The Senator's Daughter Read online

  I wish I had made a different decision. I lot of people say that, I guess. About a lot of things.

  But a lot of people aren’t sitting in the cockpit of a starship, watching the beginning of an intergalactic civil war. A lot of people aren’t watching the Empire’s end, knowing that, if they’d just done something differently, this wouldn’t be happening. They’re not watching millions of people die and knowing it’s their fault.

  One stupid mistake. That’s all it was. I could have prevented all this.

  Here’s how I fucked over the entire human race. Like a lot of stories like this, it begins innocuously. With a day that started out normal but then went all kinds of sideways.

  Episode 1:

  The Senator’s Daughter

  J aQuan Jones checked the readouts on his board at the helm of Cataan’s Claw. Everything read nominal.

  “Okay,” he said into his headset, “you ready for me?”

  “You are all set, my friend,” Lanaliel replied from the engine room.

  “Kick some ass, JaQuan,” Brody added.

  JaQuan rolled his eyes. He’d been surprised to run into Brody on the station – he hadn’t seen him since Imperial acclimation almost ten years ago. And he was grateful to have Brody take his place as engineer’s mate so JaQuan could move up to pilot. But he’d forgotten how irritatingly white-frat-boy, Brody could be.

  Butterflies fluttered through JaQuan’s stomach. Finally, he would get to start a voyage in the ship’s pilot seat instead of down in the engine room with Lanaliel. The big Mandran was enjoyable to work with, and he treated JaQuan with great respect. But JaQuan wanted to fly. He was getting his chance at last.

  He tapped the buttons on his board, engaging the ship’s stardrive. Deep in the freighter’s core, the big engine rumbled with anticipation.

  “Space-normal engines online, Kitekh,” he said.

  He turned his head, so he could catch the captain’s eye over his shoulder. Kitekh Galesh suppressed a smile on her feline face. Her orange tabby fur betrayed no happiness for JaQuan’s big moment, but her green eyes glinted with just a hint of affection.

  Her fellow Graur and first mate, Rorgun Krisch, flashed JaQuan a quick grin from the tactical station to JaQuan’s right. It looked ghoulish coming from a face covered in black fur with yellow eyes, but JaQuan had known him long enough to know the smile was genuine.

  “Cooressa,” Kitekh said, her voice musical, enchanting. “Inform Daxal Station Control, we’re ready to disengage.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Cooressa replied. “Sending now.”

  JaQuan shook his head. After nearly ten years, he still couldn’t get over how beautiful the voices of the Graur sounded. Kitekh Galesh may have been a giant felinoid capable of slicing him into tiny pieces, but she and the other three Graur aboard Cataan’s Claw sounded alluring when they spoke – like mermaids or sirens calling sailors to crash their ships on the rocks in the old Greek myths. He supposed that was a fitting metaphor. The Graur might have languid, melodious voices. They might have the intrinsic grace of any cat species. But you absolutely did not fuck with them. A provoked Graur was possibly the most dangerous thing in the galaxy. And provoking them wasn’t hard.

  Still, JaQuan liked them. They were ferocious but not savage. The whole race seemed to smolder with an internal rage they could not adequately express. He understood that feeling well. He might be among the last survivors of humanity, one of the lucky ones who had made it to the Empire, but they had only been here ten years. Being a human in the Empire didn’t feel much different than being a black man in America had.

  “Acknowledgment from Station Control, Captain,” Cooressa said from the comms station on the far right side of the bridge. “Docking clamps disengaging.”

  JaQuan didn’t like her. He supposed it was because she was Elohim, which he freely admitted was kind of racist.

  But nothing about the First Race in the Empire sat right with him. Maybe it was their appearance. Tall and willowy, with pasty-white skin, they had large, black eyes with no pupils or irises. Their hair shimmered – it was gold or silver or turquoise – and fell halfway down their backs. But they still reminded him too much of the extraterrestrials from all those alien-abduction stories on Earth – like they should be on The X-Files or Close Encounters of the Third Kind. At least they wore clothes.

  Cooressa Fil was just . . . different from the rest of the crew. Sure, she was the only Elohiman aboard, but it was more than that. She eschewed a ship suit in favor of the traditional Elohim shift. She ate alone instead of with the rest of the crew. She didn’t fraternize with anyone. You could engage her in conversation, but she always acted like she knew more than you did.

  She irritated JaQuan, and unlike the feline Graur or Lanaliel – a bovine Mandran – she looked alien. The other races seemed like humanoid versions of Earth species. The Elohim resembled the monsters who abducted and performed horrible science experiments on you.

  “Docking clamps disengaged,” Cooressa said. “We are clear to navigate.”

  She turned to JaQuan expectantly. She blinked, her eyelids sliding in from the sides instead of the top like every other species. JaQuan struggled not to shudder. He’d known Cooressa for three years, and that shit still creeped him out every time.

  With an effort, he quashed his loathing. She was good at her job, and Kitekh trusted her. That was more than enough.

  “All right, JaQuan,” Kitekh said, “take us out of here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  He tapped his board several times, then wrapped his fingers around the stick. Squeezing the trigger gently to open the throttle, he pushed it forward slightly to ease Cataan’s Claw away from the station. She responded softly, inching forward into the blackness of space with little complaint.

  JaQuan increased his pressure on the stick to push off harder. After twenty seconds, he checked the sensors. According to his board, they were clear enough that the ship’s backwash wouldn’t hit the docking bay. He opened the throttle wider and pushed the stick farther forward to gain enough thrust to escape the station’s gravity well.

  “Appearing good,” Rorgun said.

  JaQuan laughed. Rorgun’s face screwed up in confusion.

  “I was offering you a compliment,” he said. “Isn’t that your human phrase?”

  “Looking good,” JaQuan said, smiling. “It’s ‘Looking good.’”

  Rorgun scratched his mane in befuddlement. JaQuan bit his tongue to avoid laughing again at the sight of a giant, humanoid, black panther looking chagrined.

  “I apologize, my friend,” Rorgun said. “I’m afraid not all of your human aphorisms translate well to Imperial. Regardless, that was excellent lift-away from the station. Fine piloting for someone newly promoted to helm.”

  “I been telling y’all you were wasting me as an engineer’s mate,” JaQuan said. “I’m much better at flying.”

  “If your lift-away is an indication of your prowess, I believe your boast will be confirmed,” Rorgun said.

  “It ain’t boasting if you can do what you say,” JaQuan said with another smile.

  “Perhaps you two can stop celebrating the mundane accomplishment of disengaging from a space dock long enough to calculate a course for the Rijan System,” Kitekh said. “Or does our new pilot not understand he has to actually get us where we’re going?”

  Rorgun grinned. JaQuan couldn’t see his captain’s expression from where he sat, but the first mate’s face suggested she was only mildly irritated.

  “Apologies, Captain,” Rorgun said. “I was just trying to doe him up.”

  Unable to stop himself, JaQuan laughed out loud.

  “Buck him up,” he corrected.

  “I don’
t understand,” Rorgun said.

  “I know,” JaQuan said, giggling. “You see—”

  “Explain it later, JaQuan,” Kitekh snapped. “After we’ve made the jump to hyperspace.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Still grinning, he tapped instruments on his board. “Calculating course to Rijan now.”

  Seconds later, the nav system fed him the information. He transferred the data to his instruments.

  “Course calculated, Captain,” he said. “Adjusting heading now.”

  Pulling the stick right, JaQuan swung Cataan’s Claw around and put her on a path towards the Rijan System. He checked his instruments again to make sure there were no obstacles in the way.

  “Course set, Captain,” he reported.

  “Calculate jump to hyperspace,” she ordered.

  “Calculating,” he said.

  The nav system analyzed their current speed and position, then projected a point in space wherein it would open a jump point after they had accelerated to .3C, the minimum speed necessary to engage the hyperdrive. The process took twenty seconds.

  “Got it,” JaQuan said.

  “Cooressa,” Kitekh said, “tell everyone to prepare for the jump to hyperspace.”

  “Yes, Captain,” she said.

  She leaned over her board and tapped instructions. JaQuan opened the throttle fully and pushed the stick forward. Cataan’s Claw picked up speed. He checked his instruments.

  “Hyperspace jump in thirty seconds,” he said.

  G pushed him into his seat as the freighter rocketed towards its jump point. He increased acceleration.

  “Captain,” Cooressa said, “Station Control is ordering us back to dock.”

  Reflexively, JaQuan let up on the stick. He looked at the Elohiman comms officer.

  “What?” Kitekh said, echoing JaQuan’s thoughts.

  “By order of the Imperial Authority,” Cooressa said.

  No one said anything for several seconds. Technically, the Empire’s agents had authority everywhere. But Daxal was a trading post, a waystation for goods and travelers headed to better destinations. What Imperial official would be way out here?

  “What would the Empire want with us?” Rorgun said. “We’re just shipping mining supplies.”

  Before Kitekh could speculate, a klaxon screamed through the bridge. JaQuan turned to his board and saw a large object between them and their jump point.

  “Holy shit!” he cried.

  He tapped the control to close the throttle and fired the forward braking thrusters. Then he put Cataan’s Claw into a steep dive.

  This time, G attempted to rip him from his seat, but the harness held him in place. Kitekh shouted something in her native language as JaQuan pushed the stick harder, trying to complete the maneuver.

  A moment later, the collision alarm ceased. They were temporarily out of danger.

  “What the hell was that?” Kitekh shouted.

  “A ship!” Rorgun replied, examining his board. “A big one.”

  “Captain,” Cooressa said, “it is an Imperial battlecruiser.”

  “What?” Kitekh said. “Why would there be a military vessel out here?”

  “Confirmed, Captain,” Rorgun said. “It’s a Monruth-class battlecruiser. And it’s got a friend.”

  “Two battlecruisers?” Kitekh said, incredulity marring her otherwise melodic voice.

  “Yes,” Rorgun said.

  “Captain, they are ordering us to cut our engines and prepare to be boarded,” Cooressa said.

  Silence descended on the bridge for several seconds. JaQuan looked from Cooressa to Rorgun. Both stared at Kitekh.

  “Orders, Captain?” Rorgun asked.

  “Battle stations,” she replied.

  Captain Horay Kel gripped the hilt of his sword as he watched the freighter pull off the dive and avoid colliding with his ship. Whoever was piloting the terrorist vessel was an excellent flyer.

  He shook his head in disgust. So much wasted talent. The Empire needed fine pilots. Why work for illegals and traitors when one could serve the greater glory of God?

  “Daxal Station Control confirms that is the ship in question, Captain,” said Los, his comms officer. “It is Cataan’s Claw.”

  Cataan’s Claw. It may have been an Elohim-designed Lankwin-class freighter, but with a name like that, it could only be a Graur ship. Who else would name a merchant vessel after the greatest hero in Graur history? Stupid cats were nothing if not predictable when it came to culture.

  But why would any Graur be working with human terrorists? Was this the state the Empire had come to? That defenders of the galaxy were now conspiring with those who would destroy it?

  Horay was grateful Imperial Command had acceded to his request for an all-Elohim bridge crew. He needed people he could trust, people who understood the values of the Empire. He supposed a few Mandra would have been acceptable. They were generally respectful of Imperial ideals. But Graur were too wild, too prone to follow their own strategy.

  “Have you sent the order to stand down and prepare to be boarded?” Horay asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Los replied. “It has not been acknowledged.”

  “Scan the ship,” Horay ordered. “I want to know who’s aboard.”

  There was a momentary pause as the crew obeyed.

  “They have raised their deflector screens, sir,” said Gru, his chief tactical officer.

  “You can bet they will attempt to flee,” First Officer Zin said. “We have not fired on them yet, so there is no reason for them to raise their defenses.”

  “Yes,” Horay said, vaguely irritated that Zin felt the need to state the obvious. “They don’t seem to be interested in complying with our orders. Bring weapons systems online and prepare to target their engines.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Gru said. “Particle cannon?”

  “No, you idiot!” Horay nearly shouted. “Our orders are to capture them, not smash them into space dust. Beamers only.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Gru said. “My apologies.”

  “They are attempting to circle around us and resume their previous heading, Captain,” another tactical officer said. Horay couldn’t remember her name. “They must have a jump point calculated and are trying to reach it.”

  Like his first officer, she seemed to think it was necessary to state the obvious. He sighed. It was still better than working with Graur. They might be the fiercest warriors in the galaxy and a mainstay of the military, but they always assumed they knew more about tactics and wanted to take over in the middle of a fight. It was another reason he had insisted on an all-Elohim bridge.

  “Order Magnificent Glory to cut them off,” Horay said. “Then bring us about. We’ll catch them in a pincer.”

  “Beamers online, Captain,” Gru reported.

  “Excellent,” Horay said. “Target their thrusters and prepare to fire on my order.”

  The crew hurried to obey. Horay smiled. This would be over quickly. He couldn’t wait to see the look on the terrorists’ faces when they were in his brig, with the senator’s daughter safely back where she belonged.

  JaQuan jerked on the stick as he tapped commands into his board. This wasn’t going to work. He had no idea why the Empire wanted them, but he was pretty sure Kitekh was going to get them killed trying to avoid capture.

  “They are firing beamers,” Cooressa shouted.

  “Evasive action!” Kitekh cried.

  JaQuan yanked the stick back, trying to put Cataan’s Claw into a climb as the plasma beams from the Imperial battlecruiser stretched out across space for them. He managed to avoid two of them, but three collided with the ship, which rocked with the impact.

  “Deflector screens holding,” Rorgun reported. “But we can’t take many more hits like that.”

  “Captain, that second cruiser is moving to intercept us,” Cooressa said.

  “Get us out of her way, JaQuan,” Kitekh said.

  “I’m trying,” he replied, increasing the angle of th
eir climb.

  “Second ship is firing beamers,” Cooressa said.

  “Rorgun, angle the deflector screens,” Kitekh shouted.

  JaQuan couldn’t tell if he was able to obey. Cataan’s Claw shook with contact from several more plasma beams.

  “One of the underside deflector screens is collapsing,” Rorgun said.

  “JaQuan, roll us over to compensate,” Kitekh said.

  “For God’s sake, Kitekh!” he screamed. “This is suicide! We’re a freighter with a full load of mining gear, not a starfighter. We can’t outmaneuver two Imperial battlecruisers!”

  “Just do it!” she yelled.

  JaQuan tapped the command into his board, and Cataan’s Claw rolled over to give her top to the interposing battlecruiser.

  “Where’s that first ship?” Kitekh asked.

  “Dropping in behind us, Captain,” Cooressa answered.

  “Ha! I knew it!” Kitekh crowed.

  “Knew what?” JaQuan asked.

  “The commander’s an Elohiman, not a Graur,” she said. “He’s trying to catch us in a pincer move. No Graur would think something so pedestrian would work.

  “Recalculate the jump to the Rijan System. Then put us on a dead heading for the second ship. Rorgun, when I tell you, angle all available deflector screens forward.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rorgun said.

  “Time to prove you’re as fancy a flyer as you claimed, JaQuan,” Kitekh said.

  JaQuan shook his head. He had no idea what sort of insanity Kitekh thought she could pull off, but he was convinced he was about to die.

  With a few taps of his fingers, he ordered the nav system to recalculate the jump to hyperspace. While it was doing the math, he set Cataan’s Claw on a collision course for the Imperial cruiser.

  “Course adjusted, Captain,” he said.

  “Okay, Rorgun, angle those deflector shields and bring our forward weapons online.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “They are firing again, Captain,” Cooressa said.

  “JaQuan, do your best to evade those blasts, but stay on this heading.”

  “Whatever you say, Kitekh,” JaQuan said with a humorless laugh.