by Rob Howell
“It’s all but confirmed they were dropped by a number of Zuparti ships.”
“Zuparti?”
“Yes, sir.” Wainwright tapped his pad and activated the Tri-V. “These ships were over these points on certain days. We don’t have any air traffic data, so we can’t be positive, but look …” He hit a key. “They flew directly over Jeriasker and the valley around the Maquon base, a spot any shuttle heading to the major regional space ports would pass over.”
“Our air traffic guys at the base should’ve seen this.”
“Perhaps, but you’re seeing a large amount of data. This happened over a period of weeks. One here, one there…”
“So, it wouldn’t be all that noticeable.”
“Exactly, sir.” He sighed. “It’s obvious, in retrospect, but Zuparti ships come to Maquon fairly often, and we didn’t have any hint of something like this happening.”
“Easy to get complacent.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right. We know they took the base and how they did it. What else do we know?”
“We’ve positively identified seven of the ships they used, and we think there’s an eighth one out there.” Wainwright changed the display to a plot of ships orbiting Maquon.
“And all seven or eight stay in orbit?”
“Seven do. The eighth comes and goes.”
“They’re merchies, but they’re undoubtedly armed,” said Gonzalez.
“With their greater mass, I’d be shocked if they aren’t significantly better armed than we are.”
“Let me guess, they’re always covering Jeriasker’s hemisphere, right? Rarely going to the far side?”
“Yes, sir. If we go directly to our usual shuttle launch spots, they can bracket us and that’s without taking the Type Two into account.” He grimaced. “I still don’t understand that.”
“So, you’ve said.” Gonzalez smiled. “However, whoever did it had a reason. What are the chances their reasons are beneficial to us?”
Pedersen laughed harshly. “None, sir.”
“Agreed.” Wainwright highlighted the Zuparti ship positions in sequence. “However, sir, whatever the reason, we’re here. I want to point out something.” He ran a sequence showing the Zuparti ships moving around the system.
“Huh. That’s interesting,” mused Gonzalez. “Their ships are flying in fixed, repeating patterns.”
“The seven we’ve confirmed are. However, the eighth hasn’t been in-system as consistently, so we don’t have a good feel for her vectors. I bet they computed the angles that would give them the best firing solutions for when we finally arrive over Jeriasker.”
“Those points also indicate the planet won’t be downrange from them if we come directly from the arrival point to the planet.”
Wainwright nodded. “No one wants to toss missiles into a gravity well, especially by accident.”
“Can’t have the Peacemakers poking their noses into things.”
The XO snorted. “Agreed.”
“I want you to crunch some other numbers for me.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need to know the earliest Edmonds can get here to shove their fuzzy tails up their asses. How quickly can word get back to Edmonds? How long will it take him to gather the regiment from Earth and Peninnah, load everything he can into some ships, and then get back to Maquon?”
“Can’t have happened yet, sir.”
“No, it can’t, which is why we’ve stayed here. But I want to know.”
“Will do, sir. Give me a few minutes to run the numbers on my console. With your permission?”
“Granted. I’ll go over our options with Pedersen while you’re doing that.”
“Yes, sir.” Wainwright rose, saluted, and left.
“What do you think, Captain Pedersen?”
“I think this is going to suck, sir.”
“I think it already does. Give me a readiness report on Delta Company.”
“Yes, sir.” Pedersen’s face turned grim. “Delta’s a piece of crap compared to the rest of the regiment, sir. We’re getting better, but we don’t have enough NCOs, and those we have are mostly light on experience. To be fair, we’re almost up to what I’d consider minimum scores in the simulators. We’re not going to be great until we can get on the ground and do actual maneuvers. However, we can all move in the same general direction.”
“How do you think we’ll do if we stick their heads into this trap?”
“My guess is they’d kick the shit out of us.”
“How is drop training going?”
“Slowly. We don’t have much in the way of equipment to push them through.”
“Nice of you not to point out that I’ve canceled all EVA work since we approached Maquon, so I can see what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir. EVA training in drop capsules would definitely help, though I understand and agree with your decision.” Pedersen shrugged. “We’re using simulators more than we should. It’s better than nothing, but…”
“But you still have a long way to go.”
“Yes, sir. We’ve got sections running through the training bottlenecks 24/7, but it’s going to take some time.” He smiled grimly. “As I said, though, we are improving. Even though Delta Company will never be the Cavaliers when it comes to drop skills, they’ll be reasonably ready in another month.”
“Another month, eh?”
“We can send them now, sir. But, unless we’re being forced to rush into this, I’d rather wait. Each day we sweat results in that many more troopers alive at the end of the assault.”
“Agreed.” His comm buzzed. “Gonzalez here.”
“Captain, I’ve run the numbers on the minimum response time for Edmonds.”
“Yes?”
“If everything went smoothly and all the ducks fell into place, he couldn’t be here until the second. By everything, I mean everything, and that’s not reasonable.”
“No, but it gives me an idea of how much time we’ve got. How long until we’re a full light minute away from Maquon?”
There was a pause. “At our current velocity, we’ll reach that point tomorrow at 1744.”
“Very good.” Gonzalez tapped a coordinate into his pad. “Have the helm plot a zero-zero course to this location.”
“Aye, aye sir. May I ask what we’ll do there?”
“You can certainly ask, XO.”
“What’ll we do there?”
“Glad you asked.” Gonzalez chuckled. “I want you to generate a number of possible vectors that will allow us to get within a light second of Maquon on a ballistic course with a minimum chance of anyone noticing us.”
“That’s not going to be easy, sir.”
“No, it’s not. However, I want to make sure we’re not missing something hidden in Maquon’s orbitals. Like, maybe, a Type Two.”
“Can do, sir.”
* * * * *
Chapter 31 – Rick Blaine
ECS Cabot
Earth
Bullitt got over whatever was bothering him. I got the unredacted file on Garrison before I took the shuttle up to the Cabot. After I read it, I decided to be very polite to her.
“Permission to come aboard?” I asked as I floated in the shuttle hatch.
The stocky woman rubbed her butch-cut hair idly. “I suppose. Dependin’, a’ course, if yer the chap Edmonds foisted on me.”
Tattoos covered her arms. Most were merc tattoos, the kind other mercs only let you get after you had seen bullets fly.
“I’m Rick Blaine. You Captain Garrison?”
“Yeah.”
“Can we speak somewhere private?”
“Lads, I think he wants to seduce me.” The spacers in hearing range laughed.
I grinned. “I suppose I do. Let’s just say I want you to get into my metaphorical bed, not my real one. At least this time.”
More laughter.
“All right, then. Unless you’ve got tits under that business casual, you’ve got no cha
nce at the second, but if you can make it worth my while, I’ll hear you out.”
“No tits, but I can be very persuasive.”
“We’ll see, pretty boy.” She motioned with her head, and I followed her. The spacers continued their hooting as we left the shuttle bay.
She took me to her office, strapped into a chair behind an ancient, scarred, wooden desk, and gestured toward another. “Now, pretty boy, whatchu got?”
“I’m here to help you with your contract with Colonel Edmonds.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said.” She leaned back and put her feet up on the desk. “Y’all might not realize this, but we been doin’ pretty good without you bein’ around and all. My lads and lasses ain’t the dumbest tools in the box.”
“I believe that, but I bring some pretty useful tools and training to the table.”
“He said somethin’ about you bein’ a spook.”
“Yes. But to make full use of my skills, you have to trust me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And why might that be?”
“You need to let me use your EW suite, so I can make use of all that wonderful energy your fusion plants are generating.”
“That’s all? Why I thought you just wanted to fuck me.” She snorted.
“Yeah, I know. It’s a big request.”
She stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. “I checked you out when Edmonds told me you were comin’. He and the Lyon said you were this fucking hot-shot hacker. Whyn’t you just cut right on in? We ain’t got security to deal with the likes of you. Or what yer supposed to be.”
“That’s easy.” I smiled. “What are the chances I’d survive if you told your crew to ‘accidentally’ space me?”
“Iffin’ the Lyon is to be believed, better than most. Y’all oughtn’t to be takin’ them odds, even so.”
“I’m not taking those odds, not when I think you’ll be reasonable. I checked you out too.”
“And what were you findin’?”
“You’ve had quite the…interesting career. The kind that left a bunch of redactions in your files. The unredacted version made interesting reading. ”
“Did it now? I’ve heard some boastin’ before, so I hope you’ll not take it amiss that I’m not believin’ you.”
I smiled. Then I pulled up her unredacted file on the Tri-V.
She blinked at it and took her feet off the desk. Then she peered at me. “Well, me boy, your rep ain’t complete bullshit.”
“Nor is yours.”
“I’m supposin’ yer not wrong.”
“It’s clear you know what you’re doing in a battle. I’m sure you can understand that I want the Cabot to come out of any unpleasantness unscathed, since I’ll be on her. If you let me piggyback off your equipment, I can do my job far better. Especially with the added power of a full fusion plant.”
“And all I have to do is allow you to take every bit of data out of my systems to help us survive a thing we’ll probably survive anyway.”
“Yeah, I sort of do that out of habit.” I chuckled. “So, let me sweeten the pot. I don’t know how much Edmonds told you, but a Zuul merc unit took their base a month or so ago. The Zuul unit is the Stalkers in the Stars. What you might not know is that this will be the fourth time the Stalkers and Foresters have fought each other in the last year or so. This is shaping up to be a bit of a grudge match.”
“That’s an interestin’ data point, I’ll be grantin’.”
“What do you think the odds are that the smoother this op goes, the more likely it is Edmonds will grant you a bonus?”
“You did check me out, didncha?”
“I did.”
“It’s little secret I likes me pretties.”
I shrugged modestly.
“But I’ll be admittin’, you’ve given me something to be thinkin’ about.” She tapped her chin and stared at me for a while. “And, since I’m thinkin’ and all, I might as well tinkle.”
“Tinkle?” I barely contained the burst of laughter.
“As you can see, I’m all dainty and lady-like.” She grinned and ran her hands through her short hair. “You’ll be pardonin’ me, a’course.”
“Of course.”
She left the room, and I resisted pulling out my sweeper. Barely.
After about ten minutes, she returned.
“How was your tinkle?”
“My panties ain’t so bunched, I’ll tell you that.”
“What did the Lyon say?”
She smiled. “He vouched for you.”
“I thought he might,” I murmured.
“I’ll be givin’ you the access yer askin’ for.”
I wondered how much she had deleted from her system while she was ‘tinkling.’ Asking her would’ve been foolish, though. “Excellent.”
The next day was chaotic since the Foresters started shuttling up in earnest. Most of their supplies were already on board, but two reinforced companies with CASPers, support personnel, and a bunch of weapons took quite a bit of time to load properly.
I stayed out of the way and monitored everything from the EW section. I noticed early on that the vast majority of the shuttles came up and stayed. By the end of the day, far more shuttles than the Foresters would need for a full drop sat in various holds on the Cabot. Not all of them had Forester markings, suggesting that Edmonds might have purchased several for this mission. I hoped Bullitt had been successful with his investments.
Late in the day, there was a rap at the hatch. I turned and saw a man with receding brown hair with touches of gray in a Foresters’ uniform.
“Mr. Blaine?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Captain Helman, Commander of the Queen Elizabeth’s Own Foresters, Bravo Company.”
“A pleasure to meet you.”
“And you, sir. Colonel Edmonds informed me you’ve been very helpful lately.”
“I’ve certainly tried to be.”
“I’m going to be pretty busy until we jump, but I think it would be a good idea if we went over some of what you think you can do to help us in Maquon once we’re in hyperspace.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
“I’ll be at your service.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
The day after that, Garrison pronounced herself satisfied with the load balance and boosted us toward the stargate. A couple of hours later, the much faster Huron followed.
It had been a long time since I had taken a transport toward a hot drop. I hadn’t missed the feeling.
* * * * *
Chapter 32 – Capt. Eric Gonzalez
EMS Algonquin
Maquon System Stargate
Captain Gonzalez sat at his console in his ready room, watching a program cycle through a series of vectors. Every once in a while, a specific vector would turn red and get recorded in a file, then the program would continue. He had no need to sit there and watch. He had set up the program a week earlier, so there was little suspense. His mind was turning over the highlighted vectors and risk probabilities.
Wainwright’s voice sounded in his ear. “Captain to the bridge. Captain to the bridge.”
He entered the bridge swiftly, but without apparent haste. Wainwright stood, and Gonzalez slid into the command chair.
“What have you got, XO?”
“Mr. Williams thinks the Huron exited on the last transit!”
Wainwright pointed at the command chair’s screen. Four ships had appeared at the transit point within the last few hours. Three were obvious merchies. One was a Comal-class. Williams was right, the fourth certainly looked like a Fletcher-class destroyer. As far as Gonzalez knew, only two of them remained in commission in the entire galaxy, the Huron and the Algonquin. For that matter, the only other one he knew of was the Nunavut, which the Foresters cannibalized to supply parts for their two active Fletchers.
“ID that Comal for me if you can.”
“Aye, sir.” Williams turned back to his screen.
“S
parks, get me a comm laser on that Fletcher-class. Go straight to the Zed-Prime security protocols.”
Morley turned to his console.
Williams spoke up. “Sir, I believe the Comal to be the Cabot.”
“Who owns her?”
“She’s family-owned, sir. A Captain Garrison commanding.”
“Do we have any info on him?”
“It’s a her, sir. Other than that, I can’t tell you much more.”
Gonzalez nodded.
“The warship’s the Huron, sir. We have a positive connection.” Morley’s face held a huge smile.
The captain released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Algonquin Actual to the Huron Actual. Captain Christopher, Zuul troopers have taken the Maquon base, and the Zuparti have set a trap for you in Maquon orbit. Repeat, Maquon isn’t safe.”
It took two minutes for the signal to cross the void and reach the other ship. Gonzalez pretended to relax. The rest of the bridge crew stared at their chronometers.
Four minutes and sixteen seconds later, a voice crashed into their ears.
“Sunray Actual to Algonquin Actual. Eric, it’s great to hear your voice.”
“And yours, Colonel Edmonds. I take it you know the Zuul have taken the Maquon base?”
Gonzalez turned to the helmsman as he waited for the reply. “Helm, set a course. Make our heading 345 by 120, one tenth of a G accel.”
“345 by 120, one tenth of a G aye, sir.”
Edmonds’ reply arrived. “Yes. I decided I didn’t approve of the Zuul sleeping in our barracks. I brought along the Huron and a few friends to reason with them. I’ve got all of Alfa, all but a platoon of Bravo, and all of our sappers and heavy weapons.”
“You stripped Peninnah, sir?”
“Almost. We’ll be giving the Hilden a large discount for their patience.”
“I’m downloading a status report of what we found in the past few months. We’ve been creeping about ever since we got here.”
“Well done. How did you avoid this trap?”
“We think a Zuul warned us.”
“A Zuul? Why would a Zuul help you avoid a Zuul trap?”