“We have to take one by force,” said Alex.
“How and where?” asked Summers.
“We could board and capture one of the mining ships leaving TR 307. As it brings its cargo to Tybur, we dock and board a shuttle down to the planet. No one would be the wiser,” said Alex.
“We don’t have time for that,” said Tristan. “TR 307 is out of the way. The longer we wait, the more likely our information on Tybur will have gone stale. Assuming it was ever any good to begin with.”
“And the more likely Intel Wing will catch up to us,” said Calvin, thinking of Nimoux fast on their heels. “This is what we need to do,” said Calvin.
He explained that the Nighthawk could enter Tybur System under cover of stealth. Alliance technology lagged behind Imperial, so the Nighthawk would go undetected. As long as the Nighthawk kept its distance. They’d wait for an ideal ship to enter the system—shouldn’t take long, Tybur saw heavy amounts of traffic—then they’d quietly intercept the ship, jam its communications, disable its weapons, dock, and perform a moving capture. Its thrusters would remain intact and it would continue on course to Tybur’s primary station, seemingly unimpeded. They’d take the crew captive onto the Nighthawk, replacing it with the shore party, and the Nighthawk would withdraw to a safe distance. Remaining stealthed the entire time.
“Sounds like science fiction to me,” said Summers.
“No it’s definitely possible,” said Calvin. “So long as we do this fast and prevent the other ship from getting a distress call out, this is totally doable.” It was the kind of operation the Nighthawk had been designed for.
“And if we screw up and they get a message out?” asked Summers.
“Then we all die,” said Alex. “The system will be swarming with military ships, that’s how they fend off pirate raiders. Make no mistake, what you propose is a do or die operation.”
“So we don’t screw up,” said Calvin. “What do you say, Pellew? Are your men up for it?”
“If your pilot is good enough to align the airlocks and seals and latch us onto another moving ship, then there won’t be a problem. My men will capture the ship swiftly.”
“Sarah is definitely good enough,” said Calvin. “You and your soldiers should use non-lethal weapons if possible, and you can’t leave behind any evidence that there was a firefight.”
“Oh it won’t be a fight,” said Pellew. “That civilian crew will be incapacitated and in custody before they know we’re even aboard.”
The comm panel beeped. Calvin pushed the button. “Yes?”
“Cal, we’re getting some disturbing reports up here from SF HQ,” said Sarah.
Pellew’s eyes widened with alarm. He bolted out of the room, presumably to go check on the situation in person.
“What is it, Sarah?” asked Calvin.
“Tensions between some of the Polarians and humans are really high.”
“I’m not surprised by that,” said Calvin. That was nothing new.
“Yeah but...” she paused, “there’s been a fight.”
“What?”
“Yeah, apparently a Polarian and two humans are in the infirmary under heavy guard. Special Forces had to contain the situation.”
Just what he needed... “Thanks, Sarah.” He let go of the switch and turned to Summers. “Please explain the plan to Sarah and Miles. We’re proceeding with the mission as scheduled. In the meantime, I’d better go below and make sure this gets sorted out.”
“Aye, sir.”
***
When Calvin reached the infirmary, he found that—fortunately—the injuries were not very severe. The Polarian had a bandage across his head and, though the humans sported quite a few bruises, they were otherwise unscathed.
“Mind explaining to me why I have three people in my infirmary for no good reason?” asked Rain as Calvin entered.
“I wish I could answer that,” said Calvin. “How are they doing? They don’t look too bad.”
“Polarian physiology is very resilient, that one could return to duty today. As for the two humans, I think they could use a day or two to mend. I gave them something for the pain.”
None of the patients were being discharged, and each was under the close watch of a human soldier. All would be held for disciplinary action. Because the two humans were soldiers, and obviously so was the Polarian, the task of deciding their punishments fell to Pellew and Rez’nac. Both of whom, Rain informed him, were on their way.
Pellew arrived first. No doubt coming straight from HQ after issuing new standing orders to contain the situation. He approached his men and gave them a thorough berating. Both the humans and the Polarian claimed the other side had been the instigator in what had erupted from an argument in the mess hall. Calvin wondered if this would be an isolated incident, or if he’d have to segregate the humans from the Polarians when taking meals.
“I’m sorry to drag you into this,” said Calvin to Rain.
She let out a quiet sigh. “I know this isn’t your fault. But it does make me sad to see it,” she looked at her patients. “I like helping people. But... this is just plain senseless and unnecessary.”
“You’re preaching to the converted.”
“You don’t suppose this is about cultural differences?” asked Rain.
“I’m sure that’s part of it. But I really can’t say for sure.”
“If the humans started it, maybe it’s because they feel threatened by the Polarians. That they are encroaching or something. If the Polarian started it, perhaps it’s because they feel left out and untrusted?”
Calvin knew Rain was only speculating, but it got him thinking. He had never bothered to involve Rez’nac or any Polarians in his intelligence meetings, or the decision-making process. Knowing the little he did of Rez’nac, he doubted the old Polarian commander minded. However some of the younger ones, including Rez’nac’s son, didn’t seem as committed to making things work smoothly with the humans. Calvin took a good look at the Polarian in the infirmary, who silently awaited Rez’nac’s arrival and punishment—whatever it was. This Polarian was undoubtedly one of the younger ones, as his blue skin was richer and more saturated with color than many of the others.
“I think I’m going to let the Polarians be more involved,” said Calvin, more to himself than to Rain. Perhaps if he invited Rez’nac to his intel meetings, and it was known that the Polarians had a say in what they chose to do, they would be less likely to feel enmity or participate in hostilities. “Thank you, Rain,” Calvin smiled at her.
She smiled back. “Sure thing.” Clearly unsure what he was thanking her for.
Chapter 17
Calvin stood on the bridge in casual clothes that the quartermaster had supplied. He had light jeans, flexible tactical boots—which concealed a holstered subcompact pistol—and wore a pullover hooded sweatshirt. The rest of the shore party was similarly dressed and was gathered at airlock three. Out of necessity, all of them were humans—except Tristan, who at least looked human. Calvin didn’t like leaving such a strong force of Polarians behind on the Nighthawk but there was no possible way the large aliens could blend into the crowds of Tybur.
Calvin would meet up with the team later. He wanted to remain on the bridge until the last possible moment, so he could command the capture operation. No one else aboard had more experience.
“We have arrived in Tybur System,” announced Sarah. The luminescent yellow star was barely visible out the window.
“There is a huge presence of military starships here,” said Shen. “The system is swollen with patrols.”
Calvin was not surprised. “Defense status, Miles?”
“The stealth system is running like a champ,” said Miles. “Should it fail, all the mounted guns are loaded and ready.”
“And the beam weapon?”
He was loath to have the beam weapon charged, it increased the chances of their being seen, however, Shen had adjusted the system to fire an adjusted particle beam that was m
eant to overload the target ship’s communications array. Or so Calvin had understood it. He doubted he’d intuited the science correctly but the overarching point was simple—target the array and fire. So long as the energy weapon was in effect, the other ship’s communication array would fail. Apparently this was a more sure bet than jamming transmitted frequencies like Calvin had first suggested.
“The beam weapon is ready,” said Miles. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t do anything at all. I’ll be ready to switch to something with some actual teeth if things get dicey.”
“It’ll work,” insisted Shen.
“Scan and analyze the local flight patterns and see how the Tybur authorities are directing traffic in and out of the system,” said Calvin to Shen. “Then identify the ideal place to ambush a solitary ship and send those coordinates to Sarah.”
“Already narrowed it down,” said Shen. “Sending the coordinates.”
“Got them,” said Sarah.
“Move us to that position,” said Calvin. “Then answer all stop.”
“Moving now. Accelerating to fifty-two thousand mc’s per second. ETA two minutes.”
“Miles, keep an eye on that stealth system. Make sure it’s powered and stable.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Shen, keep checking our stealth integrity, see if you can identify any heat or energy leaks that would give us away.”
“Will do, so far so good.”
As the ship moved, the 3d display showed a dark volcanic planet with several tiny bases and ships orbiting around it—no larger than tiny specks. The Tybur colony was unlike any other colony in the galaxy because it existed on a planet that was totally inhospitable to life. The atmosphere was choked with extremely dense, deadly gases and there wasn’t so much as a microbe of bacteria that survived the harsh environment. The people lived in floating cantons, air-tight, climate-controlled cities that hovered in the sky and rode the air currents like balloons. The relatively lighter gases of oxygen and nitrogen that formed the human habitats allowed the cantons to bob up and down in the sky, far above the deadly surface.
None of the cantons were visible on the 3d display, but they had powerful beacons that could guide planetary shuttles to their various landing bays. The cantons floated independently of each other, and didn’t stay in any fixed place, and traffic between them was a delicate enterprise of shuttles constantly coming and going. Despite the inherent dangers, the Tyburian people had perfected the process—or so the Intel Wing spies on the planet reported. The Tyburian colony was often cited in articles as one of the most mind-blowing artificial creations of humanity, and Calvin had always wanted to see the marvelous airborne cantons with his own eyes. None of his previous missions in the DMZ had taken him here.
“Answering all stop,” said Sarah. “We’re in position.”
“Shen, keep an eye out for an appropriate target ship. Something that will be cleared to dock with the primary station, but doesn’t have enough crew to mount a protracted resistance to our boarding party.”
“Right, like we talked about. There are a few options. Though they seem to be travelling in groups of two or more.”
“Patience. Let’s get one by itself.”
“Aye, sir.”
The vast military presence in the system was impressive. The 3d display alone revealed over a dozen warships in some kind of patrol—and Calvin knew the Nighthawk’s scopes picked up dozens more. Most of which were more powerful and battle-hardened than the typical sentry ship. This was a dangerous part of the galaxy, saturated with raiders and very near Rotham space. These humans, who managed to survive without any assistance from the Empire for over a hundred years, and kept some of the most coveted resources in their possession, had done so through fierce measures and the development of an exceptionally lethal military.
“Here’s one,” said Shen. “Small freighter that’s just jumped into the system. It’s en route to dock with the primary station. Based on its current approach vector and speed, we have about six minutes.”
“Do it,” said Calvin.
“Intercept course plotted,” said Sarah. “We’ll be on top of the ship in a few seconds.”
“When we attach ourselves, they will be able to see us,” said Shen.
“Miles, is that beam ready?”
“Yep. I’ve targeted their comms array.”
“Fire, and sustain fire.”
“You got it. Beam is hot. They can’t talk to nobody now,” said Miles.
“Shen, confirm their comm system is disabled.”
“Confirmed.”
“Good. Sarah, move us on top of that ship and match their speed. When she’s in position, Shen, attach the seals.”
The seconds ticked by and Sarah, looking extremely flustered, forced the ship into a more aggressive set of maneuvers than expected. Eating away some of their precious time.
“What’s the delay?” asked Calvin.
“They’re going into an evasive maneuver,” said Sarah.
“They must have realized their communications are down and gotten suspicious,” said Shen. “Any moment their erratic flight pattern will be noticed by the system controllers and the military will go on alert.”
“Can you lock down their maneuver or do we have to abort?” asked Calvin.
“No, no, I got this,” said Sarah, biting her lip. “Come on...”
“Two Patrol ships have broken pattern and are on an intercept course. ETA Three minutes.”
“Looks like we won’t have time to move the captured crew onto the Nighthawk,” said Calvin, wondering how they could hide them. There must be a way...
“Got it!” said Sarah. “Seals and clamps are in place.”
“Execute,” said Calvin. He ran for the elevator. “Tell the shore party to begin capture operations. As soon as we’re clear, get the hell away from that ship. And whatever you do, stay stealthed! Summers has the deck.”
The elevator door closed and he punched the button for the lower floor.
***
“Clear! All hands aboard,” said a soldier as Calvin ran onto the Alliance ship. Once he was through the hatch, another soldier sealed it and sent word to the Nighthawk. Signaling them to pull away. Hopefully before the Alliance military ships spotted them.
“Take me to the bridge,” said Calvin. One of the soldiers led; they jogged through the long corridor that, no doubt, ran adjacent to the storage bay. As they ran, Calvin saw no signs of any resistance. True to his word, Pellew seemed to have taken the ship by swift surprise.
“We have control of the bridge,” Pellew’s voice crackled over the soldier’s radio.
“Let me see that,” said Calvin. The soldier handed him the radio. He pushed the transmit button. “What’s your status? Any casualties?”
“Negative. No casualties, all our people are safe. We have flight control and we’ve stabilized the ship’s flight path. But the Alliance warships demand an explanation for our erratic approach.”
“Tell them we experienced a systems failure,” said Calvin.
“Roger that.”
They reached the end of the hall. “The bridge is through that hatch and to the right,” said the soldier.
“Thank you.”
He followed the man’s instructions and arrived at the freighter’s surprisingly small bridge. Pellew was there, as was Tristan, and a soldier who had some minor flight training. There was also a man sitting on the floor, wrists ziptied together—Calvin guessed he was the ship’s captain.
“Welcome to the bridge,” said Pellew.
Calvin didn’t waste time greeting him and instead relieved the soldier at the helm and took the controls. He was nowhere near as skilled as Sarah, but he’d begun his career as a pilot and still knew a thing or two. “Did they buy our story?” he asked.
“Not sure,” said Pellew.
Calvin realized his console doubled as ops. He did a quick scan and noted that the two warships were still nearby, and had taken up es
cort positions.
“They’re going to make sure we get to the station safely,” said Pellew.
“What does that mean?” asked Calvin. “Did they believe us or not?”
“It could be standard procedure,” said Pellew. “I guess we’ll find out when we arrive.”
They received instructions from the patrolling Alliance warships and Calvin adjusted course accordingly. It put them into orbit around the planet while they awaited clearance to dock.
“I bet they’re checking out our story now,” said Calvin.
“I hope you submitted a flight-plan before you left,” said Calvin, now looking at the man who sat cross-legged on the floor, hands tied together. He wasn’t gagged but looked far too terrified to respond.
They were now in orbit and the immense, dark planet was visible out the window. From here it looked like a raging volcanic swirl of deadly dark clouds with temperatures hot enough to melt a person’s flesh right off his bones. Hard to imagine it was home to millions of people.
“I’ve explained to our new friend,” said Pellew, “what happens when we dock with that station. The authorities will ask him questions and he’ll vouch for each and every one of us. We are his hired crew. Isn’t that right?” Pellew looked down at their captive who shuddered.
“Yes,” he said, quivering a little. His anxiety was so obvious that Calvin feared it would give them away.
“Just... please... don’t sell me into slavery,” the man said, his voice trembling. His eyes went red and he burst into tears. “I want to see my family again!”
“Get it together,” said Pellew forcefully. The man shut up at once.
Calvin got up from his station and walked over to their captive. He drew a knife from where it had been concealed against his left calf. The captive looked horrified.
“What are you doing?” asked Pellew.
Calvin cut the man’s bonds then put the knife away. “We mean you no harm, I promise,” said Calvin. “And we’re not slavers,” he gave the man the most reassuring smile that he could. “We just need to get down to the cantons for a bit. You understand, right?”
The Phoenix Rising Page 19