Ronin (The Pike Chronicles Book 3)

by G. P. Hudson

  “Lost control of what?”

  “Captain Pike had a Diakan symbiont implanted into his body.”

  Bast’s stomach tightened, reminding him of the Juttari technology in his own body. “Why would you do something like that?”

  “Look no farther than yourself, Colonel. Your Juttari implants have made you a super soldier. A formidable opponent on any battlefield. Diakans are not slavers, like the Juttari. Still, Diakus wanted a way to counter your effectiveness. A symbiont was genetically engineered for Captain Pike. It was able to augment his own physical capabilities. Unlike your implants, the symbiont is a living, sentient being. Diakans have long lived in harmony with their symbionts. If humans could successfully host Diakan symbionts, their augmented capabilities would make them a powerful asset for Diakus.”

  “You bastards,” said Bast, struggling to control his emotions. “You’re no better than the Juttari.”

  “On the contrary, Colonel,” said Tallos, in that infuriatingly even tone. “We are very different from the Juttari. We have not abducted any children. We have not enslaved anyone. Captain Pike volunteered for the experiment.”

  They were slavers. They were simply better at hiding it. If they implanted humans with Diakan symbionts, weren’t the human hosts now part Diakan? If the symbionts were sentient, did they not have their own loyalties? Could Diakus not command the symbionts? Could the symbionts in turn not command their human hosts? The pieces suddenly came together.

  “You lost control of the symbiont,” he said, pointing a finger at the smug Diakan.

  Tallos blinked. “We did not control the symbiont in the way you are suggesting. It is not a brain chip. The symbiont was supposed to enhance the Captain’s strategic and tactical abilities, yet the Captain behaved irrationally. In that regard the experiment failed.”

  “Because the Captain tried to rescue the Reivers?”

  “Yes.”

  Bast wondered what might be going on inside the Captain. Was there some hidden battle waging between him and his Diakan symbiont? Was he fighting for control of his own body? Bast knew how that felt. The Juttari dictated his actions his whole life. Had the symbiont done the same to Captain Pike? Tallos believed that the experiment failed. Perhaps it indicated that Captain Pike had won out over the symbiont.

  “How do you think the Captain will behave moving forward?” said Bast, still trying to understand.

  “Have you not heard what I just said? The Captain is irrational. How can I predict what he will do?”

  “Try.”

  “If the symbiont still has influence, my guess is it will see you as a threat and act accordingly.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. We rescued him and his crew.”

  “You are expecting gratitude? Interesting. That is a human way of thinking. Perhaps your humanity will prevail after all. The symbiont, however, is not encumbered by these notions. It will view things rationally. Like a Diakan. It will deduce that the only reason you have rescued the Captain and his crew is because you need to find Doctor Ellerbeck. They can convince her that it is safe to remove your brain chips. Once that task is performed, you will have no use of the Hermes crew. At that point you become a threat.”

  “The symbiont will make the Captain act first.”

  “If it still has influence over him, yes.”

  “Let’s assume that is the case. What could he do against a ship full of Chaanisar soldiers?”

  “I do not know, but I would be concerned if I were you.”

  Chapter 12

  The youthful Prime Minister of New Byzantium, Christopher Sallas, studied the stern face on the screen in front of him. The gray haired man reminded him of a derelict freighter, long past its prime.

  “I still don’t see how any of this is our concern,” said the aging Franz Stumpf, CEO of Amboss Corporation. He had an impatient look about him. One that shouted, ‘Don’t waste my time.”

  “How can you say that?” said Sallas, incredulous at Stumpf’s comment. “The Kemmar Empire has ruthlessly annexed Otan space. Soon they will be threatening human space.”

  “There is no guarantee of that, Mr. Sallas,” said Stumpf, taking on the air of a parent lecturing a child. “The Kemmar and the Otan have been neighbors for centuries without a problem. Obviously the Otan did something to provoke this response from the Kemmar.”

  “Provoke this response? We are receiving reports of orbital bombardment. They’re targeting civilian centers. Murdering millions. They’re throwing survivors into the Kemmar slave trade. This is not a response, this is an extermination.”

  “I am sure these reports are exaggerated. Probably Otan propaganda to generate sympathy for their cause.”

  Sallas did his best to keep his mouth from hanging open in disbelief. “The reports are from reliable sources. This is real, and we’re next. The colonies need to stand together. If we present a united show of force, the Kemmar will think twice about attacking us.”

  Stumpf laughed. “A united show of force? Are you joking?”

  “No, Sir, I am deadly serious. If each colony sends a contingent to the border, we would have some hope of mounting a defense against the coming attack. We may even discourage it altogether.”

  “Mr. Sallas, I realize you are young and new to your position, so I’m going to attribute your proposal to inexperience. By amassing a large force on our border we will be provoking the Kemmar. That would make their invasion a certainty.”

  Pompous asshole, thought Sallas. “I disagree. If the Kemmar see us as separate entities they will pick off our planets one by one. The Kemmar are an aggressive, expansionist species. The Otan has long acted as a natural buffer between us and the Kemmar. With that buffer gone there is nothing stopping them from annexing each of our systems.”

  “Mr. Sallas, what we need right now is diplomacy. The Kemmar Empire can be a tremendous trading partner. This is an opportunity to gain access to their markets. The last thing we should do is behave in a hostile fashion. Once the Kemmar understand our value, they will have no desire to invade.”

  “There is more at stake here than just profits,” said Sallas dismissively.

  “Let’s not turn this into an ideological debate, Mr. Sallas. Just because New Byzantium is no longer under corporate rule does not mean that profits matter any less. New Byzantium is closest to the border and stands to benefit the most from any potential trade agreement. Think of your populace.”

  “You mistake me, Sir. I am not against profit. I am against invasion by alien slavers. The Kemmar are not a peaceful species. They will attack.”

  “That is where you are mistaken. The Kemmar engage in peaceful trade with many civilizations. Why wouldn’t they do the same with us? Besides, with the exception of your planet, the rest of the colonies are commercial enterprises, not nations to be invaded.”

  Cursed man, thought Sallas. “If the Kemmar invade and New Byzantium falls, Amboss will be next.”

  “Mr. Sallas, I’m afraid you see threats where none exist. Nonetheless, I can assure you that Amboss Corporation will not be sending any forces to your border. I don’t expect any of the other corporations will do so either. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a very busy day ahead of me.”

  Stumpf ended the transmission leaving Sallas staring at a blank screen. He initiated another communication, this time with General Juneau. A hawkish face appeared on the screen. Dark, menacing eyes stared back at him.

  “I’m sorry, General. Amboss refused to send help to our border.”

  “That is unfortunate,” said Juneau.

  “Has there been any new developments?”

  “The Kemmar have tried to send scout ships past our borders, but we have intercepted and chased them off. They are testing us. Gauging our response.”

  “Is this a prelude to an attack?”

  “Not at this time. They are busy cleaning up the mess they made invading the Otan. That will keep them occupied for a long while. The border incursions are merely meant to gather
information.”

  “So we have time to plan.”

  “Time will not save us. We need more ships.”

  “Understood. I’ll keep working on the other colonies.”

  “Will that be all, Sir?” said Juneau. There was something in his tone that Sallas didn’t like. It was the way he said the word ‘Sir’, with a hint of contempt in his voice. Sallas assumed it had something to do with him being a civilian. He had never served in the military, but Juneau would have to get over it. The people elected Sallas as Prime Minister. That’s all that mattered.

  “Thank you, General. That is all,” said Sallas, cutting the communication link.

  Sallas rose and walked out of his office. Directly adjoining was a larger room with several couches and large comfortable chairs. Less formal than his office, this room was for more relaxed meetings. Sitting on one of the couches was an attractive red headed woman. Sallas sat down beside her and eased back into the soft cushions.

  The woman studied him for a moment and said, “Your meeting didn’t go well, I take it?”

  He looked into the woman’s mesmerizing eyes, and had no desire to discuss his meeting. “No, but I’ll convince them.”

  “I hope so. Our encounter with the Kemmar was not pleasant.”

  “Yes, you were lucky to come out of that alive. But enough of this unpleasantness. What do you think of our medical facilities?”

  “They are impressive.”

  Sallas laughed. “You’re kind. I’m sure we are nowhere near as advanced as what you are used to.”

  “Actually, you are more advanced than us. We rely on alien medical technology for most of our needs.”

  “That’s right. What did you call your aliens again? Dukans?”

  “Diakans,” said the redhead, smiling.

  “Diakans. I’ll try and remember next time.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t imagine we’ll be seeing any Diakans out here.”

  “You made it ‘out here’. You never know who will come next.”

  “My arrival here was an accident.”

  “A lucky accident,” said Sallas, smiling. “Now, Ms. Ellerbeck, I do believe you agreed to have dinner with me.”

  “I believe I did.”

  Sallas stood up and stretched out his hand. Dr. Elizabeth Ellerbeck took the hand and allowed Prime Minister Sallas to lead her out of the room.

  Chapter 13

  “So that’s New Byzantium,” said Kevin, looking at the distant blue planet on the viewscreen. “Looks like my kind of place. Lots of water means lots of beaches.”

  Jon glanced over at the big man. “Lots of islands too,” he said. “Maybe you’ll find something like the one you grew up on.”

  Kevin smiled, taking on a far-away look, like he was lost in a memory. “Nah. That place is one of a kind.”

  “Either way it looks like a fun place. We should stick around for a bit.” Colonel Bast was standing nearby and Jon was sure he could hear their conversation. “Colonel Bast,” said Jon, waving the man over.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “My crew hasn’t had any downtime since we left the Sol System. New Byzantium looks like a nice place. We should stick around for a while, give the crew some shore leave.”

  Bast looked confused. “Shore leave?”

  Jon shared a knowing glance with Kevin, who was already grinning at Bast’s question. “Yeah, shore leave. R and R. You know, time off to relax.”

  “But there is still a lot that needs to be done,” said Bast, in protest. “We relax when we sleep, is that not enough?”

  “Hang on a second,” said Kevin. “Are you saying that Chaanisar soldiers don’t get any time off from duties?”

  “No, why would we?”

  “You’ve never taken a vacation?” pressed Kevin.

  “No,” said Bast, still looking confused at the line of questioning.

  “Ok, well humans need downtime,” said Kevin. “We need a break from our duties every now and then. Otherwise bad things happen.”

  “I see. So if you do not give your crew vacation time they become insubordinate.”

  “They won’t become insubordinate,” said Jon, taking exception with the comment. “Some time off this ship, on a nice planet with beaches and sunshine, would rejuvenate the crew. They’ve gone through a lot of hardship. Shore leave would do them some good.”

  “It might do your crew some good too,” said Kevin.

  “My crew does not require such luxuries,” said Bast, dismissively.

  “I thought you were trying find your humanity?” asked Kevin.

  “Yes, Chief, that is true, but our implants prevent fatigue.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t need to learn how to relax. How are you going to learn about social interaction?”

  “You might have a point. I’ll consider it. Captain, if you feel your crew will benefit by taking shore leave, then I am not opposed to it.”

  “Picking up Space Force beacon,” said the tactical officer.

  “Location?” said Bast.

  “New Byzantium.”

  “See, it’s meant to be,” said Kevin. “Now we have an excuse to stick around.”

  Chapter 14

  Prime Minister Sallas sat at his desk, trying to focus on the day’s duties, but finding himself distracted. Ever since Elizabeth Ellerbeck arrived on New Byzantium he had been captivated. First with her story, then, soon after, with her. She was like something out of a fantasy. A beautiful woman from mythical Earth. It would have all been unbelievable if not for that life pod of hers.

  Of course General Juneau felt threatened by the whole thing. He wanted to interrogate her and keep her in isolation to minimize any possible threat. A typical overreaction from Juneau.

  She was not a threat. Sallas saw that straight away. She had important knowledge she could share. Advances in medicine that were well ahead of anything they had achieved. Why would you treat someone like that as a prisoner? He intervened and freed her from the military’s clasp. Another action that earned Juneau’s ire. It didn’t matter, the General was wrong, whether he chose to admit it or not.

  The more he spoke to her the more enthralled he became. He enthralled with her stories of Earth and its terrible history. How it was conquered and liberated. The more he listened, the more he realized he couldn’t get enough of her. She was fascinating, beautiful and intelligent. What more could a man want?

  A communication request brought him back to reality. The request came from one of his advisers. He accepted the link and a middle aged man appeared on his display.

  “Sir, we have picked up an unidentified warship approaching New Byzantium,” said the man.

  “A warship?” said Prime Minister Sallas, straightening in his chair. “How did it enter our system undetected?”

  “Unknown, Sir. The military is moving to intercept.”

  “Is the vessel hostile?”

  “Unknown, Sir. It is a precaution. Our forces don’t want it to get within striking distance of the planet until we know more about its intentions.”

  “That sounds reasonable. Send me a visual of this warship.”

  The translucent display split into two and an image of the vessel appeared. Sallas didn’t like what he saw. The sinister looking vessel was quite large and looked to be heavily armed. How did something like that get this close without us noticing? Sallas thought. He stared at the mystery ship in wonder when something occurred to him. With a wave of his fingers a third screen sprang up and Dr. Ellerbeck’s face appeared.

  “Hello, Mr. Sallas,” said Ellerbeck.

  “I thought I told you to call me Christopher?” said Sallas, pretending to be offended.

  “You did. I’m sorry, Christopher.” She flashed him that disarming smile and he almost forgot what he contacted her for.

  “Elizabeth, I want you to look at something and tell me if you recognize it.” Showing her the ship violated a string of security protocols, but he had a gut feeling that the appe
arance of this unidentified ship was no coincidence.

  “Sure, I’ll do my best.”

  “It’s a warship, but we have no idea where it came from. I’m sending you an image now.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Ellerbeck, her face going pale.

  “So you recognize this vessel?”

  “Yes, I do. Do you remember the stories I told you about Earth being conquered?”

  “Yes.”

  Ellerbeck looked at him with dead serious eyes. “It’s them. Christopher, the Juttari have come.”

  Chapter 15

  “Picking up multiple contacts on an intercept course,” said the tactician.

  The same alert flashed in front of his eye as the message simultaneously came in through his brain chip. With a thought he pulled up a visual of the contacts. Definitely military vessels, they were similar to the destroyers he’d faced back at DLC station.

  “Reading weapon signatures. Contacts look to be destroyer class military vessels.” The tactical officer knew that Bast had received the information directly, but announced it for the benefit of the Space Force officers on the bridge.

  “So much for shore leave,” said Chief St. Clair, resignation in his voice. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

  Bast glanced over at Captain Pike, who seemed to be studying him, rather than looking at the contacts on the viewscreen.

  “Any thoughts, Captain?” said Bast.

  “I think Kevin’s right,” said Pike. “Shore leave’s not going to happen.”

  Bast nodded and wondered if Captain Pike and Chief St. Clair behaved like this on the Hermes.

  “Maintain course,” ordered Bast. “Prepare for defensive action if needed.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You can’t really blame them,” said Pike. “You don’t have the friendliest looking ship in the galaxy.”