As the last of the injured were being stretchered onto Adventurer, Grady was surprised to receive an external comm. It was Johansen. “Captain,” she said. “I want to reiterate my heartfelt thanks for all you and your people have done for my ship and crew. I am forever grateful.”
“We’re happy to help,” Grady replied. “You can thank me in person over supper when you come aboard. I’m sure you’d welcome a hot meal, as I understand your galley is out of commission.”
“I would, indeed, but I’m sorry to disappoint,” Johansen said, a note of regret in her voice. “Two volunteers and I are remaining aboard Bright Moon when you begin the tow. I am aware of the continuing danger of attack, either by pirates or roving Earth Galactic forces. I realize you must disengage the tractor beam should hostiles arrive, in order to engage them. We still have maneuvering thrusters and partial weapons, even though we are down on power because of the reactor breach. We can defend ourselves if need be. This ship has been good to us, Captain, and I’m not prepared to give up on the old girl without a fight.”
Grady hesitated before responding. Remaining on a vessel while it was under tow was hazardous to life and limb under the best of conditions. With minimal power, Bright Moon would have limited ability to maneuver should an attack unfold. Most likely, the freighter would be captured or destroyed, depending on the attackers’ intentions. But he had to admire Johansen for refusing to abandon her command. Would he do anything different if their circumstances were reversed? He realized he wouldn’t.
“Then we’ll take a raincheck,” Grady commed. “And I’ll buy you dinner when we reach New Heb.”
“I can’t agree to that,” came Johansen’s firm reply. “It is I who will buy you dinner.”
With a smile, Grady gave a nod, even though the conversation was audio only and she couldn’t see the motion. He was growing to like and respect this tough-minded captain. “It’s a deal.”
“Meanwhile, I have a request.”
“Name it.”
“If the enemy arrives in force, don’t hesitate to withdraw and leave us behind,” Johansen said in a resolute voice. “The lives of both our crews, and the fighter pilots, are in your hands. Please don’t jeopardize them by a brave but unwise attempt to protect my ship. You have already done your duty. In fact, more than that, since I understand you and your crew are, astoundingly, from another dimension. Promise me you’ll get everyone to safety, Captain, including the members of my crew who are now on board your ship.”
Grady had trouble answering thanks to the lump that formed in his throat. He swallowed, brushed his fingers across his brow, and said, “You have my word, Captain. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He paused, sensing that he should say more. Before he could add anything further, Johansen beat him to it: “Agreed. A safe journey to us all. Bright Moon out.”
With a heavy sigh, wondering if the freighter’s courageous captain—who he hadn’t even met in person—had just signed her own death warrant, Grady switched to the internal comm and ordered Squirt to activate the ship’s tractor beam. Moments later, a broad, liquid green beam of light shot from the gunship’s stern and wrapped itself around the other vessel. “This is going to slow us down a lot,” he told Tara, who had slid into her seat a few minutes earlier after finishing decontamination. “But I’m not prepared to abandon Captain Johansen and her volunteers, not to mention the freighter itself and the fighters it’s carrying. The rebellion needs all the firepower it can muster.”
Tara straightened from giving Gizmo a reassuring scratch under the chin. “If hostiles do materialize and we’re forced to bug out, those spacecraft could fall into the wrong hands.”
Grady nodded, eyeing the sensor holo and the steady gap between the freighter and the gunship as he eased the flight stick forward and engaged the sublight engines. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take, though something tells me Bright Moon’s captain wouldn’t let that happen.”
“You mean you think she’d destroy her own ship, effectively committing suicide and taking her two crewmembers with her?”
“I have a feeling that’s one reason why she chose to remain on board,” Grady said. “One way or another, I’m sensing she’s determined to ensure the fighters either reach New Heb intact or are denied to the enemy. She’s not going to leave it to chance.”
“There’s another option,” Zoe offered from her station. “We could shuttle Johansen and her people off and destroy the ship. That way, there won’t be any possibility the fighters might fall into enemy hands.”
Tara snickered and glanced over her shoulder. “Comet’s balls, you can’t stop destroying things, can you, Grenade Meister?”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta get her kicks any way she can,” Zoe replied, her features cracking into a playful grin. “Besides, those fighters are better off being smashed to smithereens than turned against us.”
“I’d define that as a drastic solution,” Grady said, fingering the display facing him. “Let’s keep it in reserve for now. I don’t plan on us remaining in this dimension for long, but while we’re here, we’ll do everything we can to assist the IC. Somehow, blowing up its vital assets doesn’t seem to fit the bill.” He tilted his head toward Tara. “Now that you’re back, why don’t you take the helm, please, Sis?”
“Happy to,” Tara said, swiping on her holo and cradling the copilot’s joystick with both hands. “I’ve got her.”
Grady nodded and keyed the comm, making a brief ship-wide announcement about his intention to tractor Bright Moon. No sooner had he finished than the internal comm chimed. “Hawthorne here, Captain. I thought you’d like to know the injured have been squared away with the help of the freighter’s medic, along with Professor Chalmers and her subordinate. Meanwhile, I understand Sergeant Mbeki and Lian are seeing to the uninjured survivors’ needs as we speak.”
“Good to hear,” Grady said. “How are the injured doing?”
Hawthorne blew out a breath. “Three of the freighter’s crew are in a critical condition, the worst being the chief engineer. I gather he was the one who managed to stem the reactor breach and save the lives of everyone on board, but received an excessive dose of radiation in the process. In addition, one of the fighter pilots has a pronounced concussion after tripping and falling down a flight of stairs in the freighter’s hangar bay during the emergency. I am quite concerned about her condition, too. The other injured crewmembers are less of a worry, thankfully, and should make a full recovery.”
“Can you treat the most serious cases with the equipment you’ve got on board?”
“I’m afraid their injuries, especially the three suffering from radiation burns, are beyond our medbay’s resources to handle. All I can do is lessen the progression of their symptoms,” Hawthorne said.
Grady thought he detected a note of weariness in the doctor’s voice and could only imagine the stress he was under with several people’s lives depending on his skills as a physician. Not for the first time, Grady felt thankful the doctor had accepted his offer to join their small crew, forsaking retirement for a life among the stars. He’d been convinced the man’s talents and experience would be essential when Adventurer was called on to render assistance to remote colonies, mining operations, or secluded habitations along her patrol route, far from the prospect of help from the nearest IC medical facilities. Circumstances had proven him right more than once.
“Will they make it to New Heb alive?” Grady asked. “We’re heading for the rendezvous point with the rest of our convoy now. Once we rejoin them, I’m going to transfer the towing responsibility to the other freighter to free us up for escort duties again. But towing the damaged ship means the entire convoy will have to proceed at a far slower speed than normal. That’s even assuming the undamaged freighter’s tractor beam is powerful enough to tow its sister ship when we all jump to FTL. Unfortunately, Adventurer could not handle the load while traveling at faster-than-light velocities.”
There was a pause, then Hawthorne cleared his throat. “The prognosis for all three critically ill patients, the chief engineer in particular, is not promising. They each require extensive treatment, including time in a regen tank. We’re doing all we can for them, but we’re not equipped for such advanced care. They need to be admitted to a proper medical facility, and soon.”
Grady cursed under his breath. “Understood, Doc. I’m sure you’re doing everything possible to help them. Please keep me informed about their condition.”
“Will do.” The comm clicked off.
Tara slid her gaze to Grady. “They’re not going to make it, are they?” She peered at the sensor display. “Even after we rejoin our convoy, we’re still several FTL hops away from rendezvousing with the rest of the rebel fleet. And then there’s the not insignificant matter of breaking through the blockade surrounding New Heb.”
“Not to be the voice of pessimism,” Zoe said with a wave of her hand. “But from what doc just told us, all three will be dead long before we’re able to get them to a hospital on New Heb. We don’t even possess intel on the strength of the enemy forces maintaining the blockade. Getting past them might not be easy. Or quick.”
Grady scratched his unshaven chin, the stubble coarse beneath his fingernails. “I suspect you’re right. We’re in for a fight before we reach the station.” His lips tightened, and he slammed his fist down on the chair arm. “Damn it. I refuse to let them die out here. There’s got to be something more we can do.”
He let his eyes drift to the wraparound screen, his gaze narrowing. “Mal, please put up a plot of the entire sector.” A star map appeared in the center of the large display. Grady sat forward, peering at the image. “Now highlight all known space stations and colonies from the intel alternate Kotov had his tech guy provide us before the convoy set off.” Blue dots—each accompanied by a small info box showing key stats—glowed to life across the display.
Grady pushed to his feet and pointed at the screen. “Now remove all those known to be in enemy hands.” The display flickered, most dots disappearing. “And designate IC controlled facilities in green.”
“Well, that sure sucks,” Zoe declared, rotating her seat to face the front of the cockpit. “Looks like Cavill wasn’t kidding when he told us the rebellion here is in a dismal state.” She made a sweeping gesture. “Not a lot of friendly bolt holes, and the nearest one is New Heb, which we’ve already established is several jumps away at best.”
Grady chewed on his lower lip. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He stepped around the pilot’s control panel, gazing at the display. “Something’s missing. Mal?”
“One moment, Captain. I am running a comparison between the sector map from our own reality and the one depicted here based on the data Kotov number two ordered sent to us.”
