The Admiral and the Assistant

Captain Cohrmere stood on the bridge of his ship, the ISS Helix, with the image of Admiral Stonefist projected on his bridge monitor. Admiral Stonefist's face was as stony as his name.

"You understand the situation, Captain?" he said.

"I understand, sir," Captain Cohrmere said. "Every man of the Wraithfleet has taken the oath. Not one will shirk his duty. We will die to defend the Imperium." He saluted sharply. "My all for the Imperium! All hail the Imperium!"

"Very good," Admiral Stonefist said, returning the salute.

"Admiral, I've discussed with the other Captains of the Wraithfleet, and there's something we want to offer. Something that might help ease your concerns about using our fleet in battle."

"Oh?"

The Captain pressed a few buttons on his console. Soon, some data appeared in front of Admiral Stonefist.

"Admiral, we've reworked our reactors some. We've used some of the jumphole devices from our roadbuilder torpedoes and wired them directly to our reactors. The code we've sent will activate those devices across the Wraithfleet.

"What does this mean?" Admiral Stonefist asked, frowning at the data.

"With that code, sir, you can make the Wraithfleet go away."

Admiral Stonefist's face hardened.

"What do you mean 'go away?'"

"Just that sir. Initiate that code, and the entire Wraithfleet will drop into jumpspace."

Admiral Stonefist bristled. "You think I'm that callous? That I'd just throw you all back into that torment? That I'd--"

"No, sir. Jumpspace is not torment, for us." Captain Cohrmere struggled visibly for a moment. "It's not... like you experience it. We don't fear to travel through the jumpholes. The only danger is that we don't want to come out. For you, jumpspace is torment, but for us it's comfort. It's home."

Admiral Stonefist stared at Captain Cohrmere, shock and horror written across his face.

"You want to go back into jumpspace?"

Captain Cohrmere saluted.

"It's where we belong, Admiral. It's where we all want to go. Some of the men say... we never really left. We're not really here, if you catch my meaning. If you determine that we're a danger, if we do something that puts the Imperium at risk, then every man of the Wraithfleet has agreed to be to be sent home."

Admiral Stonefist looked at the code scrolling by, his lips tight.

"I appreciate you trying to ease my conscience, Captain. But I would not use such a thing except at great need." He swept the code off the bridge monitor. "Now, form up, and let's run some exercises. I want to integrate your ships as best as we can with the rest of the fleet."

Captain Cohrmere nodded and began issuing commands to warm up the ship and prepare for mock combat.

The fleet formed up again. They began carefully stepping through the exercises they'd been through a hundred times already. Captain Cohrmere's mouth tightened.

They would do it right this time. They had to. For the Imperium. For the Wraithfleet.

Cohrmere could tell Admiral Stonefist's temper was already short, as soon as the exercises began. He reflected the sentiment. What were these meaningless maneuvers supposed to do? The Wraithfleet knew the old formations. They couldn't learn the new ones. And their-- well, Admiral Stonefist called them "resets," which seemed a good enough word-- their "resets" were a danger and a hindrance to the whole fleet. Even though Cohrmere had no idea what Grimthorn was talking about.

In less than an hour, Admiral Stonefist was visibly frayed.

"All right, let's stop here," he barked over the comms.

"Yes, Admiral," Captain Cohrmere said stiffly.

On the screen, Cohrmere saw the Admiral's Assistant tap his elbow. The audio went silent as the Admiral muted himself. She said something, the Admiral had an animated reply. They had a heated exchange, all in awkward silence.

Captain Cohrmere ground his teeth. Was this what he was reduced to? Watching a marital spat in silence while the fleet sat dead in space? Was this what the Navy had come to?

Was this all that was left for the Wraithfleet?

"Very well!" Admiral Stonefist's voice suddenly blared across the bridge, making everyone start. "Under the advice of my Assistant, we will try something new." Admiral Stonefist took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Captain... I want you to try to perform one of your resets."

"Sir?"

"Deliberately reset, please," he said. "My Assistant-- we believe this may represent a useful tactic in the coming battle."

Captain Cohrmere's eyes widened a little in panic. Deliberately perform a reset? But he still had no idea what they even looked like from the outside, much less how to start one.

"Admiral, I'm not sure how we can..."

"In your own time, Captain," Admiral Stonefist said.

Captain Cohrmere nodded. He looked around the bridge, mirroring the confused faces that looked back at him.

Captain Cohrmere thought back. When resets had happened before, what had been going on?

First had been the collision between three vessels. Next had been the attack exercise. He closed his eyes. It was nothing technological. The technology couldn't even record it. It wasn't a maneuver. It wasn't a jumphole. It wasn't any confluence of gravity or any natural phenomenon.

It wasn't any of those things. It was a feeling. It was an overwhelming sense of what must not be.

He drew in a deep breath. Waves of sensation sleeted through him. Ever since they'd been rescued, he could feel, at the edges of his mind, a strange pining, an unnatural affinity for jumpspace. He always felt on the edge of scrambled thoughts, clouding his mind. He'd been shying away from it. It wasn't normal. It was something that he'd been avoiding, recoiling away from, fearing.

Now, with the Wraithfleet and the Imperium hanging in the balance, he embraced it.

"Bridge crew," he said quietly. "This is an order from your Captain. We have held ourselves to realspace. Now, as captain, I'm asking each and every one of you, individually. Let go. Open yourself to what you have been feeling."

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In his mind's eye, he sensed a white flare as someone on the bridge opened their mind. Another flared brightly. And another. And another. Clarity surged in his thoughts. This was what they were meant for. This was right.

When he considered the future, what would happen, he could see the tangled lines of probability in his mind. He watched them clarify, straighten, march steadily onward.

With his eyes still closed, he opened comms to the rest of the ship.

"All hands," he said. "For months now, since our rescue, we have tried to return to normalcy. We cannot. We are no longer normal, and never will be. Embrace the change. Don't hold back any longer. Let us become what we are meant to be. Let us become what we are."

He felt the ISS Helix blaze to life around him. Lightness and energy rushed through the crew. The ship itself, from the deck plates to the shielding, became part of their consciousness. They glowed with ethereal light in the eye of his mind.

Captain Cohrmere smiled.

"There it is," he said. Energy surged through the ship, through the crew, through him.

He opened his eyes.

The Admiral and his Assistant were staring at him with horrified looks.

"Captain... do you need to go to med?" Admiral Stonefist asked hesitantly.

Captain Cohrmere smiled.

"Of course not." He breathed deeply, feeling for the first time that he really understood the joy of breathing, the marvel of air. The fascination of the physical world around him. "Why do you ask?"

"Sir," Kinnit said. "Your eyes..."

Captain Cohrmere looked at his bridge crew. Their eyes turned to him, all of them shock white from edge to edge.

"My eyes are fine, Lieutenant. Everything now is... clear." He activated the controls on his console without looking. "Admiral, we are ready to begin the exercise again."

Admiral Stonefist raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Is everything okay?"

"I am very sure."

Slowly, Admiral Stonefist began the training exercise again. They went through the preliminaries, then the Swordheart drove in with an aggressive attack, a signature Stonefist maneuver.

The Helix was already miles away. Admiral Stonefist's attack drove through empty space.

The Swordheart wheeled, slowly but steadily, coming around to bring its main cannon to bear, but the Helix was suddenly behind it-- had already been behind it-- in the Swordheart's vulnerable spot.

"We have you, Admiral," Captain Cohrmere said.

Admiral Stonefist stiffened on the screen.

"Very well," he said. "Again."

They went through mock battle after mock battle, maneuvering, shifting through space. The Helix danced under Captain Cohrmere's hands. He no longer needed to issue orders. The crew worked with a single purpose, a single will. Like the fingers of a single hand, they acted as one, fulfilling the will of the ship. The Helix flickered around the Swordheart, constantly staying just out of range, constantly getting into an advantageous position.

With the rush of power came a new sensation. It was a gap, a feeling of loss, a deep need, as though something were missing. Time here was so crude and limited and linear. There was a call, a pining for the place they'd left.

Jumpspace was calling them home.

Captain Cohrmere pushed away those thoughts and focused on the exercises, continuing to dominate the Swordheart.

At last, the exercises came to an end. Not once had the Swordheart bested the Helix.

Admiral Stonefist stood silent, watching them for a long moment.

"I've misjudged the Wraithfleet, Captain," he said finally. He laid a hand on Kinnit's back. "I have my Assistant to thank for setting me right on that. I'll ask you to take your... whatever it is you've learned, take that to the rest of the Wraithfleet."

"Of course, Admiral."

A new expression appeared on Admiral Stonefist's face, one that Captain Cohrmere had not seen in quite some time.

It looked like hope. For the first time since news of Brolla had come through, the Admiral looked hopeful.

Grimthorn and Kinnit sat in their office. Kinnit was busily working at her console, but Grimthorn was staring off into space.

"Admiral, the repairs for the Ocher Dawn are nearly completed," Kinnit said. "It will be ready tomorrow."

"Very good," Grimthorn replied with a distracted air.

"Should we let Captain Minius know? Sir?"

Grimthorn snapped back to reality.

"Hmm? Oh, I've already instructed Captain Minius to practice with his ship once repairs are done." He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. "The... flight characteristics he's used to will have changed."

"Of course, sir." Kinnit peered at her messages. "According to reports, Admiral Cora Din is still in a biopod, but she's stable. It will probably be a few weeks for her to heal. Lieutenant Solborne is in med, but she's in a lot better shape than the Admiral." Kinnit sighed. "I'm so glad the ISS Striker survived the battle, even if it can't fly any more." She blinked away tears. "I'm glad Lena's going to be okay."

"Mmhmm," Grimthorn said, his eyes fixed on the far wall.

She looked at him. "Grimthorn? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course, it's fine."

"What's on your mind?"

"Just... recent events." He frowned in thought. "I'm not sure how this is going to go. But now, with the Wraithfleet doing their... whatever it is they're doing... could we stand against the Feeders?"

Kinnit smiled brightly.

"We're a lot closer than we were a few days ago!" she said.

"Even so, we don't have the firepower to do much damage to that Feeder ship." He stared back into the distance. "But still..."

Kinnit smiled at him. She decided to leave him to his ruminations. She could harass him with work when he'd had some time to process everything.

She began going through messages, and almost immediately broke her silent promise.

"Grimthorn!" she said.

He snapped his attention back to her again.

"What's wrong?"

"The Emperor! Have you seen?"

"What?"

She bounced out of her seat and danced over to his desk.

"Grimthorn, bring up your messages!" She bumped his shoulder. He reluctantly pulled up the messages on his console.

Kinnit's mouth dropped open. Hundreds of unread messages scrolled by.

"What's all this? Grimthorn, have you not been reading your messages?"

He shrugged uncomfortably.

"We've had a lot going on," he said moodily.

"Well go down," she said. "Get to today's messages." He scrolled down through the list. "There! That one!" She pointed at his screen. "Read that message!"

Grimthorn's brow furrowed as he read through details. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

"That law has been killed," he said. "Along with the Imperial Council," he noted.

"Right? Look, and look, the Emperor codified that 'human' refers to any sentient species of the Imperium! They can't try to pull that legal maneuver again."

Grimthorn smiled. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"I'm glad," he said.

Kinnit smirked. "I told you the Emperor would never do anything like that."

Grimthorn laughed. "Thank you. I... needed some positive news today."

Kinnit held him for a bit. Her eyes drifted to his console.

"Grimthorn... when's the last time you cleared your messages?"

He shrugged, disrupting their hug a bit.

"Does it matter?"

"It could. I bet a nice clean message list would help clear your mind."

Grimthorn quirked a half-smile.

"Sounds like some of that pop psychology."

"No, they've done actual studies where--" she paused and peered at him. "Grimthorn Stonefist, are you making fun of me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said with a barely suppressed smile. But he started navigating through his messages.

He quickly scanned a few. His brow wrinkled.

"What is all this?" He flipped through a few more.

"Grimthorn? What's wrong?"

"These messages." He flipped through. "They're from garrisons... private security... all kinds of organizations."

"What do you mean?"

He turned and looked up at her, standing over him. His face had a strange, almost stricken expression.

"They're offers of help."

Kinnit frowned.

"Help?"

"Yes, they're..." He flipped through a dozen more. "They're offering ships, materials, weapons... this restaurant's even offering to bring a couple hundred meals to the fleet. It's like the whole Imperium is offering to help." His expression was mystified, almost troubled, as though he couldn't even conceive of what was happening.

"Well that's... good, isn't it, Grimthorn?"

"It's... yeah." He sat back. "Twenty years I've commanded the Ninth Fleet. We've always stood alone. Was this... were people like this the whole time? Was that all we needed, was a reason to come together?"

Kinnit laughed gently and squeezed him around the shoulders.

"People of the Imperium have always been like that, Grimthorn. The Imperial Navy has protected them for so many years, now the Navy's in trouble and they want to do what they can to return the favor."

Grimthorn sat in shock.

"It's been so long." His eyes were moist as he stared at the huge list of messages. "Is this real? Do the people really support us?"

Kinnit kissed the top of his head.

"They always have, my wonderful husband."