Free The Tabit Genesis by Tony Gonzales

Captain Ishiin had never fired a weapon outside of a training sim. He had been promoted simply because of the blood in his veins.
    ‘You don’t think about fighting for your life,’ Wyllym said. ‘You just move from one decision to the next.’
    Captain Yoto Ishiin frowned as he mulled this answer.
    ‘They say you shot down six Ceti corvettes and many more gunships before …’
    ‘Before I died?’ Wyllym said.
    ‘Yes. Is that true?’
    Wyllym had been barely a month into his own command then, patrolling the privateer outposts in the Hera Belt when Ceti descended upon his corvette
Santiago.
They attacked
in packs of three, indiscriminately destroying civilian and military targets in the rings. As the Navy rushed to divert ships to Hera, Wyllym battled against odds that should have killed him instantly. Instead, he somehow knew where to manoeuvre the
Santiago
to avoid hull-shattering cannon fire, and he was doing it impossibly faster than any computer.
    It was strange enough that he seemed to know what the enemy was going to do before they did themselves. But while he fought, Wyllym declared that the Ceti fleet attacking the Hera outposts was a diversion, and warned Navy Command that Brotherhood Station was in danger even though it was millions of kilometres away.
    This was the red flag the Navy was looking for. The telemetry of what Wyllym Lyons was accomplishing – singlehandedly mauling one Ceti ship after the next – triggered a secret protocol whose urgency exceeded the outcome of the battle itself: the captain of the
Santiago
had to be recovered, dead or alive, because it was clear that he possessed the Gift.
    ‘I remember a rock the size of a frigate tumbling towards me,’ Wyllym said. ‘Next thing I knew I was in a medbay with a bunch of doctors telling me six months had gone by. They said I died a few times. I have no idea. You’ll have to ask them.’
    Captain Ishiin shook his head.
    ‘You must possess extraordinary skill,’ he said. ‘They’ve never gone through such trouble to bring a man back before.’
    ‘Might wish they hadn’t, depending on how the Gryphons turn out,’ Wyllym said.
    ‘I doubt that,’ Yoto said. ‘Is it true your students are all as …
Gifted
as you?’
    ‘It’s a classified programme,’ Wyllym said. All his students had the Gift, though some used it better than others.
    ‘My crew really does admire you,’ Yoto said. ‘I confess, I am somewhat envious. There are few enough opportunities for a captain to accomplish what you have.’
    ‘A crew has to respect you before they’ll admire you,’ Wyllym said.
    In spite of the insult, Captain Ishiin smiled pleasantly while the sound of hydraulics and metal gears rumbled through the bridge.
    ‘We’re almost there,’ he said, strapping on a five-point harness. He flashed one of the belt straps towards Wyllym, gesturing that he should do the same. Then all the seats on the bridge rotated to face the rear of the ship.
    ‘You’re accustomed to Gryphon braking manoeuvres,’ Captain Ishiin said. ‘So this should be no bother.’
    Wyllym felt the impulse drive beneath the
Belgrade
ignite, and the bridge instruments indicated the wingtip vectoring thrusters were doing the same: the ship was executing an emergency high-G burndown. With barely enough time to fasten his own straps, unrelenting pressure mashed him into his seat, pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness. Crushing agony stretched seconds into hours and stamped the breath from his lungs; waves of bone-crushing pain tested his will to survive. After what seemed like an eternity, the pressure finally let up.
    ‘I hope that wasn’t too unpleasant,’ Captain Ishiin announced, as the bridge seats all resumed their forward positions. ‘The Navy requires us to perform these burndowns to maintain combat readiness. It couldn’t be avoided.’
    ‘I’m…sure,’ Wyllym stammered, as the tunnel vision subsided. Captain Ishiin was slightly out of breath, but