It Ain't Over... (Cole & Srexx Book 1)

by Robert M Kerns

  “Excellent, Srexx. Show Jennings how to do it.”

  A few minutes later, the bridge speakers chirped, indicating the creation of a comms channel.

  “Hello?” Cole heard a voice over the speakers. There was a little undercurrent of static, but overall, the comms channel was clear.

  “Hello,” Cole said. “My name is Cole, and I’m the captain of the ship that’s blocking the frigate’s line of sight to you.”

  “Oh, thank you so much! I’m Captain Painter of the Beauchamp. These people just wanted to escape the fighting in the Commonwealth. They’re defenseless.”

  Cole shook his head, even though Painter couldn’t see it. “They’re not defenseless, Captain. There’s a rather large battle-carrier between them and those who would kill them. I have one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “With your landing struts extended, how tall is your freighter?”

  “It’s about ten meters, I think. No one’s ever asked me that.”

  Cole grinned. “Excellent! Captain, I want you to cut your engines and drift. Can you do that for me?”

  “Uhm…I guess so. Our max acceleration isn’t enough to escape that frigate, anyway.”

  “Good. Cut your engines. I’ll call you back soon. Oh! You might want to disable your collision alarm.”

  Captain Painter’s stammered, “What,” carried over the speakers just as Cole signaled for Jennings to cut the channel. The bridge speakers chirped again, indicating the channel was closed, and Cole focused on the helm.

  “Cole,” Sasha said, “care to share with the rest of the class?”

  “We’re a carrier, Sasha; we have a flight deck. Mazzi, drop the aft shields. Jennings, alert Chief Engineer Logan that we’ll soon have a guest on the flight deck that could use his expertise.”

  Cole accessed the helm controls and nudged the engines to increase their speed—still in reverse. There were a couple sensor nodes on either side of the ingress port at the aft of the ship, and Cole created an overlay for his screen, showing the alignment of the freighter to the flight deck. Cole was so focused on his piloting, he didn’t realize Sasha was at his shoulder until she whispered in his ear.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Cole?”

  Cole was rather proud of himself that he didn’t jump at the sudden whisper at his right ear. “Relax, Sasha. I’ve done this kind of thing before.”

  “You’ve brought a freighter onto the internal flight deck of a carrier while moving at a measurable fraction of lightspeed before? Cole, you’ve had this ship about a day longer than we’ve known each other. You’ve never done this before.”

  “This exact thing, no…but I’ve done it with a freighter and a shuttle, which is pretty much the same thing.”

  Cole heard the bridge crew behind him saying something, but he didn’t care. His sole focus was getting the freighter onto the flight deck. Whatever it was could wait until then. The deck lurched and shook, throwing off Cole’s alignment with the freighter.

  “What the hell was that?” Cole growled.

  Sasha leaned close, saying, “The frigate fired on us. That was a full spread of their forward energy weapons. Outer shields are down to seventy percent.”

  “Weapons free, Mazzi,” Cole said. “Once I have the freighter locked down on the flight deck, I’ll cross their ‘T,’ and you can cut loose.”

  “I wish we had those ventral weapons you mentioned, sir!” Mazzi said.

  “Don’t worry; we will,” Cole said, his tone indicating only partial attention to the conversation.

  Cole corrected the alignment of the flight deck to the freighter and increased the rate of closure. Once Haven and Beauchamp were two hundred meters apart, Cole decreased the closure rate to five meters per second.

  “Beauchamp is hailing us, sir,” Jennings said.

  “Not now,” Cole replied. “Everybody quiet for the next two minutes.”

  Just as the stern of the freighter passed through the ingress force field of the flight deck, Cole cut the closure rate still further…down to two-point-five meters per second. Sixty seconds later, Cole accessed the flight deck subsystems and brought the magnetic grappling system online.

  “Jennings, signal Painter to extend the landing struts right now, or she will get a bump.”

  Two seconds later, Cole saw the landing struts on the freighter extend and lock in position, and he activated the magnetic grappling system, pulling the freighter down to the flight deck. The words, ‘Docking Complete,’ in bold, green letters appeared on Cole’s console. Cole let out a tense breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  “Mazzi, bring the aft shields up. I’m bringing the ship around for the starboard broadside. Jennings, contact the frigate; they have one last chance to stand down. Somebody ask Yeleth to meet the freighter’s people on the flight deck.”

  Haven’s aft shields came up on Cole’s display, and Cole keyed the commands that told the maneuvering system to maintain the ship’s vector but change its orientation on that vector. The frigate was a few degrees above the plane of the ship, so Cole programmed a slight roll to port as the ship turned to bring the starboard batteries to bear.

  The frigate’s response was a full spread from their forward batteries and four missiles. The forward batteries were lightspeed weapons, and Cole saw the shield read-out on the outer shields drop to fifty-two percent, with a two-percent bleed-through to the secondary shields. The missiles, however, had a flight-time of two minutes and thirty seconds at time of launch.

  Cole sighed. “So be it. Mazzi…light ‘em up.”

  What ensued was a textbook example of why a frigate should never take on a battleship…or in Haven’s case, a battle-carrier. Rather than a simultaneous broadside, Mazzi keyed the starboard batteries to fire in staggered pairs. The first and second pairs shredded the frigate’s forward shields into nonexistence. The third pair did the same for large sections of the frigate’s armor and hull, opening several forward compartments to space and destroying the frigate’s transmitter which canceled the jamming signal. The fourth and fifth pair of starboard batteries drilled into the frigate’s superstructure opening even more compartments to space. Life pods soon streamed from the sides of the frigate en masse, and Mazzi cancelled her programmed firing plan.

  Cole was just about to order the stand-down from battle stations when the frigate fired one of its port guns at a cluster of life pods. The shot went wild, missing every life pod on that side, but Cole glared at the sensor display.

  “Jennings, omnidirectional broadcast: all life pods are welcome to shelter behind Haven until the frigate is no longer a threat. Warn them not to pass through our lines of fire.”

  Almost in unison, every life pod on the sensor display turned and headed for Haven at a full burn.

  “Single shots, Mazzi…don’t hit those life pods. Sasha, where would the bridge be on that ship?”

  Sasha stood from the command chair and moved to stand at Mazzi’s shoulder. She gave Mazzi firing instructions, but before Mazzi could implement them, the frigate turned to port, bringing its starboard guns to bear on Haven and the life pods.

  “Captain, sensors are reporting an energy build-up,” the young man at the sensors station said. “I think they’re preparing to fire.”

  “If those life pods are clear, Mazzi…full broadside.”

  Mazzi’s fingers flew over her console, adjusting her firing plan. No more than a second later, she keyed the command to fire, and sixty-four battleship-grade energy weapons discharged. The frigate ceased to exist. A debris field and particle cloud expanded from where it used to be.

  “Stand down from battle stations,” Cole said. “Signal those life pods that they’re welcome to land on our flight deck as long as they surrender any weapons they may have aboard as soon as they land.”

  Cole brought up the sensor display and selected the station Tristan’s Gate, locking it in as their destination and programming a speed of quarter-lightsp
eed. As soon as all life pods were secured to the flight deck, Cole keyed the command to execute the navigation plan. Haven swung around and ramped up to one-fourth the speed of light. It would take them a little over twenty hours and thirty minutes to arrive.

  Cole was just about to swivel away from the helm and stand when Jennings said, “We are being hailed by an element of the Tristan’s Gate System Defense Force.”

  Cole sighed. “Put the call through.”

  The speakers chirped, and a gravelly voice said, “This is Major Hanson of the Tristan’s Gate System Defense Force. To whom am I speaking?”

  “This is Cole, Captain of the Battle-Carrier Haven.”

  “We’ve received numerous reports that an Aurelian frigate was firing on an independent freighter while ordering them to stop and prepare to be boarded, including the freighter’s distress call. Then, we come all the way out here and find no freighter and no frigate. I’m trying to put the pieces together.”

  Cole smiled. “Well, Major, when a ship fires on me without provocation after they’ve fired on a defenseless freighter full of refugees, I ensure that ship doesn’t fire on me anymore. The freighter is grappled to our flight deck, and I’m taking her into Tristan’s Gate.” Sasha gestured that she wanted to speak. Cole nodded, saying, “Major, I have someone here who would like to speak with you.”

  “Proceed.”

  “Major,” Sasha said, “by any chance, are you Major Clark Hanson?”

  “Who is this? How do you know my name?”

  “It’s Sooshie, Clark, and my sister’s here, too.”

  “Oh, thank the stars! I’ve been on pins and needles ever since the news broke. The whole clan has. How long can you stay? I know the family would love to see you and little sis, but I won’t be back at the Gate for another three to five days—maybe more—depending on what we get into with the investigation.”

  Sasha looked to Cole, who shrugged again.

  “Our stay is open-ended, Major.” Now, Sasha smirked. “Use comms code Omega-5543297 when you return to the station.”

  Silence.

  “Did you say Omega-5443297?” Hanson’s voice sounded a little strained.

  “Yes, I did, Major. Thanks for calling…gotta run.”

  The speakers chirped the tone to indicate the channel closed, and Sasha focused on Cole. “So, can I come with you to see the refugees?”

  Cole shrugged. “Sure. Mazzi, you have the bridge.”

  Sasha and Cole stopped on the hospital deck to get Talia and a few med-kits before heading for the flight deck.

  They found Captain Painter standing with a cluster of her people at the foot of a boarding ramp leading up to the freighter’s port airlock. Painter looked up at their approach and took one look at Talia, before turning to Cole with wide eyes. “No shit! You’re the Lone Marine?”

  Chapter Thirty

  En Route to Tristan’s Gate Station

  Tristan’s Gate System

  16 August 2999, 15:25 GST

  Cole smiled as he, Sasha, and Talia approached Captain Painter on the flight deck. “I can neither confirm nor deny any connection to the individual or individuals responsible for removing Talia Thyrray from the detention facility on Caledonia.”

  “Uh huh,” Painter said, her tone disbelieving. “Whatever you say, Captain. Stars know, I’m not about to argue with someone crazy enough to back his flight deck around my freighter in the middle of combat. That was insane. You know that, right?”

  Now, Cole grinned. “It worked, didn’t it? You say po-tay-to…”

  Captain Painter shook her head as she sighed before turning to Sasha.

  “Lady Thyrray,” Painter said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh…Lady Thyrray, is it?” Cole asked as he looked at Sasha and arched one eyebrow, a teasing smile curling his lips.

  “Hush, Cole,” Sasha said, “unless you’d prefer I introduce you to the captain.

  The smile vanished from Cole’s face in an instant, his eyebrows almost straight enough to match the plane of a laser in vacuum.

  “That’s what I thought,” Sasha said, smirking.

  Painter watched the by-play without expression, only saying, “There’s a story there.”

  Sasha’s smirk grew. “You have no idea, Captain. Please proceed.”

  “Uhm…so, most of the people are preparing to leave the freighter right now. The preparations seem to relax them and take their minds off their stuff now being salvage.”

  “No…their stuff isn’t salvage,” Cole interjected.

  “What?” Painter asked, her tone incredulous as she jerked her focus to Cole. “You rescued us off a ship with almost no engines and even less life support. How is that not a salvage situation?”

  “It’s not a salvage situation, because I have never claimed your freighter or its cargo…nor do I plan to.”

  “You’re…you’re serious?”

  Cole nodded.

  Tension Cole hadn’t realized Painter was holding vanished from her. Her shoulders relaxed, and her smile did not seem forced at all.

  “Captain, a very good friend of mine has been combing through your ship’s computer…everything, even the archives, passcodes, and ship’s account numbers.”

  Painter blanched.

  Cole smiled. “Relax, Painter. My friend told me about the logs for your freighter going back three generations…how all indications pointed to it being your father’s ship and his father’s before him. There’s a special strength in continuing and safe-guarding that kind of legacy, and I would fight anyone who tried to take it from you…so I certainly won’t.”

  Painter’s smile certainly wasn’t forced now, and her eyes looked just a little misty. “I…that…thank you. You have no idea what that means to me.”

  Sorrow ghosted across Cole’s expression for the briefest instant before he said, “You might lose that bet, Painter.”

  Before Painter could get too far into that thought, Sasha asked, “You were saying something about your passengers?”

  “Yes. It’s easy to tell they’ve been demoralized by the hostilities sweeping across the Commonwealth, and there’s a chance they will be…uhm…expressive in their joy and relief at seeing you. You are your father’s heir, are you not?”

  Sasha scoffed. “I suppose…but there’s been no confirmation that my parents or brother are dead, as far as I know.”

  “Perhaps not, but everything left to inherit is the most precious of all, Lady Thyrray…your family’s name and sacred honor, everything it means to be a Thyrray. I turn down more jobs than I accept, because my dad and grandfather built a name that means something in the freighter and trading circles. It’s nothing even close to what your family built, but the thought I might dishonor them or destroy what they built keeps me up at night sometimes.”

  “Mom did everything she could to keep me away from the noblesse oblige stuff that Dad was always forcing down your throat,” Talia interjected, “but what she said and the thoughts and feelings her words inspired even gave me some goosebumps.”

  Cole nodded. “It certainly does. The only reason I came down here was to tell everyone we’re about twenty-one hours from docking at Tristan’s Gate.”

  Sasha snickered. Painter glanced across at Cole and gave him a Look, but the mood was broken, which was Cole’s intention. The weight that had been settling on Sasha’s shoulders evaporated.

  “Do any of the refugees require medical attention?” Talia asked, holding up her med-kit.

  Painter shook her head. “I don’t think so. The fresh air will do more for them than anything else.”

  “Okay,” Sasha said. “Let’s go.”

  Painter led them into the group of people that had formed at the base of the boarding ramp, with more exiting the freighter as they approached. At first, no one seemed to notice—or perhaps recognize—the two women with Painter. Cole watched the refugees’ recognition of Sasha’s identity as it spread through the refugees like a wave. Within moments,
everyone had surged to their feet and was almost rushing to meet Sasha.

  Damn…we need marines, Cole thought as he and Painter moved to keep Sasha and Talia from being trampled.

  The front two ranks of the refugees seemed to regain their sense of the situation, and they slowed, pushing back against the ranks behind them pushing forward, and stopped the rush forward.

  “It’s good to see people have escaped the fighting,” Sasha said. “Do you have everything you need?”

  Mumbles of ‘less rationing’ or ‘more food’ moved back and forth among the crowd, and Sasha nodded.

  “I know. Believe me, I know. We’ll share our food and ensure everyone eats something as we deliver you to Tristan’s Gate, which we will do in about twenty-one hours Cole tells me.”

  “What do we do then?” a voice called out from the crowd.

  “Yeah!” A man in the front rank took up the sentiment. “We left everything we had back in the Commonwealth, taking only what we could carry. I’m not saying we want a handout or special treatment, but how are we supposed to start our lives over from nothing…especially when many of us are too old or have immediate responsibilities like children or spouses? All we want is a life safe from war and turmoil.”

  “Hey…she’s a Thyrray!” Another voice said to the accompaniment of cheers. “She can rebuild the Commonwealth! Maybe we can go back home someday!”

  “I’m sorry,” Sasha replied, “but I’m just one person. I can’t force all the factions that have exploded in fighting within the Commonwealth back into submission to the rule of law and the Constitution by myself, and I wouldn’t try even if I had the force of arms to succeed. Forcing anyone to accede to my wishes and desires for the Commonwealth would make me no better than the war-mongers driving the conflict right now and would just assure the Commonwealth’s collapse. The people have to want the Commonwealth to return; they have to fight those who are trying to grab power and blaming my family and so many others who have fought for so long to provide the best life possible for the people of the Commonwealth. I’m just like you; I’m just trying to stay alive the best I know how.”