The Rise of Earth (28 page)

“Keep going!” Diocletia ordered as Yana turned to see what had happened.

Tycho pulled a flash grenade from his belt and twisted its cap to arm it. He counted one, one thousand, two, one thousand, and then tossed it to bounce into the portside
corridor, knowing Carlo was doing the same with the starboard corridor.

Diocletia skidded to a halt in the corridor, blasts from her carbine lighting up the passageway. Tycho was a step behind his brother. One Earth crewer was lying motionless on his back; two others were on their knees, arms raised in surrender.

“Zip ties,” Tycho barked at the Comets, keeping his carbine on the crewers. Ahead, Yana and Dobbs were hurrying back the way they'd come.

“They've sealed the bridge,” Dobbs said. “We'll need charges. Celly, get up here.”

Celly bared her pointy, black ceramic teeth behind the visor of her helmet.

“Quarter of a kilo ought to do it—don't want to make too big a hole,” she said, chuckling as she extracted a lump of gray explosive from a pouch on her belt.

“Porco, cover her,” Dobbs said, standing aside as the two Comets hurried forward. “Won't take but a minute, Captain.”

The lights dimmed and a moment later the Comets' feet rose from the deck as the artificial gravity cut out. Tycho activated the magnets in his boots and gloves and adhered himself to the wall. With their hands tied, the luckless Earth crewers had no such option—they floated up to the ceiling and were stuck there. Two of the Comets grabbed the captives' wrists, dragging them back down the passageway like big blue balloons.

“Cutting the gravity helps us more than them,” Yana said with a wolfish grin.

She removed her helmet and sent it spinning down the passageway with a casual toss, then started to shed her spacesuit. Her hair floated around her head like a cloud.

“Is that a good idea?” Carlo asked.

“Can't move in that thing,” Yana said, adjusting her headset. “Don't worry, I know what I'm doing.”

Diocletia turned to Dobbs, only to see the master-at-arms also shedding his suit.

“Your daughter's the best student I've ever had, Captain,” he said.

Diocletia frowned, then nodded. “All right then.”

“Engine room's secured,” Huff growled in their ears. “No damage. We're bringing the engines online now.”

“We'll be on the bridge in another minute,” Diocletia said.

“Another minute? We ain't gettin' paid by the hour, Dio.”

Diocletia ignored that—Celly and Porco were retreating back down the passageway by hurling themselves from one wall to the next.

“Ten seconds,” Celly said with a feral grin. “I'd take cover.”

The Comets ducked to either side of the intersection, spreading their hands and feet to stick themselves to the wall. A thunderclap of sound filled their ears and a shock
wave of air shoved at them before dissipating.

“Go!” Dobbs said.

Tycho clawed his way into the passageway in time to see Yana launch herself down the corridor with Dobbs behind her. She alighted for a split second on the wall, then sprang down the passageway, seeming to pick up speed as she went.

“Come on!” Diocletia yelled.

Yana reached the ladderwell feetfirst, hooking it with her boots. That left her floating on her back, firing her carbine straight up to clear the hatchway. As the blaster's recoil pushed her upper body toward the deck, she used the momentum to roll herself into a ball, touching down on the deck with her knees bent. She threw a flash grenade above her underhanded, then sprang after it, arms raised, as light filled the passageway. Dobbs rushed after her, hands and feet kicking at the rungs of the ladderwell.

Tycho reached the ladderwell a step ahead of his mother and scrambled upward, trying to keep his feet beneath him. He emerged on the
Leviathan
's broad bridge to find his sister floating serenely in midair, a carbine aimed in either direction. One Earth crewer was dead, while three others had their hands up. Through the dromond's broad viewports Tycho saw a wall of rock crisscrossed by the lines of gantries and observation decks.

“Bridge secured,” Yana said with a smile.

“I'll get the gravity restored,” Diocletia said as Dobbs
and the other Comets fastened zip ties around the wrists of the bridge crew. “Carlo, get us flying. Yana, sensors up. Tycho, make contact with Captain Andrade and your father.”

Carlo was already strapping himself into the pilot's chair. Tycho overshot the navigator's station and had to struggle back to it by hauling himself along the tops of the other consoles. Yana kicked neatly over to the bulkhead behind the sensor officer's station, executing a forward roll that ended with her behind planted in the chair.

She grinned at Tycho.

“Nobody likes a show-off, sis,” he grumbled as he strapped himself in.

“Gravity's coming up in five,” Diocletia warned, and the Comets tugged the captive Earth crewers down to the deck so they wouldn't plummet out of the air. Tycho sagged in his seat as gravity once more pushed him down.

“They've locked out the piloting station,” Carlo said.

“Really?” Diocletia glared at the three captured crewers through the bowl of her helmet. “Which of you is ranking officer?”

A distinguished-looking man with gray hair stepped forward. “Tyrus Sanford, of the
Loire
.”

“Captain Diocletia Hashoone, of the
Shadow Comet
. I'd appreciate it if you'd help us get up and running, Mr. Sanford.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that, Captain. I have my orders to secure this ship at all costs.”

“I see,” Diocletia said, drumming her fingers on her
console. “Mr. Dobbs, please get your spacesuit and my daughter's.”

“Will do, Captain,” Dobbs said, clanking off across the deck.

“Captain Andrade is reporting Earth ships are inbound,” Tycho said. “Twenty-five thousand klicks and closing.”

“Understood,” Diocletia said, turning her attention back to Sanford. “I'd very much like to avoid any further loss of life, Mr. Sanford.”

“As I said, Captain, I have my orders.”

Dobbs reappeared on the ladderwell, two spacesuits slung over his shoulder and helmets dangling from a loop on his belt.

“Thank you, Mr. Dobbs,” Diocletia said. “Dad? Make sure all your crewers are suited up. I'm going to open the
Leviathan
to space.”

Sanford turned pale. “You wouldn't.”

“Tycho, check your sister's seals. Carlo, do the same for Mr. Dobbs.”

“Aye-aye,” Tycho said, unstrapping himself and waiting next to Yana's station as she zipped up her suit.

“Captain, I must protest this barbarism!” Sanford stammered.

Diocletia ignored him.

Yana rotated her helmet in the groove of her suit's collar, locking the two together, then cinched her gloves closed.

“Your seals are green,” Tycho said.

“Green over here,” Carlo said.

“Stand by to evacuate the atmosphere,” Diocletia said.

“Wait!” Sanford said. “I'll unlock the controls!”

Diocletia nodded to Dobbs, who cut the zip ties on Sanford's wrists and marched him over to Carlo's station. The Earth crewer began hurriedly typing out commands.

“I am called Pathfinder,” said the deep, calm male voice of the
Leviathan
's AI. “How may I assist?”

“By giving me the sticks,” Carlo said.

“Acknowledged,” Pathfinder said.

“Earth ships are closing,” Tycho said. “Twenty thousand klicks.”

“Take these men below, Mr. Dobbs,” Diocletia said. “Mavry, cast off. We'll be right behind you.”

Carlo yanked his helmet and gloves off as the
Leviathan
's control yoke rose from beneath his station. He gripped it and exhaled, peering at the view from the rear cameras half a kilometer behind him.

“We're detached and heading out,” Mavry said over the comm.

The
Leviathan
's bells clanged out eight times—it was midnight.

“Here goes nothing,” Carlo muttered.

The deck shuddered beneath their feet, but nothing else seemed to happen. Tycho looked questioningly at his brother. But then he realized the dromond was moving slowly but steadily backward.

“This is like pushing a boulder with your nose,” Carlo
said through gritted teeth, sweat running down his forehead, and Tycho thought with a scowl that he felt that way when he was flying the
Comet
—a nimble ship barely a tenth the length of the dromond.

“We're clear of the asteroid,
Leviathan
,” Mavry said in their ears. “But company's coming.”

Carlo's eyes jumped between the viewports and his monitors.

“Gotta cut to starboard,” he said to himself, pushing at the control yoke. “Come on, baby,
move
.”

The rock wall ahead of them was more distant now, with a lattice of struts and girders stretching from the end of the hollow asteroid past their vantage point.

“Little more to port, I think,” Diocletia said.

“I know!”

“Proximity alert,” Pathfinder said.

Carlo shoved at the control yoke and the
Leviathan
shivered, a vibration passing through the hull.

“Ugh, too far,” Carlo muttered.

“Impact,” Pathfinder said, sounding disappointed. “Assessing damage.”

“You just scraped her fenders, kid—that's what they're for,” Mavry said reassuringly. “Keep coming!”

Tycho and Yana looked at each other anxiously.

“I've got it now,” Carlo said. “She takes a long time to respond is all—makes it hard not to overcompensate. Let me line her up. Almost, almost . . .
there
. Okay, hang on!”

The
Leviathan
gained speed, the rock wall retreating rapidly in front of them. Tycho imagined he could feel
the enormous weight of the huge ship now—her mass and her growing momentum.

The lattice inside 124996 became a blur on either side of them. Then they saw the entrance to the hidden hangar and the black expanse of space—the
Leviathan
had emerged from the asteroid. Carlo gasped, his head dipping forward momentarily, and Yana gave a cheer.

“Silence on the bridge,” Diocletia said.

Carlo flipped switches and shoved the
Leviathan
's control yoke hard to the right, sending the massive dromond's bow swinging to starboard.

“I have three Earth ships and several pinnaces at five thousand klicks—and six Jovian craft between us and them, in defensive formation,” Yana said.

“That will be our friend Captain Allamand, I expect,” Diocletia said.

“Patching the Jovian ships through to a shared channel,” Tycho said. “And plotting a course back to Cybele.”

“Pathfinder, display colors,” Diocletia said with a smile. “Jovian, if you please.”

Cheers erupted over the shared channel as the
Nestor Leviathan
began broadcasting her reclaimed identity.

“Nice flying, son,” Mavry said, and even Tycho had to smile at the relief on Carlo's face. Then an alert on his console chased his joy away.

“It's the
Gracieux
—she's hailing all craft,” he said.

“Captain Hashoone, I presume?” said Allamand. “It seems I must congratulate you on an elegant rescue—as well as a remarkable display of piloting. Let me assure
you that the prize is yours, with no need for further hostilities. Your crewers will find the cargo untouched—our intention was to restore the
Leviathan
to her proper owners once the current regrettable situation was behind us. Which it soon will be, I'm pleased to report.”

“What do you mean?” Captain Andrade demanded. “I don't know of any parley.”

“Things are happening back on Cybele,” Allamand said. “I'm informed that our envoys are negotiating steps to defuse this current confrontation. Captain Hashoone, may I ask after my prize crew?”

“We have five fatalities,” Diocletia said. “I'm sorry for it. The remaining crewers will be freed at Cybele, of course.”

“Thank you. One more bit of business, if you'll allow me. Might I address Master Tycho Hashoone?”

Tycho looked up in mingled surprise and dread, conscious of his siblings' eyes on him. Diocletia frowned, but nodded at Tycho, who hurriedly searched for the setting that would broadcast his voice across the open channels.

“I'm here, Captain,” he said, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice.

“My AI informs me you've been a guest aboard my ship, Master Hashoone—along with your mediapad. Which explains why we are meeting at this particular location.”

Tycho tried to force his vocal cords to work. “That's correct.”

It was very hard not to call the man on the other side of the transmission “sir.”

“My daughter . . . ,” Allamand began, then paused. “My daughter is innocent in ways you and I can no longer claim to be. You have conducted yourself rather badly, Master Hashoone. All victories have a cost, but I suspect you will come to regret the price you've paid for this one.”

I already do
, Tycho thought, staring at his hands in his lap.

“That will do, Captain Allamand,” Diocletia said.

“All in all, captains, it's been an honor to match wits with you,” Allamand said. “I believe we've put on a splendid show—one I hope has satisfied our leaders back home, so that cooler heads may now prevail.”

“They're moving off,” Yana said. “Heading back toward Cybele.”

“Time for us to do the same, then,” Diocletia said. She freed her black hair from its ponytail, shaking it out, and closed her eyes for a moment.

The bridge was silent as the
Leviathan
churned steadily toward distant Cybele. Then Diocletia spoke again.

“Tycho, duty compels us to take actions we'd rather avoid. Things done for family, for country, or for both. And often that duty comes with regret.”