light that rose from the station, then veered wildly to escape as hostile ships pursued. A minute later he could still see the shape of the lifeboat, but the attacking craft were moving away, leaving it alone.
"We got a distress call from the lifeboat," Jarvis said softly. "It went silent. I think they're dead in space."
A plume of vapour erupted from the station. They were losing air. Wyatt could see the technician's shoulders shaking softly as she cried. The recording ended and the screen went dark.
Wyatt looked at Jarvis.
"It's an attack," Jarvis said. "Either they don't know we're here, or they haven't got around to us yet."
Wyatt stared at him, trying to shake an overwhelming sense of unreality. He wanted to tell himself it was a hoax, an elaborate practical joke his staff was playing on him. The look on Jarvis's face robbed him of that sad hope.
"I want radio silence," Wyatt said. "Turn off the nav beacon. Don't send any transmissions. We can't achieve a single bloody thing by calling anyone on the radio." He raked his fingers through the curly tangle of his hair. "Bring in all the staff. I want all personnel inside the building. And load the runabout with extra water and air." They could use the little ship to evacuate perhaps half the staff. Where they would go he didn't know, but he meant to be ready for anything.
There was a brief flurry of activity. Finally Jarvis turned to Wyatt and said, "What now?"
Wyatt shrugged helplessly. "Now we wait."
Chapter 20 – Hammett
The Alexander rode its braking thrusters and fell endlessly toward the planet Kukulcan. Hammett was back on the bridge. Every bridge station was still dead, but the bridge was in the heart of the ship, which made it an ideal communication hub. Every few minutes another breathless cadet would appear with a fresh sighting on the planet. Carruthers would do a quick calculation, then send another cadet to one of the maneuvering thrusters to make a correction.
It was an exhausting way to travel, veering constantly back and forth as they tried to keep the ship on target. For eight long hours they had careened through the void, but the long journey was nearly over.
"It's a good thing the station isn't armed," Carruthers said. "They must be trying to raise us on the radio by now."
Hammett nodded. There was simply no way for the Alexander to identify itself. They had no communications at all.
Lieutenant Yoon paced along one wall of the bridge. She had done rocket racing in her youth, which meant she had priceless experience with navigating a ship by visual data and dead reckoning. She was probably the only person on the Alexander who had ever put a ship into orbit without computer assistance.
"I can't promise a proper synchronous orbit," she said, not for the first time.
"Just do your best." Hammett glanced at the doorway to the bridge as another cadet appeared. It was a girl, short and solidly built, slumping with weariness. Her hair stood up in clumps, and a mix of dirt and smoke coated her face. At some point she had wiped her eyes, leaving streaks of white skin that stood out vividly against the soot. She gave him a sketchy salute and said, "I've got the final roster."
For a moment Hammett didn't know what she meant. Then he remembered. An hour or two before he'd sent her to get a casualty count. That meant making the rounds of the entire ship and counting who was left.
"Forty-seven dead or missing," she said. Her chin started to tremble. "I guess the missing ones aren't going to turn up, are they?" She looked at him with haunted eyes and said, "That's forty-seven dead. Thirty-two cadets, thirteen regular crew, and two officers." She held up a rumpled strip of paper towel, marked up in grease pencil. "I have all the names if you want, Sir."
She looked down at the list and her whole body started to shake. She looked up again, and two lines of tears made tracks through the dirt on her face. "I'm s-sorry, I-"
"Cadet," Hammett said.
The
"We got a distress call from the lifeboat," Jarvis said softly. "It went silent. I think they're dead in space."
A plume of vapour erupted from the station. They were losing air. Wyatt could see the technician's shoulders shaking softly as she cried. The recording ended and the screen went dark.
Wyatt looked at Jarvis.
"It's an attack," Jarvis said. "Either they don't know we're here, or they haven't got around to us yet."
Wyatt stared at him, trying to shake an overwhelming sense of unreality. He wanted to tell himself it was a hoax, an elaborate practical joke his staff was playing on him. The look on Jarvis's face robbed him of that sad hope.
"I want radio silence," Wyatt said. "Turn off the nav beacon. Don't send any transmissions. We can't achieve a single bloody thing by calling anyone on the radio." He raked his fingers through the curly tangle of his hair. "Bring in all the staff. I want all personnel inside the building. And load the runabout with extra water and air." They could use the little ship to evacuate perhaps half the staff. Where they would go he didn't know, but he meant to be ready for anything.
There was a brief flurry of activity. Finally Jarvis turned to Wyatt and said, "What now?"
Wyatt shrugged helplessly. "Now we wait."
Chapter 20 – Hammett
The Alexander rode its braking thrusters and fell endlessly toward the planet Kukulcan. Hammett was back on the bridge. Every bridge station was still dead, but the bridge was in the heart of the ship, which made it an ideal communication hub. Every few minutes another breathless cadet would appear with a fresh sighting on the planet. Carruthers would do a quick calculation, then send another cadet to one of the maneuvering thrusters to make a correction.
It was an exhausting way to travel, veering constantly back and forth as they tried to keep the ship on target. For eight long hours they had careened through the void, but the long journey was nearly over.
"It's a good thing the station isn't armed," Carruthers said. "They must be trying to raise us on the radio by now."
Hammett nodded. There was simply no way for the Alexander to identify itself. They had no communications at all.
Lieutenant Yoon paced along one wall of the bridge. She had done rocket racing in her youth, which meant she had priceless experience with navigating a ship by visual data and dead reckoning. She was probably the only person on the Alexander who had ever put a ship into orbit without computer assistance.
"I can't promise a proper synchronous orbit," she said, not for the first time.
"Just do your best." Hammett glanced at the doorway to the bridge as another cadet appeared. It was a girl, short and solidly built, slumping with weariness. Her hair stood up in clumps, and a mix of dirt and smoke coated her face. At some point she had wiped her eyes, leaving streaks of white skin that stood out vividly against the soot. She gave him a sketchy salute and said, "I've got the final roster."
For a moment Hammett didn't know what she meant. Then he remembered. An hour or two before he'd sent her to get a casualty count. That meant making the rounds of the entire ship and counting who was left.
"Forty-seven dead or missing," she said. Her chin started to tremble. "I guess the missing ones aren't going to turn up, are they?" She looked at him with haunted eyes and said, "That's forty-seven dead. Thirty-two cadets, thirteen regular crew, and two officers." She held up a rumpled strip of paper towel, marked up in grease pencil. "I have all the names if you want, Sir."
She looked down at the list and her whole body started to shake. She looked up again, and two lines of tears made tracks through the dirt on her face. "I'm s-sorry, I-"
"Cadet," Hammett said.
The
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