The Cold Between (38 page)

“Do not be so quick to declare victory,” Trey told him quietly. “We are still on the wrong side of the wormhole.”

The cabin darkened, and the artificial lights came up. They had cleared the planet's atmosphere. Trey looked at Elena; she knelt, tense, her elbows on the edge of the couch, the spent analgesic pad in one hand.
Helpless,
he thought. He knew how she felt.

“
Sartre,
how far are we from
Lusi
?”

Three minutes,
the ship told him.

“I'll lay the charges,” she said faintly.

“There is another problem,
m'laya,
” he said. “Our undercarriage is cracked.” He described to her what he had seen.

That seemed to get through to her. “That's our engine mount,” she said, and her voice sounded more focused. “I may be able to patch it, but a crack like that . . . it won't be a perfect fix. It should hold us through the wormhole. But getting away on the other side could be more interesting.” She had not moved.

Trey reached out and took the analgesic pad from between her fingers. “I will look after him,” he said firmly.

She turned and met his eyes. She had not looked frightened before, he realized, not even when Stoya was holding a weapon to her head. Trey wanted to wrap his arms around her and promise her that Foster would survive, that they would make it home safely, that everything would be as it was. He didn't, though. She would know it for a lie before he said a single word.

“Do you wish for me to attempt the repair?” he asked.

Something flickered across her face, and he thought it was gratitude. She smiled at him, and ever so slightly her body relaxed. “This is my job,” she told him. “I'll take care of it.” With one more glance at Foster, she pushed herself to her feet, and headed to the back of the cabin.

Galileo

J
essica stood in the gym, staring up at the infantry brigade leader, and wished for Alex Carter. If Alex were here, Jessica was certain they would have been done talking already. Off-duty Alex had a reputation for being shy, or even stupid, but the truth was he was always listening. Jessica and Ted could have outlined their argument concisely, and only once. Alex would have considered—silently—and decided whether or not to believe them.

But Alex was still on Volhynia, and Lee Henare, despite his distinctive eyebrows and piercing stare, was a good deal less bright. He was a nice enough fellow, but his failures were almost always of imagination, and now was no different. Standing over her in the gym, his uniform already damp with sweat from his battle drills, he was frowning down at her like a disapproving schoolmaster.

“Why isn't Commander Broadmoor telling me all this?” he asked.

“She's meeting with the captain,” Ted told him. It was the truth, or close enough, assuming Emily had carried out her original plan.

Ted had pointed out to Jessica repeatedly that no ship that had gone into the wormhole had ever come back out again, but she could not give up hope. If the
Phoenix
's flight recorder had survived, then the
Lusitania
could have as well. She did not think about whether or not the captain would ever come back; she just hung on to the possibility that he was still alive.

And maybe Lanie was with him.

Captain Solomonoff had played Captain Foster's mayday for her, but had said they had not seen a civilian ship. “Would he have fabricated that, perhaps to elicit a faster response?”

“No,” Jessica said. “He wouldn't lie to put another ship in danger like that.”

Defending the captain's honesty made her feel uncomfortable about withholding the names of the likely passengers on that missing ship. She did not know where Zajec stood with his former tribe, and since—for now, at least—they could do nothing about his fate, she kept her suspicions to herself.

All that was clear to Jessica was that
Penumbra
had not attacked the captain, and that called into serious doubt Will Valentis's story of Foster's death—not to mention the honesty of every single member of
Demeter
's crew. “We can't attack them if they were trying to help,” she had argued to Henare. “Central didn't know any of this when they gave us the order.”

But Henare wasn't biting. Half of his people were warming up with calisthenics, the others assembling assault weapons and riot gear in preparation for boarding the other ship. “Once Commander Broadmoor has spoken with Captain Valentis,” he said, “we'll get the stand-down order from him. But I'm not setting my people up to go in cold.”

And she lost her temper. “
Your people
? Lee Henare, you are twenty-six years old, and before now you've been in command exactly once, and that was only because Alex sprained his foot dancing with Becky on her birthday.”

“Carter,” he said through clenched teeth, “is still on that damned colony. So maybe, Lockwood, you could cut me a goddamned break.”

Ted pushed himself between them. “That's enough.” He stood with his back to Jessica, blocking her view. “How about this, Lee. You guys keep up your preparations, but you think about it. Maybe discuss it with some of the others—you've got some people who've seen this sort of combat, and they may be able to think of some things we haven't. We're going to need ideas if Foster really went through that wormhole.”

And that, it seemed, was the key. Henare's face lit up with something like hope. “Do you think we can get him back?”

Jessica shoved her way back around Ted. “As long as this clusterfuck doesn't explode,” she told him, “then we have a chance. What do you say?”

He thought, and she fought the urge to shake him. “I'll think about it,” he said.

Before she could speak, Ted stepped on her foot. “That's all we can ask, Lee.”

“Ten-hut!”

This outburst was so rare on
Galileo
that all two-dozen infantrymen in the gym failed utterly to come to attention, instead stopping their exercises to exchange confused glances. Jessica looked over at the source of the order, and her heart sank. Standing in the gym doorway, wearing a full uniform complete
with commander's stripes, was an officer from
Demeter.
Yuri Nikov, she recalled: tall even among those taller than average, and as wide as two men. The last time she had seen him, he had only been a lieutenant.

His eyes were blazing with rage at being ignored. “I said attention, people!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the space.

Henare and his platoons caught on quickly, and arranged themselves in two neat rows. Jessica and Ted stood at an angle to them, at attention. She wished fervently she had left before giving Lee a piece of her mind.

“On Captain Valentis's orders,” Nikov said, “you men are now under my command.” He paced in front of them, perhaps waiting for an objection; but it was Ted who spoke.

“Permission to ask a question, sir,” he said smartly.

Nikov strode over to Ted. He looked annoyed, but Jessica could see in his face he appreciated Ted's deference. “Granted, soldier.”

“Is Commander Broadmoor injured, sir?”

Whether or not Nikov was taken in by Ted's disingenuous phrasing, he answered the question easily enough. “Commander Broadmoor has been temporarily relieved of her duties,” he said. He turned back to the infantry. “Now, I want guerrilla drills, thirty-second intervals, until you carcasses hit all your points one hundred percent. We are twenty minutes away from this battle; I will not lose because one of you children decided to slack off. Now go!”

Hastily the platoons split into teams, and Lee began timing them in the drills. Jessica kept still, trying not to shake. Emily
had been relieved of duty, which meant she had talked to Valentis, and he had moved her out of the way. “We were right,” she whispered to Ted.

“Did you think we weren't?” he asked.

“No. But I was hoping. How do we get out of here?”

“Be polite, be military, and for pity's sake, keep saying ‘sir.'” Ted caught Nikov's eye. “Excuse me, Commander, sir.”

Nikov marched back over to them. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Permission to return to my engineering duties, sir,” he said.

“Granted.” Nikov turned to Jessica, his eyes narrowing. “Where are you supposed to be, Lieutenant?”

Jessica had no idea. “Comms, sir,” she said promptly.

He nodded. “Very well, Lieutenant, you'd best be on your way, too. Dismissed.”

Out in the hallway, Jessica turned to Ted. “Can you stall them in engineering?” she asked. “Keep the weapons from spinning up? Slow them down a little?”

“I can try. What are you going to do?”

She looked up at him, into his earnest face, and ached to tell him. “Never mind what I'm going to do,” she said. “Just slow them down, understand?”

“Jess—”

On impulse, she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Shut up and fight, Shimada,” she told him, and turned and fled before she could see him react.

It took her longer than she'd hoped to reassemble the off-grid in Captain Foster's quarters, and for a moment she wished she had not let Ted go. But in the end she managed to piece it together
and send the ping, and she sat on Greg Foster's bed, staring at the photograph of his wife on the dresser. Time was moving at a glacial pace; after less than thirty seconds she grew tired of the otherworldly smile on the woman's face, and deactivated the photograph. She wondered if his wife had been told he was dead, and how she felt about it. She wondered if Captain Solomonoff would answer in time.

After more minutes than she dared count, the response came. “
Galileo,
this is
Penumbra.
”

Jessica exhaled. “This is Lieutenant Lockwood again, Captain Solomonoff,” she acknowledged. “I have to tell you something I didn't before. I need to warn you.”

The woman's tone changed instantly, becoming sharp and wary. “Warn us of what?”

“Captain Valentis has been ordered to secure your surrender and take your ship,” Jessica said. “We'll be there in about sixteen minutes.”

There was a long pause, and only the steady pulse of the off-grid told Jessica the connection was still intact. “I see,” Captain Solomonoff said at last, and Jessica thought she had pieced it all together.

“The Admiralty doesn't have all the facts,” Jessica told her, “and Captain Valentis won't comm back to the Admiralty for clarification. He's preparing to attack you. You need to get your ship out of there.”

Another silence. “I am afraid that is not possible.”

Good God, are all captains stubborn idiots?
“Respectfully, Captain, we outgun you substantially. You may be bigger than we are, but we'll be able to shut you down with very little effort.”

“I am aware of your firepower, Lieutenant.” But it was not bravado Jessica heard in her voice: it was sadness.

“Captain, you've got civilians there, haven't you? Just leave. Pick a direction. You don't even have to get lost; we'll clear this up with Central in a day or two, and then—”

“You misunderstand, Lieutenant. We cannot leave. Our FTL field generator has been damaged. We are a week away from travel, at a minimum.”

Jessica's throat closed. “Was it the S-O ship that hit you? Did you get this damage trying to save our captain?”

“Had we not been recovering from the earlier attack, it would not have been insurmountable.” Another pause. “I will not be boarded voluntarily, Lieutenant,” she said quietly. “Your Captain Valentis will need to take us by force.”

Frantically, Jessica said, “But it wouldn't be permanent. You'd just need to surrender, and then we could fix all this, and then—”

“And how will you fix it, Lieutenant? It is not our way, to be prisoners. Nor will I admit to crimes I did not commit.”

She sounded so sane, so steady, so confident. Jessica could not believe she had given credence to MacBride's story. No one who heard Captain Solomonoff could think her insane.

A glimmer of hope ignited within her.

“Captain,” Jessica said, “would you be willing to tell us that? Send a message to the effect that you didn't hurt anyone?”

“Respectfully, Lieutenant,” the woman said dryly, “I have been trying to do that for four weeks.”

“But you didn't have me before.”

“You can get me through to Captain Valentis?”

Fuck Valentis,
Jessica thought. “I can do better. Do you think you can come up with something off-the-cuff? We don't have a lot of time.”

“I have been making speeches for many decades,” the captain said. “Tell me when I may begin.”

This should have been a difficult choice, Jessica thought. Snooping around the captain's mail was one thing. Even spreading rumors among the infantry was at worst in poor taste. This was flat-out insubordination and mutiny, and if she turned out to be wrong, it would mean her career, and anything resembling a normal life.

I can't just sit back and do nothing.
“
Galileo,
can you route this call to intraship comms?”

The ship took a moment to set up the connection. “Yes.”

“Captain Solomonoff, are you ready?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Captain Solomonoff's strong, steady voice filled the air around Jessica. Her message would be heard over every transmitter on the entire ship.

“Starship
Galileo,
this is Captain Valeria Solomonoff of the PSI starship
Penumbra.
We are aware of your mission, your destination, and your intent. We are prepared to defend ourselves.” Her voice was cold and arrogant, and Jessica suspected she would play a formidable game of poker. “I wish to be clear, however, that the reasons your command has given for this attack are erroneous. We did not murder your Captain Foster—he was shot down by an unidentified vessel. We did not attack the starship
Demeter;
we defended ourselves against Captain MacBride, who told me directly his mission was to remove us forci
bly from the hot zone. This ship has never, under my command or any other, carried out an unprovoked attack against anyone, nor will we commence doing so, despite your current actions.”

She was silent a moment. “We will not run. Neither will we allow ourselves to be boarded. We claim the sovereign right of all people to choose our own existence, to take our own path. Our goals have never been contrary to yours. If this becomes war,
Galileo,
the choice will have been yours.”

She disconnected. Jessica stared at the transparent off-grid, wondering what she ought to do next.

Captain Valentis promptly let her know.

“Attention all hands.” His voice came over the comms, louder and larger than life. “Lieutenant Jessica Lockwood has committed an act of treason. She is to be located and brought to me immediately.”

Shit.
How had he traced her? “
Galileo,
” she said, hastily dismantling the off-grid, “report my recent locations as the gym, engineering, and the infirmary. Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone know I was in the captain's quarters.” She shoved the pieces of the off-grid back into their hiding places, and restarted the photograph of Captain Foster's wife. “Keep monitoring comms. I want to know about anything that comes in from the Admiralty, official or unofficial.” For a few frantic seconds she blanked on a hiding place, then remembered the lower maintenance hallways. They would be empty now, with everyone preparing for battle, and if she kept moving, she could stay ahead of Valentis . . . at least until they were face-to-face with
Penumbra
and she found out how much Ted could do.