“Ronin, we recognize your ship ident. So this fleet is poising to attack or retreat? You couldn’t tell which?” The British Alliance officer on the other end asked, sounding a little amused.
“I didn’t stick around long enough to clarify, there was some weapons’ fire involved. Transmit my sensor data and short automatic report to your command centre and Triton Fleet.”
“I’ll review the data and see if it rates high enough for priority transmission,” replied the officer.
“You’ll transmit this now. Do not take time to review them before you pass them on, this is not easy reading material, it is not bathroom data for your perusal, and it’s not a field trip report.”
“Sorry, that’s not policy,” the officer replied.
“Dent, do you still have enough juice in your cells to get a high compression wormhole transmission out?” Minh-Chu asked.
“Sure, I’ve been charging since we caught something on scanners,” he replied. “I’ll transmit that report from here.”
“You are prohibited from opening any wormholes in the safe Navnet zone,” another Officer from the station said sternly.
“Wait, are you just talking to me?” Minh-Chu said. “Because I was the one talking to your officer, and I’m the senior commander for Samurai Squadron, so-“ Minh-Chu watched as Dent’s micro wormhole opened, the transmission was sent, and it closed.
“We are talking to Dent! Your wingman! The one that just broke our harbour laws!” replied the second officer.
“Now, when you say ‘We’, is that the royal ‘We’ or are you representing a collective of some kind?” Minh-Chu asked.
“Oh, you were talking to me?” Dent asked, his voice loaded down with false regret. “I’m sorry, that won’t happen again. I’m just used to reporting to my superiors as soon as I can when there’s an invasion force in the area. Again, really sorry, won’t happen again.”
Minh-Chu reviewed the data himself. If the fleet decided to attack, they would be within range of the Anchor Station in just over an hour. He started a systems check.
Chapter 11
Triton Fleet
Oz had learned to say ‘no’ early on in his training. It was one of the first things they broke into him when his real military training at the Junior Academy began. Freeground soldiers were all trained as problem solvers first. That meant looking at a problem from multiple angles, considering your options then being decisive. Normally, that meant denying a request was easy for Oz, but facing Alaka, who he had come to respect and like overall, was difficult.
“Why can’t I join Triton Fleet?” Alaka pressed. His normally passive expression was drawn into a scowl. Oz swore he could see more grey around his pointed snout. Eleven new born nafali must have been taking their toll.
“You are one of the only truly trustworthy people on the ground who I can be sure will train new crewmembers on Tamber,” Oz replied. “You’re just too important there. I know Governor Anderson has been trying to get you into the Rangers, you’d see mixed action there. You’d train people, lead ground missions, boarding missions.”
“Iloona and my daughters are taking care of the children, if that’s what you’re truly worried about, and I stay out of the Rangers so I can train people to live on Tamber, not just fight or survive there,” Alaka said, his dark brown and blonde muzzle twitching. The time he’d spent in the outdoors on Tamber had done the Nafalli a lot of good, he had time to train people in the jungle there, most of it was spent with the children he had who weren’t occupied with taking care of Illoona. As Oz understood it, that came to an end several weeks before, when Iloona gave birth to a brood of eleven tiny Nafalli children. Alaka was constantly at her side, despite what he was telling Oz. The logs were clear, Alaka spent less than four hours a day away from Iloona on average. “She would rather I go on a long hunt than spend any more time with her and our new borns. She is not accustomed to me being with her all the time. She tells me I’m ‘under foot’ or ‘always over head,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Oz recognized Lacey’s terminology right away and couldn’t help but smile a little. The woman didn’t meddle, she was a great help to Iloona, but she did know how to help people find the right words. “The problem is not that you’ll be separated from your family, not in this case,” Oz said. “I really do want you on Tamber training people, watching them to make sure we’re not taking our enemies in. You’ve already caught nine people who joined up for the wrong reasons.”
“It’s easy when you’re paying attention,” Alaka said, “The Rangers have rooted out ten times as many in a month. They are better at training people for security and law enforcement.”
“Not for the Triton, not for the extended fleet we’re building,” Oz said, gesturing out the transparent bulkhead behind him to the Barricade, a ship that wouldn’t be properly crewed for another two weeks at least. “If it makes you feel better, you’re going to have to move trainees there while they train on the Barricade’s systems, so you can get a couple weeks away that way. You can even bring your two eldest if you want them to get some technical training.”
“I will argue this with you, Oz,” Alaka growled. “I belong on the Triton. The fight you fly to is mine, the memory of my friends demand that I make myself part of it. Some of your people visited Pandem after it fell, but I lived there, my family lived there. I remember how alive it was, and all the friends who I couldn’t save. Now I can join you in avenging them and stopping the people responsible from taking control of more territory, killing more people.”
“What would your friends say about you leaving your family and an opportunity to train hundreds of people? I know you train fighters, and pickers, and people who study Tamber to live there without disturbing life there. The people in this fleet may not see it, but they’re important to our survival, they help provide a home for us to go back to, and people like you make sure it’s secure. You’re a born hunter, I’ve seen you in action, and, yes, I’ll miss you in a fight, but I’d rather have a thousand people you trained and have you guarding Haven Shore on the ground than have just one of you aboard. You can argue all you want, Alaka, but my answer won’t change.”
“I belong at the front,” Alaka said. “I am a warrior in my prime. The squad of nafalia I brought for your inspection are all great hunters.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I would be proud to have your squad aboard, representing this ship on missions, but you are needed on Tamber, “ Oz was interrupted by the alert alarm as it sounded once and the lighting tinted slightly red. “You and your squad are on a shuttle back home from the dorsal launch deck in two minutes, Alaka. You’re my friend, but you still have to follow orders.”
The Nafalli was obviously irritated, and looked around before sighing and nodding. “After the alert,” he said. “My people will be disappointed.”
“All right, let’s see what this is,” Oz said as he left the room for the bridge. Hausgeist didn’t have to communicate how urgent the situation was with more than an emotion that Oz recognized immediately. He mentally put the entire fleet on alert and sent an advisory to Kambis Navnet.
The moment the doorway to the bridge slid open he had the lead communications officer, Lieutenant Commander Liara Erron at his side. Oz was always struck at how much she looked like his mother. Her long brown hair, soft features and a usually passive manner that made her easy to talk to. She looked much younger, in her early twenties if he had to guess, but the resemblance almost had him staring from time to time. She walked with him as he walked to the command seat at the centre of the bridge. “The patrol we sent to investigate the asteroids drifting through the system may have made an attempt to contact us, but their micro-wormhole burst was jammed. All we have is noise. We’re analysing it now.”
“Signal all orbital patrols, they are to coordinate with Tamber Defence to set up a defensive screen. Contact all our in-system assets, find out who is in range of that jamming signal, and if we can scramble stealthed scout
s to that location in the next fifteen minutes. I want pilots and support crews in our new gunships, and our alert wing ready to launch in five minutes. This is not a drill.”
“Sir, are you sure? This jammed signal doesn’t conclusively indicate that we are dealing with anything serious, it could be smugglers, or illegal salvaging teams working on a wreck in that asteroid drift. Maybe one of our patrols tripped across someone trying to do something questionable, and they’re being jammed so the perpetrators can buy time to get away,” the Lieutenant Commander countered.
“That’s very specific,” Oz replied. “Do you know something I don’t, Lieutenant Commander?”
“It used to happen all the time in Soroluna, smugglers and other interesting travellers meeting with people in shadow ports, trying to make contact with people on the edge of the core world cluster.”
“Better safe than sorry, Liara,” Oz said.
“Relaying orders to Flight, Sir,” Liara said as she started back for the communications section of the bridge, a semi-circle of stations to the right of the command seating. “And I’ll keep looking at that jamming signal, I’m pretty sure the transmitter used was Regent Galactic, but a lot of neutral ships use their comm systems.”
Oz took a moment to allow Hausgiest, the Triton’s first inhabitant, to elaborate on the feeling of alarm. His voice came through the audio system on the bridge. The crew knew Hausgiest as the ship’s newly active artificial intelligence, and had no idea that it was a biological being. “Admiral, there is an unmistakable set of signatures in this jamming signal. One is Regent Galactic, just as the Lieutenant Commander has already determined, the other is Citadel, there is no doubting it.”
“Citadel?” Oz asked.
“There is a Citadel ship in that asteroid field, and it is issuing commands. There is no doubt,” the normally warm male voice of Hausgiest was strained, beyond concerned. “Somehow, the last functioning branch of Citadel has allied with Regent Galactic or the Order of Eden. There is no other explanation.”
“But that’s still a good guess,” Lieutenant Commander Erron said. “Not certain.”
“There is no other likely explanation for this combination of technologies and methods,” replied Hausgiest.
“So we are facing Earth technology?” Victor Davis asked. He had taken the place of First Officer aboard the Triton.
“A true Sol System vessel would have been able to stop any transmission at the source, so there is a doubt that there is a Sol System ship here, but whoever jammed that transmission is certainly using Sol System software. I cannot determine how old it is, or any other details, however.” Hausgiest replied. “The signal is mostly noise, there is little encoded within it.”
“Are our updates all ready to go online?” Oz asked as he took a seat in the command chair. All eyes were on him, all the crew knew were the rumours of a Citadel assassin killing people aboard before he could be stopped. Most of them feared Citadel, and were in awe of Earth.
“Anti-Gravity shielding, the new point defence systems, particle beams, and everything else except for the experimental D-Transit Drive are ready,” Agameg replied. “We are still weeks away from completing construction and testing.”
“Well, we have what’s important for now,” Commander Davis said. “I’ll work on putting our course together. Contact Governor Anderson, we might need him.”
“I’ll be on the Flight Deck,” Oz said, standing and starting for the ramp leading down into the flight control and Mission Centre. He stopped and looked to Alaka, who seemed stranded between the bridge entrance and the command seats. “Why don’t you make sure your team is geared up? Go see Chief Glassner in the armoury, your team’s custom armour may be the challenge he’s been looking for. Oh, and there are some large class weapons you might like there, just in case you need them while you’re working on Tamber.”
“A consolation for not getting my team’s chosen assignment,” Alaka said, nodding. “I accept.”
“It’s not like we’ll have time to drop you off if Citadel is in the system,” Oz said.
“Yes, Admiral,” Alaka said, even more pleased than Oz expected.
Oz continued down to the Flight Control Deck where the crew were directing ship recovery and pre-launch operations. The crew of seventy people who directed traffic and watched the status of everything in scanning range through all the hours of the day had become a group of well trained experts. At any given time a little less than a third of them were on shift, but during combat operations, fifty crowded the large, protected area. Paula Mendle, one of three Flight Operations Chiefs, stepped down from the central command seat and moved to a display station seamlessly as Oz took his place there. “Who do we have on the umbilical right now?” he asked.
“We have the Fallen Star on the end, the Malcontent on link twelve, Eva Grey on link two, and five heavy gunships armed and ready for launch down the dorsal line,” she replied. “We have the Warlord hard docked to dorsal mooring seven, and the Morrigan is on her way out of the primary landing bay. Captain Moira McFadden has offered the assistance of her ship and crew.”
Oz had forgotten that Jake was already aboard the Triton, for some reason he thought the reception was going to be later, but he double checked the time and realized that almost all the new captains in the Triton Fleet were on their way to the Triton or were already aboard to meet Valent. His nervousness at having to tell Alaka and his entire team of nafali that they weren’t going to be serving aboard the Triton had him thoroughly distracted through the entire morning. “Order all captains to their ships immediately. If they don’t get off the Triton in ten minutes, they’ll be stuck here for the duration of this alert.”
“What’s going on, Admiral?” asked a small holographic image of Governor Anderson.
“We have reason to believe that there is a Regent Galactic and Citadel presence in-system and I’m readying the Triton for a response,” Oz said. “Can you direct the defence of Tamber from the Barricade? We still don’t have a captain for her, the crew is still training, but the ship’s ready.”
“How long do I have?” Governor Anderson asked.
Being able to order a man he once called ‘Doctor’ aboard the First Light was still strange, but Oz pressed through it. “As fast as a combat shuttle will take you there. Most of the temporary crew are Rangers, you should feel right at home.”
“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there,” Governor Anderson said. The transmission ended.
“Who are we dropping from the umbilical?” Chief Paula Mendle asked. She had the hologram of the Triton’s new tail floating between them. It was part of the ship’s original design, but never added. It was a long, black multi-purpose appendage at the rear of the ship that could serve as an extended docking section, large antenna, or a focusing tube for energetic fields or beams. “Are the Fallen Star and Eva Grey ready to drop?”
“Yes, the crews have checked in,” Chief Mendle replied.
“Good, decouple and send them into the standby area. Tell them they will receive further instructions from the Barricade,” Oz replied.
“From Governor Anderson,” she said. “He’s going to take that ship for the Rangers, you know,” she muttered disapprovingly.
“I know,” Oz replied. “We have to leave something here when we go off to fight this war.”
“With it’s interdiction tech?” Chief Mendle said, shaking her head. “We haven’t finished figuring out how to adapt that to the Triton.”
“I know,” Oz said. It was a discussion they’d had before, but they didn’t have any other ships that could even hope to assist in the defence of Tamber if the British Alliance were to leave. That, and the Triton was ready, several other smaller ships were ready, if they remained behind to train the crew of the Barricade, they would spend weeks or months more out of the war. Oz had come to the conclusion that letting the Rangers take the Battlecruiser was best for everyone.
He looked upwards to the bridge and the communications sy
stem automatically routed his voice to the Captain’s seat above. “Are we ready for departure?”
“We are,” Commander Davis replied. “More data coming in, a report from Wing Commander Buu.”
“Looking at it here,” Oz said as he watched the data from Minh-Chu’s report arrive and his crew of analysts and strategists dig into it like a ravenous pack. “Hold one minute.”
“Admiral,” said an image of Jacob Valent as it came up on screen. Alice was helping him into combat armour. “Warlord command, checking in. If you don’t need him, I’d like Agameg back.”
Oz couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend in armour aboard his ship. “I’m afraid he’s busy on my bridge, Jake. My system says you have Finn aboard, don’t get greedy on me, Captain.”
“We’ll talk about this later. Should the Warlord decouple? We’ll be ready in two minutes,” he said.
“Piggyback through our wormhole in stealth mode. I’m linking you to our Flight Deck. Looks like the Samurai just found us a fight.”
“I’ll await further orders,” Jake said. “Captain Valent out.”
“Finally, some good news,” Chief Mendle said. “About time he got back in the chair.”
Oz shot her a warning look.
“What? He doesn’t need to walk to take command of a ship. If I can work here with a belly out to here,” she said, holding her hand almost a metre away from her middle, “then he can sit in his captain’s chair and get us a few more ships.”
The Chief may have lacked in sensitivity, but she was one of the best commanders Oz had ever seen. Her biggest problem overall was picking the worst time to start an argument. She rarely knew she was doing it, and Oz knew better than to be baited. “Hand all Navnet operations over to Haven Shore, please,” he said.
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