by Ryk Brown
“No time,” Nathan insisted. “We need to leave as soon as possible.”
“Why?” Marcus chimed in. “What’s the hurry?”
“The Sol sector is on the verge of an all-out war with the Jung,” Nathan reminded them. “If that happens, I suspect that not only will security get a lot tighter, but there won’t be any gunships sitting around waiting for crews. They’ll be in action. We can’t afford to take that chance.”
“Then we’re leaving in three days,” Vladimir stated. “I guess we’d better get started.”
“Actually, we’re leaving within the hour,” Nathan corrected.
“Then we really need to get started.”
“We have to take Deliza to Rakuen first. More business stuff.”
“I thought you said we were in a hurry,” Josh said.
“I thought you said you were giving us three days to turn this ship back into the Mirai,” Marcus added.
“I am,” Nathan replied. “That’s how long it will take us to get to Earth.” Nathan took another drink then turned to head out of the galley. “Spin her up, fellas. I want to liftoff as soon as our passengers arrive.”
“Yes, sir,” Josh replied.
“How many passengers?” Neli asked.
“Just Jessica and Deliza,” Nathan replied. “We jump to Rakuen, take care of business, then return to the Aurora to load up and head for Earth.” Nathan moved toward the exit, pausing and turning back at the hatch. “Vlad, make sure you download everything the Aurora has on the Cobra gunships before we depart. We’re going to need as much time as possible with those flight manuals.”
“Bozhe,” Vladimir mumbled, as he rose. “This has got to be one of his craziest ideas yet.”
“You weren’t with us on the Escalon run,” Marcus replied.
* * *
Tensen Dalott stepped through the exit of the Mahtize province spaceport, onto the streets of Siniterri. He paused for a moment, looking up at the pale blue sky, breathing in the air of his birth planet. It had been nearly eight years since he had felt the warmth of the Takaran sun on his face. It felt like no other he had known. This planet was home, and always had been. And he was here to get it back, once and for all.
But there was much to be done.
Tensen followed the masses toward the nearby transit platforms. Spaceports were rarely located near the center of provincial capitals and the Mahtize spaceport was no exception. But the transit cars were swift and ran frequently, day and night. Getting to town was nothing more than dragging one’s luggage onto a tramcar and enjoying the high-speed ride through the countryside. And it would be the first time since his arrival at the orbital transfer station hours earlier, that he could relax. Now that he had been chipped by the Dusahn and was on the surface, the risk of being discovered had lessened. He was now just another Takaran going about his life under Dusahn rule.
He had been on Takara for less than an hour, but had already seen signs of Dusahn occupation. Although there had been no soldiers in the spaceport, there were signs everywhere praising the Dusahn. Their propaganda machine had wasted no time spinning up lies to get the population on their side. Tensen would have to work equally as fast, lest it would become difficult to find volunteers still willing to fight. On Takara, just like everywhere else, money and security was the price of loyalty. Give the people both, and they would tolerate considerable oppression. More so on Takara than anywhere else, because oppression was the mainstay of the noble houses. Their wealth was built on the backs of the citizens of their provinces. In exchange for their support, the noble houses rewarded them with the very security they sought, as well as the finances they needed to survive. They even gave them the hope of one day attaining noble status themselves, although such advancements were rare. But they were possible, and that was enough for the masses. At least, most of them.
The same was true under Dusahn occupation; the promise of peace and stability for all, as well as growth and opportunity. The Dusahn had played their hand masterfully, appealing first to the bank accounts of nobility. The thought of greatly increased profits due to military buildup and territorial expansion was enough to buy the loyalty of every noble house in the Takaran system. The one house that had not been willing to bow to the Dusahn had been swiftly and brutally dealt with. The message had been clear: support the Dusahn and prosper; defy them and perish.
It would be a hard sell, of that Tensen was certain. The late Casimir Ta’Akar had died trying to bring true freedom and equality to the masses. And he had only the noble houses of Takara opposing him. With the Dusahn now leading the nobles, such a dream seemed completely unattainable.
But Tensen was committed. Lesser men than he had given their lives to the cause of freedom. He would not be one to exchange his honor for a warm bed, a few credits in his pocket, and false hopes from the mouths of dishonest men who preyed on the weak.
Tensen stepped onto the next available tramcar, moving immediately to the back of the compartment. The fewer eyes facing him, the better. As soon as the car was full, the doors closed and the vehicle moved forward. It descended under the walkways outside the spaceport’s main terminal, accelerating through a long underground tunnel for several minutes before climbing up out of the ground again. As it accelerated it continued to climb, arcing right to join the main elevated tramway leading into the center of Siniterri.
Once on the main elevated tramway, the tramcar’s automated piloting systems settled the vehicle into its cruise speed, positioning it evenly between cars ahead and behind it. Tensen gazed out the window at the landscape. Reddish-brown dirt covered with patches of blue-green grasses, colorful shrubbery, and tall trees of green and gold that swayed in the afternoon breezes. He could make out the suburbs beyond the trees, as well as the Corolis mountain ranges in the distance. He remembered family trips to those mountains when he was just a boy. He had never had the chance to take his children to those mountains. Work and responsibilities had rarely allowed for such leisurely pursuits. His wife and children had understood, of course, but it did not ease his guilt.
Tensen continued to gaze out the window at the scenery streaking past him, pretending to be lost in the passing vistas as he eavesdropped on other passengers. While most of them were discussing the usual trials and tribulations of daily life, a few were commenting on the Dusahn occupation of the Pentaurus cluster. Their conversations confirmed what he already suspected; those who had accepted rule under the noble houses, and under Caius Ta’Akar, would tolerate the Dusahn in similar fashion. To them, one ruler was just as good or bad as the next, and for the most part, who was in charge did not dramatically affect their lives. To the commoners, it was the nobles who were most affected, and they were quite sure that those houses would find ways to make the occupation work in their favor. It was a timeless attitude, one that the nobles themselves had depended upon to maintain their own power.
Their mindset saddened him. Where was the Takaran pride that had settled this region of space, and turned it into one of the most populated and advanced sectors in the galaxy?
Tensen was determined to reawaken the pride within them, or die trying.
* * *
Robert Nash stepped through the narrow hatch from his cabin into the central corridor that spanned the length of the Tanna. Although it was the widest corridor on the Alliance destroyer, it was still somewhat narrow, requiring people to turn slightly sideways as they passed to avoid smacking shoulders.
Because of the relatively confined spaces, the usual passing formalities were eschewed in favor of efficiency aboard such a small ship. With a crew of only sixty-eight, most were on a first-name basis. And there just wasn’t enough room for people to always be snapping to attention and saluting every time an officer walked past. Instead, a simple nod and polite word was all one ever expected when traversing the ship’s spaces.
&n
bsp; “Morning, Captain,” the Tanna’s medical officer, Lieutenant Commander Raska, greeted as the captain started down the corridor.
“Lieutenant Commander,” Robert replied, nodding politely as he headed forward. The captain’s cabin was only one level down and one compartment aft of the Tanna’s bridge, which made for a relatively short trip. The Tanna herself was not very large. Having been upgraded from a frigate, with the addition of her side sections and extra guns, she measured in at just over eight hundred meters in length. While still the same length as her original design, the additional sections added considerable mass ,as well as a lot more firepower than she had carried as a missile frigate. It still irked Robert that his ship was originally a Jung frigate, but the addition of four plasma cannon turrets and four plasma torpedo cannons more than made up for it. And while she was smaller than a standard Jung destroyer, she was more nimble. Besides, she had a three-phase jump drive, with a one-minute jump range of eighty light years, making her able to jump from one side of Alliance space and back in a single minute, while still having enough jump energy left to put up a good fight.
All in all, the Tanna was a good ship. But at times, Robert thought fondly of his days on the original FTL scout ships. He missed the closeness of the crew, and he missed flying…although admittedly, flying of space ships was mostly button pushing. But there had been a few times, especially during his Cobra days, that he had hand-flown his ships even during combat. He had spent the last eight years in command of the Tanna and it was likely to be the last ship he would ever command. Just like Roselle, he was one of the few officers who had served with Nathan Scott under Admiral Dumar. And just like Gil, he was unlikely to receive another promotion or a larger ship to command. The Tanna was the end of the line for Robert Nash.
It was a big part of why he had not told command about the message he had received from the captain of the Aurora, Cameron Taylor. He knew he’d have to tell them at some point, and the longer he waited the deeper he was letting himself get pulled into whatever his baby sister and the others were doing in the Pentaurus cluster. If he didn’t fess up soon, he wouldn’t be able to without serious repercussions.
Robert had never been a devotee of regulations. He knew procedure had its place, but he also knew that a good leader sometimes bent the rules to get the job done. This was precisely why he had kept Captain Taylor’s message secret for nearly seven days. Cameron Taylor was known for being a stickler for the rules. For her to throw the book out completely and go against everything she stood for, there had to be one hell of a reason. And it wasn’t just because Nathan Scott had asked for her help. She suspected the same thing Robert did, that they all did: the Jung ships that had recently penetrated Sol Alliance space was actually a false-flag operation. The question was, who had conducted the operation? The Dusahn had the most to gain by renewing hostilities between the Alliance and the Jung Empire. But so did Admiral Galiardi. A renewed war would give Galiardi the support he needed to build up his military to the levels he had recommended more than a decade ago. If Galiardi managed to rebrand himself as a war hero, he would be in a perfect position to run against Dayton Scott to lead the Earth and the entire Sol Alliance.
It was a frightening thought, to be sure. Galiardi’s prolific military expertise did not make up for his lack of compassion and patience.
Robert did not believe that Galiardi had colluded with the Dusahn, but he did suspect that the admiral was withholding information from the Alliance council for his own purposes. However, there was little Robert could do about it. Galiardi was too smart and too well supported. A single utterance of suspicion would most likely land Robert in a holding cell deep within Port Terra. The people of the Alliance worlds had let their desire to be safe from Jung aggression override their common sense. Galiardi had command of an incredible amount of firepower. It was not enough to repel a full-scale Jung invasion, especially if the Jung did have jump drives, but it was powerful enough to overthrow Earth and any other Alliance worlds that might oppose the admiral.
Robert was beginning to feel like a conspiracy theorist. But still, his theories were not beyond reason, and this new train of thought left him feeling uneasy and distracted.
“Morning, Captain,” the officer of the watch greeted as Captain Nash stepped onto the Tanna’s bridge.
“How’s everything, Lieutenant?” Captain Nash asked.
“The threat board is clear, sir. The only contact the entire shift has been the comm-drone we left at the relay point you specified.”
“It came back?” Robert said, surprised.
“Yes, sir. There’s a personal message in your comms queue.”
“And the comm-drone?”
“It’s in the bay, ready for dispatch.”
“Very well,” Captain Nash stated. “I’ll be in my ready room.”
“Aye, sir.”
Captain Nash headed to the back of the bridge, passing the comms station, stepping through the hatch, and closing it behind him. He pulled the folding seat down in front of the small desk built into the bulkhead and sat down, activating his view screen. After typing in his access code, the screen came to life. He tapped the message on the screen and entered the same decryption key as before. This time, it was a text message. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “They’re crazy!” he stated out loud.
* * *
“God damn it, Kyle! I can’t fight the Jung with only ten ships! Not if they have jump drives!”
“We still don’t know for sure if they even have jump drives,” Admiral Cheggis argued.
“Do you want to bet it all on that?”
“We’re up to three hundred and sixty-eight gunships, Mike. And we’ve got another twenty waiting for crews at the Koharan gunship plant. We’re just waiting for her crews to finish up their sim training.”
“Gunships,” Galiardi grumbled. “Do you really think gunships are going to be enough if the Jung send everything they’ve got our way?”
“Six gunships have as much firepower as a single destroyer. So in essence, we’ve got about sixty destroyers.”
“Against mostly cruisers and battleships,” Admiral Galiardi reminded his friend. “If they refuse to let us take out those battle platforms first, a thousand gunships wouldn’t make a difference.”
“We’ve still got the Benakh,” Admiral Cheggis said. “Give her a few dozen gunships and they can potentially take down a battle platform.”
“Not eight of them, they can’t,” Admiral Galiardi insisted. “I need more capital ships. More destroyers would be nice but if the Jung do send their battle platforms our way, capital ships are the only real chance we have.”
“But the Jung won’t leave their core worlds unprotected.”
“Battle platforms can’t stop super KKVs,” Admiral Galiardi said.
“No, but the people who live on those worlds don’t know that. Maybe the Jung are keeping those platforms in place to show their people that they are being protected, even if it is a lie.”
“I have to find a way to convince the council that taking out those platforms is our only hope. If we sit on our hands, the Jung are going to move those platforms, regardless of what their people think. They are well aware that their battle platforms will be the first assets we target if this goes to all-out hostilities.”
“If it was the Jung who penetrated our space, then they either have jump drives or some sort of stealth,” Admiral Cheggis reminded his superior.
“It was the Jung, Kyle. You know damn well it was.”
“I’m just saying,” Kyle defended. “If it was them, they knew we wouldn’t target any frontline assets because that would be an escalation we couldn’t step back from. They’re just waiting to see what we do next. They’re trying to get us to start the war.”
“By violating our territorial space and engaging our
warships?” Admiral Galiardi challenged, not following his subordinate’s logic.
“We don’t have positive identification on any of the ships that penetrated our space,” Admiral Cheggis reminded him. “Therefore, they still have plausible deniability. If we take out their battle platforms that will be an overt act of war and it will be on our part.”
“I don’t care,” Admiral Galiardi insisted.
“Well you should…sir. Because if the Jung do have a lot more ships out there, those platforms will be the least of our worries. We could be forced to defend against a never-ending stream of warships.”
“I’d rather bet on known assets than possible ones,” Galiardi insisted. “We know we can’t stop those battle platforms; not with ten warships and a few hundred gunships.” Galiardi sighed, sitting back down in his chair. “I’m betting the Jung don’t have jump drives, but they do have some new stealth capability.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?” Admiral Cheggis wondered.
“Because if the Jung did have jump drives, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
CHAPTER FIVE
In front of Commander Bastyan’s desk, Ensigns Walsh and Lowen stood at attention as the commander studied the data pad in her hands. It was the third time they had been called into her office since they had started flight training three months ago.
“Repeatedly demonstrates a lack of understanding of the regulations and respect for operating procedures regarding flight operations of the Cobra gunship.” The commander set her data pad down and sighed. “You two just keep coming up with new ways to piss off your instructors, don’t you? Is it a hobby of yours, or something?”
“No, sir,” Ensign Walsh replied.
“Just seems to happen, sir,” Ensign Lowen added.
“Just seems to happen,” the commander muttered. “Perhaps, if you followed procedures, it wouldn’t happen.”