I had a lot of time to watch all this. I was just a tar. I was fifteen years old.
My duties at that moment were non-specific. I was supposed to stand by, and render assistance any way that was required, most likely with basic medical attention should we go into combat. Right now the only one of us tars actually working was Halle, who was chasing down a pool of vomit sicked up by Pael, the Academician, the only non-Navy personnel on the bridge.
The action on the Brightly wasn’t like you see in Virtual shows. The atmosphere was calm, quiet, competent. All you could hear was the murmur of voices, from the crew and the equipment, and the hiss of recycling air. No drama: it was like an operating theatre.
There was a soft warning chime.
The Captain raised an arm and called over Academician Pael, First Officer Till, and Jeru, the Commissary assigned to the ship. They huddled close, conferring – apparently arguing. I saw the way flickering nova light reflected from Jeru’s shaven head.
I felt my heart beat harder.
Everybody knew what the chime meant: that we were approaching the fortress cordon. Either we would break off, or we would chase the Ghost cruiser inside its invisible fortress. And everybody knew that no Navy ship that had ever penetrated a Ghost fortress cordon, ten light-minutes from the central star, and come back out again.
One way or the other, it would all be resolved soon.
Captain Teid cut short the debate. She leaned forward and addressed the crew. Her voice, cast through the ship, was friendly, like a cadre leader whispering in your ear. ‘You can all see we can’t catch that swarm of Ghosts this side of the cordon. And you all know the hazard of crossing a cordon. But if we’re ever going to break this blockade of theirs we have to find a way to bust open those forts. So we’re going in anyhow. Stand by your stations.’
There was a half-hearted cheer.
I caught Halle’s eye. She grinned at me. She pointed at the Captain, closed her fist and made a pumping movement. I admired her sentiment but she wasn’t being too accurate, anatomically speaking, so I raised my middle finger and jiggled it back and forth.
It took a slap on the back of the head from Jeru, the Commissary, to put a stop to that. ‘Little morons,’ she growled.
‘Sorry, sir—’
I got another slap for the apology. Jeru was a tall, stocky woman, dressed in the bland monastic robes said to date from the time of the founding of the Commission for Historical Truth a thousand years ago. But rumour was she’d seen plenty of combat action of her own before joining the Commission, and such was her physical strength and speed of reflex I could well believe it.
As we neared the cordon the Academician, Pael, started a gloomy countdown. The slow geometry of Ghost cruiser and tinsel-wrapped fortress star swivelled across the crowded sky. Everybody went quiet.
The darkest time is always just before the action starts. Even if you can see and hear what is going on, all you do is think. What was going to happen to us when we crossed that intangible border? Would a fleet of Ghost ships materialise all around us? Would some mysterious weapon simply blast us out of the sky?
I caught the eye of First Officer Till. He was a veteran of twenty years; his scalp had been burned away in some ancient close-run combat, long before I was born, and he wore a crown of scar tissue with pride. ‘Let’s do it, tar,’ he growled.
All the fear went away. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of togetherness, of us all being in this crap together. I had no thought of dying. Just: let’s get through this. ‘Yes, sir!’
Pael finished his countdown.
All the lights went out. Detonating stars wheeled.
And the ship exploded.
I was thrown into darkness. Air howled. Emergency bulkheads scythed past me, and I could hear people scream.
I slammed into the curving hull, nose pressed against the stars.
I bounced off and drifted. The inertial suspension was out, then. I thought I could smell blood – probably my own.
I could see the Ghost ship, a tangle of rope and silver baubles, glinting with highlights from the fortress star. We were still closing. We were going to collide in minutes, no more.
But I could also see shards of shattered lifedome, a sputtering drive unit. The shards were bits of the Brightly. It had gone, all gone, in a fraction of a second.
‘Let’s do it,’ I murmured.
Maybe I was out of it for a while.
Somebody grabbed my ankle and tugged me down. There was a competent slap on my cheek, enough to make me focus.
‘Case. Can you hear me?’
It was First Officer Till. Even in the swimming starlight that burned-off scalp was unmistakable.
I glanced around. There were four of us here: Till, Commissary Jeru, Academician Pael, me. We were huddled up against what looked like the stump of the First Officer’s console. I realised that the gale of venting air had stopped. I was back inside a hull with integrity, then—
‘Case!’
‘I—yes, sir.’
‘Report.’
I touched my lip; my hand came away bloody. At a time like that it’s your duty to report your injuries, honestly and fully. Nobody needs a hero who turns out not to be able to function. ‘I think I’m all right. I may have concussion.’
‘Good enough. Strap down.’ Till handed me a length of rope.
I saw that the others had tied themselves to struts. I did the same.
Till, with practised ease, swam away into the air, I guessed looking for other survivors.
Academician Pael was trying to curl into a ball. He couldn’t even speak. The tears just rolled out of his eyes. I stared at the way big globules welled up and drifted away into the air, glimmering. The action had been over in seconds. That was war in space for you, journeys that can last years, combat that’s over in heartbeats, and your story is done. All a bit sudden for an earthworm, I guess.
Nearby, I saw, trapped under one of the emergency bulkheads, there was a pair of legs – just that. The rest of the body must have been chopped away, gone drifting off with the rest of the debris from Brightly. But I recognised those legs, from a garish pink stripe on the sole of the right boot. That had been Halle. She was the only girl I had ever screwed – and more than likely, given the situation, the only girl I ever would get to screw. I couldn’t figure out how I felt about that.
Jeru was watching Pael, and me. ‘Tar – do you think we should all be frightened for ourselves, like the Academician?’ Her accent was strong, unidentifiable.
‘No, sir.’
‘No.’ Jeru studied Pael with contempt. ‘We are in an escape yacht, Academician. A bit of the lifedome, carved out by the emergency bulkheads when the Brightly was attacked.’ She sniffed. ‘We have air, and it isn’t foul yet. But we’re still closing on that Ghost cruiser.’
I’d managed to forget where we were going, and how little time we had. Fear pricked.
Jeru winked at me. ‘Maybe we can do a little damage to the Ghosts before we die, tar. What do you think?’
I grinned. ‘Yes, sir.’
Pael lifted his head and stared at me with salt water eyes. ‘Lethe. You people are monsters.’ His accent was gentle, a lilt. ‘Even a child such as this. You embrace death—’
Jeru grabbed Pael’s jaw in a massive hand, and pinched the joints until he squealed. ‘Captain Teid grabbed you, Academician; she threw you here, to safety, before the bulkhead came down. I saw it. If she hadn’t taken the time to do that, she would have made it herself. Was she a monster? Did she embrace death?’ And she pushed Pael’s face away.