by Andrew Beery
“Aye Sir. May I ask what you’re thinking?”
“We have multiple factions fighting it out. We don’t know what separates the factions. It could be as simple as one side doesn’t like what their orders are. It could be one side wants to be a lot rougher than the other. Hell, it could be one side wants to be in charge. Mashuta is the major player here but certainly not the only player.”
I heard a gentle cough next to me. Arquat had turned to face me. I have to be honest; I had forgotten he was there. The cough startled me. That was happening a lot more often than I remember. I suspected my body was still getting used to giving up the bottle… especially during times of high stress.
“Colonel, we are being hailed,” the AI said.
“Let me guess… by the Javan.”
“You are correct. Shall I open a channel to Captain Deborah?”
I nodded. “On the main viewscreen if you would.”
A middle-aged woman with a touch of grey in her hair and a no-nonsense, stern face shimmered into existence holographically in front of me. She was Battleborn Navy and not Marine, so she carried a naval rank. I could see she was an O5 Commander from her shoulder board. That said, as the master of her ship, she was rightly called Captain.
I suppose given my role on the Defiant, I could use that title too. The problem was a navel captain and a captain in the Marines were entirely different ranks. The former was an O6 and the latter was an O3. Ranks got complicated between branches of the military. There had been talk of conversion to a uniform military rank system, but it never seemed to go anywhere.
I shook my head. My mind tended to wander off on its own volition sometimes. Focus Tad. Focus.
I addressed the hologram. If she noticed my distraction, she was good enough not to say anything.
“Captain Deborah, I presume. I have to admit; your recent actions have raised a series of questions as to your loyalties and intent. Can I assume your call is to provide clarification?”
“You have an interesting way of distilling a complex situation down to a handful of words… Colonel Riker, I presume.”
“That’s interesting. My mother used to use ‘handful’ in describing me as well. I suspect it may be genetic.”
“I’m sure she did and I’m sure it is,” the holographic image of the woman commanding the Javan responded with a bemused smile before continuing. “I understand you have the Princess Tange under your protection. I would like to be allowed to have a brief audience with her.”
“You seemed remarkably well informed,” I replied as I signaled the Master Gunny to call the Princess. “Care to share your source?”
The captain of the Javan looked at me carefully before answering.
“I would prefer to keep that to myself for the moment, at least. Will you permit me to talk with Her Highness?”
“She’s already been called. She is currently serving as our Chief Physician and was tending a patient.”
Captain Deborah raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. I’m surprised. I had no idea she had that level of medical training.”
I smiled briefly. It wasn’t a big smile. It was a ‘there’s more to this than you know’ smile.
“I think you’ll find we have a number of surprises.”
About that time, the turbolift doors opened and Tange stepped onto the Bridge.
“You called, Colonel?”
“Your Highness permit me to introduce Captain Michele Deborah of the Javan. She wishes the privilege of an audience.”
Tange stepped forward. She was stilled dressed in surgical scrubs which seemed to be her preferred attire of late.
“Captain,” Tange said in an imperial voice that I hadn’t heard in a while. Somehow, she managed to look regal even in the scrubs.
“Your Highness,” the holographic image said with the slightest of bows. “It is my honor to meet you. Sadly, I must insist on your immediate and complete surrender.”
Colonel Clarkson was furious. Not only had the taskforce not dealt with Riker but the force itself was dealing with a mutiny within its ranks. If reports from his spies were to be believed, some upstart captain had murdered Admiral James and taken control of the taskforce.
He and his fresh taskforce were still three quarters of a day out but the first thing he would instruct Admiral Forest to do was to end this usurper and take control of the entire unified taskforce.
Chapter 19: A Treacherous Part
“READY ALL WEAPONS!” I barked.
“NO WAIT!” Captain Deborah shouted. “Please, Your Highness. Hear me out.”
Tange strode forward and rested a hand on the arm of my command chair. She was the absolute picture of confidence and command, but I knew she was hiding a nervousness that she dared not show. The hand on my chair was simply a way to draw strength.
“Give me one reason why I should not order this ship with its vastly superior weapons to blow you out of my sky?”
“Because, Your Highness, I’m on your side.”
I was thinking to myself… self this lady sure has a funny way of declaring loyalties.
“There is a second taskforce on its way. They are less than a day away. My force, eleven ships strong will stand with you but we will be facing another fifty ships. You may have superior weapons and shields, but my forces do not. Against that number of opponents, we will be wiped out.”
“What do you suggest?” Tange asked.
Before the Captain of the Javan could answer her bridge shook and she fell out of view of the holographic pickup. A moment later she was back in view but there was a bloody gash on her forehead. Her bridge continued to shake, and sparks began to shower down from shorting powerlines in the ceiling.
“Weapons target the Copperhead. Helm move us bout so we can use our railgun. Communications open a channel to the fleet,” the holographic image ordered. The conversation with the Princess was forgotten while she dealt with an understandably more dire situation.
We could see her bridge shake again and then we lost the commlink. Apparently one of the ships in her break-away taskforce was still loyal to the Mashuta coalition. The ESS Copperhead had shifted away from the others and was targeting the Javan from point-blank range.
To be honest, I wasn’t surprised that there was a traitor in her midst. It was common practice for Battleborn contingents to include shills from competing conglomerates. The Javan herself had been the shill in the trapped group.
Technically we all worked for the Queen, but nobody was naïve enough to actually believe that was the way it worked.
“Sir,” Thompson said as I was about to order the Master Gunny to target the Copperhead with our weapons. “Three more ships have broken free of the gravity restraints. They are moving to bracket the Javan. They will be in weapon’s range in under thirty seconds.”
“Mel, target the lead ship and take them out,” I ordered.
It looked like the bad guys wanted to do this the hard way. I felt and heard the familiar thrumming as the Defiant fired her railgun. A moment later I could see the KEWs slam into the target’s shields as the shields flared in response to the onslaught.
Moments later those shields were overwhelmed and collapsed. The Master Gunny adjusted her aim and took out their engines.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Javan’s taskforce engaged the Copperhead giving Captain Deborah’s ship some much needed respite.
The Master Gunny continued to target the ships that were fleeing our net. The second ship was taken out as well. Unfortunately for the crew of that ship a reactor core breach resulted in an explosion that signaled the death of over sixty men and women.
Before the third ship could be targeted, they powered down their weapons and engines.
“Sir, the Copperhead is signally her surrender as is the remainder of the Mashuta fleet,” Arquat announced. “They are requesting terms.”
I looked over at the Princess.
“Don’t look at me. I’m just a doctor not a Marine,” she said.
I nodd
ed. I had expected as much. She had given military command to me and she was, above all else, a lady of her word.
“Arquat open a channel to all ships.”
“Channel open Colonel.”
“This is Colonel Riker commanding the Earth Starship Defiant. Surrendering ships will power down their primary systems including weapons, shields and fusion reactors. The crews will abandon ship and set course in your survival pods for Epidamnus.
“You will be treated fairly as prisoners of war until all hostilities are concluded. Failure to comply with these terms will result in your destruction. You have ten minutes to comply. Riker out.”
I signaled the Founder AI to cut the link.
“Jamie monitor their progress on sensors. If any of them so much as farts aggressively, let me know immediately.”
“Roger that Sir. Monitoring for offense flatulence now,” my sensor tech said in a deadpan voice that brought the quickest hint of a smile to the Princess’s face.
“Open a channel to the Javan. Her Highness has an unfinished conversation with her captain.”
***
Captain Deborah, I and Tange spent the better part of the next hour discussing the situation. With the approach of a second major taskforce the plan was to fake the capture of the Defiant. The Javan and her task force would escort the Defiant, seemingly under the command of the good captain herself.
At that point, corporate politics were expected to rear its ugly head. The commander of the relief fleet would undoubtedly want to shepherd the greatest technological windfall in the history of Azul back to the homeworld himself. He would probably insist on a personal inspection of the Defiant. It would be an inspection he would never forget.
With that taken care of we moved onto the local situation. We had a small fleet of perfectly good but abandoned starships. We also had a hundred or more escape pods slowly making their way to Epidamnus. Finally, we had a population that would likely not be kindly disposed to the occupants of those escape pods. All three situations required immediate addressing.
Here is where the Princess showed her true mettle. Where I would have attacked the situation with a metaphorical hammer; she approached the situation with the finesse of a feather.
She expertly negotiated with the domed populations to accept the ships as reparations. Within the hour, civilian replacement crews were on their way to claim the abandoned warships.
She also granted by royal decree full freedom from indentured servitude for everybody on both Epidamnus and Syracuse. Those warships would help them maintain their freedom.
All she had required was a promise to negotiate in good faith for access to their vital refined tritium. Not surprisingly the Mashuta domes which had not been targeted during the assault joined with their TransCorp brethren in declaring their independence from their corporate overlords.
I was given the task of dealing with the escape pods that would soon be landing. I spent some time… and let me add for the record… frustrating time… on a call with the various Chiefs of Police.
In short order, they were going to have roughly five or six hundred visitors arriving in escape pods. I tried to explain that it was in the best interest of all to simply assimilate the newcomers. If they tried to put them on trial and word got out, then it would become increasingly more difficult to get the bad guys to surrender. Getting the bad guys to surrender was better for everybody.
The logic seemed inescapable to me, but emotions were involved. If there is anything, I have learned over the years it’s that where emotions are involved logic rarely applies.
In the end I simply ran out of time. I could only hope that the calmer heads that had been a part of our discussion would be the ones that prevailed.
The relief fleet was only four hours out. If we were going to pull off the ruse, we were hoping to pull off… we needed to set things in motion.
Horse and I met Captain Deborah’s shuttle at the forward docking port. The Defiant had three such ports as well as a small cargo hanger that could accommodate a couple of small single-person flyers. We would be making use of that hanger shortly.
As the airlock began to cycle, I heard the familiar but unexpected sound of a Marine Encounter Suit. I turned and saw the Master Gunny approach wearing the MES. I gave her points for taking the initiative. That said, I think she has trust issues. I didn’t say anything. There was no point. Rank didn’t always matter to a Gunny and even less frequently to a Master Gunny… and even less frequency to this Master Gunny.
“Afternoon Master Gunny,” Horse said with a twinkle in his eye. “Wonderful day for a stroll in armor.”
“It’s always a good day for a stroll in armor, Major.”
“Indeed, it is,” he replied.
Thankfully the airlock door’s status light turned green and the hatch unsealed.
A surprisingly short woman in her mid-fifties stepped through the hatch. She was followed by two men… a commander and a lieutenant.
“Permission to come onboard, Captain?” the Javan’s CO asked as per protocol. She rendered a salute at the same time.
“Permission granted,” I said as I returned the salute. “If you don’t mind, please address me as Colonel or just simply Tad.”
She raised an eyebrow but said, “Your ship, your rules. Permit me to introduce my tactical officer, Lieutenant Ed Heidman, and my first officer, Commander Jeff Martinescu.”
“Gentlemen, Captain… welcome onboard the Defiant. Permit me to introduce my first officer, Major Eugene Brown, and my head of security, Master Gunny Pamela Porterfield. A word of warning, call her anything other than her rank or ‘Mel’ and you’ll get to see the paint blister off the walls.”
The Javan’s Captain chuckled softly. “Consider us duly warned.”
If she thought anything about the Master Gunny greeting her in state-of-the-art combat armor, she said nothing.
“There are a couple people waiting on the bridge that I expect you will want to meet. Shall we?” I said as I ushered her and her officers towards and then into the turbolift. The Master Gunny and her MES followed in the rear.
“What’s the crew compliment on a ship like this?” Captain Deborah asked.
“We’ve got four decks and I’m told that it often operates with a crew of twenty. We’re operating with seven at the moment, but one is in sickbay.”
“A warship this size with the power this ship commands can be run with seven people?”
“One is in sickbay so technically six,” I responded with a grin. “Truth be told, this ship can run fully automated except for the weapons systems.”
The door to the turbolift swished open and we stepped onto the Defiant’s bridge. As bridge’s went it was not big, but it had room to accommodate everyone if you didn’t mind there not being enough seats.
Doc Thompson and the Chief were at the helm and engineering stations. Tange had been sitting at the weapon’s console but stood as the others entered. When the Javan’s captain saw her, she and her officers immediately began to go to one knee. Tange immediately stepped forward to stop her.
“We’ll have none of that Captain,” she said firmly.
“But Your Highness…” Deborah began.
“And none of that either. For the duration, we are comrades in arms, and I insist we treat each other accordingly. I may be a princess but for the moment I take my orders from the Colonel.”
“Understood Your High…” she paused. “How should I address you?”
“You may call me Tange or Doctor or Doctor Mumba. Whichever you prefer.”
“Thank you… Doctor.” It was almost like she was trying the title out for size and wasn’t quite sure she like the fit.
The rest introduced themselves all around. The strangest moment occurred when Arquat shimmered into existence. Holograms were not that unusual but one that appeared alien in nature and was the avatar for a powerful AI was not something that you ran into every day.
“Captain,” I said, “are you ready?�
�
“I suppose so.”
She turned to face the officers she had brought with her. “Gentlemen take good care of the Javan. I expect her to be in as good or better shape when I return.”
It was amazing what a difference a few hours could make Colonel Clarkson mused. While it was true the captain of the Javan had mutinied, it appeared she did so to protect the larger mission. Admiral James had allowed the fleet to be trapped.
Captain Deborah had escaped the trap and taken control of the taskforce. She refused to relinquish command to a proven inapt commander. Nothing speaks louder than success or failure. Her actions had resulted in the capture of a piece of Founder technology that would permanently redefine the balance of power. The only question was: who would end up controlling that technology?
Chapter 20: From the North Bodes the Dragon
I stood next to Commander Martinescu. Horse stood next to Lieutenant Heidman. It was going to be interesting to see what happened.
“We’re as ready as we’re going to get,” I said.
Arquat nodded.
“Very good. Gentlemen please stand very still. Mapping external features now. Mapping complete. Applying target scaling. Target scaling complete. Generating dynamic cloak. Dynamic cloak complete.”
I heard a soft intake of breath from various people on the bridge.
“I take it...”
I paused mid-sentence. The voice I was hearing was not my own. It had the distinctive southern twang of the commander.
“I take it that not only do we look like your officers, but we sound like them as well. That’s a nice touch.”
Arquat bowed. “I’m glad you approve Colonel”
I turned to the Master Gunny who was still standing near the turbolift in her MES.
“Mel, would you be good enough to escort these two gentlemen back to their shuttle. We have a ruse to perpetrate and we wouldn’t want to keep our audience waiting.”
***
“Formation complete. Everybody is where they are supposed to be,” I reported to Captain Deborah. It was definitely odd to be sitting at the sensor station and not in the command chair.