The Empty Warrior (25 page)

“First officer relinquishes the conn, Captain,” Busht answered. “
Vigilant
stands ready for action. Deceleration protocols are in effect. The chief engineer has cleared the ship for sub-light operation and the subsequent reengagement of the deep drive.” He then moved closer the captain’s chair and spoke in a near whisper meant for her ears only. “Calese does however request, in her own sublimely delicate way, that we be gentle with her baby.”

“I am sure she did. Thank you, Colvan,” Valessanna replied. Her expression of gratitude was heartfelt, not obligatory. Busht had, on his own initiative, interposed himself between the captain and Arkhus, acting as Valessanna’s liaison with engineering for the last sixteen or so hours, giving her a much-needed break from the belligerence of the sullen engineer. He nodded his head in recognition of her thanks before stepping to the maneuvering station to take a seat.

Valessanna raised her voice to address the bridge crew as a whole. “All right, people. All set?”

Murmurs of assent rippled through the compartment. “Good enough,” she said. “Commence braking.”

“Braking commenced,” echoed Busht. Valessanna felt a momentary pull of forward G-force that almost toppled her from her perch, but fortunately the dampeners kicked in before she was dumped to the floor. Obviously the repairs due them were far from complete. She pushed herself back into the seat and strapped in. For a split second she considered activating the action cocoon, but then thought better of it, noting that the rest of the crew were merely belted in at their stations.

Slowing to sub-light would take a while, almost sixty minutes as Busht was decelerating at a very leisurely rate, following Arkhus’s directive to avoid applying any undue stress to the damaged vessel. If the Vazileks were indeed behind them, they would almost certainly begin to close on
Vigilant
now. Valessanna tried not to think about that possibility, as nothing could change it. Instead she concentrated on monitoring the ship’s steadily decreasing velocity.

She fidgeted restlessly as the minutes passed. The core of her being was relentlessly urging her legs to motion, and only the knowledge that it might instill dread in the crew after what had occurred the last time she paced the bridge kept her from hopping down to the deck to begin her repetitious promenade across the width of the rear of the compartment. The force prided itself on the rationality of its members, but like anyone who spent their life sailing the void, Valessanna knew every spacer was deep down superstitious. There would be no pacing today.

At last Busht made the announcement that everyone had been waiting for. “One minute to sub-light,” he said loudly. “Look alive, everyone.”

Valessanna turned her attention to the viewscreens. Two showed nothing but darkness while the other, the one focused forward, showed a pinpoint of bright light in its center which faded into progressively darker, bluish coronas nearer its edges. That would soon change. As the ship slipped below one point zero, the screens would be brilliantly illuminated by the varying intensities of light from a billion visible stars. It happened as she watched, all three viewscreens simultaneously exploding with light. “Sensors?” she barked, having neither the time nor the inclination to admire the view.

“All clear, Captain,” a crewman responded. “No one’s out here but us.”

“Excellent. Stay alert up there. Navigation?”

“Working, Captain,” Abblehoff replied. He bent over his station for several seconds, studying his readouts, before he spoke again. “I have a position fix.” There was another short pause. “I have a vector. It is a significant correction, but it is the closest way to charted space available. I suggest we move to course forty-seven point four by two-twenty-seven point eight.”

“As you wish,” Valessanna intoned.

“Maneuvering, do you have the coordinates?” Abblehoff asked.

“Affirmative,” answered Busht. “Inputting. Request permission for burn.”

“Keep the mains off line, Colvan,” Valessanna warned. “Permission granted for maneuvering thrusters only. Commence burn at your discretion.” Igniting the main engines would have been much quicker, but it would have left a trail that would be hard for the Vazileks to miss. There was no sense in providing them a signpost showing which way
Vigilant
had gone. The thrusters could put them on the proper course just as easily, and without leaving readily discernible evidence behind.

“Commencing burn now,” Busht announced.

Valessanna’s heart pounded as the seconds ticked by. This was the most dangerous segment of the turn, that part of the arc where they were traveling very close to their old course. If one of the Vazilek ships was lucky enough to go sub-light at the proper spot along their old trajectory,
Vigilant
would be directly under their guns as their sensors came on line, and Valessanna would have bet everything she owned that the Vazileks kept their weapons powered and ready at all times during a pursuit. If the unthinkable happened,
Vigilant
would be very lucky to escape a second time.

Forward, the stars moved down and to the right across the viewscreens at an excruciatingly slow pace. A minute passed, then two, and no Vazilek ship appeared. A third minute elapsed, and Valessanna began to relax slightly. They were now headed away from their previous course by more than twenty degrees and at nearly the speed of light. If the Vazileks showed themselves now, even at the closet point along their old vector, they would be hard pressed to inflict any significant damage to
Vigilant
before she could disappear back above the threshold of light speed. The worst they could do would be to shadow her again.

The bridge, normally quiet, now made a sepulcher at midnight seem lively. The crew seemed to be holding their collective breath. Only occasional chirps from the instruments could be heard and, fearing that each was the harbinger of the sudden appearance of a Vazilek ship, they jangled Valessanna’s nerves for an instant each time their sound waves impacted her ear drums. She checked the virtual console hanging before her. Over six minutes had passed; the course change was more than half way to being complete.

She alternated her gaze from her own monitor to the viewscreens to the crewman seated at the sensor station. She waited for him to flinch, startled by one of their pursuers going sub-light and coalescing into a ship on his threat board. But the man never budged. He sat like a stone before his monitor, intently studying the readouts.

Nine minutes had now gone by since they had dropped to sub-light speed. The turn was nearly complete. Valessanna caught herself anxiously clicking her molars together with rapidity, making a tapping sound in her head. She forced herself to relax the muscles of her jaw, before the anxiety she was exhibiting became detectable by the crew.

Eleven minutes passed and still no Vazilek ship appeared. There were only a few degrees left to turn. Valessanna’s knee bounced above an overactive foot. Finally Busht’s voice broke the silence. “Commencing stabilization burn,” he said. The movement of the stars across the viewscreens slowed; then halted. “Course change complete. New course forty-seven point four by two twenty-seven point eight. Navigation, do you concur?”

“Analyzing vector,” Abblehoff answered. “Request thruster control,” he added a few moments later.

“Thruster control transferred to navigation station,” Busht intoned dispassionately.

“I have thruster control,” Abblehoff announced. “Final alignment commencing now.” There was a pause as the last tiny adjustments to the ship’s course were made. Then Abblehoff spoke again. “Ship alignment well within parameters, passing thruster control back to maneuvering.”

“Maneuvering accepts thruster control,” Busht acknowledged. “Ship is secure. Velocity point nine nine four. Request permission to accelerate to point nine nine eight.”

“Permission denied, engage the deep drive,” Valessanna ordered curtly. She had not gone this far without using the mains only to leave a trail at the last moment.

Busht cast a glance over his shoulder at her, raising an eyebrow as if to inquire what Arkhus would say about engaging at this velocity.

Valessanna nodded slightly in acknowledgement and, seeing that all other eyes were forward, mouthed two unspoken words to Busht: “Fuck Calese!” He smiled slightly, turned back to his console, and punched up the drive. With a buck and a bone rattling jerk,
Vigilant
again disappeared beyond the light barrier.

Less than ten minutes later a Vazilek ship went sub-light near the spot where
Vigilant
had begun her course change. Its sensors sprang to life, probing a vast spherical area around it and finding nothing save one of its own that lay almost directly astern, nearly at the limit of its sensor range, and on an identical course.

A third ship appeared, this one directly ahead, again at the fringe of where the first ship’s sensors could penetrate, and again on exactly the same heading. Even as the forward ship activated its sensors the hindmost ship winked out, accelerating to a position ahead of the other two where it would slow to search again. Seconds later the first ship, now the last in line, did the same. The Vazileks would continue this maneuver for days, piercing down the corridor of
Vigilant’s
last known vector, determined to track down their wounded quarry. It would be nearly a week before they accepted the fact that the Akadeans had escaped.

Within seventy-two hours
Vigilant
entered orbit around a small planetoid in a binary system. Her contingent of robot laborers was dispatched to the surface, where they immediately began working ceaselessly in the nearly non-existent and oxygen-free atmosphere to locate, mine, and refine the raw materials that would be necessary for the ship’s repair. Fabrication of the myriad parts, supports, fasteners, circuits, servos and even the replacement robots that would be required to set the ship to rights was to begin in a few short weeks.
Vigilant
was months from leaving for home, but the big ship was no longer in imminent danger.

Aside from the few people who, clad in environmental suits, shuttled back and forth to the surface to oversee the machines, the crew remained on board with nothing but time on their hands. Even a large majority of the engineering staff would have little work to occupy them until the finished parts and supplies began to arrive. A sense of ennui set in immediately and everyone began looking for stimulating pastimes to keep them busy until the ship was back under way.

This was normal, but the pace of the crew’s search for relief seem hurried to Valessanna, almost certainly an aftereffect of their brush with death in the aberrant system. They would amuse themselves with sports, games, artistic pursuits, and ultimately sex—lots and lots of sex. Having experienced many long layovers in her career, Valessanna frowned on much of the libertine intimacy that would inevitably come to fruition in the near future. It was like being in charge of hundreds of Abblehoffs, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had not the power to ban fraternization. Arguments, spats, and jealousy among the crew always created problems for a commander on long, deep space missions, but having an idle crew cooped up in orbit for months was a recipe for chaos. It would not be long before security would have to be stepped up, hearings would need to be held, and fines would have to be levied.

It reminded Valessanna of her days in the Cartographic Corps. It never seemed to matter how careful they were, when the corps had ten ships leap frogging each other through uncharted space, eventually one would suffer some sort of mishap or need to stop for repairs. Usually it was not serious, but nevertheless the whole expedition would be held up until that one ship could be made spaceworthy. From there it never failed, tensions within each crew would build until finally emotions boiled over somewhere. There was nothing to do but deal with each outbreak as it occurred.