A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  “Colonel Cromwell,” Lieutenant Commander Kowalczy answered.

  “Lieutenant Commander, why aren’t you in command of Nuckelavee?”

  “There were quite a few Zuul assigned to Nuckelavee,” he explained. “I talked it over with the command instructors, and we agreed that our first Zuul commander was warranted. The Zuul were impressed with Drizz’s accomplishments in escaping Earth, so I gave him the command.”

  “I’d rather you’d given him Alicorn,” Alexis said, “but I can see the logic. Is he doing well?”

  “Exceptionally,” Lech said. “The morale of all the Zuul throughout the Hussars is at an all-time high. I think it was a good move, but, of course, it’s up to you. We told him it was pending your review.”

  “Very well, I’ll approve the assignment. I still think you just wanted to keep Alicorn.” She signed off and began reviewing other communications.

  With several hours before they reached the huge multiple ring station of Prime Base, Alexis let her personal slate accept the thousands of files being sent to her. Everything from minor personnel movements, children born, some older members dying, a couple of training incidents, and progress on manufacturing war material.

  The training losses concerned her, even though they were often the cost of doing business. Learning to fight and fly in combat weren’t without risk, and you couldn’t do it all in a simulator. She was surprised the losses weren’t from the SalSha. They’d all been the result of a failed reentry to the planet Home, which Prime Base orbited above, from the sort of everyday event which sometimes proved fatal. Spaceflight wasn’t completely safe, either, and never would be.

  She looked up the information on the SalSha and was pleased to see the results. The little uplifted otter-like aliens were progressing well in their training. They were difficult to control; of that there was no doubt. The write-ups by Lieutenant Colonel Walker before he left were as detailed as they were frustrating. The SalSha showed serious potential to be the best star pilots in the galaxy, if they could learn to control their impulsiveness.

  Captain Teenge’s report upon returning the Arion spoke volumes on their bravery as well. That same report spoke of the loss of Colonel Frank Earl and his company, Burt’s Bees, while stopping the Keesius doomsday ship. And the reason it was unleashed in the first place—Sato.

  Alexis accessed Taiki Sato’s Winged Hussars personnel file. It was extensive. Extensive in its list of accomplishments for the Hussars, in particular. Every new ship design they’d fielded in the last fifteen years had been one of his designs. He was the one responsible for all the major improvements in their drones, in developing designs for their pinplants, for improved utilization of Prime Base, and for integrating the Golden Horde’s defensive systems improvements with what New Warsaw already had in place. And, to tell the truth, that wasn’t 10% of what he’d accomplished.

  However, the number of entries for things he’d fucked up were nearly as impressive. He was responsible for the single biggest explosive decompression on Prime Base, exposing almost a quarter of the low gravity wing to vacuum. He’d decided a live test of a rocket motor in his lab was necessary. Sato had unwittingly released a virus into New Warsaw’s local version of the GalNet which wiped out all their financial records, which had to be reconstructed from backups on ships. That one had been a side project to develop a replacement for the Union’s Universal Account Access Card, the ubiquitous yack. And there were forty-two times he’d cost the Hussars at least one million credits due to research which had ended up without a real-world use.

  “What a mess,” she thought. Over his career, he’d done much more for the Hussars than the net loss he’d generated. At least, until now. Up until now, nobody had died…until he’d activated the Keesius doomsday ship. It had taken weeks of pursuit to catch the ship and stop it, which they had managed to do just before it would have destroyed Capital Planet with a massive antimatter bomb. At least the rule against antimatter now had some context, she thought. The two sides in the war 20,000 years ago had been throwing around planet-killing doomsday ships. Preventing that seemed like a good reason to outlaw antimatter.

  But many of the Burt’s Bees marines and some of the Golden Horde members had died stopping the Keesius—both in trying to rescue Sato from the trap of his own making and in actually stopping the ship. Sato had done his part to try and unscrew the situation. He’d filed extensive reports on what he’d learned from the Keesius, as well as a new request to look at the other Keesius they had. Entropy, no, she thought. Uuth, her security officer, had wisely restricted him to his quarters upon his return, and he’d remained locked down ever since.

  If he were anyone but Taiki Sato, she’d have fired him and had him transported out of the system on the next available ship. In fact, if he’d been an officer in the Hussars, he might well have found himself sucking vacuum. His actions were nothing short of willful negligence, resulting in the loss of life for numerous Hussars personnel—one of their few capital crimes, right up there with treason. But it was Taiki Sato.

  She scanned down to the end of his file and stopped. He’d been back over two weeks. Normally he’d already have found a way to cause some sort of trouble. However, except for a trip to medical to fix his damaged pinplants, which occurred during his rescue, he had not gotten himself into any mischief. In fact, he’d worked his ass off.

  Alexis read his report on the Mk 9 CASPer project, including how the data had been sabotaged. Which explained why New Persia hadn’t been turning out finished suits. The load Nigel had brought back had turned out to be unassembled suits. When Sato tried to have them assembled, he discovered they were non-working models. The manufactory on New Persia had been building junk…before it was destroyed, anyway. In his time back, Sato had managed to salvage the designs and put a greatly improved Mk 8 into production. It was still labeled a Mk 9, though it wasn’t going to be nearly as ground-breaking as Binnig had promised. It also now made sense why the Mk 9 was years behind schedule.

  Sato also had the six manufactories running at a hitherto unknown level of efficiency. He’d made several improvements on the SalSha’s bombers, the Avenger-class, which he’d designed years ago but never built because nobody could fly them. The rebuild of Dragon from a Fiend-class carrier into the first Intruder-class to carry both drones and Avengers was finished, as well as nearly a full complement of bombers.

  Lastly, he’d said that research on the shuttle they’d brought back from 2nd level hyperspace was progressing well, and some new technology would be available shortly. In short, it looked like Sato was a born-again team player. Frankly, it was an amazing development.

  “In order to implement some of the new technologies, I’ll need limited access to the shipyards. It can, of course, be under supervision.” That line of his report was nearly as surprising as his lack of mischief. No complaint on being watched, locked down, or under close scrutiny. Simply a matter of fact statement of his needs, with no weasel words.

  “Grant him limited access to shipyard facilities,” she ordered. “Under no circumstances is he to be out of view of at least two marine guards. Furthermore, inform Kleena that a member of the Geek Squad needs to be with him at all times. This isn’t in lieu of a marine, but in addition to. Any sign of questionable actions, behaviors, or possible subterfuge is to be reported to myself or Commander Uuth immediately.”

  She fully expected him to balk under that degree of control, and that was fine. If he could continue to produce results and not cause more mayhem, then maybe, just maybe, those lives weren’t spent in vain. Ultimately, Sato was probably worth the lives lost. It was a shitty thing to think, but Alexis made decisions almost every day that cost lives. She hoped this wasn’t another of those decisions.

  “Captain?” Paka’s voice intruded on her introspection.

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  “Check your Tri-V feed; we have an escort.”

  “Escort? What do you mean?”

  “Best to just
look, ma’am.”

  With a shrug, Alexis activated her ready room’s Tri-V which was tuned to an outside camera. This one looked forward from one of the Pegasus’s currently retracted four gravity decks.

  It took a second for her to recognize what she was seeing. The ships were tiny compared to Pegasus. Each was under ten meters long, and half that wide. They had distinctive dual bubble cockpits, large engines, and extensive points on which to mount weapons. It was the final iteration of the Avenger-class bomber. Twenty or more of them were flying along with Pegasus, only they were flying a spiral pattern around the battlecruiser in an intricate reverse-helix pattern.

  “Entropy,” she said, shaking her head. Every couple of seconds a pair of Avengers would pass within meters of each other as they raced around in their pattern. “What the hell are they doing?”

  “They say this is similar to an underwater ballet they do called a Kloop. It is to welcome an honored warrior home after a successful battle,” Paka explained.

  She started to wonder why Walker had thought this maneuver was a good idea, but then she remembered he was still on Paradise. He’d elected to stay and take command of their defenses. Which meant…

  “Paka, who’s been in charge of the SalSha training since Walker left?”

  Paka pulled up the manning documents and shrugged. “According to this, I don’t see anyone assigned. It looks like they’ve been training themselves.”

  Alexis sighed. That could not be good. Outside Pegasus, the Avenger bombers continued their Kloop.

  * * *

  EMS Bucephalus, Emergence Point, New Warsaw System

  “We have arrived in the New Warsaw system,” the Bucephalus’ navigation officer announced.

  “Orders, Colonel?” Captain Su asked.

  “Intercept with Upsilon 4, if you will,” Jim asked.

  “You need to see the Hussars surgical team,” Hargrave reminded him. The two were in the CIC for their arrival at New Warsaw. Captain Su looked between the two men.

  “Soon enough,” Jim said, “I just need to see to a couple things.” Hargrave gave him a surly look. “Captain, Upsilon 4, if you will, please.” Splunk chirped and jumped away, heading back into the ship. She was probably heading for the Raknar.

  “As you wish,” she said, and Bucephalus broke off from the rest of the fleet, which navigated toward the huge rotating rings of Prime Base, and maneuvered outward, away from the hustle and bustle around the Hussar’s main structure. The CIC Tri-V showed that quite a few ships were already there, many more than when they’d left. At least one of the task forces had beaten him back. He wanted to know which, but he wanted to get to Upsilon 4 more.

  The asteroid base was in a geostationary orbit some 200,000 kilometers further out from Home than Prime Base. It needed to be located there to avoid coming into conflict with the various orbiting shipyards, manufactories, and numerous fleet rally points the Hussars used. Any further out and it would come into conflict with the system’s enormous debris field—a million orbiting fragments of ships which put him in mind of Capital, only there it was more like a million wrecked ships, not a million pieces.

  Bucephalus pushed away from the fleet with her fusion torch then coasted for an hour, flipping over to use her ion drive to brake as they closed on the asteroid. As the ion drive provided a bare fraction of the fusion torch’s power, she burned those much longer in order to come alongside.

  As Bucephalus came to a stop relative to the asteroid base, Jim was about to call down to his three Raknar techs to prepare and move the mecha when he saw movement from the asteroid. He touched the controls on his chair in the CIC to focus on the movement. A pair of vehicles were moving toward his ship. As they got closer, he could only see that they resembled tugs.

  There was a central module which probably contained motive power and a crew section, however, the rest of the vehicles were an oddball collection of cranes, robotic arms, and booms. What in entropy have the Fae been up to now? Jim wondered as the two “tugs” floated toward Bucephalus.

  “Should I be concerned?” Captain Su asked as she examined the approaching machines.

  “Not at all,” Jim said, trying to speak with more conviction than he felt. “It’s just some handling equipment.” A minute later they used maneuvering jets to reposition themselves near the Raknar mounted on Bucephalus side. As they approached, both began to open their various arms and booms, positioning over the Raknar.

  Jim used his pinplants to inform his Raknar team to release the mecha’s magnetic locks holding it to the hull. The sound of the mecha being released reverberated through the ship. In seconds, the two tugs had secured it with a variety of grapples and arms and were moving it toward the base. Jim was impressed, yet somehow not surprised.

  “Shuttle inbound,” the sensor tech announced. Sure enough, a small shuttle was exiting the asteroid base’s main bay. Months ago, he’d had Bucephalus shoot the bay door out because a rampaging robot was trying to kill him. He didn’t know if the robot had survived that encounter, only that it had been blown into space and left behind at Karma.

  “I guess that’s my ride,” Jim said. He caught a sharp look from Hargrave and added, “I’ll head over to Prime Base in a few hours. Please join the fleet assignment area, Captain.”

  “As you will,” Captain Su said, and Hargrave nodded.

  Jim floated free of his chair and headed to the personnel lock. By the time he was there, the shuttle had already docked and the automated airlock system was balancing atmospheric pressure with the shuttle. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw a brown shape flying toward him. He turned to greet Splunk, only to see another Fae. Well, he thought, that confirms my suspicions.

  While they were at Talus, Jim had gotten various reports of Fae sightings on Bucephalus, often simultaneous ones—too many to just be one. He’d asked Splunk if more Fae were along, and she’d just grinned. Since it hadn’t made any difference really if there were, he’d let it go.

  This Fae was brown also, but considerably darker than Splunk, bordering on black. It also had a white tuft of fur on the end of its tail, a sign he now knew meant that this one was male. “Hello,” he said, and the Fae nodded in a most Human manner. “What’s your name?”

  “My name Peskall,” he said.

  There was a sound behind him, and Jim turned and saw two more Fae. One was female with the same shade of dark brown fur as Peskall, but with black ear tufts and half her tail was black, as well. The other was an even darker brown female, with gray hands, feet, tail, and ears.

  “I Ryft,” the female with black highlights said.

  “I Jocko,” the other replied.

  “Are there any more of you aboard?” Jim asked.

  “Not this ship,” Peskall said.

  “If Alexis Cromwell finds out, she’ll be pissed,” he warned them.

  “She not find out,” Peskall said and winked. They all had the same blue-on-blue eyes as Splunk. The only Fae he’d seen without those same eyes was Sly, their leader.

  “Where’s Splunk?”

  “She rode on Raknar,” Peskall said, again speaking for them all. “Sly wanted to see her when you come.”

  “I see,” he said. The airlock finished cycling and opened. Inside was still another Fae, a male. Jim wasn’t surprised by that. What he was surprised by was the way the Fae looked. The others all appeared young, at least to his uneducated eye. Their fur was smooth and glossy, their eyes bright, and their mannerism quick and agile. This Fae’s fur was more of a matte color, his movements slower and more deliberate. He also had an unmistakable cybernetic arm. As if that wasn’t enough, the obviously battle-worn Fae sported a patch over his left eye, and his tail looked like it had been partly amputated at some point, though it still sported a tuft.

  “And who are you?” Jim asked.

  The Fae gave him a long look with his only bright blue eye, then issued a grunting sound before turning and floating back into the shuttle. Jim shook his head in bemusement. I’v
e just met my first surly Fae, he decided and followed him in. Peskall, Ryft, and Jocko floated right behind him, and the door closed immediately.

  “Prepare to maneuver,” the older Fae snapped. Jim grabbed the nearest handhold and the shuttle jerked almost before he could get a good grip.

  This Fae has been through hell, Jim thought, then chuckled. The old Fae was in the pilot’s section. It was clearly designed for a larger race and had been adapted for their use. He appeared quite comfortable at the controls. “What do you want me to call you?” he asked the male.

  “Whatever,” the replied.

  “Okay,” Jim said, a small grin on his face. “I’ll call you Dante.” Dante grunted and glanced back at him. If Jim hadn’t known better, he would have said the old guy was smiling. Did he understand the reference? “Dante it is, then.” The other three Fae didn’t pay attention to the exchange. He desperately wanted to ask Dante a hundred questions, maybe a thousand, but it just wasn’t the time.

  The shuttle flight over to Upsilon 4 only took a minute. Dante’s piloting skills were impressive. Jim’s mind filled with the thought that there could well be Fae colonies out in the galaxy that nobody knew of. Was it really all that difficult to imagine? There were tens of thousands of races in the galaxy. Maybe hundreds of thousands. More races went unnoticed than noticed. How many of them were familiar with starship operations? Or for that matter, how many could take a 20,000-year-old asteroid base and turn it into a hyperspace-capable ship?

  Jim watched their arrival through a port. The bay where he’d fought the alien robot looked like new and the landing platforms were now aligned properly, with various fuel transfer cables and power couplings all racked and ready. Dante brought them down onto one of the landing platforms. The shuttle touched with a tiny bump, then was pulled downward by magnetic couplers. The big bay doors closed, and atmosphere flowed into the bay. A completely professional operation.