A Show of Force

by Ryk Brown

  “Fuck, not again,” Loki mumbled as he activated one of their standard, pre-programmed micro-jumps. “Jumping in three…”

  Josh pressed the manual override on the lift thrusters, then swiped his gloved finger across the thruster vector control pad, swinging all four lift thrusters as far forward as possible. He pulled his flight control stick back slightly to pitch their nose up forty-five degrees as he quickly brought the thrust levers to full power.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Loki cried out.

  “Slowing us down!”

  “Jesus!” Loki replied, hanging onto either side of his console to brace himself against the sudden deceleration.

  “Be ready on the nose turret!”

  “Jumping,” Loki announced as his visor went opaque, and the jump flash washed over them.

  Josh’s visor cleared a moment later, revealing the two Jung fighters only twenty meters below, seconds from passing under them. Without reducing power, he killed the two lift thrusters under the Falcon’s starboard side, causing the interceptor—which was still sliding along a level flight path in a forty-five degree, nose-up attitude—to spin around and backwards, its belly facing the two Jung fighters that had just passed under them. He opened up the starboard lift thrusters again, swinging all four of them downward to help maintain their altitude as well as to avoid increasing the lateral speed as they continued to slide along backwards, their nose still pitched up forty-five degrees.

  The interceptor shook violently throughout the maneuver as the airflow over its lifting body was forced to move in directions its designers had never intended. Loki twisted the control stick for their nose turret, causing it to roll over one hundred and eighty degrees in order to angle its double barrels downward toward the fleeing Jung fighters. He watched as the targeting reticle locked onto the fighter to the left and turned red. He pressed the firing button on top of the control stick, and the enemy fighter burst apart. The second fighter rolled and pitched down and away, making a run for lower altitudes. “The other one’s getting away!” Loki exclaimed. “He’s in a diving turn to starboard! He’s going for the deck! He’s getting away!”

  “The fuck he is!” Josh insisted, pulling out both power levers and letting go of the flight controls.

  Without input to the Falcon’s flight-control surfaces, they automatically returned to a neutral state, allowing the airflow over the ship’s lifting body shape to return to normal. The lack of thrust from the lifting thrusters allowed the airflow to push their nose back, but they were now flying backwards, and still being bounced about. Josh straightened his right leg, jamming his right rudder pedal as far in as possible. The Falcon’s tail slid to port, and a slight forward pressure on his flight control stick brought their nose down just enough for the aerodynamic forces acting upon their craft to swing it around into a normal, forward-facing, diving attitude along their path of flight. Josh pushed the nose down harder and rolled to port, this time jamming his left foot in to force their tail to slide hard to starboard. He again fired all four of his lift thrusters to keep them in an abnormally tight turn, one that the Falcon was never designed to perform.

  “That’s it!” Loki cried. “You’ve got him! Punch it!”

  Josh slammed the throttle for the main engines all the way forward, causing them to accelerate rapidly. He pulled out all power to the lift thrusters again, now that they were in a stable, aerodynamic flight.

  “We’re gaining on him!” Loki declared. “He’s going evasive!”

  “I can track with him…”

  “Just hold your course, Josh!” Loki insisted.

  Josh did as he was told, trusting his friend to take out the fleeing fighter.

  Loki moved the targeting reticle back and forth, trying to lock on the jinking Jung fighter as it danced about his targeting screen. “Fuck it!” he declared and opened fire, holding the button down as he swept to and fro, up and down, desperately trying to catch the bouncing fighter as they both dove toward the surface of Copora.

  “Hurry up and kill that fucker!” Josh exclaimed. “We’re running out of altitude!”

  Loki smiled, took his finger off the fire button, and pulled the gun control stick back slightly, leading the target in the direction that he would have to turn to avoid smashing into the ground below. The Jung fighter twisted slightly right and pitched up to stop its dive, sliding into Loki’s targeting reticle. The reticle flashed red, and Loki fired once more, destroying the fighter.

  “Fuck yes!” Josh cried out as he too began to pitch up to end their dive. “Nice shootin’, Tex!”

  “Damn!” Loki exclaimed as he activated their comms. “Flight, Falcon One, splash two!”

  Josh pulled their ship level, skimming the treetops for a few moments before starting to climb again.

  “Who’s Tex?” Loki wondered, still grinning from ear to ear.

  “I think he’s a friend of Lieutenant Commander Nash. She’s always sayin’ that.”

  Commander Telles gazed out the window of the combat jumper as it circled around the outskirts of the small village that surrounded the now-destroyed Jung base. Fires burned, both in the main pile of rubble in the middle of the village where the base had once stood, as well as in several of the damaged civilian structures that surrounded it. Coporan fire crews fought to contain the conflagrations in an effort to keep them from spreading to neighboring structures. Rescue teams pulled at the loose rubble, attempting to free people trapped underneath. The injured lay in the streets, friends and neighbors doing what they could to provide care.

  With the skies of Copora now free of Jung fighters, reinforcements had already arrived and had begun to provide some level of security, both in the streets of Gastien, as well as the streets of the village surrounding the former Jung base. As they circled, the second medical shuttle was already landing, and in moments would be unloading Corinairan doctors, nurses, and medical technicians, as well as thousands of initial therapeutic doses of nanites.

  Unfortunately, it would likely not be enough. Although the devastation in the village surrounding the Jung base was considerable, there was similar collateral damage at several other locations on Copora. The fires at the capitol building had jumped to nearby structures as well, all of which were still burning when the commander had left the command post in the center of the capital. The Jung air base was also devastated, although there was little loss in the way of civilian life there.

  In fact, the Ghatazhak had simultaneously attacked six Jung strongholds on this night, and there were still more than a dozen smaller bases left to deal with. However, none of them had significant forces, most of them being comm stations or supply depots. Before the morning sun rose again over this part of the moon, all of those bases would be under Alliance control, thanks to the Ghatazhak, and the Falcons.

  The combat jumper finished its perimeter flight and turned inward toward the landing site that had been set up a few hundred meters from the center of the village. As they descended, the crew chief activated the side doors, causing them to slide aft out of the way, opening either side of the main bay of the jumper to the night air. Dust swirled as the jumper set down, its lift turbines screaming. Commander Telles and Master Sergeant Jahal stepped out of the jumper and moved away at a brisk pace as the jumper immediately climbed back into the sky to begin circling the village once more.

  “Damn,” Master Sergeant Jahal said under his breath as they walked through the makeshift triage area. “The Aurora’s guns fucked this place up.”

  “What was the last casualty estimate?” Commander Telles wondered as they walked.

  “One hundred and twenty KIA, three hundred and four wounded.”

  “Nearly half our battalion,” the commander observed.

  “Closer to one third,” the master sergeant insisted, “especially considering that most of our wounded will become combat effective once their prophylactic nanite doses have a chance to do their stuff.” Master Sergeant Jahal stopped and looked around at the
civilian casualties lying on the ground, waiting for their turn to be treated. “I don’t suppose you want to know how many civilian casualties there were?”

  “Not really,” Commander Telles replied, “however, I expect that Captain Scott will want to know.”

  “Last update was just over fifteen hundred dead or unaccounted for, and twice that in wounded.”

  “Understood,” the commander said.

  “You can expect those numbers to go up over the next few hours,” the master sergeant added. “I’d be surprised if they haven’t doubled by sunup.”

  “Such is the nature of war,” Commander Telles replied.

  “If we had simply bombed the base from orbit from the start, the civilians wouldn’t have had any warning. There would be a lot more among the dead.”

  Commander Telles stopped, turning to look at the master sergeant. “And we would have far fewer dead Ghatazhak. I hope that being around the Terrans has not softened you up, Jahal.”

  “Of course not, Commander,” the master sergeant insisted. He stepped closer to the commander, looking him squarely in the eyes. “You know better.”

  “Just checking, Master Sergeant.” Commander Telles turned back to continue walking.

  “As you should, Commander.”

  “I suppose the collateral damage is of concern, in the political sense,” the commander admitted, “considering that the captain will be inviting the people of this world to join the fight against the Jung.”

  “My thinking exactly, sir,” the master sergeant agreed, following his commanding officer as they weaved their way through the triage area.

  Their course eventually took them away from the triage area, and into the masses of walking wounded, all of whom stared at the sight of the menacing-looking Ghatazhak commander and his master sergeant, in their flat-black body armor, hi-tech battle helmets, and energy rifles slung over their shoulders.

  A tired-looking old man, covered with his own blood from a loosely bandaged wound, as well as the blood of those he had tried to help along the way, looked up at the commander as he walked by. He nodded at Commander Telles. “Thank you.”

  The old man’s comment caught the Ghatazhak commander slightly off-guard. He turned and looked down at the old man as he walked. “You are welcome, sir.”

  “Now, that’s a first,” Master Sergeant Jahal mumbled as they walked. “A civilian thanking a Ghatazhak.”

  “Thank you,” another battered and bloody man sitting near the old man added.

  Commander Telles nodded at the second gentleman. More ‘thank you’s’ followed as the commander and the master sergeant continued on their path through the injured Coporans. Finally, an older woman just ahead of them called out.

  “Is it over?”

  Commander Telles stopped in his tracks, looking at the woman for a moment. “Yes, it is over, ma’am.”

  The old woman locked eyes with the commander. “Who are you?”

  Commander Telles stared at the woman for a moment, considering his answer. “We are with the Alliance.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Prince Casimir studied the documents on the data tablet. “The Glendanon has only been back for a few days, and already the Tannan propellant is being tested for use in Takaran and Corinairan propulsion systems?” Casimir looked at his advisors. “I expected it to take weeks to reach that phase.”

  “The Darvano and Savoy systems are quite eager to get their hands on that propellant. Especially the Savoy system,” Mister Ullumbrach explained. “Their prices have been controlled by our markets for some time, due to the fact that they have never had the ability to sell their products elsewhere. Now that they have that ability, they desperately need not only ships with which to deliver their goods, but the propellant to drive those ships.”

  “But neither Ancot nor Corinair yet have the shipping capacities needed,” Casimir insisted.

  “Corinair now has three jump-capable transports, including the Glendanon,” Mister Rostaur stated. “Savoy has but one. However, many of their potential customers from beyond the cluster, such as Palee, Haven, and Volon, are already in negotiations with the Ancotan trade commission. Volon has even dispatched two FTL ships in anticipation of a deal being in place prior to their arrival. They will need to be refueled, hence the urgent need for propellant that is not provided by Takaran markets.”

  “And that is because…?” Casimir asked.

  “If Takaran buyers of Ancotan grains are forced to pay higher prices in order to gain priority over, say, Volonese buyers, they will undoubtedly counter by raising the price of propellant being sold to the Ancotans, thereby increasing the cost of operation for the Ancotans.”

  “Won’t that drive up the price for everyone, including Takaran buyers?” Casimir wondered.

  “Perhaps, but the nobles do not see it that way.”

  “As usual,” Casimir mumbled, “they see only short-term profits, rather than long-term stability.”

  “I’m afraid that they are still in what we refer to as ‘imperial mode’,” Mister Rostaur explained. “The nobles are accustomed to dealing with the vagaries of Caius, which could, and often did, change overnight. Thinking ‘long-term’ was to take great financial risk.”

  Casimir sighed. “I often wonder how the nobles acquired their wealth and power to begin with, considering their limited thinking.”

  “The nobles are not stupid,” Mister Ullumbrach warned.

  “Of course not,” Casimir agreed.

  “And neither was Caius,” Mister Ullumbrach added. “He lined their coffers and kept them hooked on a steady stream of anti-aging serum. ‘Wealth and long life’… Both were reliable insurers of loyalty.”

  “Many wish to see the days of the empire return,” Mister Rostaur added, “not under Caius, of course…”

  “But definitely not under myself, either,” Casimir concluded.

  Neither of his advisors wished to verbally confirm their leader’s conclusion, but offered agreement by nod of their heads.

  “Worry not,” Casimir assured his advisors, “for I have not the desire, financial wealth, nor wealth of productive years ahead of me to lead such fools into prosperity, especially against their very will.”

  “If not you, personally, then perhaps your house?” Mister Rostaur suggested.

  “Deliza?” Casimir replied, holding back a laugh. “She is still a child. Besides, she is far more interested in matters of science than those of politics and economies.”

  “She is quite an intelligent young woman,” Mister Rostaur insisted. “I grant you, she is young. However, that will not always be the case. Besides, if she can understand astrophysics and systems engineering, then she can certainly be taught to understand socioeconomics and interstellar politics.”

  “The worst leader a society can have is one who assumes the role by requirement, rather than by choice,” Casimir said, “regardless of their qualifications. I shall not pass that burden onto my children. The people, not the nobles, of Takara will have to figure out a way to govern themselves fairly. The Takar system ceased being a ‘settlement’ centuries ago, and so did its need for a single, all powerful ruler. The concept of nobles and commoners should have been abolished long before I was born.”

  “The nobles will never willingly relinquish their positions,” Mister Ullumbrach warned.

  “Unless we can convince them that it is their only means of continued prosperity,” Casimir insisted, “perhaps even their very survival.”

  Both of Prince Casimir’s aides looked at one another, the full impact of their leader’s words evident on their faces.

  “Do not worry, gentlemen,” Casimir assured them, “I am not about to hold a gun to their heads… Although I have considered it on occasion.”

  The door to Casimir’s office opened, and a middle-aged man wearing the uniform of House Ta’Akar stepped inside. “Excuse me, sir, but you requested to see Mister Hiller?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Casimir looked at his advisors.
“Gentlemen, I thank you both. We shall meet again, tomorrow.”

  “Of course, sir,” Mister Ullumbrach, the senior of the two advisors, replied as both men rose to leave.

  The middle-aged man in uniform pulled the door open widely, allowing Mister Hiller to enter the room while Mister Ullumbrach and Mister Rostaur departed.

  “Yanni,” Casimir called, his previously serious tone suddenly becoming lighter and more friendly. Casimir had a genuine liking for the young Terran, as did, he had noticed, his oldest daughter, Deliza. The two of them spent much time together, discussing numerous topics of interest to them both. It was the first time that Casimir had ever seen his daughter interested in anything other than science and technology. He was sure that it was due in large part to the young Terran’s personality. The man was full of life and enamored with knowledge itself, as was Casimir’s daughter.

  “You wished to speak with me, sir?” Yanni asked politely as he entered the room.

  “Yes, thank you for coming. I hope I didn’t pull you from your work?”

  “Not at all, sir,” Yanni assured the prince. “There is really very little for me to do now. I believe that your people are now far more qualified to care for the cores than am I.”

  “I see,” Casimir said. He gestured toward a seating area near the big windows that overlooked the city of Answari only a few kilometers distant. “Please, sit.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Then I take it the project is going well?” Casimir inquired, already knowing the answer.

  “Quite well,” Yanni replied. “The copy process is nearly complete, and the translation of the data into Angla passed the forty percent mark just this morning. Translation into other languages, such as Takaran, will take longer, I’m afraid. Angla is so similar to English that the translation process is much faster than into other languages.”

  “We are all very excited to see what new technologies the Data Ark has preserved for us all these centuries,” Casimir exclaimed. “Much is riding on what is found on those cores.”