Admiral Cora Din of the Fifth Fleet stood on the bridge of the ISS Striker. Her face was in its usual pinched, disapproving expression.
"Who was responsible for calibrating the sensors?" she asked. "They're measurably out of spec."
The whole bridge cringed silently.
"I..." Lieutenant Levi Voth swallowed heavily. As her Assistant, it fell to him to know everything that went on around her. It was also his role to bear the brunt of her displeasure if he couldn't come up with the names she wanted.
"The paperwork was correctly filled out when I prepped the bridge for you, Admiral," he said. "The sensors were calibrated earlier this week."
She sneered down at him.
"Calibrated by whom?" she asked.
Lieutenant Voth looked at the data in his scanner reluctantly. He hated to name names, but he knew the consequences for delaying such an answer. Admiral Cora Din loved having a name to blame.
"The paperwork was signed off by Lieutenant Naria Mishkol," he said.
"I want her in my office first thing tomorrow," Cora Din said.
"Admiral, I don't think she did the work, she just signed off--"
"Signing off is taking responsibility. Now get someone in here to recalibrate these sensors."
"Yes, ma'am." Lieutenant Voth glumly set a meeting schedule and contacted one of the techs in maintenance to come in for the sensors.
The tech arrived a few minutes later and began working on the scanners.
"Don't forget to account for extra gravity," Admiral Cora Din reminded him. "We're in a sector with a black hole."
"Yes, ma'am," the tech said. He knew better than to talk back.
He frowned at his instruments.
"Admiral? There's a gravitational fluctuation... a mass spike in the jumphole."
"Then your readings are wrong. Run them again. Remember that there's a black hole right out there."
"Of course, ma'am." The tech pinched his mouth shut and re-ran the numbers.
"Same result, ma'am."
"The only reason we'd have a gravitational fluctuation out here is if there were a massive fleet on their way into the sector. Check it again."
Lieutenant Voth cleared his throat.
"Admiral? There's something inbound from the trailing jumphole."
Admiral Cora Din's eyes widened, and her already-thin lips almost disappeared as the entire Ninth Fleet streamed out of the trailing jumphole.
In the midst of the fleet, the ISS Swordheart emerged, proud and bold.
"Admiral, they're deep-scanning the entire Fifth Fleet."
"Contact that man immediately!" she yelled at the comms officer.
Admiral Stonefist's face popped up on the bridge monitor
"What is the meaning of this?" she barked.
"Of what, Admiral?"
"Why are you in my sector?"
Admiral Stonefist raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't realize we were parceling out ownership of sectors to Admirals now. I'm following up a lead to find my Assistant."
"You brought your entire fleet to find one person?" She sneered in disbelief.
"You wouldn't?"
"It's a waste of resources," she scoffed.
"Only if you think of your people as a waste."
Everyone one the bridge was suddenly very, very careful to make eye contact with absolutely no one, but an unspoken "oooh" could be felt throughout the bridge. Admiral Cora Din took a deep breath, her mouth twisted with fury.
"Well your assistant's not here," she said. "Go look elsewhere."
"I will indeed look elsewhere if I don't find her here."
Admiral Stonefist frowned as someone on his bridge spoke to him.
"Admiral Cora Din," he said, "have you modified the control signatures for your ships? We're getting some unusual readings--"
"Stop trying to interfere with my fleet, Stonefist. It won't distract from your unsanctioned activities--"
"Admiral Cora Din?" her nav officer said, looking up from his console, his face pale. "Something's wrong..."
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Kinnit crept forward through the darkness. She took a deep breath and darted silently across the the dim hangar bay. She stopped near the hangar doors. She pulled the cover off the control panel and looked at the board inside.
After this was all over, she was going to have some serious recommendations for the Navy about the security of their manual controls. But for now she was glad that the panel was easy to rewire.
In the hours since she'd escaped, she'd discovered that she was on board the ISS Astral, a construction ship, used to open jumpholes.
The Imperium ran the galaxy, and the backbone of the Imperial economy was the jumphole system. Rapid, safe transport of goods and people kept the money flowing and the economy growing.
Some jumpholes occurred naturally, but the Imperium had discovered how to open them more or less where they wanted them. The process was slow and expensive, but now there was an extensive network of jumpholes spanning the galaxy.
Any notable system would have quite a few, connected to a jumphole nexus, a cluster of jumpholes that connected to other major systems.
This ship, the Astral, was a short-hop jumphole constructor, designed to create emergency jump holes for the fleet in a crisis.
That was all Kinnit had been able to find out in her brief recon so far. She didn't even know which fleet she was in yet, but it didn't seem like the Ninth. She didn't want to spend much more time reconning, though; she wanted to get a signal to Grimthorn.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Kinnit didn't know how extensive the conspiracy was on board. As far as she knew, the entire crew could be in on it. Probably not, but she didn't dare risk contacting anyone on board. By the same token, she couldn't use any of the comms on board, since anyone in authority could quickly shut her signal down and trace her.
So she decided to steal a ship.
Steal a ship, remove the comm override, take off from the Astral, and start broadcasting like crazy. That was the plan.
She'd already chosen a ship she liked. It had the name "Digger" painted on the side in big friendly letters. It was a utility torpedo shuttle, mostly for firing probes, stabilizers, and jumphole ruptures. It was the spacebound equivalent of a bulldozer.
Kinnit had been inside prepping it, and she'd already developed an affection for the little ship.
With a small ship, she could manually override the comms. She'd accomplished this by ripping out the remote control module with a crowbar. She apologized to Digger, but she felt like the little ship had already forgiven her.
Now Kinnit was at the hangar bay door, wiring a delay into the control panel. It would only be for a few seconds, and it would cook the controls, but it would give her time to get to Digger before the hangar bay door opened, exposing her to hard vacuum.
She hoped.
The little ship was already warmed up and ready to go. She finished the rewiring. The face of the control panel was in her hand, still loosely connected to the wall with a bundle of colorful wires.
Kinnit set herself in a running position, one hand on the button, her face pointed toward Digger. She took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the open hatch. She'd timed in, she could get to Digger from the panel in seven seconds. She had to hope the timer was enough.
She squeezed the button, then took off running.
She leapt into Digger and pulled the hatch shut with plenty of time. The hangar door hadn't even started opening yet. She cycled up the engines, ready to take off as soon as she could.
The doors stayed closed.
Kinnit stood at the ship's controls for a full minute, waiting for them to open.
Finally, with her cheeks puffed out in frustration, she opened the hatch and walked back to the doors' control panel.
The panel lights still showed "Ready." She hadn't pressed the button hard enough.
It seemed anticlimactic to go through the process again, but she re-set herself, and squeezed the button hard.
She blasted toward Digger. She knew she'd pushed the button hard enough this time. Even over her heavy breathing, she could hear the whine of overcharged electronics, and the popping of capacitors as the board blew.
A honking alarm blared as the hangar bay doors unlocked, preparing to open before she was even halfway to Digger. She discovered new speed, her arms and legs scissoring madly, her tails swinging, keeping her upright as she ran flat-out for the ship.
She'd done some track and field in the Academy, but nothing like this. Imminent spacing focused the mind and body wonderfully.
The hangar bay doors cracked open with a hiss, and a powerful wind rushed past Kinnit as she ran, slowing her down, trying to blow her back toward the hangar doors.
With tears streaming straight back from her eyes, she pushed her body to its utmost limit. She was so close, but the wind was strengthening as the doors opened wider, threatening to push her back and fling her into the cold reaches of outer space.
She reached out and managed to hook two claws in the edge of the hatch on Digger.
With a mighty yank, she pulled herself onboard. She hit the floor and rolled. She spun and pulled the hatch shut, dogging it hard.
Kinnit was heaving breath, but she didn't have time to recover. She dashed to the ship's controls and took off as carefully as she could.
Digger's rear lifted, but its front skids were still resting on the deck as the engines cycled up. With a hair-raising screech, Digger plowed forward, leaving deep scratches on the deck.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Kinnit cried.
She'd read a lot about piloting ships, but she'd never actually done it except in games.
One of he skids snapped off, then she was clear of the Astral. Digger flew free in open space.
"You're a good ship, Digger!" Kinnit cheered. "I knew you would be!"
She looked at the scanner as she opened the comms channel and prepared to start transmitting.
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Captain Denth of the ISS Astral watched his bridge monitor with interest. The tense exchange between Admirals Stonefist and Cora Din was being broadcast throughout the fleet. Not by intent, but anybody with a little knowledge of the comms protocol could easily dial in, and everybody was curious about why the Ninth Fleet had showed up all of a sudden.
Curiosity brought them, then the drama kept them.
"Cora Din, something's wrong!" Grimthorn shouted. "You need to shut down your remote module system! We're getting crazy readings from your systems!"
"It is precisely this kind of hyperbolic, overexcitable reaction that makes you such a liability to the Navy, Stonefist," Cora Din said, her voice ice cold.
Denth could wish he had some popcorn. He knew precisely what was going on, and he couldn't wait until the last phase of the trap triggered. He wondered if he could record the video to share with Senn later.
It was everything he could do to keep a fat, smug smile off his face.
"Captain Denth, sir?" one of his bridge Lieutenants said. "We've got a problem."
Denth responded carefully, keeping the smile out of his voice.
"Oh? A problem with the nav, Lieutenant?"
"Uh... no sir. One of the hangar bays opened up. Hangar 17. But we never sent a signal."
"What?" Denth was stunned. The hangar doors had nothing whatsoever to do with the plan. "What?"
He floundered, mentally, and froze in place as the first stirrings of panic began to creep over him.
Sir, it looks like one of the utility torpedo shuttles has blown out of the hangar... wait, no it's under power... sir?"
Denth's face went shock white.
He didn't know how, but he knew exactly who was on that shuttle. And who wasn't in her cell.
"Sir," the comms officer said, "the shuttle is transmitting."
"Blow that thing out of the sky right now!" Denth shrieked.
"S-sir?"
"SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT NOW!"
Despite being badly rattled, the Lieutenant at the weapons console tried to respond.
"All w-we have online are ion cannons, s--"
"DO IT NOW!"
With shaking hands, the young Lieutenant loaded an ion shell and fired it at the little Digger.
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Grimthorn seethed at Cora Din.
"Cora, check your systems!" he shouted, his face red with fury.
"My name is Cora Din, Admiral, and I'd prefer if you address me by my rank."
"Just check your--"
"Admiral!" Lieutenant Renning broke in. "There's a transmission I think you should hear!"
Ordinarily he would have ignored a second message when he was arguing with Cora Din, but something about Lieutenant Renning's voice made him pause.
"Put it on the screen, Lieutenant."
"Are you ignoring me, Grimthorn?" Cora Din shrieked. "You had better--"
With a swipe, he muted her as the transmission came in.
Kinnit's face appeared on the screen. His heart soared as she appeared.
Kinnit! She was alive!
"--peat, this is Assistant Kinnit of the ISS Swordheart. I've been held captive by unknown persons on the ISS Astral, who are in league with the Oryndrax, an enemy of the Imperium. I'm escaping in a utility torpedo shuttle, designation D16-6ER. Anybody in transmission range, please get this message to Admiral Stonefist of the Ninth Fleet. Message repeat, this is--"
A huge, goofy grin split Grimthorn's face.
"That's my girl," he said quietly. Then he put his Admiral face back on.
"Lieutenant, get eyes on that shuttle, and open comms."
The shuttle appeared on the screen and comms opened.
"Assistant Kinnit," he said. "This is Admiral Stonefist of the ISS Swordheart, Ninth Fleet, responding to your distress."
Her eyes lit up as his message reached her, and her face brightened in a way that melted his famously stony heart.
"Grimthorn! I should have known you'd be right here!"
His eyes crinkled with mirth as he dropped his facade.
"Kinnit. I'm so glad you're okay. I'm very, very happy to see you." He realized he was using a tone that would start rumors, but he didn't care. "We'll get you coordinates for the Swordheart. You should be able to get here in just a few minutes." He gazed at her with open relief on his face.
"Sir, there's something you need to know about the Astral," she said. "There's a traitor--"
A movement caught Grimthorn's eye on the other monitor. Kinnit's shuttle was flying quietly through space when the familiar white streak of an ion shell converged with her ship. It exploded, a blue cloud of ionization sheeting through space and buffeting the shuttle. The engines flickered and went out, and the shuttle began to tumble gently. Kinnit's transmission went staticky, but held. Her voice dripped through in between bursts of interference.
"...looks...ion shell...lost engines, but comms are...no directional...repair systems are functional..."
"Get us moving over to that shuttle," Grimthorn ordered. "We'll pick her up. And warm up the blasters." His face darkened. "I want to know who fired at Kinnit."
As the bridge crew scrambled to carry out his orders, the monitor with the comms to Cora Din caught his eye. She was still yelling, but not at him. With a frown, he unmuted her feed.
"--figure out why my fleet is moving without orders!" she screamed at someone off-screen. "What do you mean the ship's moving on its own? That's not possible!"
Grimthorn looked at the scans on the monitor. The entire Fifth Fleet was turning, as a single unit, toward a nearby jumphole.