“Can’t we just forget about all this?” Genvass asked in plaintive tones. “Just turn around and leave it all to the Troika?”
“And go where, exactly?” Remi demanded. “You know what the Aggaaddub did to Freya, not to mention the rest of the fleet.”
“We could return to Baishain,” he said. “I could vouch for you and the others. I’m certain they would grant you safe refuge.”
“And when the Troika comes callin’, demandin’ our heads?” Maggie grunted. “No way they can stand up to that kind of firepower, even if they wanted to. They’d hand us over without a second thought.”
“What if we went to the Troika directly and gave them everything we had?” Xuilan suggested. “Then they’d have no reason to come after us.”
“We tried that,” Samara reminded her. “Remember how that turned out?”
“So we don’t go to the Tu’udh’hizh’ak, or the Aggaaddub,” Slavko suggested. “What about the Eleexx? We’ve heard nothing from them. Maybe they’d be willing to listen to reason.”
“And maybe they’re just saving up for something special,” the Corsair captain growled, eyeing his crew. “I’m hearing a lot of dissension from the ranks, and I don’t like it.”
“Cap’n, you know we’re loyal,” Xuilan said quietly, “but this is the Troika we’re talking about. We can’t stand up to them.”
“Xui’s right,” Slavko agreed, “we haven’t survived this long by being heroes.”
Remi rose from his chair with a dangerous look when Maggie whistled for attention. The conversations came to a crashing halt, as all eyes turned towards her.
“We told you all what the Oivu said to us,” she reminded them, a no-nonsense expression on her face. “The Troika ain’t screwin’ around, this one is for all the damn marbles. And you forget makin’ a deal with the Eleexx, or anybody else. The Big Three would rather see us dead than let their rivals learn what we know. They’ll kill us without battin’ an eye.”
“But we don’t know anything,” Prash protested.
“They won’t take the chance,” Maggie countered. “The stakes are too fuckin’ high.”
“So that’s it then? We just give up?” Sergeant Kai said in disgust.
“No way in hell,” the Tinker snarled. “We only got one play left…we find this mystery planet ourselves, before they do.”
Silence greeted her pronouncement. “Maggie...would you like me to give you an estimate of our odds if we make the attempt?” Alphad asked gently. “They’re not encouraging, I’m afraid.”
“So what else is new?” the Tinker fired back, her hands defiant on her hips. “They’re already comin’ after us. You wanna wait for them to blow our brains out?” From the back of the throng she spotted Diggs watching her, her heart lurching in her chest as she managed a brief smile, before returning to her impromptu speech. “We’re screwed no matter what we do, so I ask you again…so the fuck what?” Maggie glared at them, as if they were misbehaving children. “We’ve been everyone’s whippin’ boy for nigh on two hundred years, so how is this any different? ”
“It is different, Maggie,” Blye implored her, touching her arm, “surely even you see that. Perhaps we’ve been mistreated by the other races since losing Earth, but you have to admit there’s a colossal difference between disdain and indifference...and being hunted to extinction.”
An icy chill blew through the compartment, one that had nothing to do with the Environmental controls. “Maybe it is different,” Maggie allowed, “and maybe the odds of us finding that planet are slim to none. And maybe we’re just foolin’ ourselves, thinkin’ we got any chance at all.” The mood of the crowd was grim. “So what are we supposed to do? Lay down and die? If that’s what you think, there’s the airlock,” she said, pointing down the corridor. “Go ahead, be my guest. I sure as hell won’t stop you. But I’ll tell you this...if that’s all humanity was about, we wouldn’t have lasted a year after the Yīqún destroyed our homeworld.”
Maggie had never considered herself an orator, great or otherwise, but as she wound herself up, she could feel the mood starting to shift. Maybe it was because she was speaking from the gut, filled with the bile and resentment of living the life of a refugee, year after year. Maybe she’d just finally had enough.
You keep kicking a mutt, no matter how mangy it is...eventually, it’ll bite back.
“I’m tellin’ you all, it’s come down to this,” she growled, inciting them, “either we quit right now and wait for them to slaughter us...or we go for the fuckin’ gold. And you know what? Maybe they kill us anyway.” A mutinous spark twinkled in her eyes, as infectious as the plague. “If they’re gonna come after me no matter what I do, I’d rather go out swinging, instead of just barin’ my throat for the butcher’s blade.” She jabbed her finger at the throng, deliberately provoking them. “So what the hell are you gonna do?”
An awkward silence followed; the crew and passengers looking around as if they were seeing one another for the very first time...when the sound of a slow, deliberate clap arose from the group.
Remi Hadad, Corsair captain, pirate and smuggler, stood defiantly on the deck of his ship...and applauded the middle-aged Tinker turned revolutionary.
Others joined in...one or two at first, but soon they were all giving her a hand, with some whistling and cheering as Maggie stood in shock. Hell, she was no politician; she was just pissed off. Her speech had been nothing more than her venting her spleen, but it seemed she’d touched a nerve, so as they clapped Maggie felt her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. She’d never cared for the spotlight, and she liked it even less now. If she hadn’t been surrounded with her back to the wall she’d be looking for an escape route...when she felt a familiar tug at her leg.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Diggs stared up at her, his mismatched eyes filled with pride...and smiled.
A sob broke through as she dropped to her knees and hugged him, afraid to let go...as the cheers roared to a crescendo.
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Defiant speeches are one thing, but reality is something different. They still had to get to Earth, find the scout’s body, and hope the SAR transponder still contained the data they were looking for, a tall order even on the best of days. Add the fate of humanity to the mix and you had yourself one hell of an explosive situation, topped off with a short and finicky fuse.
They reached the fringes of the Perseus Arm without incident, making the last leg of the journey to Earth. Worlds and stars were sparse in this region, and Maggie wanted to believe they’d put the worst behind them.
But the Tu’udh’hizh’ak knew where they were headed, which meant the rest of the Troika likely did as well. Any of the races could be laying in ambush, waiting to intercept them, perhaps hiding among the icy planetoids of Sol’s Oort cloud. If that was the case...they’d never reach Earth alive.
Let ‘em come, Maggie thought to herself. She’d spent her entire life running and hiding. No more. This time they’d show the bastards what the children of Terra were made of. And if, in the end, it cost them their lives? Well, then...they’d give those sons-of-bitches a Last Stand they’d remember for a thousand fucking years.
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The EVA was almost textbook as their magnetic boots locked onto the scout ship’s hull. Her fuselage was scarred and pitted, the marks of her last battle and all those before. Even though she was still just an apprentice, it amazed Maggie that given the damage she’d observed; the craft had returned to Earth at all.
Not that it had done the pilot any good in the end.
“How’s it look?” Captain Ngô asked over the comlink. “Any problems?”
“...none that I can see,” Master Schnoebelen replied, as he surveyed the airlock, “though we may have to burn our way in.”
“It’s your call,” the captain informed him. “Keep the link open so we can monitor your progress.”
“Understood,” the Tinker answered. “Maggie, plug in the AUX.”
She double-checked her tether before opening up the interface panel and plugging in the auxiliary power unit they’d brought over from the Katabasis. A century and a half in space unattended guaranteed the ship’s onboard system would be long dead. With any luck, the AUX would provide enough power to cycle open the hatch.
She watched the telltales for several minutes, before giving out an audible sigh. “Nothing, Master. The power isn’t getting through to the mechanism.”
The news didn’t seem to surprise him. “Find the manual override, and see if you can open the hatch that way,” he ordered.
“On it,” she told him, already moving. To the right, opposite the electrical panel, was the override, a simple crank system designed as a backup in case the craft lost power. She unhooked her tether and transferred its clamp to a nearby stanchion, anchoring herself before she pried open the panel and gripped the wheel, straining with all her might.
Nothing. It was frozen solid.
“Looks like we’ll have to cut,” she panted, stopping to catch her breath.
“I was afraid of that,” Master Schnoebelen sighed, moving beside her as he studied the airlock. He muttered to himself for several minutes as he took measurements, before pulling out a pen and drawing an irregular line on the hull. “That’s your mark,” he said, pointing it out to her. “Make your depth 5 centimeters.”
Her Master believed that hands-on experience was the only way to teach. Removing the laser cutter, she strapped it in tight against her body before breaking out the Stirrups, locking each leg in place as she knelt over the mark. The laser was an effective tool used properly, but it could be deadly if she so much as twitched. Her Master watched her preparations in silence as she adjusted the beam’s focus, ready to take over the moment she decided she was in over her head, or if she fumbled the job too badly to continue.
There was no way she would let that happen.
“Polarizers on,” she warned him, giving him a few seconds to darken his faceplate before she pressed the trigger, the laser coming to life and sending a beam into the metallic hull. Maggie took her time, not rushing it, her breath growing ragged as the suit struggled to keep up with the sweat coating her body, its cooling system now set to max. She was determined to get it right, and when she finished, she felt her Master’s hand grip her shoulder.
“Well done,” he said with pride, while she wriggled like a puppy inside her suit at his praise. “Give it a few minutes to cool, and we’ll pry it open.”
“What do you think we’ll find?” she asked him.
“Assuming the reports are correct? At least one body,” he told her. “Are you prepared for that?”
“I’ve seen bodies before, Master,” she sniffed. It wasn’t as if she were a child.
“If there is a corpse in there, we treat it with respect. We’ll deal with that first before we dig through the ship’s memory.”
“I understand,” she said softly. It was SOP whenever they came across a derelict Terran vessel that any remains be identified, if possible, before being given proper interment.
Finally he announced it was time. The pair tugged on the hatch together as it slowly gave way, grinding in protest for every centimeter gained. The internal workings must have corroded over the years, but with great effort they were able to wrench it aside. Her Master entered first, with Maggie following close behind.
The damage was even more evident inside the small craft, as explosive decompression wreaked havoc with the internal systems. The wreckage was so severe Maggie wondered how the pilot had reached Earth at all, let alone achieve a stable parking orbit.
As for the ship’s captain...the junior apprentice craned her neck around to look over her Master’s shoulder as they both moved forward. An old-style space suit was just visible on the vessel’s sole crash couch, and as they took station on either side Maggie was just able to make out the face of a desiccated corpse through the faceplate, the name “LT A. Tsvetanov” stenciled on his helmet.
Maggie didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have the words.
As Fortune would have it, her Master did. “Rest easy, Lieutenant,” he said gently.
“...you stand relieved.”
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“...Maggie.”
She opened her eyes to find Rúna gazing down at her. “You asked me to wake you when it was time.”
“...right,” she groaned, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Diggs stirred as well; since her speech, he’d forgiven her. He was still deeply hurt by her actions, she could see it in his eyes, but he’d chosen to give her another chance.
There was no way she was going to screw that up.
“Hey,” she said softly, jarring him awake. The boy blinked and then stretched, yawning as she stood up and pulled a shirt on over her head, before stepping into a pair of ship shoes, little more than glorified slippers. She accepted the corporal’s aid in standing up, lately sleep didn’t come so easy to her. Maggie took a few moments to stretch her back, sighing in release as a couple of vertebrae popped back into place with an audible crack.
“All right,” she informed her escort, “best not to keep the man waitin’.” By this time Diggs was up and dressed, so the trio made their way forward to the Gyrfalcon’s Bridge, arriving to find the other passengers and crew already waiting. There was a quiet hush over the throng as they watched the screen, while Remi and his team made their final adjustments.
Maggie felt a cold chill brush against her…The Ghost of Christmas Past.
Slavko looked up from his display. “Nothing Cap’n. Scope’s clear.”
Everyone breathed a small sigh of relief, as the Corsair captain slewed the main monitor around, tweaking the image before finally settling on a dim yellow star.
“There it is,” he informed them, his words gentle and reverent.
“...Sol.”