Flagship (A Captain's Crucible #1) (25 page)

Jonathan tightened his grip on the armrests as the bridge continued to shudder under the fighter attack.

"The alien capital ship just braked, hard," Ensign Lewis said. "It looks like they're turning around."

"Coming back for more, are they?" He stared at the display overlaying his vision. The Avengers from Orange Squadron had been harassing the capital ship the whole time; it had launched several more fighters to defend against them.

Jonathan relaxed his grip when he caught an officer looking at his hands. It was best to portray a sense of calm composure for the benefit of his bridge crew. It wouldn't do to continue clasping his fingers so hard that the knuckles were white. "What about the dart ship containing the prisoners?"

"It hasn't turned around. Maybe they're fleeing."

"They're probably a bit distracted by our rescue party," Robert said.

On the tactical display the
Salvador
abruptly broke formation, decelerating.

"What's she doing?" Jonathan said. "Comm, raise Captain Rail."

"She's responded, voice only," Lazur said.

Jonathan accepted the connection from Rail.

"Get the
Salvador
back in formation, Captain!" Jonathan told her.

It was several seconds before her response came.

"We're dealing with an alien intruder at the moment," Rail said over the comm. "We'll return to course shortly."

"Bullshit. I want you back in line now."

In answer, the connection terminated.

"Damn it," Jonathan said. He had wanted to let the Avengers chip away at the capital ship for longer, but he was going to have to decelerate the fleet early if the
Salvador
was to have any chance of survival.

The bridge rumbled badly as the nearby enemy fighters made another attack run.

"Sir, if we increase speed, we can shake off these fighters," Miko said.

Shake off the fighters, or return for the
Salvador
...

"Your orders, Captain?" Miko said.

Jonathan stared at the 3D display.

"Captain," Robert said. "Do we abandon the
Salvador
to her fate?"

Jonathan felt his insides clench up.
Abandon her to her fate.

"If we turn back," Jonathan said. "And concentrate our Viper fire again, there's a chance we can disable the already damaged capital ship before she takes any of us down."

"It's possible our Avengers will disable the ship for us," Robert said.

"True. But I can't leave the
Salvador
behind. If we go, she has no chance at all."

"And if we stay, there's also a chance the enemy fighters will disable
us
," Robert pointed out. "Black Squadron and our upgraded point defenses can only do so much."

"I know." Jonathan took a deep breath. He had made up his mind. "Miko, if we begin decelerating the task unit now, will we reach the
Salvador
in time to fire a combined broadside at the capital ship?"

"Yes, but we'd have to begin the deceleration immediately," Miko said.

"Do it," Jonathan said. "Fleet wide."

Miko echoed his orders.

"Coordinate with the task unit," Jonathan continued. "I want every vessel to target the particle beam generator on the nose of that ship. We'll fire when we close to fifteen thousand kilometers. And pray that our combined Vipers do enough damage to disable it."

* * *

Barrickblinked several times. His eyes burned painfull
y—
it felt like someone had thrown sand into them. Or splashed them with pepper spray, like in bootcamp. He bent over in agony, shutting his eyes to rub them. The copiously flowing tears wet his fingers.

"Telepath Barrick is awake," the ship's AI intoned. Its voice sounded cavernous, as if spoken from the top of one of the
Callaway's
hangar bays.

The
Callaway
. Yes. That was where Barrick was. He had a partial memory of sitting cross-legged in front of the alien, his eyes wide open. That would explain the incredible dryness he felt in his sclerae.

The pain slowly receded. He lowered his arms and tentatively opened his eyes. He stared at his palms.

My hands.

An unseen energy seemed to flow through his fingers. It was like he was conscious of every nerve impulse passing through them.

I've retained the power, then. I feared I would lose it when I finally awakened. But I'm more powerful than ever before.

He sat up straight and stared at the amorphous black mass that lurked in front of him.

And I have you to thank for this.

When he had fallen into the vortex, he had woken as a young man once more in the Academy, his whole life before then merely a dream. He had gone about his days, completed his studies, finished a hundred year tenure in the navy, married and spent the next hundred and fifty years in retirement. He had lived a full life, undergoing many rejuvenation sessions, and died a grandfather at the ripe age of two hundred and sixty five.

Only to awaken as a young man in the Academy once more.

And so it continued. He had become an old man a hundred times over in the mind world, and died young just as often. He had the full recollection of his previous lives and was able to make different choices to vary the outcome each time. Because of those ever-expanding memories, his powers grew far beyond what a normal telepath could ever hope to achieve.

He could still feel the lingering presence of the alien in his mind. It seemed obvious to him now that the being had been using him to understand the human brain. Experimenting on him. Seeing what drove humanity, and how a human reacted in various situations.

It was a form of torture, and yet, what the alien had done to him was also a gift. Because not only had it increased his powers, he had relived the current moment a hundred times. He'd tried so many different courses of action and yet only one resulted in the saving of the fleet, and the entire human race itself. He knew precisely what he must do.

And yet, he had a nagging feeling at the back of his thoughts.
What if it's a trick?

The darkness abruptly descended to the bottom of the container. That had never happened before in the mind worlds. The slight presence he felt in his consciousness vanished.

The alien was dead, then. Perhaps what it had done to Barrick had utterly drained the thing, to its death.

He rose on wobbly legs, bracing himself against the glass container. Then he turned around.

The objects of the cargo bay appeared slightly fuzzy. None of the scientists were present. But the five masters-at-arms and their robots were. There was a slight halo around the men.

They were flies to him. All of them.

"Are you all right, sir?" an MA said. Their commanding officer.

The telepath stared at him.

"You have called the acting doctor to report to the cargo bay," Barrick said. "You will cancel that order."

The MA seemed momentarily puzzled that Barrick would know that, and then he said: "I'm sorry sir, I can't do that. I have my orders. You're to remain here under observation until the doctor arrives."

The telepath studied the men. Would the powers he had developed still work now that the alien was dead? Had the ability to control not just one mind, but multiple psyches, all been an elaborate dream?

There was only one way to find out...

He concentrated, visualizing the five MAs in his mind.

The men exchanged glances, then abruptly turned and fired at the five Centurions. The combat robots were reduced to a pile of melted metal.

"Barricade the door," Barrick told the men. "And guard it. Don't let anyone in. Shoot to kill, if you have to."

"Yes sir!" the lead MA said.

The five hurried to the door and took up guard positions.

"Telepath Barrick," Maxwell said. "Your actions are in violation—"

Barrick bent down and retrieved the plasma rifle from one of the fallen robots. He fired at the speaker in the overhead, cutting off the AI. He shot out the lightfield cameras in the bay, then removed his aReal glasses and crunched them underfoot. The computer would still be able to monitor him via the Implants in the MAs, but he wasn't too concerned about that: the security personnel had their backs to him, their attention devoted entirely to watching the entry hatch.

That was just as easy as it had been the last time. He smiled. He still had his abilities, then. Of course he did. Though only a few days had passed in the outside world, he had trained in the inner world of the mind for a thousand years.

He lowered himself to the floor, crossed his legs, and sat against the container. He closed his eyes and focused on visualizing the bridge. He could almost sense the presence of the officers there. He concentrated on the faces he knew. Captain Jonathan Dallas. Commander Robert Cray. He placed the two of them side by side in his mind. Through them, he had access to the other members of the bridge. Their representations appeared behind Dallas and Cray, indistinct, blurry. But it was enough.

He focused on bending them to his will.

He felt that nagging doubt once again, that this was all a trick. And he thought he was forgetting something.

What did I do different last time?

He dismissed those thoughts and concentrated his entire being on the bridge personnel.

* * *

Jonathan was studying the 3D display when Maxwell spoke.

"Captain, Barrick has taken over cargo bay seven," the AI intoned.

"What?" Jonathan said. "How?"

But Maxwell didn't answer.

Jonathan heard the bridge hatch open instead. That was strange. No one was allowed on the bridge during a lockdown.

He glanced up toward the entrance and froze.

Famina had stepped inside. Her skin was porcelain, exactly as he remembered. Her lips drawn back in a permanent frozen rictus.

The bridge abruptly faded away. Jonathan was back on the summit. In the freezing snow.

Famina continued to approach.

"What do you want?" Jonathan said.

"I have come to liberate you," Famina said.

"I always knew you would come for me," Jonathan told her. He could hear the sounds of intensive care in the background. The incessant beep of the heart rate monitors. The subtle chatter of patients soon to die.

"Yes." Famina stopped beside him. She extended a hand and turned her head to regard the gaping abyss beside her. "Come with me. Be free, Jonathan."

Though he was wrapped in a winter jacket with several layers underneath, Jonathan felt so cold. So weary. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes. The rest of his hands and feet burned, throbbing badly.

He reached toward her offered palm.

But then he hesitated.

"Do you want to be free?" Famina said. "All burdens gone?"

"But I have a duty to my crew," Jonathan said between chattering teeth.

"Your crew is lost," Famina said. "You cannot save them. Take my hand, Jonathan. Come with me. Be warm again forevermore." She pressed her open palm toward him. "Take my hand, Jonathan. And I will forgive you."

He took it.

Famina stepped into the abyss.

Her weight pulled him down and he plunged into the depths after her.

* * *

"Captain," Robert said. "Captain!"

Jonathan didn't respond. He merely stared off into space.

"I'm assuming command," Robert said. "Maxwell, note in the ship's log that Captain Jonathan Dallas became unresponsive at thirteen hundred forty two hours."

"Noted," Maxwell said.

"Sir," Ensign Lewis said. "Something strange. The other ships in the task unit are gone."

"What?" Robert said. "Where did they go?"

"I don't know," Lewis said. "I think our sensors... wait. Several alien capital ships just emerged from 2-Vega."

"What?" Robert glanced at the tactical display. The
Callaway
was now right beside the Slipstream 2-Vega. And ten enemy dots had appeared.

"How the hell did we get here?" Robert said.

"I can't explain it," Lewis said.

"What happened to the nukes we mined the entrance with?"

"Gone, sir."

The bridge shuddered.

"Looks like the enemy fighters were transported with us," Miko said. "They're still making strafing runs. And we don't have Black Squadron to defend us anymore."

"Target the closest ship with our Vipers and mag-rails," Robert said. "I want to destroy at least one of them before we go down."

"Odd," Miko said. "Our targeting systems are reporting the ship as a friendly."