Bishop and I rush into the Control Room. We ran here as fast as we could, neither of us discussing what just happened. He had no right to attack Victor like that. I was hit, yes, but getting hit is part of training. The way Bishop reacted, the way I reacted when Bawden tried to stop him…I’m disturbed to my core.
The Control Room is abuzz. Gaston is up on the main platform. The smaller pedestals are all filled—he’s put people to work analyzing the information we’re getting from the telescope. Bariso and Schuster are there, as is Henry Bemba, three halves delegating tasks to the collection of circles and even a few Springers.
Schuster is wearing black coveralls, like the rest of us. No dress. We’re well past the time for wearing anything but clothes suitable for war.
Above the Well, I see two Xolotl-shaped ships. One is the yellow-tinged Goblin, with its yellow curved-thorn symbol on the circular front. The other is the green-tinged Dragon. Tiny green dots are heading away from the Dragon and moving toward the Goblin.
Bishop and I join Gaston on the platform.
He glances at us, then back at the display above his pedestal.
“Damn, Bishop,” he says. “What happened to your head?”
The spot where Bawden hit him is already swelling, a big red bump with a circle in the middle the exact diameter of a spear shaft.
“Never mind that,” I say. “What’s going on? Where’s Spin?”
“She’s sick,” Gaston says. “She could barely stand. Must be from the baby. She can’t do anything about what’s happening between these ships, so I told her to go lie down.”
Spingate is always in the Control Room. It feels odd here without her. But considering the way she talked to me on top of the Observatory, maybe it’s for the best that I don’t see her now.
“The Goblin was moving away from Omeyocan,” Gaston says. “It wasn’t leaving, just making sure it was out of Goff Spear range. That brought it closer to the Dragon. Dragon recently changed course and headed straight for the Goblin—now the Dragon appears to be attacking it with smaller ships.”
The swarm of green dots reminds me of blurds buzzing over the river’s surface.
I pull my braid around over my right shoulder, stroke it nervously.
“I don’t see the Xolotl,” I say. “Where is it?”
“Matilda apparently doesn’t want any part of this,” Gaston says. “The Xolotl is beyond the horizon; we can’t even see it right now.”
Joandra Rigby enters the Control Room. She’s not as fast as Bishop and I, especially when lugging around a baby. She sits on the platform’s edge, tries to regain her breath.
On the display, I see something moving on the Goblin. It’s the landing bay doors—which must be huge but look tiny in relation to the massive ship—opening like the jaws of a monster.
“Defensive action,” Gaston says. “Goblin launching fighters of her own.”
A swarm of yellow dots slides out of the landing bay and heads to meet the oncoming green cloud. The yellow dots seem slower than the wave they fly out to meet. Slower, and fewer.
Midway between the two great starships, the green and yellow swarms collide. Two half-solid masses become a single yellow-green cloud that sparks and flashes and flickers. It takes me a moment to realize the combined cloud is thinning—lights of both colors are blinking out.
A strand of green, maybe five dots in all, rips from the roiling cloud and heads straight at the yellow-tinged Goblin.
“Dragon’s fighters already control the combat zone,” Gaston says. “They’re sending a few units to strafe the Goblin.”
I glance at Bishop. He notices my look, meets my eyes, shrugs, goes back to watching the display. He knows war, yes, but not this kind—space is Gaston’s domain.
The five green dots spread out and attack the Goblin from five different angles, a predator’s claw clutching down on its prey. Lights flicker across the Goblin’s surface.
“That’s counterfire,” Gaston says. “Goblin gunners trying to shoot down the incoming Dragon fighters.”
One of the Dragon’s green specks disappears. Then another. Flashes of orange blossom on the Goblin, and this time it’s not from counterfire—the Dragon’s fighters are landing big, explosive hits. Another green dot vanishes. I think that the Goblin might survive this assault, then I glance back to the roiling cloud—it is now almost completely green.
“Dragon’s fighters are clearly better than the Goblin’s,” Gaston says. He sounds worried.
In seconds, the last few yellow dots blink out, leaving only green. The remaining Dragon fighters close on the yellow-tinged Goblin. Counterfire isn’t even half of what it was to begin with—the Dragon’s fighters are taking out the Goblin’s guns.
“Numerous breaches on the Goblin’s hull,” Ometeotl calls out. “The Dragon is launching a second wave.”
Six new green dots leave the Dragon and head straight for the Goblin. These new dots are fatter, thicker.
“I think those are boarding craft,” Gaston says. “The Dragon’s crew doesn’t want to destroy the Goblin, they want to capture it. Ometeotl, give me more detail.”
“Detail is at maximum, Captain Xander.”
He mumbles something under his breath, a curse word that would have gotten him severely beaten when we were in school.
The fat dots reach the Goblin, land on the long, tapering part that sticks out the back.
“The boarders will try to breach that hull,” Gaston says. “If they do, it will be hand-to-hand fighting against the Goblin’s crew.”
We watch for a long time. The Goblin’s counterfire flickers diminish further, then cease completely.
I imagine a desperate battle of knives and guns and energy blasts, a battle fought between two unknown species.
More killing—and we still don’t know the reason for it.
“The Goblin is changing course,” Ometeotl calls out.
The besieged ship starts moving toward the Dragon. I don’t know why I pick sides, but I hope the Goblin attacks. Maybe both ships will be destroyed.
When it gets closer to the Dragon, the Goblin slows, then stops.
It doesn’t attack.
The two mother ships sit side by side, round front ends facing toward my planet.
“Captured,” Bishop says.
Gaston nods. “Looks that way.”
Was the Goblin going to attack us, like the Basilisk did? If so, is it possible that the Dragon took out that threat as a gesture of good faith, because those aliens want to be our allies?
I wish that were true, but it seems unlikely. We don’t know what this brief battle means for us. I have a feeling we won’t have to wait long to find out.
Little Kevin wakes up, lets out a happy squeal. The sound is like a trigger that releases our pent-up stress. Not all of it, but enough that I relax a little. If a baby can…
Wait…something is wrong.
Kevin. When Spingate isn’t working, Kevin is always with her.
Spingate isn’t here.
But I am. She would have known I’d be here for this.
Bello…
Without another word, I sprint for the elevator.