Randolph Lalonde - Spinward Fringe Broadcast 08 - Renegades

by Randolph Lalonde

  CHAPTER 37

  The Triton Engages

  “Show me the centre of the issue,” Oz said as he stepped in beside Lieutenant Victor Davis, who was standing in the centre of the lower half of the bridge. A portion of the lower half of the bridge had been adapted for internal security, and Victor shared it with Paula Mendle, the Flight Operations Chief, who was heavily pregnant.

  “Here it is,” Victor replied to Oz as he brought up a few playbacks recorded only moments before. Oz selected the most recent clip from a club called the Oota Galoona. It was being used as a gathering hub, mess hall, and observation area for people who were new to the ship and given quarters nearby. In the clip, the Oota Galoona was packed, and as Oz played it, he saw people watching Ayan’s speech.

  At the end, when she made it clear that they were fighting the Carthan Alliance, several people, in new but basic vacsuits, got to their feet and started arguing with people from nearby tables. With a simple adjustment, Victor cleared up the audio so Oz could hear one tall woman shout, “We didn’t sign up to go to war with the Carthans! They’ll break this ship’s back and turn us into drone soldiers!”

  A patron at her side shoved a pair of nearby men into a table where several crewmembers sat. People nearby were getting to their feet, and Oz watched as arguments started springing up wherever vocal malcontents from either side decided it was their place to force their opinions on another.

  Seeing the rough looking new recruits in their very basic, unmarked uniforms choosing sides reminded Oz of another situation that took place aboard months before. It was a situation he still believed he handled badly. “This is two minutes behind,” Oz said as he advanced to the current moment. The shouting was continuing, and two people were highlighted in red, indicating that a short-lived physical altercation had taken place, and a few people in the crowd were keeping them separated. “Okay, this is escalating and we don’t have time,” Oz told Victor. “Sedate everyone in Oota Galoona using their medical monitoring patches, then have a team gently move them to their quarters. Confine anyone who was recorded committing assault to any degree to their bunks until we can address every one of them. If it looks like there will be problems with smaller groups of newcomers, I want your security people to escort them to quarters. We don’t have time for any large incidents.”

  “How long do you want me to sedate the crowd in Oota Galoona for?” Victor asked.

  “Six hours,” Oz said. “Let them get a good night’s sleep before they have the opportunity to volunteer for repair and support crews. If they don’t volunteer when they wake up, we’ll put them off the ship. No exceptions.”

  “Aye,” Victor replied.

  Oz took the ramp up to the top level of the bridge, aware that Victor thought his methods were harsh, but Captain Terry Ozark McPatrick was past the end of his patience with people who believed they deserved more than they were getting aboard the Triton. It seemed half the people they recruited from Tamber over the previous three days expected five star treatment, or to be put in charge.

  Not only was that not possible, but none of the new recruits had earned any rights to anything but decent food, good lodgings, and the opportunity at a rewarding job starting at the bottom of the command ladder. Only twenty percent had finished a qualification trial of any kind, and they were placed according to their skills and the levels of loyalty they exhibited. The training systems aboard were incredible, and most of the people who finished their first qualifications were astounded at the world of career opportunities that opened up. The qualification system was set up like a broad tree chart, and there was training available for everything within a crewmember’s aptitude. All the Triton Officers asked was that any crewmember who took a position served there for at least a month before applying for another post aboard.

  “Under other circumstances, you would approach that problem differently?” the voice of Triton asked through Oz’s subdermal communicator.

  Oz simply nodded in response. He hadn’t told most of the crew about the being that served as the heart and mind of the Triton yet. The time was coming, but there were still too many new people aboard.

  “I’m glad, but I agree with your methods for the moment. Now for our real problem,” Triton said. “Navnet is working in the Carthans’ favour.”

  Oz took the command seat in the middle of the bridge and looked to Agameg. The tactical hologram surrounding the command seating showed exactly what Triton was telling him. A thick river of ships had been directed between the Carthan command carrier and the rest of the solar system, making it impossible for Triton to approach cloaked. “There’s no way we’ll be able to fire on time with all that in the way,” Oz said.

  “By Panloo’s estimation, we can close to seventy thousand kilometres without dropping our cloak,” Agameg told him. “Any closer and we risk several collisions. Our shields will protect us, but the other ships would be devastated. We will not have a good firing solution on the carrier.”

  “How many of the ships in the flight pattern between us and the carrier are smaller Carthan vessels?”

  “Only thirty-four percent – they are obviously creating a screen intentionally while preserving most of their own smaller ships. Most of the screen is not armed,” Agameg replied. “I wonder if they know why they’re being directed there?”

  “Probably not. From what we’ve seen with the Carthans over the last few months, they don’t have much regard for life past filling manpower needs. How is our shield regeneration rate?” Oz asked. “Do we still have a potential overload problem with reactor three?”

  “Yes, but the other reactors are making up for it. The new bypass is active, and we can regenerate our entire deflection shield from zero in just over six seconds. Refraction and cloak shielding are not a problem.”

  Oz shook his head and smiled. “I can’t believe what you’ve accomplished in two days, Agameg.”

  “I regret not being able to fully re-establish power to the gunnery deck. If I knew we would be going into a fight today, I would have it finished for you.”

  Oz checked the torpedo load status and was more than pleased. All five of the missile turrets were loaded with the ordinance he requested and they were as ready as they could be, considering the timing. The command carrier they were targeting had a broad centre with hundreds of shield emitters. The main thruster section at the aft of the ship splayed out like four fingers, and at the fore the main launch bays mirrored the pattern. “That ship is in good shape, I’m surprised their taking it into the fight at all,” Oz said as he examined the enemy vessel’s shield profile for any weakness. A message came in from the main hangar, informing him that the collision shuttles were ready well ahead of schedule. He was amazed at how fast the crew who returned to Triton from Haven Shore only days ago resumed their old duties. Triton’s operating crew was back over two thousand seven hundred, nowhere near ideal, but better than it had been in months.

  “A transmission from Ayan to the Carthans on public bands,” Agameg said as he brought up a hologram of Ayan in full heavy armour. Her headgear was retracted, her face framed by a thick, curly red mane.

  “I am giving the Carthan Government one more chance to cease firing on Haven Shore’s energy shield and outbuildings before we retaliate. In a moment, it will be too late for negotiations. You have thirty seconds to reply,” she said. “I plead on behalf of your soldiers, and your remaining citizens in the service. The loss of life you stand to suffer goes far beyond your expectations.”

  “They really should trust her,” Oz said under his breath.

  “She is charitable,” Triton told him telepathically. “I wonder if she’s buying time, or if she really wants this to be resolved peacefully?”

  “She wants peace,” Oz said. “We’re going to be spending resources that should be reserved for an Order of Eden attack, or even an Edxi incursion. She knows how pointless this is more than anyone.”

  “You are right,” Agameg replied, not realizing that Oz was a
ctually speaking to someone in his mind. “I’ve always admired the Triton Crew and Ayan’s people for how much they consider the lives of the people around them, but this battle is a tactical error that we cannot prevent.”

  The response from the Carthans came before the thirty seconds was up. “This is Cory Greene, representative to Haven Shore for the Carthan Defence Force,” said the hologram of the well-groomed official. His uniform featured a fine coat loosely held together by dangling jewellery chains. “Sovereign Ayan and her people have built a significant military force, a stronghold with significant combat potential, and are claiming more territory every month. If this wasn’t threat enough to peace on Tamber and the rest of the solar system, we’ve also observed a recruiting drive which allowed known criminals to join their ranks, as well as many unknown persons who could have Order of Eden leanings. It is also known that the Triton Fleet openly colludes with the Warlord and its captain: Jacob Valent, a suspected terrorist. In light of the destabilizing potential of this situation, we have no choice but to assume control of all Haven Shore and Triton Fleet assets. We ask that you surrender your arms and surrender to the nearest Carthan military officer. Thank you for your time.” The holographic bust of the official disappeared and Oz couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Please give us a moment to consider your offer,” Ayan replied on all public bands.

  Everyone on the bridge was shocked, except for Agameg, who regarded Oz with an amused expression. “She is endeavouring to draw the Carthans in?”

  “Oh yeah,” Oz said. His personal comm unit presented him with a simple message from Ayan that said, ‘HIT THEM HARD ALREADY.’ “Attention,” he said to everyone on the bridge. “I just got confirmation from Ayan that our assault is going forward. She’s just buying us an opportunity to get closer, so we’re going to signal a surrender. Drop cloaking shields, send out a white flag message, and start heading for a navnet flight pattern that will get us close to that command carrier.”

  Panloo seemed oddly pleased at the turn of events as she plotted a course towards a route reserved for large ships entering Tamber’s orbit. The cloaking system deactivated, but their shields were fully charged.

  “Triton Command, we see your white flag signal,” announced a voice broadcast from the Carthan command carrier. “Please follow your navnet approved course and prepare to be boarded. Please drop all but manoeuvring shields and proceed along that course.”

  “We’re undermanned,” Oz explained in response. “As you may have heard. It’ll take a moment for my helmswoman and tactical controllers to make the changes you’re requesting. Please be patient.”

  That seemed to satisfy the command team aboard the carrier, which had stopped firing on Haven Shore from high orbit. Oz watched as Triton managed to follow a different navnet course from the one that had been suggested. They were indirectly closing on the command carrier, already less than sixty thousand kilometres away. Oz checked their torpedo bay status. Thanks to Triton’s directions in advanced manufacturing and repair, they’d managed to manufacture enough antimatter torpedoes to fire every bay three times.

  “The closest we’ll get using a navnet course is thirty eight thousand kilometres,” Panloo’s co-pilot, a young man named Colin Sage, announced. He was a good pilot, but an excellent navigator who got along exceptionally well with Panloo, and just as importantly, Zoe.

  As they closed to forty thousand kilometres, the command carrier fired its five main dorsal beam weapons. Most of the intense light was refracted away from Triton towards Tamber’s atmosphere where it was harmlessly dispersed, while the heavier particles did minimal damage to the ship’s shields. “They’re on to us. Fire all missiles, let’s blind them,” Oz ordered.

  All fourteen lower missile launchers along the bottom of Triton’s hull opened and fired hundreds of disabler rockets. The white flag gambit got them clear of most of the orbital traffic, and the majority of the ships left in the way were able to take evasive action. Oz counted three vessels that were struck, and marked them for rescue.

  The Carthan carrier’s countermeasure systems fired small, rough projectiles at a rate of thousands of rounds per minute to blast the incoming rockets to fragments. Over half were destroyed before they reached their detonation point, three kilometres away from the carrier. The hundred and eighty rockets activated, blasting the enemy ship with waves of light across all spectrums then exploding in a coordinated electromagnetic pulse.

  “Fire all torpedoes,” Oz said. “That trick won’t blind them for long.”

  The sounds of the clicks and slides of three tonne torpedoes launching from bays above and beneath the bridge announced the departure of their deadly projectiles. Oz’s tactical display confirmed that all thirty-six bays had launched, and that concluded their mission in that area. “Panloo, take us down.”

  “Aye, going atmospheric,” Panloo said as she guided the ship into a course that would take them around the command carrier at a safe distance and into the atmosphere of Tamber.

  The command carrier wasn’t as blind as Oz had hoped the disabler missiles would render them, and their shields weren’t as taxed. Before all the torpedoes were in range, the carrier managed to disable or destroy twenty-one of them, leaving only fifteen to detonate on target. For a moment the light, force, and heat was too intense for even Triton’s sensors to adjust to. The entire command carrier was enveloped in a globe of white-blue fire for several seconds. When it cleared, entire hundred metre sections of the ship’s outer hull were white-hot and weakened, but there were few breaches. Two of their main fighter bays had been destroyed, their bay doors open when the torpedoes detonated, and the command carrier’s shields were down. “

  “Message coming in sir, high priority,” announced the youngest of the communications officer, he seemed a little too excited.

  “On the main,” Oz said.

  A Carthan commander in a dark combat uniform looked direct at him from the main holographic display in the middle of the Triton’s bridge. “I am Colonel Doherty, and I’m authorized to offer our surrender. We have sustained significant damage, and will not be able to retreat from the solar system for several days, however,” she said emotionlessly.

  “Your surrender must be unconditional. We will determine terms, this will not be a negotiation,” Oz said.

  “I’m afraid we have no choice,” replied the Colonel. “I either fight and suffer unacceptable losses, or surrender and spend all our energy repairing critically damaged systems. You have our unconditional surrender, Commander McPatrick.”

  “I will send officers to each of your major vessels to accept the codes necessary to establish our command over your ships within the hour. I wish we could help with repairs, but our staff is busy here,” Oz said.

  “Understood, Commander.” The transmission closed and the bridge staff cheered.

  CHAPTER 38

  Farewell

  “You may not want to go in there,” one of the guards standing sentry beside the quarters reserved for the British Alliance Council Representative, Sunny Zines. The heavy tropical night rain tapped a tattoo onto the outer sections of the building, a sound Ayan typically enjoyed. She looked at Lacey and she nodded, stopping beside the guard.

  Ayan had seen gore, most recently on Pandem. Whatever awaited her in Sunny’s quarters would not compare. The lights in the room were out, turned off by the guards who found the scene and sealed it. Through a large section of transparent metal she could see the winking lights of the surviving outbuildings. The cloud cover plunged Haven Shore into an even darker shade of night, turning light into rarefied beacons.

  “I’m sorry,” said the voice of Sunny Zinnes. It was a recording; the real man was dead.

  “Lights, please,” Ayan said aloud. In his last moments, Sunny Zinnes lay out on the bed and recorded a farewell message. She let her comm unit finish a forensic scan of the room and nodded to herself. He used a termination tablet to kill himself. The small pill-like device stopped all his bra
in function after he held it to the roof of his mouth for five seconds. He felt nothing, and there was no way for his government to scan his mind post-mortem for information. “Why did you do this to us?” Ayan asked in a whisper, anger and sadness waging a war in her head. He was a good man, not someone she’d suspect of treachery. Her question triggered the rest of the recording.

  An image of Sunny Zinnes appeared in the middle of the room. “Hello, Ayan. I’m glad you were the first officer to find me. Please listen to what I have to tell you – it’s time for me to be fully forthcoming, something I haven’t done in years now. As you’ve probably guessed, the British Alliance Intelligence Division volunteered me as their observer on the Council, and I was a spy. They thought I was the perfect man for the job, and I was one of the few agents that they could run a background check on and clear completely. They thought I’d lost my entire family when the Holocaust Virus struck, and so did I.

  Three months ago, I was approached on the street by this man.” An image of a thin faced, tall man appeared for a moment. “He provided me with evidence that my son was alive on an Order of Eden reclamation colony. If I didn’t provide information to their intelligence people, they would send him to a work camp, where he would perform hard labour until he died. They didn’t want much information on the British Alliance. They have their sources embedded in the Alliance already, but they needed me to collect information on Haven Shore. So I began providing regular reports, encrypted, sent to an innocent looking space on the Stellarnet where the Order could covertly download the information. The contents of my communications are in the details of this message. Everything was well and good for the first two months, I even received messages from my son, evidence that he was alive, well, and that my work was elevating his station in the religious arm of the Order. Then they began sending me contingency plans, along with specific instructions to build animosity between you and the Carthan government. It was surprisingly easy to manipulate them, as if they were looking for reasons to hate Haven Shore, and more specifically, you. I eventually began leaking information directly to the Carthan Fleet warden, becoming something of a triple agent. A month later, the final part of the Order’s plan was to be put into action. I was to convince Carthan Command that Haven Shore was getting ready to attack their people, to make a play for control of Tamber. At first they didn’t believe me, and I thought I’d made my play too early.