Asteroid D12, Contested Sarayan Space, Standard Year 403 after founding

  1.2 standard days to the Tundran equinox. Alanna ate another ration bar and stared out at the viewscreen. Her eyes were starting to get dry and scratchy from all the staring. Did she see something moving out there? There was no glint of metal, just an odd flicker of shadow where a star should have been. She blinked, refocusing on the screen.

  “Tom, mark 312.648, refocus the sensors.”

  “On it, lieutenant.”

  Alanna stared. It occurred to her she didn’t know what the sensors looked for. Was it light, movement, density where there used to be nothing? Another star flickered out of existence and returned. “Tom, do you see it?”

  “Not sure. Maybe. Whatever it is has to be black as night. Do the Tundrans paint their ships?”

  Alanna swallowed, her mouth tightening. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The proximity alarm went off, blaring into the silence. She reached out calmly, turning it off. By necessity, they never practiced step one of operation cherry pie. Step one was locking in the captain to avoid interference. There was no going back once they took that first step. Another star momentarily flickered out of existence. Perhaps he would sleep through it. Alanna moved towards the controls and activated the locking mechanism on the captain’s quarters. It was important that she do this herself. No one but her should be implicated by her actions. She opened the designated cherry pie channel. “This is lieutenant Alanna Summers. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. I want everyone at their stations. Take no action until my command. I repeat, take no action until my command.”

  Tom’s training was being put to good use and his fingers flew confidently over the controls. “We have speed and trajectory. Arrival time in just over nine minutes. Putting it up on the screen, now.”

  Alanna nodded. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mouth dry. A black ship. The Black Hawk. They had actually sent the bloody Black Hawk after their stupid little backwater station. Apparently, the Tundrans really wanted those giant diamond drills that only D12 could provide. Lucky, lucky her. But it was fine. They had a plan. According to the bits of intel her brother Jonno had been sharing with her, the Black Hawk crew took Avalon Station, a mining operation with forty stationed military personnel and at least as many civilians, without losing a single man. And when they were done, they sent every Sarayan on Avalon station home alive, in exchange for Tundran POWs held by Saraya. They were not incompetent. They were the best Tundra had to offer. She took a breath.

  “Tom.”

  “Alanna. What do you know about that ship?”

  “You’ve been great on the controls, Tom. I need you to back me up. Can you do that?”

  “You got that brilliant plan, lieutenant? The one that’ll get us home alive?” Tom asked, hope shining bright in his eyes.

  Alanna winced. Brilliant was definitely overstating it. “Open a channel.” She said, her eyes on the approaching black ship.

  Tom cleared his throat. “Like an unencrypted open channel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do what you gotta do, Alanna.” Tom said quietly. “We’re all with you. And you’re on.”

  Right. “This is lieutenant Alanna Summers. I want to speak to the captain of the Black Hawk.” Alanna was relieved to hear her voice, sounding reassuringly calm in her own ears. Silence stretched on as the timer on the screen counted down.

  8 minutes 20 seconds. 8 minutes 17 seconds.

  A short burst of static came through the speakers, followed by a curt “Standby.”

  More silence. 8 minutes 3 seconds.

  “This is captain James Hawk of the Black Hawk. Lieutenant Summers, would you like to discuss the terms of your surrender?”

  The universe froze. 7 minutes 54 seconds. Tom raised his eyebrows, waiting for her move. And that’s when Alanna wondered, just how much loyalty did she have to Central Command and Madame President Lorelai Achly? And how much did she want to give Tom a chance to see his new child? She looked over at Tom, who looked back at her, trusting her to protect the station. To protect him. To protect their people. She looked back up at the screen. “Yes.” She said.

  The Captain of the Black Hawk, true to his reputation, did not hesitate. “Lieutenant, will you go visual?”

  Alanna swallowed at the sound of the short, clipped Tundran accent coming through the station speakers. Turning around, she nodded to Tom. “Do it.” Her face took over the screen. To her surprise, the Tundrans mirrored the courtesy and Captain Hawk’s face appeared on the screen alongside her own. Young for his rank, Captain Hawk was as picture perfect as his reputation, an action figure soldier with generically handsome features and build. His black uniform was impeccable and his command chair looked like it never, ever squeaked. To Alanna, it all faded into the background. His sharp, intelligent gray eyes were the only thing that mattered. And they were focused entirely on her.

  “Lieutenant Summers, are you the commanding officer of this station?”

  “For all intents and purposes, yes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Is there a higher ranking officer on the station?”

  Alanna looked into his eyes and there was no warmth there, only a cold assessment edged with suspicion. “I am the officer in control of this station. Are you willing to negotiate?”

  “Lieutenant, if you want to negotiate a peaceful surrender, I want to help. A formal negotiation needs to involve the commanding officer of D12, but perhaps there is something we can work out.” His voice turned warm, reassuring. The eyes remained ice cold.

  6 minutes 22 seconds.

  They were not slowing down. She looked back at the screen. He thinks it’s a trap, she realized. He thinks it’s a trap and we’re stalling. He will not slow down his attack. We may be wasting precious time.

  “A moment, please.” She muted the open channel and went off video, switching to the encrypted channel dedicated to operation cherry pie. “The Tundrans are within range. I want everyone at their stations. Standby.” She switched back to the open channel. Captain Hawk was still there, waiting. There was still a chance. What the hell.

  “The commanding officer of this station is locked in his quarters by the unanimous decision of this crew. You are not slowing down your approach. If you continue on your trajectory, we will defend ourselves. My terms are as follows: the crew of this station will peacefully surrender. In return, they will be traded back at a rate of ten crew members per Tundran hostage held by Saraya. While they are within Tundran control, they will not be questioned or harmed. If unexpected circumstances arise, you will act in good faith to fulfill the terms of your agreement. My terms are non-negotiable. If you do not agree, we fight. There is no need for your crew members to die.”

  4 minutes, 12 seconds. Ice cold gray eyes bored into her.

  “If you do not surrender, all your crew members die.”

  “Possibly. All of mine, some of yours. And in a few cycles our guys will be back for the diamond drills. Slow down your approach or I’m not wasting any more of my time.” She would need to cut the connection soon but she wasn’t quite ready to give up so she stood looking at the screen, watching those ice gray eyes. By the way they were tracking across the screen, she realized he was reading as well as watching her. His crew was feeding him additional information.

  5 minutes 2 seconds. Alanna breathed a sigh of relief, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. They were slowing down.

  “I want to speak to the commanding officer.” Captain Hawk said flatly.

  Alanna shrugged. “Tom, patch the captain through.”

  Off screen, Tom mouthed “Seriously?”

  “Yes Tom, seriously.” What the hell, they wanted transparency? They were about to get radical transparency. “Captain Hawk by all means, knock yourself out. I’ll do the introductions. Captain Cyrus Mace, Captain Hawk of the Tundran military command would like to speak with you. You are on an open channel on my mark… now.”

  “Goddamn worthless whore bitch I will kill you I will skin you alive and space your skinless corpse let me out let me out let me out!”

  Tom dropped his head in his arms.

  Captain Hawk’s poker face cracked slightly, his lips twitching. “Captain Cyrus Mace, are you the commanding officer of this station?”

  “Of course I’m the goddamn commanding officer. I am the commanding captain and I will…”

  Captain Hawk cleared his throat. “Captain Mace, if there are any crew members that are loyal to you, now would be the time to request their assistance. We will wait.”

  7 minutes 38 seconds. The Black Hawk continued to slow their approach.

  They waited. Alanna smirked. She appreciated the attempt to create strife amongst the D12 crew. She also knew her people. She leaned back with an easy smile, waiting patiently.

  Captain Hawk waited as well, trying to mask his impatience. Surely the rightful commander of the station would be able to rally some crew members to his side? The potential for internal conflict on a station he was about to invade was too good an opportunity to pass up. And yet, there were no discernible signs of support for the captain of D12. There was only the unexpectedly smug Sarayan lieutenant looking back at him from his viewscreen. In the background, he could still hear Captain Mace’s continued muttering ‘Traitorous bitch wait until they court martial you, you will be begging to die before they’re through with you. I will personally ensure you live long enough to…’ If this was a stall, it was shockingly effective. Finally, his patience ran out. “Can someone just mute that, please?” He said.

  “Yessir.” Tom responded out loud, ignoring the narrow eyed look Alanna shot his way. Good to see her crew getting a head start on following the enemy’s orders.

  “I take it no one is coming to release him.” Captain Hawk said mildly.

  “It would be wildly unlikely.” Alanna agreed.

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  “Lieutenant Summers.” He paused. “Alanna. I say this to you as a gesture of good faith. I cannot negotiate with anyone other than the commanding officer of this station. You do not have the authority to agree to our terms.”

  Alanna sighed in exasperation. “You know, mob rule is recognized universally. It’s a very reliable form of governance.”

  “In practice perhaps, in a military tribunal, no.”

  “We’re just going to fix that for you, Captain.” Tom said firmly.

  Alanna glanced over at Tom, opening her mouth to protest. She paused. There was nothing she could say, and it was likely too late, anyway. She knew Tom had the cherry pie channel open so everyone on the station was following the negotiations. Captain Cyrus Mace was about to have that unfortunate accident everyone kept talking about. She glanced back at the screen, to see how Captain Hawk was taking it. The screen went black.

  “Tom?”

  “Alanna, I have no idea what happened. They just went dead.”

  The channel reopened, audio only. Captain Hawk’s voice came through, “Lieutenant Summers and D12 crew, if you want to continue negotiations, maintain video and audio contact at all times. Standby.”

  5 minutes, 20 seconds.

  Alanna frowned, looking at the readings on her screen. Were they speeding up? Maintaining visual and audio contact limited her options. Anything she said or did would be observed.

  5 minutes, 4 seconds.

  “Slow your approach or we cannot maintain visual audio contact.” She said sharply.

  There was a pause and an unfamiliar voice came through “This is Commander Henry Hodgins. We will slow our approach. Standby.”

  “Slow it by a lot, commander.”

  “We are slowing our approach. I want full visual. We want to see your hands. And Tom was it? We want to see your hands, too.”

  “Hey Henry, I’m real distracted on the controls here.” Tom said cheerfully. “Did you agree to our terms and I missed it? I’ll be following your orders just as soon as that happens.”

  Alanna’s fingers drummed on the control console. Something had spooked the Tundrans and she had no idea what it was. She turned in Tom’s direction, her eyes questioning.

  Tom shrugged, spreading his hands. Whatever it was the Tundrans thought they had done, it didn’t come from him.

  Her patience was wearing thin. “Ok, someone tell me what the hell is going on. Did we do something or do they think we did something?”

  “We didn’t do anything, lieutenant. Waiting for your orders.” Tom responded immediately.

  “Right. Henry my people say they didn’t do anything so whatever happened…” She paused. “Tom check the record for Captain Mace’s quarters.”

  “On it.” Tom hesitated. His face tightened. “A transmission was sent.” He typed out on his screen.

  Alanna spread her hands, waiting for Tom to tell her what the transmission said. Tom shrugged. No further information appeared to be forthcoming.

  “This is ridiculous. We are fully committed to cooperating but we cannot maintain audio and visual contact unless you…”

  “A transmission was sent out.” The voice of Commander Henry Hodgins interrupted her. “Would you like to hear it?”

  4 minutes, 22 seconds.

  Who’s stalling now, Alanna thought. They slowed down but they were still drifting inexorably towards D12. If the Black Hawk continued to move closer, there wouldn’t be enough time to prepare their defenses. This wasn’t going anywhere. And if the Black Hawk sped up now, her people may not have enough time to prepare. They would need to cut off negotiations. She was about to speak when a new voice interrupted.

  “This is Captain James Hawk. We are not slowing down. Our terms are as follows, and there will be no negotiations. We accept the ten to one exchange and your people will not be physically harmed. You will all be questioned at our discretion. You will be coming under my command. You will obey every order and provide us with full access to the station and station records. Both sides will act in good faith to fulfill their terms of the bargain. Do you agree to these terms?”

  “All access other than classified military information.” Alanna responded instinctively.

  There was a pause and she thought she lost them. She cut off visual and audio contact herself. “Operation Cherry Pie is on, get the two guns ready on my ma…”

  “We accept the limitation on classified military information. Reopen visual and audio contact.” Captain Hawk’s voice came clearly through the station speakers.

  Alanna froze, her hand shaking slightly. This was happening. She reopened contact. “I want to see Commander Henry Hodgins.”

  The puzzled face of Commander Hodgins filled the screen. “What?” He asked.

  “Do you believe your captain will keep his word?” Alanna asked.

  He cocked his head, somewhat surprised to be involved in the negotiations. “The captain will keep his word.” He said.

  “Alanna?” Tom looked over at her. “It’s your call.”

  Alanna took a deep breath, stepped away from the command console, and placed her hands in front of her. “Station D12 personnel, stand down. We surrender. I repeat, we surrender. Stand down and cooperate with all orders.” And just like that, for better or worse, it was all over. She glanced up at the screen. 2 minutes, 2 seconds.

  “Alanna, they’re here.”

  “What? No they’re two minutes away…”

  “They’re using camouflaged drones. They’re here.”

  ---

  The Tundrans moved in with ruthless efficiency. The drones swarmed the station, diligently recording every nook and cranny and sending the data back to the Black Hawk. They were not black. Whatever paint they used on the drones matched closely with the glassy rough texture of D12. Camouflaged drones, just as Tom had said. Each one had six gun barrels, swiveling independently of one another. At least one of the barrels remained trained on her at all times, swiveling back and forth as Alanna paced the length of the control room, musing on the exact meaning and limitations of “will not be physically harmed.” What other kinds of harms were there? There was psychological harm. Did sleep deprivation count? It was just about possible she had not fully thought this through.

  She looked from the screen into the barrel of the drone’s gun. The complete lack of privacy and having a gun trained on her at all times was becoming a serious problem. And it had only been a few hours. It took all her self-control not to reach for the grip of her gun, resting comfortably against her leg. It would take three well placed rounds to take out the drone. Of course, she would likely get shot in the process, but all things considered, it could be a perfectly satisfying way to go. Once again, her hand drifted down towards her pocket, the grip of the gun reassuringly close. She stood up straighter, lacing her fingers in front of her and ignoring the look of concern Tom shot her way. It wasn’t time yet.

  Not everyone on D12 had the honor of their own personal drone but all station personnel were being questioned remotely by the Black Hawk crew. Once all civilian login credentials were collected, they moved on to detailed questions of every crew member’s duties, gleaning detailed insights on the day to day operations of the station. So far, all work was being handled remotely. Not a single member of the Black Hawk crew stepped foot on D12. Alanna had the honor of being remotely questioned by Commander Hodgins and was doing her best to ignore the gun barrel pointed at her face and cooperate.

  “What is the total number of station personnel?” Henry asked, his eyes cast down on the console as he undoubtedly prepared to take diligent notes.

  “Forty one.” Alanna responded patiently.

  Henry paused. “Forty one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Military personnel?”

  “One.”

  “So just you?”

  “Just me.”

  The questions went on and on. Alanna was impressed and somewhat horrified by how effectively they switched from an invading force to questions relating to effective peacetime operations. They wanted production numbers, technical questions that began with armaments but soon moved on to an overview of mining equipment and life support. Someone on the station clearly had enough mining experience to know the right questions to ask.

  Several hours later, Henry leaned back in his chair, stretching. “This has been helpful lieutenant, thank you. Any chance you want to assist us with the transmission?”

  “The Captain Mace transmission? The one that got through your jamming signal and went back to Saraya? Just reading between the lines here, based on how hot and bothered you all are about it.” Alanna appreciated that the Tundran commander’s question had been in the form of a request, rather than something more. The transmission likely was classified military information. Had they demanded an answer from her, they would be breaking the terms of the agreement already. But he had merely asked. “I would be curious to hear it.” She said neutrally.

  “This is all our sensors picked up.” Henry put it up over the speakers. The message began with a short burst of static, followed by a longer burst and two shorter ones. Tundran signal jams were essentially noise, blocking any substantive information from getting out. This transmission was a combination of silence and sound, with the sound having no discernible pattern. Just static and silence.

  Alanna’s eyebrow lifted. “Yes, I know the code.”

  “You do?” Commander Hodgins looked surprised, although it wasn’t clear whether at her knowledge or her admission.

  Alanna stared glumly at the drone’s gun barrel. “Yes.”

  “You going to share?”

  “Captain Hawk knows the code.”

  Commander Hodgins gave her a doubtful look, clearly ready to protest.

  Alanna rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Tell him he knows the code. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  ---

  “She says you know the code.” Commander Henry Hodgins walked into Captain James Hawk’s office without knocking.

  James looked up. It had been an odd day and apparently the future held more of the same. “The transmission code? With the static bursts? I don’t…” He paused. “Play it again.” His fingers moved over his keyboard as he listened. “One moment.” He leaned back in his chair, a distinctly displeased look on his face.

  “She’s right, you know the code?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “And?”

  “Morse code. It was used by the old earth navy.” He paused, his face tightening. “And it was unencrypted. The message was ‘Lt Summers traitor. Station lost.’ ”

  “James.” Henry winced. “That’s bad. And there’s more.”

  “What else?”

  “There are forty one people on the station.”

  “I see.”

  “I told her she could trust you. I looked her in the eyes. You need to fix this.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “She’s an officer in the Sarayan navy Henry, not a damsel in distress. And as I recall, you said I would keep my word. That’s not quite the same as trust.” He shrugged. “Her terms were ten to one exchange. The terms she negotiated are impossible for us to fulfill. That’s on her.”

  Henry shook his head, a stubborn look in his eyes. “Ok. You still need to fix this.”

  James sighed. “I will. Later. It’s time to move our people in.”

  “How are you going to fix it?” Henry asked, not quite ready to let it go.

  “Commander.” James said sharply. “We are about to send our people into enemy territory. Focus.”

  “Do you really think it’s a trap?”

  James spread his hands. “If I were to place a bet, no I don’t think it’s a trap. But if I’m right no one gets hurt and if I’m wrong, our people die. So we will all, all of us Henry, operate on the assumption that it’s a trap. And I want eyes on the charming Lieutenant Summers at all times. If she so much as twitches, take her out. We can sort it out when she regains consciousness, unarmed and secured in a cell.”

  -----

  “They’re not going to shoot us just for walking around, Alanna. You need anything, you just ask.” Tom’s worried eyes studied her closely.

  Alanna shook her head slightly. “Tom, you’ve been spectacular. I couldn’t wish for a better second in command.”

  “I’ll get you some water. We may as well drink what we have.” Tom said stubbornly.

  She nodded, accepting the water Tom brought her. There was indeed no need to worry about rations. She raised the sealed container. “To your safe journey home.” She said. She had no plans to return. Sarayan Central Command had barely allowed her to live as one of the few surviving heroes of the biggest battle of the war. They weren’t going to let her live after she surrendered D12 to the Tundrans. And Alanna had some very specific suspicions about the nature of the message Captain Mace had sent out.

  Tom’s mouth tightened in frustration, but he said nothing. They were being observed too closely.

  A brief burst of static preceded the Tundrans turning on their audio. Commander Henry Hodgins’ voice came on. “We’re sending a shuttle, prepare to evacuate.”

  Tom raised his eyebrows, his eyes on Alanna. “They’re playing it slow and careful.” He said out loud. What did it matter if they heard?

  “They can play it however they like.” Alanna opened the cherry pie channel, a somewhat redundant gesture as everyone on D12 was already listening in to everything happening on the bridge. “This is lieutenant Alanna Summers. You heard our new friends. Please cooperate fully. Your actions may endanger the rest. We need your full and complete cooperation. Let’s get you all home, people.” She looked down at her hands, her fingers carefully interlaced in her lap. She waited.

  Much like their drones, when the Tundrans moved in, they moved fast. They came in full tactical gear, vacuum rated. Spacing them would not have worked unless her people managed to damage their suits first. They would have taken out some of the Tundrans, but fewer than she expected. They were that good. Not that it mattered so much, now. With their newly acquired access credentials, the Tundrans were taking over station controls, including the speakers. The evacuation instructions were coming directly from them now, on a continuous loop. “The evacuation will proceed imminently. Lay down your arms, walk slowly with your hands visible at all times.”

  Tom got up, looking back at her. Alanna looked down at her hands. It was time.

  They were being herded into the shuttle, drones and Tundran forces flanking them on all sides. Alanna let others move ahead of her. She wasn’t going down with the station, but it was her place to go last. No one objected. Her right hand rested at her side, her heart beating like a hammer in her chest. She was suddenly, intensely aware of every smell, every sound. The stale, recycled air of the station, the quiet hum of conversation, her people sounding nervous and scared. A blast of cold air from the Tundran shuttle. Several people turned around, saluting her before entering the shuttle. Tom stood close. Momentarily, his bulk partially shielded her from one of the drones but another one immediately moved into position on her other side.

  This was going to get ugly. There was no time to aim for her head. Her throat tightened. The killing round would need to go up and through her heart and if she angled it wrong, it was going to get damn messy and unpleasant. Over half the miners were already on the shuttle. Tom slowed down his steps even further. Alanna’s hand reached for her gun. The barrel of one of the drones moved at the same time, focusing directly on her. The world went black.