Haven Ascendant

by Robert M Kerns

  “You sure you’re not just afraid of him going all ‘kill the organics?’” Scarlett lifted an eyebrow to punctuate her question.

  Cole chuckled. “I’m not afraid of my friends, Scarlett. If I were, then they wouldn’t be friends.”

  Cole stepped past Scarlett and led the way out of the courier.

  Scanning the corridor around him, Cole decided that the station hadn’t really changed all that much in the four years (plus or minus) since he’d been aboard. Unlike most stations, the corridor’s surfaces seemed to carry a coat of grime, and the air carried a scent Cole wasn’t sure should be there. He knew it wasn’t in the air on the more-maintained stations like The Gate in Tristan’s Gate, any of Zurich’s stations, or any of his stations.

  Cole and Scarlett soon entered the station’s main concourse, and Cole couldn’t help but focus on the people moving through the space. No one looked up. There were no smiles. On Citadel Station, the main concourse often had groups of children running, playing, and laughing; here, there were none. And every hundred feet or so, at least one armed pirate wearing Qeecir’s colors stood in silent watch.

  “I’d forgotten how bleak it was here,” Cole remarked, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Scarlett nodded. “It’s bad. I can’t remember the last time I saw a station that had security forces carrying lethal weapons.”

  “Spoiled you, have we?” Cole asked, adding a slight smile.

  “I’m starting to think you have,” Scarlett replied, scanning her surroundings as much as she could without turning her head.

  Qeecir operated out of what had once been the largest club on the station. If the place had a name, it had long since been lost to the mists of time. Qeecir used the space as both an office/throne room and market. No guards stood outside at the entrance, but that was normal. Inside, there’d be a small army.

  Upon entering, Cole stopped and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. After a few moments, he scanned the space, looking for his quarry. It didn’t take long to spot Qeecir; the crime lord of the local region held court in a massive booth at the far-right corner of the room.

  Setting off at a steady pace, Cole led Scarlett across the space, dodging the vacant tables that normally held merchants and their wares, until the two reached the booth where Qeecir sat.

  Qeecir looked up at Cole’s approach, and his expression betrayed nothing of what he thought or felt at seeing Cole after so long a time. Qeecir’s scales were an odd shade of blue-green, and Cole saw he still carried the jagged white scar that ran from the crest of his skull to his left jawline.

  “Well, well…Jax Theedlow,” Qeecir said, the pitch of his voice still hovering around the dividing line between bass and tenor, “it has been a long time. Oh, forgive me. You’re Bartholomew Coleson now.”

  Cole chuckled. “I always was, Qeecir. Jax was just a convenient fiction while I sorted out what I wanted to do with my life.”

  “And building an empire is what you want to do with your life, then?” Qeecir asked. “I could’ve helped with that.”

  “Honestly, Qeecir, I kind of fell into that. My plan at the time I stopped piloting for you was to disappear on a planet somewhere and leave the Coleson heritage behind. But life’s like that; plans never survive contact with it.”

  Qeecir hissed. “‘Stopped piloting for me,’ is it? You stole from me, boy. Did you really think I’d…what is it you Humans say…let bygones be bygones?”

  All joviality and mirth vanished from Cole’s demeanor in an instant. “Be very, very careful with your next words, Qeecir. I’m thinking the next ninety seconds will determine how this conversation ends.”

  “Oh? And why is that?” Qeecir asked. “You came into my lair, boy, and all by yourself at that. Your belief that you have any control over this situation is grossly inaccurate.”

  “Claiming that I’m all by myself isn’t being fair to Scarlett, here,” Cole replied, “but even if she weren’t here, just because I’d be all by myself doesn’t mean that I’d be alone.”

  Cole accessed his implant and initiated a call to Srexx.

  < Yes, Cole? > Cole heard Srexx’s voice in his ears as if he stood directly under one of the speakers aboard Haven.

  “Status?” Cole asked, and Qeecir’s eyes narrowed in response.

  < I am ninety-eight percent finished in my download, Cole. I have all personnel records of Qeecir’s organization and am now collecting his financial information. >

  “Time to completion?” Cole asked, his eyes never leaving Qeecir.

  < By the time we end this call, I should have a complete copy of all data on the station, even the protected archives Qeecir believes to be severed from the primary datanet. >

  “Thanks, buddy. Would you mind passing a message to Sasha for me?”

  < Of course not, Cole. >

  “Please, tell her I said, ‘engage.’”

  < I have just completed my download, Cole, and am passing on your message now. >

  Klaxons erupted throughout the former club as red lights started pulsing. Every guard in the vicinity of Qeecir drew a weapon.

  “What is it?” Qeecir shouted. “Why the alarm?”

  “A massive fleet just appeared, sir!” A nearby individual who bore the look of a tech geek shouted. “They’re broadcasting Beta Magellan transponders!”

  Qeecir’s eyes pivoted back to Cole. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “You would never have cut your losses and left me and mine alone, Qeecir,” Cole replied. “Beta Magellan is annexing Baldur and taking over your station. You have a choice: surrender and live out your life on a prison planet somewhere; or do something stupid and not survive the next five minutes.”

  Just then, the speakers throughout the club (and the station if those present could’ve heard them) chirped and began broadcasting, “Residents of Baldur’s Gate, may I have your attention, please? My name is Sasha Thyrray, and it is my honor to serve as First Officer aboard the battle-carrier Haven. My captain, Bartholomew James Coleson, has annexed this system for Beta Magellan, and our marines are executing a forced boarding to secure the station. Please, sequester yourselves in your homes until further notice; we do not intend harm to any civilians, but this is a very fluid, very dangerous situation. If you are out and about, we cannot guarantee your safety. Thank you; that is all.”

  The speakers chirped again.

  “How dare you!” Qeecir raged as he leaped to his feet, his clawed hands reaching for Cole as he lunged across the table.

  The whine of an energy weapon erupted, and a bright green bolt struck Qeecir square in his chest, burning an inch-and-a-half hole through his torso where his heart once was. The corpse collapsed onto the table, and its momentum carried it off the side to land on its back and stare unblinkingly up at the ceiling. The guards eyed Qeecir’s corpse and then looked to one another.

  Cole turned to see Scarlett holding her pistol. Her eyes flicked from point to point as she kept her finger on the firing stud.

  “Damn, that was a quick draw,” Cole said.

  A partial smile flicked across her lips as Scarlett replied, “Thanks. Never fired one of these before, though; Srexx really knows his sidearms.”

  One of the guards closest to the scene lifted his hand.

  “Yes, dearie?” Scarlett said.

  “I’ve seen his scales shrug off lasers,” the guard said. “What was that?”

  “You know,” Scarlett replied, her tone conveying consideration and a hint of curiosity, “I’m not really sure. I’ve been told it’s one-shot effective against everything up to collapsed-atom materials like neutronium, though. I don’t suppose any of your friends fingering their guns are wearing neutronium body armor, are they?”

  The four or five guards who’d been rubbing their fingertips across their sidearm grips blanched and, using slow deliberate movements, moved their hands away from any weapons and lifted them into the air. Before any more guards could duplicate their associates’ sta
nce, the entrance to the club collapsed inward, and Haven marines charged inside. Scarlett returned her pistol to its holster and smiled at the chatty guard.

  “Thank you for asking, dearie,” Scarlett said, adding a wink. “You probably saved their lives.”

  Within what seemed like mere moments, the marines had Qeecir’s former guards on their knees and disarmed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Baldur’s Gate

  Baldur System

  24 August 3003, 09:23 GST

  Cole stood in the remains of the station administration suite, frowning at the sight before him. What should’ve been a clean, orderly place dedicated to overseeing the day-to-day tasks any station needed to survive was in fact a junk heap. It was a literal junk heap. In his cursory glance alone, Cole identified the pieces of eight different items. He saw the remains of an anti-grav pallet’s power generator. In the corner off his right elbow, a magnetic coil from…well, something…leaned against the bulkhead. Depleted energy cells, emitter coils, fractured catalyst chambers…the only part of the space that wasn’t supporting scrap was the ceiling.

  Cole’s implant alerted him to an incoming call from Sasha. He accepted and used his link to StationNet to route the call to the compartment’s audio system.

  At least the station’s computer was in tip-top shape. Srexx wouldn’t tell him what state it was in when they arrived, but some of the systems people aboard Haven assured Cole the station’s computer and its accompanying datanet were now pristine.

  “Well, the station administration suite is trashed,” Cole said by way of a greeting.

  “That’s not all,” Sasha replied, and Cole felt a pit form in his stomach. “Our techs are having a problem tracking that odd smell you reported. They sent images of the environmental systems, and we’re now fabricating emergency atmo systems to support the station’s population until we can correct the problem. From the looks of it, the whole environmental plant was limping along on the brink of catastrophic failure; what we’re hearing is they spent half the day—every day—keeping the system working. And don’t even get me started on the algae beds; I’m pretty sure it would be more accurate to call it stagnant pond scum.”

  Cole closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “So, bottom line…is the station salvageable? Do we need Sev to send out an emergency crew for a temporary station while we build a new one?”

  “Our people are still carrying out their engineering evaluation,” Sasha replied. “I’m not sure we have a definitive answer on that yet. I have seen Chief Engineer Logan muttering prayers, though; I think we’re up to twelve in the last hour.”

  Cole frowned. “I didn’t know Max was all that religious.”

  “I’m not sure he was…at least not until he started reading reports from the field assessment teams.”

  Cole blinked, asking, “Do we have the lift capacity to evacuate this station if we need to?”

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that. We’re still working on an accurate nose count. Qeecir apparently had slave pens in the lower levels of the station.”

  “Okay. I’m not waiting. Send word to Painter. I want every available freighter to re-configure for emergency shelters and head here at maximum speed. What’s the status on control of the system?”

  “The fighters are back aboard,” Sasha answered. “We have complete and total space superiority in this system.”

  “Well, there’s that at least,” Cole replied. “I may have to leave Haven here with you in command of the system and take some ships to Qeecir’s mine.”

  Silence settled onto the comms call.

  “Sasha?” Cole asked.

  “Might I suggest picking a senior officer as task force commander in your stead?” Sasha asked at last. “The people on the station are starting to come out of their quarters, and they seem to be responding well to your presence and the new laws for the system we published. If you leave now, it may undermine what little progress we’ve made with the populace.”

  Cole sighed. “Yeah…I suppose you have a point. Okay then. Split the combined system pickets into two groups: five pickets and four. Make sure the group of five has a reliable, experienced commander, and they’ll move on Qeecir’s mine. The group of four will serve as a reinforced picket for Baldur. With Haven and the battlegroup hovering around the station, let’s keep three of the pickets near a jump gate with the last one patrolling the system. Have we canvassed the asteroid fields and planetoids in the system? I don’t want anyone left hiding who could create problems later.”

  “Yes,” Sasha replied. “There was a matter involving a few asteroids in the outer field, but that’s been resolved. Might I suggest we discuss that later?”

  So, there was something about it Sasha didn’t want to discuss on an open call. Fair enough.

  “That’s fine, Sasha,” Cole said. “My days of wading through scrap piles are over, though. Let’s get some people in here to clear out this space, so the engineers can evaluate it when they arrive.”

  “Aye, sir,” Sasha answered.

  A marine approached Cole’s left elbow and stood at parade rest a respectful distance away. Cole nodded in greeting to the woman and said, “Sasha, I have a marine at my elbow. I should probably see what that’s about. Is there anything else?”

  “I think we’ve covered everything, sir.”

  “Alrighty. Thanks. Cole out.” Cole turned to the newly arrived marine. “And how can I help you today?”

  The marine snapped to attention, saying, “Sir! Private First Class Dorya Leshi reporting. Captain Otecji offers her compliments and asks if you have time to visit the command center, sir. A group of civilians has approached her, claiming to be the council for the station’s residents.”

  Cole nodded. “Good call. I was wondering when we’d see something like this. Lead the way, if you please.”

  “Sir!” PFC Leshi replied, adding a nod that wasn’t quite a salute before executing a parade-ground-perfect about-face pivot and striding out of the compartment.

  It took a little over ten minutes to reach the command center for the station’s occupation force, and make no mistake, circumstances still very much rated the label ‘occupation force.’ Patrols still found hold-outs and pockets of resistance, and Cole was sure it would be a while yet before things truly settled.

  The moment Cole stepped into the command center, every marine present snapped to attention. Cole fought the urge to grind his teeth at the display, because he never wanted anything like that for himself, but he paused for a moment and sought out the senior-most present with his eyes and nodded once. That individual—a lieutenant—returned Cole’s nod and went back to what he’d been doing when Cole arrived; the rest of the marines followed suit.

  PFC Leshi led Cole across the compartment to a hatch. She rapped on the hatch twice with her left hand before keying the controls to open with her right. The moment the hatch started cycling, she pivoted and moved aside.

  Cole stepped through the hatch and found himself in a conference room. The five marines in the compartment snapped to attention at Cole’s entrance, while a collection of people in ragged and dirty clothes watched from their seats. Cole made eye contact with the woman wearing captain’s bars and nodded once; she returned the nod and relaxed, the other marines relaxing with her.

  “Sir,” the captain said as she stepped around the table to greet him, “I’m Captain Cera Otecji, commanding the security force for the station.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Captain,” Cole replied, offering a handshake that Otecji accepted. “PFC Leshi said you have representatives of the station’s residents.”

  “Yes, sir,” Captain Otecji said, turning back to the conference table. “They approached us this morning.”

  Cole took one step toward the table and the seven occupants who eyed him warily. He nodded in greeting, saying, “Hello. I’m Bartholomew James Coleson. I’m glad you came to us; I was afraid I’d have to put out a call for representatives over the station
’s public address system.”

  One of the people—a woman of middle age with a glare in her eye—locked eyes with Cole, asking, “So, just answer me this: what gives you the right to claim our home?”

  Cole blinked. “Uhm…that would be interstellar law. This system was listed as unclaimed/unaligned in the System Registry, and there are no records of any potential claim even being filed, let alone finalized claims.”

  “We’ve been here far, far longer than you,” the woman countered. “Don’t you think that gives us the right to this system? After all, pretty much every person on this station was born here…well, the people you haven’t locked up, and good riddance to those bastards anyway.”

  Cole scanned the faces of everyone at the table before returning his gaze to the woman. She was clearly the spokesperson for the group before him and possibly held considerable sway within the station community at large. He had to get this just right, or he’d have a bigger mess on his hands than the station’s environmental systems.

  Cole took the few steps necessary to reach the chair closest to the speaker. He pulled the chair back from the table and sat, leaning forward toward her and resting his elbows on the chair arms.

  “I hear what you’re saying and I understand your concerns,” Cole said. “Please, believe me when I say I have no intention of being an ass about this. To be completely honest, I was in something of a bind, myself. I knew Qeecir ran this system, and I knew there was nothing I could do to keep him from posing a perennial threat to anyone wanting to trade or visit or what-have-you with Beta Magellan. I also knew there were innocent people in this system, who’d lived here their whole lives. I explained the situation to my people in Beta Magellan and our surrounding systems and laid out our options as I saw them; the majority of votes came back in support of annexing this system and removing Qeecir and his organization as a threat.