Captain Wong watched the main display and cursed softly.
His scouts had completely failed to locate the enemy fleet. Their efforts to sweep the system had made a lot of progress—nearly half the area surrounding the planet where the Wayfarers had been found was now clear—but his opposite number must have planned for a longer withdrawal than he had anticipated. Worse, thanks to Nevlin’s orders, he had been forced to watch the three-ship detachment he had been trailing slip out of engagement range, leaving him with no trace of enemy contact, no clue that he could use to lead him to their main fleet.
Fortunately, the situation meant that at the very least they would not cascade out of the system. Wong had come to know his opponents well over the past few days, both by intensive study of the personnel dossiers on their various officers and by personal experience. If this Admiral Delacourt had been willing to abandon her forces, they would have done so to escape already, and no such signal had been detected. They wouldn’t leave their small detachment behind, and the blackout on broad communications systems which protected them would make it impossible for them to link up.
It was an admirable attitude, one that Wong confessed the Directorate failed to follow in difficult circumstances. There were worse flaws than the inability to look past the needs of the few to the needs of the whole, and a certain sort of honor could be seen in the actions of the Wayfarers.
Wong frowned, disturbed by the treacherous thought. These Wayfarers were traitors, not fellow warriors. They had perpetrated murder and destruction on Eris at a scale only the Wild Colonies had matched. There should be nothing admirable about them.
Yet in the past few days, he’d seen no sign of a ship equipped with a mass driver, or even any assembly of ships modified to generate that type of force. He strode over to his console and tapped a few buttons, sifting through the various sensor readings of the Wayfarer ships, and his frown deepened. Not only were those ships completely incapable of committing the type of planetary bombardment which had crippled Eris, the grand majority of them were entirely civilian crafts. The same dozen or so ships had been involved in their defense each time, and those ships …
Wong stiffened as he recognized a pattern in those readings. They had carried battle damage, repaired battle damage, before any actual contact with his forces.
It was possible that they had taken damage during their capture of the Concord—such an explanation would handily dismiss the scars the grand old carrier had shown as well—but that capture had supposedly been done so quickly that the Directorate forces had barely any chance to respond. Indeed, even the damage to the Concord herself was inconsistent with what he had been told. To his eyes, it looked far more like the old ship had been involved in a sustained firefight—before he’d ever seen her!
A flicker of unease ran through Wong as he studied the images of his enemy. Had the Directorate somehow gotten it wrong? There could be a different enemy present, perhaps the mysterious contacts that had clashed with his scouting forces a short while ago. The memory brought only pain and regret along with it. He’d lost seven pilots to only two confirmed kills, and they had hauled their own dead rigs away before his scouts could recover them. It left him no closer to any clue of their identity, technology, or purpose, but the reports of his scouts had left their lethal expertise clear, and their presence in the battle space was unnerving, to say the least.
Wong made his decision and nodded. There was too much going on that needed an explanation. Perhaps the Admiral would agree, given the chance. Since it had become clear that the fleet had lost track of the Wayfarers, Nevlin had retreated to his flag deck, where he could “observe the movements of the fleet” from a “clearer perspective”. Wong doubted that the Admiral was doing any such thing, but it was not the type of thought a flag captain should entertain about a superior officer. Regardless, the anomalies were important enough to disturb whatever contemplations the admiral was engaged in at the moment.
He crossed the command deck, aware that the eyes of his bridge officers were on him. They gave no sign of distraction from their duties, but the movement of their captain was always in the back on their minds, and he knew they had to be wondering what he was going to say to Admiral Nevlin now. Wong wondered that himself, even as he climbed the stairs to the flag deck and pressed the button to request entry.
Wong waited a moment, and couldn’t restrain a frown. The response should have come easily, whether the Admiral wanted him to enter or simply to wait outside, but Nevlin did not activate the intercom to say either way.
For a heartbeat, Wong believed that the computer had somehow malfunctioned and that the button had not sent the signal to the admiral’s console. He pressed it again before he could stop himself, but still no response came back to him. With considerable difficulty, Wong kept himself from looking for his executive, Commander Hummel. It would not look entirely appropriate to ask his exec if the ship’s systems were working properly, especially when he had no reason to suspect the competence of his staff in maintaining those systems.
Wong reached for the button a third time and stopped. It came to him, with a sudden clarity that brought him to a brutal halt. Admiral Nevlin had seen the indicator—and had ignored it. Rather than acknowledging his flag captain, or even asking him to wait until he was finished with more important matters, the Admiral was pretending he wasn’t there. Or Nevlin had acknowledged Wong was there, but wished to indicate that he was of no consequence.
The sting of such a dismissal wounded Wong deeply. He felt a flush of shame rise to his cheeks, and he let his hand fall back to his side. All his accomplishments, all his efforts on behalf of the Known Worlds, had been for nothing in the Admiral’s eyes. Nevlin believed him unfit for command, unworthy of his post, and had chosen, yet again, to humiliate him rather than to consider his advice.
For a long minute, Wong stared at the closed door and wondered what to do about it. The longer he stood and waited, the worse the discomfort grew. He had clearly been snubbed by his commanding officer, and the instant he turned away, his entire bridge crew would know it. Worse, by no longer waiting for an acknowledgement from Nevlin, he would be returning the rejection, the lack of respect, which had been expressed to him there. The crew would know, if they did not already, that Wong did not trust the man who had led him to this place.
Wong’s mind caught on that statement, and he pondered the reality of that question. Did he trust Admiral Nevlin? It made no difference, not when the man had command authority, and not when his duty required him to follow Nevlin’s orders, but that aside, did the admiral deserve his confidence?
While he pondered that question, caught in the limbo Nevlin had damned him to, he heard another officer ascend the stairs behind him. Wong turned in surprise to find Command Hummel there. She glanced to the closed door, her eyes cold and brittle for a moment, before turning her gaze back to him. “Captain, we have another report from Three-Five-R. Their patrol has run across more wreckage from the battle, but he believes there might be something for the combat analysis, sir.”
Wong blinked. It was a standard report, something that could demand his attention, but realistically a task his executive officer could easily have handled on her own. For that matter, it was a responsibility for the combat information watchstander, or failing that, the rig watchstander, to analyze the report and summarize it for him. He glanced back out over the bridge to see what had those officers so occupied—and froze.
The activity on the bridge had come to a halt as his officers paused to look up at him. There, despite the fresh humiliation Admiral Nevlin had inflicted on him, Wong found a defiant sort of respect in the eyes of his crew. One or two officers—Lieutenant Morris at his engineering station, Lieutenant Commander Erickson at the combat information post—actually went so far as to nod in reassurance in Wong’s direction. Wong felt a sudden surge of support from those silent exchanges and he slowly nodded back to them, acknowledging—and in truth, thanking—them for their confidence.
Then the moment was broken, and the bustle of the command deck returned. Wong glanced at the closed door, and then turned his back on it. He offered Commander Hummel a smile. “Thank you, Commander. I will be along shortly—I suppose my business with the Admiral will keep after all.” She nodded, offered a small bow, and then retreated down the steps, her stride unhesitating.
Wong waited only a moment longer before following her down. Whatever his doubts about Admiral Nevlin, he knew where his duty lay. If it meant that he could safeguard the lives of his crew and reward their faith in him, he would do whatever it took to finish the mission he’d been given. The Wayfarers might have escaped him once, but they would not do so again.
And once he returned home, Wong had every intention of making sure he never served under Admiral Nevlin again.
Gabe woke slowly, his eyes once again suffering under the assault of the lights in the medical bay. The fact that those lights had started to seem a bit familiar was just discouraging, and he groaned as a racking assault of body pains washed through him.
Extended use of a rig’s BCI typically created a mountain of fatigue for the user, but Gabe had gone far beyond the boundaries of “extended” this time. Unless he missed his guess, he’d been in the rig for nearly twenty hours of flight time, some of that spent unconscious. His body was going to be aching for days from the strain, though he hopefully would still be able to fly his rig—if the machine was even repairable.
He looked around, dazed from the experience of simply waking up, and his eyes fell on a figure leaning up against the doorway nearby. Nakani smiled at him, her normally fierce expression now just as intensely satisfied. “Well, Angel Boy, I believe you might owe me an apology. Didn’t I tell you you’d be grateful for letting us practice someday?”
Gabe worked some moisture into his mouth to speak. “I guess so, Ms. Nakani. Thanks for the pickup.”
Nakani grinned openly. “You’re welcome, you bastard. You came this close to packing it in even after I snagged you. Next time, let’s cut it a bit cleaner, all right?”
“A sentiment I believe I agree with, Captain Miller.” Susan’s voice was gravely neutral, and Gabe rolled his head to look in her direction. She stood at ease next to his bed, her gaze resting on him with no sign of looking away. “The last time I saw you injured, you gave me a promise to avoid it in the future.”
Gabe cracked a smile. “I tried to keep that one, Admiral. I suppose I’m just no good at it.” He heard Nakani snort from her post at the doorway, but he ignored her. Susan was the important one, after all. “So the Penance made it back to the fleet, I take it?”
“With some help.” Susan’s eyes flicked to Nakani, and Gabe nodded. Obviously there was more to that statement than she was telling him, more than she wanted Nakani to hear, but she continued in that calm, level voice. “The important thing is that you’re nearly to the Concord. When you arrive, I will be waiting for you. There’s something that you will need to see.”
Confusion threaded through Gabe, and he frowned. “When I arrive …”
Susan continued, overriding his words. “Ms. Nakani will transfer your rig to the Foundry. They’ve been instructed to give the CTR high-priority status for repair. Our rig forces have taken heavy casualties, and we will need to have you leading them, if you’re able.” She waited for a moment, and Gabe nodded again. He hadn’t let her down against the Bennett Securities forces, and he certainly wasn’t going to do so here. “Good. Then I’ll allow you to rest. I’ll see you soon.”
Then she paused, and reached out to lay a hand on Gabe’s arm—yet he didn’t feel a thing. He froze, but she spoke in a low voice before he could say anything. “I’ve missed you, Gabriel. Take better care of yourself. Admiral Delacourt out.”
With that, she faded away as if she hadn’t been there at all. Gabe stared at the spot where she had been standing, trying to process the situation with his brutally overtaxed mind. He’d heard occasional horror stories about what the BCI could do to someone who had used the interface for too long. It was part of the danger that clung to BCI implants, the psychological damage that could result from being a bit too closely bonded to the rig’s computer system. If he had been affected that way by his own prolonged flight …
Nakani’s laugh brought his head back around. The mercenary was still chuckling and shaking her head. “No, Angel Boy, you’re not crazy. Your admiral’s just discovered some kind of trick that she won’t tell anyone anything about. She popped up here a few days ago and gave us the course to take us back to the fleet.”
She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, maybe she’d share the details with you, by the looks of it. Would you care to tell a girl who’s gone to the trouble of saving your life?”
Gabe grunted. “We’ll see.” Then he grinned. “If not, I’m sure I’ll find some other way to pay you back. Maybe I’ll even get the chance to put you into combat again. On our side this time, of course.”
Nakani snorted. “Some thanks that would be. I’m not sure you get how favors work, Wayfarer.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways, Ms. Nakani.” Gabe stretched slightly, and sighed as an armada of aches and pains answered the movement. “So what brings my high-and-mighty rescuer down here, anyway? I would have thought you’d be giving Mccalister headaches.”
The mercenary rolled her eyes. “I just figured you would want to talk to someone who was actually here. And to make sure you know how much you owe me.” Nakani shoved herself away from the wall, brushing her prisoner’s uniform as if to get dust off it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you sanctimonious little bastard, I think I’ve got a few maintenance routines to run. On my rig. That I haven’t gotten shot up twice in two weeks. If you’ll excuse me.”
Gabe watched her head for the door, and a thought occurred to him. “Wait.”
She stopped, and he struggled to find a way to phrase his question that didn’t make him sound insane. “Nakani, when you picked me up, did your sensors register anyone … else … out there?”
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Nakani’s eyebrow quirked. “Been talking to your little green men, Angel Boy?” She shook her head. “Nope. Just your busted rig and empty space.” Then she hesitated, her expression turning a little uncertain. “There was something odd, though. The course your rig was on didn’t match what we’d seen from the battle. It was at a sharp angle, moving along at a rate that didn’t quite make sense. Did your tetherdrive manage that course change before it cut out?”
Gabe shook his head. “No. I just managed to brake my speed and stop spinning before I ran out of time.”
Nakani watched him for another moment, and then rolled her eyes again. “Damned Wayfarers. Already want you to believe in some unseen God, and now they want to throw aliens into the mix too.” She headed for the door again. “Rest up, Angel Boy. You’ll have plenty of chances to get yourself shot up soon.”
When the door closed, Gabe settled back into his bed and thought over the situation. Susan had obviously been up to her own tricks, and he had no idea what effect the strangers were going to have on the coming battle, but one thing was certainly clear. The Lord had planned an interesting life for one Gabriel Miller, and He’d given him yet another chance to live. This time, Gabe told himself, he was going to make sure he took advantage of the opportunity.
Susan felt a flicker of anxiety as she approached the OMNI system room. It still made her nervous to be around the ancient machine, and Chief Kowalski’s baffled reports had not made it any easier to use the interface. The engineer hadn’t been able to discern precisely how the system was doing what it did, and his efforts to delve into the mystery had been stymied by Susan’s own need to use it to keep track of the Penance. She’d led the detachment on a slow, careful course, and the former mercenary ships had rejoined the fleet only an hour ago.
Her heartbeat quickened as another aspect of her worry became clear. Gabriel had come back with those ships, and his miraculous survival had been cause for celebration throughout the fleet. He was already being transferred back to the Concord, riding the shuttle over with his father, who’d flown out to him from the Summer Rain. She’d gotten him back, after she’d thought him lost forever, and now they were going to meet again.
If only she could spend that meeting doing something more enjoyable than explaining how they were all going to die.
Susan restrained a sigh and drew to a halt next to the doors of the OMNI system. There were Wayfarer soldiers posted there now, a constant, rotating guard armed with battle armor and plasma weapons. Behind her, more guards had been posted, some every few meters, to keep anyone from getting to the OMNI chamber. She now understood better than anyone why this place had been kept secret, and she had no intention of allowing it to fall into anyone else’s hands.
It wasn’t long before Gabe and his father came down the hallway toward her. Susan fought a smile as she saw both of them supporting themselves on canes. Elder Miller’s face was animated and enthusiastic, an expression she was glad to see. He had seemed so weighed down with despair when they had thought his son was lost, and that sadness had seemed so out of place and out of character that it had worried her severely.
The look on Gabriel’s face, on the other hand, nearly convinced her to laugh out loud. His disgruntled feelings were plain, despite his similarly obvious efforts to conceal them, and the frequent glances toward the cane he held made the source of his unhappiness clear. Then he caught sight of her, and a smile buried that latent frustration. He waved to her as they approached, and she smiled in reply.
When they drew close, she offered a quick nod to the Speaker of the Way. “Elder Miller. I’m glad you could join us.”
The leader of the Wayfarers smiled sheepishly. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way. Gabriel here was worried that I would intrude on your personal time.” He nudged his son, who glowered at him. “I just couldn’t pass up the chance to see what’s got Hartwin so excited. He said it was the command deck his ancestors used?”
Susan hoped that the Speaker had not noticed her blush; apparently her mind and Gabriel’s ran along lines much more parallel than she had supposed. “Not precisely a command deck, Elder Miller. Something much more interesting.”
“I bet.” Gabe was staring with interest at the closed door flanked by guards. “It lets you communicate with any ship you want? Full hologram, no lag time?”
She nodded. “Indeed, though there are some limitations. The engineers have quite a few theories on how it manages what it does, but they usually assure me that it should be impossible.”
Gabe smiled. “Well then, how can we pass something like that up?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Would you care to introduce us, Admiral?”
Bemused, Susan shook her head. “I suppose I should, Captain. If you would follow me.” She led the way past the guards, pausing for them to perform a standard identification check. Then she led the two Millers into the chamber itself.
It had not changed much since the first time it had been activated. The same grating glimmered with the projection lights beneath it, and the same sensors watched from around the edges of the ceiling. The Millers both examined the room in silence, and then Gabe spoke up. “Well? How does it work?”
“Apparently, the interface is rather similar to that which is involved in a rig pilot’s BCI.” Susan saw interest bloom in his eyes, and continued in a more level tone. “Unfortunately, it can only be calibrated to one person at a time. The only person who can even be in the chamber with me while it’s active is the Keeper—which I imagine was an exemption that would allow the Keepers to oversee their fleet commanders.”
Elder Miller nodded absently. “That does seem like a condition the Keepers would have installed. You say that it allows you communication with any ship?”
Susan hesitated. “Not every ship, I am afraid.” She gestured to the center of the room. “OMNI was apparently a part of the basic computer systems installed on a majority of Directorate and Guard warships. However it functions, the basic coding and equipment built into those warships allows it to make contact with them. Since the Penance and the other mercenary craft were once Guard forces craft…”
“…you were able to communicate with them easily.” Gabe finished the sentence for her and ran a hand along the doorframe. “It would probably work pretty well on something like our Caravan-class frigates too, but something like one of the Deliverance-class ships wouldn’t manage the connection as well. Am I right?”
Susan nodded. “You are correct, Captain Miller. OMNI tries to adapt to the unfamiliar programming, but the interface will only allow me a basic communication call, with very little data transfer at a distance. Battle damage and other issues cloud the connection further.” She paused and looked back to the center of the room. “The interface is rather impressive, and might confer a number of distinct advantages for a large task force, but I’m afraid it’s of more limited use to us, especially against such overwhelming odds.”
Her mention of the Directorate task forces brought a frown to Gabriel’s face and a grimace to Elder Miller’s normally cheerful expression. Both Millers seemed to want to respond, but the Speaker beat his son to the act. “Are you optimistic about our chances of escape, Admiral Delacourt?”
Susan paused, wondering for a moment how to phrase her answer. She settled on blunt honesty; Elder Miller had never quailed before facing the truth. “No, Elder Miller, I am not.” Gabriel grunted, but she ignored him and pushed forward. “Quite frankly, our last encounter was a disaster that has nearly crippled our combat forces. If the enemy manages to catch us again, we are finished.”
Elder Miller glanced back toward the doorway, his expression bleak. “I had believed that you said it was possible to cascade again before they were ready to pursue. Your strategy was to run farther than they were able to follow, beyond the edges of their orders.”
“It was.” She let out a slow breath before continuing. “Unfortunately, there were factors that I did not appreciate. Firstly, the enemy has Special Operations personnel present.” When the Speaker looked at her blankly, she clarified. “The triple S rigs. They are only sent on specific, select missions, missions endorsed by either the inner circles of the Directorate or the Governing Council of the Known Worlds. If their orders originated at that level, I cannot imagine the enemy commander permitting a retreat short of a disastrous defeat—and they may persist in their efforts to destroy us even then.”
Susan looked back and forth between the two men, gauging if the information had been understood and what effect it had made on them. Their pale faces told her that they did understand, and that her concerns were clearer now. She continued. “We have a second problem as well. The scouts from the Penance managed to get a closer hull scan of the enemy flagship before they were driven off. From what they’ve reported and from my own experience, I believe we are fighting a Supernova-class carrier.”
Both Gabriel and Elder Miller jerked in surprise, and Susan frowned. She hadn’t expected them to recognize that ship class. Then she realized that they were looking above and behind her, and she turned.
There was a hologram representation of a Supernova-class ship, in relatively accurate detail, floating in the center of the chamber. Susan’s eyes widened as she watched a rig launch from the carrier’s rig bays. The detail of the hologram was incredible, down to the realistic battle scars and the name scrawled across its bow. Imperious. She’d heard of that ship before, when she was a member of the Directorate. How had the OMNI obtained it? Did it have access to her memories as part of the interface, or was this a bit of data it pulled from another source?
Susan shook her head, adding another question to the growing mental pile on the subject of her battle system, and then continued. “As you can see, this class of warship is rather impressive. It was designed to carry as many rigs as the Concord, can sustain far more battle damage, and can ship with enough extra pilots and rigs to sustain a prolonged campaign. Worse, the cascade drive aboard a Supernova-class can charge nearly twice as fast as our own, which means that even if we cascade out of the system right now, they can follow us.”
Gabe’s voice was grim. “And then they’ll have a full week or so to hunt us down. We can’t run fast enough.”
“No, we can’t.” Susan turned back to them, weighing their attitudes with her eyes. “I had some hope that we could beat them, that our forces might be enough to stave off defeat, but we’re quickly running out of options. Unless something changes soon, we will be destroyed here, or in the next system. I see no other alternatives.”
Gabe accepted her evaluation with quiet dismay, but his father leaned forward, bracing himself on his cane. His eyes were intense. “Admiral, there must be some tactic that will allow us to outmaneuver them. This is not the first time we have fought an overwhelming force.”
She met his gaze levelly. “You are correct, Elder Miller, but the damage we have suffered severely limits the tactics available to us. Much of our rig force is incapacitated or destroyed—and even if it were not, the enemy has superior numbers and an elite cadre of pilots who can outmatch anyone we have.” Gabriel winced, but she forced herself to continue. “Our ships have been damaged, and we are running out of forces to protect the civilians. If the enemy managed to slip behind us next time and opened fire, thousands of noncombatants would die. Worse, if the Concord suffers a hit in the wrong place, we would be stranded here.”
Elder Miller did not back down. “The Lord has not brought us here to fail, Admiral. There must be some way.”
Susan threw up her hands, frustrated. “If I knew the enemy’s disposition, their strength, or even their general plans, I might have something to work with, Speaker. As it is, I have no idea how to obtain that information, and without it, I have no options. Our next battle could occur at any time, and I have no way to prepare for something I can’t see. We don’t even know where they are!”
“Well, that will be easy to fix, at least.” Gabriel’s absent-minded comment brought her tirade to a sudden halt. Elder Miller stopped his defiant stand as well, and they turned as one to stare at him. He glanced at them, and then scratched at the back of his head. “Susan, you said this thing can only talk with ships that had originally been Directorate built and programmed, right? Because they share the basic equipment and coding that Directorate ships share?” His grin bloomed on his face as he saw her understanding. “That all Directorate ships share?”
Susan spun on her heel, sudden enthusiasm filling her. She addressed the battle system in a stern voice. “Display the current positions of all Directorate or ex-Directorate forces in this system.”
The image of the Imperious disappeared, and a map of the system took its place. On the outskirts of that star system, the green and blue lights representing the mercenary ships and her former Directorate craft glowed brightly.
Further into the system, near the combat that had almost taken Gabriel’s life, a red blotch of lights glimmered. Susan stared at them in silence, and then turned to look back at Gabriel. Her first instinct was to throw her arms around him, but discipline and her own stubborn pride kept her to only a nod. “Well done, Captain Miller.”
Gabriel smiled back, as if he knew what she was thinking. “The Lord always provides a way, Admiral.” He looked at his father. “Dad, maybe you could give us a moment to sort things out? We may have the beginnings of a battle plan here, and I’m sure you will want to update the Council and Keeper on how things are going.”
Elder Miller nodded, his eyes on the display above them. He moved to the doorway, pausing once to look back at the two of them. A shadow of fear had crossed his expression, as if he worried that in letting Gabriel out of his sight again, he risked losing him entirely. “Don’t be too long, Gabriel.”
“I won’t, Father.” Gabriel watched his father leave, and then turned to Susan. He studied her for a moment before directing his attention to the hologram of the star system above them.
There was a pause, a barely comfortable silence between them once that door closed, and Susan sighed. She peered at Gabriel, who was still apparently absorbed in the hologram, and decided that waiting for him to speak was a futile effort. “Gabriel.”
His gaze came back to her, and for a moment she lost the ability to speak. It had not been too long ago that she’d imagined she would never get the chance to see him again, and now he was here, safe. For the time being. Susan cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the thickness she felt there. “You seem to be doing well.”
Gabriel shrugged. “The fatigue is lessening now, and I think I should be ready to leave this behind soon.” He gestured to his cane with disdain. “I really shouldn’t make a habit of this. Otherwise the cane’s going to stick.”
His faint self-deprecation brought a smile to her face. Susan stepped closer. “I would endorse that, Gabriel.” She looked away. “When you were hit …”
The words caught in her throat again, and another silence told the story all on its own. Gabriel shuffled his feet, the cane clicking against the grating. Then he reached out and gathered her to him, putting both arms around her for a moment. “I know, Susan. I know.”
For a while Susan simply lost herself in that embrace, taking comfort and reassurance from the warmth and love she felt there. Gabriel murmured something she couldn’t quite hear and kissed the top of her head. It almost felt like home.
Then she pushed back slightly to glare at him. “The next time, Captain, I don’t know if I will send them out to find you. So I expect you to work harder to avoid it. Do you understand?”
Gabriel laughed. “Well then, message received, Admiral.” He gazed back at the display, his expression becoming wistful.
Susan watched him, wondering what occupied his attention. When he spoke, it was almost absentminded. “They were out there again, Susan. A couple of them were actually pulling me along before the rescue rigs found me.”
For a moment, she didn’t understand what he was saying. Then it came to her. “The aliens? You’re sure you didn’t just imagine it?”
The words were out of her mouth before she could restrain them, and she half expected him to step away once he felt the sting of her skepticism. Instead, Gabriel only shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Nakani said I’d altered course, and the way they acted …” He shook his head more firmly. “They’re out there, Susan. I know they are—and I don’t know if we’re ready for them. Next time, though, I’m going to find out more.”
Susan heard the calm resolution in his voice, the worry about what his experiences meant, and realized that there was more here than some adolescent prank or a delusion brought on by trauma. Her own doubts began to fade, weakened in the face of his resolve, and she shifted in his embrace to look up at the display with him. They watched the display move for a while, silent, and then she spoke. “Do you think they will contact us again?”
If Gabe noticed her lack of mockery or cynicism, he didn’t show it. “I do. If not, they may be expecting us to come and find them instead. There’s more going on here than meets the eye, and we’ll need to figure it out together.” Then his serious tone lightened. “Once, you know, we finish with these.” He gestured to the blotches of red lurking near the site of their battle.
Despite the lack of humor in their situation, Susan chuckled at his cavalier tone. “Of course. An entire Directorate task force shouldn’t delay us too long, do you think? Maybe a day or two. Then we can go chase aliens and found a colony.”
“All in a day’s work. The Lord never grants rest to the wicked, as they say.” His chest shook with chuckles of his own. When they subsided, he stepped around to face her again. His eyes were serious. “Susan, I’m glad to be home.”
Susan looked up at him a moment, and then wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him. The contact was far, far too brief, but she felt sated somewhat, after such a long time. When Susan pulled back, she ruffled his hair a bit and smiled. “Then let’s keep you here a while. But for now, Captain, we have plans to make and a task force to ruin.” She stepped back and gestured for him to follow. “Let’s get to it.”