The Blue Corsair (Five Empires Book 1)

by Steven J Shelley

  He managed to work some light damage into one of the enemy units, but the true value of his maneuver lay in the drawing of enemy fire. His comrades took the opportunity to work flanking angles into their attacks, ambushing the unsuspecting drones from above and below.

  The sandy sea floor was soon littered with violet Cavan corpses. From what Michael could tell, only a handful of Aegisi had fallen in the skirmish. He suspected the same would be true all along the Aegisi line.

  It was time to press home the advantage.

  Michael followed the corsairs into the sun-pierced, shimmering water. These soldiers had tasted blood and were eager for more. There was an indignant edge to their fighting, as if they were taking out their rage at being betrayed by the Cava05. Though he was inexperienced when it came to battle, Michael was smart enough to recognize the danger of complacency as the Aegisi pressed forward through the beleaguered Cavan infantry.

  All it would take to end his life was a stray plasma bolt to the head. He therefore advanced cautiously, letting the trained professionals lead a more strategic charge through the next wave of attackers. Once another melee had erupted Michael hung back from the throng, picking off enemy drones with his assault rifle. It wasn’t the noblest form of combat but it helped reduce the superior enemy numbers, particularly when the Cava05 tried to swarm the Aegisi.

  The corsairs mauled their way through a third skiff attack and found themselves under a tower mech’s legs. The huge unit hesitantly peppered the water with heavy flak fire, unwilling to rip through the ailing drones. By this stage several drone regiments were drifting lifelessly on the sea floor. The enemy kept coming.

  His body awash with lactic acid, Michael let himself rise to the water’s surface. The first thing he saw as he broke through was the tower mech, its arms raised above its head. The left appendage was unleashing a hellish torrent of flak at a circling icebird. Jake broke through the surface a few yards away. The Nostroma wore the grin of a man flushed with the unholy adrenalin of battle.

  “Looks like the corsairs have this battle in hand,” he said. “We should go see if we can help at the crash site.”

  Michael nodded, surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. The Tranquility couldn’t be more than a couple of clicks to the west. Now that the flagship had served its purpose as a ballistic weapon, Michael wondered if the Aegisi Councilors would now be returning to the relative sanctuary of the vessel.

  He instinctively knew his place was on board that ship.

  “Let’s go,” he said, already impatient. He and Jake stroked their way under the surface, wary of the looming mech. It appeared that the enemy was taking defensive measures, aware that it had lost control of the battle. Apart from the lone mech there were no support units for the hundreds of drones in the water. It was as if the Cava05 had conceded the battle and withdrawn to a safe location.

  A tall plume of jet black smoke on the horizon suggested their flagship Node One had come to a watery end. Michael wasn’t a spiteful person by nature but he fervently hoped there were hundreds of Cavan survivors flailing in the water, surrounded by sharks and bowhead whales.

  Of course, the Aegisi flagship had also crashed, but it had been built by an amphibious race and stood a strong chance of rising again.

  Michael let the various neuro-chemicals of battle drain from his system as he powered gracefully through the water. At length the vast bulk of the Tranquility could be seen through the distant water profile. The late afternoon sun had deserted the eastward side of the crashed vessel, leaving it shrouded in cold, watery darkness.

  Michael and Jake hesitated in the shadowy depths, unsure which direction to take. The Nostroma spotted a flashing bay where one of the escape pods had been released. It had evidently malfunctioned and stayed open. Unlike almost every other military craft in the galaxy, the Tranquility was entirely flood proof. Not only were there water-air membranes at strategic choke points within the ship, but every strand of circuitry had been carefully insulated against water damage.

  The idea was that every Aegisi vessel in the fleet should be able to go where the Aegisi themselves could. It wasn’t uncommon to see warships crawling along the bottoms of wide freshwater lakes on Solitude.

  Michael hauled himself through the circular passage that led to the starboard pod bay. From there the pair were able to gain access to one of the lower deck corridors. Much of the lower starboard had been flooded, but Michael found a functional water-air membrane mid-decks. Beyond the membrane stood a cluster of drop shafts. The pair rode to the upper bridge and stepped inside. The flagship seemed utterly deserted.

  25

  The gently undulating bridge was illuminated by soft emergency lights. Two Aegisi pilots were handcuffed to one of the central nav consoles. One was slumped against the chrome at an odd angle. Jake felt for a pulse.

  “Dead,” he concluded.

  “Thanks for the detailed report,” Michael said, checking on the other pilot. This one was barely conscious. Jake produced one of the colored balls from his utility belt, crushed it in his fist and ran it under the pilot’s nose. The woman spluttered back to life and looked at the pair warily.

  “Did we win?” she asked in a weak voice.

  Jake busied himself with the handcuffs, rupturing the closed circuit with a small metal tool. Michael wasn’t surprised to see he carried all the tools of a petty criminal.

  “You were forced to stay on board?” Michael asked the pilot.

  “You crazy?” she replied indignantly. “We live in a republic, not a dictatorship. We volunteered to be cuffed. It was important we didn’t leave our posts.”

  Michael resisted a surge of anger. He knew all about volunteering for the Aegisi Republic. Still, it was interesting how dedicated these soldiers were, and how well-organized the Navy was. It seemed his grievance lay mainly with the Aegisi government. Specifically, the Aegisi Round Table. He reminded himself of his primary reason for being on the Tranquility as he helped the woman to her feet.

  “Are the Councilors still alive?” he asked, feigning concern.

  “They were evacuated in one of the pods,” the pilot said in a trembling voice, looking down at her dead companion.

  “I know this is hard,” Michael said, “but is there a beacon we can activate?”

  The pilot’s face lit up. “Of course. If the battle’s over, we can set up a homing signal.”

  The young woman led the pair to a waist-high graphite slab.

  “Strategy station,” Jake said, impressed.

  “Latest tech,” the pilot said proudly. Her fingers danced over a keypad and the graphite began rolling gently. It quickly formed what looked like the downed Tranquility before spreading to model the surrounding seascape. The full scene extended to about five clicks and included Samalar Island.

  The best part was the activity recognition. There were hundreds of small blinking spheres, some underwater, some in the air, some on the island. The blue spheres were Aegisi units, identifiable by the quantum chips buried in their forearms. The AI assumed all other moving bipeds were Cavan, and allocated those spheres a violet color.

  The three-dimensional model told a startling tale of success. The Cava05 were in full retreat. The corsair army had pushed further west, beyond the Tranquility crash site, in pursuit of a retreating mech unit. The mech was also being harassed by a squad of icebirds. All Cavan air units seemed to be concentrated near a violet blob far to the west, in the Andavar Sea.

  “Cavan destroyer, maybe even a cruiser,” the pilot murmured, stabbing a finger at the blob. “Looks like they’re regrouping.”

  “They’re doin’ more than that, sweetheart,” Jake said. “You frogs have a foothold on Cerulean now. It’d take weeks to weed these oceans of the Aegisi. Now that Node One is a shark-ridden wreck, the Cava05 isn’t likely to commit more resources to a planet they barely valued in the first place.”

  The pilot’s eyes were alive with triumph. “This has been a famous victory.”

&
nbsp; Michael watched the hundreds of blinking orbs in fascination, unable to shake a mild feeling of disappointment. In his darkest fantasies he saw himself getting an opportunity to slay Yashom15. If that slimy individual had been on Node One, he was probably already dead. The prospect of him escaping on one of the remaining Cavan warships didn’t bear thinking about.

  “The homing signal,” he said, forcing himself to focus on something else.

  “Of course,” the pilot replied, marching over to her nav console and triggering the signal. “We’ll need to gather more crew before the Tranquility can be made functional. At least fifty critical stations need to be manned. Why don’t you boys get some sleep? You look like you need it.”

  The pilot couldn’t take her eyes off the Nostroma, but if she had any misgivings about him she didn’t say anything.

  Michael had to admit he was bone tired. He allowed the pilot to lead him into what looked like an executive meeting room. The air was cool and refreshing. Michael’s eyes widened at the vast array of packaged foodstuffs and exotic beverages. He wondered how many alien dignitaries had set foot in here.

  “Take what you need,” the pilot said. There are lounges through those doors. “I can wake you when we’re ready to fire the propulsion bulb. You’ll probably hear it anyway.”

  The woman smiled, and Michael suddenly felt an intense compassion for her. She’d clearly lost most if not all her friends but her first priority was the comfort of two bedraggled men she’d never met. Once again Michael could only feel a profound respect and appreciation for the Aegisi Navy.

  With a twinge of regret he pondered what his life might’ve been like had he realized his boyhood dream of joining Navy ranks. But such thoughts were frivolous. Right now all he wanted to do was eat his fill and find some corner to rest in. Jake fixed him with a wry grin.

  “The primitives?” he drawled.

  Michael couldn’t help but smile. “The primitives,” he agreed.

  The men attacked the refrigerated food without fear or favor. Michael wasn’t quite sure what his fiery red strips were exactly, but they tasted vaguely like paprika and they didn’t immediately kill him. Jake seemed to recognize most of the delicacies and had carefully assembled an assorted tray.

  “They had me in mind when they built this room,” he said conspiratorially.

  Michael had a sudden thought. “Are you vulnerable in here?” he asked. “I mean, after what happened with my sister.”

  The Nostroma shrugged in typical fashion. “As far as I know the Aegisi haven’t declared war on the Nostroma,” he said. “Well, not yet, anyway.”

  Michael wanted to explore that concept further but the lure of sleep was much greater. He wandered into an open lounge area where he found a comfortable divan flush with pillows. He was asleep moments after settling down, descending into the dreamless slumber of the battle-weary.

  26

  As the pilot predicted, Michael woke to the pervasive hum of the Tranquility’s propulsion bulbs. The executive lounge was quiet and empty. The only other occupant was Jake, who yawned noisily from the opposite divan. As Michael was stretching his sore, tender body, an injured corsair was carried in on a stretcher.

  The medics kills the compression jets and gently laid the man on a free divan. He was missing his right leg and seemed heavily sedated. Michael stood over the injured corsair as the medics rushed off on another job. The fact they were using the executive lounge to house wounded suggested the med bay was full.

  The forager looked into the soldier’s sanguine eyes and found a peculiar sense of anger. He couldn’t get the image of the Aegisi Councilors from his mind. They had been the ones to send Emilia to Cerulean in order to ‘appease’ the Cavan negotiator Yashom15. They had been the ones to commit the entire Aegisi Navy to colonizing the ocean planet immediately without diligently scouting the sector first.

  The Aegisi Round Table had proven themselves to be inexcusably naive and incompetent. There was no doubt that their smug ineptitude had cost thousands of soldiers’ lives. Jake lay a hand on Michael’s shoulder. The forager turned sharply, annoyed that his dark reverie had been broken.

  “The battle’s done and won,” the Nostroma said softly. “Better still, you’ve proven yourself in the eyes of those that matter. The soldiers.”

  “I also killed two of them in cold blood,” Michael pointed out.

  “That was personal,” Jake said with a frown. “You Aegisi struggle to recognize the basic triggers in your own heads.”

  “You Nostroma struggle to restrain your urges,” Michael retorted. “So don’t presume to lecture me, Jake.”

  The Nostroma took a conciliatory step back. “All I’m sayin’ is that you still have a chance to choose life,” he said. “It’s not too late.”

  Michael looked at Jake warily. It was almost impossible to get a handle on the man’s motivations. “You drove me hard to get to this point,” Michael said. “Why? What do you gain through the Aegisi reclaiming Cerulean?”

  Jake assumed a solemnity that seemed foreign to him. Not false, or out of place, just unusual.

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said hesitantly. “And it may as well be now.”

  Michael had never seen such doubt in the Nostroma before. The effect was strangely unsettling.

  “Kid, my father was nothing like me,” Jake explained. “You see, I-”

  The pair were interrupted by a crisp Aegisi officer in a soft blue leather utility suit. “Provost Lara,” said the woman, extending her hand to both. “You must be Michael Danner. And Jake Le Sondre, of course.”

  “How did you find us?” Michael blurted, a flurry of anxious thoughts tumbling through him. Did the Navy know about the Shaw and Tilder executions? Surely Michael would already be in solitary confinement if that were true.

  The provost smiled. “Well, a young man wearing customized armor alongside a tall Nostroma is reasonably hard to miss.”

  She had a point.

  “Is the battle over?” Jake asked quickly.

  “Why don’t you come take a look for yourselves?” Lara said warmly. The provost led the pair back through the diplomacy room and out onto the bridge. The young pilot from earlier was nowhere to be seen - probably getting some much-needed sleep.

  At first Michael though the Tranquility was still underwater, but he was surprised to find that the inky blackness filling the viewscreen was actually space. Cerulean’s immense bulk hove into view. The ocean planet really was a splendid picture from high orbit. The bridge was buzzing with a full complement of navigators, suggesting the flagship had regained no small measure of functionality.

  “How long were we asleep?” Jake asked no one in particular.

  “Over eight hours,” Michael said, checking his wrist pad.

  “The Cava05 beat a full retreat,” Lara said proudly. “They salvaged what they could from Node One, then regrouped on the other side of the planet. The last we detected of their fleet was a heavy drift signature on the edge of the sector.”

  Michael found himself sagging with intense relief. The immediate threat to his life, the black cloud that hung over Cerulean like a death sentence these last few days, had been banished. All he could do was hope Yashom15 had been killed somehow.

  “They won’t be back for at least a year,” Jake mused, answering Michael’s unspoken question. “If they come back at all.”

  “They wanted to neutralize our Navy,” the provost agreed. “But we gave them more than they bargained for.”

  Provost Lara, an attache to the highest ranking officers on Tranquility, looked at the motley pair with a bright smile.

  “You could both do with a shower, but there’s nothing else for it. Follow me.”

  “Where we headed?” Michael asked suspiciously.

  “Admiral Zhavar is addressing the troops,” Lara replied. “Well, those who can stand anyway. I suspect you might get a special mention, if Captain Varosk’s report is anything to go by.”


  Michael wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of fronting up to the soldiers just yet. The executions of Captain Tilder and Major Shaw prevented him from happily engaging with these brave people. In any case, there was still the raw memory of his sister that clawed at his spirit relentlessly.

  Every time he pictured Emilia’s corpse he was reminded that there was now nothing in this galaxy that could make him happy or bring peace to his soul. No prospects, no hope, no future. There was no turning back from the path he had chosen. The path that his honor demanded.

  His mind a whorl of conflicting emotions, Michael followed the provost out into the flagship’s main hangar. Hundreds of filthy, exhausted corsairs stood before a makeshift platform. A tall, authoritative brunette was addressing her troops in warm tones.

  Michael figured it must be Admiral Zhavar. Behind the Admiral stood two familiar figures in cobalt blue robes. Michael’s heart almost stopped when he recognized Councilors Follah and Achand. Struggling to contain his emotion, he allowed himself to be led up on the platform alongside his unlikely Nostroma companion. The Admiral glanced at the pair and smiled.

  “Corsairs, I am now able to present to you the architects of the Cavan defeat,” she said glowingly.

  There was a rousing cheer from the weary corsairs. Michael saw Captain Varosk clapping enthusiastically in the front row. Several of the corsairs nursed their customized breastplates protectively. In a way that meant more to Michael than the cheers and the bombast. It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to produce any more.

  “Gentlemen, you packed quite a list of feats into a short space of time,” Zhavar said with a twinkle in her eye. “First, you gave a forlorn, broken battalion a reason to continue. Jake, you provided valuable intel on the Yeneri supply bases. Michael, you used one of these bases to craft armor for Varosk’s soldiers. Seems our early childhood recruiters missed one.”

  The remark might once have delighted Michael, but right then he could only feel a queasy brand of fear. He knew his opportunity would come, and that he needed to grasp it with both hands. He would hate, no, detest himself if he missed the chance to avenge Emilia and make things right.