Captive Embers (The Wardens' Game Book 1)

by Brian Mansur

  Sean slid into a pair of sports boxers. “That was before the economy took a nose-dive. Now the news spoils the meal either way."

  “Aye, sir,” Claire replied. "First, Fleet Intelligence is stepping up its counter-weapons trafficking operations.”

  Sean pursed his lips. “Yeah, after busting that weapons cache on Sundar Colony, it makes sense there is more somewhere.”

  “Naval Intelligence agrees with you.”

  Sean grunted.

  Claire said, “The Admiralty is launching ships to screen haulers coming out of Lakshmi.”

  “Hmm,” Sean mused. “Hope the boarding parties bring their sterile gloves.”

  “Is that an off-color insinuation that the Lakshmians are a dirty body part? I thought you aspired to be nicer than that, sir.”

  “I’m in a bad mood, Claire.”

  The A.I. leveled a disapproving glare. “Your point being?”

  Sean sighed. “Fine. That wasn’t nice of me to say, but it doesn’t help that most Belians need a bribe to get anything done.”

  He ignored Claire’s reaction to that. While he busied with getting dressed, she added, “By the way, sir, Command is sending the Tsunami.”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “The Admiralty must be seriously frustrated with this year’s catch to task a battleship to do a frigate’s job.”

  "We’ll be taking on a marine unit and their jump ships. Interdictions begin within three days."

  That caught Sean’s attention. He summoned a map of the Belian system on the wall panel. He noted Lakshmi colony in a Lagrange 5 point behind one of the large, outer moons of the gas giant. The Mykonian base, Zeus station, rode in a higher orbit around Belia, traveling substantially slower and ahead of Lakshmi.

  "I don’t suppose," Sean said, "that anyone considered how much propellant we’ll blow to get into position? Or that this might anger any number of Belian governments?”

  “Even if they did,” Claire said, “we both know that wouldn’t matter.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “There’d better be a remass tanker in fleet’s op order. Anything else?"

  “Yes. Ship’s nurse, Lieutenant Ryan, took ill. Doctor Apple and I will requisition his replacement after first formation.”

  Sean couldn’t say he was sorry to see the nurse leave. The man came across as too elitist for Sean’s tastes.

  Sean said, “Okay, let me know when you pick one.”

  He finished wiggling into his uniform: a body-fitting white jumpsuit with a teal band rising over the right shoulder. He straightened the polished silver senior grade lieutenant’s insignia affixed to his right upper chest. Lastly, he donned his augmented reality goggles: a halo-like band with clear lenses hanging from the front.

  Claire said, “Everything looks good, sir.”

  Sean grunted in acknowledgment then said, “It is going to be a busy day, and I’d like some time off from you until I get to the CIC.” He shouldered his duffle. “I swear, the next time we’re in port, I’m having the station’s A.I. do my wake-up calls. Alastair doesn’t give me half the grief you do.”

  3

  Location: Zeus Station in orbit of the gas giant planet Belia_

  Sarah Riley—Lieutenant junior grade—paced around a windowless lift to the station’s central docking hub. Every meter up lessened the spinning colony’s centrifugal pull. At the same time, she felt a knot of anticipation tightening in her stomach. She’d scored a billet aboard the coveted Tsunami after having been at Zeus for only a few months.

  Intent on making a good first impression, she made some last-minute alterations to her appearance in the mirrored elevator door. People still sometimes mistook the petite, young woman for a teenager. Playful wisps of fine, rose-blonde hair had worked loose from their clips to dance along her heart-shaped face. Her cerise lips curved upward as she pinned them back.

  The twinkle in her blue irises brightened. Arching almond eyes lent the girl an approachable, caring demeanor: perfect for a nurse. They also left the impression that she constantly teetered on the verge of either crying or laughing. A hint of epicanthic folds above a button nose complemented her slightly flattened features.

  Satisfied that everything was in place, she adjusted her holo-crown and smoothed down a body-hugging jumpsuit.

  Time for adventure, she thought, reveling in the ecstatic fluttering in her chest.

  When the lift’s doors opened, she felt good enough to fly. At a quarter g, she bounded along the gangway to the Tsunami’s hangar gate. Once or twice, she stumbled in the reduced gravity before learning how to walk again. A female marine, Corporal Horvath, greeted her at the entrance.

  The lieutenant submitted to a scan of her wrist implant, retina, and fingerprints. When told to open her mouth for a DNA swab, however, she suppressed a pout. The ship couldn’t be more than a handful of meters past the gate, and she was itching to see it.

  It took a few seconds to sweep up some loose epithelial cells with a wooden stick. Smacking at the dry taste of birch, she forced a grin for the marine decked out in lightweight, full-body armor.

  “This will only take a minute,” the corporal said while depositing the sample into a device. The lieutenant spent the time bouncing from one foot to the next.

  Before long, Sarah said, “Gotta wonder why we need this extra security.”

  “Echelons above my pay grade, ma’am,” the corporal replied.

  Sarah twisted her mouth over Horvath’s non-answer. “I don’t suppose Alastair would know the reason? Or the Tsu’s A.I. maybe?”

  A female contralto burst from an overhead speaker. “Of course, I know the reasons for the procedures.”

  Sarah’s head jerked toward the voice. Horvath chuckled and told her, “That’s Claire.”

  Eyebrows raised, Sarah said, “I take it she’s the Tsunami’s A.I.?”

  “Yup, yup,” Horvath replied, a bit more casual than Sarah had expected.

  “What’s she like?” Sarah asked with uncertainty. The Wardens controlled the resources and technologies each colony received including all the A.I.’s, and they insisted on programming them with distinctive personalities. But this was the first time Sarah had met one who intruded on human conversations.

  Claire’s hologram popped onto the lieutenant’s augmented reality lenses. The haughty avatar wore a curve-clinging white flight-suit just like Sarah’s.

  Claire said, “I’m a pushy, insufferable, know-it-all, priss, and you’ll love every second you’re with me or else.”

  Horvath laughed. “That’s what Lieutenant Merrick called her on the way in today. She’s really not as bad as all that.”

  “No, I’m not,” Claire agreed, sounding congenial.

  Sarah put on a nervous smile. "So, can you tell me why we have to go through all these security checks?"

  "Of course,” Claire replied. “I’ll be happy to cover the pertinent references for you.” A string of regulations and manuals flashed across the nurse’s field of view.

  Sarah decided the aforementioned Lieutenant Merrick might have been on to something about the A.I.’s behavior.

  “Never mind,” Sarah replied. Someone had taken those holo-dramas where spies surgically sculpted themselves to look like someone else a bit too seriously.

  “You’re good to sail ma’am," the marine declared. She raised her rifle in salute. “The main hatch is amidships. Keep walking straight after the gate, and you can’t miss the gantry’s elevator.”

  “Lieutenant,” Claire said, “I’ll guide you aboard via your headgear.” The last words emanated from an earpiece.

  Sarah strapped on her duffle bag and hurried into the cavernous hangar. The sight within caused her gait to falter. Like a silvery dragon poised to leap skyward, the Maelstrom-class MSV Tsunami stretched above.

  "Wow,” she said, breathless.

  She strolled toward the battleship: a hexagonal tower about one hundred fifty meters tall and twenty meters thick along the waist. The top third swelled to thirty meters ac
ross and tapered into an elongated dome. At the stern flared an enormous, latticed nozzle about the size of the bow section. The ship gleamed as if someone had dipped it into a giant vat of chrome paint.

  Sarah stared like a child mesmerized by a glistening crystalline sculpture. She drew a breath and whispered, “She’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, she is,” Claire said with pride. “Now, if you’ll get aboard, ma’am, I’ll direct you to Captain Paulson in the Combat Information Center. She’s expecting you.”

  Entranced, Sarah nodded while following a holographic arrow toward the lift. Along the way, she craned her head. The Tsunami was adorned with various retracted antennas, instrument booms, and weapons turrets. Shadowed pits of thruster ports clustered fore and aft. Entire stretches of the hull crinkled like an accordion. The horizontal ridges, each a few meters between peak and valley, formed perfect, broad angles—part of the vessel’s heat radiator system.

  Moments before boarding the elevator, her gaze locked onto the thin outline of missile hatches. The silos marched up the ship’s middle in a precise grid, their presence stirring a measure of apprehension into Sarah’s admiration. She sensed awe-inspiring forces within the Tsunami: devastating power like that of the ship’s namesake on a planet she’d only seen vids about. Sarah found the mix intoxicating.

  This is going to be one terrific ride.

  Once onboard, Claire said, “The CIC is through the hatch and three levels up the stairs on your left.”

  Sarah wasted no time delving inside, soaking in every sensation. The interior was bathed in the warm glow of back-lighting. A faint whine of machinery tickled her ears while tangs of lubricants, sweat, and synthetic chemicals tickled her nostrils.

  She had just reached the steep stairwell’s rails when Claire spoke again. “Change of plans, ma’am. Captain Paulson is on her way down. She’s been called to a meeting on base.”

  Sarah’s hand instinctually shot upward to ensure that her pink hair remained neatly pinned back. Afterward, she hoisted her gear, swallowed a sudden lump of anxiety, and climbed to the next deck.

  As soon as Sarah reached the top, she heard a woman explaining to someone, “And the admiral said we’re picking up a Lieutenant Commander Blake from Intel, so see what you can do about quarters. Also, there's….”

  Sarah slid to the stairwell's side, grounded her bag, and snapped to attention. The tight-bunned head of a middle-aged woman strode into view. Sarah noted her rank.

  The captain paused mid-stride and, with a pleasant smile, said, “Ah, Miss Riley. Welcome aboard the Tsu. At ease.”

  Sarah swept both hands to her spine’s base. Warmed by the woman’s greeting, Sarah beamed. “Not a problem, Captain. It’s a dream come true just to be here.”

  “I like the enthusiasm, Lieutenant,” Paulson said, nodding. “Sorry I had to cancel our appointment, but it seems BELCOM has a few more mission details to discuss before we leave. We’ll get properly acquainted later. Lieutenant Sean Merrick here will take you in hand.”

  As Paulson moved down the stairs, Sarah caught her first glimpse of the Lieutenant. Her eyes widened. She drank in the sight of crystal gray irises set above apple cheeks and a rounded jaw.

  “Welcome aboard, L.T.,” Lieutenant Merrick said, all-business.

  Sarah’s smile broadened. “Thank you, sir.”

  Location: Wardroom, MSV Tsunami_

  In short order, Sarah settled in and met her new boss, a drawl-laden character named Doctor Apple from Nuevo Texas Colony. A few hours later, they filed into the ship’s wardroom stuffed with people. She couldn’t help feeling giddy over her first real mission briefing. To distract herself while they waited, she scanned the sea of milling people from the makeshift stage she and the other new crew members shared.

  Before long, she found Lieutenant Merrick standing near a wall with the senior staff. When he caught her gaze, she fought off the smiling budding at the corners of her lips, but she was sure her face had brightened a couple shades. He acknowledged her with a dipped chin.

  Sarah’s musings ended when someone barked, “Captain on deck!” In reflex, everyone straightened as if rods had been rammed through their spines. In the low gravity, some bobbed a few centimeters taller than the rest. Captain Paulson stepped in front of the crowd. She wore a mired expression Sarah had come to associate with doctors bearing bad news.

  Affecting none of her earlier warmth, Paulson ordered the assembly to stand at ease. She said a few words of greeting then prompted the new crew members to introduce themselves. The moment the last crewman spoke, Paulson cleared the stage.

  Without further preamble, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen, most of you know we’re running a counter-smuggling op, but as you might've guessed, this isn’t business as usual.” She turned toward someone offstage. “Lieutenant Commander Christopher Blake from the 31st Fleet Intelligence Detachment will brief our mission.”

  A man with a shaven pate and early thirty-something features stepped up. The seal of Mykonian Fleet Intelligence flared to life above the commander in Sarah’s holo-visor. Red-lettered cautions about the presentation’s secret status overlaid the image. Sarah stiffened.

  “I trust,” Blake began, “that I don’t need to go over the severe consequences for sharing anything of what we cover here with anyone outside of the ship.” He paused to let the warning sink in. “First, some context.” A bulleted list appeared. “Wardens, as you all know, treat warfare like some kind of a game.”

  Sarah nodded as she read the slide. Everything seemed familiar. Only capital ships could mount heavy weapons and missiles. Colonies could neither attack nor be attacked by spacecraft. Troops had to make do with nothing more powerful than hand-carried rockets, small mortars and fifty-caliber rounds unless they wanted to answer to the almighty Wardens.

  After a few seconds, Blake continued. “In these and other ways, the Wardens minimize the mess that they have to clean up after a conflict.”

  The slide flipped to the picture of a cylindrical A.I. computer core. Its fat, obsidian housing loomed over a small, white cube connected to its side. The image zoomed onto the device. Sarah shivered at the sight.

  Blake said, “In case you’ve forgotten what they look like, this is an Arbiter.”

  Sarah swallowed an unpleasant lump in her throat. Arbiters were supposed to be history. They were the ultimate strategic weapon that everyone wanted to forget about. The things allowed ships and colonies to fire on anything within the Warden-decreed ten-thousand-kilometer targeting limit.

  Sarah shot Sean a worried look. From across the room, she saw that his eyes had narrowed. She was glad to see she wasn’t alone; many others in the crowd stirred as well.

  Blake said, “A missile wired to an Arbiter could be shot out of a cargo pod from anywhere inside of a habitat. Using an Arbiter in or against a colony will also trigger an Unrestricted Warfare condition there. For thirty days after, the colony has the same status as a warship. Any weapons can be used in and around the colony.

  “As a mercy, the Wardens charge so many industrial credits for Arbiters that empires have to bankrupt themselves to get one. Only two are thought to have ever existed. The last was destroyed during the Belian Revolt.”

  A disconcerting thought entered Sarah’s mind. The Tsunami was going on a counter-smuggling mission. We’re not hunting for a new Arbiter, are we?

  Blake surveyed the gathering before saying, “With all this in mind, I’m here to share the following. Yesterday, we received credible evidence that a Lakshmian crime syndicate called Lilith’s Cartel has obtained at least four Arbiters.”

  Several people in the audience gasped.

  “At the moment,” Blake noted, “we can’t explain how Lilith’s Cartel came to possess so many. But here's the thing… We know they are real. We are confident the Wardens would’ve quickly killed anyone who dared to produce a counterfeit. And no, the cost of an Arbiter in the industrial catalog hasn't gone down. All we have to account for this situation are theor
ies: none of them likely and none of them pleasant.” A grainy image appeared in everyone’s visors. “The following footage came from Lakshmi.”

  The photo, taken from an elevated angle, depicted several open cargo pods. Gleaming conical shapes lay within each container.

  “This box you see here has a pair of Mark VII nuclear missiles in it. Mark VII’s have a ten-kiloton, enhanced radiation warhead, also known as a neutron bomb.”

  Sarah groaned.

  Blake spelled out the danger. “If one of these detonated a klick above a colony’s inner surface it would deliver a lethal radiation dose for up to a thousand-meter radius. A direct strike to a colony’s skin would, of course, destroy a large segment of the structure, causing a catastrophic rotational imbalance.”

  He flipped to another slide of more missile-laden containers. “These are Mark X’s with megaton strength tips.” A diagram of the Belian system winked in. “An old Imperial ship bearing an Arbiter is responsible for the cloud of scrap orbiting where Rama Colony used to be. The following is a computer recreation of what happened there. You may recall this from the news reports,” Blake went on as a video appeared on everyone’s visor display.

  She vaguely remembered hearing about Rama as a kid and had never wanted to know more. She watched the screen with trepidation as several indistinct ships hovered beside a spinning colony’s docking bay. A single missile spat forth from the closest vessel. The camera followed the spear-like weapon as it flew past the station’s gaping bay doors. Then the animation cut the exterior away to show the missile punching through the bay’s far end. The projectile traveled several hundred meters more before bursting into a fireball that shattered the habitat’s front.

  Sarah could barely watch.

  “This is what happens when a nuclear bomb does a head-on with a colony,” Blake declared. “The explosion shattered the end section of Rama, and the colony’s centrifugal force tore the damaged structure apart within days. Some of the pieces crashed back onto the rest of the cylinder, setting off a devastating cascade. When the colony didn’t surrender, they hit it again and again until there was nothing left but bodies and a shredded hulk.”