Zoe cradled her mug with both hands, then flipped up the spout and blew on the contents. She took a cautious sip, sighed, met his gaze, and tsk-tsked. “Ghosts, that’s what, Boss. Every derelict structure has at least one spooky inhabitant. It’s a well-known fact.”
20
Ghosts, Grady thought, shaking his head. Why did Zoe have to mention ghosts? It wasn’t the paranormal variety that tortured his thoughts as he docked the gunship with the now restored outpost. But memories from his past, from the Colony War. Anguished remembrances—the worst, soul-raking, sort.
It was the sight of the intact domes that triggered the recollections, he concluded as he strode along the corridor leading to Cavalier’s ops center, his footsteps loud in his ears in the restored artificial gravity. In this dimension, the outpost’s habitation domes remained intact, a far cry from the destruction caused by the slavers when they attacked Cavalier in his reality. And very different from the structures his memory conjured—unbidden—on the screen of his mind.
Meridian Nine colony. The words intertwined themselves among his bleak thoughts—like a viper slithering from beneath a rock poised to gouge his foot—as he paced the echoing hallways. Doc Hawthorne, assisted by the freighter’s medic, was in the outpost’s medical center, tending to the worst of the injured, while Chalmers and Sam remained on Adventurer to see to those less seriously hurt. Though not housing a full hospital, the abandoned base boasted one key piece of equipment Adventurer lacked: a regeneration tank. With this device, otherwise fatal radiation burns could be treated, and lives saved.
But the single tank only accommodated one person at a time. And the healing process was slow. All told, Hawthorne estimated it would require almost two full days to stabilize the most grievously injured so they would be well enough to continue the journey to New Heb station—as long as there were no setbacks or complications for any of the patients.
His jaw clenched, Grady closed his eyes—his breathing shallow as his chest tightened—and leaned against the bulkhead at the entrance to the control room. Domes. He kept picturing domes, one in particular. But unlike those at Cavalier in this corner of the multiverse, the one he visualized was cracked like an egg, ravaged by laser cannon fire from a rebel fighter flown by his then squadron leader, Brice Cavill. He groaned, willing the image away. It refused to budge. Blonde tresses trailing behind her—like the particles spewing from a comet’s tail—a little girl’s bloated corpse floated upward from the fissure in the habitation dome on Meridian Nine.
Hers was not the only body to spiral into the void after Cavill’s unprovoked attack on the civilian colony, O2 venting into space as vacuum rushed in. But it was the only one to gyre close to Grady’s fighter—where he hovered in place, features a rictus of shock—so that he found himself staring at her face. Or what was left of it, her countenance a frozen mask of horror.
What had she been doing in the moments before death unexpectedly stretched out its icy hand to claim her? He would never know. The colony was new, small, lacking significant defenses. Had there been a warning of an impending attack? Perhaps not. The Interstellar Coalition was at war with Earth Galactic forces, not unmilitarized civilian colonies who they hoped to persuade to join the rebellion. There would have been no reason, other than natural caution, for the settlement’s meager defenders to suspect the approaching fighters intended to open fire. And the orders Cavill and the other pilots received at the mission briefing were clear: gather intel, observe, report back—but do not interact with the colony in any manner. Little did Grady realize his squadron leader had other, far more deadly, intentions.
Sweat shimmered on his brow, and Grady’s hands balled into fists, his fingernails digging into the palms. “Not now,” he murmured, afraid someone would see his distress, ask him what was wrong. Grateful that the base was abandoned—and his crew members busy elsewhere—he bent at the waist, urging his racing pulse to slow, and sucked in heady lungfuls of stale, but breathable, air.
His ear-mic vibrated, and he straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Captain?” came Lian’s animated tones. “I’ve now finished restoring all primary systems. Looks to me like the rebels intended to return to the outpost, maybe in greater numbers, and reclaim it before the enemy did. They left everything in proper working order.”
“Good to know,” Grady said. “Have you determined the extent of the damage from the attack?”
“From what I can tell, one section is closed off by blast doors, probably as a precaution in case of sudden decompression. The habitation blocks and the central structure remain intact, as are most of the defensive armaments.”
“The intel we received stated the raid was small scale,” Grady said. “It’s possible the attackers had a limited objective—perhaps planning merely to disable the base or force the rebels to leave—and knew they lacked the firepower for a full-on assault.”
“Does that mean we need to keep looking over our shoulders in case more hostiles show up, come to finish the job?”
“Hopefully, we won’t be here long enough for that to matter,” Grady said. “So long as our presence goes unnoticed, we should be safe.” He now stood in the middle of the operations room, surrounded by consoles and displays, no one sitting at the stations to assess the data they presented. “Head back to the ship when you’re done.”
He tapped his ear-mic, changing to external comms. “Captain to Adventurer. What’s the status of the freighter?”
It was Tara who answered. “Squirt just got out of decontam. He managed to stabilize the reactor and initiate additional decontamination procedures, finishing what the chief engineer started before collapsing. Thankfully, our biohazard suits provide more effective protection than the outdated one he wore.”
“Was Squirt able to restart Bright Moon’s sublight engines and key systems?”
“Affirmative. Captain Johansen commed to convey her further gratitude for our help. She confirmed her vessel can now proceed under its own power, though not as fast as she would like. She’s currently holding position thirty thousand meters from the asteroid and will maintain a watch for more intruders.”
“Understood.” Grady dropped into a chair facing a floating display. “I’ll stay over here for now while doc and the freighter’s medic are working on the injured. I want to review the outpost’s logs, assuming I can gain access using the codes Kotov gave us.”
Tara snorted. “Who’re you kidding, Bro? Remember, I know you well. You just want to binge on the base’s stash of real coffee. Difficult—and pricey—to come by these days.” When checking the outpost’s defensive readiness and inventory of weapons, Lian had discovered a list of its remaining food stores, including a stock of genuine coffee beans. Grady imagined the base’s former commander must have had a fondness for a re-energizing brew.
He ordered Lian and Zoe to fill Adventurer’s holds with the food, treating it as resupply since he wasn’t sure when—or even if—they would reach New Heb given the blockade. It wasn’t as if there was any hope of rendezvousing with a support vessel carrying fresh provisions, as they normally would in their own reality while on an extended patrol. And he doubted the rebels would mind, since it seemed unlikely the outpost would be re-garrisoned soon. At least Adventurer didn’t need refueling, her extended-life fusion reactor providing power for many years to come.
Grady eyed the screen, noting that the facility’s sensors and point defense network were online, no contacts showing. “The thought never crossed my mind,” he said as he pulled up a visual of the floor plan and soon spotted the main galley and mess hall. “Sure, sure,” Tara said with a chuckle. “You’re not fooling me. I bet the front of your jacket is already slick with drool, and you can’t wait to get a pot on the go.”
He tsk-tsked. “Disgusting. Is that how flight school taught you to speak to a superior officer?” Having downloaded a copy of the schematic to his forearm patch, Grady pushed to his feet and headed for the exit. “Big brother first, commanding officer second,” Tara said, her voice crackling with amusement. “If at all.”
“That sounds like insubordination to me. Though I guess our alternate mother won’t be too thrilled if we end up deciding to pay the family a visit and you’re locked in the brig.”
“We don’t have a brig. Besides, Mal likes me and would release me. Isn’t that right, digital buddy?”
“Ahem,” came Mal’s voice over the comm. “No comment. I’d rather not find myself caught in the crosshairs of a sibling brouhaha.”
“Brouhaha?”
“Indeed, Captain,” declared the AI in his rounded butleresque tones. “Ruckus. Fracas. Rumpus. It wasn’t only my personality matrix that benefited from the recent overhaul. My vocabulary also received a commensurate expansion.”
“Huh, so I see,” Grady said. “The jury’s still out on the tangible benefits of either upgrade.”
“I think it makes Mal’s character even more memorable,” Tara said.
“More like idiosyncratic,” Grady said. “Though definitely more distinctive, I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said the AI. “I think. Will you be returning to the ship soon?”
“In a while. There are some things I need to check on first.”
Tara blew a raspberry. “Don’t believe him, Mal. He just wants to get his hands on the outpost’s stock of coffee before anyone else beats him to it. There’s a reason he asked Zoe to leave it to last before liberating it.”
His hand on a canister of coffee in the galley located off the mess hall, Grady quirked an eyebrow. “Is it my imagination, or has discipline on Adventurer gone to hell since you joined, Sis?”
“Whose discipline? Yours?” she replied with a laugh. “I remember when growing up, you always liked to hide your favorite snacks and treats around the house and the yard where you thought no one would find them.”
There was a moment of silence, then she added, “Seems to me nothing much has changed. You just can’t help yourself where your taste buds are concerned, can you, Bro?”
