Кристофер Банч - Vortex

"Right. Ah hae it noo. Away wi' y' lad."

And Sten was running for the Victory's hangar.

The tacship flashed out from the Victory's port and, barely clear of the mother ship, went to full AM2 drive.

"What's the IP?"

La Ciotat didn't need to look at a screen.

"Fifty-three… fifty-one minutes, sir."

"Fine." Sten sat at the weapons officer's station, adjusting the control helmet to his own head.

"Here's the drill. The Caligula is headed back for Jochi. It's going to launch a planet buster."

La Ciotat, priding herself on her poker face, wasn't able to control her expression. "But what—is Admiral Mason mutinying, or—"

"You do not need to know, Ms. I want you to hold a closing course on the Caligula and have your com person keep an open link to the Victory . I want you to notify me when we're within… five minutes of the Caligula . Do you have any trouble with those orders?"

"No, sir."

"Keep us from getting tagged by the destroyers. I'm pretty sure they'll have orders to stop us."

" That's not even a concern. Sir."

Sten almost smiled—it sounded like La Ciotat was drakh-hot.

" Caligula , this is Victory . Admiral Mason, this is Sten, over."

"Still no response."

" Caligula , this is Sten, over. Patch me to your Six Actual. That is an order, over.''

"Seven minutes to intercept, sir."

"Goddammit…"

The screen on the tacship suddenly cleared, and Sten saw Mason's face.

Mason—or so Sten hoped, at least—would be seeing Sten, or a computer synthesis of Sten, back on the bridge of the Victory and never think that his response had been almost immediate and that he was, in fact, aboard a tacship bare minutes behind the Caligula .

"Admiral Mason, I think I understand your mission," Sten began.

"I am under orders, sir, to not discuss my assignment with anyone."

"I am not interested in discussing, Mason. This is not a de-Dating society. And I know that you've been told to bust Jochi.

"You can't do it."

"I have my orders, sir."

"Did you verify them? Mason, do you want to be the first man in—who the hell knows how long?—to wipe out a planet? Not everybody down there's loony, Mason."

The on-screen figure made no response.

"I see no point in continuing this transmission," Mason said finally, mechanically.

"Mason… stand by for one moment…"

Sten closed his mike and pulled the weapons helmet down over his head. "Ms. La Ciotat, I am launching the Kali."

"Yessir. At full drive… IP will be one point three minutes… ship IP is now two minutes."

Sten touched the red key on the weapons panel—the only physical act that he needed to do.

The monstrous missile was launched from a tube that was the tacship's spine. It was twenty meters long, and its warhead was a sixty-megaton deathstrike.

The missile spat out from the tacship, and Sten aimed it through the helmet at the rapidly closing tiny constellation that was the Caligula and her escorts, holding at three-quarter drive.

He opened his eyes, and Mason ghosted at him on-screen.

"This is my last attempt, Admiral Mason. You know you're working for a madman. We just heard—the Emperor had Mahoney shot."

Mason's eyes flickered, then he became the automaton once again.

Sten tried once more—knowing it was futile. "Look, man. Do you want your name to go down like this? Mason the planet-killer?"

Mason suddenly almost-smiled. "Sten, that is the difference between us. You think that you have some sort of god-given privilege to judge what orders you should or should not obey. That's seditious behavior, and you know it. Maybe that's why Mahoney was executed. Did you ever consider that? I'm following direct Imperial orders, mister. No, Sten, I'll not be the traitor. Mason, clear.''

The screen was blank.

Sten closed his eyes and became only the Kali. He hit full emergency.

"Closing… closing…" he dimly heard La Ciotat's chant.

"You are spotted… you broke a DD's screen… I have a Fox-launch… closing… prog cannot intercept… Closing… Target impact… Mark!"

Sten's world fireballed.

He pulled the control helmet off and saw, on screen, the Caligula cease to exist. There had been a hint of an explosion, and then simply nothing. The screen might as well have been trying to look into a black hole. He wondered if the Kali had sympathetically detonated the planet buster.

He guessed the Caligula's destroyers would still be trying to launch countermissiles, if any of them had survived—the screen stayed dark, overloaded.

He didn't care. Evading them was La Ciotat's job.

"That's it, Ms.," he said, tiredly. "Back to the Victory ."

Mason died as he lived—following orders.

Sten did not give much of a damn about that.

But more than three thousand beings had died with him—and Sten doubted there would ever be a monument to them, out here, in the darkness and silence of interstellar space.

Sten was still on automatic. Back aboard the Victory he had gone to the bridge and numbly given the order to secure from general quarters.

"We're frae th' hangman now, son," Kilgour said. His voice was low. But it dashed Sten back to reality.

He looked at his friend. The Scot's round face was as calm as if he were discussing dinner arrangements.

Sten glanced around the bridge of the Victory . It was suddenly crowded.

There was Otho with a knot of Bhor. The wiry forms of the Gurkhas, headed by Lalbahadur Thapa. And many others.

Faces he remembered—but names he shamefully didn't.

And there was Cind.

The expression on her face was the same as the others. Expectant. Waiting for his decision.

Sten wiped moisture from his eyes.

They were with him—all of them.

Sten badly wanted to haul Cind into his arms. He wanted to be comforted, soothed.

He wanted soft lies that everything would be well.

Then the full force of what he had just done hit him.

Sten was an outlaw, now.

And through his actions he had damned all these trusting souls.

Soon, the Eternal Emperor would learn of Sten's betrayal and loose his coursing hounds.

Sten had to run. They all had to run.

He started to speak. He knew dozens of places to hide. Sten only had to choose and issue the coordinates.

He stopped.

No place was safe. Eventually, the Emperor's forces would run them to ground.

Sten looked around at the loyal faces again. There might be others.

He thought of Sr. Ecu. And his proposal.

What was the use?

He wished Mahoney were there. Ian would have known what to do. He would have said, Quit your whining, lad. You've got your health. You've your lady. You've got that ugly Scot, Alex Kilgour. And many other loyal friends. And you've got a bloody great battlewagon. The Emperor's own ship!

At that moment, Jemedar Lalbahadur whispered to his group. They all snapped to.

In the formal, Kukris raised Gurkha salute. "We are at your command. Sah!"

And Sten decided.

If he ran, the Emperor would get him.

So he had to get the Eternal Emperor first.

Sten issued the orders.