Page 11 of Reformation
The ship had stabilizing, magnetic tie-downs that could be used in bad weather, but they all presumed that the ship was upright when they were deployed, so they’d be useless. Or …
“Oh, please still be on board.” Jonah headed for the storage compartment.
The magnetic tie-downs were a newer innovation for the ship, retrofitted into the old casings. The old version had been rather crude, by Central System standards, but they were a good solution for landing in adverse areas and conditions. The expanding harpoon heads worked in rock, in dirt, and even to a degree, in sand. They were disruptive to the environment, but right now that was exactly what Jonah needed.
“C’mon, comeon.” Spare parts for the engine, spare parts for the shielding, a box full of—oh, hey, good thing he found those before Cody got curious one day because Jonah didn’t want to explain the use of analogue sex toys to his kid. Ten had probably told him all about them anyway. Harpoon, harp—there.There was …
One. One harpoon. Not even two, to distribute the load. No, he got one fucking harpoon.
Chin up, it’s better than none.
Jonah headed for the casing at the back, the one that had the shallowest angle to overcome. If he could get the harpoon intothat one, he could swivel it so that it landed just a few meters away. The manual controls responded sluggishly to his handling, but the housings for the harpoon and the mag locks were a perfect match, and it didn’t take long to refit.
He’d have to divert a lot of power from one of the generators to get the juice for a good stick, though, and engine containment wasn’t an option as long as they were trapped inside the ship.
So. Emergency beacon or medbot.
“Fuck.”
He had no idea how long they’d be stuck out here. The beacon could bring either good to the rescue or bad down on them so hard they never even saw it coming. The medbot was basic, at its core, but it provided help that Jonah couldn’t even begin to guess about. Then again, it had already recommended a hospital for Lacey. How much better could it do?
In the end, Jonah had the bot identify all the injections he’d need for Lacey, just in case it lost power completely. The ship was wiggling on the rock now, back and forth, helpless to the power of the hurricane. Whether they were on the verge of going over a cliff or not, he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way.
The power reroute was easy. Aiming the harpoon into the darkness and hoping for a stick was harder, but Jonah just took a deep breath, pointed it down, and fired.
The light on the top of the casing glowed green. It was firmly sunk.
The light illuminating the medbot, and Lacey, went dark.
Chapter five
Miles
Miles had forgotten the last time he’d worn his full dress uniform. He hadn’t been active duty with the Marines for, oh, nearly a decade now. What used to feel like a second skin to him now seemed awkward, the medals clinking too loudly against his chest, the epaulets too gaudy, the collar far too tight. He’d have packed the thing away years ago if it weren’t for the fact that Claudia liked him to wear it occasionally, but he’d never kept it on for more than half an hour.
What was enjoyable to do for his wife felt almost too heavy to bear now, but Miles straightened his tie and pulled the corners of his hat crisp before stepping out of the shuttle and marching toward Alliance Central Command. His personal staff fell in around him like bodyguards, the command escort that had been sent to meet him pushed back to the edge of his entourage.
“It’s a full tribunal meeting,” his secretary, Shen Lin, murmured as they walked along. “Very formal. My sources tellme it could go either way in there.” As in,either you could be thrown into command or thrown into the brig.
Miles nodded briskly. “Who’s sitting on the tribunal?”
“General Sokha, Admiral Davenport, and Admiral Rupallier.”
It could have been worse. Miles had served with both Sokha and Davenport. Sokha, in fact, had only come into command of the Alliance Marine Corps because Miles had turned the job down in order to take the position as Paradise’s interim governor. Unfortunately, Sokha knew that and had never been fond of Miles because of it.
Davenport was different; they had been equals when they’d served together, young men just starting out in their careers. Davenport, at least, had no reason to dislike him. Miles might be able to get some answers out of him.
Central Command was half office space, half museum. It seemed like every hallway was littered with monuments to different battles fought or leaders revered. It was considered a high honor to have your face immortalized on the walls of the Alliance’s military hivemind. It was another honor Miles had rejected; once upon a time, he would have literally died to secure his place there, but that was before losing his first wife and almost losing Garrett.
That final close call in particular had reminded Miles that he had so much to live for, all of it so much more important than ensuring his name was carved onto a sterile monument and tucked away into a hall somewhere. His family was the most important thing in the world to him and being called up like this now … well, imprisonment would get him nowhere. He’d have to be careful.
The tribunal was convened in a relatively small conference room just before the enormous lecture hall in the center of the building. Miles entered, walked straight up to the table where the three presiding officers sat, and saluted. “Sirs.”
“General Caractacus.” All three saluted back, but it was Rupallier doing the talking, a bald, pale man who looked like he’d never seen the sun, much less space. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
As if I had a choice.“Of course.”
“Please sit.” In the single chair that would noticeably set him apart from his personal staff. Shen Lin stiffened slightly, but Miles just stepped forward and sat down, removing his hat and setting it on one folded knee.
