Authors: Craig Alan
The burn wounds ripped open, and the pressure within the lock blasted a round chunk of the door into space. A cloud of white air surged past her and disappeared. The explosion was completely silent, and over in seconds. Ikenna removed a small pneumatic gun from the toolkit and sprayed foam around the edge of the hole, so that they would not burn or tear their suits. Elena leaned forward and carefully placed her hand on the rim. It was perfectly dark inside the airlock.
Elena was about to drop inside when someone grabbed her arm.
It was Rivkah. Silently, the doctor pointed to the surface at their feet. Elena knelt and ran her finger along the hull, and it came away laden with an inch thick layer of yellow dust. The entire ship had been caked in sulfur, but as she had moved back and forth her boots had scraped the coating apart beneath her. She could see the white hull beneath the grime—and a bit of blue.
Elena wiped the rest of the sulfur away with her free hand. Buried beneath the dust had been a symbol. Two blue triangles, meshed together to form one shape. From the right angle, it almost looked like the ship they were standing on.
It was a Star of David.
King and Country
Six months earlier
E
lena slid into her chair at the flight station. Around her, the first shift bridge staff pretended to examine their own screens as she pulled the straps around her body and tightened them. Elena was not a superstitious woman—she didn’t think of herself that way at least—but it hadn’t right seemed right for her to take this chair before she had earned it. But her new orders had come down the day before, and today she took her seat on the bridge for the first time as commanding officer of
Gabriel.
“Glenn Station has cleared us for departure,” Hassoun said.
She had run out the clock.
Gabriel
would depart Glenn Station at noon today, and the Agency would need one hell of a long rope to put a noose around her neck from a million kilometers away. And it would be tied soon enough. Helena Dixon would turn power over to Jacob Erasmus in Cairo in just a few minutes. The opposition would form the government for the first time in history, and they would demand answers.
“Mr. Nishtha, confirm that all systems are operational.”
“Aye, Chief. Let us go around the room.”
Under usual circumstances, internal communications were Hassoun’s responsibility. But as executive officer and head of the bridge department, it fell to Vijay to verify that
Gabriel
was spaceworthy. One by one the rest of the ship checked in, and their status indicators flipped from red to green.
Networks check.
Integrity check.
Fuel cells check.
Solar check.
Batteries check.
Electrical check.
Environmental check.
Utilities check.
Recycling check.
Medical check.
Consumables check.
Radiators check.
Rockets check.
Thrusters check.
Gyros check.
Avram check.
Telemetry check.
Communications check.
Guns check.
Missiles check.
Ballista check.
All crew present and accounted for.
“The board is green, Chief,” Vijay confirmed. This was purely ceremonial—most of the crew had volunteered to work extra shifts to get the ship in perfect flying condition, and the final diagnostic tests had all been completed over an hour before.
Gabriel
was now entirely self-sufficient. But the launch status check was a hallowed tradition, and it would be a bad omen to break with it.
“Mr. Yukovych, take us out. Slow ahead.”
All around the ship, the umbilicals and clamps that had tethered
Gabriel
to her mother station for the past two years released and retracted. The ship was free, but continued to roll slowly within her dock under momentum.
“Aye, Chief, slow ahead.”
He activated the avram, and
Gabriel
slid from her cradle and into the world. Elena tapped her bracelet and activated the shipwide address system.
“This is the Chief speaking.
Gabriel
is away.”
The bridge bulkheads were far too thick and sturdy for her to hear the cheers that had rung out.
“Mr. Yukovych, set a course for Mars.” They would briefly refuel and resupply there before setting out for the next leg, towards Pallas inside the Belt.
“Aye, Chief. Estimated transit time, forty five days and fifteen hours.”
It had once taken unmanned probes close to a year to travel to the red planet, and if it weren’t for the need to slow down upon approach,
Gabriel
could have shot past it in even less time. She wouldn’t get anywhere close to the outside on this deployment, and could burn her rockets as hard as she wished.
“Does the engine room report ready for ignition?”
“Yes, Chief,” Hassoun said, “Chief Gupta says we are—Wait. Emergency traffic. Helm, full stop.”
“Confirm, full stop,” Demyan said.
Such things were relative—
Gabriel
continued to orbit the Earth. Elena turned to Hassoun.
“Que diantres, Mr. Masri, what is this?”
“Don’t know, Chief.” Hassoun’s eyes flitted back and forth between his monitors. “Emergency traffic from
Victory
. Just says
All ships full stop
.”
“
Victory
? Where does she get off telling us what to do?” Elena asked.
“I don’t know, Chief,” Hassoun said.
“Vijay, threat assessment, now,” Elena said. “Mr. Masri, don’t worry, you did the right thing.”
“The sky is clean, Chief,” Vijay said a moment later. “Nothing is there that has no right to be.”
“Does Glenn know what’s going on?” she asked Hassoun. He shook his head.
“They just asked me the same thing,” he said.
“Que mierda?”
Elena took over a scope and zoomed in on HMS
Victory
, several thousand kilometers away. She
was a sphere, with a diameter a little longer than
Gabriel
was wide. Heat sails lined her equator and meridians, and at six different poles stood her gunnery towers, each loaded with missiles and heavy cannons.
Victory
was an ugly, squat little ship to Elena’s eyes, with none of
Gabriel
’s predatory sleekness. She
was more ruggedly armored than any vessel that Elena had ever served on, and better armed. But she could barely maneuver, and had spent her entire life stranded high above the Earth, to wait for an outsider invasion that had never come. The Space Agency had long since decommissioned the orbiters and turned them over to the national militaries, and it had become a patriotic honor to own one—the Royal Space Force operated
Victory
, and the American Guard was particularly proud of its
Enterprise
.
The computer scanned
Victory
in every band of the electromagnetic spectrum, and automatically appended its analysis to the image. Each tower was hot, and her radar was active and searching. Her fists were up.
“Mr. Yukovych, can we close on her without using rockets?”
“How close?”
“One hundred kilometers.”
“Perhaps we should maintain our current distance, Chief,” Vijay said. “She is not going anywhere, after all.”
“And she’s not telling me what to do with my ship, either. One hundred kilometers, Mr. Yukovych. Opposite thrusters only. Try not to spook her.”
While
Gabriel
made her approach, Elena backtracked to the minute before
Victory
had sent its emergency broadcast, and viewed the hologram in full spectrum. She could see drumbeats of energy radiating from the ship in the microwave band.
“Mr. Nishtha, isolate those pulses. I want to know what she was looking at.”
He quickly tracked down each individual bearing, and traced them to their destinations.
Victory
disappeared from the holo, and was replaced by the sphere of the Earth. One by one, radar contacts appeared in orbit. There were dozens of them, and they pocked the blue planet with tiny red wounds.
“Glenn Station,” Vijay said. “Gagarin, Tereshkova, Sarabhai.
Atlanta, Kolkata, Zheng He.
”
“
Gabriel,”
Hassoun said.
“And what looks like every unmanned satellite platform in orbit,” Demyan said.
Dozens of atmospheric generators still dotted the sky, pumping out ozone to replace what had been lost a century before during the Storm. They orbited alongside almost as many neutronium factories and carbon fiber mills, whose products could not be made under gravity. The loss of these facilities would have plunged the Global Union into a worldwide depression.
But from what Elena could see, they were in no danger at all.
“Not every one, Mr. Yukovych,” Elena said. She highlighted several of the contacts. “SouthStar-3, PULSAR 2145, BCP Gamma…these are all independent platforms.”
The Space Agency had firmly threatened to shoot down any armed vehicle that the independents sent into orbit, but peaceful platforms like communication satellites and solar collectors were permitted, as there was no way for a modern technological society to function without them—the Storm had taught that lesson well. And now
Victory
had taken aim at every one she could find.
“Mr. Masri, get me a channel to Solstice.”
Before he could do anything, the communications board lit up with another emergency call.
“It’s
Victory
again.”
Do not approach. Maintain distance 100 km. Say again do not approach.
“Do as she says, Mr. Yukovych,” Elena said. She turned back to Hassoun. “What about Solstice?”
He shook his head.
“Autoresponse.”
“They’re overwhelmed. Hit them with emergency calls until someone picks up. And send this to
Victory
while you’re at it.”
Victory, Gabriel stands ready to give aid.
The answer came back momentarily.
Gabriel, do not approach. Nuclear device onboard.
Elena and Vijay locked eyes, and Hassoun muttered to himself in Arabic before switching back to English.
“Solstice is coming in now.”
Gabriel, do not approach. Maintain current course and speed. Orders will follow.
“Are there any other Agency ships nearby?”
“
Atlanta
is two thousand kilometers out,” Vijay said. “A few civvies, and a lot of satellites. It’s just us, Glenn, and
Victory
out here.”
“And the station is completely unarmed. How many missiles does
Victory
carry
?”
Vijay checked, and whistled softly.
“Forty eight. Eight in each turret.”
“Mr. Masri, tell Solstice that we have a clear shot.”
Hassoun stared at her.
“That’s an order, Mr. Masri.”
This time, the reply was immediate.
Gabriel, stand down. Do not fire. Do not approach.
“If there was a nuke onboard Overstar, there could be one on
Victory
also,” Hassoun said.
“Maybe,” Elena said. “But who wants to use a nuke in orbit? We’re far enough above the atmosphere that there’s hardly any air for a blast wave. A nuke would need to detonate within a kilometer or two to do any real damage.”
“Not if they plan to strike the Earth,” Vijay said.
“True, but look at who they’re aiming at,” Elena said. On the holo, dotted lines spidered out from
Victory
to her targets. Not one of the strands reached down to the surface. “All the hostages are up here with us.”
Solstice, believe nuclear threat false alarm.
Negative, Gabriel. Nuclear threat confirmed.
“Bullshit,” Elena said. “How?”
“They do seem quite sure,” Vijay said.
Elena could feel the deep waters stir beneath her. There was something down there, but she couldn’t quite see it.
“Do we have the crew roster for
Victory?”
Names and faces appeared one the holo, and Elena began to scroll through them. She had no idea what she was looking for. But
Victory
had only eighteen officers—she would either find it soon, or not.
Elena stopped on a middle-aged man with sandy hair, brown eyes, and a trim mustache.
“Group Captain Winston Campbell-Azzam,” Vijay said. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Oh, fuck,” Elena said.
“Beg pardon?”
Down in Tahrir Square in Cairo, Jacob Erasmus had just taken the oath of office. And so had his Sovereigntist allies. As the staff stared at her, openmouthed, Elena called up the footage from the ceremony. There was almost as much white in the square as Liberal gold. She hurriedly scanned the dais and its ranks of dignitaries. Erasmus was there of course, next to the president of the World Court, along with Liang, his new deputy, and Helena Dixon, the outgoing premier.
But Sir William Campbell-Azzam was nowhere to be seen.
Victory, Gabriel stands ready to assist. Awaiting orders.
“If there’s a nuclear terrorist on that ship waiting to blow a couple cities off the map, he’ll tell us to go to hell. If not….”
Gabriel, expecting attack. Nuclear device will deploy if destruction imminent. Please defend.
“Clever bastard,” she said. “He just drafted us.”
“Chief, you will explain just what the hell is going on here when you find the time, correct?” Vijay asked.
“Mr. Nishtha, keep the guns trained on that ship. Kill any missile it launches.”
“Aye, Chief.”
“And transfer the ballista to forward control,” Elena said.
“Chief?”
“I need your eye on the ball, Vijay.”
He nodded after a moment, and Okoye acknowledged the transfer from his position at the firing chamber.
“Hassoun,” Elena said, “I’ve got a new recipient for you. Emergency traffic.”
“Sure, Chief.”
“But whatever you do, do not route it through standard Agency protocols. I want a direct connection if possible. If not, commandeer civilian channels. Do whatever you have to do, and I will take responsibility. But not only do I not want anybody to hear what I’m saying, I don’t want them to know that I’m saying anything at all.”
“Okay, Chief.”
Hassoun nodded, just once, and she knew that he could do it.
“Very well. Contact Global Command Authority.”
The entire bridge stared at her this time. Elena didn’t repeat the order, but merely settled back in her chair to wait. Hassoun bent over his station and went to work.
“I think I’ve got it,” he said a few minutes later. “I also think I just cut off every Transcom mobile phone in North Africa.”
“Here’s the message I want.”
Sir William sends regards.
They waited.
Gabriel, explain your communication.
Believe nuclear threat false. Within close combat range. Awaiting orders.