Peter Telep - Pilgrim stars

Maniac watched her go, then resignedly faced Blair. "Goddamned bitches, man."

"That's your problem right there. They're all objects to you, objects to be conquered. It's never about them. It's always about you."

"This from a guy who can't even get a woman who already likes him into bed."

"Who said I wanted to bed her?"

"Last time I looked you were a man."

"I want to say grow up. But then you'd be boring."

A grin slowly flickered across Maniac's lips. "I would."

They started for the hatch to flight control as more civvies continued to emerge from the shuttles. At the hatch, Blair paused a second to gaze across the hangar. "How many you think we saved?"

Maniac shrugged. "Couple hundred, maybe."

"Couple hundred from five or six mill. And you want to have a picnic?"

Captain Paul Gerald leaned on a gurney in sick bay, staring at the mother and daughter who had been aboard the shuttle brought in by Angel's patrol. The survivors had been floating for nearly three days, and once aboard they had showered, changed, devoured the sandwiches the medics had brought them, and had each downed nearly a half gallon of water. Gerald had been at their bedsides for nearly fifteen minutes now, attempting to subtly interrogate them. But a puzzling fact regarding the attack wore down his diplomacy, and he repeatedly directed them back to it.

"Are we done yet, Captain?" the mother asked. She had introduced herself as Iridessa Long, president of Mylon's largest hydroponics co-op, president of nothing now. Her combative demeanor reminded Gerald of his estranged ex-wife. The fact that she resembled Brenna made it all the more difficult for Gerald to control his temper.

"No, we are not done yet," he told her. "I need you to think hard about them. Are you absolutely certain they were Confederation Naval officers?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's see now. I've told you that, what? Four times? I've heard that military minds are dense, but I assumed that was just a stereotype. I guess you'll be wanting me to draw you a picture now, eh? I can't believe that my hard-earned tax money pays for people like you."

"Ma'am, we're just trying to learn what happened."

"What happened is that some of your people launched an unprovoked attack and massacred civilians."

"Mom, please…" the daughter said from the next bed. Only fourteen, Janey Long seemed more upset with her mother's embarrassing behavior than with what had just happened to her homeworld. Gerald understood her reaction, at least a little. When he saw his daughter Sandy during R amp;Rs, the thirteen-year-old continually warned him not to humiliate her in front of her peers, which meant that Gerald could only smile when greeting them and dare not mouth a word of criticism. Yes, he knew that drill all too well.

"My daughter seems to think I'm being too harsh with you, Captain Gerald. She fails to remember how harsh the Confederation military has been with us!"

"Mom!"

Gerald raised a palm in truce. "I know this is rough, and I know that I've been asking the same questions, but we have to know every detail. Is there anything else you can remember? Anything?"

Iridessa bit her lower lip and whispered a curse. "You got our story. All of it. Now why don't you go figure out why these people attacked, why they took some of us prisoner while murdering others, and where the hell they are?"

"I assure you, ma'am. We're already on that. Now the CS Scrimshaw will arrive shortly to ferry you and the other survivors to Ymir. I hate to say this, but you'll probably have to repeat your story to authorities there."

"And the news just keeps getting better." Iridessa exhaled loudly in disgust. "Tell you what. When we survivors get done suing you, the Confederation will be bankrupt. Count on that."

We have insurance, Gerald thought, though he wouldn't dare stoke her fire by uttering that. He nodded, spun, and hightailed out of there.

Angel waited for him by the hatch. "Captain. Just launched three patrols to continue the search, and I've finished debriefing my squadron. I know you've been busy here, so I thought I'd come and tell you myself."

"That report hardly warrants your presence." Gerald stepped past her and into the passageway."

"Permission to speak candidly, sir?"

"Go ahead."

"What's going on? Are we on a need-to-know here?"

"Yes, we are."

"Raznick's people just broke up a riot on the flight deck. Some of those survivors attacked our medics. Why don't you put an end to the rumors before they get out of hand."

"I'm not at liberty to do that."

"The survivors are saying Confed troops attacked. They took prisoners. I don't understand."

"To be frank, neither do I. But I'm sure we will." He nodded. "Commander." Quickening his pace, he hoped to evade any more of her questions.

"Captain?"

He gritted his teeth, paused, faced her. "Yes, Commander?"

"How many Pilgrims do you think are aboard that super-cruiser?"

"Pilgrims?" He shook his head and abandoned her scrutiny.

VEGA SECTOR.DOWNING QUADRANT.SNAKEIR CLASS SUPERDREADNOUGHT KIS SHAK AR'ROC.KMREK SYSTEM.

2654.079.1930 HOURS IMPERIAL STANDARD TIME

Admiral Vukar nar Caxki rose from his command chair as Flight Leader Norj'ach of Black Claw Squadron limped his way from the lift, his bad leg the result of an old challenge. His narrow escape from the supercruiser had actually taken little toll. His color held a perfect sallow, and his eyes radiated with the fire of Sivar. "Kalralahr. I submit myself for punishment."

Vukar gave a solemn nod as nutrient gas jetted from his flaring nostrils. "I have reviewed your flight record. But before I permit you the honor of zu'kara, tell me in your own words what you saw."

"I saw our ConCom explode, then two of our battle group's destroyers were pulled into a gravity well, along with Torshk and Gold Claw Squadron. I barely escaped the well. The rest of my squadron met their fates. They fought bravely. Every name must be added to the temples of our ancestors. Every name but mine."

"And from what I have gathered from your flight record, this well was created by an unmarked Confederation supercruiser. Is that correct?"

"It is, my Kalralahr."

"Impossible. The Terrans' jump-drive requires the presence of natural rifts in the space-time continuum."

Norj'ach's gaze lowered to the deck. "I tell you only what I saw."

Tactical officer Makorshk nar Caxki crossed the Shak'Ar'Roc's bridge to arrive at Vukar's side. "Kalralahr, if I may speak?"

Vukar regarded the subordinate with mild disdain. Makorshk had a reputation for voicing his opinion despite his meager rank of second fang. But on more than one occasion, Vukar had found useful truth in the young warrior's thoughts. If only Makorshk would come to him in private instead of forcing Vukar to favor him before the others. "Speak."

"The Terrans do possess another drive system."

"Of course they do. Sub-light impulse drives. But those do not create gravity wells."

"My studies of their history will prove valuable now, my Kalralahr. The hopper drive, developed late in their twenty-second century, produced a localized matter-antimatter reaction that resulted in a temporary space-time well in its immediate area. I believe that is what our task force encountered."

"I, too, have studied the apes. Hopper drives were extremely dangerous. The Terrans could not engage them near gravity-generating objects, and they were slow, requiring eighteen of their hours between jumps. The distances traversed were less than half a light year. They would be foolhardy to rely on such volatile devices."

"But it seems they've discovered a way to control the matter-antimatter reaction and a way to neutralize the gravitic interference created by nearby systems or ships." He raised his voice over the hum of instruments. "They could jump into our space, fly close to one of our worlds, generate their gravity well, then jump out while the well consumes the planet the same way it consumed our task force."