The instructor stood tall at the front of the class, wearing a crisp military uniform. “Good morning, Cadets. Now, for the past two weeks we’ve been comparing two cases from the mid twentieth century which effectively illustrate the differences between the two schools of thought on modern warships. One of these cases was the saga of the sinking of the Soleon German warship Bismarck, the other of the demise of a Soleon United States patrol boat, the PT-109. What conclusions have you reached about current UTFS doctrine from interpreting these cases?”
Kim’s hand shot up. “Sir, with all due respect, the assigned reading material fails to provide a balanced depiction of the difference between the Capital Ships and smaller, more tactical craft.”
The instructor arched his eyebrows. Damn, but Kim had forgotten how much she hated Major Renault. “Would you care to elaborate further, Miss Shan?”
Kim’s hand shot up. “Sir, with all due respect, the assigned reading material fails to provide a balanced depiction of the difference between the Capital Ships and smaller, more tactical craft.”
The instructor arched his eyebrows. Damn, but Kim had forgotten how much she hated Major Renault. “Would you care to elaborate further, Miss Shan?”
“Yes sir! The United States PT boats were admittedly over-glamorized during the war, and these effects never dissipated, and their safety effort was bad, but nowhere near the ninety-seven percent losses claimed in the text. That figure comes from the number of PT Boats still intact over fifty years later. Furthermore, the claim that they were ‘cutting-edge’ technology is patently false. While it is admittedly true in the technical sense that the USS Constitution, a 44-gun frigate, remained a commissioned warship, it was by no means in service. She was removed from any active role in 1871, although she remains a commissioned United States Warship until the present day-a hundred years after the dissolution of the United States as a political entity.”
Renault nodded. “Very... Interesting, Miss Shan. You raise some interesting arguments about the text, which we don’t have time to discuss in full at the moment, although I will say that the First Citizen himself has come down firmly on the pro-Capital Ship side of this debate.”
Kim stood, turned to the door, and stalked out of the room. That man was wrong-the War had proven that alright. She turned to the room across the hall, and stepped into the ballroom of the Palatine building. Appointed in a classic twenty-two-hundreds style, it was rumored to be directly inspired by architectural diagrams left behind by David Ben-Nun, the man who had stabilized the Xon war.
Reed Hazzard stood still in the center of the commotion of the room, smiling at her, wearing a dress uniform. His black jacket and pants had dark red highlights, and he wore a Commodore’s insignia on his shoulders. Kim inhaled sharply, adrenaline spiking. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He said, bowing and extending a gloved hand to her. “May I have this dance, Miss Shan?”
She smiled, laughed, and accepted his hand. “Of course, Mister Hazzard.” They danced across the ballroom floor. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that she still wore her Battle Dress Uniform, or BDU, from class a moment before-but no, she now wore a Dress Uniform like Reed, but the highlights on the pants and sleeves were a navy blue.
She held him close-she had been the one to drive their brief friendship, and yes, romance. That hadn’t stopped him from taking the blame-and scandal-but there had been nothing to blame anyone for or to be scandalized about.
“Bernan. It’s the only logical place.” He said, thoughtfully. “They’ll also be encrypting when they use them. It’ll be hard to tell.”
Kim nodded. Of course they would. “I miss you.” She said. “It’s been too long.”
Reed sighed. “I do too. Miss me, that is.” He winked at her. “But... I have to go. This can’t last. It didn’t, and it never can.” He pushed her away, stepping away, leaving her standing alone in the center of the floor. She saw Isabella Shishani dance by, with some man Kim didn’t recognize. Shishani shot her a look that was at once both scornful and sympathetic.
Reed stepped up, towards the Destroyer hovering in the center of the ballroom.
“Reed!” She shouted. “Reed!”
He didn’t turn as he stepped into it, the name Breaker Bay emblazoned on its hull. The hatch swung shut, and the ship swept away, antimatter drives blazing.
It only got a few thousand feet in the air before it exploded, fire and bits of steel raining down upon the dancers below.
Of course he left. She thought. He always would.
Kim stared at the wall, a cup of something hot-she forgot exactly what-clutched in her hands, a blanket around her shoulders.
The dream haunted her. It dominated her thoughts like a Warrior-class carrier was supposed to dominate the battlespace. Unlike a carrier, though, the dream actually managed to do so.
She shivered, thinking of Reed, and Terra, and her time at Fleet School. They were all gone now.
Something splashed in her mug-she could hear it, though her eyes were now closed. She touched her face. She could feel the wet, sticky paths that tears had taken as they ran down it.
She heard someone enter the bridge. Ali was supposed to have relieved her as Officer of the Night a few hours ago. That hadn’t happened for obvious reasons. She had no idea who was next.
She felt an arm wrap around her, hear the person kneel down beside her. “Ervin?” She asked, not sure of how she felt about his presence here.
“Yeah.” He replied. “I’m your relief on watch, but... Do you want to talk again?”
She smiled weakly. “You’re honestly being a bit of a creep here-are you deliberately choosing watches right after mine?”
She could hear the laugh in his voice. Damn, but it had been so long since she had heard laughter. “No-I was actually expecting to find Jae here. He’s... A little less cuddly.”
She decided to ignore whatever meaning he might be putting into that, and break down into further sobbing instead. “I’m going to have to remove him, Ervin... I need that man, but I can’t keep him on the Bridge...”
“What’s happened?” He asked, sounding confused.
“He’s... He’s our Agent.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a long moment.
She looked up towards him. “Ervin, I want you to replace him. I want you to be our Executive Officer. You’re the only person here I know I can trust, the only person that I actually almost understand.”
Ervin hesitated. She could see that he wanted the position, but... “Commander, with all due respect, I feel that my skills will be far more useful in Combat Systems. Our pilots are largely untrained, unable to function as a combat unit on their own. With all due respect, ma’am, I must respectfully decline your offer.”
“Ervin, I need you on my Bridge. Who else can I take? Kalkus? He’s a great mechanic, but he’s not a leader. Abrams? She can ‘lead’ in the strictest sense of the word, but she’s a jackass while doing it, and the crew hates her.”
“Ma’am, I understand that none of your current Deck Officers can be promoted. I could recommend several individuals for promotion-Hans Henrick or Deborah Chambers are both solid individuals who could do well in a Commissioned rank. However, all of your current Commissioned Officers are perfectly placed as-is.”
The thing is, he’s right. Jae said that he hand-picked this crew-and he clearly knew what he was doing. Excellent potential in the officers and enlisted personnel, but it will take so much work to realize it, and that requires time that I just don’t have.
“No, Deck Officer Ervin Norton, I need you to help me command this ship. I’ll take your recommendations into consideration for filling your previous role as the head of Combat Systems, but you will respect my orders and authority, and accept this transfer.”
He was tense for a moment, then said, “Yes, Commander.” He looked angry, but at least he had complied.
“You can still work with Combat for training and the like-indeed, this will be highly useful. But I need a second-in-command, and you’re the only one I feel that I can safely choose.” She thought for a moment, then made what she hoped would be seen as a concession. “And I would very much like for you to pick our new Officer. We’ll transfer Ensign Ali into whatever position gets freed up.”
Ervin, unfortunately, didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture as she had hoped. “Yes, Commander. Is there anything else I need to know before I begin my watch?”
She shook her head, looking down. “No, First Officer. Thank you for your service. Super Nos.”
“Super Nos.” He replied.
She returned to her room, still wrapped in the blanket. She hated doing this to him, but... Over the past few days, Ervin Norton had proven himself the most reliable of her officers, which was the only criterion she could base a decision like this off of under the circumstances. There was no room other than strict meritocratic promotion at the moment-although, in fairness, that was how it always should have been.
That still didn’t stop her tears. That dream had been traumatic, and she had been hoping that spending time with Ervin would help relieve that, not make it worse-although Ervin himself was rapidly becoming a stressful thought.
She curled up on her bunk, not even having taken off her uniform. She sobbed, thankful for the physical isolation of her quarters even as she lamented the equally real isolation of the position that provided them. She thought of VT Day the year before, those few perfect days between her graduation from Fleet School and her formal assumption of a position in the fleet. Memories of Terra, Reed, and a million other things flashed through her mind.
Stop it. She thought. Stop it. You’re the Commander of the UTFS Warbler. You have no time to indulge in self-pity and pathetic strains of thought like this one. You have an obligation to your crew, and yes, yourself, to put this behind you and deal with the new realities of life. stop crying. Get your act together.
“Greetings, crewmembers of the United Terran Fleet Ship Warbler. It is the thirty-first day of December in the Thirtieth Year of the Republic, approximately the sixty-eighth day of the war, and fourth day of the Warbler’s official combat status. All crewmembers will report to the Common Area in full Shipboard Uniform in the next ten minutes, where you will be briefed for the day's operations. Super Nos.”
Deborah Chambers rolled out of her bunk, grabbing her uniform, blinking to clear her eyes. The previous day had sucked on multiple levels-she had spent the vast majority of it inside of a Console, and when they had finally been allowed to emerge, one of their own was in Medical with serious injuries. She was actually interested in hearing what the Commander had to say this morning, for once.
Five minutes later, half the crew was already in the mess, in full uniform, ready for the day’s assignments. Over the past few days this had typically been a time when people were talking about something-even if it was mutiny, there were people talking.
Today though, there was silence. Deborah didn’t know Sadira Caspar that well, but she was well aware of the fact that she had quickly become one of the best-respected members of the crew. It hurt everyone to not see her in the Mess. It reminded them all of their own mortality a little too much.
“Good morning.” Deborah looked up to Commander Shan, who had just entered the room. She looked tired, and worn thin. “We’re going to have another busy day-although I suppose that, if busy is a relative value, this one won’t be. Allow me to rephrase: We’re going to have a full day.”
Shan visibly composed herself, then resumed speaking. “Mister Jae Ali has been relieved of duty as the Executive Officer of this ship. He will be succeeded by Deck Officer Ervin Norton. Executive Officer Norton will continue to aid in the day-t0-day running and training of Combat Systems for the foreseeable future, but Combat Systems will require an immediate appointment of an officer to be the actual leader of that section, especially while the ship is engaged in action. Therefore, we have appointed Ensign Deborah Chambers to the rank of Deck Officer.”
Deborah’s heart skipped a beat, old fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. Shan had just done what?
She realized that everyone was looking at her, and she had absolutely nothing to say. Breathing deeply, she brought herself to attention, and saluted the Commander. “Thank you, Commander Shan. I look forward to continuing to serve under you!”
Much to Deborah’s surprise, the Skipper looked relieved to hear that. “As do I, Deck Officer Chambers. Please see Executive Officer Norton after the meal for a rundown of your duties.”
“Today's Ops will involve salvaging what we can from the Hoatzin. Combat Systems and most of SENCOM will be the away team for the day, led by Deck Officer Abrams. She’ll brief you more fully, but we’re primarily interested in salvaging some hull plating, replenishing our Drone supply, and stocking up on consumables. Given that the Hoatzin is a Tactical ship, the layout will be slightly different, but there may be unique opportunities that arise aboard it. I expect these to be brought to the immediate attention of Deck Officer Abrams. Ansibilics, run some final diagnostics on the Ansible-we should have finally fixed the issues with the Fold. Deck Officer Kalkus, feel free to assign any free crewmembers to the Hoatzin’s salvage crew.”
Shan looked down at her notes. “Oh, and one last thing. Ensign Caspar was seriously injured in yesterday’s boarding ops. Her condition is serious, but Ensign Freeman has directed me to inform you that it is also stable. Please, be cautious aboard the Hoatzin. I hate to sound cynical, but it will be enough of a burden to care for one person with our limited medical resources. I’d much rather not have to double the issues. Super Nos!”
There were mumbled replies of ‘Super Nos’, but none of the typical shouts. Shan wasn’t the only one who was tired, and she probably hadn’t earned back any more respect with her remarks about Caspar. Deborah, however, had bigger things to worry about.
She grabbed a ration packet, and immediately sought out Ervin. “You asked to see me, Sir?” She asked.
He nodded. “You’ve officially landed the best job on the ship, Deb.” He said. “Is it alright if I call you that? It’s always awkward for the first few days after a promotion-don’t sweat any of that.”
“There’s absolutely no problem with that, Sir.” She said. “To be honest, I’m equally unsure of how to act towards yourself.”
He smiled. “Excellent. We can be awkward together. You absolutely deserve a position like this, for the record. You’ll be an excellent officer. Come, walk with me.” He said, stepping towards the door, grabbing a food packet of his own off the table.
She followed, listening to him talk. “You’re familiar with all the basics of flying a drone-hell, you’re the only pilot on this ship that might be able to go toe-to-toe with me in space, and from the way you fly I’d bet that you’ll outdo me nine times out of ten in an atmosphere.” He grimaced. “Damn wings. Anyway, you’ve got to get familiar with the tactics of the battlespace now. You’ve got to start worrying about Direct violations or threats over Indirect, even if your drone is somewhere else entirely. As part of Combat Systems, your job has always, indirectly, been to keep us alive-which makes intuitive sense, unless there’s something dreadfully wrong with you. The real difference is that you’re now going to be expected to direct seven other people as they conduct that mission, all while being expected to outdo them all each and every time you fly.”
She nodded. “‘The Console is the fairest environment you’ll ever be in. Respect is directly proportional to the number of kills you’ve earned on the side of your Console.’”
“Fleet School manual?” He asked.
“Yeah-Piloting wasn’t actually my course, though. The Instructor actually expelled me halfway through the first semester.”
Ervin raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Why?”
“I am, and I quote his official assessment, ‘An insubordinate jackass with an overinflated ego.’”
He nodded. “Now that we’re equals here, I can be honest: It’s true to an extent. Another mark of a good officer. It works for most of the ones we have here, after all.” He laughed, although Deb didn’t see his attempt at humor as funny. “I think I have a copy of the Fleet School Officer Candidacy Manual lying around somewhere-I’ll get it to you when I have a chance.” Ervin stopped walking, next to a room marked with the word ‘Skipper’. He opened the door-there was no concept of ‘Clearance’ onboard Gunboats like the Warbler. The only keys aboard were either brought by individuals for their Sea Chests, or the Commanders Antimatter Keys, used for various controlled substances aboard the ship.
“Why are we here?” Deb asked, stepping into the cramped office behind Ervin.
“We’ve got to get you a sidearm.” He said, pointing to safe on one wall. “That’s the Weapons Locker. It’s accessible only to the Commander.” He smiled, and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “Good thing that’s me, right?”
She stiffened. “What are those?” She demanded.
“These, Deck Officer, are exactly what we’re to be entrusted with. There may well come times, especially with this crew and these circumstances, when you will feel the need to provide a clear and immediate incentive to follow your orders. That’s why we’re issued weapons aboard the ship. Remember the other night when Commander Shan shot at Ensign Freeman?”
Deb nodded.
“While I disagree with that, that is the general idea. If you ever get to that point, you have failed as an officer to some extent, but you are still entitled to obedience as long as you are issuing lawful orders. And yes, these are Commander Shan’s Antimatter Keys. We’re trusted. Kimberly would trust myself, Alan Kalkus, or Celia Abrams with her life, and, if the Republic still existed, her career. That’s exactly what she’s doing right now with lending me these keys. And you are now a part of this cadre.”
Deb nodded again. “That’s why you all stood by her that night.”
“Yes.”
“And what about Ensign Ali?”
“What about him?”
“Does she trust him?”
Ervin was silent for a few moments as he unlocked the safe, pulling out a rack of pistols. “I don’t know what Ali did.” He said, voice slow and considered. “I do know that she didn’t kill him, which actually means a lot-she can’t afford anyone she doesn’t trust to some extent aboard this ship. She was very insistent that I accept this position, so she doesn’t envision him getting it back any time soon. All in all, I wouldn’t say, and if, God forbid, I assume command of this vessel, I will have to investigate the situation.” He placed the rack on the table, black weapons gleaming in the light. “Each of these weapons has the ability to wipe out what remains of our species, Deck Officer Chambers. You now possess, for all intents and purposes, the equivalent of a nuclear weapon.” He held one of the guns by the barrel, offering it to her.
She hesitated, hand wavering over it. Swallowing, she accepted it, and the responsibilities that it represented. It had been a long time since she had held a weapon. Oh, she had held guns often during various training exercises, but those weren’t weapons. A gun was for sport or for practice. A weapon was for killing.
“Take a few magazines-keep them with you, but don’t load it.”
“With all due respect, I’ve killed people before. I know how to avoid it when I want to.”
He nodded. “Understood. Good luck with your posting, Deck Officer.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“And if I can offer one final piece of advice: You’ll fail. You’ll fail a lot. You’ll mess up, get into snafus, make patently dumb decisions. Your crew will understand, even more so because you’re one of them. Just make sure you own up to it.”
“Like Commander Shan did?”
Ervin smiled. “Exactly like that. Commander Shan is, despite what anyone says, not just an excellent Commander, but a good person-and that may well be the more important quality under our current circumstances.” He replaced the weapons in the safe, locked it, and turned back towards the door.
“Sir... If I may ask a question...”
Ervin frowned. “Yes, of course.”
“Yourself and the Commander-what exactly is the nature of your relationship?” And don’t you dare tell me that it’s purely a working one-you’re probably only friends, but please, just be honest.
“Commander Shan and I have been working closely over the past few days. I’m not quite sure what the dynamic between us is, but it is not romantic. I wouldn’t describe us as friends either-what we have is the sort of dynamic that you will develop with your fellow soldiers after serving together. It’s a bond deeper than friendship, but more intimate than family.”
“You knew her previously?”
“By reputation only. We were in the same Strike Group, and of the same rank, but didn’t often have occasion to work together before now. I remember one time her Destroyer and my Air Wing operated together though, about a year ago... Let’s just say there’s been a massive improvement in her ability as an officer since then.”
“Understood, Sir. I’ll avoid further questions on this topic.”
“Thank you. Once again, good luck in your new position-but I really can’t talk, since I have to return this key.”
He was clearly being evasive, but she had bigger problems. She was terrified and excited by her newfound responsibilities, and, well... That was sort of the point.
“Super Nos.” She whispered, strapping her weapon onto her uniform’s utility belt. “Upon us.”
Ten was back aboard the Hoatzin, which was surprisingly un-terrifying. Jae Ali, Jane Steele, and Maria Prussin had gone aboard in spacesuits to make the hull airtight and get emergency lighting turned on. In other words, it was spooky and orange, but hell, it was better than being jumped at by a D in the dark.
The floor of the Weapons Control Room was clear, save for the single skeleton by the hatch they had entered though. The Warbler and Hoatzin were connected via the Bow Airlock. The gravity discontinuity was a killer as always.
Ten noticed Jane Steele looking down at the body. “First time you’ve seen a skeleton?” She asked.
Steele shook her head. “No. I’ve seen bodies before, in various stages of decay. Tridentine was a pretty horrible world. Our Planetary Security was horribly inept, so Tactical filled the gap. Well... You can probably guess how that turned out for a lot of people.”
Ten nodded. “Yeah.” She heard a Console door swing open, followed by a scream from behind her, and then it slammed shut. She rolled her eyes.
She turned to face Seth Albright, who looked like he had seen a ghost. “What have we learned?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.
“There’s a body in there...” The Weapons Officer’s knees were literally knocking together.
Ten strode over to the Console, looked it over, and nodded. “Probably, yes. It’s entirely likely. For instance, if the Warbler suffered rapid depressurization, where do you think they’d find your body?” Probably needlessly cruel, but hell, the newbie needed it.
She ripped the door open, and hauled the body out. It was beginning to thaw, although it hadn’t been stripped clean by the D, and it had been in vacuum until a few hours ago, so it hadn’t had a chance to decompose naturally. “This is Agent Lorena Dean.” Ten said, inspecting the name badge on the woman’s uniform. “This human being died in the service of our species. You owe her some respect, Ensign, even if she is an Agent.”
Albright swallowed, and nodded.
“Now that we understand that-” Ten said, kneeling down by the body, “Please also remember that she’d do this exact same thing to us if the situation was reversed.” She stuck her hands into the corpse’s pockets, pulling out an assortment of coins, a small power pack, and a small speaker. “Huh. Music lover.” Ten said, pocketing the speaker, and tossing the power pack to the pile in the center of the room where they had been accumulating such items. “Open up a console, kid-I just want you to do this once before you get to go play with the computers.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He swallowed again, walking to the next-nearest Console, opening it up, visibly wincing at the sight of the body. Madeline O’Hare had not suffered as merciful a death as Lorena Dean, apparently-her forehead was covered in dried blood, as was the inside of his console, suggesting that he had been injured well before the ship had depressurized. Her pockets yielded nothing but a half-used notebook and a few stubs of pencil, as well as a pair of worn Captain’s insignia-the Marines version, not the Navy one.
“So,” Ten said, standing, “Do you understand why we did this?”
“Not really.” Albright whispered, still pale.
“I want you to think on it-and I promise, it’s not just because I was picking on a newbie.”
They made their way aft, cutting through SENCOM, the Bridge, and Ansibilics, into ‘Cloaking and AI’. Seth hesitated by the door, still pale. “Is it safe?” He asked.
Ten rolled her eyes. “Yeah it is-we swept this room three times. You’re the only person on the Warbler even remotely qualified to comment upon any of this stuff.”
He swung the door open, entering the room. There were two structures, one at each end. The room was small and cramped, less than half the size of the Ansibilics room aboard the Warbler, but Ten could see Seth’s face light up.
He knelt by the massive black pylon on their left, glancing over the controls. “This is the cloak-damn, I want to play with this so badly...” He looked over it, its wires and tubes spreading in all directions. “Ridiculously fun. But...” He turned to face what appeared to be a simple computer terminal on Ten’s right. “That’s the real prize.” He flipped a switch on the computer, and the Mil-Ind logo flashed across the screen. A humanoid figure appeared above the console, glowing softly.
“User unauthorized.” The hologram said. It was male, built muscularly and proportioned as if it would be tall, although it was barely two feet high as a projection. Its voice didn’t seem to be computerized, and it flowed naturally.
Ten crossed herself-it really was an AI.
Seth grinned wildly-it really was an AI.
“Aetna, I am Ensign Seth Albright, of the UTFS Warbler. The TS Hoatzin has been disabled in combat, and all hands are lost. We are salvaging the Hoatzin to effect repairs upon our own ship, and would request your services.”
“User unauthorized.” Aetna repeated.
Seth’s face fell. “Initiate override mode. Root to user ‘Seth Albright’.”
“Invalid command. User Seth Albright, cease and desist attempting to utilize this Artificial Intelligence system without prior authorization, or this system will be required to obfusticate its code.”
“No, no!” Seth shouted, waving his hands wildly.
“What’s that mean?” Ten asked, glaring towards the AI with what she hoped was clear suspicioun.
“It’s unbreakable encryption. We don’t want that. We really, really don’t want that.”
Ten wasn’t sure that that was true. Church teaching was clear. AI were abominations, given their simulacrums of souls by the Devil himself.
Seth powered down the computer, and took out a screwdriver. “Fun fact.” He said, unscrewing a panel. “An AI can be kept on a single Ansible-sinked computer about the size of a human head. They’re deliberately designed to be able to be removed by anyone, and plugged into any computer.” He lifted the grate off of the front of the computer terminal, exposing a black box. “And I don’t intend to let this one get away.”
Sadira sat on her bed, facing Kim. “Commander, I’ve been thinking over a few things.” She said, coughing. “I’ve been horribly pretentious over the past few days. You’re an excellent commander, and I’ve been out of line almost constantly since the moment we met. I’m deeply sorry.” Sadira coughed again.
Kim looked down, and nodded. “Apology accepted, Midshipman. I look forward to having you back on duty. And, for the record, I have been far from blameless in these affairs. I’ve misused my crew-you all deserve better. Hopefully, going forward, I’ll be able to work more closely with you.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Sadira hesitated, glancing down to one of the IV cords in her left arm. “One more thing... Deck Officer Ali is a Tactical Agent, Commander. He fights like one, he acts like one, even that sword he used... That’s a Tactical weapon. My father had one back home, and Jae knew how to use one. There’s no doubt about it.” Sadira coughed again, though Kim was sure she also saw a few tears on the Middie’s face.
What she definitely saw, though, was blood on the Sadira’s sleeve.
“I know. I was informed last night, and he’s already been dealt with. Ervin Norton is the XO now, and Deborah Chambers has replaced Ervin.”
Sadira nodded. “Thank you, Commander.” Her voice sounded weak.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Kim asked.
“Prolong my stay in a space that doesn’t include Steele and Burton for as long as possible?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Super Nos, Commander.” Sadira said, laying back down. Cassidy had been very clear on how long they were allowed to speak for, and the Medical Officer was the one person aboard a ship that the Skipper had to answer to unconditionally, if not in theory, at least in practice.
“No’er intema ville.” Kim said. It was a Kynaki blessing or prayer, meaning ‘May you fear no evil’. It had been spread by their Spartoi throughout the Republic’s armed forces, which had adopted it as their own.
“I don’t believe in that, Commander.” Sadira said, eyes closed. The Midshipman looked almost peaceful, lying there, IV cord in one arm, thin blanket over her, eyes closed, voice soft.
“Neither do I.” Kim said. “The sentiment, however, stands.”
Sadira smiled. “Et mae’re guida doma.” Same language, a traditional reply-it meant, ‘And may he guide you home.’
Kim stepped out, making sure the door didn’t slam shut behind her. “Is she going to pull through?” She asked, looking to Cassidy Freeman, who also stood by the door.
Freeman shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I had to dialyze her again today. She’s still on oxygen when she sleeps. Her liver and kidneys don’t appear to be damaged, but if they are, she’s dead-even with the best equipment in the world, which we don’t have, I couldn’t pull that off. She’s having trouble breathing, but that shouldn’t be permanent-or at least, it won’t always be this bad. Short-term, there will be improvement, but long-term that will be what kills her, if nothing else gets her first.”
Kim nodded. “She’s a good soldier-one of the best I have. Please, do all you can.”
“I always do, Commander.”
Renault nodded. “Very... Interesting, Miss Shan. You raise some interesting arguments about the text, which we don’t have time to discuss in full at the moment, although I will say that the First Citizen himself has come down firmly on the pro-Capital Ship side of this debate.”
Kim stood, turned to the door, and stalked out of the room. That man was wrong-the War had proven that alright. She turned to the room across the hall, and stepped into the ballroom of the Palatine building. Appointed in a classic twenty-two-hundreds style, it was rumored to be directly inspired by architectural diagrams left behind by David Ben-Nun, the man who had stabilized the Xon war.
Reed Hazzard stood still in the center of the commotion of the room, smiling at her, wearing a dress uniform. His black jacket and pants had dark red highlights, and he wore a Commodore’s insignia on his shoulders. Kim inhaled sharply, adrenaline spiking. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He said, bowing and extending a gloved hand to her. “May I have this dance, Miss Shan?”
She smiled, laughed, and accepted his hand. “Of course, Mister Hazzard.” They danced across the ballroom floor. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that she still wore her Battle Dress Uniform, or BDU, from class a moment before-but no, she now wore a Dress Uniform like Reed, but the highlights on the pants and sleeves were a navy blue.
She held him close-she had been the one to drive their brief friendship, and yes, romance. That hadn’t stopped him from taking the blame-and scandal-but there had been nothing to blame anyone for or to be scandalized about.
“Bernan. It’s the only logical place.” He said, thoughtfully. “They’ll also be encrypting when they use them. It’ll be hard to tell.”
Kim nodded. Of course they would. “I miss you.” She said. “It’s been too long.”
Reed sighed. “I do too. Miss me, that is.” He winked at her. “But... I have to go. This can’t last. It didn’t, and it never can.” He pushed her away, stepping away, leaving her standing alone in the center of the floor. She saw Isabella Shishani dance by, with some man Kim didn’t recognize. Shishani shot her a look that was at once both scornful and sympathetic.
Reed stepped up, towards the Destroyer hovering in the center of the ballroom.
“Reed!” She shouted. “Reed!”
He didn’t turn as he stepped into it, the name Breaker Bay emblazoned on its hull. The hatch swung shut, and the ship swept away, antimatter drives blazing.
It only got a few thousand feet in the air before it exploded, fire and bits of steel raining down upon the dancers below.
Of course he left. She thought. He always would.
Kim stared at the wall, a cup of something hot-she forgot exactly what-clutched in her hands, a blanket around her shoulders.
The dream haunted her. It dominated her thoughts like a Warrior-class carrier was supposed to dominate the battlespace. Unlike a carrier, though, the dream actually managed to do so.
She shivered, thinking of Reed, and Terra, and her time at Fleet School. They were all gone now.
Something splashed in her mug-she could hear it, though her eyes were now closed. She touched her face. She could feel the wet, sticky paths that tears had taken as they ran down it.
She heard someone enter the bridge. Ali was supposed to have relieved her as Officer of the Night a few hours ago. That hadn’t happened for obvious reasons. She had no idea who was next.
She felt an arm wrap around her, hear the person kneel down beside her. “Ervin?” She asked, not sure of how she felt about his presence here.
“Yeah.” He replied. “I’m your relief on watch, but... Do you want to talk again?”
She smiled weakly. “You’re honestly being a bit of a creep here-are you deliberately choosing watches right after mine?”
She could hear the laugh in his voice. Damn, but it had been so long since she had heard laughter. “No-I was actually expecting to find Jae here. He’s... A little less cuddly.”
She decided to ignore whatever meaning he might be putting into that, and break down into further sobbing instead. “I’m going to have to remove him, Ervin... I need that man, but I can’t keep him on the Bridge...”
“What’s happened?” He asked, sounding confused.
“He’s... He’s our Agent.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a long moment.
She looked up towards him. “Ervin, I want you to replace him. I want you to be our Executive Officer. You’re the only person here I know I can trust, the only person that I actually almost understand.”
Ervin hesitated. She could see that he wanted the position, but... “Commander, with all due respect, I feel that my skills will be far more useful in Combat Systems. Our pilots are largely untrained, unable to function as a combat unit on their own. With all due respect, ma’am, I must respectfully decline your offer.”
“Ervin, I need you on my Bridge. Who else can I take? Kalkus? He’s a great mechanic, but he’s not a leader. Abrams? She can ‘lead’ in the strictest sense of the word, but she’s a jackass while doing it, and the crew hates her.”
“Ma’am, I understand that none of your current Deck Officers can be promoted. I could recommend several individuals for promotion-Hans Henrick or Deborah Chambers are both solid individuals who could do well in a Commissioned rank. However, all of your current Commissioned Officers are perfectly placed as-is.”
The thing is, he’s right. Jae said that he hand-picked this crew-and he clearly knew what he was doing. Excellent potential in the officers and enlisted personnel, but it will take so much work to realize it, and that requires time that I just don’t have.
“No, Deck Officer Ervin Norton, I need you to help me command this ship. I’ll take your recommendations into consideration for filling your previous role as the head of Combat Systems, but you will respect my orders and authority, and accept this transfer.”
He was tense for a moment, then said, “Yes, Commander.” He looked angry, but at least he had complied.
“You can still work with Combat for training and the like-indeed, this will be highly useful. But I need a second-in-command, and you’re the only one I feel that I can safely choose.” She thought for a moment, then made what she hoped would be seen as a concession. “And I would very much like for you to pick our new Officer. We’ll transfer Ensign Ali into whatever position gets freed up.”
Ervin, unfortunately, didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture as she had hoped. “Yes, Commander. Is there anything else I need to know before I begin my watch?”
She shook her head, looking down. “No, First Officer. Thank you for your service. Super Nos.”
“Super Nos.” He replied.
She returned to her room, still wrapped in the blanket. She hated doing this to him, but... Over the past few days, Ervin Norton had proven himself the most reliable of her officers, which was the only criterion she could base a decision like this off of under the circumstances. There was no room other than strict meritocratic promotion at the moment-although, in fairness, that was how it always should have been.
That still didn’t stop her tears. That dream had been traumatic, and she had been hoping that spending time with Ervin would help relieve that, not make it worse-although Ervin himself was rapidly becoming a stressful thought.
She curled up on her bunk, not even having taken off her uniform. She sobbed, thankful for the physical isolation of her quarters even as she lamented the equally real isolation of the position that provided them. She thought of VT Day the year before, those few perfect days between her graduation from Fleet School and her formal assumption of a position in the fleet. Memories of Terra, Reed, and a million other things flashed through her mind.
Stop it. She thought. Stop it. You’re the Commander of the UTFS Warbler. You have no time to indulge in self-pity and pathetic strains of thought like this one. You have an obligation to your crew, and yes, yourself, to put this behind you and deal with the new realities of life. stop crying. Get your act together.
“Greetings, crewmembers of the United Terran Fleet Ship Warbler. It is the thirty-first day of December in the Thirtieth Year of the Republic, approximately the sixty-eighth day of the war, and fourth day of the Warbler’s official combat status. All crewmembers will report to the Common Area in full Shipboard Uniform in the next ten minutes, where you will be briefed for the day's operations. Super Nos.”
Deborah Chambers rolled out of her bunk, grabbing her uniform, blinking to clear her eyes. The previous day had sucked on multiple levels-she had spent the vast majority of it inside of a Console, and when they had finally been allowed to emerge, one of their own was in Medical with serious injuries. She was actually interested in hearing what the Commander had to say this morning, for once.
Five minutes later, half the crew was already in the mess, in full uniform, ready for the day’s assignments. Over the past few days this had typically been a time when people were talking about something-even if it was mutiny, there were people talking.
Today though, there was silence. Deborah didn’t know Sadira Caspar that well, but she was well aware of the fact that she had quickly become one of the best-respected members of the crew. It hurt everyone to not see her in the Mess. It reminded them all of their own mortality a little too much.
“Good morning.” Deborah looked up to Commander Shan, who had just entered the room. She looked tired, and worn thin. “We’re going to have another busy day-although I suppose that, if busy is a relative value, this one won’t be. Allow me to rephrase: We’re going to have a full day.”
Shan visibly composed herself, then resumed speaking. “Mister Jae Ali has been relieved of duty as the Executive Officer of this ship. He will be succeeded by Deck Officer Ervin Norton. Executive Officer Norton will continue to aid in the day-t0-day running and training of Combat Systems for the foreseeable future, but Combat Systems will require an immediate appointment of an officer to be the actual leader of that section, especially while the ship is engaged in action. Therefore, we have appointed Ensign Deborah Chambers to the rank of Deck Officer.”
Deborah’s heart skipped a beat, old fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. Shan had just done what?
She realized that everyone was looking at her, and she had absolutely nothing to say. Breathing deeply, she brought herself to attention, and saluted the Commander. “Thank you, Commander Shan. I look forward to continuing to serve under you!”
Much to Deborah’s surprise, the Skipper looked relieved to hear that. “As do I, Deck Officer Chambers. Please see Executive Officer Norton after the meal for a rundown of your duties.”
“Today's Ops will involve salvaging what we can from the Hoatzin. Combat Systems and most of SENCOM will be the away team for the day, led by Deck Officer Abrams. She’ll brief you more fully, but we’re primarily interested in salvaging some hull plating, replenishing our Drone supply, and stocking up on consumables. Given that the Hoatzin is a Tactical ship, the layout will be slightly different, but there may be unique opportunities that arise aboard it. I expect these to be brought to the immediate attention of Deck Officer Abrams. Ansibilics, run some final diagnostics on the Ansible-we should have finally fixed the issues with the Fold. Deck Officer Kalkus, feel free to assign any free crewmembers to the Hoatzin’s salvage crew.”
Shan looked down at her notes. “Oh, and one last thing. Ensign Caspar was seriously injured in yesterday’s boarding ops. Her condition is serious, but Ensign Freeman has directed me to inform you that it is also stable. Please, be cautious aboard the Hoatzin. I hate to sound cynical, but it will be enough of a burden to care for one person with our limited medical resources. I’d much rather not have to double the issues. Super Nos!”
There were mumbled replies of ‘Super Nos’, but none of the typical shouts. Shan wasn’t the only one who was tired, and she probably hadn’t earned back any more respect with her remarks about Caspar. Deborah, however, had bigger things to worry about.
She grabbed a ration packet, and immediately sought out Ervin. “You asked to see me, Sir?” She asked.
He nodded. “You’ve officially landed the best job on the ship, Deb.” He said. “Is it alright if I call you that? It’s always awkward for the first few days after a promotion-don’t sweat any of that.”
“There’s absolutely no problem with that, Sir.” She said. “To be honest, I’m equally unsure of how to act towards yourself.”
He smiled. “Excellent. We can be awkward together. You absolutely deserve a position like this, for the record. You’ll be an excellent officer. Come, walk with me.” He said, stepping towards the door, grabbing a food packet of his own off the table.
She followed, listening to him talk. “You’re familiar with all the basics of flying a drone-hell, you’re the only pilot on this ship that might be able to go toe-to-toe with me in space, and from the way you fly I’d bet that you’ll outdo me nine times out of ten in an atmosphere.” He grimaced. “Damn wings. Anyway, you’ve got to get familiar with the tactics of the battlespace now. You’ve got to start worrying about Direct violations or threats over Indirect, even if your drone is somewhere else entirely. As part of Combat Systems, your job has always, indirectly, been to keep us alive-which makes intuitive sense, unless there’s something dreadfully wrong with you. The real difference is that you’re now going to be expected to direct seven other people as they conduct that mission, all while being expected to outdo them all each and every time you fly.”
She nodded. “‘The Console is the fairest environment you’ll ever be in. Respect is directly proportional to the number of kills you’ve earned on the side of your Console.’”
“Fleet School manual?” He asked.
“Yeah-Piloting wasn’t actually my course, though. The Instructor actually expelled me halfway through the first semester.”
Ervin raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Why?”
“I am, and I quote his official assessment, ‘An insubordinate jackass with an overinflated ego.’”
He nodded. “Now that we’re equals here, I can be honest: It’s true to an extent. Another mark of a good officer. It works for most of the ones we have here, after all.” He laughed, although Deb didn’t see his attempt at humor as funny. “I think I have a copy of the Fleet School Officer Candidacy Manual lying around somewhere-I’ll get it to you when I have a chance.” Ervin stopped walking, next to a room marked with the word ‘Skipper’. He opened the door-there was no concept of ‘Clearance’ onboard Gunboats like the Warbler. The only keys aboard were either brought by individuals for their Sea Chests, or the Commanders Antimatter Keys, used for various controlled substances aboard the ship.
“Why are we here?” Deb asked, stepping into the cramped office behind Ervin.
“We’ve got to get you a sidearm.” He said, pointing to safe on one wall. “That’s the Weapons Locker. It’s accessible only to the Commander.” He smiled, and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “Good thing that’s me, right?”
She stiffened. “What are those?” She demanded.
“These, Deck Officer, are exactly what we’re to be entrusted with. There may well come times, especially with this crew and these circumstances, when you will feel the need to provide a clear and immediate incentive to follow your orders. That’s why we’re issued weapons aboard the ship. Remember the other night when Commander Shan shot at Ensign Freeman?”
Deb nodded.
“While I disagree with that, that is the general idea. If you ever get to that point, you have failed as an officer to some extent, but you are still entitled to obedience as long as you are issuing lawful orders. And yes, these are Commander Shan’s Antimatter Keys. We’re trusted. Kimberly would trust myself, Alan Kalkus, or Celia Abrams with her life, and, if the Republic still existed, her career. That’s exactly what she’s doing right now with lending me these keys. And you are now a part of this cadre.”
Deb nodded again. “That’s why you all stood by her that night.”
“Yes.”
“And what about Ensign Ali?”
“What about him?”
“Does she trust him?”
Ervin was silent for a few moments as he unlocked the safe, pulling out a rack of pistols. “I don’t know what Ali did.” He said, voice slow and considered. “I do know that she didn’t kill him, which actually means a lot-she can’t afford anyone she doesn’t trust to some extent aboard this ship. She was very insistent that I accept this position, so she doesn’t envision him getting it back any time soon. All in all, I wouldn’t say, and if, God forbid, I assume command of this vessel, I will have to investigate the situation.” He placed the rack on the table, black weapons gleaming in the light. “Each of these weapons has the ability to wipe out what remains of our species, Deck Officer Chambers. You now possess, for all intents and purposes, the equivalent of a nuclear weapon.” He held one of the guns by the barrel, offering it to her.
She hesitated, hand wavering over it. Swallowing, she accepted it, and the responsibilities that it represented. It had been a long time since she had held a weapon. Oh, she had held guns often during various training exercises, but those weren’t weapons. A gun was for sport or for practice. A weapon was for killing.
“Take a few magazines-keep them with you, but don’t load it.”
“With all due respect, I’ve killed people before. I know how to avoid it when I want to.”
He nodded. “Understood. Good luck with your posting, Deck Officer.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“And if I can offer one final piece of advice: You’ll fail. You’ll fail a lot. You’ll mess up, get into snafus, make patently dumb decisions. Your crew will understand, even more so because you’re one of them. Just make sure you own up to it.”
“Like Commander Shan did?”
Ervin smiled. “Exactly like that. Commander Shan is, despite what anyone says, not just an excellent Commander, but a good person-and that may well be the more important quality under our current circumstances.” He replaced the weapons in the safe, locked it, and turned back towards the door.
“Sir... If I may ask a question...”
Ervin frowned. “Yes, of course.”
“Yourself and the Commander-what exactly is the nature of your relationship?” And don’t you dare tell me that it’s purely a working one-you’re probably only friends, but please, just be honest.
“Commander Shan and I have been working closely over the past few days. I’m not quite sure what the dynamic between us is, but it is not romantic. I wouldn’t describe us as friends either-what we have is the sort of dynamic that you will develop with your fellow soldiers after serving together. It’s a bond deeper than friendship, but more intimate than family.”
“You knew her previously?”
“By reputation only. We were in the same Strike Group, and of the same rank, but didn’t often have occasion to work together before now. I remember one time her Destroyer and my Air Wing operated together though, about a year ago... Let’s just say there’s been a massive improvement in her ability as an officer since then.”
“Understood, Sir. I’ll avoid further questions on this topic.”
“Thank you. Once again, good luck in your new position-but I really can’t talk, since I have to return this key.”
He was clearly being evasive, but she had bigger problems. She was terrified and excited by her newfound responsibilities, and, well... That was sort of the point.
“Super Nos.” She whispered, strapping her weapon onto her uniform’s utility belt. “Upon us.”
Ten was back aboard the Hoatzin, which was surprisingly un-terrifying. Jae Ali, Jane Steele, and Maria Prussin had gone aboard in spacesuits to make the hull airtight and get emergency lighting turned on. In other words, it was spooky and orange, but hell, it was better than being jumped at by a D in the dark.
The floor of the Weapons Control Room was clear, save for the single skeleton by the hatch they had entered though. The Warbler and Hoatzin were connected via the Bow Airlock. The gravity discontinuity was a killer as always.
Ten noticed Jane Steele looking down at the body. “First time you’ve seen a skeleton?” She asked.
Steele shook her head. “No. I’ve seen bodies before, in various stages of decay. Tridentine was a pretty horrible world. Our Planetary Security was horribly inept, so Tactical filled the gap. Well... You can probably guess how that turned out for a lot of people.”
Ten nodded. “Yeah.” She heard a Console door swing open, followed by a scream from behind her, and then it slammed shut. She rolled her eyes.
She turned to face Seth Albright, who looked like he had seen a ghost. “What have we learned?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.
“There’s a body in there...” The Weapons Officer’s knees were literally knocking together.
Ten strode over to the Console, looked it over, and nodded. “Probably, yes. It’s entirely likely. For instance, if the Warbler suffered rapid depressurization, where do you think they’d find your body?” Probably needlessly cruel, but hell, the newbie needed it.
She ripped the door open, and hauled the body out. It was beginning to thaw, although it hadn’t been stripped clean by the D, and it had been in vacuum until a few hours ago, so it hadn’t had a chance to decompose naturally. “This is Agent Lorena Dean.” Ten said, inspecting the name badge on the woman’s uniform. “This human being died in the service of our species. You owe her some respect, Ensign, even if she is an Agent.”
Albright swallowed, and nodded.
“Now that we understand that-” Ten said, kneeling down by the body, “Please also remember that she’d do this exact same thing to us if the situation was reversed.” She stuck her hands into the corpse’s pockets, pulling out an assortment of coins, a small power pack, and a small speaker. “Huh. Music lover.” Ten said, pocketing the speaker, and tossing the power pack to the pile in the center of the room where they had been accumulating such items. “Open up a console, kid-I just want you to do this once before you get to go play with the computers.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He swallowed again, walking to the next-nearest Console, opening it up, visibly wincing at the sight of the body. Madeline O’Hare had not suffered as merciful a death as Lorena Dean, apparently-her forehead was covered in dried blood, as was the inside of his console, suggesting that he had been injured well before the ship had depressurized. Her pockets yielded nothing but a half-used notebook and a few stubs of pencil, as well as a pair of worn Captain’s insignia-the Marines version, not the Navy one.
“So,” Ten said, standing, “Do you understand why we did this?”
“Not really.” Albright whispered, still pale.
“I want you to think on it-and I promise, it’s not just because I was picking on a newbie.”
They made their way aft, cutting through SENCOM, the Bridge, and Ansibilics, into ‘Cloaking and AI’. Seth hesitated by the door, still pale. “Is it safe?” He asked.
Ten rolled her eyes. “Yeah it is-we swept this room three times. You’re the only person on the Warbler even remotely qualified to comment upon any of this stuff.”
He swung the door open, entering the room. There were two structures, one at each end. The room was small and cramped, less than half the size of the Ansibilics room aboard the Warbler, but Ten could see Seth’s face light up.
He knelt by the massive black pylon on their left, glancing over the controls. “This is the cloak-damn, I want to play with this so badly...” He looked over it, its wires and tubes spreading in all directions. “Ridiculously fun. But...” He turned to face what appeared to be a simple computer terminal on Ten’s right. “That’s the real prize.” He flipped a switch on the computer, and the Mil-Ind logo flashed across the screen. A humanoid figure appeared above the console, glowing softly.
“User unauthorized.” The hologram said. It was male, built muscularly and proportioned as if it would be tall, although it was barely two feet high as a projection. Its voice didn’t seem to be computerized, and it flowed naturally.
Ten crossed herself-it really was an AI.
Seth grinned wildly-it really was an AI.
“Aetna, I am Ensign Seth Albright, of the UTFS Warbler. The TS Hoatzin has been disabled in combat, and all hands are lost. We are salvaging the Hoatzin to effect repairs upon our own ship, and would request your services.”
“User unauthorized.” Aetna repeated.
Seth’s face fell. “Initiate override mode. Root to user ‘Seth Albright’.”
“Invalid command. User Seth Albright, cease and desist attempting to utilize this Artificial Intelligence system without prior authorization, or this system will be required to obfusticate its code.”
“No, no!” Seth shouted, waving his hands wildly.
“What’s that mean?” Ten asked, glaring towards the AI with what she hoped was clear suspicioun.
“It’s unbreakable encryption. We don’t want that. We really, really don’t want that.”
Ten wasn’t sure that that was true. Church teaching was clear. AI were abominations, given their simulacrums of souls by the Devil himself.
Seth powered down the computer, and took out a screwdriver. “Fun fact.” He said, unscrewing a panel. “An AI can be kept on a single Ansible-sinked computer about the size of a human head. They’re deliberately designed to be able to be removed by anyone, and plugged into any computer.” He lifted the grate off of the front of the computer terminal, exposing a black box. “And I don’t intend to let this one get away.”
Sadira sat on her bed, facing Kim. “Commander, I’ve been thinking over a few things.” She said, coughing. “I’ve been horribly pretentious over the past few days. You’re an excellent commander, and I’ve been out of line almost constantly since the moment we met. I’m deeply sorry.” Sadira coughed again.
Kim looked down, and nodded. “Apology accepted, Midshipman. I look forward to having you back on duty. And, for the record, I have been far from blameless in these affairs. I’ve misused my crew-you all deserve better. Hopefully, going forward, I’ll be able to work more closely with you.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Sadira hesitated, glancing down to one of the IV cords in her left arm. “One more thing... Deck Officer Ali is a Tactical Agent, Commander. He fights like one, he acts like one, even that sword he used... That’s a Tactical weapon. My father had one back home, and Jae knew how to use one. There’s no doubt about it.” Sadira coughed again, though Kim was sure she also saw a few tears on the Middie’s face.
What she definitely saw, though, was blood on the Sadira’s sleeve.
“I know. I was informed last night, and he’s already been dealt with. Ervin Norton is the XO now, and Deborah Chambers has replaced Ervin.”
Sadira nodded. “Thank you, Commander.” Her voice sounded weak.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Kim asked.
“Prolong my stay in a space that doesn’t include Steele and Burton for as long as possible?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Super Nos, Commander.” Sadira said, laying back down. Cassidy had been very clear on how long they were allowed to speak for, and the Medical Officer was the one person aboard a ship that the Skipper had to answer to unconditionally, if not in theory, at least in practice.
“No’er intema ville.” Kim said. It was a Kynaki blessing or prayer, meaning ‘May you fear no evil’. It had been spread by their Spartoi throughout the Republic’s armed forces, which had adopted it as their own.
“I don’t believe in that, Commander.” Sadira said, eyes closed. The Midshipman looked almost peaceful, lying there, IV cord in one arm, thin blanket over her, eyes closed, voice soft.
“Neither do I.” Kim said. “The sentiment, however, stands.”
Sadira smiled. “Et mae’re guida doma.” Same language, a traditional reply-it meant, ‘And may he guide you home.’
Kim stepped out, making sure the door didn’t slam shut behind her. “Is she going to pull through?” She asked, looking to Cassidy Freeman, who also stood by the door.
Freeman shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I had to dialyze her again today. She’s still on oxygen when she sleeps. Her liver and kidneys don’t appear to be damaged, but if they are, she’s dead-even with the best equipment in the world, which we don’t have, I couldn’t pull that off. She’s having trouble breathing, but that shouldn’t be permanent-or at least, it won’t always be this bad. Short-term, there will be improvement, but long-term that will be what kills her, if nothing else gets her first.”
Kim nodded. “She’s a good soldier-one of the best I have. Please, do all you can.”
“I always do, Commander.”