Excerpt
The alarms aboard the Starship Gemini were deafening. That's how Skip Sutridge, Captain Exquisite, liked it. He wanted his thoughts drowned in the endless stars. He wanted the panic of his crew to overwhelm his mind, until all that was left was instinct. The instinct to pull the trigger, to push the button, to start a war—or end one.
The Starship Gemini hung in orbit of Sonata V, its twin Infinite engines turned off. It drifted around that blackened globe, burned to a crisp in some ancient battle. The weight of the weaponry on the left rocket made it coast that planet with a slight tilt. The weight of a decision to act rested with Skip alone. He'd been made to share this vessel, but he wouldn't share command of a battle. Maggie Antwa, Commander of Gemini Right, had no authority there.
The space barge came into focus on the viewscreen, with most of it extending far off out of their field of vision. It didn't drift. It sat in the stillness of space, unmoving, exerting a subtle gravity of its own. Its grey metal was shrouded in shadow. Its lights were off. That was always a bad sign. It either meant the crew were dead or they were planning to kill you. More often than not for Skip Sutridge, General Extraordinaire, it was the latter.
"Wait," Maggie said over the intercom. He didn't like her voice, her calm, her certainty. The only surety was in the trigger. Shoot and shoot later. Never ask questions. Never give answers.
"It's a threat," Skip replied through gritted teeth. He kept his finger dangling. The only thing that held it back was the knowledge of how this had panned out last time. His crew were starting to listen to her, listen to "reason," whatever that was. He remembered the awe with which they viewed him when he first came on board. That was fading fast.
"We don't know that yet," Maggie pointed out. She liked pointing out things, everything but the enemy's weaknesses. She always wanted to know more, to probe further, to prod deeper. Skip thought a laser could do that just fine.
Even from this far off, Skip could see the giant storage containers piled high across the space barge, held in place with a powerful magnetic hull. It was so potent it tugged even at the Gemini, threatening to separate the twins. Skip almost didn't mind. All the weaponry was on his side of the ship. Only the two giant fighters joined those rockets together, connecting the Infinite engines, letting them travel farther than one alone.
"Just … give me a minute," Maggie urged. He could hear the beeps of buttons in the background as her fingers worked frantically. Skip only needed one button. As the seconds grew old and died, his finger got a little closer. He wondered how many wars began with gravity.
"There," Maggie said, sending across a report from her scanners. The overlay added a lot of text and faded schematics on the viewscreen, making the colossal space barge look a little less daunting.
"No crew?" Skip asked.
"No life signs."
He didn't like how she said that, as if it meant something else. She was always correcting him. Life had been hell since she boarded. He wouldn't have been surprised if she picked up nothing from him as well.
"What's in the containers?"
More beeps and finger-bashing. "It looks like … some kind of waste."
"Waste?"
"Nuclear."
"Oh."
"Just as well you didn't fire, huh?" Her smug laugh was cut short. "Wait." She always waited. That was her trouble, and she was his.
By the time she noticed the incoming missile, she barely had time to put up the shields on her side of the vessel. It was just as well Skip had noticed. It was just as well he'd fired first.
