Fearful Symmetry: A Terran Empire novelWilson, Ann
Science
Fearful Symmetry: A Terran Empire novel
Wilson, Ann
Science fiction
"I'm not too fond of it myself," Tarlac admitted, "but I can't see any
way out. This was a beautiful trap. They've made sure the Empire
loses a Ranger, one way or another, but if Arjen's being honest, at
least it keeps a cruiser and crew. And you know as well as I do that
if there's any chance of ending this slaughter, I have to take it." He
grinned fleetingly. "I guess this is one way to find out what they're
really like. While I'm suiting up, squirt-transmit a copy of the log
to Terra, would you? The socio specs may be able to dig something
useful out of what he said."
"Yes, sir." Willis stood, bleakly aware that the loss of an IBC would
be minor next to the loss of a Ranger. If she could have saved him by
sacrificing the Lindner, she wouldn't have hesitated. But, as usual,
the Ranger was right; in combat there were bound to be heavy losses
occasionally, and in such cases the best that could be done was to save
what little was possible. "Ah . . . will you be going armed?"
Tarlac grinned, almost grimly. "It probably won't mean much, but yes.
He called me a guest, and I'm going to act as if I believe him. That
means full uniform, including gun." He took a last slow look around
the bridge, then extended a hand to Willis. "Good luck, Jean. See you
after the war."
"You too, Steve. It's been an honor captaining your ship." Willis'
grip was tighter than usual, echoing the tension on the bridge, and it
gave the Ranger the distinct impression she didn't expect to see him
again. Honesty compelled him to admit to himself that he was less
optimistic than he tried to appear.
"It won't be suicide, you know," he said, speaking now to the entire
bridge crew. "As I said earlier, if they just wanted me dead, they'd
have vaporized the Lindner as soon as we out-transitioned." He
hesitated, remembering something. "Oh, yeah. Mister Olorun, how much
did we miss their phony beacon by?"
"Twelve point nine kilometers, sir," the young officer replied,
subdued.
Tarlac whistled softly in honest admiration, then dug into a beltpouch
and flipped the Helmsman a five-credit piece. "Empress Lindner?"
"Yes, Ranger?" The ship's voice was feminine, slightly metallic.
"Log my commendation for Ensign Olorun's piloting, and have a shuttle
ready to take me to Personnel Lock Three."
There was a barely-noticeable pause, then the ship-comp said, "Done,
Ranger," as one of the three bridge doors slid open. Tarlac left the
silent control room and entered the intraship shuttle that was waiting
for him.
With the ship at General Quarters, the Ranger found the personnel lock
deserted. That was fine with him. Suiting up was easier with help,
but he didn't care for company just then; he began the ten-minute
process of donning and checking his suit alone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account