“I should have known. Criminal scum” she growls.
“Shipmate Belling, what is the status of our ships?” Ravaan asks. Alonso checks and double checks the situation, but everyone on the bridge has already guessed they were in trouble.
“Okay… the seven ships are still active, but the Arrowhead behind us is in no shape to fight anymore. There’s a fleet suppression class ship out there, the Vanguard, but she’s been blasted even worse than the Arrowhead. They must have targeted her first. We’re the only ship without any damage”
“So, what you’re saying is we can’t fight our way out of this, Alonso?” Nemmy asks. Under the glare of his commanding officers, Alonso drops his eyes to the deck.
“Respectfully Captain, no. With those extra ships here, we’d probably be destroyed in the first missile wave” he moans.
“So, we need options,” Amira says, moving to her console. Nemmy gets out of her chair, putting a hand on Amira’s arm.
“There only is one option. I’ll have to go over to his ship” she says, already cringing for the expected backlash. Instead, Amira only raises an eyebrow, and Ravaan is the one who explodes.
“Captain, you cannot put yourself in the hands of that sociopath! I implore you, please, heed my advice for once” he says. His voice remains controlled, but the words sting Nemmy deeply.
“Ravaan, I value your advice highly. I always do. Always. But I have to do anything I can to keep this crew safe, even if it’s not the correct regulation. If things go bad, then get out of here, okay?” She says. His face retains a passive emotionless glare. He isn’t impressed, clearly.
“A couple of shuttles are heading towards Orion’s ship” Emily informs everyone. Oddly, it boosts Nemmy’s hopes. If others are already going, then she has to go. Ravaan will understand. She gets out of her chair and heads for the door.
“See if you can find out what happened to the shipyard defences,” she says. Amira gets up and follows her, stopping only to open a storage unit at the door and picking out a rifle.
“You’re not going over there without me,” she says.
“I wondered when you’d volunteer” Nemmy jokes.
“I’m only annoyed you did it first” Amira replies as they leave the bridge.
Despite Lynsey’s animated protests, Nemmy and Amira agreed that no-one else would join them on Itzcoatl’s shuttle. He takes them out, and they quickly come alongside the shuttle from the Arrowhead. Blackened sections coat the hull and Nemmy notices that one of the landing legs is warped into a jagged, almost hook-like shape. If they had arrived only five minutes earlier, who knows how many Boomslang crew would be dead now. A dreadful thought.
“I hope you learn this Andres Orion’s motivations,” Itzcoatl says, cutting through the silence.
“What do we need to know? He’s a violent vigilante” Amira snaps. Itzcoatl chuckles softly.
“An accurate label, but why does he do it? Why risk your life and the lives of others? I don’t doubt the trading life is dangerous, but this is folly. They can’t hope to defeat the entire Space Force, I assume” he says.
“I fully intend to find out,” Nemmy answers. “This is different to making threats and speeches. They’ve attacked the ISF directly. There must be a reason”
The shuttle pair quickly joins the trail of other shuttles heading towards the Solar Flare. None of the attacking ships seem to match each other, but Orion’s ship, in particular, stands out. A thick black and red lump with multiple sections rearing up angrily over the front of the hull, it appears to Nemmy as a giant spider-like creature pulling the shuttles in with angled legs. Those ‘legs’ were heavily armed, as scans have confirmed. She notes with relief that the Boomslang has slightly changed position, presumably to allow for warp travel directly away. She might not listen to Ravaan enough, but at least he had listened to her. She swore to keep the ship safe, and she meant it.
The shuttle passes between the spider legs of the ship into the waiting landing platform. The Imperial shuttles all slowly spin before landing, each pointed back towards open space. The Solar Flare doesn’t have an open-ended landing bay and presumably, the outer legs were originally used to move stock in and out of the ship. But to Nemmy, the increasing feeling is that of being corralled into a prison. If the legs close, they’ll be trapped. A soft clank confirms the landing, and Itzcoatl steps out of the cockpit with a concerned look.
“Please be careful. I’ll run as many scans as I can get away with” he says.
“We’ll be fine,” Nemmy replies. “Probably” she blurts out. Itzcoatl shares her worries. Amira places reassuring hands on their shoulders.
“Relax, they’re not going to kill us. This is a show of power, nothing more. They mean to embarrass and intimidate us” she says, moving to the door.
“What if you are mistaken?” Itzcoatl asks. Amira snorts her amusement.
“I don’t make mistakes, Sergeant,” she says, before stepping out of the shuttle. Nemmy gives a relieved Itzcoatl a knowing smile. She gets out of the shuttle, thankful for Amira’s bravado. But even before the shuttle landed she had spotted several armed people on the deck awaiting them. Her and Amira quickly group with the other officers. Captains, all with at least one security officer. Some came with two or three. A pair of armed women stand in front of the grouped officer, motioning them to follow.
“Andres wishes to speak to you. Behave, and you’ll live” one of the women announces. They lead the group through the main exit, a high door with various mechanisms lining the faint yellow walls. More and more armed people surround them with every step.
“What happened to the defence ships?” she whispers to the group. Most simply shrug or exchange confused looks.
“My brother’s ship was called away, responding to an attack on a mining station. We had just arrived for refits” a Captain replies.
“Now that you mention it, during my off shift, we received an update on an attack earlier today, but it was on a large “Goof” transport carrying new IGF recruits to a training centre. A few ships went out there” someone else offered. Amira took a sharp breath.
“Smart”
“What is?” Nemmy asks.
“I’ll explain when we’re not in earshot,” she says, gliding a hand towards some of the armed individuals around. They remain silent as they are led around a long bend, coming to a stop in a central dome-like room. The deck is covered with tracks and lines. Nemmy assumes this is another upgraded trading ship, although it is considerably more advanced than any other she’s seen. Numerous people circle around them, training various weapons on the officers from all directions. Nemmy counts at least two dozen, with more filing in from a side door. The last couple of figures exit the door and stand directly in front of the group. Realisation floods through Nemmy.
“Roman?” She asks. He lets out an amused whoop, pulling out his pistol and quickly flicking the red tips of her hair with the barrel.
“Oh, I’m glad you remember me, Captain! Because I remember you. I remember all those promises of help” he spits.
“I did try! I brought your complaints to the Captain’s Summit, but-“
“Summits!” He roars, “Whilst you all sit chatting and sipping the finest wine, we are out here being killed!” He shouts, exaggerating for the crowd. A few of the armed people shout and remonstrate. The infamous scarred man standing deathly still behind him slowly places a hand on his shoulder. Roman moves behind, smirking and spinning his pistol around. Andres Orion is dressed much the same as the rest. The heavy black boots and trousers. The thick, worn, rugged grey coat and gloves. Joined with the hard look of a man who has done physical labour his whole life. Scars aside, he looks exactly like any other person on the ship. But his presence carries something; he draws the eyes of his followers with almost God-like magnetism. He is already a hero in their eyes, a symbol of their cause. Killing him would only
exacerbate the situation, and he knows that. He regards the officers with a faint smile. He also is the only person in the room not carrying a weapon, Nemmy notes.
“Welcome aboard. I’ve brought you here to explain the situation to you so that you can then tell your superiors” Andres says. He stamps his foot on the floor, and instantly the lighting dims and a huge holo-projection appears in the air behind him. The shattered hull of a ship fills the space. It’s clear this ship has been attacked and left for dead.
“Do any of you know what cargo this ship was carrying?” Andres asks softly. Of course, the officers exchanged befuddled looks amongst themselves. They don’t even recognise the ship, let alone anything else.
“Of course, you don’t. Why would you? It wasn’t precious metals. Nor was it industrial supplies, or weapons, or experimental technology, or even food. A group of miners were having their personal possessions delivered to their new posting. Clothing, mementoes, a few old-fashioned paper books, children’s toys, and so forth. Seven people went along to look after the delivery, but they didn’t hire extra security. Why would they? It was just another trading ship, run by registered traders, carrying Imperial citizens along a known Imperial convoy route, under the protection of the Imperial Space Force. What could happen?”
His voice is measured; calm even, but his face contorts with barely contained anger. His scarred skin wrinkles up as he speaks. Nemmy takes a quick moment to glance around. Some of her fellow officers at least have the dignity to look somewhat upset. But not all of them, as a few glare hatefully at Andres. Another foot stamp changes the holo-image, to a body floating next to an angry looking tear in the side of the ship. Various unidentified objects float out of the massive hole.
“Saeed was a good man. I’d known him over twenty years. Never broke a single law, always helped people when asked, and even without being asked. Do you know what the attackers stole?” Andres asks. He doesn’t appear to expect an answer, but he draws the uncomfortable silence out for several long, excruciating moments. None of his companions make a sound either. Only the far-off din of machinery fills the room until Andres takes a deep breath.
“Nothing. They took…nothing. No warnings. No demands. No threats. They didn’t want the crew’s money or their possessions. Nor did they listen to pleas for mercy. On one of the safest trade routes in space, they were simply murdered” he says. Finally, some of the others around them shout or gesticulate, the tense quiet replaced with seething anger.
“You either can’t protect us, or you won’t. Having watched massive fleets move around, seeing places like this shipyard, it’s obvious to us that you are choosing to ignore us. Therefore, we have to make a statement that you can’t ignore. This Swinefleet shall look after our own affairs from now on. Return to your ships and leave to spread the message” He announces, his voice suddenly rising. Several of his followers jab the officers with their weapons, beginning to herd them back towards the shuttles. Roman steps forward as Andres turns and leaves, pointing at Nemmy.
“You. Wait a moment. Of all the people here, you’re the worst! Most just ignore us, but you lied right to my face!” Roman fumes, waving his pistol about again.
“I didn’t lie! I swear Roman, I tried to help. I’m still trying now!” Nemmy pleads, but Roman is too infuriated to listen. Amira starts to move a hand to her gun, but a barrel pressed against her head stills the idea.
“Don’t even think about it” a voice warns her. Amira’s grunted response brings a violent nudge to the side, leaving Nemmy standing alone in front of an irate Roman. He stops raving suddenly, his face instantly gaining a measure of calmness. He works the power dial on the back of his pistol.
“I could stand here and shout all day, and you stuck up Imperials just won’t understand. So, you need a proper warning” he says, aiming the pistol at Nemmy. Very slowly, she lifts her hands up.
“Roman, I’m truly sorry for everything that has happened to you. To everyone here. You’ve clearly suffered, and it’s our fault, I know that. But I can’t help you if I’m dead” she says. Roman appears to falter slightly, lowering the gun somewhat. Andres has long since left the scene, and only a few of the other armed people remain. One approaches Roman, noticing his obvious doubts. The man, dwarfing Roman in height and width, pummels him with what ostensibly appears to be a friendly punch.
“You’re not getting soft, are ya?” he bellows. When Roman stumbles over an answer, the man laughs heartily. “We’ve got to go. Shoot her and be done with it” he says.
“Roman…” Nemmy pleads. Roman shuts his eyes as he pulls the trigger. The blast slams into her left shoulder, forcing her to the deck. The large man laughs even louder as Nemmy squirms and gasps.
“I would have killed her! This might be funnier though” he bellows, peering over the seared hole in Nemmy’s uniform. Amira rushes over to check the wound.
“At least give her something for the burning” Amira barks at the two men. The larger man finds the whole situation hilarious, wrapping a huge arm around Roman and leading him away from the two. Amira glowers at them for a moment before helping Nemmy struggle to her feet. A searing hot agony shudders through Nemmy’s entire upper body. She tries to speak, but only pained gasps escape her lips. Amira wraps her arm around Nemmy’s waist and bodily moves her towards the shuttles. Nemmy’s face is flushed and covered in sweat, and the powerful musk of scorched flesh clings to them as Amira powers the pair back to the group of Imperials.
“This is an outrage!” someone shouts as they inspect the damage. One of the older Captains peers closely at the wounded area, drawing her fingers around the charred material around Nemmy’s upper chest.
“Hmm…wide nozzle, low power setting. This was to cause pain, not permanent injury” she declares.
“I can confirm that,” Nemmy gasps out, chewing on her lip. Amira moves her past the crowding officers towards their shuttle. Most remain for a few moments to vent about the situation, but neither Amira nor Nemmy care to listen. The shuttle door isn’t even completely closed when Itzcoatl lifts them off the deck. Nemmy is moved to the back seats so she can lie down. Amira efficiently applies a Med-Net to Nemmy’s upper chest, who instantly lets out a prolonged sigh of relief.
“Thank you so much,” she says with a weak smile. Amira pats her on the leg.
“You’re not a proper officer until you’ve been shot at least once. Itzcoatl, link the shuttle comp to the main database of the station and direct all communication logs to the console here. And set a course for the main station” she says, getting up to go to the console. Within seconds she is engrossed, scrolling through various comm discussions, orders and messages. Nemmy pulls herself up to a sitting position to watch, and Itzcoatl comes out to discover what Amira hopes to find. Whatever it is, she locates it quickly, exclaiming quietly and jabbing her finger at the readouts. Itzcoatl nods in realisation.
“I see. Very intelligent” he says.
“Could someone fill me in perhaps?” Nemmy asks. Amira spins the console round, drawing her finger under a few lines of data.
“The defences were called away because there was a series of attacks on nearby settlements. Each time a group of ships was sent from here to respond, like clockwork. They didn’t even think about it, just hear the alarm, then respond with ships” Amira spat angrily.
“The organisation required to pull off this move is astonishing. A clever old trick” Itzcoatl says.
“When the other ships were almost at their destinations, hours away at full speed, then Orion’s ships arrived here” Amira goes on. Nemmy sucks in a deep breath. More than the impressive organisation, knowing how and when the station will respond is the troubling element. There are citizens out there that don’t even know this shipyard exists, let alone know how it would respond to attack threats, down to the exact ship count. Orion must have resources far beyond what was initially expected. Perhaps even spies on the main stat
ion. As if reading her thoughts, Itzcoatl goes back to the cockpit.
“I’ll have us in the station proper in…Captain, a couple of our ships have opened fire!” he suddenly announces. Amira whirls round, activating a viewing window. Two of their ships have left the group of Imperial ships and are bursting towards the Swinefleet ships. The bright trails of missiles are already visible, soaring ahead towards the enemy.
“Idiots!” Amira shouts. All at once, the Swinefleet ships return fire, a huge barrage of missiles and cannon fire lighting up space. At the close distance, the ship in front barely has time to stop before being destroyed by the wave of fire. The second ship, another patrol ship, spins as if the ship itself has realised its folly. But to no avail, as another flurry of plasma blasts and missiles slice through the ship. Within seconds everything falls quiet again. To the shock of everyone in the shuttle, the Swinefleet do not destroy the remaining Imperials. The two groups float silently across from each other, separated only by the expanding debris. Amira switches off the window as the shuttle enters the station. The landing area is deserted, and various containers and grav-tables lay strewn around the spacious room.
“I can’t appear to locate the station staff, although there are a couple of sections that are shielded against scans,” Itzcoatl says, frowning.
“I’ll head in and have a look. Someone over here must be helping them, there’s no other way to guarantee all those ships would leave within one day without someone calling it out” Amira says. Itzcoatl commits a few commands to his console then stands up as if he means to join her.
“You don’t need to come. If they’ve got people over here, it might be dangerous” Amira says. Itzcoatl takes out his pistol with a thin smile.
“I’m no expert marksman, but I can take care of myself,” He says with an easy confidence. Nemmy hauls herself off the bench.
“Captain…” Amira says, but Nemmy waves her off.
Unknown Earth Volume 2 Page 19