Dark Space: Origin (53 page)

Three hours later . . .

Destra Heston stood outside Alara’s room in the med bay. She watched through the transpiranium viewing window with Hoff, Atta, and Atton as Ethan walked in. Alara’s parents were already there, standing beside her bed and fussing over her. She looked up and smiled when she saw Ethan, and he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before pulling up a chair and sitting down beside her. He grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips for another kiss.

Destra felt a brief echo of something—jealousy perhaps—but it quickly passed, replaced by a bittersweet feeling of joy. She was happy for Ethan—happy that Alara was back and finally safe, happy that her slave chip was about to be removed so there would be no more relapses . . . and she was also happy for herself. She was happy that she didn’t have to feel guilty anymore, because Ethan and Atton were both fine.

Destra turned and smiled up at Hoff. He met her gaze and smiled wanly back. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Complete,” she said and stood up on tip toes to kiss him on the lips. “Happy.”

“Are you sure?”

Destra hesitated. “No more secrets?”

“None.”

“No more clones?”

He shook his head. “Never again.”

“Then yes, I’m sure,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. We’re going to grow old together, and
die
together—” Her head turned and found Ethan’s and Alara’s tightly clasped hands. “—just like them.”

Atton turned to his mother with a smile. “I guess now I have two families.”

“But only one mother, right?” Destra asked.

Atton laughed. “Alara is young enough to be my sister, Mom.”

“And I’m old enough to be your grandfather,” Hoff added.

“No,
you’re
old enough to be
anyone’s
grandfather.”

“What is everybody looking at?” Atta asked, bouncing on her toes to see through the windows. “I don’t see anything!”

Atton scooped her up and placed her on his shoulders so she could see.

Destra smiled. “I think you already have a sister, Atton.”

“Wow . . .” Atta marveled as her head scraped the ceiling. “I’m tall!”

“Tall as a Gor,” Atton replied, and then he turned to look at Hoff. “Speaking of which, how are negotiations going?”

The admiral shrugged. “We’re still sorting out who’s responsible for what. Now there can be no doubt about their loyalties, but we have to convince them of ours. There have been a lot of casualties on both sides, and at this point the only thing anyone can do is try to prevent more. The fact that the Gors are even willing to talk with us after Ritan means that they understand that, too.”

Atton nodded. “You’re lucky that they’re so understanding.”

“
Humanity
is lucky.”

“You were
so
sure that they were against us,” Atton said, not willing to let it go just yet. “Sometimes the simplest answers are the best ones, hoi Hoff? They’re simple because they’re true.”

“Sometimes,” Hoff conceded.

“Yes . . .” Destra appeared to think about that for a moment, and then she turned to her husband with wide, curious eyes. “Speaking of answers, what was it that you found inside the
Tauron
which changed your mind about immortality?”

Hoff hesitated. “That’s more than I think any of us are ready to hear right now.”

Destra shook her head. “No more secrets, remember?”

Hoff’s gray eyes found Atta, and he said, “I’ll tell you all later, in a more appropriate moment. Suffice it to say, the Sythians are not the
aliens
we thought they were, and immortality is not the innocent technological breakthrough
I
thought it was.”

“What do you mean by that?” Atton asked.

“If the Sythians aren’t the aliens we thought, then what are they?” Destra added.

Hoff took a deep breath before he replied. “They’re just like us, and we’re all the same—all fighting for exactly the same reason.”

Atton shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Destra said. “What reason?”

Hoff’s gaze didn’t stray from Atta. She noticed his scrutiny and turned to him with a broad smile. “Look at me, Daddy!” she said. “I’m even taller than you!”

Hoff smiled, and belatedly answered his wife’s question. “We’re fighting for our families, Des—we’re just fighting to survive.”

Destra frowned, but Hoff’s comm piece trilled before she could reply. Hoff touched his ear to accept the call. “Yes . . . I see. That
is
good news, Lieutenant. . . . No, I’ll go personally to welcome them. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Atton shook his head. “Welcome who?”

“We’ve found a few more survivors, Squadron Commander.”

“Squadron Commander?” Atton shook his head.

Hoff smiled and reached out to squeeze Atton’s shoulder. “Come with me. I’ll explain along the way.”

Atton set his sister down and went with Hoff. Destra watched them go, already knowing what they would talk about. She and Hoff had already spoken about it. The
Valiant
was Atton’s home. It was all he’d ever known. He was a capable commander and an excellent pilot. Cutting him loose would be a mistake, especially now when they needed fleet officers more than ever. Besides that, she wanted Atton close. She’d missed too much of his life already.

As Atton and Hoff left, she heard her husband say, “How would you like your own nova squadron?”

*  *  *

Atton’s eyes widened as he heard the Admiral offer him a real officer’s commission with the fleet. “My own squadron? What about the trial? What about my crimes?”

“You’re not the only criminal we have to deal with, Atton. There’s your father, Alara’s father, Brondi’s men who surrendered in exchange for leniency, and even me . . . we’re all waiting in line for the airlock or Etaris, and right now humanity can’t afford to lose any more people. I have a plan to deal with that, but for now just know that there won’t be a trial for any of us. The only man who we’re going to make answer for his crimes is Alec Brondi.”

Atton frowned. “Okay, so why make me a ranking officer?”

“We need you. We need pilots and crew, and you’re too valuable to waste, Atton.”

They reached a pair of lift tubes and Hoff punched the down arrow. A moment later the right-hand lift opened and they stepped inside.

“Where are we going?” Atton asked.

“To the ventral hangar. We found some more survivors.”

“That’s good news.”

Hoff nodded. The lift arrived a few moments later and they walked out into a broad corridor which ran past a pair of rail car tunnels. At the end of that lay a set of wide, double doors.

They reached those doors and Hoff keyed them open. Atton blinked, his eyes trying to adjust to the size of the enormous hangar bay beyond. It was one of the venture-class hangars. Right now one of Brondi’s baron-class cruisers sat there, looking like a venture-class which had been squeezed middle. Landed beside that cruiser were half a dozen assault transports, one of which was just setting down now.

“Come on,” Hoff said, angling for that transport.

The hangar was strangely silent and devoid of the usual bustle of activity, but that was because most of the carrier’s fighters and transports were still out scanning the debris for survivors.

They reached the back of the transport which had just come in, and waited there for the loading ramp to drop. A moment later, it cracked open with a hiss, and Atton watched it slowly drop to the deck. Waiting behind that ramp was Captain Caldin, a corpsman, and a pair of medics. Caldin came down the ramp by herself. The other three followed, pushing and pulling a pair of hover gurneys. When Atton saw who was on those gurneys, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Caldin stopped before the admiral and gave a brisk salute. “Sir.”

“You found the
Tauron’s
bridge,” Hoff said, eyeing the occupants of the hover gurneys.

“Yes, sir. It was floating through the rubble. Everyone aboard was either cut to ribbons or turned to jelly in the crash.”

“And them?” Hoff jerked his chin to the two hulking Gors coming down the ramp, their muscular limbs hanging off the gurneys on all sides, their slitted yellow eyes shut.

“We found them stuffed inside an escape pod, still stuck inside its launch tube. The crew must have put them in there just before the crash.”

Hoff shook his head, marveling at that. “But why? Why save the Gors when they could have saved a pair of humans instead?”

“The pod wouldn’t have saved humans unless it had managed to launch before the collision, but Gors have much stronger bodies than us.”

Hoff nodded and smiled, eyeing first Tova and then Roan as they reached the bottom of the loading ramp. “This will help our negotiations with the Gors like nothing else—if they live, that is. Good work, Captain. Are they asleep?”

“Induced. Their bodies heal quite quickly when they sleep, or so they tell me. The medics will do whatever else they can.”

Hoff nodded and Caldin turned to Atton. “Who’s this?”

“Squadron Commander, Atton Ortane.”

Caldin accepted that with a frown. “Ortane?”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t look like the imposter’s son,” she said.

“It’s a long story, ma’am,” Atton replied.

Caldin frowned. “I see,” was all she said to that. She looked away, back to the pair of medics as they moved Tova and Roan to one side of the loading ramp. “Get the others down here, and then we’ll take them all to the med bay together,” she called out to the medics.

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

The corpsman came to stand beside Captain Caldin and saluted the admiral.

“Who are the others?” Atton thought to ask.

“Two pilots—one Brondi’s, one ours. They’re wearing the same fleet uniforms, so it’s tough to tell the difference between them except when they start screaming at each other.”

Atton smirked at that, but when he saw the next hover gurney reach the top of the ramp, he really couldn’t believe his eyes. Another familiar face. She began cursing at the medics and railing against the Imperium.

“This one has been out there a while,” Caldin said, looking up at the female pilot as her gurney came down the ramp. “She put herself in a hypoxic sleep to save oxygen. We found her beacon still transmitting weak distress signals. She was one of ours—piloted the transport which snuck aboard the
Valiant
, but . . . Brondi must have chipped her so he could use her to fight for him.”