Outriders

by Ian Blackport

  “I see them,” Clara hissed. She jerked the control yoke to port as distant plasma bursts lightened black space beyond the viewport. “Tell Rosenbaum to strap into a chair elsewhere. We don’t have time for a pilot swap.”

  “The hell we don’t,” Connor said. “Captain, tell her—”

  “Get to lounge with Harun and Tessa,” commanded Taylor. “Save your indignation for later when we aren’t trying to cheat death.”

  Connor muttered his resentment and turned away to join others banished from the bridge.

  “Alexis, do you have our vector calculated?”

  “I’ve primed four short faster-than-light jumps on separate trajectories to discourage pursuit, each one less than a light-year.”

  “Then get us out of this infernal place.”

  “Velocity counterpoise is standing by. Inducing actuator is…wait.” Alexis’ fingers halted above the terminal as a warning light blinked with an angry glare. “That…that doesn’t make any sense. We’re in a gravitational well.”

  Taylor snapped his head around to stare at her. “We aren’t within a billion klicks from any planetoid massive enough to prevent FTL.”

  “That’s what our ship computer claims.”

  “Explain to me how that’s even remotely possible.”

  “I don’t…” Alexis summoned their astronavigational data and sorted through routes traversing Balor and neighboring systems, cross-referencing their location with known star, planet and nebulae charts. One entry listed in the Balor system caught her attention “Oh, those fiendish little imps! The Authority hacked our server and programed the computer to believe we’re in orbit around a fictitious world called Anansi. I can’t override the inducing actuator.”

  “I sure as hell can,” Rinko affirmed.

  “Is that even possible?” asked Clara.

  “It’s the Confederacy Starfleet,” Kyla answered. “They can do anything.”

  “Never thought they could do that.”

  “Neither did I until a moment ago,” Alexis admitted. “Brilliant tactic in hindsight.”

  Sensors bellowed warnings when the pursuing Stilettos peppered the region with plasma blasts. Clara weaved in an erratic, unpredictable pattern, leaving the shots to tear past and dissipate in a glinting sparkle of sapphire.

  Rinko wore a satisfied expression as she battled with the best software engineers and technicians employed by the Authority. “I’m preparing to flood their servers with data while I clear our data cache and reinitialize the astronavigation archives. Lex, remember that recording of talanas we found? You still have it?”

  An innocuous name for a species of tree-climbing mammals native to the planet Izanami, talanas shared similarities to primates and were prone to deafening screeches when agitated. Their shrill bellows were among the loudest noises found in nature on any world yet explored.

  “I can bring it up,” Alexis responded.

  “Good. When I give the signal, broadcast the talanas at full volume on a continuous loop across all spectrums and frequencies. We’ll blast those Confederacy assholes until their eardrums burst.”

  “Done.”

  Bow-mounted cannons on both Nova frigates shelled the Solar Flare from maximum effective range, forcing Clara to divert away even as their freighter shook when Stilettos struck the stern.

  “What are you attacking with?” inquired Clara. “Malware?”

  “In a sense,” Rinko replied. “I’m sending fifteen zettabytes of kitten videos. Enough to scramble their systems for a couple seconds and disconnect from ours. Lex, talanas?”

  “I have them.”

  “Full-spectrum transmission…now.”

  Alexis allowed herself a malicious grin and broadcast the shrieking, earsplitting tree-dwellers at an intensity capable of rupturing eardrums. For their sake, she hoped the Confederacy communications specialists disabled starship transceivers without delay. Otherwise entire crews might require medical attention and have difficulty hearing for days.

  The formation of Stilettos lost cohesion and became divided into solitary and convoluted clumps, their deadly plasma cannons no longer targeting the Solar Flare. Batteries on the Nova frigates fell silent and their freighter shifted its vector without incident, embracing the transitory respite.

  “I’ve purged all records of Anansi from our servers,” Rinko affirmed. “Astronavigational suites are functional and contain our trajectories.”

  Alexis triggered initial procedures for faster-than-light travel and surveyed information on her consoles. “Inducing actuator coming online and waiting for confirmation.”

  “Make the jump,” Taylor commanded. “Before the Authority blindsides us with another new scheme.”

  The Solar Flare hurtled away from realspace into a distorted tunnel ringed by elongated, limitless stars. Alexis was the first to breathe a calming exhalation and unstrap her harness, wiping dried blood from one bitten fingertip. “Damn, Clara. That was intense. You’re cuddly as a desert scythe-tail, but I’d fly with you any day.”

  “I don’t know what that is,” she replied. “Though I can imagine well enough.”

  Taylor unfastened his restraints and stood to stretch his back. “I don’t reckon you’ve earned much in the way of respect from Connor – he’s awfully particular about piloting this freighter – but you definitely merit our thanks. You have some impressive skill, Lieutenant.”

  “Thanks.” Clara vacated the pilot chair and rubbed her wrist, crossing toward stairs leaving the bridge. “I’m heading aft to report to Major al-Ajlani for debriefing.”

  Taylor watched her depart and said, “Cuddly is right.”

  “She’s warming up,” responded Alexis.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Taylor retrieved his handgun and rammed the barrel into its worn holster with the satisfaction of a man reuniting with an old friend. “In the meantime, we have several FTL trips ahead of us. We’ll reconvene with our passengers once those are done and we’re drifting in a quiet, forgotten system. Finish your standard post-jump procedures and maintenance, then rest for the remainder of our journey. You’ve all earned some downtime after that fracas.”

  Rinko smiled and cocked her head. “Look at our captain being uncharacteristically generous.”

  “Don’t get used to this behavior. I won’t be making a habit of it.”

  Chapter 12

  Captain Genevieve Letourneau placed gloved hands on a rail as her Nova-class frigate Constellation decelerated from faster-than-light travel and entered the Tuatha system. A gas giant of swirling blue and orange was visible beyond an expansive viewport circling the command bridge, its volatile surface locked in fierce storms larger than most terrestrial worlds. Tumbling ice particles, dust and rocky debris arced around the planet in a network of rings, along with seventy-one moons. Several automated helium-3 mining stations operated here, extracting the valuable resource used in starship fusion propulsion cores, yet no crews staffed the facilities. Her task force was alone in this stretch of space.

  She felt a measure of apprehension clawing at her stomach from jumping into a system at war with itself. Confederacy operatives stationed on Elatha and Delbaeth assured her this entry trajectory was secure, yet any blind arrival posed risks. No one could predict how warring fleets might respond to intruders entering their territory, and even a single intercepted transmission might result in an ambush. Genevieve would take no chances or allow herself to fall victim to complacency.

  “Approaching geostationary orbit around Ollathair, Captain,” announced Helm. “Desired altitude will be reached in eight minutes.”

  Genevieve glanced down from her command walkway at sensor stations. “Status of Nightwatch and Ardent?”

  “Both corvettes remain in formation with all systems functioning at optimal levels.”

  “Transmit our vector to their navigators.”

  “At once, ma’am.”

  “Sensor Chief,” Genevieve said. “Status update on long-range sensor arrays.”<
br />
  “No heat signatures or propulsion core emissions detected,” she responded. “We aren’t receiving communications on any frequency in this vicinity either.”

  “Maintain all surveillance protocols and report any changes, no matter how inconsequential or distant. Even if you start hearing music from a decade ago I want to know about it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Gunnery Officer?” questioned Genevieve.

  “Weapons and targeting systems remain offline as per reconnaissance procedures. Should I activate primary batteries?”

  “Negative. All weapons are to remain dormant unless I direct otherwise. I don’t want local squadrons and fleets to think we’re aggressors. But make our targeting suites operational and disengage all safety parameters on our weaponry. I want them able to be brought online at a moment’s notice if our situation worsens.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Instruct the Nightwatch and Ardent to do likewise, and to withhold fire in all circumstances until I clear their captains for engagement. Should the worst happen to us, I want it made clear we did not commence hostilities.”

  Genevieve released the rail and entwined both hands behind her back, eyeing the tempestuous world lying straight ahead. “Communications, ready our unencrypted transmission to the Elathan and Delbaethi governments detailing the Confederacy’s offer to mediate in this conflict, but do not transmit. We’ll wait until this region is secure before broadcasting our position.”

  “Acknowledged, ma’am.”

  Captain Letourneau permitted herself a calming exhalation and adjusted the black and white peaked cap she wore atop hair gathered in a Dutch braid. Tension drained from her stiff shoulders as all indications proved this region was empty. Though she graduated top of her class from the Viscount Torrington Naval Academy on Morrigan eight years earlier and served as a lieutenant aboard a destroyer during the intervening years, this was her first command. Following her promotion to captain, Genevieve’s three warship task force was dispatched to the Ariniddu system four months previous to conduct training exercises and anti-piracy patrols. The Constellation’s armaments had fired in anger only once, in order to cripple the engines of a gunboat used by pirates to ambush merchants.

  Now she led nearly one thousand servicemen and women into an active warzone. She wanted to believe her track record in piracy and smuggling operations warranted this assignment, yet Genevieve feared she was chosen merely because her starships were closest and therefore easiest to deploy. Frigates and corvettes were also less threatening than dreadnoughts or cruisers and therefore unlikely to come under attack. At least that was the prevailing theory to emerge from Parliamentary members, most of whom had never served even a day in the military.

  Too often politicians dictated strategy and procedure to naval officers. Genevieve’s duty was to obey without question, though she would take no unnecessary risks despite her orders. She refused to let one thousand loyal personnel sacrifice themselves for politicians who thought it was wise to playact as admirals.

  “Communication received,” said a sensor operator from his terminal.

  “What are its contents?” Genevieve questioned.

  “Data dump on an encrypted channel. The transmission was redirected to us from a naval communications substation in the Tawara system, but its origin is Ethriel on Delbaeth.”

  “Are its verification codes legitimate?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Transfer the data to my private console.”

  “Desired altitude above Ollathair reached, Captain,” affirmed Helm.

  “Engineering is directed to shut down primary propulsion core and maintain position,” Genevieve responded.

  She turned away from the viewport, strode to her command station and inputted her authorization. Information materialized on holographic screens and she swiped between files with her fingertips. The data originated from a Confederacy operative assigned to Delbaeth with the codename Sunspot, whose identity and history were unknown to Genevieve. She knew only to trust this person, a highly trained specialist who would provide crucial information regarding the two secretive planets at war.

  Genevieve skimmed the contents of several files containing warship registries, army personnel, defensive stations, classified technology and key ranking members in government and military branches. Other files reported the war’s progress, detailing where fleets were deployed, what cities suffered devastating bombardment, which areas and bases were occupied by adversarial troops. No file mentioned hostilities near Ollathair and its closest neighboring planets, yet Genevieve knew the situation could change within moments. For the sake of their survival, her crews needed to remain alert.

  She forwarded all files to her private cabin, closed the console and withdrew at a brisk pace. “Lieutenant Yacoby?”

  The Constellation’s executive officer snapped to attention at his station. “Yes, Captain?”

  “Raise our readiness level to Priority Seven and instruct Lieutenant Galanos to begin daily close-order and boarding drills for the marines. Engineering and Gunnery are to conduct their own emergency preparedness training at regular intervals, and I want crews on the Nightwatch and Ardent to do the same.”

  “I’ll relay the commands, ma’am.”

  “Flight Control, launch our Scimitar starfighters to conduct surveillance flights in assigned formations, with orders to report all spacecraft entering this region.” Genevieve stared through the viewport at distant stars and worlds beyond the capricious gas giant. “I want to know everything happening in my sky.”

  *

  Winston Vanderlin carved his knife through finely grilled steak and savored the tender meat before swallowing it with a mouthful of sautéed mushrooms. He dined in his hotel’s exquisite restaurant with managers who directed the affairs of Triaxus Corporation here on Jiaolong.

  Both excelled in their positions, though neither possessed the imagination and vision necessary to catapult their operations higher. Which was why Winston made certain they remained here on the Confederacy capital world. Many would view the posting as a vote of confidence, yet the reasons were much different. Jiaolong was a heavily industrialized planet with little room for expansion in the mining and manufacturing industries, a perfect fit for those capable of managing current affairs but not skilled enough to develop their holdings and increase revenue. Winston sent his brightest and most promising employees to underdeveloped worlds with the potential for exponential growth, where a sharp and ruthless mind might thrive without restrictions and bureaucracy.

  “The neodymium mining expansion on Qu Yuan is matching expectations,” announced Khuong as he stirred his bowl of soup. “Our first shipment will be ready to send offworld next week.”

  “And the acquisition of Silvana Technologies?” Winston questioned.

  Juliana sipped sparkling water from her glass and sliced into a swordfish fillet. “Negotiations were recently finalized under acceptable terms. The factories and assembly lines from their publicly traded divisions will adapt our policies and begin manufacturing for us by next month.”

  “Their armaments division?”

  “Already producing small arms and starfighter-class torpedoes. Larger caliber personal weapons and starfighter cannon mounts will commence by the end of this week.”

  “Excellent. Have you encountered any difficulties from the Silvana shareholders?”

  “Minimal,” responded Khuong. “The most vocal were either paid off or encouraged to sell their shares. Those who remained lost the stomach to continue resisting and accepted our promise of an increased dividend once news of the sale goes public.”

  “Continue strengthening our investment—”

  Winston noticed Alessandro enter the restaurant and pass between tables. His trusted Vice-President for Operations interrupted the conversation and crossed to where Winston sat, leaning in close and lowering his voice to a hushed whisper.

  “The reporter and her media entour
age are arriving outside,” Alessandro said. “You’ll need to leave now to make the meeting appear coincidental.”

  Winston chewed a final bite of the succulent steak, wiped his mouth with a napkin and placed the soiled fabric on his plate. “My attention is required elsewhere. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course, sir,” replied Juliana.

  “I’ve taken care of the bill. Please remain and enjoy your meals. Try the roasted pears with lemon mascarpone for dessert. They’re divine.”

  Winston exited the restaurant alongside Alessandro and crossed through a grand foyer on his way to the street. Guests wealthy enough to afford this hotel, from businesspeople and entrepreneurs to dignitaries and icons of popular culture, gathered in the hall or shared drinks with colleagues.

  “Adeleh Farahani was sent?” asked Winston.

  “Yes, sir. Ms. Sima was uncompromising on that detail.”

  “Does she understand her role in this?”

  Alessandro adjusted the cuff on one blue sleeve. “Ms. Farahani received a fifteen percent salary increase this month. She has no illusions about what is expected of her. Integrity is an unwanted distraction on the road to fame and fortune, one she recently decided is not worth her time.”

  A hotel employee opened the lobby entryway and tucked his head in respect. “Good day, Mr. Vanderlin.”

  Winston nodded and left the building, descending stairs clad in carpet and passing between stone columns carved to resemble ancient Greek temples on abandoned Earth. Airspeeder traffic raced past at ground level and in numerous aerial lanes rising at regular intervals from the surface to beyond the two hundredth story above. Pedestrians strolled the sidewalk and crossed between structures using roofed bridges, all enjoying the lovely weather on this sunny day. Winston’s ocular implants compensated and reduced the intense glare to a pleasant level.

  A voice shouted his name from airspeeders parked on the avenue. “Mr. Vanderlin!”

  Winston paused on the final stair and pretended to finally notice the news crew and their van. A stylized logo depicting planets orbiting twin stars decorated the vehicle. The symbol represented Prudentia Media Group, a telecommunications corporation holding the dominant position in the Heliades’ crowded industry. Though public knowledge suggested the media group was independent, in truth Sima Jiaying owned a controlling share through several trusts and firms. On most days she chose not to influence their journalism, but when instructed to embrace a certain stance, criticize policies or interview particular individuals, their reporters and anchors did as told. The media group offered considerable vocal support when Parliament announced its resolution to send warships to Tuatha, for instance, framing Jiaying as the crucial architect of a strategy that might avert war. Now they were charged with softening the image of Triaxus Corporation, and delegated their most popular journalist for the assignment.