Edited by Jodi Black

Cover by Jonathan Taylor

Wendigo Tales is an imprint of Pinnacle Entertainment Group. The Last Parsec, all logos, characters, unique creatures, locations, and creations are copyrights of Pinnacle Entertainment Group. All Rights Reserved.

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The Last Parsec:

A Clear Understanding of Honor

By John Wick

Captain Morham opened his eyes and saw the ruin that was his command bridge. He felt the cut on his cheek and the drops of blood oozing down to his lip. He looked up to the command deck’s shimmering view screen and saw the unknown and alien warship that had fired upon them, ready to fire another volley.

It was a perfect ambush.

Two minutes ago, engineering reported a sudden and unexplained drop in power. “Something is sucking the energy right out of our engines,” his engineering officer, Resfar, reported.

One minute ago, shields failed. Resfar on the com: “I can’t explain it, Sir! Energy draining faster than before!”

Thirty seconds ago, the alien warship dropped out of cloak and fired on the Valiant’s most vulnerable targets.

And now, Morham stood on the bridge of his ship, life support failing, no FTL drive, no impulse drive, emergency power only.

They didn’t even need to target the weapons.

His bridge was dark, lit by emergency lights and the small fires his crew was desperately trying to put out. Air filters sucked away the last bit of smoke. Two of his bridge officers were dead and he had no idea how many others had joined them.

Behind him, only two command officers were alive. Avella was wounded, sitting on the floor next to coms, her green fingers holding a wound in her belly, a thick, green fluid with silver sheen oozing between them. Morham was familiar enough with k’spedan anatomy to know it wasn’t blood.

The other was M’miric, his first officer. The valeran’s long, slender, grey fingers worked at his station with speed and precision, his wide, yellow eyes darting back and forth. Morham did not know what M’miric was doing, nor did he need to know. The valeran was working, and he knew enough about his first officer that letting him work, and not interrupting him, was the best choice he could make.

At his command chair, Morham saw a blinking light. It was a ship-to-ship com request. He looked back at Avella. She nodded. He hit the button and the flickering view screen faded from the warship to a face. A face with pale skin, no hair, and five red eyes. The smile was full of razors.

“I am Shelmarh, Commander of the Rastian Empire warship, the Hach’tan,” the face told him. “And you are my prisoner.” Shelmarh said that last part with a cold glee.

The translator’s still working, Morham thought. Thank you, Valiant, for small favors.

Surrounded by smoke and death, Morham asked, “Captain...Shelmarh.” He chose his words carefully and deliberately. “I demand to know what we’ve done to provoke such an attack.” Morham knew the answer to this question. Asking it bought him precious seconds.

Shelmarh’s eyes showed disappointment. “Surely you are not so rude as to fail to introduce yourself,” he said.

“I am Captain Alistair Pickett Morham,” he said. “Commander of this ship, the Valiant. We are an exploration ship on a peaceful mission.”

The rastian opened its mouth and laughed. Morham saw rows of little razors and two tongues. “Do not insult me, Captain,” he said. “We have the capability of simply destroying your ship and its crew, so please, no more lies.” Behind Shelmarh, other rastians moved in the background, the black leather uniforms emphasizing their slender frames.

“We have weapons, yes,” Morham said. “But we use them only for self-defense. We’ve never even encountered you or your people before. Why attack us?”

“Captain Morham,” the rastian said, “you know exactly why we’ve incapacitated your ship and put your crew in mortal danger.” He blinked his five eyes. “Don’t you?”

So, they know, Morham thought.

The sneak attack was perfect. The rastians dropped out of cloak and fired exactly where the ship would be hurt worst. Shields down, life support crippled. Without life support, every soul on Morham’s ship would be dead in five minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Morham said out loud. “I’m not sure I received the last transmission.”

“Stop trying to buy time, Captain,” the rastian said. “I know as well as you do that our pinpoint targeting left your communications intact.” He made a sound that may have been a chortle.

Morham thought, You clever bastard.

Yes, a voice in his head agreed. He’s a clever bastard. It was a female voice, one he knew well.

Keep focused, it told him.

Morham nodded, just a little. I have a message for M’miric, he thought. Then, he told her.

He heard her voice in his head. Acknowledged. He saw one of M’miric’s hands stop and move to another part of his console.

As if on cue, the rastian asked, “What is that one doing?”

“Keeping the ship together,” Morham said. “He’s balancing the engines. They’re in overload...thanks to you.”

It was a convincing bluff. Now, to see if Shelmarh bought it.

Shelmarh asked, “What about your...engineering?”

Morham told him, “You’ve killed nearly everyone down there. Including my chief.” He gestured at M’miric. “If he doesn’t do what he’s doing right now, this ship will explode...and probably take you with us.”

Shelmarh hesitated, thoughts moving behind his five eyes. Then, he said, “Very well. I will allow that.”

Hook, line, and damned sinker, Morham thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw M’miric change his stance, just a little, starting a new task. Step one complete.

The rastian captain spoke again. “Do not try to communicate with your ship, Captain,” he warned. “Or we will open fire again. This time, we’ll rip a hole in the personnel quarters deck and send a few hundred of your beloved crew into the void.” The rastian laughed then. Morham nearly cursed out loud, but instead he bit the inside of his cheek until it hurt.

“If you want to save your ship and its crew,” the rastian said, “you must surrender...” he paused, his eyes gleaming, “...the actuator.”

Even M’miric paused in his work to turn and look at the captain.

“Get back to work,” he told the valeran. M’miric nodded and turned back to his station.

“Give me the actuator,” Shelmarh said, “or lose every life on your ship.”

Morham turned just a little, wiping his eye. He looked at the weapon station, still intact, but unmanned. The corpse of the weapons officer lay bleeding and burning nearby. A cadet, still in training, sat at the station, his head bleeding. He looked at Morham, waiting for orders, but probably unsure how to carry them out.

The rastian’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker again. “Now, Captain,” he said. “And I want to see the actuator before you put it on your shuttle. Bring it up to the bridge so I may do so.”

“I can’t really do that without communicating to my crew,” Morham said. “Can I be allowed to do that?”

Shelmarh laughed. “Yes, Captain. But I warn you: no tricks.”

Morham nodded. “No tricks. I’ll put the package on a shuttle and get it to you as soon as I can give the command.”

“Very well, Captain,” the rastian said. “Talk to your crew.”

He’s going to kill us all, the voice told him. That’s his plan. As soon as he has the actuator, he’s going to destroy the ship.

Morham gave a slight nod. He knew that. Morham walked from his command station across the bridge, stepping over wreckage and broken bodies. Lying beside the coms station was Avella, her silvery-green fingers thick with fluid. Morham put his hand on hers, a little of the fluid staining his skin. She looked up at the captain, her wide eyes in tears. “I’m–sorry, sir. I–can’t move.”

Her voice was the voice in his head.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll do it.” He put his hand on her shoulder, gently. “It’s going to be all right.”

She smiled and nodded.

He heard Shelmarh clapping behind him. “How touching!” the rastian said, almost laughing. “Now, do as you are told, Alistair Pickett Mohram!” Shelmarh poisoned those last words, laughing as he did.

Morham looked back over his shoulder at the view screen, his eyes full of anger.

“Tsk, tsk, Captain,” the rastian said, smiling. “Don’t lose your temper.”

Morham turned back to the com controls. He touched a button, then another. “This is the Captain,” he said. The sound of his voice went to all bridges. “I want...the actuator brought to me on the bridge immediately. Morham, out.”

When he let go of the switch, Morham turned back to the view screen. “Satisfied?” he asked.

“Not until I see it,” Shelmarh said. “And do not think this wins you any more time. I am ready to destroy you at any moment.”

Morham nodded. “Understood.”

Vaporize me and you get nothing, Morham thought. We both know that. You’re just hoping I don’t.

Shelmarh said, “And do not cease communications between us. I like watching you step slowly closer to death.”

Morham nodded again. I’m going to make this man beg me, he thought.

Avella’s voice told him, M’miric is ready.

Morham almost smiled.

He turned back to the view screen.

“May I be allowed to bring medical crew up to the deck?” Morham asked. “I have people dying here.”

Shelmarh smiled. “Why should I allow that?”

Morham raised his hands and couldn’t help but slide a bit of sarcasm in his voice when he said, “Because I’ve been so agreeable thus far.”

Shelmarh nodded. “Very well, Captain. Your life support is failing. You will all die soon anyway. Patching up injuries means nothing to me.” He laughed. “You may have one, and only one. No more.”

Morham nodded and returned to the coms station. He looked down at Avella. Just hold on, he thought.

I am, she said, her eyes shining.

He touched the com control. “Medical, I need someone to the command deck, ASAP.”

Medical reported back, “I’ll be there.” It was Danielewski. Morham knew the man himself would be here in a heartbeat. He didn’t disappoint.

Less than thirty seconds later, the lift opened and Danielewski was there, holding his bag, his blond hair flopping over his blue eyes.

This is taking too much time, Morham thought. We’ve only got a few minutes of life support left.

Morham pointed at Avella. “She’s first,” he said.

Danielewski shook his head. “I’m the doctor,” he said. “I’ll do my own triage, thank you.” The young man looked around the command deck quickly. Then, he looked at Morham. “But this is one of the rare instances you’re right.”

The doctor knelt down beside her, put gloves on his hands, then pulled a medi-scanner from his bag. Morham looked at the old leather bag and smiled. He remembered sitting at the ship’s bar, three sheets to the wind, while a stone cold Danielewski told him the story about how it came into his possession. It was a story for another day.

Danielewski looked at the readout on the medi-scanner. “It’s all right,” he said to her. “Nothing important.” Then, he gave her his best bedside manner smile. “Benefits of being a sentient plant.”

She smiled and made a little sound, then squirmed because of the pain. “Please,” she said. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Danielewski removed a small bit of medi-gel and squeezed it onto the wound. The gel foamed and she winced.

“I hate that stuff,” she said.

Danielewski nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. Should have told you it would sting.”

“Knew that already,” Avella said.

Shelmarh’s voice boomed over them. “Where is my actuator, Captain?” he shouted.

Just then, the lift doors opened and a security guard stepped forward, his hand on the shoulder of an alien child, his skin black and his eyes golden. The boy did not wear a uniform, but a simple tunic. He had bare legs and plain shoes. His eyes saw the rastian on the screen and he almost screamed.

“It’s all right, Jan,” Morham told the boy. “It’s all right. He can’t hurt you.”

Jan looked at Morham, his eyes wide and ready for tears. “It’s the hurting man,” he said.

Morham nodded. “I know. I know. It’s all right.”

From behind him, Morham heard Shelmarh’s smile in the rastian’s words. “Oh... there you are, my lovely.”

Morham took the boy’s hand and stood, turning to look at the screen. “You see him now? Your... actuator?”

Shelmarh nodded slowly. “I do, Captain. I do. You’ve saved your crew’s lives for a little while longer.” Both of Shelmarh’s tongues licked his lips. “So pretty. And so...delicious.”

Jan reached around Morham’s leg and squeezed. “Please don’t let him get me,” he whimpered. “Please.”

Danielewski looked at him. “Captain, you can’t let this thing...”

Without looking away from the screen, Morham said, “I have four hundred souls on this vessel, Doctor. What do you expect me to do?”

The doctor stood and walked to him, speaking low. “He won’t destroy the ship,” he whispered. “You know that. He wants the boy!”

Shelmarh shouted, “No whispering! None!” Then, he said, “No plotting! No planning! No tricks! I’ll have none of it!”

Morham shook his head. “Just an officer disagreeing with my decision,” he said.

At that moment, M’miric turned from his station, his long fingers stopping their movement. “Captain,” he said. “The shuttle is ready.”

“NO!” the boy screamed. “Please! You promised!”

The doctor nearly screamed as well. “You can’t, Al! You can’t!”

“I can and I must,” Morham said. He knelt down to the boy. “It will be all right,” he told Jan. “I promise.”

Then, he looked at M’miric. “Take Jan to the shuttle, XO.”

Danielewski exploded. “You would give the job to M’miric, wouldn’t you? It fits his bloody math, doesn’t it?”

M’miric talked to them both. “Doctor, we are outgunned, crippled, and unable to defend ourselves. What other choice do we have?”

“What other?” Danielewski’s face was red. “Whatever happened to protecting every member of this crew?”

M’miric shook his head. “The boy is not a member of this crew. And thus, does not fit into the equation.”

Jan looked up at M’miric and his wide, yellow eyes. “Are...are you going to hurt me?” he asked.

“No,” M’miric said. “I am incapable of that. I have taken the Hav’n: a sacred vow of nonviolence. I may not voluntarily harm an innocent life.”

“What is going on over there, Captain?” Shelmarh demanded. “I see lips moving but I cannot hear what you are saying!”

Morham stepped in front of the three of them. “My apologies, just some disobedience from my crew.” He looked back at M’miric and Jan. “Take him to the shuttle,” he said.

“Yes, Captain,” M’miric said. He held out his long hand to the boy. “Come, Jan,” he said. “I promise not to harm you, but also, to keep you from all harm.”

Jan looked at Morham. He nodded. “It’s all right. You can go with him.”

Jan smiled. “If you say it’s okay,” he said. He let go of Morham’s hand and took M’miric’s. The valeran’s fingers coiled around the boy’s hand twice.

Morham looked at the screen. “My XO is taking...the actuator to the transport now.”

“No tricks, Captain,” Shelmarh said.

Morham raised his hands. “No tricks.”

Danielewski sneered at him. “You’ve saved no one,” he said. “Once this bastard gets the boy, he’ll kill us all.”

Morham raised his eyebrows and said, “Enough, Doctor.”

Danielewski shook his head and turned to the rest of the wounded.

Morham looked at the screen. “He’s right, you know,” he said. “As soon as you have Jan, there’s no reason at all not to blow us out of the stars.”

Shelmarh looked confused and mumbled alien words. Then, he smiled. “Ah, a euphemism!” He laughed. “You do not understand us, Captain,” he said. “You’ve already been defeated. Your life support is fading. You cannot move. Killing you now would be...” he paused, his eyes looking for the right word. “It would be insulting to my honor. It is better for my story if I simply let you die. Helpless, in the cold emptiness of space.”

A weak signal registered on his command terminal. Morham stepped forward and looked at it. Then, he looked up.

“The actuator is on its way to you now,” he said.

Another rastian stepped forward and spoke something close to what Morham assumed were the rastian versions of ears. Shelmarh nodded and smiled. “Our sensors do indeed detect a small ship heading toward our vessel.”

Morham nodded. “Acknowledged,” he said. He touched another control on his console. “Our shuttle should reach your ship any moment now.”

A moment later, M’miric emerged from the tube doors. “The shuttle is away, Captain,” he said and resumed his post.

Morham looked away from the view screen and at the valeran. “With its cargo?”

M’miric nodded. “As you instructed, sir.” Then, he walked back to his station and sat down, looking at the view screen.

Morham looked back at Shelmarh as well. “In a few moments, it should be within range,” he said.

“And then, we will watch you and your crew slowly die,” Shelmarh said, his smile widening, showing his teeth.

“Yes,” Morham said, sitting back in his chair. “I’m sure that’s something you would enjoy.” Then, he turned to M’miric. “Shuttle range to alien ships, Mr. M’miric?”

The valeran said, “Coming into range now, Captain.”

On the view screen, behind Shelmarh, a rastian looked up from his own command console. “Sir!” he shouted. “There are no lifeforms on the–”

“Now, Mr. M’miric,” Morham said.

One of M’miric’s digits extended and touched a button. At the same moment, the view screen on the Valiant went dark.

***

Danielewski’s eyes went wide. “What the hell just happened?” he asked.

“An EMP,” Morham said. “Just within range of the Hach’tan and out of range of us.” Morham looked at M’miric. “Perfect timing.”

“Of course,” M’miric said.

Morham looked back at the doctor. “Should have knocked out their circuits. They’ll need time to restart everything.”

M’miric said, “They still may have emergency cells.”

Morham looked at Avella. Her eyes were closed, darting behind her lids. “They don’t,” she said. “It’s complete panic. Shelmarh doesn’t know what happened.”

Morham couldn’t help but smile. But he still had no time. He pushed the com button on his console. “Engineering!” he shouted.

Resfar answered. “Captain?”

“How’s it looking down there?”

“Bad, Captain.” When she spoke, her aliskew accent swallowed her vowels. “We’ve been replacing circuits like mad. We’ve got impulse movement, but no FTL. Shields are still down, but deflectors are up. We can handle a few physical attacks, but we’re defenseless against energy.” She paused, “But they didn’t touch the weapons systems, stupid bastards. If you want weapons, you’ve got them.”

Morham looked at the weapons station. Danielewski was there, scanning the cadet’s skull. The kid was just out of training, watching Lieutenant Gilbert when he was killed. His head had exploded onto the boy’s shirt.

“Doc?” Morham asked.

Danielewski clicked off the medi-scanner and nodded at him.

“Cadet Masayoshi!” Morham shouted.

The cadet looked up. “Aye, Captain!”

“Fire at will,” Morham said.

Masayoshi turned back to his console, touched the controls, and Morham felt the familiar vibrations of the weapon systems pushing torpedoes through the interior of the ship.

“Avella,” he said, not turning around.

“Captain?” she asked.

“Get me a tactical on the screen.”

“Tactical, aye,” she said. A moment later, he saw what he needed to see.

The alien ship was listing, unable to maintain its position. He saw the torpedoes firing from the Valiant toward the rastian ship.

“Mr. M’miric, I want information on the rastian ship’s condition no more than ten seconds after those torpedoes hit,” he said.

“Waiting for impact, Captain,” he said.

“Helm!” he shouted. But then, he realized no-one was there. The fried remains of Lieutenant Brigham lay beside the seat.

He touched the com on his command console. “I need a helmsman up here!” he shouted. Then, he ran to the station and sat in the chair. Morham grabbed the stick and pulled, sending the Valiant into full reverse. As the ship began to move, he watched the slow progress of the torpedoes.

“Their systems are still down, sir,” M’miric said. “Apparently, they were unprepared for such an attack.”

“Of course they were,” Morham said. “It wasn’t honorable.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avella jolt, her eyes going wide, her hands coming up to her mouth. She made a pained sound and shut her eyes tight.

“Avella?” he asked.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Her words were broken and hesitant. “Shelmarh just killed one of his own crew,” she said. “I’m sorry, I...I couldn’t keep contact. I’ve lost him.”

Morham looked back at the view screen. Beside him, Masayoshi launched another spread of torpedoes.

“Anticipating orders is a great way to get on my good side, Mr. Masayoshi.”

Morham called back to M’miric. “Distance between us and the enemy ships?”

M’miric answered, “Still within range of their weapons.” Then, “I detect a power surge from what I presume is their engineering department.”

“A power surge?” Morham asked. “Is he detonating his own ship?”

“Negative,” M’miric said. “It seems he’s turned everything on at once rather than wait for safety protocols. Assuming their tech works remotely like ours.”

Morham said, “Put it on screen.”

Avella pushed a button and the tactical display turned to a visual display. The Hach’tan had come to life just as the torpedo struck it. Morham saw pieces of the ship blow apart. Masayoshi’s targeting was perfect.

“Damage to maneuvering,” M’miric said. “But the Hach’tan’s weapons are still online.” Then, he said, “Main beam weapon charging!”

Morham shoved the stick down, hoping to get his ship out of the way. The beam fired, moving fast across the distance. It hit the Valiant and Morham felt the ship shudder around him.

“Damage report!” he shouted.

Avella closed her eyes. “Checking with deck officers now.”

“M’miric, she’s got her shields and her weapons,” Morham said. “Suggestions are welcome.”

“She does not have all her systems,” M’miric said. “Her engine coils are showing overheating.” He said, “She may have weapons, but she cannot turn and it is entirely possible she cannot move.”

Morham nodded. “Understood,” he said. He continued the Valiant’s plunge downward. On his command console, he heard Resfar from engineering.

“Captain, don’t let that happen again. I nearly blew the couplings down here! Another hit like that, and we’ll be a star ourselves.”

“Get me FTL!” he shouted at the com.

“A week...three days at best,” Resfar said.

“Options, then! Give me options!”

“Working on them,” Resfar said.

“The Hach’tan is preparing to fire again!” M’miric said.

“Move, dammit!” Morham shouted at the controls. “Move!”

He saw the Hach’tan fire and felt the ship shudder... but not from impact.

“Apparently, we have exited the Hach’tan’s firing radius,” M’miric said.

“Sir,” Masayoshi said, “If we’re under her and she can’t fire back...”

“...and her engines are overheating,” M’miric added.

Morham nodded. “Target her engines, Mr. Masayoshi,” he said.

Behind him, Avella said, “Sir, damage reports in. I’ll forward them to your console.” She paused. “Casualties are less than expected, sir,” she said.

“Good,” Morham said. “Because I still need a pilot up here.”

The lift doors opened and everyone looked. It was Jan, his wide gold eyes flashing against his black skin.

M’miric said, “I told you to stay in my quarters.”

He put his hands together. “The ship was shaking,” he said. “People were screaming.”

Morham nodded. “It’s all right, Jan,” he said.

M’miric said, “Come here. Sit next to me.”

Morham looked at the valeran with a quizzical eye.

M’miric said, “I am the obvious choice. Unlike a human, I will not be distracted by a human child.”

Morham smiled, and for a moment, he thought he saw M’miric smile, too.

Next to him, Masayoshi said, “Torpedoes away, sir.”

“Tactical,” Morham said. Avella changed the screen. He looked at the distance between the Valiant and the rastian ships. Then he said, “Mr. M’miric, I want the same report. When those torpedoes hit, same orders.”

“Understood,” M’miric said. “Analysis should be faster now. Scans are giving me a better understanding of the rastian ship’s structure.

Behind him, Morham heard Jan say, “Are you going to hurt them?”

Morham turned and looked at the boy. They would have done worse to you. “We’re going to stop them from hurting us,” he said.

Jan nodded. “Okay, I guess.”

Danielewski said, “Looks like you’ve got the boy’s permission to continue firing, Masayoshi.”

The cadet looked at Morham. “Sir?” he asked.

Morham nodded. “The previous order goes unchanged. Fire at will,” he said.

Masayoshi nodded and touched his console. Then, he looked confused. He touched it again. “Sir,” he said, “weapons not responding.”

Morham touched the com. “Engineering!”

“I know!” Resfar said. “Torpedo firing is offline.”

“Get it back!” Morham shouted.

“If I do, we’ll be flying through space without a ship,” she said. “Give me ten minutes!”

“Dammit!” Morham cursed. He looked up at the view screen. The last torpedoes Masayoshi fired hit the Hach’tan and the ship shuddered, almost flipping over while bits of it blew off.

“Obviously damage to their stabilizers,” he said. “Analyzing for further data.”

Just then, Morham’s com light turned green on his console. A signal from Shelmarh. He pushed the button. “Is this the captain of Hach’tan?” he asked.

He heard Shelmarh’s voice, breathing heavy; sounds of fires behind it. “You know it is, you treacherous quivka!”

Morham said, “I think you and I have very different definitions of what is and is not honorable in combat.”

“I will rip your throat out and shove my–”

“Shelmarh, Shelmarh...is this any way for a captain to be speaking to another captain? Especially one who can destroy your ship at will?”

Morham heard the sound of a small explosion on the line. Then, he heard Shelmarh curse. “You...you cowardly puvl. It was a mistake to underestimate your underhanded tactics...”

“I’ll accept that as a surrender, Shelmarh,” Morham said.

“I treated you with honor and respect,” Shelmarh said. “But the Code of Ythtay is clear...an enemy without honor deserves no honor. And so it will be my pleasure to crush your throat with my teeth.”

The communication ended. Morham looked at M’miric. “Status of the Hach’tan?”

“Still unable to bring maneuvering fully online, Captain.”

Morham nodded. “Engineering!”

Resfar answered on the com, “Sir?”

“What have we got down there?”

“The FTL is fried, sir. No way to get it back online without serious repairs. Life support is back online. I can get main power back in a few hours. Weapons are...tricky.”

“Define tricky, Lieutenant.”

He heard Resfar take a sigh. “That last hit we took knocked weapons offline. We tried rebooting but we need to get a man in there to do the work. Shielding is damaged and that means protective suits and special tools.”

“Shields?” he asked.

“It’s that or weapons,” she said. “Your choice.”

“Why is it even a choice?” Morham asked.

“I’ve got casualties down here. Radiation sickness and burns, damaged shielding, malfunctioning ventilators. Everyone’s in masks. You want to come down here and help push while I gun the gas, I’d be more than happy for the help.”

Morham couldn’t help but laugh. The last time she was in his office, he saw how she eyed all the models of antique automobiles. She even borrowed a book.

“Get our weapons back online,” he said. “Do it in ten minutes and I’ll let you drive my convertible next time we port on Alveris Seven.”

“Already on it, sir,” she said.

“Command out.” He shut off the com. Then, he looked at the view screen.

“Analysis, Mr. M’miric.”

The valeran stepped away from his station. “They can’t move and we can’t hurt them,” he said. “Our torpedoes don’t have enough power to break their shields. With main power online to power the lasers and batter them first, yes. But not in our current situation.”

Morham shook his head. “We can’t just wait here and hope we get our repairs done before they do.”

“Agreed,” M’miric said. “I do not have enough data on the rastian ship, so I could not give you a proper estimate.”

“And once we get their shields down, they can always cloak again,” Morham said.

“I believe Lieutenant Avella is the solution to that problem, sir,” he said.

Avella turned in her chair. “Their minds are...awful. But, yes. I could. If you need me to.”

Morham thought for a moment. “He keeps talking about honor. Honor, honor, honor.” He paused. “But so far, everything he’s done has been...well, not what we would consider honorable.”

He looked at Avella. “What can you tell me about that?”

Avella squirmed in her seat a little. “Sir,” she said. “It’s...difficult to process. When he uses the word ‘honor,’ I think it means something closer to ‘strength.’”

M’miric nodded. “That seems right,” he said. “The translator is not perfect. Sometimes, we lose context between languages.”

Danielewski said, “If you ask me, the guy’s a lunatic. Winning seems to be his only motivation. That and watching his enemies die.”

Morham listened to them all, trying to put it together. Strength, honor, watching your enemies die...

He looked at Avella. “You said he killed one of his own crewmen. Why?”

She blinked and sighed. “It was...because he was weak.”

“Weak?” Danielewski asked.

“He...wasn’t working hard enough. For Shelmarh. He was...failing the captain.” She paused. “And that meant he was failing the ship.”

“Lieutenant,” M’miric asked Avella. “Would he detonate the ship if he felt he had failed it?”

She took another sigh. “No. He’d commit suicide. And let someone else take command.” She paused and looked at Morham. “Sir, I’m not sure of any of this. Their minds are so...difficult. I’ve never read anything like them before.”

Morham nodded. “I understand. Your intuition has helped us.” He looked at M’miric and Danielewski. “Suggestions?”

From the weapons station: “Sir?”

They turned to look at Masayoshi.

“I think I have something you should see.”

***

All of them watched it on the big screen. It was the tactical display of the fight, just moments before the Valiant’s torpedoes hit the Hach’tan’s shields.

“When our torpedos hit the Hach’tan, they bypassed the shields. Just went straight through them.”

M’miric nodded. “Yes,” he said. His voice sounded like he understood what Masayoshi said.

Morham looked at him. “Care to share, XO?”

M’miric shook his head. “I believe Cadet Masayoshi deserves this one,” he said.

Masayoshi smiled. “Thank you, Mr. M’miric.” He pointed back at the view screen.

“Their shields don’t work like ours. Ours are dynamic resistance, like actual armor. Theirs are... different.”

“How so?” Morham asked.

“We’ve never encountered their race before,” he said. “Maybe...they’ve never encountered another race at all. Their shields seem designed to only deal with weapons from their own race.”

“We fired at them,” Morham said, “and their shields did nothing?”

Masayoshi said, “Yes, sir.”

Morham said, “That sounds like a very flawed defensive system.”

Morham looked at M’miric. “What do you think?”

“It’s a strong hypothesis,” he said. “Strengthened by direct evidence.”

“Conclusion?” Morham asked.

M’miric nodded. “Their shields are designed for warfare with each other and not other races.” He paused. “From this, I deduce the rastians are not very experienced with alien races.” He nodded. “In fact, it shows a kind of hubris. All the other races they’ve encountered have not had weapons powerful enough to exploit this weakness. Otherwise, they would have noticed and changed it.”

Morham said, “If this is true, we launch torpedoes and their shields would do nothing.”

“Hypothetically, yes,” M’miric said.

“Killing everyone aboard the other ship,” Avella said from the coms station.

Morham looked at her. Then, he looked at M’miric. The valeran said, “The Hav’n Vow will not permit me to take part in such an action. In fact, I may be put into a position of having to stop you.”

Morham smiled. “Mutiny, Mr. M’miric?”

M’miric did not smile. “You of all people know that would not be my motivation.”

Morham’s smile broadened. He looked at Avella. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. We won’t be committing mass murder today.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said. She smiled.

“Open channels,” he said.

She turned to her station. “Channel open, sir.”

“This is Captain of the Valiant speaking to the captain of the defeated Hach’tan. Are you receiving me?”

The screen fizzled and Morham saw Shelmarh’s face. “You sniveling coward. How dare you...”

“Shut up,” Morham said. “We have analyzed your shields and know we can destroy your ship with only a few of our torpedoes. Surrender is your only option now.”

Shelmarh’s mouth curled tight. “You lie!”

Morham looked at Masayoshi. “Are torpedoes ready, Cadet?”

Masayoshi looked confused, then understood. “Ready to fire on your order, Captain.”

“On my mark, then,” Morham said. “Fire in five...four...three...”

“Wait!” Shelmarh shouted. The others on the bridge looked at him, their body language very different. The rastian looked at the crew behind him, then at the view screen. “It is true,” he said. “Even your weapons are full of shame and cowardice.” He took a breath. “I am defeated,” he said.

Morham heard Avella gasp behind him. “No!” she said.

Shelmarh took a dagger from his side into his hand.

“Captain! You have to stop him!” Avella shouted.

Morham raised his hand. “Shelmarh, wait!”

“I am defeated,” he said, “but the ship will be always victorious!”

He plunged the dagger into his throat, black blood spraying over his fingers.

Avella turned from the screen, covering her hands. Danielewski cursed something under his breath.

Shelmarh fell from the screen. Another rastian stepped up. A female, Morham thought.

“Congratulations, Captain Morham,” she said. She ducked down and lifted Shelmarh’s blackened dagger. “You have defeated Shelmarh.” She wiped the blood from the dagger and slipped it into an empty sheath on her leather uniform.

“I am Havekka, the Captain of the Hath’tan. And I will not be as weak as Shelmarh was.” She motioned below the screen at the floor. “Get this filth off my bridge!” she ordered. The other officers obeyed her command.

She turned to another rastian. “Translator, off!” she shouted. Morham saw the rastian hit a button on his command console and heard a digital click. Then she barked orders in a language Morham had never heard before. She turned back to the view screen and smiled.

It went blank.

“Sir,” M’miric said, “their shields have dropped.”

Morham stood confused for a moment. “What? Tactical!”

The screen lit up and he saw the Valiant and the Hach’tan.

Then, he saw only the Valiant.

M’miric turned from his screen to look at him. “They’ve engaged their cloaking device,” he said.

Morham turned to Masayoshi. “Fire! Last known coordinates!”

“There’s nothing to lock on to, sir! We’d be firing blind at thousands of kilometers of space!”

Morham looked back at the view screen, the Valiant the only thing on the tactical readout.

“We’re sitting ducks,” he said.

The tube doors opened and a tall, slender man stepped through. “Lieutenant Webber reporting for duty, sir,” he said.

Morham was looking at the view screen, thinking of his next move. He turned and looked at Webber. “Excuse me?” he said.

“Lieutenant Webber,” the tall man said. “You called for a helmsman.”

Morham nodded. “Right,” he said. “Take your post.”

Webber moved to the chair.

“I called for you ages ago, Webber. You are on the ship’s time, the ship isn’t on your time.”

Webber nodded. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It’s...the decks below...it’s a mess, sir.”

“Never mind that,” Morham said. He looked at the screen again. “Options, Mr. M’miric,” he said.

“Like their shields, their cloaking device is unlike anything we’ve encountered before. Improvising a scanning system is out of the question.”

“All right,” Morham said. “What can we do?” He looked at Avella.

Avella said, “I can scan for their minds, but that will not give us the coordinates Cadet Masayoshi needs to get a torpedo lock.”

Morham thought about that.

“Captain,” M’miric said. “Our only option is retreat. We cannot fight an enemy we cannot see.”

Morham thought about that, too. He looked at Danielewski. The doctor nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, Mr. M’miric is right.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” M’miric said.

Danielewski said, “Don’t get used to it.” Then, he gave the valeran a quick wink.

“All right,” Morham said. “We have a mission to get Jan to Arcturus Seven. Set a course, best possible speed.”

“Aye, sir,” Webber said. He looked over his console. “Best possible speed at this time is impulse power, Captain,” he said. Webber turned to look at Morham. “That’s two weeks, sir.”

“Then two weeks it is,” Morham said.

“She’s still out there,” Danielewski said, stepping up. “And we have no shields. All she would have to do is follow us until...”

“Captain,” M’miric said, “I have a suggestion.”

Morham turned to look at the valeran. “Go ahead.”

“Mr. Masayoshi stumbled across a weakness in their shields due to our difference in technology. Perhaps we can exploit other weaknesses as well.”

Morham looked at the valeran, his smile spreading slowly across his face. “Excellent suggestion, Mr. M’miric.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Morham thought for a moment... then said, “Mr. M’miric, I want scans on everything. On every frequency.”

M’miric walked to his station and began working.

“Cadet Masayoshi,” Morham said.

The Cadet nodded. “Aye, sir?”

“Keep those sharp eyes open. I want to know about any anomaly you find. Anything. No matter how trivial. You understand?”

He nodded. “Aye, sir.”

Morham looked at the helm station. “Lieutenant?”

Webber turned, “Aye?”

“I’m going to be giving irregular commands. Pay attention. No errors.” He smiled at the lieutenant. “You and I will be indulging in pitch and yaw.”

Webber smiled. “Aye, sir,” he said.

Morham looked at the view screen. “We’ve got an invisible enemy, people,” he said. “And I want to see her.”

He looked at Avella. “Open all frequencies.”

“Aye, Captain,” she said, and did so. Then, she said, “Frequencies open.”

Morham paused for a moment, calculating his words. Then he spoke.

***

On the Hach’tan, Havekka sat in her new command console, looking at the screen. She saw the Valiant, slowly retreating from her view.

“Engineering!” she shouted.

Over speaker, the engineer’s voice spoke. “Hala, Q’uva!” (“Aye, Captain.”)

“The Valiant is escaping! We need propulsion, now!”

The speaker crackled. “Q’uva, propulsion units are overcharged. If we use them, we may detonate the ship!”

“It’s your job to make sure that doesn’t happen, Engineer,” she said, her lips curling. “Propulsion!”

A deck officer spoke up, then. He was smaller than she was and he bowed his head when he spoke. “I do not correct the Q’uva, but inform her that propulsion may compromise our cloaking device.”

Havekka thought about that for a moment. Then, she opened the com to engineering again.

“List of viable systems,” she said.

Engineering reported, “Q’uva, life support and cloaking device at optimal performance. Engines still at overload. Power to any other systems endangers the engines’ integrity fields.”

“Why are the engines still in overload?”

The officer beside her said, “Q’uva Shelmarh’s order to cold start the engines ga...”

She slapped the officer with the back of her hand. “Never speak that name again on this ship!” she shouted. Then, she sat back in her chair, silent. “How long can we maintain without life support?” she asked.

Engineering did not answer.

“How long?” she shouted at the com.

Engineering replied. “Ten minutes, madam.”

“That’s all I need,” she said, her smile returning to her face.

Another deck officer turned. “My duty demands I inform the Q’uva that a signal comes from the Valiant.”

“What kind of signal?” Havekka asked, her voice a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

The officer’s voice almost cracked as he said, “As the Q’uva commands, it is a communication to us, madam.”

She smiled when she heard the sound of his voice. Another officer she did not need to worry about. “Put it on speaker,” she said.

The speaker crackled and the Q’uva of the Hach’tan heard Morham’s voice.

“...you respond? This is Captain Morham of the Valiant. Captain of the Hach’tan, will you respond?”

The coms officer spoke up. “He’s only trying to delay the inevitable, Captain. Only trying to disgrace your honor and steal your victory.” He laughed. “As the Q’uva wishes, destroy him!”

Havekka thought for a moment. Then, she said, “Open the frequency.”

The coms officer said, “As the Q’uva commands.”

Havekka smiled to herself. “This is Captain Havekka of the Hach’tan. What is it you seek, Morham?”

She watched the Valiant on her console. Its movement was erratic, like a wounded animal. She wondered if that was intentional.

“Captain Havekka,” Morham’s voice said. “Since we are both stuck here until repairs are made, I was wondering if you and I could have a conversation.”

“A conversation?” Havekka asked. “What kind of...conversation?”

Morham said, “This is the first time our species have ever met. Ours and yours. And I did not want to waste the opportunity.”

She laughed. “Captain, what makes you think I cannot destroy you now?”

“Because you haven’t,” Morham said. “Which leads me to two conclusions. Either you cannot destroy my ship or you will not. I’m hoping the latter is true, but I think the first one is more likely.”

She watched the Valiant make a sudden dip. She ordered coms to mute the conversation, then motioned to scanning. “What is wrong with their ship? Tell me, now!”

The scanning officer looked at her console. “As the Q’uva commands, I detect no significant damage to their impulse engines,” she said. “Their navigation appears operational as well.”

Havekka cursed quietly. The energy web they cast at the Valiant only had a short duration anyway. It was only a matter of time before their engines regained power.

She nodded to coms and he re-opened the channel. “Captain Morham, I assure you, I can destroy your ship at will.”

“I don’t think so,” Morham said. “Unless there’s something about honor I don’t understand.”

Havekka nodded. “The previous captain of this ship believed you knew nothing about honor. I, on the other hand, believe you understand it all too well.”

The speakers crackled. “–plain it to me, then,” Morham said.

She shifted in her chair as she watched the Valiant make another abrupt turn, this time to starboard.

“Honor means winning at all costs,” she said. “And the greater the victory, the greater the glory.”

Morham asked, “Watching your opponent die...I suppose that is the greatest victory?”

She nodded. “You see, captain? You understand honor perfectly well. What greater victory could a warrior have than defeating an opponent so completely you do not even have to raise a hand for them to reach death?”

A pause on the other end. “I see,” Morham said. “And so the greatest victory of all is putting your opponent in a position where he would rather end his own life than suffer further?”

Havekka laughed out loud. “How well you understand our people, Captain! I am most impressed!”

Morham said, “I’ve had much experience with alien cultures. Learning new cultures is a skill I picked up along the way.”

Coms signaled Havekka. She gave the signal to mute the Valiant’s captain. “Yes?” she asked.

“As the Q’uva commands,” the coms officer said. “Engineering reports the engines are now capable of firing... but we would need to drop cloak to do so.”

Havekka nodded. “Excellent.” She looked at the weapons officer. “Tell me when we are ready to fire,” she said.

The weapons officer nodded. “As the Q’uva commands.”

“I have another question, if you don’t mind,” Morham said over the channel.

Havekka gave the command to unmute him. “Go ahead, Captain,” she said.

“It seems the duty of a captain on a rastian ship is to bring glory to the ship and its crew.”

She shook her finger, even though he could not see her. “Oh, captain. A mistake,” she said. “But not your first on this day...and not your last.”

Morham said, “Please correct me.”

She watched the Valiant turn again, this time to port. She said, “The crew gain glory because of the ship. No rastian has glory on his own. Only the ship.”

Morham said, “I understand. A subtle difference. I see why I made that mistake.”

She laughed again, and suddenly, Havekka realized that she was growing to admire this man. He was clever and strong. His ship had great honor, even if he did not know it.

“Captain Morham, I regret to inform you that I am beginning to like you,” she said.

She heard a slight lilt in Morham’s voice when he said, “Really? Why should you regret that?”

“Because there is nothing more honorable than dispatching a beloved enemy,” she said.

Morham’s voice became even more mirthful. “Well, perhaps we can call this whole thing off and become even...closer enemies?”

She laughed openly, then. “Yes, Captain Morham,” she said. “I believe you and I would have created a rivalry worthy of a song.” She watched the Valiant move closer and the weapons officer gave her a nod.

“But now,” she said, “our little encounter must end.” She raised a hand to the weapons officer. “Now you die, Captain Morham.”

She was about to give the signal to the weapon’s officer, but then...she stopped. Paused. The Valiant suddenly turned and moved out of her weapon arc.

“Hm,” Morham said over the com. “It seems I’m still alive.”

She stared at the screen. Yes, the ship was moving...directly into the firing solution, but then it changed.

He could not have known, she thought. He is only moving about to keep himself safe from our weapons.

But then, another thought came to her. If he knew we could not fire upon him, why would he move?

Just as the echo of that thought hit her, Havekka’s eyes opened wide.

Because he knows exactly where we are.

“Still there, Captain Havekka?” Morham asked. “There was a long silence. I hope your engines haven’t overloaded.”

His movements...he was not trying to avoid a weapons strike. He was...

“I hope you’ve figured it out by now,” Morham said. “Otherwise, I would be greatly disappointed in my...beloved enemy.”

Havekka turned to look at the deck crew. They were all looking at her, waiting for orders.

“If you haven’t,” Morham said, “let me explain it. And don’t kill yourself yet, because I want you to know exactly how I won.”

Her hand went to the dagger at her side.

“We triangulated your signal. Something I learned in Wilderness Scouts. And once we did that, we knew exactly where you were.”

Her fingers gripped the pommel. The other officers stared at her.

Morham said, “Now, don’t move. Because we have torpedoes locked on your position. We fed the signal through to our weapons console and Mr. Masayoshi is very eager to pull the trigger, so to speak.”

One of the deck officers stepped forward. “You have shamed the ship, you fool!” he said.

“I...I have...”

Morham kept talking. “Now, don’t think you can escape. I could kill every last one of you if I wanted. We figured out your shields can’t stop our torpedoes. So, one or two should do the trick.”

She heard Morham’s voice on the edge of laughter when he said, “And I’ve got ten torpedoes locked on you right now. Ready to fire.”

Havekka swallowed. It made an audible click in her throat.

“Now, I want to send a message to the other officers on the command deck there. If you’re listening, pay attention.”

She saw the other officers pause, their eyes looking up, as if Morham was speaking to them from above the ship.

“If Captain Havekka is dead when my security teams come over there to secure your deck, I’ll make sure each and every one of you die of old age in a prison camp on an alien world where nobody knows your names.”

Havekka saw each deck officer cringe.

Morham said, “I hope that’s clearly understood.” Then, “Captain Havekka, did my threat demonstrate a clear understanding of honor?”

Havekka shook her head. “No, Captain Morham. You do not understand us at all.”

She reached forward and pushed a button. Then, everything went white.

***

On the Valiant, Morham heard Havekka’s words. Then he heard Avella scream.

Morham turned and saw her stand suddenly, then collapse to the floor, her body shivering. Danielewski rushed over to her, holding her shoulders.

Morham turned back to the screen. “Havekka!” He shouted. “No!”

On the view screen, the Hach’tan detonated in a brilliant flash of silent silver.

Morham felt his breath stop. His hands clenched. His jaw tightened. The Hach’tan, and its crew, were gone.

His officers turned to look at him. Morham sank down into his chair. The bridge was as silent as the space outside.

After a few moments, Morham rose and walked to Avella, her eyes full of tears.

“Th–they’re dead,” Avella whispered to him. Even from there, he could hear her lips trembling. “I felt...they all...all that fear...trying to hide it from the others...it was...it was...”

“An escape shuttle, maybe?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t–I can’t–”

Danielewski put his hand on her head, rested it against his chest. “She’s finished, Al. Let her be. All of those minds suddenly dying...must have been like looking at an exploding sun.”

Morham nodded. “I’m sorry,” he told her. She just cried into Danielewski’s chest.

M’miric stepped forward. “Sir,” he said. “There was no alternative. They would not have surrendered.”

Morham nodded. “I know, M’miric.” He took a deep breath. “That doesn’t make it easier. When your command is what causes hundreds of lives to come to an end...”

M’miric shook his head. “It was not your command,” he said. “It was hers.”

Morham nodded. He thought about that for a moment, then he said, “Lieutenant Webber, get us to our destination.”

Webber said, “Yes, sir.”

Morham looked at Danielewski and Avella. She was unconscious.

The doctor said, “I still have to learn a lot about k’spedan biology and psychology,” he said. “But I suspect the sudden death of a few hundred souls is something I should take seriously.” He frowned. “I should get her to sickbay.”

“Let me help,” Morham said. Together, they lifted Avella’s unconscious body and took her to the elevator tube.

Morham looked at M’miric. “You have the con,” he said. “Get us space worthy again.”

“With the utmost efficiency, Captain,” M’miric said.

“I have no doubt, Mr. M’miric.”

The elevator doors opened, then closed behind them.

For a moment, the two of them said nothing. Then, Danielewski said, “M’miric was right, by the way. There really was no choice. It was us or them.”

“Us or them,” Morham said. “A warrior culture obsessed with victory or death. We used to be like that.”

“We got over it,” Danielewski said. “With any luck, we can help them get over it, too.”

“A lot of people are going to die in the process,” Morham said.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened at the med bay. Morham saw it was full of casualties. An orderly stepped up to the elevator. “Sir?” he asked, offering to help.

“I’ve got her from here,” Danielewski said.

Morham looked at Avella. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. Her green skin was...

“Her sap does that,” Danielewski said.

Morham blinked. “What?” he asked.

Danielewski pointed at the captain’s fingers. Morham looked down and saw green stains on his skin, picked up from her wound. Danielewski showed Morham his plastic gloves. “That’s why I wear these.”

“Her blood?” he asked.

“Sap,” Danielewski said. “It’s not blood. And it does something to human biology that I haven’t quite figured out yet.”

Morham nodded. “Noted,” he said, putting his hands behind him.

“It’ll wear off in a couple of days,” Danielewski told him. “In the meantime, wash up.” He winked. “With a cold shower.”

The elevator doors closed. Morham stood silent for a moment. Then, he said. “Private room.”

The elevator started moving.

About the Author

John Wick is a game designer and author living in Phoenix, AZ. Over the course of twenty years, he has published over twenty games and won a lot of awards. He still collects orks.