The Midnight Sun (The Omega War Book 2)

by Tim C. Taylor

  “Do you not understand?” Venix leaped out of his nook and dashed the Zuul’s drink out of his hand. It fell slowly in the low-gee. “I’ll pay your debts in return for your ship.”

  Krnn’Kch snatched his mug before it hit the deck. “A Zuparti with a sense of humor!” He looked critically at his drink. “What do they put in this stuff? I must be hallucinating.”

  “I repeat,” said Venix impatiently. There wasn’t much time. “I’m not here to collect your debt.”

  “Sure you’re not.”

  “But your creditors are, and when they find you soon, they’ll not be so generous.”

  “Just kill me and get it over with.”

  “First, check your Yack.”

  Krnn’Kch blinked in surprise and pulled out his universal account access card. “10,000 credits? What is this?”

  “That’s payment for the pleasure of your company.” Venix initiated another transfer with his pinplants.

  The free trader’s eyes widened. “Another 30,000?”

  “That’s for shutting your whining hole and listening. I’m good for enough money to pay off your debts. When I walk out of this bar, I want to own your ship.”

  “The Indomitable Streak,” he said, his voice suddenly glossy with pride. “It’s a fine ship, sir. Full of surprises. Three hidden pop-up turrets, for starters. Each with quad lasers rated 10 TW each. Yes, sir, you did hear that correctly. There’s a hidden second powerplant for some of the optional extras, and a whole array of maneuvering plasma torches. They won’t get you from A to B like the main torch, but nothing in the galaxy can dance the way the Streak does along the way. All in all, the Streak is the fastest ship this side of—”

  “I offer you six million credits.”

  The Zuul’s face crumpled as if he’d eaten vomit. “You have a gun to my head, sir. But even so, I couldn’t contemplate any less than fifteen million.”

  Venix gave a warning snarl. “Five million.”

  Krnn’Kch looked away and howled.

  “Final offer.”

  The howls ceased.

  “Done.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 41

  “Exuberance confirms all fees paid,” said SigCom. “Clamp lock released.”

  “Take us out of here,” ordered Venix from his command chair on the bridge of the Indomitable Streak.

  “Initiating dock release,” acknowledged Helm.

  Venix squirmed in the uncomfortable chair that had housed Captain Krnn’Kch’s Zuul butt for the past decade. In the Midnight Sun’s CIC, Venix had a Zuparti-appropriate acceleration couch on which he could stretch out his long tubular body. He wasn’t designed to sit in a chair. To get a tighter fit in his harness, he’d grabbed sleeping pillows from the captain’s den just off the bridge, and placed them behind his back and in front of his stomach.

  Venix wrinkled his nose. The scents from many species lingered on those pillows.

  “Any reaction from our friends?” he asked as he watched the main bridge display, which showed the Indomitable Streak slowly parting from the Exuberance.

  The heavy hauler ship was so immense it appeared in the bridge display as if they were lifting off from a planetary surface. Craters of recessed airlocks and heat exchangers from the inner frames were shadowed by the mountainous protuberances of the hyperspace shunts and sensor blisters. But what caught his attention most was the spiraling pattern of the transit riders. The most important of those riders was the Veetanho battlecruiser Infinite Destruction. She was a short distance aft, clamped to the mothership by its fat belly.

  “Infinite Destruction is ignoring us,” said TacCom, “but one of the Veetanho escort frigates is running a deep scan.”

  “The scan is so powerful, it’s interfering with intra-ship comms, and making my guts want to heave,” said SigCom. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It’s a Veetanho escort frigate,” said Venix. “Part of its role is to detect threats, and it’s good at what it does. TacCom, ETA on Exuberance hitting the stargate?”

  “233 seconds.”

  “Perfect. Helm, steady as she goes. We’re Decoy One. If any of you want to live, we must pray they decide to chase Decoy Two, so don’t give them any reason to go off script. Any sign of the Condottieri?”

  “Negative,” replied TacCom. “With all the EM hash from that Veetanho scan, I can’t see around the Exuberance.”

  “I can reach Midnight Sun via the relays we planted,” SigCom pointed out.

  “Too risky,” said Venix.

  “Infinite Destruction is hailing us.”

  “Ignore them. Get me Exuberance Transit Services. Helm, take us back to our old docking bay.”

  A XenSha appeared in the main display wearing the uniform of the Red Star Shipping Company. Its tentacles were stiff with annoyance. “Indomitable Streak. We’re about to enter the stargate. Withdraw beyond our hyperspace safety perimeter immediately!”

  “Negative, Exuberance. We’ve changed our minds. We’re riding through the gate with you.”

  The XenSha’s tentacles stood out in alarm. “It’s too late. Clear the vicinity with all haste.”

  “Helm, continue docking maneuver.” To the representative of Exuberance Transit Services, Venix said, “I’m afraid this junk ship isn’t fit to do anything hastily. We’re coming back in, and we’re committed. Sorry, friend.”

  The alien blinked as if prey caught in a hunter’s searchlight. Then, with the pickup on their side muted, Venix could see them in rapid conversation with someone off screen.

  “Shot across our bows from the Infinite Destruction,” said TacCom. “Particle cannon, estimated 10 TW.”

  “Helm, get us to that docking bay now!”

  “Roger that,” the SleSha pilot said in glee. “Hold on tight.”

  Captain Krnn’Kch had been truthful about the Streak’s optional extras. Secondary plasma torches primed, and exhaust nozzles extruded from her hull.

  Venix was grateful for the captain’s stinky pillows as he was thrown forward against his harness straps, then hurled back against the seat. The ship spun through crazy angles that squeezed the Zuparti out of the harness where the Zuul captain’s broader shoulders would have secured him.

  With his feet wrapped desperately around the harness strap as Helm tried to slam him against the overhead, TacCom announced calmly. “I see two interdiction swarms returning to the Veetanho battle cruiser in readiness for hyperspace.”

  The thrust shut off abruptly and the Zuparti found himself back in the seat, minus his pillows, and gasping at the XenSha from Transit Services glowering across the bridge display.

  “You give us no choice, Indomitable. Your docking request is granted. Time to transition, 97 seconds.”

  “Clamping initiated,” reported Helm.

  The officer of the Exuberance hadn’t finished. “As per our Terms of Service, a late booking surcharge may be applied at the discretion of the company.”

  “Which you’re going to decide not to levy, I assume,” said Venix, bracing for financial impact.

  For the first time in the entire exchange, the alien looked happy. “On the contrary, I decided to charge the maximum amount. Your late docking surcharge is 1 million credits, payable immediately, or your ship, its cargo and its crew will become the property of Red Star Shipping.” Venix flinched at the outrageous demand, then reminded himself they weren’t his credits. He authorized the payment through his pinplants. “A pleasure doing business.”

  The transit officer snapped its jaws and cut transmission.

  “Are those militaristic meddlers still wanting a chat?”

  “Yes, sir,” answered SigCom.

  Venix gestured to put them on screen, which flickered and showed the gloomy CIC of the battlecruiser Infinite Destruction. “Explain yourself,” demanded the Veetanho captain. “Why leave and then return?”

  “Because that’s what I was paid to do,” Venix answered.

  “Who paid you? Why?”
/>
  “A human. I don’t know which one. They all look the same. It paid me a big pile of credits to temporarily hop off ship and then back again just before the jump. A little too close to transition, if you ask me. I went sooner than they told me to. Idiot human paid me in advance. If I were an exalted military expert such as yourself, ma’am, I’d say someone used us as a distraction. But what would I know? We’re just a commercial freighter clamped to the UTS Exuberance and under the protection of Red Star Shipping Corporation.”

  The moment the Infinite Destruction’s CIC disappeared from screen TacCom reported, “Arashi Nova, redesignated Decoy Two, is away and running. Veetanho ships are leaving in pursuit. They’ve taken the bait.”

  “Un-designate her Decoy Two,” Venix ordered. “She’s about to give her life for ours. Let Arashi Nova go out in glory under her own name.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 42

  The bridge display of the Indomitable Streak showed the Veetanho warships cutting away from the super-freighter they’d ridden for weeks and burning hard in pursuit of the Scorpion ship – the freighter the enemy believed to be carrying three Raknar in its hold.

  Some of the enemy frigates left detachable ship segments still clamped to the Exuberance. Others cut themselves free with lasers and particle cannons, venting atmosphere out of the ship they’d ridden.

  “Red Star will be collecting big payouts in fines and fees today,” said Venix as he watched the ships light their plasma torches, heedless of the scorching damage done to the Exuberance’s hull.

  He switched the main display to a holographic representation of near space. The white smudge of Exuberance, with Midnight Sun and Indomitable Streak still attached, was closing on the green hoop that represented the stargate.

  A blue triangle representing Arashi Nova sped in the opposite direction, thrusting at 8g, far beyond her engine’s rated maximum. Such crushing forces were more than enough to incapacitate and kill its crew – if any had still been on board.

  New tracks erupted onto the display: amber dots showing a full spread of missiles chasing after the Nova. The Condottieri frigate was also lifting away from the Exuberance, making Venix huff in relief to see the final part of the plan come together.

  The Nova only had to distract the enemy for a few more seconds before the Exuberance, and the ships clamped to her hull, would be safely away through the stargate.

  The Nova tore away, faster than any other pursuing ships, but practically standing still in comparison with the missiles boosting at a thousand gees.

  The Veetanho tactics worried Venix to his core. There was an old Zuparti saying: “what you don’t understand will surely kill you.” If the Veetanho missiles carried high explosive warheads, nukes, or EMPs, surely that would risk damaging the Raknar they believed to be on board the Arashi Nova.

  Perhaps the enemy knew the Raknar were gone, evacuated by the Jeha engineering task force during the last period in hyperspace, along with Scorpion personnel. The Jeha had also found time to install remote telemetry so the Nova could be flown from Midnight Sun.

  The missile tracks converged with the Nova and seemed to fly right up its plasma torch, which…extinguished!

  “What just happened?” Venix demanded.

  “I don’t know, sir. No signs of explosion. No EMP. It’s as if…the warheads switched off the engines. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  Venix’s fur stood on end. He recalled the conversation with Captain Blue after Sergeant Albali revealed the presence on board of Gloriana’s people. The talk of war.

  They’d sneaked the Raknar out from under the enemy’s snouts, but this might be only a skirmish in a much bigger engagement. Perhaps a war. It wasn’t his place to reveal this to the skeleton crew aboard Indomitable Streak, but the humans within their number needed to hone their sense of paranoia if they were to survive.

  “Learn this lesson well,” he told the bridge crew. “In matters of war, never underestimate the Veetanho.”

  “Yes, sir,” said TacCom. “Let’s hope it’s a lesson we never have to use in anger.”

  Venix said nothing. “Paranoid” – that’s how the humans described Zuparti.

  He curled his snout. Humans suffered the irrepressible optimism of a youthful race. Zuparti had been the same, eons ago, but they’d lost their optimism long before proto-humans had ventured down from their trees.

  He contemplated his future.

  But he saw only darkness.

  * * * * *

  Part 3: THE MIDNIGHT SUN

  * * * * *

  Chapter 43

  “Are you ready to receive your toy robots?” asked Blue.

  The Tri-V image of Jamie Sinclair leaned forward into Midnight Sun’s CIC.

  “My command chair smells of a dog’s arse, and this jalopy ride you’ve given me has a plasma containment net made from chicken wire stuck together with chewing gum. Then there’s a hold that won’t pressurize, and my chief engineer is sobbing into his beard because he left his brewery behind on Arashi Nova.”

  “We saved your team and your Raknar. Beyond that, we could take essential items only.”

  “Hen, try explaining that to Lieutenant Rough and all the thirsty people on my new ship. The brewery was an essential item.”

  Blue laughed. Jamie couldn’t maintain his dour expression and joined in. “Seriously, Sinclair, are you ready to take the Raknar on board?”

  “Aye, send them across. And, Blue…thanks. I mean it. I thought we were goners there. Pay my compliments to your mystery onboard alien owner.”

  Her mood soured. In four hours they were due to jump out of this backwater system of Rakbutu. From here, the Scorpions were close to their Four Horsemen rendezvous, and the Midnight Sun just one transition from home. Hyperspace was said to house many horrors, and the Rietzken stowaways in her ship would soon learn that one of them was Captain Blue’s anger.

  They’d left Tau-Rietzke in pursuit of stolen Raknar, and when she’d won them back, Gloriana had changed her mind and given them away to the thieves. Blue couldn’t deny she’d had fun along the way, but three personnel were in the infirmary regrowing body parts, and Troopers Gzzk, Chan, and Keiko were in the morgue. Blue would have to explain to their next of kin why their loved ones had died. She needed answers first.

  She attempted to smile for Sinclair’s benefit. He was going off to war. He didn’t need her burden added to his. “Commander Venix, initiate transfer of the Raknar. Godspeed and good luck, Jamie. I hope we meet again.”

  The Scotsman winked at her. “I’ll keep some cheesy chips and gravy warm, just in case. Indomitable Streak, out.”

  Blue stared at the tactical grid with its two ships for a long while.

  Once the Exuberance had emerged back into normal space, after leaving the Condottieri and Veetanho behind chasing the abandoned Arashi Nova, the Midnight Sun and Indomitable Streak had unclamped as soon as possible and sprinted ahead of the heavy hauler to pass together through the next gate. They’d emerged in this uninhabited system of Rakbutu, almost directly on top of its only viable planet.

  She’d demanded answers then, but Gloriana had told her to wait while she arranged the unscheduled jump they’d need to get away safely and, it seemed, organized a flotilla of data packets that would transition with them, destinations unknown.

  That had been nearly an hour ago. Blue’s patience wouldn’t stretch any further.

  “You have the deck, Commander,” she said, unstrapping herself from her command station.

  “I have the deck, ma’am,” replied the Zuparti once the control privileges had shifted to his station.

  Blue pushed off and floated over to the main hatch.

  Gloriana, she growled through her pinplants, aiming her anger at restricted command channels.

  Later, insisted the alien.

  No. Now!

  Branco was Blue’s key. If Gloriana didn’t give her satisfaction, she’d use the object of her sister’s former infatuation to
break into the restricted areas and hold the Rietzkens at gunpoint if necessary.

  “Captain!” shouted the XO when she was at the hatch.

  TacCom spoke, “The sensor drones we left at the emergence point report multiple contacts dropping into normal space. Reading four frigate-sized ships, one battlecruiser, and one larger ship of unknown configuration. Standby. It’s a mini-carrier…the big ship, it’s launching smaller craft…dozens! Entropy! How did they follow us?”

  “Steady, Lieutenant Flkk’Sss.” cautioned the XO.

  “Sorry, Commander. They’ve destroyed our drones. But I’ve ID’d the battlecruiser. It’s Regina Margherita, the Condottieri ship from the Exuberance.”

  “ETA on entering our threat bubble?” requested Venix.

  “Plotting now,” replied TacCom. The MinSha officer displayed her workings on the main screen. The ships were coming in on intercept, hot and fast. “Preliminary estimate is that we will be inside their effective weapons range in sixteen minutes.”

  “They’re hailing,” said SigCom.

  Venix accepted the incoming signal and a grizzled man appeared with a fat cigar in his mouth. The full white beard ending in two plaits matched Blue’s description of Colonel Niccolo SantoPietro, the Condottieri owner-operator who styled himself as Il Colombo, the Dove. Behind his shoulder, peering out of goggles, were a pair of Veetanho.

  “You can’t hide under the Exuberance’s skirts this time,” said the Dove, blowing a smoke ring at the camera. “My advisers tell me to give you a chance to surrender. Personally, I wouldn’t bother. You’re more useful as an example to all Earth mercenaries of what happens if you fail to heed legitimate authority. In the long run, your deaths today will save the lives of many back on Earth.”

  Venix cut the transmission. “TacCom…analysis?”