Ruins of Empire: Blood on the Stars III

by Jay Allan

  He looked toward the display, the small sphere representing the transwarp link. He imagined the energy readings spiking again, a Confederation relief force this time. But he knew that was impossible. The Union forces showed no signs of concern for any forces pursuing them. That meant whatever small hope he might have indulged was empty. There couldn’t be any Confederation ships close enough to make a difference.

  “Captain, Lieutenant Billings reports he is ready to restart the engines. He requests your permission to proceed.”

  “By all means, Commander. At once.”

  “He advises the attempt will be dangerous.”

  “Understood, Commander. Proceed.” Anything we do now is dangerous.

  Barron leaned back, taking a breath. He knew the risk involved, and he recalled his words to Billings, his command to go ahead despite any danger.

  The ship shook once, so hard that Barron almost fell forward out of his chair. Then he felt the force almost immediately, even as the dampeners kicked in and created a reasonable simulation of normal gravity. It was a relief, in more ways than one. Barron had never liked zero g environments. He’d gotten over the space-sickness years before, but never the sense of discomfort. And the realization that he had engine power back filled him with hope…false hope, he knew, but at least he could do something.

  “Well done, Lieutenant,” he said into his comm unit. “Well done.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ve got the engines back, but only at twenty percent. Perhaps twenty-five for a few minutes…in an emergency.”

  Barron nodded, to himself as much as anyone. “Understood, Lieutenant. I want you to keep your people at it. I need all the thrust you can give me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Barron could hear in the engineer’s tone the unlikelihood of imminent improvement.

  He looked down at his workstation, running calculations. He didn’t get far before he confirmed what he had expected. Even assuming his people could somehow turn back the enemy fighters, it would take far too long to decelerate and come around, back toward the artifact. The Union battleships would be there long before Dauntless…and over a thousand FRs would land and wipe out his remaining Marines.

  He couldn’t let that happen. The Union simply could not be allowed to gain such a massive technological edge. He had to do something. But what?

  He sat, staring at the floor, his mind racing, groping for any strategy. There was no way to get the artifact away from the enemy…and no way to keep the Union forces from the ancient vessel. But perhaps he could still deny it to them, prevent them from using its technology to shatter the balance of power.

  “Atara,” he said grimly. “Get me Commander Fritz.”

  “Yes, sir.” A moment later: “On your line, Captain.”

  “Fritzie…I’m sure you’ve been monitoring the enemy ships moving into the system.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We can’t let the enemy gain control of that vessel, Fritzie.”

  “No, sir.” The engineer’s tone suggested she understood completely what that meant.

  “Those canisters, Fritzie…can you prepare a time-delayed fuse for one?”

  There was a short pause. “Captain…this ship is the most important discovery in any of our lifetimes. In the history of the Confederation. We can’t destroy…”

  “Commander Fritz, you just told me we can’t let the enemy gain control over that ship. Given a choice between destroying it or allowing the Union to gain control of that power, what would you choose?” Barron could hear utter silence around him. He knew every member of the bridge crew was listening, each no doubt with his or her own opinion. But this wasn’t a vote. He was in command, and he knew what he had to do. What his grandfather would have done.

  “You’re right, sir. We don’t have a choice.” Fritz’s voice was downcast. Forcing his master engineer to destroy such a repository of technical wonder was its own terrible cruelty. But it was the only way.

  “Do it, Fritzie. Set the fuse for…” He paused, glancing at the display, quickly calculating the shortest time for the enemy to reach the artifact. “…one hour. Then get your people and the Marines off of there.”

  There was another silence. Longer this time. “Captain, all of the shuttles were destroyed in the attack. I’m afraid that, without Dauntless, we’re stuck here.”

  Barron felt a cold horror take him. Anya Fritz, Bryan Rogan…nearly one hundred of his people. They were all stranded.

  Dauntless couldn’t get back, not with twenty percent thrust. Not in time. The enemy would be there hours before. Slowly, the terrible reality dawned on him. He wasn’t just ordering Fritz to destroy a treasure trove of ancient technology. He was ordering her to commit suicide…and kill every one of his people still on that ship.

  “I will see it done, Captain. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Fritzie…”

  “It’s fine, sir. There is no way you can get to us. Please don’t make our last sight that of Dauntless being destroyed. Go. Save the ship and the rest of the crew. I will destroy this ship.”

  Barron tried to answer, but no words would come. His crew had suffered losses in the war, bad ones. But seeing friends killed in action was one thing, abandoning them to destruction was quite another. He knew going back would only doom Dauntless, and the hundreds still alive in her crew. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  “I can get them.”

  Barron turned abruptly, looking to the source of the words. It was Andi Lafarge, standing at the door of the lift.

  “That’s out of the question. You’d never make it.”

  “Pegasus isn’t a match for Dauntless, Tyler, but she has her own secrets. And she’s a lot faster than your battleship is right now. I can get there before the Union ships and be on the way back…if I leave now.”

  Barron could feel himself being torn in two. He hated the idea of Lafarge putting herself in such danger. But the alternative was abandoning nearly a hundred of his people to certain death, without even an attempt to save them…and that was no choice at all.

  “There are almost a hundred of my people there, plus prisoners.”

  “I can cram them in the cargo hold. It won’t be comfortable, and I can’t guarantee there won’t be some bruises and broken bones, but I’ll get them back here.”

  “Captain, it’s too much of a risk. Leave us. You have to figure out how to get Dauntless out of here.” Fritz had clearly overheard his conversation with Lafarge.

  Barron turned toward the smuggler captain. “Andi, I appreciate your offer, but if we’re going to get Dauntless back to the transwarp point back toward home…”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to get back to the transwarp point, at least not the one you came through.” She paused. “I guess my nav data out here is better than yours. There’s another jump point, out this way.” She waved her arm in a pointless directional gesture. “At least there’s one on the map I’ve got.”

  “The map you’ve got?” There was frustration in his tone. “There was no transwarp link on the data your people gave the admiral.”

  She flashed him an expression he suspected might have been a smile in less dire circumstances. “Let’s just say my people like to play things close to the vest. I’ll do this to get your people back. I’ll do it for you. But don’t forget, my first officer is still over there…I’m going for him too.”

  Barron felt a wave of annoyance. He couldn’t figure her out. She was brave, and a good ally…but she was also secretive and suspicious. He’d never met anyone like her. He felt an attraction he found difficult to push aside. But he still wasn’t sure if he trusted her.

  “Go,” he said, blurting it out quickly. “But be careful…and keep your eyes on the scanners. If any enemy gets too close…”

  “I understand.” She did smile this time, just for a few seconds. “It’s nice to know you care, Tyler.” She paused for a few seconds, seeming to enjoy Ba
rron’s discomfort. Then she turned abruptly and walked across the bridge.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Free Trader Pegasus

  System Z-111 (Chrysallis)

  Deep Inside the Quarantined Zone (“The Badlands”)

  309 AC

  “Bring us around, Rina…I want to leave plenty of room between us and that flank Union ship.”

  “Yes, Andi. Engaging positioning jets now.”

  Lafarge sat in her chair, a place where she’d always felt at home. But the events of recent weeks had been so strange, they had left her feeling…different. She was undertaking an act of altruism, putting herself and her ship at great risk for no material gain. She owed the crew of Dauntless, of course. They had saved her, and whatever she was—mercenary, smuggler…pirate—Andi Lafarge paid her debts. She liked to think she would have done what she was doing for that reason alone. But she knew there was more to it.

  She’d disliked authority figures her whole life. Her experiences with government in her younger years had been of deprivation, of arrogant bureaucrats who, as far as she could see, always lived better than the masses they “served.” She’d crawled out of the squalor into which she’d been born, but she’d had to push beyond the law to do it. Her view of the Confederation’s government hadn’t improved as she’d gotten older, but it had changed, hardened. She and her people had been branded outlaws, at least of a sort, and she’d existed in the shadows, harassed, hunted even upon occasion, by the same navy she was now helping.

  It was Tyler Barron. She couldn’t come to terms with her feelings for the strange naval officer. He was everything she’d mistrusted her whole life…a strict military commander, utterly obedient to his government masters, a child of privilege, one who grew up in a huge manor house, and not on the streets as she had. But there was something about him…he was all she had always hated, but he was more too. And, whatever she felt for him, it most definitely was not hate.

  She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind, not since the moment they had met. And now, she knew, at least on some level, she was here risking her life for Tyler Barron.

  “Andi, we’ve got something on the scanner. It looks like Union fighters.”

  She turned her head sharply, focusing on Pegasus’s small display. Shit!

  “Captain Lafarge…” Dirk Timmons’s voice came through the comm unit.

  “Yes, Lieutenant Timmons…”

  “We’ve got Union fighters heading this way. We’ll take care of this group, but that’s going to pull us away, leaving you on your own. You’re going to have to come in on a wider arc toward the artifact, put more distance between Pegasus and the Union wings.”

  “I don’t know how much of an arc we can take and still get there ahead of the task force, Lieutenant.”

  There was a short silence. “I’m leaving two fighters with you, Captain. It’s the best we can do and still be sure of handling that group that’s coming. But keep your eyes on your scanners. There are a lot more enemy forces out there.”

  “Understood, Lieutenant. Good luck.” She shook her head. She could get to the artifact ahead of the enemy battleships, she was sure of that, but only if she took a fairly direct course. If the enemy fighters forced her too far out of her way…”

  “Course adjustment, Rina. Bring us another half million kilometers away from the Union formations.”

  “On it, Andi.” A short pause. “That’s going to cut our time margin down to almost nothing.”

  She took a deep breath, struggling against the g forces. She knew the maneuver would leave almost no time to load Barron’s people…and that she might very well face a dead run back to Dauntless with enemy forces on her tail. Her eyes moved back to the display. But those Union fighters were too close. She needed to put some distance between Pegasus and them.

  “Do it, Rina. See if you can coax a little more from the engines. Anything at all would help.” She knew that was a risk too, especially without Lex Righter. She hadn’t come to terms yet with the loss of her engineer…and her friend. Righter hadn’t come back with Vig. For some reason she hadn’t been able to fathom, he had decided to remain on the Union frigate, to try to get its engines back online. But the battered ship had remained right where it was, much too far away to reach. If Righter wasn’t dead, he soon would be…or he’d be a Union prisoner. Which was probably worse.

  “Andi, we’ve got more Union fighters. They’re on a vector to cut us off. We’ve got to go around.”

  Lafarge stared at the screen, running calculations in her head. But even before she had the hard numbers, the cold reality hit her. It was over. Her desperate rescue mission had failed. There was no way Pegasus could get around the new group of fighters, not before the enemy battleships reached the artifact.

  Her hands balled up in frustrated fists. Her mind raced, but there was nothing. No way at all. She felt sorrow for the doomed Marines and spacers…more than she’d ever thought she could. And for Vig, for whatever hope she’d held out that her first officer was still alive. But most of all, she felt as though she’d let Barron down. And that cut through her like a blade.

  * * *

  “We’re coming up on the artifact. I’m going to try to dock at one of the existing entry points.” The pilot’s voice was edgy. Righter might even have gone as far as to call it shaky. Ensign Lorne seemed like a decent guy, and a capable officer, but the junior pilot had never flown a Union ship before, much less one barely functional and patched together in a manner Righter himself, the architect of it all, could only call “half assed.”

  “Do your best Eugene.” Just like I did my best. It might not look like much, but it got us this far. And Lorne will get us docked. Even if it’s a little rough.

  “Hang on,” the pilot said.

  Righter watched as the massive ancient ship filled the forward display. The shuttle moved slowly, steadily toward a docking portal that looked very much like one of Union design. His eyes darted toward the control panel, and the dead comm unit. He’d tried like hell to patch something together there, but it had been to no avail. The shuttle had basic scanners, and engines that functioned—as long as Righter kept an eye on them, at least—but that was about all. Even the life support system was just working.

  The ship shook, hard, and Righter could hear the sound of metal hitting metal. Too hard. For an instant, he thought they had crashed, that the shuttle he had so carefully restored to working order had gotten all the way to the artifact, only for them to die smashing into its hull. But then he realized they had stopped, and Lorne turned around, pale as a sheet, but with a smile on his face. “We’re docked.”

  Righter exhaled loudly, only then realizing that he was soaked in sweat. He looked down at his still-shaking hands, and then he got up and turned back toward the hatch. “Well done, Eugene. Incredible.”

  “And to you,” the young officer replied, “for getting this thing back into space.”

  The two men walked to the airlock, stopping to double check that the seal was sound and the tube was pressurized.

  “So, we made it.” Clete Hargraves walked up behind the two men, the shadows of several of his Marines in the short corridor behind him. “I’m not sure I would have bet on you guys pulling it off,” the Marine said, in the coolly matter-of-fact way only a veteran like Hargraves could manage without sounding insulting. “We don’t know what’s been going on here since we left,” he said, just as emotionlessly, despite the implications of his words. “I think my people and I should go first.”

  Righter nodded. He had no problem with that. He stepped to the side. “By all means, Sergeant.”

  Hargraves nodded, and he pulled the assault rifle from his back. “Squad,” he yelled, looking behind him as he did. “Prepare to board.”

  Righter stood where he was, watching the Marines move forward, crawling through the tube. He’d been so worried about getting the shuttle functional—and keeping it that way—he hadn’t even considered what they would find on th
e artifact. The small ship’s scanners were badly damaged, but he’d gotten enough data to piece together that a major fight had been going on in the system. Had they come all this way just to end up as Union prisoners?

  Righter waited, his earlier relief dissipating, giving way to new concern. He half expected to hear the sounds of gunfire at any second, but there was nothing.

  Finally, one of Hargraves’s Marines came crawling back through the tube. He poked his head through and said, “Mr. Righter, Ensign Lorne…the sergeant wants you both to come aboard. Right away.”

  Righter could hear the urgency in the Marine’s voice, but he hadn’t seen nor heard any signs of fighting. What could it be?

  He looked at the pilot, noting the young officer wore the same confused expression. They nodded to each other, and then they followed the Marine back through the tube.

  * * *

  Lafarge watched the shuttle moving toward Pegasus. She’d been nothing short of stunned when she’d gotten the transmission from Commander Fritz. She’d been about to contact Dauntless, to face the unpleasant task of telling Tyler Barron she’d been unable to get to his people as she’d promised to do. She had dreaded that task, for reasons she only partially understood. The communique had saved her from that…but it had put her and her ship into greater danger. The personnel from the artifact had somehow all crowded onto the captured shuttle, but now she had to link up with them, and the neighborhood was getting decidedly unhealthy.

  She’d watched Timmons and his pilots on the display for a few moments. The Scarlet Eagles had torn into the Union squadron with a vengeance, destroying half the fighters in a matter of moments, and sending the rest fleeing back to reorder. The lopsided victory had gained some time, but it had been won against a tiny advance guard of interceptors, less than a tenth of the Union birds loose now in the system. More fighters were coming, even now, and Timmons’s people, as good as they were, would soon be outnumbered fivefold.