IceFlight Read online

The main link of the Grace seemed to stretch impossibly far in front of Data Senior Pinion. However, it was not the unusual length of the ship that had Clearwing rattled, or her unusually slow progress along it. The conversation of her companion had disturbed her more than any physical challenge. The leader of the BGP clung to her right arm, ancient fingers clamped on her wrist and forearm like talons, while they drifted slowly forward. However, Lady Grace’s comments cut even deeper than her nails and Clear’s hair writhed in embarrassment at the topic of her conversation.

  “Space sake, child,” Grace snapped in response. “Stop the hair thrash.”

  “I can’t,” Clear protested while the older kres leaned away from her supportive arm in an effort to avoid a writhing strand. Clear tried to calm the darting lock, but her embarrassment was too strong to control. “I truly can’t, Lady,” she repeated through gritted teeth, and Grace blinked when another blonde wisp escaped its braid to snake across her face.

  “Ye gods, girl. I simply said that your leader is in lust with you. Must you react so to the obvious?”

  “I clearly lack your eye for the obvious,” Clear answered tartly and the old lady chuckled.

  “Cheeky chick. I am surprised to see such spirit. And relieved.” She batted belatedly at a still-settling strand and frowned again. “If also most uncomfortable. Perhaps I should have let Sparrow escort me to the nest.”

  “Indeed, Lady,” the DS agreed tightly. “I do have other duties.”

  “None of such importance, I assure you,” Grace answered with supreme confidence. “I can offer you information. Obvious information that you will certain-sure need.”

  “Ah.” There was a brief silence while Clear wondered what the old bird could possibly be dangling in front of her. She licked her softening lips without being aware of the gesture. “Information? Obvious information?”

  “Indeed. I’d not mention such, but you have shown no eye for the obvious. Especially when it centers on Freefall. Well, this is about your Leader and what he has agreed to.”

  Clear licked her lips again. “What has Leader FarFlight agreed to?”

  Grace sniffed and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Pert asking, young Pinion, most unsubtle, but then diplomacy is clearly not your first gift. Your Leader will enter into marriage. A marriage of the best and most suited type. Princess Goldown will carry his heirs.”

  “Not Goldown.” The words were out before Clear could stop them, starkly honest, and she found herself glaring at Lady Grace, daring the old kres to respond. “Not Goldown,” she repeated between gritted teeth, and Grace’s fronds writhed in apparent surprise.

  “Goldown indeed,” she grumped. “Why do you think the Arck let us lift without assassins? And why are you free, child? If you’re truly innocent, if you gave no help to the Harvesters, then you were well framed and members of The Thousand are implicated. That blood you spilt left enough DNA to show Clan BackBeak. Convicting you instead would have placed them in the Arck’s debt. Despite that, it was their greatest wish. You disHonored their most successful fleet spy and rendered him useless. In response, they’re most unpleased. Their killers will hunt you.”

  “Hunt me?” Clear echoed in disbelief. Anger and grief were joined by confusion as she struggled with the emotional load. “Me?”

  Grace leaned closer, eyes hooded while she studied Clear floating beside her. If she felt any pity, she wasn’t about to let it sway her. “Ye, chick. Freefall has placed himself between you and this danger. He has bartered what he must and he will soon barter more. He will wed the princess.” She stopped to sigh, and her hand shook on Clearwing’s arm. “She is even less forgiving than the Arck. She is vindictive, DS, and if she thought her husband ever strayed, he would die.” The last word was spat through seamed lips and Clear shivered in response.

  “I understand, Lady.”

  “I hope you do. It would be a tragedy. A total tragedy, to harm the one you love.” There was a long moment of silence that Grace allowed to stretch out while the youngster beside her grappled with unexpected grief. Which was truly ridiculous. How could she be crazed enough to care for someone so far above her? Someone important, who could never even notice her, except as a competent officer.

  “Come, DS,” the old kres said at last. “Let us go and make an appearance.”

  

  Free flicked both an eyelid and a thought at his console display to enlarge the hologram hanging before him. It was a view of the shrinking passage point behind them, their entrance to this remote system. It should have been invisible by now, an unremarkable area of space, as dark as its surroundings, but it wasn’t. It flickered before Free’s eyes, sparking ominously, despite their clean passage.

  Over an hour had passed since they entered through it, but it still showed flashes of activity. The intermittent bursts would have gone unnoticed by most leaders as a normal part of using any passage. Nearly all ships triggered random activations after exiting. Not my ship, Freefall thought grimly. Not for such time.

  He tipped a frond toward his nav senior and sensed her uneasiness. She was concerned by the continued firing of the passage and he shared her uncertainty. She was the best pilot in the Royal Fleet and a perfect judge of how much exotic matter was needed to open a passage. It was unlike her to use any excess, much less enough to keep a passage intermittently activating for almost an hour.

  Still, Free mused, it’s a new ship and some slip is reasonable. He sighed softly and checked his scans, but the system was still empty of other ships and there was no sign of any hull breach or exotic matter leak from the Grace. There was no reason for his alarm and he irritably ran a finger under his braided collar. He relaxed at once, making an effort to sit back at his ease for the benefit of his crew. His mind held to its usual façade of confidence when he changed his display to show him the crew still working outside the ship.

  There were five of them, a hand of engineers readying a trap for any passing pirates. They floated before his eyes, now distant from the Grace while they rigged a string of empty transport shells, preparing the bait that would slowly circle this system. They seemed to be taking longer than usual and Free watched impatiently as they drifted around the final pod that still needed to be coupled. He took a slow, deep breath, but it failed to calm him. The menace of the kres court still felt too close, despite the dozen passages now separating him from Kresynt.

  The system’s nearer passage point flashed again and instantly claimed Free’s attention. Despite banishing its visual to a small segment of space above his left hand, he found it impossible to ignore. His concern returned with unexpected urgency and that taste of fear pushed him to make a decision. He silently ordered a strike team to stand ready.

  His Senior’s head rose sharply across the nest when Gull’s com relayed news of the order. He frowned at his Leader, but Free was deliberately oblivious while he passed instructions to the responding Strike-senior.

  A new hologram appeared in the air before Free, a visual of the strike team now deploying. They shot from an exit pore in the Grace’s hull and coasted to a halt not far from the ship. Free’s com relayed a silent order to hold position and they hovered in place, gleaming motes in the surrounding darkness. The five team members stayed silent and focused on their strike leader. She floated at the apex of their arrow-shaped formation, waiting patiently for further orders, her outsized com pulsing gently around her forearm.

  Free checked her team’s deployment with silent satisfaction. High, low, left and right wings were in position and ready to move. All they needed was some sign of danger. He sat straight and stiff in his chair and had to make a conscious effort not to chew his lip. He was increasingly aware of his Senior’s scrutiny, but avoided any mental contact.

  Free had no reason for a strike activation, at least nothing strong enough to explain to Gull. His uneasiness over his Nav Senior’s unusually sloppy passage seemed increasingly silly. The out-ship teks finally signalled that the bait was ready and Fre
efall acknowledged them with a silent sigh. His fear suddenly smacked of paranoia and he offered Gull an apologetic smile.

  However, his Senior had no chance to respond. A flare shot across Free’s image of the passage point. It was not the muted spark of a random activation, but the incandescent trail of a ship passaging at speed. It lit up the nest and the alarmed expressions of all the crew. Everyone was frozen, except for the leader.

  “Go,” Freefall ordered his strike team, and they responded at once. Their coms pulsed before they streaked away into the dark. The Grace shrank behind them as they hurtled toward the passage point and the returning teks. The two groups closed at speed, but were still far apart when the approaching ship fired.

  An energy pulse throbbed the entire length of the invader’s main strut. It built until the strange ship shook and then released with staggering force.

  A wave of plasma leapt across the system. It spread at bewildering speed, flashing outward from the now-inert hulk that had released it. “ExM,” Gull rasped, and Free realized that his Senior was right.

  The pulse was impregnated with exotic matter and was still moving at post-passage speed. It spread exponentially, exploding from its source to irradiate the entire system.

  “That’s illegal,” Clearwing protested, and Free looked up automatically.

  His Data Senior was floating at the edge of the link, holding tight to Lady Grace. The old lady snorted at her naïve comment and Free pulled his attention back to the attack.

  The plasma cloud ballooned toward them, but he hesitated, caught between saving his ship and trying to save the crew outside. His agony grew, but, despite it, he threw aside his indecision. The out-ship crew were already dead and Free knew it.

  “Close on the plasma front,” he ordered hoarsely. “Over-speed. Get us close enough for a mini-jump. DS, search for their exotic matter and tag any trace of a stretched passage. NS, use the tag to jump us past that plasma wave and drop us on top of the bustwing who fired it. Now.”

  Clear made no effort to reach her console, but Free relaxed when she tapped straight into it from the link instead. She must know exactly what he wanted her to find. Their attacker had fired as soon as it entered the system. The overwhelming blast was meant to surprise them and the exotic matter was included to give it irresistible speed and spread. True-enough, he mused, but that ExM burst was too close to passage point. Part of it must certain-sure have fused to the singularity.

  If Clear could find such a strand the Grace would be able to connect with it and jump to safety. If we can find it and use it, just reach it in time before it snaps back…

  “Got it, sah,” Clear cried and Free dug his nails into the arm of his chair. He opened his mouth, but further orders were unnecessary. The young DS instantly passed the co-ordinates of her passage contact to the Navigation Senior.

  The ship groaned deep and made a desperate leap to survive.

  It dived into the exploding cloud of plasma, engines screaming while it thrust toward the disintegrating passage that Clear had found. That link between the wave front and the system’s singularity finally severed, even as the NS reached for it. Free watched it disappear from his screen and ground his fists against his seat. He’d been too slow. They were all dead.

  The ship’s protective field started to buckle when energised plasma engulfed it and they disappeared into a boiling arc. There was a roar and something collapsed, but at that moment the NS speared their own exotic matter into the recoiling passage point. It hooked fast and the ship jumped with wrenching speed.

  It left normal space while the plasma wave continued on. The Grace passaged past it to emerge unscathed. The ship shot back into the dark and cold of space, a crushed and misshapen diamond that ran on toward its unharmed enemy.

  However, that attacker was even more helpless than its prey. It filled the Grace’s central nest display, but there was no sign of movement. Free leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair, and stared at that darkened diamond. It drifted still and silent, left empty by the force it had released.

  “Life trace?” he asked, and looked around for his DS.

  There was no sign of Clear in the nest or the link. Clear, his mind called before he could control it. His hair stirred against his neck in quick shame. His Data Senior was fine. He could sense her further down the link. Her com pulsed acknowledgment and a moment later she appeared, shooting into the nest at full thrust.

  “None, sah,” she answered breathlessly, and continued to her console. She grabbed its edge to slide into her seat, calling up full-scan as she did so. “No life at all. There… there are bio-traces, but… they’re oxidized. Burnt beyond recognition.” Her voice fell until she could hardly be heard. “The whole ship’s charred. Hollow-as. Both ship and crew were sacrificed. Sacrificed to make that shot.” Her voice faded away and silence claimed the nest.

  Free scarcely noticed. He was unaware of his surroundings and blind to his crew. Abruptly, horrifically, all he could sense was death. He could feel it all around him, from his teks, his strike-team, their attackers and, worst of all, inside his own ship. His lips felt numb and his throat dry, but words came automatically anyway. “Report,” he ordered distantly, and Clear flinched.

  “Sah,” she husked, buying time while she switched her scan to their vessel. Numbers appeared in the air before her and she recited them flatly for Freefall.

  “Compartments epsila, deltyn and beta are crushed. Present number dead, fifty. Engineering team En-one, fifteen dead, total loss. Strike-team Es-one, five dead, total loss. Boarding teams Bee-one through three, twenty-five dead, total loss. Nest-watch team Command-two, five dead, twenty-five percent loss, fourteen intensive-hurt, in total ninety-five percent capacity loss. Assorted crew, seventeen minor-hurt, one hundred and eleven intensive-hurt.”

  Clear was finally forced to stop for a shuddering breath and her summary fell to little more than a whisper. “Full shipwide death plus intensive-hurt, equals thirty-five percent. Thirty bodies on board and twenty… not.”

  Clear’s voice faded completely and silence reclaimed the nest. Every crewmember sat stunned and lost. Free closed his eyes and then his mind, to avoid their misery, but the quiet was broken by Gull clearing his throat. The noise was shockingly loud in that grief-stricken room. Every kres sat straighter when their Senior wafted to the centre of the nest. He bumped to a halt against Free’s chair and rested a hand lightly on its braided back.

  “Many thanks, DS,” Gull rasped as he swung to face Clear. “Get to work on fix-figures. I want repair estimates soon-as. Get people moving, Data Senior.”

  “Ye, sah,” she responded, and turned back to her work, her fingers and mind flying through her console display.

  Gull continued issuing orders to the rest of the crew, until everyone was busy. The sad silence was replaced by industry and Free abruptly moved.

  He pushed from his chair with enough force to hurtle straight across the vast nest toward his quarters. He threw a curt thanks over his shoulder while he shot toward his cabin. “Good work, all and most specially you, Gull. You’ve nest-charge. I’m off-watch and I’ll take no guests. None, Senior.”

  Free reached his room with the last word and passed his security field with indescribable relief. At least in his quarters he was finally free from scrutiny. However, he had scarcely been reclaimed by gravity before a peremptory whistle sounded from his door, demanding entry.

  “Drak.” He ignored the summons and buried his face in his hands, driving his fingers back through his hair. He was in no mood to see anyone, but his door whistled again and then its field wavered. A priority pulse pushed straight through it, followed by Lady Grace. She tottered into the room and her com resealed the door behind her. Free looked up in fury when his uninvited guest tapped her way across the unadorned cabin floor.

  “I told Gull no guests,” he snarled, but the old lady just sniffed.

  She halted stiffly and bent toward Freefall, leaning on her cane to st
and as close as she could. She invaded his personal space as if his anger was of no concern and then craned her neck to look up and answer his glare with a wicked grin.

  “I know. Your poor Senior wasn't sure whether to hit me or force me into stasis. Fortunately for him, he did neither. Perhaps he knew I was here to tell you to stop feeling sorrow for yourself.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t look so outraged, boy. Yes, you’ve lost crew, young crew too, but you didn't kill them.”

  Free’s hands twitched, but he managed to keep them from Grace’s scrawny throat. “I know that, Lady. The sorrow I feel is for good people and the lives they lost, not for myself.”

  “Nonsense.” She turned away with an artful flip of her dark skirts, seemingly oblivious to the outraged young leader. He closed his mouth against a curse and folded his arms, holding himself tightly in check while Grace settled on his bed like a weathered vulture.

  “Nonsense, Free. Yes, yes, there is truth in what you say, but only a part. You don’t just feel sad for the loss of your crew, you feel responsible. The emotion that has its claws in you isn't grief, boy. It’s guilt. You should have tried harder, you should have thought faster, you should have known sooner. You should have saved them.”

  Free couldn’t hide a start of recognition at the train of thought and Grace snorted. “Do you think your guilt satisfies the souls that you lost? Does it help them or bring them peace? Does it help your surviving crew or bring you the peace you need to be a leader?”

  Free jerked as though shot and the old lady’s voice cracked across the darkened room. “Self-indulgence. You are bringing more harm where you should bring help.”

  He swallowed hard and Grace’s voice softened. “Perhaps you failed to do all you could for your crew, but knowing you, I doubt such. If so or not, it’s no matter. You must carry the responsibilities you still have. To your crew and to your people, Freefall.” She watched him intently, lips puckered, while fresh anger gripped him and he clutched his elbows convulsively. His fingers twitched anyway, but he managed to keep them from her throat.

  “If you’re here to press your deal for the necessary, be warned. This is certain-sure not the time.”

  “I know how it hurts to wrong-move,” Grace offered more gently. “Truly I do. More than you will ever know.”

  Free drew a harsh breath, thrown by her sudden sympathy and made no effort to deny the accusation. Instead his shoulders sagged and his fronds slumped with them. His anger was swamped by grief and regret. He sighed and took two strides to the bed, sinking onto his knees at Grace’s side. She tutted once at the strength of his sorrow, but her hand rose to touch his hair. She patted the disconsolate young leader twice and then awkwardly brushed a dark lock back from his forehead.

  “Mistakes get made, Free.” She gulped and her voice caught. “That’s a guarantee in every life.”

  He looked up miserably and her hand fell away from its attempt at comfort. “I hesitated,” he whispered. “I just… stopped.”

  “I was in-link. I saw no pause, Leader.”

  He pushed away from her, rocking back on his heels. “Don’t call me such. I’m no such. Thirty more people are dead because I failed to lead sooner. They were on my ship, not lost out-ship like the others, but they died too. They’re gone, because I stopped.”

  “How long?” Grace demanded harshly. “How long did you wait?”

  Free blanched, but his jaw set as he forced himself to remember. “At least four…no, truly, a full five seconds. I was ice. Just watching that wave grow…” He had to halt, disconsolate again.

  “Ah,” Grace breathed softly. “Five seconds, eh? Full five seconds in the instant it happened. And why was that?”

  Free opened his mouth to reply, but Grace answered her own question. “Because you took time to assess your options. You needed a moment to decide what hope there was. You wouldn't just abandon your out-walk crew.”

  “Yes,” he gulped, but then shook a hand in angry denial. “No. I was too slow. I should have chosen more-quick. Those twenty were already dead, but my hesitation killed thirty more.”

  Grace hissed and her cane struck the floor. “Such pride,” she rasped while her fronds snapped forward in reproach. “To hold your acts the sole cause of life or death. The pirates who attacked us killed your crew, boy. That life-weight lies with them. You did well to save the rest of us. You did,” she insisted in response to his fronds’ denial. “That attack was set for a total kill, but you were too quick.”

  Free frowned, distracted by Grace’s interpretation of his failure, and she dipped her head toward his. One of her thin fronds flew forward with surprising speed to connect with one of his. He froze at the intimate contact and her words dropped into his head. I swear no other in all-fleet could have acted so fast. None-such.

  Free pulled his frond back in stiff affront, but not before Grace sensed the single word that was still crowding his mind. “Ah.” She straightened carefully and her lips pursed like a crinkled, volcanic peak. “Nightwing.”

  Free looked away, but his mind underlined his assessment. Wing would’ve moved faster.

  “Truly,” Grace agreed without hesitation. “He would have swung for passage more-quick.”

  Free looked up sharply and the old lady barked in amusement at his sense of hurt.

  “Did you think I’d lie, boy? Wing would have reacted in the instant and we both know it. But Nightwing is exceptional. It’s his true gift, the one thing he really does have over you. He can choose a path in the time it takes others just to register danger. And he all-times chooses right, even with no time for thought. I’ve never seen such before and I’ve seen much, Free. Enough to be certain-sure you acted near as fast as could be. Don’t guilt because you found it hard to abandon your crew. To be a true leader, compassion is needed. That, and your conscience, will hold you to duties more easily ignored.”

  Grace paused with a meaningful look and Free’s heart sank.

  “Our deal,” he sighed, and the opening was enough for her to push on.

  “Ye, the deal where all win. Let me finalise with the Arck and the hunt will stop. He can rein in the BackBeaks if we make it worthwhile for him.”

  Free’s brow furrowed in surprise at the mental emphasis to Grace’s request. “You mean more than our deal,” he realized, and a seamed finger twitched in agreement.

  “Certain-sure. The Arck is near five hundred years old. With each day, the Safe Successioners gain power at his expense. His rule grows increasingly unsure with no clear heir. He refuses to name Goldown, but he would be willing to favor her children.”

  Free slapped his thigh impatiently. “As you said. So offer to get the princess with chick.”

  The old lady hissed in apparent annoyance at his stupidity. “She needs more than one babe. She needs a husband. A husband the Successioners will accept.”

  Free tried to interrupt, but she forced words over his protest. “There must be a marriage. A union that offers commitment and stability. The Arck requires it and so do our people. There’s no need to bed her, Free. No talk of such. Your life remains your own, but your name must serve the empire. We need you. The kres people need you.”

  Grace’s plea rang around the cabin and then her mouth snapped shut. She had been leaning forward, holding Free’s gaze, but she abruptly sat back and clasped her hands in her lap. Her fronds twitched, but only to settle meekly against the folds of her neck. The tip of one rose to idly brush the amber jewel at her throat, and she made no more effort to influence Free.

  He suddenly stood and turned away, pacing angrily across the room, before stopping by an illusory window and staring into the darkness it showed. He wanted to scream and rail at the universe, but had always hated gestures of self-pity.

  Instead, he made a decision, looking back over his shoulder at Grace.

  “Such a union would free my crew from this hunt? All of them?”

  “Ye,” the head of the BGP agreed simply. />
  Free hesitated again, but only briefly. His hands abruptly fell, to hang limp and empty at his sides. The emotions he sent to Grace were grim, but resolved. “Marry the royal gat? Ye, why the hail not?”

  Grace’s only response was a brief lowering of her lids to show agreement. If she felt joy or triumph she kept them locked tight within her mind. She rose stiffly from the bed, leaning on her cane, and managed to rustle as close to upright as her body now came. “I’ll contact the Arck for you,” she offered, and Free snorted with bitter humour.

  “Not for me,” he pointed out. “For you. And not yet. We’ve a trap to re-set. I’ll not disHonor my lost crew. We stay and we stay silent until the mission they died for is done. No coms ‘til we make a pirate kill.”

  28

  Ships That Pass in the Night