“Be not so disparaging of our plan, Hunter. It is our same expertise you are calling on now to help you. Better it will be if the explosives are brought to you on the station rather than before. No need to smuggle it in then. Also gives us a few hours to assemble what you need.”
“How can it be detonated?” demanded Kusac. “From the planet’s surface, or do we need a ship closer to the stations?”
“Timers would be acceptable.”
“Except I won’t know when I want to set them off until a lot nearer the time. It may be I need to use them as a diversion, or it may be that I just need to blow the stations and the fleets to hell.”
“We can arrange. May need someone to visit each station to set off trigger device, though.”
“I’ll contact you from each station when I find a secure location to do it from.” With that, he closed his connection to the TeLaxaudin.
“We’re going to each of the orbitals. K’hedduk wants me to talk to the Generals and Lords on each, find out who is loyal. Cheelar, get me plans printed off for each of the three military orbitals—don’t bother with the domestic one. M’yikku, get a bag for yourself and Cheelar for two nights away from home, then tell Laazif we’ll be away till the eleventh. On the way, get Maalash and tell him to grab a bag, too. I’m going to pack mine now.”
* * *
Kusac was able to commandeer a shuttle in the underground parking lot where not so many weeks before, they’d unloaded the MUTAC.
As he made his way across the rock floor with M’yikku and Cheelar, he heard the sound of running footsteps.
“It’s Telmaar,” said Cheelar.
“Dammit! Last thing I need is him asking to come with me,” muttered Kusac. Turning round, he waited for the other to catch up.
Telmaar skidded to a stop beside him. “I hear you’re headed up to the orbitals to inspect the Fleet. Mind if I come along? I left some belongings on my ship which I find I need now.”
Kusac hesitated. Once again, he had no good reason to refuse to let him accompany them.
“Don’t worry,” Telmaar reassured him as his own aide panted his way up to him carrying a large holdall. “I hate inspections. I’ll make myself scarce while you do your thing.”
“You’re with the Second Fleet, aren’t you?” Kusac asked. Getting a nod in reply, he said, “I’ll take you up, but you’ll have to get a shuttle there to your ship. I really won’t have time for any relaxation. I’ve only three days to inspect all three fleets, so I’ll have to be focused on that.”
“Fair enough,” said Telmaar. “Shuttle it is. Just glad to get the chance to grab my gear!”
There were four distinct orbitals around M’zull and three had a fleet berthed at them. The fourth was for incoming cargo. Kusac had chosen to go to the military orbitals in order, starting with the First Fleet.
It was the largest as it was the Royal Fleet belonging to the Emperor. General Geddash was in charge of it as the most loyal of the Generals, one who had supported K’hedduk while he was in exile as well as now he was back and in power.
With M’yikku and Maalash handling the luggage, they boarded the utilitarian shuttle and took off for the main orbital.
“Cheelar, go up front and call ahead. Tell them why I am coming and that I expect suitable quarters to be assigned to us for tonight as well as a guide to show us round the orbital. They should also contact each of the ship’s Captains and tell them to hold themselves and their ships ready for possible inspection by me. I’ll also need a briefing room where I will meet with all Generals stationed on the orbital at eighteen hundred hours.”
Cheelar saluted smartly. “Aye, sir,” he said, then headed up to the bridge.
“You seem to have it all well organized,” said Telmaar, leaning back in his seat. “Gossip is you’ve taken to your promotion as one born to it—which, of course, you were.”
“Logistics,” said Kusac, opening his briefcase and pulling out a folder. “It’s all down to logistics, and my aide Cheelar is particularly gifted when it comes to that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to read up on this station and the fleet. I didn’t exactly get much warning of this inspections as I told you.”
“Certainly,” said Telmaar, crossing his legs and fishing in his pocket for a pack of smokes. They were similar to the cheroots that Kezule occasionally smoked.
You do realize he could be a spy, sent Kaid. It’s very convenient that he’s always hearing what you are doing and wants to be involved.
That had occurred to me, too, replied Kusac. I’ll be especially on my guard.
* * *
The flight was short and when they docked, they were met with full military honors, honors that he quickly dispensed with. “I’m here to work, gentlemen. Show my aide to my quarters and provide me with my guide. I’ll tour the facility now,” he said, walking smartly past the welcoming committee and into the main corridor.
The station was purely utilitarian and based on a cuboid design. Each side was divided up into sections of four berths, accessible by staff through a communal docking air lock. A problem at one berth meant all four were locked down. There were five of these sections and three levels per side, giving a total of berths for one hundred and twenty ships—more than enough for the fleet. The lower level berths were for repairs, and the smaller craft. Fuel storage, munitions, and other essential stores were also kept here. Recreation facilities were segregated with Officer country and Admin on the third level, and the non-officers restricted to their own bar and eateries on the second level. Bars on both levels came complete with the companion drones, though access to them was still highly controlled.
The areas Kusac wanted to visit were the Admin level, each of the twenty battleships, and the lower level where the volatile stores were kept. Charges set in the heart of the station where munitions and fuel were stored, would rip through it. From his study of the plans on the flight up, Kusac knew there were elevators at each corner of the station, and four in the central area. There’d be no need to target the individual ships, locked in their docking bays. As the station exploded and crumpled around them, they’d go down, too.
“General Nayash, I’m Lieutenant Niddoe. I’ll be your aide for the duration of your visit to the First Fleet,” said a voice from his elbow. “Where would you like to go first?”
“Third level. While you contact the Generals and get them to meet me in the main briefing room on that level, I will inspect the Admin offices. I expect to meet with them within the hour as my time here is limited. Make sure that food and drinks are served in the room.” He stopped abruptly and pulled his orders from his pocket. “My orders, direct from the Emperor himself, Long Life and Health to Him.”
“Long Life and Health,” echoed the Lieutenant, accepting the papers and quickly casting his eyes over them. “Thank you, General,” he said, handing them back. “I’ll see to contacting the other Generals as soon as we reach the third floor.”
“Maalash, join me when you’ve stowed our luggage,” he ordered. “Cheelar and M’yikku, you’re with me. Well, Niddoe, lead on.”
* * *
Twenty battleships, and twenty Generals. He’d met with them all in as informal a setting as he could have devised, given the time constraints, to get the mood of them collectively, then after about an hour, had met with each one on his own in an interview room. The general mood didn’t bode well for K’hedduk as a full two thirds of them felt he’d acted rashly in sending the Third Fleet out to K’oish’ik and were not impressed by the losses they’d taken. The remaining third would be loyal to the end, royalists each of them. Interestingly, age wasn’t a factor of loyalty.
Interviews over, Kusac headed to the docking bays for the Carriers. With Lieutenant Niddoe to guide them, he made his way leisurely through the bays on one side, just listening to the chatter as the ships were refueled and reprovisioned. One could learn a lot about t
he state of a fleet by just listening.
His next stop was to his rooms for a short break before dinner, long enough to find an errand for M’yikku and Maalash to keep the latter out of the way, so he could contact Azwokkus and get the explosive devices from him.
“You only need to plant three of these, four at most, to have a satisfying large explosion that will take out the station. Have at least one unit in the magazine area.”
“They’re very small,” said Kusac, looking at a slim, dark package about one and a half inches by one inch by a quarter of an inch thick that he held in his hand.
“Bigger than usual,” said the TeLaxaudin. “No time to completely microsize it. Master of nanotech weaponry we are. No need to be larger. Have way to detonate. You tell us when and we detonate for you from space. Signal travels farther as not going through atmosphere. Also you not at risk setting off charges.”
“And not traceable? They can’t find them?”
“Could but unlikely. You can easily place these out of sight on your inspection.”
“Thank you, Azwokkus. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Azwokkus vanished, leaving him alone in his room. He rejoined Cheelar, slipping him four of the explosive devices. “Keep them safe for tomorrow,” he said. “I’m not leaving any in the room, but I don’t want to carry them all myself.”
“Aye, sir,” said Cheelar. “M’yikku just called in, Niddoe has gotten us a table at the Officers’ restaurant. They’re waiting up there for us.”
“Let’s go meet them,” said Kusac.
* * *
The restaurant was standard for all military stations. Just enough opulence to let the officer class relax, but not enough to make it as good as one in the private sector. They’d no sooner begun to eat than the station captain came to meet them.
“General Nayash, Captain Myazou at your service. I was waiting to hear from Lieutenant Niddoe that you were ready to eat, then I planned to invite you to dinner in my quarters.”
“This is fine, Captain. Sit down, Niddoe. I’m sure the Captain doesn’t expect you to jump to your feet! I like to get a feel for the people at each station, Captain Myazou. I’m not one for standing on formality. You’re welcome to join us if you wish.” Kusac waved the middle-aged M’zullian toward an empty seat.
“Thank you, General,” he said, sitting down. “I’ll join you but not to eat. I hear you’re conducting a survey of security measures on each station. I’ve heard of all the raids back on M’zull, the Zsadhi ones. I hope we’re not at risk out here.”
“That’s what this survey is about, Captain. To assess the risks at each of the three stations.”
“I run a secure station here,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed self-justification. “Any insurgents will find it next to impossible to get past my people and the security measures I’ve set up.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Captain Myazou, and this is just a formality. I’ll be checking out the storage level after dinner as my time here is limited. By tomorrow morning, I’ll be gone, but if I have any security recommendations, they’ll be with you within the week.”
“Can I escort you down to Level One after your meal?”
“Thank you, but no. We have Lieutenant Niddoe to act as our guide, I’m sure we’ll be fine. Please, don’t let us delay you from your own dinner any longer.”
Obviously reluctant, Myazou got to his feet and, saluting, left them to finish their meal in peace.
“I do so hate interruptions when I am eating,” said Kusac. “Even adequate food tastes better when eaten leisurely.”
“Meals at your apartment in the Palace are certainly of a better quality, General Nayash,” agreed Cheelar.
“Remind me to send ahead to Station Two tonight and tell them that I’ll be berthed on my battleship for the duration of my visit and will expect to take my meals there. I hope my father had an adequate chef on the Aggressor.”
* * *
The meal over, they made their way down to the first level in one of the central elevators. Security was tight—as the doors slid open, an armed detail demanded their IDs and clearance documents to access the area. Kusac handed the imperial order to Niddoe to show them, and they were passed immediately.
Niddoe led them to one of the service entrances to the fuel storage area where another set of guards again demanded IDs and authorizations from them.
“I haven’t been down here myself,” confessed Niddoe. “What is it you want to see? We may be better getting one of the workers to show us round.”
“Do that, please,” said Kusac. “I mainly want to check out the entrances and exits.”
They waited while one of the guards called for a foreman on his radio. When he arrived, they stepped through into the bowels of the station where the giant fuel storage tanks held the fuel that was pumped all over the station to the various docking bays. To accommodate the tanks, this level was taller than two of the other levels combined, and though relatively clean, the smell of warm oil undercut with a harsh smell he didn’t recognize filled the air.
“Each tank feeds a specific series of docking bays on a set level, though if a tank is empty and we need fuel to say a level three docking bay, we can divert it from one of the other ones. They do that at the pumping office up there.” The foreman pointed upward and off to his left to a floor poised at mid-level among the giant containers. “Only way up there is a service elevator just below it. They have guards on it with stunners since they can’t use energy weapons in here with all the fuel around. You might want to go see the office as it’s the best view you’ll get of the whole fuel depot.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” said Kusac, looking at the rats’ nest of pipes snaking vertically and horizontally all over not only the floor but the walls.
“Those pipes take the fuel between the tanks and correct the mix for each type of ship. We use a different fuel for the fighters than what the battleships use.”
Kusac walked over to the pipes and put his hand against one, feeling it to see if it vibrated.
“Don’t want to do that, General. We keep it pretty clean down here, but some fuel does get onto the pipes. It’s pretty toxic if you get it on your skin,. Might want to ask to wash your hands up in the pump room,” said the foreman.
“I’ll do that, thank you,” said Kusac following Niddoe and the foreman over to the pump room elevator.
CHAPTER 7
K’oish’ik, Zhal-Oeshi 9th (August)
THE visit to the Second Fleet, where his own people and ships were, and Telmaar’s, began smoothly enough. He arrived punctually at their ninth hour of the morning. He’d spent the morning inspecting the ships, then retired to the Aggressor, his own command, for a late lunch, which proved to be as good as any served to him by Laazif.
After lunch, he headed down to inspect the lower levels and the fuel bays, as he had with the First Fleet. Again, the pumping station was mainly controlled from a raised platform with only a few maintenance folk carrying out essential checks on the ground level.
Wandering around on his own, looking for a likely spot to place the explosives, he was shocked to walk round to the back of a huge tank into Telmaar.
“What are you doing down here?” he demanded.
“I was about to ask you the same question,” said Telmaar. “What’s there to inspect down here, if you are doing an inspection for the Emperor, Long Life be His.”
“Long Life,” echoed Kusac—it had become second nature to utter the phrase every time he spoke about K’hedduk. “I think you are overstepping your position,” he said frostily to the older male. “I am on official business and don’t need to prove it to you, a junior officer! It’s time you reported back to your ship!”
“I think you are up to something and am prepared to prove it,” Telmaar said. “I followed you on the last station, as you wandered about th
e fuel depot, the same as you’re doing here. It was as if you were looking for something, something a fellow conspirator might leave hidden down here!”
“Your imagination has gotten away with you,” hissed Kusac, turning away from him. “I’ll overlook your insubordination this time because of the friendship we’ve shared, but I won’t give you a second chance.”
“Friendship,” sneered Telmaar, grasping him by the arm again. “I was never your friend. Inquisitor Ziosh ordered me to get close to you from the start, and that’s what I did! I know you’re involved in this Zsadhi movement, and I’ll prove it!”
“You’re going to do what?” laughed Kusac, grasping the other’s wrist in a lock that painfully disengaged it and left him imprisoned. “I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps he won’t, but we will,” said another voice as two more M’zullians stepped out of the shadows to confront him. “Now let him go. The Inquisitor doesn’t like his people being roughed up.”
Still keeping his grip on Telmaar, Kusac sent a mental command to Cheelar, alerting him to the situation. Though Cheelar wasn’t a telepath, it was possible for Kusac to at least send strong emotions to him and the other commandos.
At the same time, he twisted Telmaar’s arm until the other was facing him and punched him square on the jaw, rendering him unconscious. He dropped Telmaar and turned his attention to the other two. They were junior officers that he’d seen acting as aides, the same way Cheelar and M’yikku did for him.
“Do you really want to mess with me?” he demanded. “Appointed by the Emperor to inspect these facilities?”
“He’s not the real power on M’zull. Everyone knows it’s Inquisitor Ziosh,” sneered one of them, pulling out a firearm and aiming at him.
“Are you going to shoot me down here among tanks of volatile fuel that could blow us all up?” asked Kusac, moving fractionally nearer to his two assailants.
They glanced briefly at each other, allowing Kusac the opportunity to lunge forward and grab the forearm of the one with the gun. A quick tussle followed, during which the gun was dropped.
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