At least that’s what Susan told herself as the decision she’d already made solidified in her mind.
“No. They’re really in trouble. This guy is a Grade A hard-ass, he’s not faking injury. That’s beneath him.”
“Mum,” Miguel began, but Susan cut him off.
“They’re spacers, Miguel. Just like us. Sent out here in the black to poke at monsters, by monsters. And I won’t kill them when they’re begging for mercy, not until I’m sure they’re faking. Because if the tables were turned, I’d be praying they gave us the same chance.”
Miguel’s frown dug trenches in his cheeks, but he returned to parade ground attention at her side and opened a link to the shuttle bay. “Flight Ops, prepare for rescue operations. Marine commander, ready a security team in hardsuits. Damage control supervisor, equip a team and have them waiting in the shuttle bay in ten minutes. Sickbay, send a detail to Flight Ops prepped and ready to treat Xre casualties. Repeat, Xre casualties. Full biological and radiological protocols.”
“What?” Nesbit half-shouted. “You can’t be serious. We’ve got to stop them short of the line. That’s the only reason we’re out here!”
“I’ve given my orders, Mr. Nesbit,” Susan said icily.
“Yeah, the wrong orders. Your own XO told you, you’re countermanding seventy years of foreign policy. You don’t have the authority.”
“You are here as an observer and advisor, Mr. Nesbit, which is where your authority ends.”
“I’m done with you,” he said dismissively before turning to Miguel. “Commander, relieve the captain and—”
Miguel moved so fast his body blurred into Susan’s peripheral vision. Before anyone really registered what happened, he’d thrown Nesbit up against the CIC’s starboard bulkhead with the ease of a child pinning the tail on the donkey.
“Listen, suit,” Miguel said with the sort of deliberate calm that promised unimaginable chaos if it was disturbed in the least measure. “The old lady made her call. That’s her job. I implement her orders. That’s my job. Don’t think for a millisecond that our disagreement before she gave me an order was an opening for you to wiggle in after it was issued. Clear?”
Nesbit had some difficulty talking around the vise-grip hand clamped down on his throat, so he just nodded his understanding instead.
“Good.” Miguel released him.
Susan turned to address the marine by the hatch who’d somehow managed to remain at attention through the entire exchange. “Guard, our CL appears to be suffering from fatigue. Please escort him back to his quarters and make sure he gets a full watch of uninterrupted rest.”
“Immediately, mum.” The marine stepped into the CIC, the palm of his hand resting on his still-holstered-but-it-wouldn’t-take-a-second sidearm. “CL Nesbit, if you’ll come with me?”
He reached out to take Nesbit by the elbow, but was rebuffed.
“I know the way to my cabin, Private,” Nesbit huffed. “This is all going in my report, Captain.”
“As it will in mine, sir. Get some rest.” Susan nodded to the marine guard and Nesbit was unceremoniously escorted out of her sight. “And just when I was starting to think we might get along,” she lamented.
“Hope springs eternal,” Miguel said.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not mutinying. I know how bad you want a command.”
“Ha! I’ll earn one the old-fashioned way.” He looked up at the plot and the falling countdown. “If I live that long. I sure hope you’re right about this, mum.”
“Me too, XO. Guns, lock our laser array onto the Chusexx’s antimatter containment pods. If they as much as sneeze, don’t wait for my order, just blow them straight back to wherever the hell their homeworld is.”
“With pleasure, mum.”
“Good. Open a channel.”
“Derstu,” Hurg perked up in her seat. “We’re getting a song from the human ship.”
Thuk’s hopes rose. Why would the humans bother to answer his song if they were already committed to their destruction? Maybe there was a slim chance to survive the disaster after all. “Put it to the mouths.”
“Chusexx harmony, this is [Derstu] Susan Kamala, CCDF Ansari. We grab your [Mayday] and stand to contribute. Be caution, aggression will greet death power instant. Sleep weapons and take/accept rescue/savior bird.”
Everyone stared at each other with their mandibles hanging limp. The humans were not only staying their execution, but offering aid? It didn’t seem possible.
“It’s a trick,” Kivits said. “Has to be. They mean to board us and take the ship as a prize.”
“Perhaps.”
“Well? We can’t let that happen.”
“We won’t. If they are being deceptive, we will simply scuttle the ship.”
“But we’ll all die!”
“We were going to do that anyway. We’re trading for time and chances. And I’ll take as much of both as I can possibly leverage. Hurg, let me sing our reply, please.”
“Ready to capture, Derstu.”
“Susan Kamala, I am Thuk, singing for this harmony. We accept your offered hand with great thanks, and will gladly receive your rescue team. Without source energy, our weapons are already disabled. However, we must keep our meteor brooms active, even if the risk is low. Send, please.”
Thuk awaited the reply nervously. He wouldn’t have to wait long. At this short range, light lag would be negligible.
“[Derstu] Thuk, song acceptable. Be caution, any light shine on rescue/savior bird greet death power. We launch shortly. Small hand of warriors travel bird defend rescue/savior attendants. Please hospitality.”
Thuk and Kivits looked at each other for a long, silent, uncomfortable moment.
“No,” Kivits finally said. “No way.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“You want to let human warriors into our home?”
“‘Want’ is not the right word. We ‘need’ to.”
“And let them turn on us at any moment?”
“If they do, I’m confident our own warriors will defend their home with a great deal of enthusiasm. A handful of humans, on foot, in an unfamiliar mound, can’t possibly fight their way to the mind cavern before we release the annihilation fuel reserves. Our situation is fundamentally unchanged. This is an affront, but it is not a problem.”
“I don’t
