Chapter Twenty-three

Once they had safely left the other Alliance corvette behind and gotten out of range of Sulas’ ground-based weapons, Zeric saw to the captured Alliance crew. With the rescued prisoners, they now had equal numbers, but the corvette had not been designed to comfortably accommodate this many people. In truth, it had not been designed to comfortably accommodate its own crew.

Before making the jump to hyperspace, Zeric decided their best choice was to leave the Alliance crew behind. Putting some in emergency pressure suits in the cargo pod and some in escape pods, they sent the Alliance crewmembers on a course back toward Sulas. He felt reasonably confident they would be found soon, as the Alliance would undoubtedly still be tracking them.

He spent most of the next day helping Solyss get the ship and passengers organized, doing whatever he could do to keep busy. The longer he was busy, the longer he could postpone confronting Jairyd. He had gotten a glimpse of the man, and it had only served to heighten his guilt.

Jairyd Kil’dare definitely looked the worse for wear after his time in Alliance custody. While it appeared that his time isolated aboard the prison station had let him heal, his face was still a testament to the treatment he had received. Since he was the only rebel they had captured at first, the Alliance had undoubtedly taken out all of their frustration on the man.

Finally, at the end of their first day in hyperspace, Zeric could find no more excuses and went to find Jairyd. He found him, along with Fracsid and several other ex-prisoners, in the crew mess. Everyone was in the middle of eating, and Zeric almost turned and left. They all appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the opportunity for a freshly cooked meal.

Walking over to the table, Zeric looked down at Jairyd, trying to express his regret in his face. “Jairyd, it’s good to see you alive.”

“It’s good to be seen. And to be known to be alive,” Jairyd said, setting his fork down. “Fracsid here has filled me in on some of what I missed while imprisoned. I can’t say I mind being a martyr. I just wish it hadn’t hurt so much.”

Zeric smiled uncomfortably. “Had we known you were alive, we would have tried to find you.”

Even as he said it, he knew the words sounded hollow. They had barely given Jairyd a second thought after the escape from Sulas. He had regretted losing the man, but he had easily convinced himself that the man was dead.

“I’m sure. You were probably too busy planning a rebellion against the Alliance,” Jairyd said flatly.

“Um, something like that,” Zeric replied.

“Tell me. When we planned the operation, you and Maarkean didn’t seem that interested in rebellion. As I recall, you were just trying to bust your friends out of prison. So how is it that you ended up leading an uprising on Enro?” Jairyd asked, his tone not quite casual.

“Timing?” Zeric answered with a half smile. “We were there for the Sector Congress meeting when the Alliance disbanded all of the governments. We just helped the people of Enro defend themselves.”

“And now you and Maarkean lead the rebel army?” Jairyd asked skeptically.

Zeric shook his head. “No, General Numba of Cardine heads up the army. Maarkean is in charge of the navy. I just head a battalion of marines.”

“I see,” Jairyd said. “So what is next for me?”

“That’s up to you,” Zeric said. “We’re headed back to base. You’re free to sign up and join us or go where you like. You’re a free man now.”

“Oh, I plan to join the fight. Those bastards need to pay for what they did to me.”

Crawling underneath the SSF-19, Saracasi tried to keep the sands of Kol from filling her coveralls. She wasn’t very successful and once again regretted that the inside shipyard wasn’t bigger. With the Defiant Glory still being repaired after the battle at Roc 5, and the other captured capital ships taking up the rest of the shipyard’s floor space and the landing field outside, many of the smaller fighters had been moved to a newly cleared area behind the headquarters buildings. Cleared, apparently, only of the brush and the surface layer of sand.

Brushing the sand off her hands, Saracasi reached up and opened the fighter’s lower access panel. The sand was a distraction, but, then again, the only reason she was out here fixing fighters was to distract herself from their captured frigate, the FX-21. That ship had become something of an obsession for her.

The potential behind the design was unbelievable. If she could figure out how to get past the flaws, the ship would be revolutionary. Its shield would be more powerful than a ship twice its size, and the hyperdrive would be able to be run at speeds approaching that of packet ships. It was just a matter of getting past the, admittedly fatal, flaws.

La’ari had given up, declaring that there was a reason the ship had been abandoned twenty years ago and no one had come back to the design. There was just too much of a jump from the power output of a top-end fusion reactor to that of an anti-matter reactor. The frigate’s systems could not handle the power without overloading. That was why anti-matter reactors were only used for things that required an ungodly amount of power, like large cities or the most powerful warships.

Chavatwor hadn’t given up, but she suspected her friend had his doubts. There was no puzzle the professorial Kowwok didn’t like, but he was responsible for getting all of the ships at his shipyard working, which included many non-military vessels that paid most of his bills. As much as she suspected his engineering mind wanted to fully tackle this question, he was also a businessman.

So Saracasi had spent most of her time working on the problem. Technically, as the chief engineer for the navy, she was also responsible for every ship in the yard. But most things were relatively routine matters, and between their military volunteers and the quality of Chavatwor’s workers, she did not have to spend that much of her time overseeing things. She had therefore spent all of the rest of her time working on the frigate.

That was, until Asirzi put her foot down the night before. It had been a long time since Saracasi had been in any kind of romantic relationship, and she had forgotten that she couldn’t just think about herself. She was happy with Asirzi. She enjoyed their time together immensely. She just suffered from the same problem as Chavatwor—engineering problems could completely consume her—and she didn’t have his maturity in dealing with it.

When she had met the Kowwok, she thought him an absent-minded professor. He was kindly and easily distracted. When they had discussed ships while in and escaping from Olan, he had acted like he was in another world. But then, he hadn’t had any other responsibilities. Now, he had a whole shipyard that depended on him. When he worked on engineering questions, he got lost, but he never let his other duties slack.

Saracasi had let her relationship with Asirzi slide a little. To be truthful, she had also probably been too lax with her responsibilities as the chief engineer. Asirzi had pointed this out to her, in a hurt tone that managed to penetrate her working mind.

After that, Saracasi had decided to put the frigate aside. She had promised Asirzi her full attention this evening, and had devoted her working time today to anything but the frigate. As part of that, she had taken some of the repair work on the fleet’s star fighters, which was how she ended up on her back in the sand.

Fully engrossed now with a different engineering task—that of repairing the fighter—Saracasi did not hear the footsteps approaching. So when the voice called out, she banged her head on the fighter’s hull, startled.

“Repairs again? I need this fighter operational. You told me yesterday that it would be ready to go today!” the voice said, agitated.

Once again sliding through the sand, Saracasi pulled herself out from under the fighter. A man towered over her, his features lost in the bright sun behind him. She held up her hand to block the sun and sighed as she recognized the Terran.

Jerik Needa, former bounty hunter turned rebel pilot, stood above her. He had an annoyed expression on his face which clearly showed his contempt for the regular flight mechanics. Since these flight mechanics were under her command, Saracasi frowned back up at him in response.

“Oh, uh, Major Ocaitchi, sorry, ma’am, I didn’t know it was you down there.”

“Of course not, Lieutenant, why should you?” she said, struggling to keep her voice professional. She did not agree with her brother and Davidus’ decision to make the bounty hunter an officer, even if he was a good pilot.

As she pulled herself up, she saw a collection of pilots behind him. She recognized Arzesaeth Ernebee, who had been on her crew that had stolen the frigate, and Sienn’lyn Ifu, another Liw’kel Ni’jar whom Gu’od had recruited. The rest of the pilots she had seen but didn’t know by name.

Jerik remained quiet, clearly not sure how to respond. Authority was something he responded well to, though he demanded strict obedience out of his pilots. As such, when he was around superior officers and subordinates, he always seemed to be torn. Saracasi kind of enjoyed his predicament, after how she assumed he had intended to treat her mechanic.

“I won’t let you or any other pilot go up in one of these fighters unless I’m sure it’s safe,” Saracasi said, trying to sound like an officer. She felt sand clinging to her hair, ruining the effect, and was glad she only had hair on her head. This would be hell for a Notha or Kowwok.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t want my pilots to, either,” Jerik said, sounding agreeable.

“Good. I’ll let you know when they’re cleared for flight. Dismissed,” Saracasi said, holding Jerik’s look with an intent one of her own.

Jerik saluted her, and then turned back to the group of pilots. The man’s arrogant attitude annoyed her. That annoyance evaporated as she watched him depart. Jerik walked with a distinct limp—a limp that she had caused by cutting into him with a plasma cutter.

She suddenly regretted how she had just treated him. Doctor Istru had repaired Jerik’s leg, but it still caused him some trouble, especially over the uneven sandy terrain. She knew the injury had been necessary, and like many worse things she had done, she did not regret doing it. He had been trying to make off with her brother to collect a bounty.

Yet, it was another example of the terrible things this war was doing to people. She was reminded of this cost every night with Asirzi. The woman had still not gotten her breast replaced and had a mechanical arm. She and Jerik were just a few of many casualties in this war.

After finishing up her work on the fighter, Saracasi started back toward the main living quarters. The Kol sun had started to edge toward the horizon. It wasn’t quite midday galactic time, but Chavatwor operated his shipyard on local time and she had started to adapt. It would be good to get a shower and then spend the evening with Asirzi, not thinking about engineering problems.

As she walked, the sky suddenly grew dark very quickly. She glanced up and was startled to see a large ship flying slowly overhead. Her mouth dropped as she recognized the shape of an Alliance naval ship.

Panic threatened to set in as she ran the rest of the way to the shipyard. Fighting against her poor fitness, she struggled to take deep calming breaths. Panic wouldn’t do anyone any good.

When she reached the headquarters building, the small courtyard had filled with mechanics and soldiers staring up at the ship as it maneuvered toward the landing field beyond the shipyard. Saracasi fought the urge to join them, as well as the urge to turn and run the other direction. But with her brother and Davidus still gone, she was the senior naval officer present. And with Zeric gone, Ymp was the senior marine. It would be up to them to keep things calm.

She threw her tool bag toward one of her mechanics and told him to get everyone inside. Then she rushed through the ground to get to the other side of the shipyard, where the corvette appeared to be landing. Work inside the shipyard continued, the workers having no view of the landing ship. She said nothing as she ran. Until she knew what the ship wanted, there was no reason to start a panic.

Corvettes were not typically troop transports. And the fact that they hadn’t started firing on the shipyard was a good sign. She held out hope that they weren’t all about to become Alliance prisoners. Or the latest war casualties.

Getting through the shipyard, Saracasi was relieved to find Ymp Ki-Li and a contingent of marines waiting on the other side. Ymp nodded to her and handed her a sidearm. Saracasi shook her head. If this was an Alliance assault, she would just get in the way. She had never been a stellar shot with a pistol.

“What’s the situation, Major?” Saracasi asked.

“The corvette hailed us a moment ago. Claims to be under the control of Colonel Dustlighter. But I find that to be suspicious,” Ymp replied, her eye stalks split, one on the corvette, and one on Saracasi. The Camari ability to do that still creeped her out some.

“Well, we’re not dead yet. Let’s hope they’re telling the truth.”

“Let’s hope, but it could just be a trap,” Ymp said. “And if that’s the case, I’m sure there are more ships in orbit ready to obliterate us from afar. My marines are ready to defend the shipyard, but if that’s what we face …“

She left the rest unsaid. Saracasi regretted that they did not have the orbital tracking system installed yet. Chavatwor had agreed to let them set up a complete sensor network and had devoted some of his workers to setting up a powerful defense shield. But it had always taken a backseat to the work on all the ships.

“I’ll go forward and meet whoever comes out,” Saracasi said. “That way, if they decide to shoot me, you’ll be ready to come save my ass.”

Ymp chuckled. “Try not to get shot, though. Dry sand is terrible for wounds.”

Leaving the Camari woman and the other marines behind, Saracasi walked forward into the space between them and the corvette. Though it wasn’t as big as the Defiant Glory, or even the other three captured Alliance warships, the corvette towered above her several stories. The sight of it and the guns along its hull was pretty intimidating.

She stopped about a dozen meters in front of an airlock on the lowest deck. Several minutes went by and nothing happened. Eventually, the airlock opened and figures emerged from within the corvette.

Saracasi let out her breath in relief when she recognized Zeric leading the group. Behind him, Solyss and Fracsid emerged. Not only was the corvette not an enemy, but Zeric’s mission to rescue Fracsid had been successful. As people continued to stream out of the corvette, she realized that their rescue must have been very successful.

“Colonel, welcome back,” Saracasi said, deciding she should salute Zeric. He frowned at the gesture but returned it.

“Thanks, Casi,” he replied, emphasizing his use of her nickname. “We had to take a detour to Sulas, but we found Frac and his crew safely inside a brand new Alliance orbital prison. Along with several other residents. We’ll just say that history decided to repeat itself, and Sulas is once again without a large collection of innocent prisoners.”

Saracasi nodded, impressed. The number of prisoners was miniscule compared to those that had been imprisoned at Olan—she guessed that there were less than forty total—but it was far more than the dozen or so crewmen they had thought were captured by the Alliance.

Clapping a hand on Solyss’ shoulder, Zeric nodded his head to the man. “Solyss here managed to make use of our brand new Alliance warship to fight off another one and get us safely off the planet. He’s a good captain.”

Solyss looked slightly embarrassed, and Saracasi smiled at him. Inside, she felt a slight twinge of jealousy. The encounter sounded like it had been an exciting affair. Part of her regretted that she hadn’t been able to be there. Participating in a battle of capital ships would have been quite intriguing.

“He’s also good in a fight,” Zeric continued. “When we stormed the bridge, the old captain almost got an emergency broadcast off. My stun blast didn’t work, but Solyss stepped up and calmly shot the man. Though I suppose that’s a bad precedent to set for the changing of command.”

All of them chuckled. For a moment, Saracasi felt only a bit of envy that Solyss had distinguished himself in battle. Then she harshly reminded herself that he had had to kill a man in cold blood. She quickly set aside all her thoughts on the subject and changed the topic of conversation. She didn’t want to dwell on a problem she couldn’t solve.