by Jay Allan
“Let’s hope.” Vennius turned back toward the woods. “And let’s also hope they’re not too late.” The shuttles would be vulnerable on the ground. If the pursuing forces burst out of the woods while his people were boarding, it would be a massacre.
“We’ve got to hold them back, Drusus. We need time.”
“I’ll take a picked force forward. We’ll get you the time you need.”
“No.” Vennius knew Lentius was suggesting a last stand, one from which he wouldn’t return. The Commander-Maximus had sent many valued officers on such missions before, but now something stopped him. Something beyond the fact that he’d known Lentius for decades and he liked the officer immensely. It wasn’t even emotional. It was cold in a way that troubled him, but it was there and he understood the wisdom of it. “Send the picked force, but I don’t want you to lead them.” He paused then, fearing Lentius would take the order as a lack of faith in him, he added, “I need you here, Drusus.” His words were meant to reassure the officer, but they were nothing but the truth. Vennius had no idea what was happening out there, how many officers Calavius had suborned to his treason or what lies he’d used to gain the support of others. He did need Lentius. And Aurelius and Egilius. They were all he knew he had, members of a tiny elite. Those he knew he could trust.
Lentius still had a troubled look on his face. Vennius understood. It was hard to be ordered to mount a self-sacrificial defense, but to send his soldiers and not be allowed to join them? That was hell to an officer like Drusus Lentius.
“Now, Drusus. There is no time…and send as few as possible. We need what strength we can save. Come back here immediately after you’ve set up the line.” I know this hurts you, my friend, but it is where your duty lies.
“Yes, sir.” Lentius turned and headed off, but Vennius could see the pain in his hunched shoulders.
He turned back around, looking up, just as he saw the first shuttles move into view. They were coming in fast, at sharp angles. Egilius sent his best pilots…
“Let’s move,” he shouted toward the cluster of troops standing behind him. “Get the Imperatrix up. We move her on the first shuttle. She is our first—our only—priority.” He watched for a few seconds as the soldiers reached down and pulled their ruler up from the pile of leaves they’d used as an improvised bed for her. Then he looked back, watching as the shuttles swooped down…just as fire erupted all around the makeshift camp’s perimeter. The pursuers had caught his small group.
“Faster…let’s go,” he yelled. The soldiers carrying the Imperatrix moved up next to him, pausing for a moment as the first two shuttles landed. Then Vennius waved his arm, and they ran out into the open grassland. Vennius himself turned around, sliding his rifle from his shoulder. “I want every one of you to stand firm until the Imperatrix is on one of those shuttles and off the ground,” he shouted to the soldiers around him. He could see Lentius’s forlorn hope forming up in the distance. They were fighting hard, but Vennius knew they wouldn’t hold for more than a few minutes. There were just too many troops attacking…and these weren’t outworld conscripts, they were Alliance soldiers.
He looked back. The soldiers carrying the Imperatrix were about halfway to the closest shuttle, moving as quickly as they could with the rough stretcher. He did a quick calculation in his head. They weren’t going to make it. The enemy forces would be through his defenders in a few more seconds, and if they caught his people in the open grassland it would be over.
He’d come all this way to be a few minutes late. Maybe one of the shuttles could escape, at least. He wanted to think of his efforts as a success if he got the Imperatrix out, but he knew it would be futile if he didn’t escape too. She was badly wounded, in no shape to rally loyalist forces. He knew he should go now too, that he had to be on that shuttle when it took off, but he couldn’t force himself to move. He’d sent thousands to their deaths in his career, but he’d never run away and left a command behind.
Then he saw movement, first from the perimeter, as a line of enemy troopers began to burst past his forlorn hope. And an instant later, out in the grasslands, as soldiers began pouring out of the shuttles. They were clad in full body armor, and they carried heavy autoguns.
He understood immediately. Egilius had shown more foresight that he had. He’d dispatched the shuttles, but he’d sent stormtroopers as well…and they were far more heavily armed than Vennius’s people. Or their pursuers.
“Pull back, now,” he shouted to his forces. “Fall back on the shuttles.” He turned and ran out into the open meadow, waving to the new arrivals. “This way,” he shouted. Set up a line just inside the woods.”
The soldiers ran forward, reaching Vennius’s position. An officer stopped and walked over to him, shouting as he did for the rest of the troopers to continue on.
“Commander-Maximus, I am Centurion Sintius. Commander-Princeps Egilius sends his best wishes. If you will move to the shuttles, sir, my troopers and I will hold back your enemies.”
“My thanks, Centurion, to you and your commander.” Vennius watched as his troopers raced out of the woods, moving toward the waiting shuttles. He looked back into the forest, just as Sintius’s advancing line opened up. The heavy fire tore into the woods, ripping apart brush and trees and sending chunks of shattered wood flying all around.
The attacking forces stopped cold and went to ground, as several dozen of their number were torn apart in just a few seconds by the intense fire.
“Commander-Maximus, please sir…you must come now. My orders are to see to your rescue as well as the Imperatrix’s.” Vennius looked back at the centurion, then out at the field. Half his people had already boarded the shuttles, and the rest were moving swiftly toward three of the vessels. The fourth, the one carrying the Imperatrix, had already closed its hatches. Just as Vennius’s eyes moved across the sleek vessel, its engines blasted, and a few seconds later it lifted off, rising perhaps twenty meters on its underjets, before the main thrusters fired, and it zipped off, disappearing quickly into the predawn sky.
“Please, sir,” the centurion said again, clearly caught between respect for Vennius and his need to safeguard the Commander-Maximus.
“Of course.” He took a few steps then looked back. “Begin pulling your people back, Centurion. We’re not lifting off until everyone is onboard.” He knew he was being foolish, but he didn’t care. The Imperatrix was already on her way. That part of his mission was accomplished. He’d lost enough of his people this terrible night, at the Admiralty and in the palace…and along the whole nightmarish route of retreat through the woods. He’d done what had to be done, and he wouldn’t second-guess himself. But he wasn’t leaving anybody else behind.
“I mean it, Centurion. We’re not lifting off, not a meter off the ground, until everybody is secured.” I don’t know the extent of what is happening, but I feel sure of one thing. I can’t spare one loyal soldier. Not a single one.
Chapter Eighteen
Free Trader Pegasus
Bootis System
Approaching Krakus Transwarp Point
309 AC
“Unidentified vessel, you are decelerate at once and transmit your ID beacon. You are in proscribed space. If you do not obey at once, we will be forced to take immediate action.”
Immediate action. Lafarge didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t like it at all. It was one of the things she hated about the way government—military or otherwise—operated. Why didn’t they just say what they meant? Answer us at once or we will open fire…we will destroy you. Of course, she wasn’t sure they’d destroy Pegasus. For all she disliked authority, she was willing to bet the Confederation fleet would go to considerable lengths to avoid blasting a small civilian ship that, as far as they were concerned, was most likely lost and possibly suffering from a comm failure.
Good. Think that.
She knew she’d never get close to Grimaldi, but she had to at least get into the Krakus system. Then she could blast out her message
to Striker at full power and hope, somehow, that it made it to him before some escort ship blasted her newly repaired engines to scrap. Still, the idea of playing chicken, of rushing the transit point and hoping whoever was in charge of the picket line wasn’t a trigger-happy jackboot, seemed like a terrible plan. Too bad it’s the only one I have…
“Stay on course, Vig.”
“You got it, Andi.” Merrick sounded a little nervous, but for the most part he seemed to be holding it together. Andi had been touched by her crew’s willingness to stay with her. No, not willingness…insistence. But now she wished she had left them behind as she’d initially intended. It was bad enough she was risking her life to try to save a lover whom only a week ago she’d never expected to see again, but the idea of getting Vig and the others killed too was over the top. She felt an urge to order Merrick to cut the thrusters, to yield to inspection and attempt to get her message to Striker through normal channels. She wasn’t even sure the admiral was at Grimaldi. She could take be taking the risk to get through to Krakus only to be destroyed when her transmission didn’t reach an absent Striker.
She didn’t move, though, didn’t say a word. She couldn’t stop, not even to save her crew. She had to try to reach Striker, to warn him about the assassin on Dauntless. She didn’t know anything about Sector Nine’s specific plan, but what else could it be except to assassinate the Confederation’s most famous captain? She was pretty sure Shugart didn’t know either, that he’d simply been a conduit between Sector Nine and the naval back office that got the assassin on Barron’s crew. She’d given him a good working over, and she was almost certain she’d beaten all he knew out of him.
And if he is still lying to me…if he is holding back…I will throw him out the airlock myself…
Unless Tyler…no, you won’t let that happen…
But if it does, Rolf Shugart will die a death he can’t even imagine…
“Unidentified vessel, this is your last warning. Reverse thrust and transmit your beacon, or we will open fire.”
Better…a clear threat, at least. Was that so hard?
“Vig, transmit the beacon. We’ve been in a Confederation military shipyard for months. We might be in the database, and if we are, they might be less likely to shoot at us. Maybe they’ll figure we’re a Confederation Intelligence ship or some kind of courier with a comm failure.” She knew her best bet was to plant doubt in the mind of whatever commander was making the decisions out there. She was a lot more comfortable depending on doubt, on the concern of some officer that he might open fire on a vessel that turned out to be legitimate than she was on moral hesitancy to blast an unknown vessel. She didn’t think much of the character of most people, but she knew fear and worry were strong motivators.
“Transmitting.”
“And be ready on the engines. I want full blast on a direct course to the transit point…as soon as I give the word.”
“We’re ready, Andi. Lex is down in the engine room, just in case.” Lafarge wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust outsiders. Every system appeared to be in top condition after the refit, but Vig and Lex were still clearly cautious.
She looked up at the bridge’s small screen, watching as several ships moved toward Pegasus. Still no shots, not even a warning blast. That’s right…try to figure out why Pegasus shows up in your roster sheets as just serviced at Dannith. I only need a minute or two…
“Vessel Pegasus, you are not listed on our manifest. You do not have clearance to transit to Krakus. Repeat, you do not have clearance to transit.”
No threat of shooting us…that’s good…
“Almost ready, Vig…” She leaned forward in her chair, eyes on the display, counting slowly under her breath. She couldn’t depend on the pickets waiting indefinitely. They were confused now, and that was buying time. But they would move at least one of their ships to the transit gate, where it would be in position to destroy Pegasus before she could jump. She had to get there first.
There wasn’t much doubt that blasting at full toward the gate would provoke a hostile response. Pegasus was faster than she looked, than the Confeds out there would expect her to be, all the more so after the upgrades Striker had installed, and that was an edge she planned to use to the fullest. She would have surprise, for a time, at least. Everything depended on perfect timing…making the move before the Confeds lost patience, but before it was too late.
“Almost…”
She was frozen in place, watching as Pegasus moved closer to the transit point. She wasn’t going to get there before the ships moving to intercept. Not at current acceleration. You guys probably think this is all we’ve got…
She waited, more seconds passing, her eyes darting toward the chronometer. It seemed almost impossible, but less than a minute had passed since she’d last looked. Each instant seemed to last an eternity.
“Vessel Pegasus, this is Captain Roland James, of the CFS Mustang. I order you to…”
“Now, Vig.”
Merrick didn’t respond. He just turned and hit a single button on his workstation. Everything was already prepared, the course laid in, the engines charged and ready for full output.
Lafarge felt the thrust slam into her, pushing her back against the plush cushioning of her chair. The seat was new, courtesy of the refit. She felt her stomach rolling, the result of the rapid sequencing of engine thrust, changes in output from maximum thrust to ranges within five percent of max. The evasive maneuvers were a precaution, in case Captain James had the guts to open fire. It was too easy to hit a vessel moving at fixed acceleration, so Lafarge had mixed it up, giving James’s targeting people something to think about.
“Forty seconds to transit.” Vig struggled to get the words out under the crushing force.
Lafarge could hear Captain James on the comm. The change in his tone was clear. He interpreted her actions as a threat. A ship might move at a fixed velocity and fail to answer because of a comm failure, but a desperate blast toward the jump point, and an acceleration capacity far beyond what he could have expected from a tramp freighter…it was too much.
She saw flashes on the display. The patrol ships firing at Pegasus. The sudden acceleration had provoked an immediate response.
Good for you, Captain James. She didn’t like her ship being fired upon, but she couldn’t help but respect the officer’s willingness to take decisive action. Hopefully, there are no master marksman in this “behind the lines” patrol group.
“Keep cycling through those random thrust mods, Vig. That frigate out there might not be much in a fleet action, but she’ll do a job on us if she hits. And I’m not ready to scratch the new paint. Not yet.”
The humor was as much for herself as for her companion. She was afraid, of course, as she knew Vig was. But there was nothing to be gained by acknowledging it.
“Ten more seconds, Andi…”
She held her breath, even as another ship opened fire and Pegasus shook hard from a near miss. She was counting down in her head…five, four, three…
Almost there…but it will be even worse on the other side…
She felt the strange queasy feeling she always did as Pegasus slipped into the transwarp tube. Time was hard to track in the bizarre alternate space that allowed travel at speeds effectively faster than that of light, but she knew the jump was only three lightyears. That would take half a lifetime at even the fastest speeds her ship had ever hit, but in the tube, it would be less than fifteen seconds.
It was hard to think clearly, but she tried to focus. She had to be ready to send her transmission immediately, and hope it got to Striker quickly. Then she would have to shut down her ship and surrender. At once. Unless she wanted to fight half the Confederation fleet.
She felt a hard lurch as Pegasus emerged into normal space. She turned and glared over at her number two. “All right, Vig, point this beam right at the station, and put every watt of power you can scrape up onto it.”
“Ready, Andi…on your channel.
”
She could already hear the messages coming in, stern warnings to heave to, and prepare to be boarded. The whole idea of yielding was uncomfortable for her, but this time there was no choice. She flipped the switch on her comm unit.
“Attention, Admiral Striker. To any party intercepting this communication…it must be delivered to Admiral Striker at once. Admiral, this is Andromeda Lafarge on Pegasus. I have vital information regarding Union activity. Please, Admiral…I must speak with you at once. It is a matter of life and death. Please respond to this communique.”
She recoiled at the pleading sound in her voice, but that was exactly what she was doing. It was more than her ship at stake, more than the freedom of her crew. It was Tyler’s life too. If Striker didn’t get the message right away, if she got trapped in some bureaucratic hell with a bunch of lower level functionaries…there wouldn’t be time to save Barron. There might not even be time now…
“Unidentified vessel, you are ordered to cut all thrust and reduce energy output to minimal life support levels. This is the last warning you will receive.”
She flipped the channel on her headset and took a deep breath. “Confederation patrol vessel, this is Pegasus…” The word almost stuck in her throat. “…yielding as ordered.” She ran her hand across her throat, a gesture to Vig to cut the engines and the reactor. He turned immediately and did just that.
She felt the thrust vanish almost immediately. Her body expected freefall, but instead she felt near Megara-normal gravity. She’d almost forgotten the upgraded compensators Striker had included in the repair package he’d gifted her.
“Attention Confederation patrol vessel, we have cut all thrust and reduced power output to minimal levels. Awaiting further orders.”
She sighed softly, wondering how long it would take for some underling to kick her message far enough up that it got to Striker. If Striker was even at Grimaldi.
“You will remain at zero thrust and low power output and prepare to be boarded. Any deviation from these orders will result in immediate…”