostanian, have you raised them yet?"
"Not yet, sir." Kostanian, a tall, dark-haired tactical specialist, had stepped in to cover for Jakar Thul while the security chief was off-ship.
Rush spoke briskly and forcefully, yet in a manner so unhurried that it gave the impression he felt fairly unthreatened by the present situation. Whether that was truly the case or not was impossible to tell. "Keep trying, but meantime see if you can determine where their key points of vulnerability are and target them."
"Trying, Captain. Tough to scan them through their shields."
"Do your damnedest." He turned toward the science station. "Lieutenant Soleta, any thoughts on the ship's pedigree?"
"Although the vessel passing similarities with Drakh vessels, it is not of that race," she said as she checked her scanners. "It ill take time to make a full analysis."
"Fine, you've got twenty seconds."
"I appreciate the leisure time, sir."
"They're coming around again," warned Johansen.
"Firing again!" Kostanian warned.
Two phase/plasma bolts streaked out from the underside of the black-and-silver ship. Ronald Greer's eyes seemed to glitter with an almost demented glee as his fingers flew over the controls with such speed that James, sitting not ten feet away, couldn't even see them.
The twin blasts arced right for the front of the saucer section, and would have struck it cleanly had not the Universe suddenly----with alacrity and grace---executed a forty-five degree roll on her horizontal axis. Terms such as "sideways" had no meaning in the depth of space when there was no other body, such as a planet, to relate it to. Nonetheless, "sideways" was what the Universe suddenly was as the plasma blasts shot past her, bracketing her on either side.
"Excellent!" Johansen cried out. Greer had had no more vocal critic or detractor than Johansen when she had first seen him at his post, apparently unfocused and uninterested. But faced with a crisis, Greer had reacted with ingenuity and full capability.
Greer's response to Johansen's spontaneous praise was to turn and grin at her.
Soleta, who appeared oblivious to Greer's maneuvering, glanced up from her science station. "Sir, I believe that bulge to their aft section is the key to their propulsion system----some kind of a concentrated ion glide."
"Mr. Kostanian, target it, ready phasers for a three-second shot at full strength. Then put me on craft-to-craft."
"Aye, sir, but I can't promise they're listening."
"I'll take that chance. Oh, and the moment I get to five, fire."
"You're on craft-to-craft, Captain," said Kostanian, "but what do you mean by....?"
Rush didn't give him the chance to finish the question. Instead, in a no-nonsense tone, he said, "Attention alien vessel. This is Captain Rush of the Space Federation starship Universe. Your attack is unprovoked. We will give you to the count of five to back off, or we will open fire."
Understanding the earlier order, Kostanian's finger hovered over the firing control.
And Rush, without hesitation, said, "One---two---five."
Kostanian fired the phaser reflexively upon hearing the command, acting so automatically that the phasers had already been unleashed before he realized that a few numbers had been missing in the countdown.
The phasers lashed out, striking the attacking vessel directly in the direction that Soleta had suggested. The attacker rocked wildly, the phasers coruscating off the shields.
"Direct hit," Kostanian reported. "Their shields held, but I don't think they were particularly thrilled."
"I didn't expect to damage them," said Rush. "Not with a three-second-burst."
"A warning shot," Johansen realized. "To let them know that we've targeted a vulnerable spot."
Rush nodded, and that was when Kostanian said, "We're getting an incoming hail, sir."
"Good. Let them sweat a few moments before putting them on."
In a low voice so as not to sound openly questioning of her superior officer in front of the rest of the bridge crew, Johansen murmured, "If you wanted to warn them, you could have fired at half-strength. Maybe even fired across their path rather than an invasive direct strike."
"If I have a bow and arrow, Commander, I don't shoot a padded shaft to my target's left in order to express my annoyance. I fire a steel-tipped arrow into his leg. That's my idea of a warning shot."
"You're the Ghandi of the spaceways, Captain."
He smiled and then said, "Put me on with them, Kostanian."
"You're on, sir."
"This is Captain Rush of the Universe," he said. "Identify yourselves and prepare to stand down from hostilities. Otherwise I can promise you that you will not leave this confrontation in one piece."
The screen shimmered for a moment, and the commander (presumably) of the opposing vessel appeared.
Although distinguishing gender was frequently a bit problematic in any first encounter, the Universe's opponent looked distinctly female. Moreover, by Earth standards she appeared almost angelic. She was hairless, her skin golden, her brow slightly distended in a manner that was---amazingly enough---still attractive. It was hard to make out the color of her eyes, but when she tilted her head they seemed to glow with an almost purple sheen. When she spoke, her voice had a vibrato to it that gave it a somewhat musical quality.
"I am Esheena of Jetitea," she replied. "What are the terms of your surrender?"
"Surrender?" Rush cast a skeptical glance at Johansen as if to say, Do you hear this? He looked back to Esheena. "You expect me---a Fleet captain---to surrender my vessel on our maiden voyage to the first opponent that looks to pose a challenge? Sorry. That's not my style."
"Is your style trespass, then? We know your type, Rush," said Esheena. Her voice was such that, even when annoyed, she had a tone of amusement to her. "Our once-orderly sector is now subject to the attentions of scavengers and pirates. People who will take every opportunity to ravage us, to feed on helplessness. We must defend ourselves."
"I can appreciate that," replied Rush, "but you've misjudged us. We're only here to help."
"How do we know? Why, there is a transport vessel right next to you that is empty and damaged. How do we know you haven't picked it clean of whatever it might have had to offer?"
"The transport vessel's crew is aboard this ship. We were lending humanitarian aid. If you wish, I can have you speak to its captain and a delegation of its crew."
Esheena glanced to the side of the screen and murmured something, as if consulting with someone unseen. Then she looked back and said, "That would be acceptable."
"Give us five minutes. Rush out." He didn't even wait for the screen to blink off as he said, "Bridge to life station."
"Life station. Dr. Selar here," came the crisp response.
"Doctor, I'd like you to get to Captain Chilo and a couple of representatives of the Qeexar passengers up here immediately. Whoever's healthiest and is qualified to speak on their behalf. And make it fast."
"Will three minutes suffice?"
"Make it two. Rush out." He promptely turned to Kostanian and said, "Can you raise the Prennia?"
"Aye, sir."
"Good. Get me Thul on subspace. I want to see what he knows about these 'Jetitia' people."
He looked to Johansen and he knew what she was thinking. She was musing that if Rush hadn't let Turhi and Jakar Thul head out in the runabout for the purpose of rendezvous with the ship Ihiolcian Eagle, then he would be aboard the Universe now, in a position to be of some use. Johansen, however, was far too good an officer to voice those thoughts....at least, while other crewmen were around. So instead she nodded noncommittally and simply said, "Good plan, sir."
"Cartagia, it's slowing down!"737Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE6zo4QZtRO
Aboard the Ihiolcian Eagle, a group of Centauri had been watching the approach of the Prennia with tremendous interest and smug excitement. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Cartagia had checked over his disruptor, making sure that the energy cartridge was fully charged. But with the alarmed shout from one of his associates, Muaado, Cartagia tore himself away from his preoccupation with his weapon.
Muaado was right. The Prennia, dispatched by the Universe and bearing the unknown target of Cartagia's interest---named Lord Vito Turhi, former prince of the Centauri Republic---had been proceeding at a brisk pace toward the Ilhiolcian Eagle.
"They suspect," muttered Muaado.
"Do something then," snapped Cartagia. "We can't be this close to having Turhi in our hands, only to let him slip through our fingers now! I must have his throat in my hands, so that I can squeeze the life out of him myself!" The other Centauri nodded in agreement, which was hardly surprising. Whenever Cartagia spoke, the others had a tendency to concur.
Reactivating the comm channel, Muaado hailed the oncoming runabout. He tried not to sound nervous, apprehensive, or all that eager, although a little of any of that would have been understandable. After all, they were representing themselves as frightened, stranded passengers aboard a crippled science vessel. A degree of nervousness under the circumstances would be right in line with the scenario they were presenting. "Shuttlecraft Prennia, is there a problem? You seem to be slowing." He paused and then added, "Aren't you going to help us?"
There was no reply at first and another of the Centauri, a shorter and more aggressive man named Diro, whispered, "Target them! Target them! Use exterior weapons and blast them into atoms! Hurry, before it's too late!"
"They're at the outer edge of the firing range," Cartagia noted angrily. "We likely couldn't do them any significant damage, and they'd still be in a position to get away. Hell, their instruments would probably inform them we're locking onto them. They'd leap into warp space and be gone before we got a shot off." The edge to his voice became more pronounced as he said in a threatening manner, "Muaado...."
"They're not responding."
"That's not acceptable. Get them on the line."
"But if they won't respon....."
Cartagia's large hand clamped down on the back of Muaad0's neck, and the latter felt as if his head was about to be torn from his shoulders. "Providence has delivered Turhi to us," snarled Cartagia, "and I will not have him escape. Now get them on the line!"
Never had Muaado been more convinced that his end was near. And then, as if in answer to unvoiced prayers, a gravelly voice came over the speaker. "Lieutenant Thul of the Prennial be this. Calm be you, Ihiolcian Eagle. Dealing be us with from our main vessel a communique. Out be Thul."
"Raise them again!" urged Cartagia.
"I can't. The channel's gone dead."
"If they get away," Cartagia said meaningly, "that channel won't be the only thing around here that's dead!"737Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdDRFtJFWjf
Vito Turhi stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The Jetiteans, eh?"737Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQAzCN42UeY
"You know them?" Rush's voice came over the subspace radio. "Are they trustworthy?"
"Nowadays, there are few in Sector 332-J whom I would consider absolutely trustworthy," Turhi told him. "Relatively speaking, the Jetiteans had been fairly harmless. Never started any wars, more than happy to accept Centauri rule. However...."
"However?" prompted Rush when the word seemed simply to dangle there.
"Well---they're scavengers, by and large. Fairly limited in their design and potential. They tend to cobble their vessels together from whatever they can find, using technology that they don't always understand."
Soleta's voice was audible over the link as she commented, "That would explain the somewhat haphazard design of their vessel."
"Does that answer your questions, Captain?" asked Turhi, not able to keep the urgency out of his voice. "Because if it's all the same to you...."
"Stay on station. Do not proceed to the Ilhiolcian Eagle until you hear back from us."
"But Captain....!"
"I want to get matters sorted out on this end before you board that vessel, and I want to know I can get in touch with you. If the comm system on the Ilhiolcian Eagle goes out, you'll be incommunicado."
"Captain....!" Turhi tried to protest.
But Rush wouldn't hear any of it. Instead he said preemptively, "Did you copy those orders, Lieutenant Thul?"
Without hesitation, Thul said, "Jakar Thul understand, Captain."
"Universe out."
Making no attempt to hide his anger, Turhi sprang to his feet and slammed his fists into the ceiling of the shuttlecraft. Thul watched him impassively. "What meaning of this be?"
"It's called getting angry!" snapped Turhi. He began to pace the interior of the shuttlecraft like a tiger. "Don't you ever get angry?"
"Must not I," said Thul evenly. "To be broken things get if lose control I."
"Things? What kinds of things?" demanded Thul without much interest.
"Heads....backs....necks....."
Captain Chilo of the damaged vessel Qeexar, along with two of the refugees--- a man and wife named Qeeman and Hwean, who had developed into a kind of leaders-by-default---sat in the conference lounge with Rush and Johansen. On the screen was Esheena of Jetitea, and it was quite apparent to Rush that Chilo and company were spellbound by her.737Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHZceLzaMRB
"You understand that we were only concerned about the welfare of your passengers," Esheena said to Rush in that wonderfully musical voice of hers. "Let us not lose sight of one simple truth: This is our sector of space. You are merely a visitor here. It is to our interest to watch out for each other. It is difficult to know who to trust."
"Understood," said Rush neutrally.
"Captain Chilo----I extend to you and your----cargo," she seemed amused by the notion, "sanctuary on Jetitea. We welcome you with open arms."
Qeeman and Hwean looked at each other with undisguised joy and relief. "We accept your offer," they said.
"Excellent. I shall inform my homeworld." The screen shimmer and she was gone.
"Now, wait a minute," said Johansen. "Are you quite sure about this?"
"Commander, we're not prisoners," Hwean replied. "We're not intrepid adventurers like yourselves. We're just trying to survive, that's all. Whether we survive on their planet or somewhere outside of the Centauri Republic, what difference does it make?"
"Isn't there an ancient Earth saying about any port in a storm?" Chilo reminded them.
"Yes, and there's also one about fools rushing in," said Rush.
Qeeman bristled a bit. "I can't say I appreciate being considered a 'fool,' Captain."
"I didn't say that...."
Hwean cut in. "We're grateful to you for all you've done for us. You saved our lives. For that our next generation of children shall be named for you. But, Captain," and Hwean gestured as if trying to encompass the whole of the galaxy, "this environment you sail through---space----you're comfortable in it. You've made your peace with it. But myself, Qeeman, the others in our group----we're not spacefaring types. This vacuum---it presses on us. Intimidates us. We almost died in it. If the Jetiteans offer us safe escort and a life on their world, we'll happily embrace it."
Chilo took in both Rush and Johansen with a bland shrug. "Look----I'm just a hired gun here. They're the passengers. Barring desires that run contrary to the safety of my vessel, I'm obligated to take them where they wish to go."
"Perhaps. But I'm not," Rush said.
They looked at him, a bit appalled. "Captain---you wouldn't," said Qeeman.
"I've got to do what I think is right. And I'm loath to thrust you into a potentially dangerous situation...."
"We're already in a potentially dangerous situation," Hwean pointed out. "We're in the depths of space. That's dangerous enough as far as we're concerned. It almost killed us once. We have no desire to give it another opportunity."
"With all respect, Captain, this is not your decision,"
"With all respect, sir----that's just what it is," replied Rush. He rose from his seat and turned away from them, his hands draped behind his back. "I'll let you know what I decide presently. That will be all."
"Now wait one minute....."
"I believe, sir, that the captain said that would be all," Johansen said calmly, her fingers interlaced on the table before her. "Temporary quarters must have set up to house you and your fellow passengers. Perhaps the time could be well spend discussing your options with them....just in the event that you're not all of the same mind."
"Apparently what we decide is irrelevant," said Qeeman challengingly. "His fists were tightly clenched; it was clear that he was a bit of a scrapper, just waiting for Rush to react in some aggressive manner. When Rush didn't even turn, however, Qeeman continued angrily, "Wouldn't you say so, Captain."
Rush turned to look at him, and his purple eyes were as sympathetic as a black hole. "Yes I would." The air turned more frigid with each word.
To his credit, Qeeman didn't seem inclined to back down. But Hwean headed off any continuing hostility as she tugged on Qeeman's arm and he allowed himself to be led out of the room. Captain Chilo paused at the door long enough to say, "Look, Captain----I don't give a damn either way. I'm making almost no money on this job as it is. But for what it's worth, these are people who have lost everything. Be a shame if they lost their self-respect, too."
Johansen waited until the moment that Chilo was gone and out of earshot, and then she said to Rush, "It's not your choice, you know."
He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Regs are clear on this. These people know where they want to go. You don't have any conceivable grounds upon which to overrule their desire."
"Yes, I do."
"That being?"
"My gut."
She leaned back, arms folded. "Your gut," she said without enthusiasm. "Funny. I don't remember treading about that in my Intro to Regs class back at the Academy. Guts, I mean."
"Jetitea smells wrong."
"First your stomach, now your nose. Are you a Fleet captain or a gourmet?"
And to her utter surprise, he slammed the conference table with an iron fist. The noise startled her and she jumped slightly, but quickly composed herself. And just as quickly she reined herself in, so did Rush. "I'm dealing with subtleties, Commander. Regulations aren't created for subtleties. They're created as sweeping generalizations to handle all situations. But not every situation."
"And it can't be that every situation, you do whatever the hell you want. Nor can it be that you let your frustration get to you so quickly and so easily."
"I'm not frustrated," Rush said. "I just know what I know. And what I know is that Jetitea seems off. I don't trust Esheena."
"Be that as it may, Nick----do you want to be a dictator? With your history, do you feel comfortable with that label?"
He smiled thinly. "You always know just what to say."
"Long practice." She sauntered toward him, stopping several feet away. "Look, Nick----for what it's worth, I respect your gut, your nose---all your instincts. But that has to be balanced against conducting ourselves in an orderly fashion. We're the only Fleet vessel out here. We're here at a time of disarray. We have to stand for something, and we can't just come in and throw our weight around. It's patronizing; don't you see that?"
"Yes, I see that. By the same token, should I deliberately allow people to go into a dangerous situation when I can prevent them from doing so?"
She was silent for a long moment. "You mean like with the captain of the Destiny?"
With a deep sigh, Rush told her, "Jonny---you know I admire you. Respect you. Still have deep feelings for you, as much as I hate to admit it....although certainly not romantic. God knows....."
"Of course not," she quickly agreed.
"But so help me, if you bring up the Destiny again, I may become violent."
"Really? Try it and I'll kick your ass. Sir."
And he laughed. "You know---I'll bet you could, at that." But then he became serious again. "Very well, Commander. But this will be done on my terms."
"What terms? What are you.....?"
For reply, he tapped his comm until. "Bridge....open a hailing frequency to the Jetitean ship. Pipe it down here."
Within moments Esheena was smiling at them in that beatific manner she had. "Greetings," she said. "Are you preparing to transport your charges over to our ship?"
"Actually," replied Rush, "I was anticipating that we could transport them ourselves, if it is all the same to you."
Johansen looked from Rush to Esheena, trying to get some hint of her state of mind. But if Esheena seemed at all disconcerted by Rush's statement, she didn't give the slightest sign. "That would be perfectly acceptable. I will send you the coordinates for our homeworld. Esheena out."
When she blinked out, Johansen asked, "What about the Qeexar? We can't haul it along at warp speed?"
"We'll cut her loose and leave her here to drift until we come back for her," he said after a moment's thought. "Considering the condition she's in, I hardly think we have to worry about scavengers."
"Bridge to Captain Rush," came Greer's voice.
"Rush here."
"Captain, we've gotten coordinates for Jetitea." He paused. "Were we expecting them?"
"Yes, we were. Warp five would get us there when, Mr. Greer?"
"At warp five? Two hours and ten minutes, sir. They're not all that far."
Johansen commented, "Considering their own vessel isn't exactly the most advanced I've seen, I can't say I'm surprised. That still leaves us with one outstanding problem."
"Yes, I'm quite aware of that. Greer, set course for Jetitea, warp five. Then have Mr. Kostanian patch me through the Prennia. Let's make sure we're not leaving them in the lurch."
"You're making the right decision, sir," said Johansen.
"I'm so relieved you approve, Commander." He grimaced. "My only problem is----you know that unpleasant feeling I've got about the Jetiteans?"
"Yes?"
"Well----now I'm starting to get it about that Prennia and its rendezvous with the Ihiolcian Eagle. I hope that's not a mistake as well."
"Captain, if you keep second-guessing your judgments, you're going to drive yourself crazy."
"Why, Commander----I thought you decided I was insane the day I broke off our engagement."
And with a contemptuous chuckle, she said, "Captain----I hate to inform you----but I broke it off. Not you." She strode out of the conference lounge, leaving an amused Rush shaking his head. But then the amusement slowly evaporated as the reality set in.
He didn't like the situation. Not one bit.
For years he had basically been his own boss. he had answered to no one except, in a very distant manner, Admiral Lutes. He had been bound by no rules except those of common sense, and made decisions that were answerable only to himself. It had been an extremely free manner in which to operate.
But now----now he had rules hanging over him whichever way he turned. He had operated under rules before, yes----but he had been the one making the rules. Back when he'd been a freedom fighter on his native Rizajor, his wiles and craftiness had earned him the respect of those around him and they obeyed him. They obeyed him unthinkingly, unhesitatingly. Had he told them to throw themselves on their swords, they would have done so with the firm conviction that there was a damned good reason for it.
But that wasn't the case here. Yes, he was captain. Yes, he was obeyed. But that obedience came as a result of a long tradition and history that dictated that obedience. They answered to the rank, not to him. When it came to himself, he could sense that there were still double-takers or second thoughts. His crew----Johansen in particular---gave thought to his orders, questioned him, challenged him. It irked him, angered him.
And yet---and yet----
Shouldn't that really please him? Shouldn't that be something that made him happy rather than disconcerted him? After all, he had lived in an environment where blind obedience was expected as a matter of course, and punished if not given. The Rizajors had lived under the thumb of the Senderians, and during that time the Senderians had not been exactly reluctant to show who was boss at any given moment. They had unhesitatingly used the Rizajors as their objects, their toys, their playthings to dispose of at a whim or exploit as they saw fit. Young N'klaraet of Rush had seen those activities and a cold fury had built within him. Built and built until it had exploded into rebellion, and through sheer force of will he had brought an entire race with him.
Yes, he had indeed seen firsthand the dangers of requiring unquestioned obedience. At the same time, he was frustrated that the same rules under which he oftentimes felt constricted were what guaranteed that his own people would do what he told them to. He wanted more than that.
Time, a voice in his head consoled him. These things required time. He had always been impatient, always wanted everything at whatever moment he wanted it. It was an attitude that had, in the past, stood him good stead. When tribal elders had told him that someday, someday in the far future, the Rizajors would be free, young N'klaraet had not settled for that. "Someday" was too ephemeral, too useless a concept for him. He wanted "someday" to be right then and there. He would make his own "somedays."
He smiled at the absurdity of it all. Despite everything he'd gone through, everything he'd seen, there was still an impatient young Rizajor within him who didn't understand the need for patience. A young Rizajor who wanted everything now, and who had no use whatsoever for "someday."
He tapped his comm badge. "Rush to Johansen."
"Johansen here," came the prompt reply.
"Have we been in communication with Thul and Turhi?"
"Yes, sir. They, in turn, have spoken with the crew of the Ihiolcian Eagle. Although they're in distress, three's no immediate danger to them. They report life-support systems are still online. Thul and Turhi intended to board the Ihiolcian Eagle and lend whatever aid they can until we rendezvous with them."
"All right. Best speed to Jetitea, then---on my order," he added as an afterthought.
"On your order, sir," she said. Then there was a pause. "Captain...."
"Yes, Commander?"
"We're waiting on your order."
He smiled to the empty room. "Yes. I know." He paused a moment longer, then said simply, "Now."
"Now it is, sir."
It was a small pleasure, making them wait in anticipation of the order. Childish, maybe. A juvenile reminder of who was in charge, but he found that it gave him amusement. And lately he'd had very little of that.
"Oh, and Commander," he said as an afterthought.
"Yes, sir."
"Just for your information: I broke it off. Rush out."
* * *
On the bridge of the Universe, James turned in her seat and looked quizzically at Johansen. She noted that it seemed as if Johansen's chest were shaking in amusement. "He 'broke it off,' Commander?"
"So he claims, Lieutenant," replied Johansen.
From the science station, Soleta inquired, "Will he be needing someone to reattach it?"
And then she stared at Johansen in confusion as Johansen, unable to contain it anymore, laughed out loud.737Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAKdJiPJRF5
