Premonitions

I blinked. I was still alive.

“Into the belly of the beast,” I heard Emiko murmuring.

Nightwing initiated subspace flight.

There was no time for doubt. If I was right about what I had just seen, it would happen again in the next few seconds.

“The beast knows we’re here,” I rasped. Then I screamed, “Course correction!”

Diane didn’t wait for Emiko to respond. She must have sensed my urgency, because she slammed her terminal and overrode Emiko’s controls. Nightwing reemerged from subspace and groaned into a nosedive away from the carriers.

There they were. Above us. The orbs of plasma that had incinerated Nightwing in my vision. We ducked beneath them as they collided and beamed like a magnesium torch. The shields protecting Nightwing shimmered and died.

“Shield failure!” Vladimir roared.

“They’ve figured out the gambit. Of course they have, they’re fucking imperials. We have to bug out,” Diane growled. “Vlad, rout what’s left of the power to the cannons to the LH drive. Stephen, safety the railgun.”

Nightwing tunneled back into subspace. The Caerleon battleships dotting the holomap near Diane’s terminal faded as the corvette exited the solar system, but several red dots still trailed behind the ship.

“Fighters are still after us,” Emiko reported. “Caerleon ships can follow if they tag us.”

“We’ll lose them,” Diane replied. “Vlad, give us suppressing fire to our rear. Emiko, prep for flash drop and reentry.”

“You’re going to fire live rounds in subspace?” I gasped, incredulous. “How many rules of engagement–”

“All of them!” Diane roared. “Fire!”

Combat in subspace, in wormholes worked differently than normal. Space was entangled here, and for lack of a better description (as I am no quantum physicist), weapons do not move perpetually in one direction. They can bounce off the “walls” of the wormhole, they can phase out and back in at different entry points, they can misfire and snap a full one eighty degrees and hit you instead. Even in the event that you land a hit on a target, that target might spin out of control, flail around, and cause you trouble in unexpected ways.

Diane evidently did not care about any of these possibilities. Nightwing’s cannons unloaded into the autonomous spacecraft barreling behind us. Several of them caught fire and winked out of the tunnel. The surviving crafts fired back. Machine gun tracers whiffed past Nightwing. The tension in the bridge vanished. The density of thoughts in my mind lightened.

“Small arms fire,” Vladimir breathed. “The plating will hold against this.”

“Let’s focus on getting out of here then,” Diane said. “Emiko, ready?”

“Two short burst jumps,” Emiko answered. “Coming right up.”

Nightwing decelerated back to normal space. The autonomous fighters didn’t follow. In the time it took for their onboard computers to realize their target had dropped out of subspace, we had already charted our next escape vector and accelerated beyond their reach.

Diane snapped her fingers.

“Bridge Mode. Off,” she commanded. “We’re in the clear.”

Leaving Bridge Mode was like robbing my eyes of color, which was weird to think about because not only had I experienced it for less than a few minutes, everybody aboard Nightwing had almost died during the battle. But being torn from the connection with the other members aboard the bridge slowed time to a lethargic crawl.

“You,” Diane pointed at me. “IFA hotshot. We need to talk. Now.”

Shit. I counted the number of times I had spoken out of turn during combat. Double shit. Diane stepped out of the captain’s chair and motioned to the corridor that led out of the bridge. Was she taking me to some confinement cell?

Diane spoke as soon as we were out of earshot.

“Never speak about what you saw just now.”

“You mean the–”

“What does the word ‘never’ mean?” the captain sighed. “Do you have a name? I don’t want to keep calling you ‘the IFA graduate.’”

“Elaine Greymoor,” I answered. “What’s the point of hiding it? Everyone should have experienced it during Bridge Mode.”

“No. What you experienced exceeds Bridge Mode’s acceptable threshold for shared neural load,” Diane said. “No one else but me could see it.”

“And so you saw it how?”

“Because I’m special,” Diane shrugged. “Now, if I’ve made myself clear, then let’s get back to the bridge. They’re all probably wondering what punishment I’m giving you. What do you think it should be?”

“How about nothing?” I scoffed. “I saved everyone aboard.”

“Technically, you were the one who suggested we go after the operating controls on the carriers,” Diane mused. “So you saved us after almost getting us all killed.”

We returned to the bridge. Diane motioned for her crew to approach.

“Everyone this is… Elaine… Greymoor,” she mouthed, as if she had already forgotten. “By virtue of auspicious happenstance, she is the latest addition to our little team. Elaine, this is the crew.”

Diane pointed at the man with the eyepatch.

“This is Stephen,” she announced. “Munitions, maintenance, repairs. He’s also in charge of cleaning the latrine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Stephen offered a hand. “Feels like we’ve already met though, haven’t we?”

“During Bridge Mode?” I asked.

“Yeah who needs formal introductions when I can just invade your head?” he chuckled. “Based on what I saw, you’ll fit right in with the rest of us wackjobs.”

“Moving on,” Diane rolled her eyes. “This is Vladimir. Chief engineer. Engine room and shielding.”

Unlike Stephen’s rugged clothes and unkempt hair, Vladimir stood upright in pristine, regalesque clothing. He bowed.

“A pleasure,” he said.

“And you already know Emiko,” Diane motioned to the navigations officer. “Navigations. Mans the gun because Stephen’s too much of a coward.”

“I take offense to that! The real reason is I can’t aim for shit.”

“That was impressive,” I said. “I’ve never seen a human compute that many command level inputs like that.”

“Bridge mode allows us to share spare neural load across each of the crew members,” Emiko smiled. “It’s easy to coordinate when you’re using more than one brain.”

“Just so you know, she’s implying that the rest of you brainless dolts don’t think enough,” Diane moaned. “Well, that’s essentially everyone. It’s a bit late, but welcome to Nightwing, Elaine.”

It didn’t slip my mind that Captain Diane Lunova hadn’t introduced herself. But I let it go. For now.

“Wait a moment,” I interjected. “Now that I’m allowed to ask rhetorical questions again, I just want to hear you say it. This is the original Nightwing, yes? The ship that was allegedly lost during the Siege of Caerleon, with all hands?”

“That’s right.” Diane replied.

“How did you survive?”
“Classified military secret,” Diane replied.

“And the heroes of the battle have been doing what all this time?” I wondered aloud. “Pillaging Caerleon space all these years?”

“That sounds kind of dishonorable when you put it that way.”

“Why not return to the imperium?” I asked. “Has Ulysses blackmailed all of you? Did he commission explosive collars strapped around your necks?”

Nightwing’s crew exchanged confused looks.

“What reason do we have to Caerleon space at all? We’re supposed to be dead,” Diane scoffed. “Besides, we just exchanged fire with the imperial military. I doubt they’d roll out the champagne and celebrations for us now.”

“Yes, fine, but why the Sunless Fleet? They’re the enemy.”

“Are they?” Diane raised an eyebrow. “Why are they the enemy? Because they’re enemies of the state? Because they’re pirates? Is it because they behave unseemly when they pillage worlds that Caerleon has abandoned? What is a pirate but someone who violates intergalactic maritime law, law set by none other than the imperium? Tell me, have they shot at us like the Caerleon military did?”

“Actually, yes,” I answered. “The Phalanx? During the battle? She shot at you.”

Diane pouted.

“Okay you got me there,” she said. “But one emotionally stunted bitch doesn’t make the fleet, or Ulysses for that matter, my enemies. Everyone aboard Circe who works their share, earns their share. You should keep that in mind the next time we see them. Calm that overbite of yours if you can.”

“The rest of you,” Diane turned to the rest of her crew. “We’ll be in subspace for the next half day. How you spend your time until then is your business, but I expect to see all of you when we debrief aboard Circe. Dismissed.”

“Finally,” Stephen stretched his limbs. “Vladdie, let’s hit the lounge. I need a drink.”

“Go check on the railgun first.”

“It’s not going anywhere,” Stephen tossed an arm over Vladimir. “Besides, I’ll do an infinitely better job with a glass of rum in my liver.”

Someone tapped my shoulder.

“Let me bring you to your quarters,” Emiko whispered.

I followed the navigations officer out of the bridge. We boarded the elevator with Stephen and Vladimir, who got off a level before we did. The two of us remained silent until we were alone.

“Did something happen?” Emiko asked. “During Bridge Mode.”

I remembered what Diane had told me.

“What do you mean?”

“You asked the captain to cut off my terminal,” Emiko stated as a matter of fact. Then she repeated, “Did something happen?”

“Well,” I stammered. “I didn’t ask, you see–”

“Forget it,” Emiko laughed. “Diane must have told you to keep it a secret. That’s why she spoke to you privately.”

“You pieced that story together really fast.”

“When you live in someone’s head for a few years, you can’t help but get to know them. Now come on, your room’s this way.”

The elevator door opened. A long corridor similar to the path that led to the bridge awaited us. For all its bells and whistles, Nightwing could have used some interior designer to spice up the place. Emiko brought me to a door just a few paces from the elevator and pointed to a fingerprint sensor.

“My room’s across from yours,” Emiko explained. “This one’s unoccupied. It’ll be keyed to your thumbprints once you access the scanner here. Common showers are down the hall and to the right, but you have a private restroom if you’re shy.”

“Good to know,” I muttered.

“So. When did you graduate?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The IFA,” Emiko said. “When’d you graduate from the academy?”

“Oh,” I replied. “Three, almost four years ago.”

“A bit after my time then.”

“You don’t look that much older than me,” I said.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Emiko smirked. “If you have any questions, you can raise it to me or the captain. Stephen and Vladimir too, if they’re around. Flat structure, military hierarchies only matter during combat. Just remember this is a real ship, Miss Greymoor. We’re not in school anymore. Try not to think too theoretically from now on.”

Emiko retreated to her room. I thumbed the fingerprint scanner. The door beeped and slid open. My room consisted of a bed, a desk, a bathroom, and chrome metallic walls in every direction.

Yup. Definitely needed an interior designer.

Exhaustion consumed me and I plunged onto a firm mattress. I had been operating on pure adrenaline and the surreal intensity of having seen my death beforehand.

But was it a premonition? It had been so vivid; had it actually happened and I somehow traveled back in time before it occurred? Was it some unknown side effect of Bridge Mode, some permutation of lived conscious experience that I had made up all in my head?

My eyes closed. There were too many questions just about the battle. I didn’t even get to think about Nightwing, Knight Captain Gawain, Ulysses, Captain Diane Lunova and her motley crew of imperial rejects.

Fuck, I thought as I dozed off. I’m one of them now.