No Sound In Space

(This is the second chapter of "Vipers and Krakens". The first chapter is available right here on Vocal)

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Just one of the few alliances forged between the United Earth Republic by its Lord President, David Graves, had provided the UE navy with their galactic-class armada. Just upward of two hundred battlecruisers, fashioned with the armour plating and weaponry of a Gustavii warboat.

The Gustavii’s ability to build ships was unparalleled, but they weren’t much for fighting. Aside from the considerable commissioning fee, they required military support. Several batallions of UE Paladins had already been stationed on Gustav, at the beck and call of the Gustavii High Council. A small price to pay for a chance at naval superiority.

The design of the cruisers was synonymous across the navy. Iconic, although HMS Rasputin was one of the smaller models. It was just shy of two thousand feet in length, with twelve decks. Twenty meson trebuchets lined each hull, along with two fighter launch bays with a capacity of twelve each. The cruiser’s midsection was graced by a Velocity Ring, around seven hundred feet in diameter, that was locked in “orbit” around the cruiser by use of electromagnetic energy. The ring worked in tandem with the Flash Engine and spun at high speed to build up the energy needed for propulsion into Accelerated Space.

A revolving energy pylon was mounted on the aft hull, between the two kinetic expulsion ports. The pylon pulled charged molecules from the solar wind to feed the ship’s heart, the power core. And the power core itself was a giant particle accelerator that collided atoms taken in by the pylon together to create an endless supply of energy.

Energy that fed the Flash Engine, life support, armaments, communications; anything that used power. The ship’s hull was made of a triboron alloy that was reinforced to withstand impacts from meteors and collisions at well over the speed of light.

Engineering was easily the largest section of these cruisers, though. Rasputin’s engineering section took up five whole decks. Deck eleven was just one of these levels, and was mostly used for storage. Midshipman Frank Harcourt, as the CQ, was the only officer who frequented deck eleven, and he tended to get touchy when people messed with his things.

Frank’s workshop on deck eleven was a spacious room, about thirty feet wide, that was crammed with what looked like every bit of technology and equipment that he’d been able to get his greasy hands on. A large, daxoglass cube sat in the middle of the room, a scanning chamber.

Saffron stood in the middle of the chamber, arms raised in a letter “T” as Frank prepped her spacesuit. Although “prepped” was a strong word. It was more like Saffron was prepping her own suit, and Frank was being walked through it. After all, she couldn’t do it by herself, and Frank, good as he was, was barely more than a novice when it came to Spacewalks.

Saffron had already changed out of her uniform into a matte black undersuit, and on top of that was the spacesuit itself. A black, form-fitting chunk of reinforced dineokevlar, somewhat resembling an exoskeleton. Back at West Point Academy, they’d called these suits “crisp packets”.

Saffron was the only officer aboard that was certified to perform exo-operations, and her suit had been bio-coded to her. Not only was it tailored to her measurements, but the communications system had been keyed to her voiceprint, and the oxygen valves to her DNA.

“Okay,” Saffron said. “See that thing there?” she pointed to one of Frank’s tables, where a device sat waiting. “I need you to fasten that to my wrist.”

Frank picked up the device. It was small, with a screen and two straps. “You don’t have to say “that thing”, Saff, I know a transceiver when I see one.”

“Oh, really?” Saffron drawled. “What’s the screen for, then?”

“Just between us,” Frank said as he hopped out of the cube and returned to a computer screen, where he began typing on a touch-board. “I was hungover for most of my time at The Point. But unless I’m very much mistaken, the screen should be lighting up right now, no?”

Saffron checked her wrist. Indeed, the panel was glowing a vibrant green. “O2 levels okay,” she reported.

“Roger,” Frank nodded. “Remember to keep checking that panel regularly, if it goes yellow, you’re depleting your reserves too quickly.”

“I know,” Saffron nodded back. “But don’t worry, I’m not really in trouble until it hits Racecar Red.”

“That’s four minutes until you’re pushing up Space daisies,” Frank remarked.

“Exactly,” Saffron confirmed. “Back at The Point, we used to say “green is keen, and red is dead”.”

“I don’t know about you,” Frank said. “But I actively try to avoid dying, I hear it’s a real bummer.”

“Same,” Saffron agreed.

“In your field training, did they also teach you to remember to check your O2 levels in case debris perforates your tank?” Frank checked.

“They did,” Saffron said. “Don’t fret, the suits have a safety feature. If the tank gets compromised, there’s a high-pitch whine in my helmet.”

Frank gave her a halfway concerned look. “How high-pitched are we talking? Because it’s going to have to be pretty loud for you to hear it over the explosions and whatnot.”

The corner of Saffron’s mouth twitched as she tried to stifle a giggle.

“Oh yeah,” Frank looked abashed at this. “No Sound In Space, I forgot.”

“Bingo,” Saffron tried to snap her fingers, but she’d forgotten that she was wearing her suit’s armoured gloves.

“Okay, so next is my area of expertise,” Frank said matter-of-factly. “Tools.”

“Tools,” Saffron repeated. “Which ones do I need?”

Frank mentally ran some variables. “Damaged firing mechanism,” he murmured to himself. He ran his fingers along a rack mounted on the wall and selected a plain, white canister. He slid this into a port on Saffron’s belt. “First thing’s first, here’s your nanomite spray. If your suit gets damaged, you’ll want to patch it up ASAP or you could lose an arm or a leg.”

“Yeah, I’ll try and give that a miss,” Saffron said seriously.

“Good shout,” Frank agreed. “Three-second burst does the trick. If there’s a perforation in the suit, the damaged area will start to get real cold.”

“Really cold,” Saffron corrected immediately.

“Thanks, mum,” Frank said with distaste. “Now, for the actual job itself, take this.”

He slid another device, this one small, black and L-shaped, into another port on the belt. “Laser cutter on your left, multi-tool on your right. About the laser cutter, remember no more than-”

“Five seconds per burst,” Saffron finished. “I know. Or I could melt something important.”

Frank snorted. “I wouldn’t worry about that. What you should be worried about is superheating the firing mechanism. That can only end in one of two ways.”

“Which two ways?” Saffron wondered aloud.

“Either ka,” Frank held up his thumb. “Or boom,” he added, extending his index finger. “Take your pick.”

“Right, right,” Saffron said. “Don’t blow myself up, got you, loud and clear.”

“I really can’t stress that enough,” Frank said seriously. “Now, the hull has a lot of external access ports. I’ll get you as close to the firing mechanism as possible, but it’sfairly deep into the hull itself. You’ll have to find the right port, slice into the hull and reach the access panel. When you get to the panel, which should be coloured red, use that multi-tool to remove the rivets on it. Take the panel off, and the mechanism should slide out on a sort of rail thing. It might take a bit of force to realign the mechanism. Use the laser cutter to cut away any shrapnel or anything. You got all that?”

Saffron nodded. “I think so.”

“Say it back.”

“Find the access port, climb into the hull, take the panel off, realign the mechanism,” Saffron repeated rapidly.

“Tight,” Frank remarked. He handed Saffron her helmet, a black sphere. “Make sure you keep the visor down, or your eyes are gonna be screwed up for like a week. Now, last thing, take this.”

He handed her what vaguely resembled an assault rifle. Saffron, however, recognised it as a grappling gun.

“You’ve used one of those, right?”

“Of course,” Saffron said indignantly. “What’s the tip made of, Smart Metal?”

“Bingo,” Frank replied.

“So it should pierce the hull okay,” Saffron reasoned.

“Exactly,” Frank nodded. “Then you detach the barrel and lock it onto your belt. Nice and simple. Now, would you care for a Hertz doughnut?”

“Beg pardon?” Saffron asked, nonplussed.

Frank didn’t immediately answer, merely returned to his computer screen and tapped a few keys. Suddenly, Saffron doubled over as she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her left eye. “Son of a bitch!” she exclaimed.

Frank snickered at this. “Hurts, don’t it?”

“What was that?” Saffron exclaimed.

“Just a new thing I’m testing out,” Frank said evasively. He swiveled his computer screen, and Saffron started.

The screen displayed…the screen. It displayed exactly what she was seeing! Saffron glanced to the left, and the screen changed to mimic her optics in real time. “Whoa,” she intoned.

“Trippy, right?” Frank smiled. “I had a little nanotech power left over, so I’m piggybacking on the nerve between your retina and your brain. Better than a body cam any day.”

Saffron privately agreed, but she was suddenly aware that she didn’t have any time to be blown away. She clicked her helmet into place, and the world around her became muted. She reached for the two silver touch-pads on her wrist transceiver and pressed them in tandem, before speaking clearly into her helmet.

“Foxtrot Hotel Six, this is Sierra Delta Niner, See Me Going Clear, check.”

Frank nodded, indicating that Saffron’s voice was coming through on his own transceiver. “Seen, Sierra Delta. Your comms system is woven into the ship’s channel, so you should be able to talk to the bridge.”

Saffron gave him a thumbs-up. Frank stood back to admire his handiwork. “A bit shoddy,” he said. “But you shall go to the ball.”

“Hey!”

Saffron’s indignation was interrupted by another channel invading their network. She immediately recognized the voice of Logan Danvers.

“This is Hotel Six, talk to me,” Frank reported, suddenly all businesslike.

“Is she out yet?” Logan asked, his tone of voice betraying the agitation.

“Not yet.”

“Well get a move on!” this time, Logan didn’t even try to give the appearance of serenity. “I don’t know if you two can tell from down there, but we’re getting hammered like a girl on her wedding night!”

“Roger, Delta Two,” Frank said sharply. “Ninety seconds to airlock.”

Saffron and Frank left the workshop and followed the corridor to the airlock at the end.

“Your carriage awaits, m’lady,” Frank said, gesturing toward a small cubicle at the airlock.

Saffron stepped into the chamber. It was roughly four feet by four feet, and the door slid shut behind her with a hiss as she entered.

“If truth be told, I kind of wish I could go instead,” Frank said wistfully, pressing buttons on the console on the other side of the door.

“Maybe when you’re older, junior,” Saffron said with no small measure of condescending in her tone.

Frank rolled his eyes and pressed a final button. There was a sharp click, and then a distinct sloshing sound. Saffron glanced down and realized that she’d moved her boot into what was unmistakably a puddle. As she watched, more water began to flood into the booth, rising steadily.

“Oh no, the booth’s flooding,” Frank said in a bored tone, wiggling his fingers theatrically. “How terrible.”

Saffron knew well enough that she wasn’t going to drown. She had an air-tight helmet seal and an oxygen tank for one thing. And for another, this stuff wasn’t even water. She could tell just by looking. The consistency was…off. It had a similar composition; hydrogen bonded with water, but with the addition of microscopic sensors.

This was Smart Water, used for scanning people and surfaces, and relaying information back into a computer.

Saffron rolled her eyes at Frank’s theatrics. “Yeah, I’ve already seen this bit. They did it back at The Point to make us shit ourselves.”

“And I suppose Little Miss Perfect kept her cool?” Frank drawled.

Saffron scoffed. “Of course not, I shat myself with everyone else.”

It wasn’t an overreaction. A lesser-known fact about Saffron was that she couldn’t swim. She couldn’t even float. And submerged in water was just about the place in the universe that she wanted to be the least.

The Smart Water had reached Saffron’s chest level now, and was still rising quickly. Scanning before exo-operations was standard procedure. Hostile artillery wasn’t the only danger in Space. Besides the solar storms, the meteors and the black holes, there was also an unprecedented hazard that was more likely than it sounded: hostile pathogens.

Extraterrestrial bacteria was pretty much everywhere, and they couldn’t run the risk of Saffron bringing something back with her to infect the entire crew with. And so Frank was going to scan her once again on re-entry, only the ship’s bio-computer had no idea what a healthy, human woman was supposed to look like, and so they needed a pre-existing scan to match it up against.

Saffron was now fully submerged in the Smart Water. It didn’t really feel like liquid, it felt more like trying to stay standing up inside soup.

Frank ‘hmmed’ softly as he glanced at the medical readout.

“What?” Saffron asked.

“You have Type-2 Diabetes,” Frank said plainly.

Saffron rolled her eyes. “Used to. I was on treatment for it, it’s mostly cleared up. Are you going to mention my lactose intolerance as well?”

“Hey!” Frank sounded attacked. “What’s with the hostile?”

“You’re not here to bring up my medical history,” Saffron said, irked. “We’re on the clock.”

Frank nodded and pressed another button. With a second click, the chamber emptied. He reached up for his transceiver. “Hotel Six to bridge, standing by to launch Delta Niner for Spacewalk. Bridge confirm, check.”

There were a few moments of silence before Logan’s voice sounded off in Saffron’s helmet. “Bridge to Hotel Six, Delta Nine is go for launch. Out.”

“Jolly good,” Frank said sarcastically. His finger hovered over the final button. He glanced at his commanding officer. “You ready, Saff?”

Saffron nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Frank nodded back. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

He pressed the button.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, there was a gentle hum that began to escalate. Saffron could feel the vibrations reverberating through her suit. Next second, the cabin began to rise upward through the ship’s chassis. The last sight Saffron saw of Frank Harcourt was his eyes following her on her upward trajectory.

The cabin began to pick up speed as it zoomed upward. The ceiling and four walls fell away, retracted into the ship. Now, Saffron was standing on a four-foot long platform being propelled upward. She glanced up. Above her was a missing section in the ship’s top hull and beyond it was black.

Just black.

Inky darkness that somehow seemed alive. The platform came to a stop as it reached the top hull, and Saffron’s eyes lit up.

For the most part, the ship’s top deck was flat, and seemed to stretch on forever. Fifty feet behind her, Saffron could see the hulking form of the rear-mounted meson turrets, with the two torpedo launchers either side of them. Rasputin itself was barreling through the asteroid belt at speed.

Saffron could hardly grasp how she appeared to be glued to the ship’s surface, especially when each second seemed as though she should be plummeting into deep Space.

The asteroid belt itself was a ring of rocks, ice and Space debris that seemed to be threaded seamlessly into the Jocasta Nebula. Streaks of brilliant blue and flecks of crimson red seemed to melt into the blackness of the void, appeared to swirl and congeal in a hazy mess of colours and yet, stayed separate at the same time. But the brightness of the nebula itself was nothing to that of its beating heart.

Jocasta Phi burned a fiery blue that threw everything into sharper focus. Blue stars were the coolest of all, but Saffron could still feel the ebbing heat from where she stood.

Saffron did not know how long she stood there, rooted to the spot, eyes drinking in the sight around her. And the sight was all that she had, because as soon as she’d gone past the oxygen membrane, the world had gone silent. Saffron stood there, on the ship’s hull, blazing through Space at hundreds of thousands of miles an hour, and all she could hear was her own ragged breath inside her helmet.

And then it wasn’t all she could hear.

Frank’s voice sounded off in her helmet abruptly. “Hotel Six to Delta Niner, See Me Going Clear, check.”

His voice barely scratched the surface of Saffron’s conscious mind.

“Saff,” Frank tried again. “Can you hear me, Saff? You’re not moving! Commander Dyvora, respond!”

He shouted the last word with such urgency that Saffron was snapped out of her stupor. “I can hear you!” she shouted, irritated. “Don’t shout in my ear!”

Saffron heard Frank breathe a sigh of relief, but then next second, he exclaimed, “Saff, get down!”

Saffron immediately threw herself down on her belly, sprawling across the hull beneath her. Next second, something huge shot overhead, and she felt sure that if she’d been standing up, it would have taken her head off.

Saffron looked up to see what had nearly killed her to see one of the two remaining pirate frigates overtaking them. Saffron watched on, powerless to assist, as the frigate’s undercarriage-mounted cannon swiveled in a 180-degree arc and discharged, blasting Rasputin’s bow.

The resulting jolt released shock waves of such magnitude that Saffron was sure she was going to be thrown from the ship’s hull. But she wasn’t. However, inside the ship, the crew weren’t so lucky. Frank’s voice came back through, and the static that riddled it did nothing to dull the panic and anguish in his tones. “Breach, breach!” he screamed. “The hull is broken! Decks nine through twelve have been compromised!”

Saffron swore, loudly and viciously. “Jesus Christ, Frank!” she moaned. “Tell me we didn’t lose anybody!”

“Twenty starboard armaments were hit!” Frank reported. “That’s…Jesus, that’s half of Logan’s crew!”

“No, no, no, no!”

“I’m losing life signs!” Frank exclaimed. “They’re just…going out like flies! They’re just dying!”

“How many, Frank?!”

“Forty-five dead,” Frank said grimly. “Fifty. Sixty. Seventy dead. Fuck me, we lost O’Malley!”

Victoria O’Malley was the medical officer, and her death hit Saffron harder than she expected. They hadn’t known each other so well, but she was one of the team. And ever since the Captain’s death, Saffron was the Officer Commanding that team. Now, O’Malley was just another person that Saffron had failed to save.

“I’m sealing off the ship at deck eight!” Frank exclaimed. “I can bring you back in there, but we need to return fire, and we need to do it now! Get to that access panel!”

“I’m going!” Saffron promised. She readjusted her grip on the grappling rifle, pushed herself to her feet, and took off at a brisk run. With the reduced gravity, she felt a million kilos lighter. As Saffron looked down, she noticed that the hull seemed to be shimmering. This was the protective membrane that protected the ship, the shield.

“Frank, where am I going?”

“Just stay on course,” Frank replied. “Once you reach the edge of the top deck, you’re going to have to rappel down the starboard hull to the access port.”

“I’m nearing the edge,” Saffron reported a few minutes later. “Talk to me.”

“Once you get there, use the gun,” Frank said. “Use the cable to rappel down.”

Saffron did just that. She fired the grappling rifle, and the spike on the end of the cable pierced the hull beneath her boots. Saffron twisted the barrel and it slid out of the gun, then she tossed the rifle aside. It didn’t even touch the hull, but was instantly swept away into the void. Saffron slid the barrel into a port on her belt and felt it click as it locked in. She tugged on the cable gently to check it was secure, and then began to lower herself over the edge of the ship.

Saffron looked over the edge of the ship for the first time and caught her breath. Hanging beneath her was the most breathtaking sight that she’d ever seen before in her life.

The armoured starboard hull of the ship stretched beneath her like a giant wall of shielded metal, but at the base, there was a huge chunk of the hull missing, like somebody had gouged a piece right out of it. The damaged metal had been scorched black and twisted from the onslaught, and much of the ruined debris floated in the vacuum.

Saffron pushed off from the edge of the hull, slowly rappelling down the edge of the ship as quickly as she dared. As she drew closer and closer to the capsized area of Rasputin, however, she began to recognise familiar shapes drifting among the derelict debris.

“Oh, my god,” Saffron murmured. “Are those…bodies?”

Frank could see everything that she could, and judging by his silence, he knew the answer to her question. “More than half of the ship was depressurized,” he said gravely. “We lost…we lost half of my crew and the entire security detail. We can’t be sure how many more. We think there are people stuck on deck ten, but-”

“But what?!”

“We can’t get to them,” Frank finished. “They’re trapped.”

“We have to help them!”

“We can’t! I just about made it back to the bridge myself!”

Saffron felt like swearing and kicking something. There were people down there! Ordinary, unique, living people! People who Saffron was supposed to keep safe. People who were facing their final moments.

Saffron wondered if they knew. Did they know they were about to die? Or did they still have faith in their leader to save them?

“Okay, stop,” Frank said abruptly.

Saffron froze. “What?”

“You’re more or less where you need to be,” Frank reported. “The access panel is about three metres deep into the hull. Slice in with your laser cutter, I’m going to disengage the Sentinels in your sector.”

A few moments later, Saffron had cut a sizable hole in Rasputin’s hull. She replaced her laser cutter in her belt, which was warm against her hip, even through the suit, and used her gloved hands to pull herself in. It was dark, but even as she had the thought, the torch mounted on the side of her helmet activated, allowing her a small beam of light to illuminate the darkness.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she was seeing. All Saffron could make out was darkness and a maze of metallic beams. Directly ahead of her, there was a small gap large enough for her to squeeze through.

“You have eyes on the prize?” Frank checked.

Saffron checked her surroundings, and her heart jumped. “Affirmative.”

On the other side of the small gap that she’d squeezed through was what looked like a small terminal with a crimson access panel on it. The panel was secured using rivets.

“Okay, let’s get this party started,” Frank said warmly. “Use the multi-tool to take the rivets off.”

Saffron did just that, and then slid the panel off. True to Frank’s word, the entire firing mechanism slid out on some kind of rail contraption. Saffron immediately saw the damage: it looked like a delicate piece of machinery, and the impacts had knocked it out of alignment. It took a bit of tugging, but she managed to click it back into place.

“Okay, it’s done!” Saffron reported. “What now?”

Frank paused for a moment. “We’re back online!” he crowed. “Torpedo launcher is armed and ready! Well done, Saff, get back inside! I’m going to direct you to a different external port, one that should take you right to deck three.”

“Wait, Frank!” Saffron hissed.

Something had been niggling at the back of her mind, and it was only now that she realized what it was. “Don’t you think something’s strange?”

“Something like what?”

“We’re not taking any fire,” Saffron said plainly. “We haven’t been for a while now. I think they’ve stopped firing.”

“You’re right!” Frank exclaimed. “How did I not notice that? What’s happening out there?”

Saffron had a nasty feeling that she knew exactly what was happening out there. She wasn’t just an executive officer, she’d graduated near the top of her class with a Grade “A” in strategic analysis, and something about the pattern that she’d subconsciously noticed was starting to click.

“Frank, turn all the scanners open as wide as they go!” Saffron barked. “We need to know if there’s a ship that’s-”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence. Rasputin was rocked with a terrible jolt that shook the teeth in Saffron’s head.

Frank swore viciously inside her helmet. “Another ship just docked with us!”

Jesus Christ! Saffron thought desperately. “What kind of ship?”

“Small,” Frank blurted. “It must have been deployed from one of the frigates! Oh bloody hell, it’s got a Vacuum Slicer!”

A Vacuum Slicer was a highly illegal ship retrofit that could slice through the hull of a ship at virtually any level and create an airlocked corridor. They weren’t trying to destroy Rasputin, they were trying to Board it. And if something wasn’t done, in a very few short moments, they were going to be up to their ears in pirates.

This isn’t a chance encounter! Saffron felt like slapping herself. They want the cargo!

Saffron began moving as fast as she could, arms and legs working in tandem as she pulled herself through the husk of the ship. She screamed into her helmet as she worked. “Frank! Frank, you hear me?!”

“I’m losing life signs on deck seven!” Frank gasped. “What are you doing?!” he exclaimed suddenly.

“What?!” Saffron shouted back.

It wasn’t Frank’s voice she heard next, however, it was Logan’s. The transceiver wasn’t close enough for her to make out his entire sentence, however, but she got the gist. “…us all killed! …only thing that makes sense…no weapons…Abandon Ship!”

“Frank!” Saffron screamed into her helmet. “Frank! Tell me I didn’t just hear that! Frank!”

Logan’s voice came through again, stronger and clearer this time. “Hostiles are aboard, Commander! They’re armed, we’re not, and this ship doesn’t even have enough power to cook an egg right now! Leaving is our only option!”

“We are not abandoning this ship!” Saffron barked forcefully. “Do you understand me, Lieutenant? We are not!”

“Come to your senses!” Logan almost screamed. “The transport bay is on deck six! The pirates broke in at deck seven, they’re fighting their way up! We’ve got just a chance to make it to deck six first! If we don’t, we’re all going to die, and I am not letting that happen!”

“Lieutenant, you will remain at your post! That is an order! Confirm command, Lieutenant!”

Logan didn’t even respond. The next voice Saffron heard was Frank’s again. “He’s gone,” Frank sounded hollow. “He’s leaving, everybody is!”

“Fuck!” Saffron screamed.

“They’re panicking!” Frank tried.

“They’re never going to make it to deck six alive!” Saffron exclaimed. “You’ve got to get them back, Frank!”

“What can I do?!”

Saffron did her utmost to calm her mind and think for a moment. A moment that she didn’t have. “Can you use the Blinkers? Get me back aboard?”

Every UE ship had an Emergency Teleport Displacement System, or “Blinkers” as they were called, using for navigating wrecked and derelict ships.

“I think so,” Frank confirmed. “The problem is energy. If I do this, we’ll be cutting our auxiliary reserves in half! Let me just get a fix on you.”

Saffron had already stopped listening. Something’s happening.

She pulled herself out of the ship and began rappelling back up the side of the hull to get a better look.

Her arms worked in flawless tandem, with more athletic precision than she’d ever exhibited before in life. And for good reason.

When she reached the top, she knew instantly that whichever god was watching down on them had just sent them a miracle. And she could have done with a miracle about an hour back, but it’d have to do.

“Frank!” Saffron said urgently. “You get the crew back to the bridge! Get them back now! Whoever you can get, do it!”

“I told you, they won’t listen to me!” Frank exclaimed. “You gave Logan Control!“

“Frank, look at your scanners!” Saffron urged.

There’d been a rush of energy that had swarmed the entire system, made the hairs on the back of Saffron’s neck stand on end. Next second, something had appeared. Something vast, and metallic, and crackling with vivid blue energy that Saffron recognized as tachyon residue, the energy for conquering the lightspeed barrier.

This was a ship. And not just any ship. A Y-Class battlecruiser, a Gustavii model. An exact mirror of Rasputin, only bigger. Much bigger.

Two energy pylons graced the stern, forty-five meson trebuchets lined each hull and giant lettering was stamped onto the port hull denoting its name.

HMS Valiant.

Rasputin was assigned to the ninth United Earth fleet, and Valiant was the ninth’s command vessel, its capital ship. As Saffron watched on, more and more ships began to appear behind it, and she recognized them all.

HMS Broadsword, HMS Incubus, HMS Yosemite Falls, more and more cruisers began to flit into the system.

“Saff, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Frank asked in a deathly whisper.

“Yeah,” Saffron breathed. “I am.”

Their extraction had arrived.