Free Virtues of War by Bennett R. Coles Page A

pilot, could help move things along. He did another routine sweep of his controls, then unstrapped from his seat. It wasn’t like there was much traffic way out here to worry about. He swung himself around, and peered back into the main compartment.
    He had three passengers today—the best and brightest of
Armstrong
’s science staff—all moving with the awkwardness of those used to the comfort of a ship with artificial gravity. Chief Lopez was floating near one of the control panels, typing instructions. He had a tight, red face. Lieutenant Helena Grey hovered over him, watching the screen very carefully. She was the ship’s science officer, which apparently made her the most brilliant scientist too. At least, it seemed as if every academic discussion eventually went her way.
    Jack stole a glance at his third passenger, Sublieutenant Amanda Smith. She caught his eye and smiled, her bright eyes revealing a mixture of apology and sad humor. He smiled quickly and looked away. A subbie like him, she was about his age and was one of the only people who actually chatted with him when off-duty.
    “Hey, guys.” He drifted slowly aft into the main cabin. “I had an idea about how I could help out.”
    Helena looked up in irritation. “I’ll tell you when we’re ready.”
    Jack gestured back toward the cockpit. “We’ve only got so much fuel. I was just thinking that maybe I could start sowing the probes now, while you get set up.”
    Helena rolled her eyes. “No,” she said. “When you set up an experiment you don’t mess with the environment. You don’t start it with fluid parameters and you wait… Until. Everything’s. Ready.”
    Jack fought down his frustration and glided back to his seat. If he’d waited until he was “ready” before launching gravi-torpedoes on the Centauri stealth ships…
    He checked the flight controls, hunt controls, and the visual. Then he noticed Amanda floating into his peripheral. She still wore a pretty smile, even though her face was heavy with fatigue. Between work, standing watch, and studying, Jack doubted she had any time to sleep.
    “Don’t worry.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “They don’t listen to me either.”
    He tried to laugh. “Maybe when you finally get your PhD you’ll be taken seriously.”
    Her smile vanished. “Point taken.” Looking more tired than ever, she pushed off and retreated into the main compartment.
    He sighed, amazed anew at his ability for obtuseness, and nervous habit drew his hand across his face. Even six weeks after the surgery, he still expected to feel the unnatural bumps of re-knitted bone. No scars, the doctors had said. No one would ever know.
    He saw his reflection in one of the blank screens on his hunt controls. His unruly brown hair was the same, his eyes were still his, and the muscles in his reconstructed face all moved appropriately… but it
wasn’t
him. It never would be again.
    The scream of the collision alarm jolted him from his thoughts. A small craft was bearing down on the Hawk at high speed.
    How long had it been there?
    There was no time to assess.
    He grabbed the stick, yanked hard to starboard and pushed the throttles forward. G-forces tried to wrench him from his seat and he vaguely heard crashes and shouts behind him. The incoming craft flashed past. He reversed his turn and hauled around to port, straining to get a visual. He saw a single, obscuring shadow moving right to left against the backdrop of stars, and he tightened his turn to intercept, flipping his external communications circuit.
    “Unknown vessel, this is Terran Warship Eagle-One,” he said tersely. “State your intentions, over.”
    No response filtered through the faint crackle of deep space, but he saw sunlight flicker off an edge of the shadow, indicating an aspect shift. A new alarm flashed on his console. He was being radiated.
    He flicked open the countermeasures switch and pressed the button. The Hawk’s hull shuddered three