Randoms

  And that was what was going to save me.

  “You’re grinning,” Tamret said.

  “Yes, I am.”

  I cut the line on my data bracelet and opened a channel to the Dependable via the shuttle’s comm system. “Captain, you need to get that ship to the Confederation, but I think I have a way we can do that without you leaving us behind. Tunnel out now, but don’t go far. Make them think you are heading for home. Then turn around and come back here in exactly four minutes. Return to exactly the same place where you depart, so I’ll know where to find you. By the time you pop back in, they will have gone after you in the hopes of overtaking you when you come out near the station.”

  “You think they’ll attack us in Confederation space?” the captain asked.

  “All they’re going to care about at that point is making sure the Confederation doesn’t get its hands on a fully functioning cruiser. They won’t be worrying about surviving or ramifications.”

  “That could work,” the captain said. “Executing now. Good luck, Zeke.”

  I looked back at the passengers.

  “It is a good plan,” my father said, speaking very slowly, “but I wonder if you’ve considered regulation 46-A.”

  That was my father, the man I remembered, the man I had come to rescue. Whatever anger I’d felt toward him for leaving us had now vanished. He had just watched me make what he believed to be a colossal blunder, but even though he was sure I’d just placed all our lives in jeopardy, he wasn’t willing to embarrass me in front of the rest of the committee and my friends. He was more worried about my feelings than his own life, and I knew, at that moment, that whatever he had done he had done for the right reasons, and that his decisions had cost him more than I could easily imagine.

  Regulation 46A, like his proposed name for the stolen ship, came from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, his favorite science-fiction film of all time. The regulation was little more than a plot device to trick both Kirk’s enemies, and the audience, into thinking the Enterprise was more seriously damaged than it actually was. Now, in command of this stolen vessel, the only audience I needed to deceive was the enemy.

  I turned to my father and quoted, which was no problem since we had watched that movie together like a dozen times, “‘If transmissions are being monitored during battle, no uncoded messages on an open channel.’ Dad, not only did I not forget regulation 46-A, I’m counting on it. Our lives, at this point, depend on a scheme I’m stealing from Star Trek Two.”

  “If you are going to put us in a Trek movie’s hands, it might as well be Two,” he said. “Or Four. Have you considered a slingshot around the sun to take us back in time?”

  We both laughed a little hysterically, and then I activated my data bracelet. It was time to tell the captain the real plan.

  • • •

  We broke atmosphere and settled into orbit. I knew what, I hoped, the Phands did not—that the Dependable was not going be returning in four minutes. That meant we were going to have to spend several minutes convincing the enemy not to destroy us. It was going to be dicey, particularly since the cruiser’s weapons could easily tear us to shreds.

  The limited range of the shuttle’s sensors didn’t pick up anything. I looked at my data bracelet. Three minutes since last communication. If all went according to plan, the Dependable should be back within another six minutes. If we were lucky. This was going to be tight. Quietly, so our passengers wouldn’t hear my plan—and know how much of a gamble it was—I explained to Tamret what I was really up to. Tamret could find about a hundred things wrong with me when I was eating breakfast, but now she simply listened and nodded as though my scheme were the most reasonable thing in the world.

  “Sounds good,” she pronounced when I finished.

  “It’s insane,” I whispered.

  She shrugged. “It’s pretty solid given the circumstances.”

  I checked my sensor readings again and saw nothing, but then, a few seconds later, I picked up a radiation spike. An instant after that it seemed as though a scalpel had slashed a line across the starscape. A wound opened in regular space and a massive Phandic cruiser came out of its tunnel. From looking at it I couldn’t tell if it was the Dependable or the enemy ship, but I assumed the latter. Once they sent the text-only message Surrender or be destroyed, I was even more certain.

  Tamret broke orbit and began to accelerate, heading away from the planet. The cruiser pursued, slowly overtaking us, but it had not fired weapons thus far. I could tell because we hadn’t exploded in a fiery ball.

  The cruiser signaled again, this time with a video communication. I put it on the shuttle’s screen. If we were talking, it seemed to me, we weren’t exploding, so I was in favor of talking. I was ready to negotiate. I was ready to do anything I had to in order to buy more time for Tamret and my father. I was not ready for the face that appeared on that screen.

  “Zeke,” Ms. Price said. She stood with her arms folded, the blood-red fingernails of her right hand tapping against her arm. She wore a humorless business suit, and she looked ready for some corporate action. “I picked up on your little trick, and we’re ready for Qwlessl when she emerges from her tunnel. Her ship can take a few hits before it is destroyed. Yours can’t. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you get away.”

  Okay, I thought. This is something, isn’t it? Since leaving Earth I’d wondered what Ms. Price’s deal was. Considering she was issuing ultimatums from the bridge of an enemy cruiser, it seemed likely that she was, in fact, a Phandic agent. That was her deal.

  I typed furiously on my data-bracelet keyboard, but I did it by feel, keeping my eye on the screen camera as I hacked out a message to Captain Qwlessl. I hoped the Phands hadn’t picked up on Tamret’s improvised closed network, because if they had, we were as good as dead.

  “They gave you your own ship?” I said to Ms. Price. “That’s pretty cool. If I betray everything that’s good and right, can I get my own ship too?”

  “Ambassador Vusio-om is in command of this vessel,” she said. “He thought you might be more willing to negotiate with me than with him.”

  “Really, it’s six of one, half dozen of the other,” I told her. “I find you both equally charming.”

  “Your sarcasm is less amusing than it used to be,” she said. “And it was always annoying. Now please surrender. If you don’t, you will be destroyed.”

  “Ms. Price,” I said, doing my best to sound like someone who was not, in fact, facing destruction, “I think you know I won’t hand over this shuttle.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know. I know you have your father and your girlfriend on the ship with you. Maybe you have some grand plan to be a hero, but do you really want to get them killed?”

  I glanced over at Tamret, who was pretending to be completely absorbed in the operation of the shuttle. Everyone was so sure she was my girlfriend. We were going to have to talk when this was all over.

  “We’ll take our chances.”

  Ms. Price had to think we were hers for the taking. She thought she knew exactly where the Dependable was going to manifest and when. A ship was at its most vulnerable for a few seconds after emerging from a tunnel. The sensors scattered and the shielding was unreliable. An enemy lying in wait had a huge tactical advantage, but usually an enemy had no way of knowing precisely where and when a ship would appear. My plan depended upon the Phandic ship seizing this rare opportunity.

  There was again the slash against the sky as a hole ripped in regular space. I watched on our screen as the cruiser pointed toward that rip and fired.

  There was nothing there. And then there was something, a tiny ship where the Phands had been expecting a larger one. The Dependable hadn’t emerged from the tunnel. A shuttle had. This was the plan that I had sent to the Dependable via Tamret’s data-bracelet network. My enemies had set their sights on a cruiser, and they n
ow had to search for a target that was almost too small to hit with their blind firing. By now they would have realized their mistake, seen the shuttle, and begun to target it. I hoped they would be at least a few seconds too late.

  They were. Before they could lock on to the shuttle, it deployed a plasma lance, which cut through the shields, attached itself to the cruiser’s hull, and pulled, but just for a second. Then, as I had instructed, it reversed direction, so instead of pulling the cruiser toward the shuttle, it pulled the shuttle toward the cruiser. They were firing PPB blasts at it manically, but the shuttle was closing in fast and flying erratically, making it almost impossible to target.

  With a plasma lance embedded in its hull and a shuttle hurtling toward it at top speed, the Phandic cruiser would want to switch shield polarity to sever the lance cable and protect against collision with the shuttle. I’m sure that was precisely what they intended to do until another slash ripped across the horizon and the Dependable emerged.

  I could imagine the bridge of the Phandic ship, its commander countering the order to switch shield frequencies. If they protected themselves against collision with the shuttle, they would make themselves vulnerable to attack by the cruiser. My plan had been to put them in a situation where they had to choose between two evils: damage from the shuttle impact or certain destruction from another cruiser.

  They opted to let the shuttle hit, which must have seemed like the smart choice. The impact would likely tear a small hole in the hull, and then there would be some brief decompression before the plasma fields kicked in. Nasty, but far less dangerous than a barrage of PPB blasts against an unshielded cruiser. Of course, they didn’t know that I had advised Captain Qwlessl to place a dark-matter missile on the shuttle.

  The shuttle smacked against the hull of the cruiser, midway along its port side. There was a vortex in space as the missile released its negative energy and then unleashed the volatile dark matter into the deficit. It was as if space had been sucked in and then blown out. The shuttle exploded, and a hole was ripped into the side of the cruiser, appearing amid the bright orange burst of flame as the escaping oxygen burned. The puncture ran almost the height of the ship, and nearly half its length. The entire vessel lurched violently and pointed upward and to the side, then simply hung there like an insect in amber.

  From a distance I watched furniture and equipment being sucked into space. Then, all along the breach, a flickering blue light appeared as the Phandic cruiser patched the hull breach with a plasma field, instantly dousing the fire.

  I saw now that we had scored a good hit, though not a decisive one. The ship had suffered considerable damage, but it was still functional. Its ability to move or defend itself had been limited but not destroyed. I’d angered them and bought us some time, but no more than that.

  I used my data bracelet to signal the Dependable as I programmed a course change. “I don’t think major systems are damaged. Open the shuttle bay doors and give us cover. We’re going to have to come in hot.”

  I accelerated as we moved toward the Dependable. It was a big, ugly Phandic saucer, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I changed course and sped toward it, flying erratically as I tried to avoid the energy weapons the Phands had begun firing at us.

  “Zeke,” Ms. Price said over the video feed. “You are not making this easy for me.”

  “Wasn’t really hoping to,” I said as Tamret banked us sharply.

  “I’d rather take you alive,” she said. “But I will destroy you if there’s no other choice.”

  Tamret reached over and cut off communication. She then signaled Captain Qwlessl on the private channel. “Captain, this is Tamret. You don’t know me, but the short version is I’m pretty amazing. And I have an idea.”

  “Yes, you’re Zeke’s girlfriend. Go ahead.”

  “I want you to accelerate to ten percent below maximum speed,” she said. “Keep the shuttle bay doors open. I’ll come in at five percent above your speed, then match, and dock. Once I’m latched down, I want you to brake hard. We then turn and fire.”

  The captain said nothing as she thought this over.

  “It’s not going to work.” It was Urch speaking. “I’ve tried maneuvers like this in sim, and sharp movements at accelerated speeds radically alter your ability to target. You won’t be able to get any kind of weapons lock for several seconds. Meanwhile, you’re stationary, and an easy target for your enemy, whose position is comparatively stable.”

  I had, as I recalled, tried this manuever several times, including in that first match with the humans against the Rarels and Ish-hi, and I knew what Urch meant. It had been impossible to find a target when moving so fast. If it had been possible, we might have won that sim, but every time I’d tried this trick, it had failed.

  “Maybe you can’t do it,” she said. “Zeke can. Transfer weapons control to his console here.”

  “Wait a second,” I said, but Tamret held up a hand, letting me know it was time to be quiet.

  “What makes you think you’ll be able to lock from your location if we can’t lock from ours?” the captain asked.

  “He’s picked up a few tricks,” she said.

  And I had. My speed, my agility, and my perception were all beyond anything they’d been before. I could do it. Maybe.

  “Tamret’s right,” I said to the captain. “This will work.”

  “Zeke,” she said. “I can’t risk my crew on your hunch.”

  “It’s not a hunch,” I assured her. “If you’ve got another idea, I’m listening, but we’ve got to do something. Captain, please trust us. Tamret can handle the shuttle, and I can get a lock.”

  She paused for a moment. “How sure are you? One hundred percent?”

  “It’ll be a hundred percent after we do it,” I said. “Maybe ninety percent now.”

  Another pause. “I don’t like it, but I don’t see any other way we’re getting out of this. Keep in mind that if this doesn’t work, recapture is our best possible outcome.”

  “It will work,” I told her.

  She sighed. “I’ll have helm transfer our coordinates.”

  “Everything via data bracelet, not directly to the shuttle,” I cautioned.

  “Understood,” she said, and broke the connection.

  We received the data and then banked hard to port to follow the Dependable’s vector. Flashes from PPB fire flashed past the starboard viewer. We accelerated hard, and we all began to feel it. We were at almost a quarter light speed, and things were getting a little strange.

  Ms. Price was on the screen again. “Zeke, please remember that I was watching that battle sim. I know what you are going to try, and I know it didn’t work then. It’s not going to work in real life. Let’s face it. You’re competent, but you’re not an innovator.”

  “That big hole in the side of your ship says I’m kind of an innovator.”

  “Listen to me,” she said. “I’m not bluffing when I say I know what you are planning. You are going to land hard in the shuttle bay; Qwlessl is going to hit full stop. She will then turn and fire, and she’ll miss because weapons can’t lock under that kind of stress—which you know. We won’t take a hit, but you’ll end up dead. This is your last chance to surrender.”

  “Let me ask you this,” I said as I picked up speed. “What made you betray your world, your people? Money? Power?”

  She shook her head. “I’m standing on the bridge of a starship,” she said. “I’m a central player in intergalactic events. I’d think you, of all people, would understand.”

  “I understand that part, just not the evil.”

  “The Confederation isn’t what you think,” she said. “They only showed you what they want you to see. You have enemies in the empire, but they can be swayed. You’re a talented kid. You could make friends and rise. You and the Rarel and your father could all join us.”


  “Good-bye, Ms. Price,” I said. “I’ve learned a few things since I obliterated that last Phandic ship. I will try not to blow you up.”

  We were coming up hard on the Dependable. The cruiser wasn’t even bothering to target us. They were saving their weapons, securing the lock.

  Meanwhile, on our viewscreen, the Dependable grew larger as we zeroed in on it. The shuttle bay doors were open; the blue plasma shield had vanished. It was a tiny target, and we were coming so fast. Part of me looked at the shuttle bay and thought it was impossible. Tamret was working the controls, her face a mask of concentration—not panic. She had this. No matter how impossible it looked, she was in control.

  We bucked and bounced and everything vibrated. Lights flashed as the ship’s systems warned us we were approaching, and then exceeding, the shuttle’s maximum safe speed. I glanced behind me and saw the horror on every face back there—Nayana and Charles and the members of the selection committee. Everyone but my father, whose face betrayed nothing but a proud calm, like he somehow knew I could do this thing that no one should be able to do.

  I turned back to the consoles and the screens. The Dependable was getting closer, but was still miles away. Ten seconds later it was upon us. It was like we were falling toward it, like we were a missile bent on its destruction. There was no way to control our approach at speeds like this, but Tamret did it anyhow. She matched speed and let the shuttle bay swallow us as we came to a full stop. The g-force compensators kicked in, but there was only so much they could do, and the passengers were tossed around violently. I tried to ignore it all. My one chance to save us was coming up. That was all that mattered. I heard a couple of the passengers cry out as we set down on the shuttle bay floor, somehow without crashing. Barely. We braked hard as we came screeching to a halt across the length of the bay. In the limited atmosphere, I heard the ripping of metal on metal, and on the viewscreen I saw the sparks flying. It was ugly and frightening, and I had caused a lot of property damage, but I knew at once, even before we came to a full stop, that Tamret had landed us.