Scornful Stars

by Richard Baker

  The Dremish agent seemed to arrive at a decision. “Lower your weapon, Commander North. This is how it’s going to—”

  Sikander fired.

  The mag dart caught Otto Bleindel in the jaw, shattering bone and teeth. He sagged back into the bulkhead behind him and somehow found the presence of mind to shift his pistol from the cylinder to Sikander—and then Petty Officer Jackson fired, punching two more darts into the Dremish agent and knocking him down to the deck. The heavy hydrogen cylinder spun in a half circle on its narrow base and fell to the deck with a resounding clang. Sikander flinched, but the cylinder withstood the impact.

  The instant he realized that the hydrogen wasn’t about to explode, he surged up from his crouch. Darting across the compartment, he kept his sights on Otto Bleindel, ready to fire again, but the Dremish agent had dropped his pistol. Bleindel tried to speak through his ruined mouth, spitting blood over his shirt. Then his eyes fluttered closed, and he lost consciousness.

  “Holy shit, sir,” Jackson breathed, moving up beside Sikander and kicking away Bleindel’s weapon. “What happened to ‘Hold your fire’?”

  “I saw a shot and I took it. And so did you, for which I am grateful—good work, Jackson. Restrain Mr. Bleindel, if you please, and guard him until we can send someone to help you get him to the brig.”

  “Okay, sir, but I don’t think he’s going anywhere.” The comm tech fished around in his utility belt for a set of tough plastic restraints.

  Sikander waited just long enough to make sure that the Dremish agent was secured, and then tapped his comm device. “Bridge, this is the captain. Signal Drachen and Zyklop to prepare to get under way. And open that escape scuttle, I’m coming up.” Then he hurried up the ladder to the bridge.

  23

  Meduse, Dahar Naval Shipyard

  Under Decisive’s watchful gaze, Drachen, Meduse, and Zyklop energized their drive plates and began to accelerate away from Dahar’s orbital shipyard. A little more than an hour ago, Sikander had boarded Meduse with twenty-seven officers and enlisted personnel. Seven of his sailors had been killed in the Dremish attempt to retake the cruiser and four more were so seriously wounded that they couldn’t help man the ship, leaving only sixteen people fit for duty in his prize crew. Michael Girard on Drachen reported that he’d only lost two sailors killed in action; he’d been fortunate enough to bottle up the Dremish boarding team in the torpedo room before they were able to mount an attack. Amar Shah on Zyklop, on the other hand, was down to only thirteen effectives, in part because he’d sent some of his people to help Girard during the initial seizure of the cruisers.

  It will have to be enough, Sikander told himself. A heavy cruiser typically carried a crew numbering of three to four hundred … but during routine sailing, the bridge could get by with just a few watchstanders, as could the main control station in the engineering spaces. Warships needed their large complements to man weapon mounts and damage-control parties during combat, but he had no intention of getting involved in a fight with his flotilla of prizes. Decisive sufficed to protect his undermanned cruisers from the Zerzuran gunboats now tailing the mismatched Aquilan squadron until they could charge up their warp rings and began their transits.

  He directed Master Chief Vaughn to take three crewhands—all he could spare at the moment—to remove their dead and wounded to the ship’s wardroom and then conduct a methodical sweep of Meduse for any Dremish or Zerzurans remaining on board. Sikander had to imagine that at least a few Neu Kiel sailors hadn’t been able to make up their minds about whether or not they should heed his advice, or were too badly wounded to get themselves to a lifeboat station and needed help.

  “Boy, the Dremish didn’t build these buckets for speed, did they?” Quartermaster Birk observed from his place at the helm. “I’ve got the throttle at the stops, Captain, and it looks like seventy-one g is all we’re going to get. And even at that Drachen isn’t quite keeping up with us.”

  “She’s thirty-five years old and she was built to be tough, not fast. Still, you make a good point about Drachen.” Sikander studied the tactical display, observing the slight deviation in each ship’s vector, and got back on the command channel. “Drachen, Meduse. Mr. Girard, what’s your best sustained acceleration, over?”

  “Meduse, Drachen. Sorry, sir, but it looks like sixty-nine point six is the best we can do,” Decisive’s operations officer replied. “We’ve got two drive plates out of commission and we’re not going to be able to power them up without a few days of work, over.”

  “Understood,” Sikander replied. “All ships, Meduse. Make your acceleration sixty-nine g. We’ll extend our transit acceleration time a little bit to initiate warp at nine percent c, over.”

  “Make acceleration sixty-nine g, aye,” Amelia Fraser, Michael Girard, and Amar Shah responded in turn. Then Amelia added, “Captain, Mr. Darrow would like to speak with you. I’m giving him a private channel.”

  “Very good.” Sikander selected the new channel while he watched the formation adjust its speed in Meduse’s display. “This is Commander North. How can I help you, Mr. Darrow?”

  Darrow’s angular face appeared in a comm window of the bridge display. “Ah, there you are. Commander, I suggest you initiate warp as quickly as possible. Marid Pasha is making some very ugly threats—I worry for the safety of Aquilan travelers and businesspeople in Zerzuran territory. If we leave before he escalates his language any further, he might not get around to making a threat he feels that he needs to act on. Can we begin our transit now?”

  “We’re not moving fast enough yet. At this speed, we’d turn a four-day transit into twenty-five days, and we simply don’t have the stores for that—the only provisions on board these cruisers are what we brought with us.” As it turned out, the Zerzurans hadn’t seen the need to stock the storerooms of ships that were still undergoing refit. Fortunately, Grant Edwards had pointed out that possibility to Sikander during their hurried mission planning, and the boarding teams had brought a few cases of field rations for the trip. Otherwise, Decisive’s prize crews would have been facing a long and hungry warp transit. “We’ll need another five hours of acceleration at a minimum before we can bubble up. I don’t suppose it would help if you pointed out that we’ll hold him personally responsible for the treatment of our citizens?”

  Darrow shook his head. “A counterthreat would only escalate things more. I’ll pass word to our consulates to issue a travel warning to Aquilan citizens, and I’ll ask some of my colleagues from friendly powers to look out for Aquilans who need help. I’m sure they’ll think we’ve lost our minds, but they might give me the benefit of the doubt once I provide a little more explanation. Please advise me if our departure time changes.”

  “Of course,” Sikander replied. “We will do our best, Mr. Darrow.”

  “Captain, the Dremish survey ship is overtaking us,” Petty Officer Tolbin reported. He manned the bridge’s sensor console in place of Petty Officer Diaz. “Bearing two-zero-five down ten, range sixty thousand kilometers.”

  “Polarstern?” Sikander limped over to Tolbin’s display to look for himself; the mag-dart graze on his leg was beginning to throb. Polarstern evidently had a better turn of speed than he would have expected from a survey vessel. Her acceleration wasn’t too much less than what Decisive was capable of, and she was easily twice the destroyer’s tonnage. What does she think she’s going to do when she gets here? he wondered. She might be fast enough to get in front of us and foul our transit course, delaying our departure by making us avoid collisions. But what would be the point?

  He called his XO again. “Amelia, what do you make of Polarstern’s maneuvers?”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on her since she broke orbit and started pursuing,” Amelia replied. “I’d say that she means to overtake us and maybe maneuver aggressively to make us change course. I don’t want to fire on her, but if her movements put the ship in danger—”

  “—we might have to take steps to defend ourselve
s,” Sikander finished. Polarstern’s surprising acceleration troubled him. The Dremish vessel appeared to be unarmed, but he’d heard speculation in various corners that the Imperial Survey Service’s science ships doubled as surveillance platforms and might have hidden capabilities—covert minelaying, for example. Could Polarstern get out in front of us and deploy a pattern of mines in our path? Would the Dremish be willing to damage or destroy the ships they’re transferring to Zerzura to keep us from removing them? It seemed to Sikander that if Dremark wanted to give Marid Pasha an operational navy they wouldn’t want to damage the pasha’s new ships. But, then again, he hadn’t expected the Dremish to reboard their cruisers through torpedo loading hatches. He knew what rules of engagement he intended to observe today, but he’d had time beforehand to think through the risks and consequences of the operation. Marid Pasha and the Dremish commanders and diplomats in Dahar, on the other hand, had clearly been caught off guard by the seizure of the ships. They probably haven’t yet decided what the stakes are and how much they’re willing to risk. That means they could easily stumble into a decision they’d regret—and us, as well.

  “Continue to watch Polarstern, but don’t warn her off or take any aggressive action yet,” he told Amelia. “We’re in open space and she’s free to go where she wants, right up to the moment that she does something to endanger our ships. Be ready for trouble—Naval Intelligence has been saying for years that those Dremish survey ships might have military capabilities. Now, what about Penguen and Marti? What are they up to?”

  “They’re closing and illuminating us with fire-control systems, Captain. They’ve fired a few warning shots, but they haven’t been cheeky enough to fire directly at us yet.” Amelia paused, studying her own tactical display aboard Decisive. “It looks like they’re coordinating their movements with Polarstern. I think the arrival of the Dremish ship has stiffened their resolve.”

  Sikander nodded. “Very well. If Penguen or Marti close within two thousand kilometers, warn them once, then fire to disable if they don’t immediately change course.”

  “Final warning followed by engagement at two thousand kilometers, understood.” Amelia paused, then added, “That’s pretty generous, Captain.”

  “I want to give them as much time as I can to make the smart choice.” Sikander returned to the tactical display and zoomed out, looking for any other impediments in their path—it would be all too easy to get caught up in looking over their shoulders without noticing other threats getting into position ahead of them. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be in their way. No Zerzuran warships were in front of them, and their course didn’t come anywhere near any of the stations, planets, or moons in the outer system where a clever commander might attempt to prepare an ambush. At least we’re not about to run into trouble, he decided. The question is whether trouble’s going to chase us down.

  For the next fifty minutes, he watched the distance between his prize flotilla and the pursuing ships narrow, wondering about the next move in the deadly game taking shape. His cruisers steadied their bows on the distant point of light that was Meliya’s sun and steadily built up their speed, increasing their velocity by a little more than two kilometers per second every three seconds. Decisive fell back slightly, interposing herself between the cruisers and the Dremish and Zerzurans following them. Sikander didn’t care for the idea of his XO maneuvering to keep the destroyer in the most exposed position, but he refrained from ordering Amelia to make Decisive’s safety her priority—he didn’t want to second-guess her, and she knew perfectly well that none of the cruisers were capable of returning fire if the Zerzurans chose to attack.

  When Polarstern and her Zerzuran allies drew within ten thousand kilometers of Sikander’s flotilla, Comm Tech Jackson looked up from his position at the communications station. “Captain, Polarstern is signaling our formation. I, er, don’t know how to forward it over to the tactical station with this set-up, but I’ve got her over here.”

  “Thank you, Jackson.” Sikander crossed the bridge to stand behind Jackson’s battle couch. He found himself looking at the image of a woman in a Dremish naval uniform. She had a prominent gray streak in the dark hair above her sharp-featured face, and her mouth was fixed in an angry scowl. “CSS Decisive, this is Fregattenkapitan Valentina Fischer of His Imperial Majesty’s Survey Service vessel Polarstern,” she began. “You have no legal justification for removing those Zerzuran ships from this system. You are flagrantly violating Zerzuran sovereignty and flouting the norms of international relations, and I will not permit this to continue a minute longer. I order you to surrender Drachen, Meduse, and Zyklop immediately.”

  “Shall I respond to that, Captain?” Amelia Fraser asked via their private channel.

  “No, I’ve got it,” Sikander told her. He nodded to Petty Officer Jackson. “Give me a channel, please.”

  “You’re on, sir,” the comm tech replied.

  “Captain Fischer, this is Commander Sikander Singh North of the Aquilan Commonwealth. I am in command of this force. As my executive officer explained to Captain Beck of Neu Kiel, these ships are prizes confiscated under the antipiracy provisions of the Interstellar Convention on the Law of Open Space. If you don’t agree with that determination you’re welcome to file your protests with the admiralty court, but until a court orders us to return these ships to the Zerzuran government they’ll be interned in a neutral system.”

  “What acts of piracy have those ships participated in?” Fischer demanded. “You’re stealing those ships, Commander, and in my view you’re committing an act of war. You have one opportunity to cease hostilities and reconsider your actions before I put an end to this outrageous provocation. Cut your acceleration to zero and stand by to receive boarding parties—we are taking those cruisers back.”

  “Drachen, Meduse, and Zyklop are not yours to take back, Captain Fischer. And we are not ‘stealing’ them—our prize crews are sailing to the nearest neutral system to surrender these ships for adjudication. That system happens to be Meliya in the Velaran Electorate, which you may have already guessed from our transit acceleration course. There is no ‘act of war’ here.”

  “No act of war? You have dozens of dead Dremish sailors aboard those ships, and no doubt others whom I assume are now being held prisoner!”

  Sikander met Fischer’s gaze without flinching. “We took control of these ships using nonlethal settings on our weapons, Captain. Neu Kiel’s sailors weren’t so careful when they attempted to seize them back. Your sailors initiated the use of deadly force, not ours.”

  Fregattenkapitan Fischer’s glower should have melted the comm console. “This is your last warning, Commander North: Return those cruisers, or face the consequences.”

  “I am engaged in a lawful action against vessels under the flag of a government associated with piracy, Captain. Your objections are noted, but I am continuing on my course. North, out.”

  Meduse’s bridge fell silent for a moment; Birk, Tolbin, and Jackson exchanged wide-eyed looks, but none of the enlisted personnel ventured to speak. On the command circuit, Amelia Fraser let out an audible sigh. “I don’t think she’s going to like that answer, Captain,” she said.

  “To be clear, Captain Fischer isn’t entirely wrong,” Amar Shah pointed out. “We’re basing this action on a highly creative reading of the ICLOS piracy definition. An admiralty court could very easily rule against us.”

  “Not for a long time, Mr. Shah,” Sikander said. The lawyers and the diplomats would spend months and months arguing over the fate of the impounded cruisers—time during which evidence of Marid Pasha’s corruption would reach Terra, and the Caliphate might finally be prodded into doing something about the situation in Zerzura. “In fact, I’ll settle for—”

  “Captain! Polarstern is illuminating Decisive with fire-control radar!” Petty Officer Tolbin called to Sikander. At the same time, he heard shouts of consternation and alarms wailing on Decisive’s bridge behind Amelia Fraser and more alarms from the o
ther two prize ships.

  Sikander swore and moved over to the tactical console. The Dremish survey ship put on another ten g of acceleration and surged ahead, while Marti and Penguen followed her in and opened fire with their light K-cannons. “Damn it!” he snarled at the tactical display. “What sort of weapons systems does she have?”

  “I’m looking, sir. That’s a Teller-D fire-control radar, so it’s probably a medium-weight kinetic cannon.” As an electronics tech, Petty Officer Tolbin specialized in fire-control and sensor systems; he fumbled with Meduse’s unfamiliar console, and managed to train a high-power vidcam on the Dremish ship. “Got it, sir. She’s got a false side concealing casemate-mounted K-cannons, just forward of her hangar bays.”

  An auxiliary cruiser, Sikander realized. She’s designed to pass as a research vessel and slip into enemy space without raising suspicions, then turn commerce raider if Dremark decides to start a war. She’ll have at least a couple of point-defense lasers to go along with that hidden broadside, a torpedo tube or two, and maybe even that minelaying capability the Naval Intelligence Office suspects. He grimaced as he considered what Polarstern’s size and speed meant for this confrontation; it was entirely possible that she outgunned Decisive. And with the two Zerzuran gunboats, Decisive is outnumbered as well.

  “EM blooms! She’s firing, sir!” Tolbin reported.

  “Decisive, evasive maneuvers! You’re under attack!” Sikander shouted. His warning was pointless—Decisive’s tactical systems would be shrieking with attack-detection alarms, and Amelia Fraser could certainly understand their meaning—but he couldn’t help himself. He gripped the display, helplessly watching the Dremish attack develop. I should be on Decisive’s bridge! he railed at himself. On Meduse he was only a spectator—he’d sidelined himself for the most serious fight Decisive was likely to face in his tour of duty.