Outriders

by Ian Blackport

  “Elevated I’m sure, since I don’t enjoy having my ship commandeered.”

  “You should be thankful we’re conducting business in this manner,” claimed Harun. “My superiors wanted us to arrest your entire crew and choose our own agents for the task. But for authenticity’s sake I decided to use genuine felons for our mission. You’ll escort Specialist Dirksen and myself beyond this system until we’ve completed the assignment to our satisfaction.”

  Taylor nudged his head at the motionless commandos. “Not the goon squad?”

  “They’ll remain on the planet as shock troops should Delbaeth land ground forces. Once our mission is finished, you’ll return us here and be allowed to leave.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you’ll slap a shiny commendation in our hands and release us with a pat on the back?”

  “As you said, Captain, this is a smuggling crew. We have far more pressing concerns. Unless you have plans to bring a bomb planetside, you’re beneath my notice.”

  Seated on the floor with his fellow crewmates, Connor Rosenbaum lifted one hand. Taylor wanted to silence their pilot with a sharp glower, since until now his crew had the good sense to remain quiet and leave matters of negotiation to him. Unfortunately Connor chose to speak before noticing Taylor’s disapproval.

  “I have a question,” he uttered.

  “By all means,” responded Harun.

  “Why come to us? Don’t you have specially modified starships for covert operations like these?”

  “The Delbaeth Commonwealth’s invasion caught us unprepared. Our most reliable intelligence suggested the possibility of war no less than a year from now. Several of our naval fleets are deployed in bordering systems on anti-piracy operations, training exercises or undergoing repairs. Every military ship on Elatha may be called upon for frontline defense. We need a civilian vessel, one that has survived brushes against naval ships and is operated by a crew intimate with the less reputable elements of the galaxy. One that also happened to be currently docked in Formorii. The choices available to us were limited, and your freighter happened to be at the top of that list.”

  “Is this the ideal time for a clandestine mission elsewhere?” inquired Alexis. “Shouldn’t you be decrypting enemy communications, causing havoc with their ships, landing agents on Delbaeth to blow up facilities? Isn’t that what spies do during wars?”

  “Others will fulfill that role. Our mission is just as vital to the war effort, and may even prove more crucial if our sources are accurate.”

  “We’re wasting our breath,” Tessa hissed. “And we don’t have the time for a Q&A session. If the delinquents won’t cooperate, I’ll expedite their incentive. We’re giving you the chance to leave Elatha, which as you’ve noticed isn’t the safest place at the moment. If you refuse, your beloved Solar Flare will be locked down and our technicians will transmit a poorly coded message detailing it as a valued intelligence asset. Delbaeth bombers will target this freighter during their initial assault, assuming their Cormoran-class dreadnoughts haven’t already destroyed it from orbit.”

  “You’d sacrifice an entire spaceport to coerce us into serving?” asked Taylor.

  “Make no mistake, smuggler. I’d sacrifice every spaceport, along with each foreign starship and trader on the planet if my decision brought us closer to ending the invasion. Disparage my methods, but never question my resolve.”

  He sucked his teeth and stifled a retort, feeling the noose tighten round his throat. Even if Tessa chose not to honor her threat, the Solar Flare would be perilously vulnerable by remaining in port. “What star system are you traveling to?”

  “Classified,” Harun answered. “You’ll be given coordinates once we’ve escaped Tuatha.”

  “And the mission itself?”

  “Information gathering. More details will be provided if I decide you need to know.”

  “You’re asking me to risk my ship and the safety of my crew, but don’t trust us enough to even tell me why?”

  Harun appeared unperturbed by the criticism and brushed the thought aside with a shrug. “Those are the terms.”

  “Terms,” snorted Taylor. “Gives the impression this was a fair negotiation. Ultimatum is a more apt word, to my mind.”

  “Use whatever word you want. Semantics disinterest me.”

  “And if I’m keen to—”

  Tessa’s AugIris illuminated and her focus shifted like a wary predator sniffing distant threats. “Three squadrons of Delbaethi interceptors have broken through our defensive line and are converging on the capital. Anticipated arrival is two minutes.”

  As if to punctuate her words, Taylor heard muffled discharges from the spaceport’s anti-aircraft cannons.

  Harun raised a brow toward Taylor. “What’ll it be?”

  Taylor failed to imagine a decision that did not place his faithful crew in jeopardy and hated the burden he now shouldered. And yet he had only one choice that might save their lives. “Evan, prep engines for immediate departure at full burn. Kyla, bring weapons systems online with all safeties and discretions disabled while Reyes handles the Hedgehog. Rinko and Alexis, punch a goddamn hole through the jamming and give us at least limited local communications. We might need to send transmissions to trigger-happy Elathan gunners.”

  Tessa signaled to her soldiers with deft precision. “Specialist Team Eight, disengage and return to SIS substation Everest. Extraction code word: Infinite.”

  Faceless operatives disengaged the targeting software on their assault rifles and retreated from the cargo hold. Taylor’s crew scrambled upright and sprinted for their stations as Taylor keyed a command to close the loading ramp and seal the cargo hold airlock.

  Harun smiled, an expression both cunning and insincere. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain MacDowell.”

  Chapter 3

  Clara released the control stick and powered down active components, shutting off her Marauder one system at a time. Shadows crept across the canyon floor as an orange luminance faded from the dry chasm. The sun was setting across Orna and soon enough this gorge would be engulfed in night.

  “Run dark,” she instructed. “Anything that I can afford to lose or won’t kill me goes offline.”

  Words appeared on her console from the ship computer, a virtual intelligence she had nicknamed Chirpy due to its tendency to squeak when trying to gain her attention.

  ALL BUT NONCRITICAL SYSTEMS ARE SHUT DOWN.

  “Prime the emergency core vent and discharge all heat on my signal.”

  INSTANTANEOUS CORE VENT MAY CAUSE DAMAGE TO ONE OR MORE EXPULSION SHROUDS CONNECTED TO THE FUSION PROPULSION CORE. REGULATIONS RECOMMEND VENTING AT A CONTROLLED PACE.

  “I don’t care,” Clara snapped. “Just do it. Whoever those starfighters are, they might come around searching for me. I need this ship to be cold, dark and quiet.”

  I AM OBLIGATED TO WARN YOU AGAINST THIS COURSE OF ACTION.

  Ambient lights faded to darkness as Clara switched systems offline, her hands a blur over the console and panels. “Now.”

  SEQUENCE IS READY TO BEGIN.

  “Vent.”

  A warning light ignited on a schematic housed on her leftmost sensor screen, indicating critical temperatures were being reached during the procedure. Clara held her breath, begging the starfighter to hold together and eject all accumulated heat without tearing itself apart. She stabbed one panel when a shrill wail filled the cockpit and the sound died to a strangled whimper. Angry indicator lights flared to life in response.

  “Deactivate all auxiliary alarms and automated safety features. I don’t want this ship doing anything without my say-so.”

  The cockpit darkened as persistent and intrusive lights died. A muted glow tinged green and displaying messages from Chirpy remained the only glimmer. Clara toggled the heads-up display on her AugIris, simulating daylight conditions and receiving Chirpy’s messages through her vision.

  “Are we in the clear?”

  I AM UNCERT
AIN. I DETECT CORE EMISSIONS AND QUERYING SIGNALS FROM AIRBORNE STARFIGHTERS. BUT SO FAR NONE HAVE FOUND US.

  “What’s our heat level?”

  DROPPING RAPIDLY. I ESTIMATE SIX MINUTES UNTIL OUR SIGNATURE IS TOO COLD FOR SEARCHING VESSELS TO DETECT. THE EXTERNAL LUNAR TEMPERATURE IN THIS CANYON IS THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN DEGREES KELVIN, WHICH WILL MASK OUR EMISSIONS AND DECREASE THE LIKELIHOOD OF DISCOVERY. WE ARE FORTUNATE YOU DID NOT GO TO GROUND ON THE NIGHT SIDE.

  A conversion scale appeared beneath Chirpy’s words for the numbers:

  EIGHTY-FOUR CELSIUS / ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-THREE FAHRENHEIT.

  She had never found mentally converting from the Kelvin scale, the temperature preference for shipboard computers, into other measurements to be taxing, yet felt exhausted enough to be thankful for once.

  “And that this airless moon doesn’t have an atmosphere to moderate the temperature.”

  Clara exhaled a sputtering breath and leaned backward in her chair, staring through the glass canopy overhead. Hostile starfighters were out there, though whether they would assume she crashed in the explosion or choose to conduct an elaborate search remained to be seen. She needed to survive six minutes buried in this rugged canyon. Even a small moon like Orna offered a daunting number of places to hide and made searching difficult. Hopefully that worked in her favor.

  “Initialize diagnostics,” she instructed. “I have to know how bad my situation is.”

  DO YOU INTEND TO FLY AGAIN IN THE IMMEDIATE FUTURE?

  “Only if they leave us no choice. And if we even can.”

  SYSTEMS APPEAR OPERATIONAL ENOUGH FOR LIMITED FLIGHT FUNCTIONALITY, THOUGH ANOMALIES AND INSTABILITIES ARE LIKELY TO OCCUR. I WILL NOT KNOW THE PROBABILITIES WITHOUT AN UNACCEPTABLE MARGIN FOR ERROR UNTIL DIAGNOSTICS FINISHES.

  “While you’re at it, access InCore and uncover every detail you can about those unknown ships. Any planets, governments or organizations known or suspected of developing a new class of fighter, particularly if they happen to favor the black and gold color scheme.”

  CONNECTING TO THE INTERPLANETARY NETWORKING COMMUNICATIONS AND RESOURCES WILL BE DIFFICULT WITHIN THE TETHRA SYSTEM. THE NETWORK IS FOCUSED PRIMARILY IN HEAVILY TRAFFICKED AREAS TO GUARANTEE SIGNAL STRENGTH. ROLLING BLACKOUTS ARE COMMONPLACE ON LESS FREQUENTED ROUTES, AND THE SERVER IS ALMOST NONEXISTENT WHERE THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH INHABITANTS TO MAKE IT WORTHWHILE.

  “Yeah, I know. But our listening installation on Erimon piggybacks on a devoted subsidiary node stationed at the edge of this system in order to send transmissions.”

  THAT NODE IS LOCATED IN GEOSYNCHRONOUS ORBIT AROUND ETHNIU, THE NINTH PLANET OF THIS STAR SYSTEM.

  “Right. So can you make the connection work both ways? If the listening post here can link with the node to boost its signal, can you do the same in order to stabilize your connection to InCore, as if it was an FTL comm relay?”

  THAT IS A POSSIBILITY.

  “Make it happen. Review our ship’s logs and data caches as well. We should be able to compile a best guess estimate on what those starfighters are capable of based on how they performed during combat. Speed, maneuverability, targeting specifications and such. And while you’re at it, I want to know what the hell happened with my inducing actuator. I’m trapped here without faster-than-light travel.”

  PRIORITY?

  “Ship diagnostics. I want every scrap of information and hearsay you can find on those starfighters, but it won’t do me any good if I can’t escape this godforsaken system.”

  IF THE INDUCING ACTUATOR IS BEYOND REPAIR THE NEAREST SYSTEM IS THREE POINT TWO FOUR LIGHT-YEARS FROM US. AT REALSPACE VELOCITY SUCH A JOURNEY WILL REQUIRE SIXTY-FOUR YEARS.

  “Holy shit, Chirpy. You don’t need to tell me that crap ever again.”

  IT WAS MEANT IN JEST. I HAD HOPED TO CHEER YOUR SPIRITS.

  Clara sighed and disengaged the sealed clamps connecting her helmet to the flight suit she wore. She tugged the helmet off and ran one hand through sweaty, tangled hair matted to her scalp. “I’m afraid you can’t this time. But thanks for trying.”

  I WISH TO HELP.

  “Help me find a way home.” Clara unbuckled her restraints and shoved the straps aside, propping her chin on one hand. “There isn’t much more you can do. The rest is up to me.”

  *

  A nagging chirp startled Clara and ended her fitful attempt at sleep. She had been unable to drift off and welcomed the interruption truthfully. The faces of eleven friends and allies waited whenever she closed her eyes. Clara rubbed her face with one knuckle and glimpsed words scrawling through her ocular implant.

  DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE.

  She shoved with one elbow and straightened her back. “What’s the verdict?”

  PROPULSION CORE EFFICIENCY HAS BEEN REDUCED TO SEVENTY-SIX PERCENT. STARBOARD WEAPONS SYSTEMS HAVE GONE OFFLINE IN RESPONSE TO A VOLATILITY IN THE CANNON MOUNT. THE ENCRYPT/DECRYPT SOFTWARE IS MALFUNCTIONING AND HAS A THREE PERCENT PROBABILITY OF OPERATING PROPERLY.

  “I can work around all those issues. What about the inducing actuator?”

  THERE ARE HAIRLINE FRACTURES IN THE THERMAL BARRIER COATING ON THE MAIN PROPULSION FEED LINE. IT WILL NOT HAMPER PERFORMANCE AT REALSPACE VELOCITIES THOUGH THE DAMAGE WILL BECOME CATASTROPHIC DURING FASTER-THAN-LIGHT ACCELERATION. THE INDUCING ACTUATOR HAS SHUT ITSELF DOWN TO PREVENT SUCH AN OCCURRENCE. I CANNOT OVERRIDE THIS SAFETY FEATURE.

  “Son of a bitch. Can we cobble together a patchwork fix? Something that would help us limp home to Tuatha?”

  NO. THE THERMAL BARRIER COATING MUST BE REPLACED ENTIRELY. NO IMPROVISED SOLUTION BASED ON THE MATERIALS ONBOARD CAN ENDURE THE STRAIN.

  “Damn.”

  WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO DO?

  “We only have one real option, the way I see it. I’ll broadcast a distress signal and hope to God someone friendly hears my plea.”

  ANY INTERSTELLAR TRANSMISSION WILL BE DETECTED BY THE UNKNOWN HOSTILES IN THIS SYSTEM. THEY WILL KNOW YOU SURVIVED.

  “Only if we broadcast a standard beacon. We’ll rig a short-range distress to fire tightbeam transmissions at random intervals on a straight path rather than a continuous transmission in all directions. Is the disruption-tolerant network functioning?”

  YES.

  “Then we’ll aim for Elatha and our shipyards in the Cethlenn system and transmit periodically, taking into account any planetary or stellar conjunctions. With luck something will get through.”

  A DISTRESS OF THIS NATURE MAY NOT BE STRONG ENOUGH FOR DETECTION IF IT IS NOT ON A CONSTANT LOOP. THAT IS WHY EMERGENCY BEACONS FUNCTION IN SUCH A MANNER.

  “Good point. Can you shunt power from our noncritical systems to boost the signal? Take from everything other than life support.”

  I CAN. THAT SHOULD INCREASE YOUR LIKELIHOOD OF SUCCESS.

  “Then all I can do now is hope for the best.”

  WHAT IS THE MESSAGE YOU WISH TO RECORD? A LONGER MESSAGE IS MORE LIKELY TO BE DETECTED BY BOTH YOUR ALLIES AND ADVERSARIES.

  “What a miserable conundrum. I’ll need to risk a somewhat wordy message, or we’re both going to die out here alone.”

  I DO NOT WISH TO CEASE FUNCTIONING.

  “Me neither, Chirpy. Which means I’m gambling with a detailed transmission.”

  I AM READY WHEN YOU WISH TO RECORD.

  “Start recording when I say begin and terminate at mark. Begin.” Clara cleared her throat and inhaled a calming breath. “This is Flight Lieutenant Clara Aylett of the Elathan Combined Starfleet Commission. I am the sole survivor of Corsair Squadron after an engagement with unidentified hostiles in the Tethra system. They have disabled the navy’s listening installation on Erimon for unknown reasons. My ship’s inducing actuator is damaged and I’m unable to enter faster-than-light travel. The aggressors remain within this system and might intercept this communication, so I cannot give you my current location. If any rescue vessel arrives, please broadcast on an open channel, because my encrypt/decrypt software isn’t functioning. I’ll transmit my
location at that point, once I have assurances of who you are. Please hurry.” She paused and licked her lips, feeling a chill settle throughout the cockpit. “Mark.”

  I WILL COMMENCE SENDING YOUR MESSAGE AT RANDOM INTERVALS.

  “Thank you.” Clara exhaled and glimpsed pale vapor. “Did you shut down the heating system to increase the transmission’s range?”

  I DID. SHOULD I NOT HAVE?

  “No, it’s okay. My flight suit’s insulation should keep me warm enough for now, even as the surface temperature plummets overnight. We’ll just need to hope rescue arrives soon.”

  DID YOU ALSO WISH ME TO KEEP YOUR OXYGEN SUPPLY FUNCTIONAL?

  “No jokes. Please. I’m not in the mood.”

  I AM SORRY. BUT DO NOT LOSE HOPE LIEUTENANT AYLETT. OUR COMRADES WILL COME FOR US.

  “I hope you’re right.” Clara wriggled in her chair until she found a passably comfortable position. “In the meantime, what did you discover about our attackers?”

  I WAS ABLE TO ACCESS INCORE FOR INTERMITTENT PERIODS USING THE COMMUNICATION RELAY ON ETHNIU. THERE WAS NOTHING TO BE FOUND ON THESE STARFIGHTERS. THEY APPEAR TO BE WHOLLY UNIQUE AND UNKNOWN TO EVERY NETWORK I COULD CONNECT TO.

  “Shouldn’t surprise me. They’ve gone to great lengths to maintain secrecy. And what conclusions can you reach based on our flight data?”

  THEIR STARFIGHTERS ARE CONSIDERABLY MODIFIED AND OUTCLASS OUR MARAUDER. THEY ARE BETWEEN TEN AND FIFTEEN PERCENT FASTER, AND MORE MANEUVERABLE BY A FACTOR OF NO LESS THAN POINT FOUR. TO ACHIEVE THIS PERFORMANCE, I SUSPECT THEIR HULL ARMOR IS MINIMAL IN COMPARISON TO OURS AND MORE SUSCEPTIBLE TO DAMAGE. IF IT WERE COMPARABLE THEY COULD NOT REACH SUCH HIGH VELOCITIES, UNLESS CONSTRUCTED FROM A NEW ALLOY.

  “Could they be built from a new alloy?”

  UNKNOWN. THE IMPLICATIONS WOULD BE FASCINATING.

  “More like frightening. Who has the resources to design and manufacture a starfighter like this?”

  THE AUTHORITY OF CONFEDERATE SYSTEMS OR WEALTHY MEMBER PLANETS. CERTAIN INDEPENDENT PLANETS, MOST LIKELY MARDUK, AETHERIA AND THOSE OF THE VALKYRIE OR AEOLUS SYSTEMS. SOME INTERPLANETARY CORPORATIONS ARE KNOWN TO POSSESS THEIR OWN FLEETS. THERE IS ALSO A SMALL PROBABILITY THAT DELBAETH IS RESPONSIBLE.