by Jay Allan
He could feel the g-forces pressing into him, overwhelming the ability of his dampeners to offset the pressure and slamming into his body with what had to be the equivalent of 12g. That was better than the bone shattering 50-plus his engines were firing at, but it was still a hard battering. He struggled to suck air into his tortured lungs, and he gripped the controls so tightly, his hand went numb.
He held the desperate thrust level until the view of open space told him he’d cleared the enemy vessel. He cut back on the engine power almost immediately, enough to bring the dampeners back to full effectiveness, and he sucked in a deep breath, holding it for perhaps ten seconds before he exhaled and turned his eyes toward the scanner display.
He’d scored a hit.
He’d known that already, or at least, he’d been confident. He’d long struggled to control his cockiness, the overwhelming sense of self-assurance that formed a large part of his ability as a pilot. The great Jake Stockton did miss targets, of course…often in fact, but on some level that defied logic and reason, he believed when it was important enough, he could will a shot to hit.
It had been a solid shot, right where he’d wanted it…but there was nothing but guesswork and frustration to satiate his need to know how much damage he had caused. The enemy vessel was just too large, its power generation too staggeringly immense, its deadly guns too numerous, to accurately assess the impact of a single torpedo hit.
He wouldn’t even know if the enemy’s railguns had been knocked out until the giant enemy ship moved into range…and did or did not open up with the grievous weapons on the waiting Confederation line.
Still, as he watched, four more of his fighters swooped in, following his lead almost exactly. One missed, and one was blasted to atoms an instant before launching—but the other two planted direct hits, not far from his own. Another dozen ships were lined up behind, bearing down, enduring the firestorm of defensive fire to close to the same knife-fighting range Stockton had.
One by one, they came in, following the example he’d set. Torpedo after torpedo launched…and slammed hard into the giant ship’s hull, sending geysers of molten and flash frozen metal into the depths of space.
He smiled, the icy gaze of a predator. Despite the horrors the war promised to deliver, the nightmares and death that would be visited upon so many millions, the vast near invincibility of the enemy…he was where he belonged.
Where he’d been born to be.
Chapter Eight
ITN Headquarters
Troyus City, Planet Megara, Olyus III
Year 317 AC
“Admiral Whitten left you in charge, Commodore…and he is relying on you to carry out his instructions to the letter.” Desiree Marieles was in one of ITN’s large conference rooms, staring at the naval officer standing no more than two meters from her with a look of doubt on his face. She’d invited the commodore to sit, but the man had so far remained where he was, adding to the discomfort level of the meeting.
Jacen Tomlinson had been a logical choice for Whitten to leave in command in his absence. The commodore was in charge of what remained of Megara’s naval garrison after Whitten had stripped almost everything mobile to take to the Far Rim and deal with Tyler Barron once and for all. Tomlinson’s was a longstanding naval family, not unlike the Barrons and the Whittens, though a step lower in prominence. The Tomlinsons had long been loyal to the Whittens, in fact, and the two families had been bonded over the years by several marriages, along with almost a century of common cooperation in naval affairs.
Marieles knew Torrance Whitten lacked some of the leadership qualities and charisma his father and grandfather had possessed, but, all things considered, at the time she’d thought he’d made a good decision in this case. It made sense to trust to a tradition of family loyalty, even if it had meant overlooking half a dozen higher-ranked officers.
Still, as she watched Tomlinson’s facial expressions, the tension in his stance that he was making at best a half-hearted attempt to hide, she had her doubts. Could he be trusted? Getting rid of him would be simple enough, of course, especially with Ricard Lille available to do the job. The assassin didn’t much like her, but he was dedicated to seeing their mission succeed…and he might consider a Confederation flag officer a worthy target to add to his sick little roster. Marieles had killed many times—when the mission required it, when someone threatened her, even when it was expedient. But Ricard Lille enjoyed it.
It wasn’t that simple, though. She might be able to get rid of Tomlinson, but she had no way to control who was named as his replacement. She’d paid off a few officers as part of her plan, and she’d blackmailed some others, but with Whitten finally off Megara and chasing after Barron, she didn’t have meaningful influence on the admiralty’s future choices in command personnel.
“Yes, he did…and I am compelled to carry out his orders. What I do not understand, speaking bluntly, is your place in all of this, or why he instructed me to keep you apprised of developments.” The officer paused, and when he continued, he’d cut back the attitude in his voice, just a bit. “I mean no offense to you, and I respect your role in uncovering the conspiracies that so threatened the navy…but you must admit, it is highly irregular for you to be involved in such matters. You are a civilian with no government office at all, and no security clearance of which I’m aware.”
Marieles suppressed the angry response that almost burst out. Whitten was a damned fool. He should have left a trusted aide with instructions to keep her advised of developments, a lower level officer who wouldn’t draw attention to himself…not told the man he was leaving in charge of Megara to run everything by her.
She’d exceeded her expectations on the whole plan, taken things far beyond what she’d initially expected to achieve…but the last thing she needed was unwanted attention on her and her role in all that had happened.
“Commodore, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Admiral Whitten has confided in me, that’s true, and he has asked my counsel on how to handle public announcements and the release of information about the investigations. I’m afraid I am of little help on military matters, though Admiral Whitten may have, from time to time, leaned on our friendship and bounced his thoughts off of me. If I served any purpose in such discussions, it was as a…sounding board…a body to sit there while Admiral Whitten worked through his thoughts.” It wasn’t a great explanation, but with luck, it would do. She didn’t relish sending Tomlinson away and losing her only solid link to events in the admiralty, but she just couldn’t take the chance of stoking the officer’s obvious suspicion.
“I don’t know what kind of misunderstanding it could have been. The admiral was very clear that I was to keep you advised, and, as I said, I am prepared to follow that order…as soon as I know the reason behind it.”
That damned fool…
Marieles wasn’t sure what to say next. She felt cornered, and it was clear Tomlinson was suspicious. Maybe she would have to get Lille involved after all…
“Commodore, perhaps Admiral Whitten was simply preoccupied with the mission he was about to undertake. Likely, he intended to suggest that you may find my insight useful, a perspective I find flattering, if unjustified. All I can say is, fulfill your duties as you see fit, as I’m sure Admiral Whitten expects you will. I am, of course, willing to help you any way I can if you feel that is necessary, but I consider it unlikely I have much to offer.”
The naval officer stared at her for a few more seconds. Then he said, simply, “Very well.” He turned and added, “Good day to you then,” and he walked out of the room. Marieles watched, a frown slipping onto her face once she was sure Tomlinson was gone. She’d tried her best to shake the officer’s suspicions, but it was clear she hadn’t managed it. With luck, Tomlinson would just think she’d seduced Whitten, that he’d tried to impress his paramour with classified information and pretended to take her opinions seriously. Otherwise…
She shook her head. It was too much of a ris
k. If Tomlinson dug too deeply…her cover was well-constructed, but it wasn’t invincible, certainly not to someone poking around seriously enough. And if the commodore got the slightest hint that she was from Sector Nine, that the whole thing had been a foreign plot to destabilize the Confederation…
She reached down and grabbed her private comm unit, dialing in a code she’d stored only in her memory. “Ricard, this is Desiree. We may have a problem…one that requires your special skills.”
* * *
“Are you sure this thing works?” There weren’t many people Andi trusted more than Gary Holsten, at least in terms of resources and abilities, but this latest combination of technological wizardry and spycraft seemed a little like conjuring something out of thin air.
“Absolutely. Do you think this is the first time I’ve had to land a ship under a false identity?”
Andi just shook her head. She didn’t doubt Holsten’s ability, or the effectiveness of his gadgets. But they were approaching the Confederation’s capital, not playing around with some frontier planet yokels. The artificial beacon replaced Pegasus’s own, and it transmitted a false identity. Andi had cut Pegasus’s beacon more than once when she didn’t want to be identified, and while technically a criminal offense, it was one that had served its purpose out along the frontier. But Megara was another matter entirely, and the capital’s defenses and screening systems were far tighter than those of a world like Dannith. Transiting into the system with her beacon off would have guaranteed an immediate interception. Her ship was almost certainly on a watchlist, so there really hadn’t been much choice except to trust Holsten’s black box.
“This isn’t a problem, Andi. It would take someone high up in Confederation Intelligence to detect the deception…and I can guarantee whatever stooge the Senate appointed to replace me hasn’t been able to find his way to the bathroom yet, much less feel his way around my red files.”
“What if they appointed one of your old associates?” The question slipped out, but Andi knew the answer before Holsten answered. “There must be a few of your old deputies who know their way around.”
“They won’t have…and if they did, then half our work is done. My people are loyal to me, Andi.” There was dead certainty in his tone.
Andi had a hint of doubt herself, but then she tried to imagine Vig or any of her people in the same situation, how they would react…and Holsten had run Confederation Intelligence for a long time.
The thought reminded her of her crew, her friends, who came back to Dannith to be at her side when they heard she was in trouble.
The friends she’d left behind on Archellia, with nothing but the vaguest of goodbye messages.
Vig…he must be losing his mind by now…
She’d managed to sneak away without her people catching on to her plans. She felt guilty about it, but she just couldn’t involve them in what she had to do. She’d managed to avoid thinking too much about her own poor chances of escape…but she wasn’t about to put her people in the crossfire she was likely to find all around her. No matter how much she knew what she’d done would hurt them.
If I get back, I’ll make it good to them. And, if I don’t, well…they’ll all go back to the lives their success in our adventures won for them…and they’ll forget about me. Eventually.
“So far so good.” Pegasus was well into the system, and there had been no challenges yet. Ship beacons were incredibly sophisticated devices, and almost impossible to counterfeit. “Almost” being the key word in this case. She couldn’t help but imagine what she could have done with the device in her outlaw days. “This beacon is a handy little device, but we’re going to need manifests or something else for docking command…unless you want me to make a run past the inner defenses and try to land somewhere on-planet.” That was more Andi’s style, and she relished the idea of giving a symbolic obscene gesture to the bureaucrats and government types in customs command…but, again, this was Megara, and she had a realistic notion of her chances of sneaking through. They weren’t good.
“That won’t be necessary. I have everything we’ll need.”
Andi just nodded, wondering for a moment how Holsten had managed to gather together the resources he had, when they’d broken him from the prison convoy with nothing more than his bright yellow jumpsuit. Even the vast Holsten family holdings had all been frozen by the government…though he would have had hidden assets, just as she herself did.
“What do you want me to do? Just blast in-system until we get challenged?”
“Yes.” It was a simpler answer than she’d expected, and with anyone else she’d probably have bailed right then and there, made a run for the transit point or gone dark and hoped to evade detection. But no one she’d ever known was as adept at working his way around the Confederation’s security protocols and other systems as Gary Holsten.
We could have used him on Pegasus back in the day…
She just sat at the controls, resisting the urge to turn and look at her companion, to try to gauge whether he was really as confident as he sounded. She decided, if there was doubt in his eyes, she didn’t need to see it. She was committed, whatever the risk, and there was no point in worrying about things she couldn’t control. She had to get Holsten on the ground…and she had her own work to do once they got there.
“Trader Halcyon, this is Megara control. You are not on our arrival schedule. What is your purpose in approaching Megara?”
Andi felt her throat close up. They might believe Pegasus was some ship called Halcyon, but if the landing authorities weren’t expecting her, it was all for naught. Holsten might manage a counterfeit beacon, but if Pegasus was boarded for inspection…
“Megara control, this is Captain James Griswold of Halcyon. Please be advised we are under contract to the Confederation Health Agency lab on Highland. We are carrying a sample of an unidentified crop infestation for review by the main laboratory. I have an authorization from Governor Swanson, along with a request that this matter be handled at secrecy level two. Your supervisor should have access to a classified flash notice of our arrival.” Holsten paused, just for a second. “The blight is a threat to the planet-wide crop, and a full disclosure at this time would threaten the entire planetary economy.”
Andi could hear the voice in her headset, the same one she knew was being transmitted to the patrol ship that had queried Pegasus. But it wasn’t Holsten speaking. For an instant, she wasn’t sure what was happening. Then she realized.
Another black box from Holsten’s bag of tricks…
She turned around, and saw her comrade standing behind her, a broad smile on his face.
“A useful toy, wouldn’t you say? Can’t risk using my own voice. Megara’s got layers of AI-supervised protocols, and there are too many records of my voice pattern.” He hesitated for an instant and added, “It should get us through, Andi. Probably.”
She didn’t especially like the last word he’d added, but she was too confused to focus on it. “How?”
“It’s a custom AI I put together. I was able to pull the programming off the Confederation Intel section of the Archellia fleetnet. It should serve.” He looked at her for a few seconds, and then continued, clearly reacting to the dumbfounded look on her face. “It’s one of Confederation Intelligence’s toys…the officer who queried us is seeing an image of “Captain Griswold,” and the voice will match the snippets of “Griswold” in the data banks. Our friend, the captain, is, as far as any investigation will reveal, a patriot and a straight shooter, though he is also somewhat behind on his debt service, and is in danger of losing his ship. An emergency run for the health authorities is a high-paying gig, which makes everything fit together nicely, don’t you think?”
“They’ll find all of that on the net?” She almost asked how, but then she realized how many false identities and covers Confederation Intelligence likely had.
“In the central database on Megara, at least. A cursory review will also show that the captain
has two children, and an estranged wife. He has a military record as well, though an utterly unspectacular one. He mustered out with a moderately serious wound late in the war and used his bonus to put a down payment on Halcyon.”
“That’s amazing.” Something like that would have been damned useful back in my…wilder…days.
Andi had sported a few false identities in her day, but nothing so elaborately contrived as “Captain Griswold.”
“Basic tradecraft, really. The problem is, there’s no backup on the ground. If they actually contact Highland for confirmation, we’re busted. But with a planet that distant, we’ve got ten days before even a Priority One message could get through. Nine chances in ten this customs officer just lets us through and forgets about it.”
Andi stared at Holsten for a moment, thinking she would have preferred if he’d said ninety-nine times out of a hundred instead of nine out of ten. A ten percent chance of ending up trying to make a run yet again from the Megara home forces didn’t sit well with her…both in terms of the chance of escape, and also the delay in getting her down to the planet. To the business she had waiting there.
The comm crackled back to life. “Halcyon, you are cleared for immediate approach to orbital station twelve. Welcome back to Megara.”
She grinned and looked back at her companion. “Nicely done.” It was all she could think to say.
“Thank you.” He paused. “Just one more thing before we complete our approach. Pegasus has direct laser communication capability, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” Andi’s response was slow, muted. She trusted Holsten, but she’d spent what seemed like a lifetime trying to keep her ship’s capabilities secret, and old habits died hard.