“We’ll stay well away,” De Molay said, settling back into her cocoon. “Any others left behind?”
“ Hai, kyo. Three others-same general class-at the corners of the box.”
“Sentries, then.” On the plot, the last of the Khaid heavies had disappeared behind the seemingly invisible veil of the Barrier. She nodded to herself, making some mental calculation. “Very good.”
The boy looked at her expectantly for a moment, but De Molay closed her eyes again.
“Ah, Sencho-sana?” His voice was tight, hinting at an internal conflict between well-ingrained Fleet duty and the plain fact that the old woman was not a Fleet officer.
“Yes, Thai-i,” De Molay responded. “You can get something to eat.”
“Thank you, kyo!” He was up and out of his seat and through the hatchway before she could open both eyes. When she had sat up fully, he was long gone. De Molay laughed softly to herself, then keyed into her console and-after negotiating several authorization screens-brought up the t-relay interface. Then she sat for a moment, considering the plot and tapping her fingers slowly on the edge of the console.
Not that much time to dither, the old woman thought. The boy will be back soon, and I’ve no surety the Khaid will not return swiftly, or that reinforcements have not been summoned. The iron is hot, so we must strike. She wondered if Hadeishi and his reclaimed cruiser were still busy recovering the crew of the super-dreadnaught, but her window of opportunity was terribly short. The Order masters would say to act in the moment of balance, De Molay remembered from an old book she’d been forced to read in the collegium.
She shook her head and keyed open a comm channel. The message had been composed in her mind for at least a day, but she had needed the bridge to herself before risking a transmission.
Peregine, Pervicax transmito. Cohortes imperatoris deletae sunt. Khai sepulchrum intraverunt. Quinque custodes Khaianes consisti sunt, whispered out into the aether.
De Molay felt a mingled sense of relief and wary anticipation. There had been a dozen times in the last week that she’d expected to be incinerated, or captured, or simply vanish in the blossoming flare of an antimatter detonation. But-somehow-she had won through, and now her entire purpose had been discharged with a single message. One which will likely go The console chimed softly, indicating an incoming message spooling through the relay. She stiffened, startled to receive such a quick reply.
The message read: Venimus. Signa transitu pone pro insertio directio teleportano. Evigila.
Ready we shall be, then. By the Lord, they must be close by.
Her attention shifted to the plot. All four Khaid destroyers on sentry duty remained in their watchful pattern. No missile launches were detected by the forest of sensors extruded from the hull of the Wilful, no movement towards her on their part. De Molay settled back, wincing a little at the enduring pain in her face, her side, and her leg. I am far too old for this, she grumbled mentally.
Which, said a voice much like her own-damnable conscience!- is why you’d retired. Why exactly did you volunteer for this excursion?
Patzanil clattered onto the bridge, a large bowl tucked under one arm. The smell washed over her like the tidal return from Port Valletta on a long, hot summer day.
“Is it meatlog?” she asked politely.
The Thai-i gave her a devil-may-care smile. “I don’t know, but if the Khaid can eat it, I can, too.”
De Molay suppressed a laugh. “Back to sleep for me, then. Nothing new on the plot.”
Kosho felt her stomach quail and the lighting in Command pulsed twice as the battle-cruiser dropped gradient into realspace. Brisk, well-practiced chatter flowed across the bridge stations as the officers of the watch confirmed they had made transit properly, that ship’s systems were on-line and they had a solid navigational fix. The threatwell began to refresh as the remote watching the Pinhole unspooled the last eight hours of captured data. Oc Chac was working his checklist in a low fast voice, ensuring they still had maneuvering drives, nothing had lost pressure or vented during the transition, and all compartments were secure for combat.
Only Pucatli was frowning, and the tense line of his head drew Susan’s eye like a magnet from her consideration of the survey plot. “Comms?”
Puzzlement clouded the Chu-i ’s face. “ Chu-sa, there’s a recorded transmission on one-hundred-ten you need to hear.”
Kosho tapped her earbug, cycling channel. Immediately, she heard: All Imperial evac capsules, converge on this signal…
“An Imperial broadcast! Someone’s alive? How could…”
We have captured a Khaid vessel and come to take you home. Converge upon this signal with all haste. The familiar voice spoke quickly, concisely. It hummed with adrenaline; its familiar tone was inextricably connected in her mind, in her body, to imminent violence and battle. Susan’s gaze tracked back to the threatwell-but there was nothing to be seen. The gravity-plot around the Pinhole remained quiescent.
“Mitsuharu?” she said aloud, without meaning to. Oc Chac-who had switched his own earbug to listen in-caught her eye, his head canted in a questioning pose.
Kosho replied to the unspoken question. “The Khaiden are not alone outside the Pinhole. That is the voice of a Fleet officer well known to me-it seems he is gathering up the fallen. But…” She paused, rewinding the message. “He can only have one ship under his command, and one taken from the enemy at that.” Despite herself, she started to grin in delight.
Oc Chac shook his head in astonishment. “A tremendous feat, if true. But, Chu-sa, this could easily be a trick-a stratagem of the Khaid to lure us into a trap!”
“It could.” Kosho straightened her shoulders, trying to quell a fierce and unexpected joy blooming in her heart. “But this officer was recently forced to the beach and the Fates would truly be against us if the Khaid intelligence services were so far-thinking as to capture his voice patterns for use against me. No, fantastic as it sounds I believe that Chu-sa Mitsuharu Hadeishi is-somehow!-beyond the Barrier, that he has captured a Khaid ship, and is using that same vessel to recover our lost evac capsules.”
The Mayan’s expression became dour. “Sounds brave as the deeds of Hunahpu and Xbalanque in the heroic stories of my people, but doomed, surely. There is a full Khaid fleet at the other end of the Pinhole, Kyo. And against them, one ship will not last long at all…”
Susan laughed out loud. “Your twin heroes were fashioned from mortals who excelled at contests to the death, Sho-sa. In this living world, there is no ship commander more likely to achieve the impossible than the man whose voice we’ve just heard.”
Then her expression darkened, lips drawing tight. “But more likely, the Khaid fleet is no longer waiting outside the Barrier. No-they have likely found a way through as well, and will soon be upon us. Then we will be the lone lion amongst the wolf pack.”
Kosho turned to the pilot. “ Sho-i Holloway, bring us about and prep the coil to punch gradient. We need room to maneuver. Weapons, prep your launchers!”
A groan escaped Hummingbird’s lips as consciousness returned in fits and starts. He opened his eyes, finding nothing but darkness. He tested the movement of his arms and legs, and found they were tightly bound. Shifting his head from side to side, the old Nahuatl determined that something-a rubbery plastic-had been stretched over his eyes. He was not gagged, which indicated to the nauallis that there was no one within shouting distance. In any case, he did not like to make noise when he could not see who might be listening.
On my own, am I? Hummingbird shifted his shoulders, feeling walls on either side. A closet perhaps? But they were in a hurry-I am still wearing my skinsuit.