Loyalties (HMCS Borealis Book 3) Read online

  "Captain."

  Amba had stood up from her seat, and was standing next to his chair. He'd been stuck so far in his own head, he hadn't even noticed her approach. He was chewing his lip as he turned toward her. "Tassali."

  Her harmonic voice was soft enough that no one else could hear. "Relax, Captain. The ship is safe. Please breathe."

  "Do I look that tense?"

  "You do."

  "Okay, thank you. I'll try to remember to keep breathing."

  "That is well, Captain. I know you'll be busy, so I will be in my cabin."

  He took a breath, focusing on exhaling calmly. "I'll stop by if I can. Though it might not be for a while."

  As Amba left the bridge, her robes twirling about her legs, Dillon peeled his eyes away and turned his attention to the console next to his chair. The data feeds coming from the rest of the fleet had stopped at the moment they entered the jumpgate, leaving the battle frozen on the screen.

  "Tunnel cells installed, sir. We have a link to the relay."

  "Thank you, Comms. Advise Mr. Cho that he has the bridge. I'll be in my cabin making some calls."

  "Aye aye, sir."

  Dillon stood up from his chair. With one last look at the star field stretching past the windows, he turned and left the bridge.

  * * *

  In the time it took to pour and stir coffee, Dillon had retreated to his cabin. Sitting down at his desk, he set the fresh mug down atop a stack of datapads. He knew he only needed one, but preferred to keep a few, each showing a particular task. It was easier than constantly trying to find whatever obscure thing he'd been working on previously. Besides, if Sap was going to start taking the damn things apart for whatever project he was dreaming up, he needed to make sure he had spares.

  A few taps at the terminal on his desk, and the display came to life. It showed him all the communications that had come through the Tunnel cell from the moment the Borealis had installed it a few minutes ago.

  There had been a flurry of messages and tactical data from the other side of the wormhole, but it had stopped. The relays on both sides of the jumpgate were no longer in communication. To Dillon, that confirmed it: the jumpgate had been destroyed. Now, Borealis and her prototype jump drive were the only way home. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, taking a few deep breaths. Everyone on the ship – and the three other ships here in Daltanin space – were depending on Borealis. On him. He knew there was nothing he could do to effect what was happening back home in the Milky Way, but it still bothered him. By now, the humans and Palani could have won the battle, or they could have already lost. Whether he succeeded or not might not even matter.

  Dillon stopped his fingers from drumming on the desk, and slid one finger across the terminal. It began replaying the last few seconds of data before the link had been lost. Bonaventure had reported that Borealis had been seen entering the jumpgate. The flagships MacDonald and Washington were heard communicating with the arriving Palani flagship Kaha Devada, and trying to co-ordinate the battle. But the Palani had responded curtly, advising the humans to stay clear of them while they engaged the centre of the Horlan formation. Just before three Palani frigates had opened fire on the jumpgate, Dillon could see the Palani come under withering fire from the Horlan. One of their big dreadnoughts was disabled within seconds by concentrated fire. Farther away, the remnants of the human fleet backed away, trying to organise a rally.

  Then, with the image of weapon fire from the Palani frigates, the link had gone dead. The jumpgate destroyed, all communication severed to the Milky Way and everyone in it.

  Now their task depended on the relay. It had survived the destruction of the jumpgate, and was their link to the other human ships in Daltanin space.

  Time to introduce himself, he thought. He tapped at the console a few times, to request a channel to all other ships available through the relay. Messages popped up on his screen, as the system attempted to establish communications with the three science ships. One channel opened within moments.

  With a low whine that quickly rose through the octaves, the holoprojector on his desk spun to life. An American ship's crest appeared for a moment, replaced by the head and shoulders of a naval officer. "USS Sagan here. Lieutenant Commander Kramer, commanding."

  Dillon gave a brief nod, realising that he hadn't checked his appearance in the mirror. First impressions and all that, he thought, but he was too tired to care. "HMCS Borealis, Commander Dillon speaking. Good to meet you, Kramer. How are things?"

  The holographic Kramer had a wide, beaming smile. "Good to meet you too, Dillon. I guess I should be the one asking you. How're we doing back home?"

  Dillon shook his head. "Not great. There are a hell of a pile of Horlan ships. When we left, the fleet had taken huge losses, but the Palani had just arrived to back us up."

  Kramer's eyes went wide. "No shit? The Palani?"

  "Yeah, the very same."

  "Well, goddamn. That's the first decent news in a while. I bet they'll make a difference."

  "When we lost the link, it was still very much up in the air."

  Kramer wrinkled his nose. "Nah. A game can change in a moment. One little thing can turn it around." He nodded as if to reassure Dillon — or to convince himself. "So, you're our ticket home?"

  "We are. How many are aboard, and where are you?"

  Kramer leaned forward, his hand touching something out of Dillon's view. "Transmitting our location now. Including me, there's seventeen crew and thirty-nine scientists." Kramer laughed at that. "A few of them are real characters, I tell you."

  "Oh?"

  "Yup. We've been out here surveying the Daltanin tech centres. They found a big mainframe, and were going to download the whole thing. We're talking a lot of data here, Captain. It was going to take weeks. We were going to abandon it and get home, but when they found out the Borealis was coming to give a lift, they got all excited. I almost had a damned mutiny until I agreed to stay and let them finish."

  "So, a bit stubborn, then."

  "You could say that. We were about to —"

  With a chirp, the holographic image of Kramer shrank in size, and moved to the size of the display. A second head appeared: the captain of the Indian research vessel. She looked furious about something: her brow was tightly pinched, and her nose was upturned. "INS Nirupak reporting," she declared.

  "Commander Dillon, HMCS Borealis. Greetings to Nirupak."

  The holographic Kramer waved a finger. "Hey Bapodra, good afternoon."

  Captain Bapodra gave the merest nod in acknowledgement. "Captain Dillon. I have been advised that you will be rendezvousing with us, and escorting us home. Is this correct?"

  "It is," said Dillon. He chose not to notice the smirk and the raised eyebrows of the American officer.

  "Very well," said Bapodra. "We are transmitting our co-ordinates now."

  "Excellent, thank you Captain. How many of you are--"

  "Thirty are aboard, including crew and science teams. When can we expect you, Borealis?"

  Captain Bapodra's dark eyes were staring at Dillon through the holoprojector, though the lines in her forehead had softened. On the other half of the image, Captain Kramer appeared to be talking to someone out of the camera's field of view.

  Dillon poked at the terminal, looking at the provided co-ordinates and doing some quick math in his head. "You're the farthest away, so we'll pick you up last. Assuming everything goes well with Sagan and Banting, four or five days should get us to you."

  "Five days," she repeated. "When you arrive, would you be able to make your engineering expertise available?"

  "Of course."

  The scowl faded, replaced by a flash of a smile. "Then Nirupak looks forward to meeting Borealis. Thank you, Captain Dillon. I appreciate your time. Bapodra out."

  "Dillon out--" he began, but the channel was already closed. Captain Kramer's image grew in size again, until it took up the entire display. He smiled at Dillon. "Isn't she fun?"

  "
Well--"

  Kramer laughed. "She's not exactly congenial, but she's very good at her job. Very, very professional. And wait until you see her ship, the Nirupak."

  "Oh?"

  "You could eat off of any surface in that ship. Magnificent old thing. I think they add extra brass hardware just so they'll have more to polish."

  Dillon picked up his mug and took a sip. "Any idea what her engineering issue is?"

  "Nope. First I've heard of it. She never mentioned it to me."

  "Huh. So…" Dillon glanced at the time on the display. "I'm told the Banting should be here. Wonder why they haven't joined the channel."

  "Banting's Tunnel cells crapped out a couple days ago. Last communications from her, we got these co-ordinates." Kramer pushed something on an unseen terminal, and more data appeared on Dillon's console.

  "Got it, thanks."

  "No problem. So Banting is probably near there somewhere. Captain of the Banting is a Lieutenant Commander Stewart. Smart woman. They've been out here for months; she helped us out a bit when we first arrived in Daltanin space."

  "Okay. If we don't hear from them, we'll start looking for them starting at the last known position. I think we'll come get Sagan first, then we can go search for Banting. Have you seen anything in your time out here?"

  Kramer shook his head. "No." He made a sideways gesture with his hand. "Nada. Look, Dillon, I gotta tell you something. Daltanin space is dead. No ships, no civilisations, nothing. Finding an untouched world with some living goo on it is a cause for celebration. It's empty. Gets to people after a while."

  "Yeah. I remember parts of it." He met Kramer's gaze. "I'd prefer if Sagan stayed put, so I don't have to go looking for you. We'll be there soon."

  Captain Kramer nodded. "No problem. We won't move without letting you know. Though I expect our science friends will keep us here anyway."

  "Okay. Thank you for your time, Kramer. We'll talk again soon. Borealis out."

  "Roger that. Sagan out."

  CHAPTER 27

  It had been two days since Borealis came through the jumpgate into Daltanin space. Dillon had spoken again to the captains of the Sagan and Nirupak, just to keep in touch and on top of things.

  His morning had been properly fortified with two cups of coffee, and Dillon rubbed his hands together as he walked along the passageway. Stepping through the bulkhead hatch, he turned to his right and into the med bay.

  Chief Black was sitting up on one of the examination beds, her feet hanging over the side. Satchkov, her ever-present shadow, stood at the side of the room. Singh was examining the Chief's eyes.

  When he saw Singh taking a close look at the Chief's empty right eye, Dillon came to a stop. He averted his eyes, making a point of examining everything else in the med bay. Nothing made him squeamish the way eyes did. He saw Satchkov was doing much the same, pretending to take an active interest in the deck.

  "Captain," said Singh. "Thank you for coming by. Please forgive the Chief for not speaking; I've told her not to move her head."

  Dillon raised an eyebrow. "You can make the Chief quiet? Amazing." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Satchkov, not looking up, grinning down at his boots.

  Singh smiled, even as she leaned in closer to the Chief's face. She was holding some sort of instrument and peering through it; the blinking end of the instrument disappeared out of sight between the Chief's eyelids. Dillon's stomach lurched, and he turned away.

  "Well sir, there's a little stub of the optic nerve left, and I just need to connect this..."

  Singh became quiet as she worked, placing her free hand on the Chief's face to hold it steady. Dillon redoubled his efforts to not look.

  There was a tiny beep, and Singh leaned back. "There. Got it."

  With a chirp, the med bay door abruptly opened, causing Dillon to start. His sudden movement startled Singh who recoiled, pulling back from the Chief's face. "God damn it," blurted Singh, then stopped herself. "Sorry, sir."

  "Don't apologise to me," said Dillon, facing the door. "It's the Chief's head you were rummaging around in."

  Sap stood in the doorway, a tray in his hands. The tray was covered in a variety of small tools and bits of circuitry, all carefully arranged. "Did I come at a bad time?" he asked.

  Singh stepped back from the Chief, folding the instrument. "Just in time, Head Mechanician Vish."

  The Chief muttered through clenched teeth. "Can I fucking move now?"

  "Yes, Chief," said Singh. "You can speak, but please stay sitting there."

  Chief Black let out a loud sigh, rolling her head from side to side to stretch her neck. She turned in Dillon's direction. "Where are you, Captain? You there?"

  "I'm here, Chief. How're you doing?"

  "I can't see shit. But mostly, I'm paranoid. Singh and Sap are up to something, and I'm getting my hopes up."

  Sap excused himself as he passed in front of Dillon, setting his tray down on the bed next to the Chief. He gave Chief Black a toothy smile. "Now Chief, please understand this is merely a prototype. It is for testing."

  "Oh, good. I'm a guinea pig."

  "Yes, Chief Black, my guinea pig. But do not expect a miracle. Miracles are the purview of the chaplain. I deal primarily with machines."

  With two gloved hands, Sap picked up an item from the tray. It was the Chief's eyepatch; a small device was affixed to the middle of the patch, underneath the Borealis crest.

  "What're you doing?" asked the Chief.

  "You called this your 'Anne Bonny' costume, Chief Black."

  "Oh, the eyepatch? I wasn't going to bother wearing it."

  Sap reached up and gently put the patch on the Chief's face, fastening the strap behind her head. "Captain, if you would stand with me? Chief Black, please hold on to the Captain and I. This may be disorienting. Assuming it doesn't catch fire and explode, of course."

  "What?" laughed the Chief. Dillon could hear the catch in her voice, the nervousness mixed with hope. She lifted her arms out in front of her, hands grasping at the air until she found Sap and Dillon. She grabbed on to each of their arms with a powerful grip.

  "Are you ready, Chief Black?"

  "Yes yes yes," she nodded.

  Sap reached up and poked at the top of the device on the eyepatch. After a moment it chirped, and a tiny red light appeared in the middle of the device.

  The Chief frowned. "It's not working. Nothing's happening. Why doesn't it— oh, fuck. Oh my god." She let go of Dillon's arm, flailing her hand in the air until she caught his arm again. "Oh god. I'm gonna throw up."

  "Please don't do that, Chief Black," said Sap. He pulled a datapad out of his pocket and began to run his fingers over the screen. "How about now?"

  "I don't know, Sap… wait… okay, that's better." She stared at Sap for a moment, then turned toward Dillon. The tiny red light was pointed right at him. "Huh. I never thought I'd be happy to see your ugly faces."

  Sap looked back down at his datapad. "I'll have you know, Chief Black, I am considered quite attractive among my people." He made a few more taps at the screen.

  The Chief yelped. "What the fuck? This thing has a heads-up display? I see a clock, and a compass… I have eighteen messages waiting for me?"

  Sap held out the datapad to her. "You can configure it with any datapad. Keep this one. Also, remember that it's only a—"

  The Chief threw herself forward from the bed, her arms wide, sweeping Dillon and Sap up in a hug. She laughed loudly as she held them, her head between theirs. "You two magnificent bastards," she choked. "Dillon, thank you for keeping me. Sap, thank you for this."

  Dillon was about to say something, when he felt the Chief's head shift on his shoulder. "Singh," she said, her voice carrying a threat. "Satchkov."

  Behind him, Dillon could hear Singh's feet shift, as she cleared her throat. "Chief of the Ship, at no time did I see anyone being emotional. No ma'am."

  Satchkov shook his head. "Didn't see a thing, Chief."

  "Good," said Black,
letting go of Dillon and Sap. "They learn quick." She turned toward Dillon, and pointed one hand at Satchkov. "Please don't reassign him, sir. I like having a manservant."

  "Okay, but you have to promise to look after him." Dillon turned to Sap, patting him on the shoulder. "That was a very good thing to do, Sap. Thank you."

  "I am pleased to assist. The Chief is not just a vital part of this ship, she is also my friend."

  Chief Black swatted Sap on the shoulder. "Stop that. Not in front of the captain and crew."

  "Mostly," said Sap, a wide toothy grin appearing on his face, "I am amazed that it worked the first time. I was certain it would make her head explode in some amusing fashion."

  The Chief frowned. "Now you're going to use it to mess with me, aren't you?"

  Sap shook his head. "I will mess with you, Chief Black, but not using that device. It is, as you say, legit."

  She cradled the datapad in her hands. Her voice was quieter than usual. "Thank you, Sap. I mean it." She raised her head up again, peering over Dillon's shoulder. "Satchkov? Singh? Don't you have work to do?"

  Dillon looked around at the people in the room. "They do," he said. "We all do. There's a lot of work yet to be done. Let's get started."