SAL KONSTANZ
After speaking to Schultz, I joined Nod in the cargo bay, where it had installed the alien printer.
“How soon can you get this running?”
Three of Nod’s faces looked up at me, the little black pearls of its eyes shining in the overhead lights. “Not long. Much work, but not long.”
“Are we talking hours or days?”
The petal-fingers around one of its faces shivered. Although not perfectly analogous to laughter, this was a gesture the Druff used to convey amusement. One of its other arms reached out and delicately tapped the machine’s matt surface. An illuminated green triangle appeared where its petal made contact, and the whole contraption began to hum with power.
“Is done.”
I opened and shut my mouth a couple of times. Had Nod just made a joke? I wasn’t sure that had happened before. Its species was notorious for its cantankerous pragmatism rather than any detectable sense of playfulness.
Nod’s sunflower faces beamed up at me now in all innocence. “Will fill with junk,” it said. “First core printed in couple of hours.”
“That’s amazing, Nod.” I reached out and pressed my hand to its nearest face in a gentle high-five. “Thank you.”
“Is easy. Have worked this tech before.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” I took a deep breath. “But now, wish me luck. I have to go and talk to a real asshole.”
* * *
Captain Murphy’s irritation was obvious from the way his lips pursed when he saw my face.
“Have you changed your mind about joining us?” he asked.
I smiled and shook my head. “Sorry, son. If I wanted to commit suicide, I’d have done it already.”
His jaw tightened. I was embarrassing him in front of his crew.
“Then how can I help you?”
“You saw we went down to the surface?”
“We were monitoring you.”
“Well, we found ourselves some power cores.”
“Good for you.” Murphy’s eyes narrowed. Perhaps he was thinking of reprimanding the leader of his scavenger team for leaving a few behind. “How many?”
I let my smile twist into a wry grin. “You should have sent a Druff down with your troops, Captain.”
“I don’t understand. How many did you find?”
I spread my hands. “As many as we’ll ever need. Enough for us and the civilian vessels to operate indefinitely.”
Murphy sat back, evaluating me. He straightened the spotless white collar of his uniform.
“You only brought one shuttle up from the surface.”
“That’s correct.”
“And yet you now claim to be in possession of an inexhaustible supply of power cores?”
“Also correct.”
His cheeks flushed. “What kind of game are you playing?”
“No game, Captain.” I leant towards the camera, hoping he had a three-dimensional holographic display on his bridge, so my magnified face would be looming out of the wall at him. “Our engineer found an alien printer capable of producing useable power cores from miscellaneous junk. As long as we keep feeding it raw materials, we’re now effectively self-sufficient for fuel.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, it’s true.” I removed my baseball cap and ran a hand back through my hair. “And we’ll have enough for you, too. So the question you should be asking yourself is whether you’re going to come with us and give your crew a shot at medium-term survival, or whether you’re going to throw their lives away in a stupid, futile gesture that’ll solve nothing except maybe satisfy your own stubborn pride?”
Murphy’s mouth fell open. “What makes you think you can talk to me that way?”
“I’ve been in this situation before.” I tapped a couple of controls, forwarding the Trouble Dog’s recordings of our confrontation with Admiral Menderes at the Battle of the Gallery. “And as you’ll see from the attached, it didn’t work out too well for that guy.” Faced with the admiral’s determination to sacrifice his ship and crew in a vainglorious attack on the Marble Armada, the Dog had managed to put a single cannon round through the man’s head while he stood on the bridge of his flagship, thus sparing his crew from certain death.
Murphy’s eyes flicked sideways, reviewing the data. When the footage of the fatal shot came, he jerked in his seat. Some of the bluster drained from his face.
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you threatening me, Captain Konstanz?”
“Do you want me to?”
Murphy rubbed his jaw and glanced around his bridge as if taking the temperature of the room. For the first time in this conversation, he seemed uncertain, and the reality of his youth began to bleed through the layers of training and authority with which he’d attempted to conceal it. He’d been preparing to lead his crew into the jaws of death, but now I’d revealed a second option, and they’d probably all heard me do it. If he were to retain their trust, he’d have to tread carefully. With the majority of the Conglomeration Navy reduced to smouldering wreckage, he had no chain of command to back him up—only the residual loyalty of a ship full of frightened, punch-drunk personnel.
“Unlimited fuel?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re serious about heading for a place of safety?”
“I am.”
He puffed out his cheeks. Glanced around his bridge again. “I have a duty.”
“You don’t have a duty to anyone besides your crew. The navy’s gone, and the surviving planetary populations won’t care if you throw your life away on their behalf. They’ve got their own problems, and your death won’t make any difference to those.”
“What about the Penitence?”
“Oh, he’s just doing what he thinks he should, same as you. But if you change your mind and come with us, I’m sure he’ll tag along.”
Murphy rubbed his jaw. “Can you give me a few minutes? I need to discuss this with my officers.”
“Of course.”
I killed the connection and climbed down to the Trouble Dog’s galley, where I tried to fix myself a cup of tea using a teabag from my personal stash, but unthinkingly poured the kettle with my right hand, putting it in the blind spot created by the removal of my right eye. Scalding hot water spilled over the countertop and I cursed. It was only a minor spillage but it was one setback too many. A year ago, I’d been almost happy, despite losing Sedge. I’d been in the House for a couple of years and reconciled myself to a quiet life spent helping others—with long periods of solitude in which to sketch and read, and work through everything I’d seen during the war. But looking back now, I could see how ephemeral that tenuous contentment had been. And yet at the time, despite having both my eyes, I probably wouldn’t have described myself as happy. We never know when we’re living through the good times. It’s only when everything turns to ashes and crap we realise how fortunate we really were.
I dried the counter as much as I felt able, tossed the hot, steaming cloth into the recycler and decided to take the tea back to my cabin. But halfway there, as I walked along the circular corridor ringing the ship’s waist, a call came in from the Manticore. The Trouble Dog displayed it on the wall.
“Hello, Captain Murphy.”
“Captain Konstanz.”
“Have you reached a decision regarding my proposal?”
“We have.”
“Are you joining us?”
Murphy’s Adam’s apple bobbed against his collar as he swallowed. “We are.”
“And you’ll submit to my authority as commodore of this little fleet?”
“Yes, ma’am. At least until such time as we recontact surviving elements of the Conglomeration Navy.”
“Fair enough.”
The young man’s expression remained stoical, but I thought I saw relief in an almost imperceptible loosening of his shoulders and the way his eyes widened fractionally, just for a second. By bullying him to acquiescence, I had eased his burden.
“What’s our first move, Commodore?”
I blew steam from my tea. “We’ll have a full briefing at 1800 hours. All ship avatars and crew invited.”
I saw his eyes flick to the side, checking the time. “And until then?”
“I’m going to drink my tea and review the data Bochnak sent us.”
“Who’s Bochnak?”
“He’s a scientist. He was on board Sudak’s flagship, and he managed to send us some information he’d pulled from its records.”
“Anything useful?”
“Perhaps.”
“What should we do?”
“Are you fully armed?”
“We are.”
“Print more ammunition. Fill your cargo bay with spare rounds and scour the surface for whatever else you can find. This is going to be a long, protracted fight and we’re going to need as much ordnance as we can get our hands on.” I lowered my mug and looked him in the eye. “We’ve got dragons to slay.”