The Prisoner of Eldaron: Crimson Worlds Successors II

by Jay Allan

  “Yeah,” Wheaton replied. “Still we had to try.” She sighed. “Now we’re back at a dead end…and we’ve got to explain this when we get home.”

  “Dead end?” Elias shook his head. “No, we can’t lose this trail. Not now.”

  “What can we do? They’re coming at us hard. We’re going to have to destroy them.”

  “No.”

  “What are you talking about, Elias? What do you suggest we do? Run? Let them attack us and don’t fight back?” There was confusion in her voice, and a little resentment. She was fond of Elias Cain, too fond perhaps. But Zephyr was her ship, and she didn’t react well to anyone stepping onto her turf.

  “We disable her. We fight like pirates ourselves…and then my people board her.”

  Wheaton stared back, a look of shock in her eyes. “That’s insane, Elias. We don’t fight like pirates. They have needlers for that…we don’t. Our laser cannons aren’t precision weapons for targeting specific systems.” She started shaking her head. “No, it’s not possible. And how would your people even get there? We don’t have assault craft. You’d have to go in the regular shuttle, no armor, no breaching gear. You’d have to find an access port…and hope like hell you can dock with it. Or jury-rig something to breach the hull.”

  “It’s all doable,” he said simply, calmly.

  “Since when are you the expert in naval tactics?” she snapped back. “And even if we could manage it, you’ve only got twenty agents. We have no idea how many pirates are on that vessel…and they’re experienced at fighting aboard ships. Your people aren’t.”

  “We know they took heavy losses in the fight on Carlyle. There can’t be too many of them left, especially in fighting condition.”

  “According to Captain Marne,” she answered sharply. “Who was half crazed out of his wits when we picked him up…and who’s been in sickbay ever since, unconscious most of the time.”

  “That doesn’t mean what he told us wasn’t true. If the ship’s captain ended up in the cargo hold with time to blow the doors, you can bet there was one hell of a fight on that ship. I’m willing to bet on what Marne told us.”

  “But you want me to bet my ship to give you that chance.”

  “We started this to find out what happened, Jamie. If we don’t at least get some prisoners…” He stared at her, and she saw something in his eyes. Pleading? Desperation?

  Why is this so important to him? It can’t just be the attack on Carlyle, as costly as that was. Is he really in that much trouble back home? Does he see this as a way to put himself back in the good graces of his superiors?

  “Why?”

  He stared back at her, a confused look on his face. “Why what? Why do I want to catch this pirate?”

  “No. What are you really after?” Her voice was serious. “I know it’s more than capturing a pirate.”

  Elias paused, his eyes flashing toward Megan Berry and the other two officers on Zephyr’s bridge. Then he leaned in close and whispered, “I believe there is a major crime ring, one spanning a vast area, perhaps even all of Occupied Space.” He paused, looking at the others again before continuing, his voice even softer. “And I believe it extends into the Atlantian government in some way. Corruption…more than any of us have imagined. And possibly worse. And this pirate ship is my only lead to learn more about what is truly going on.”

  She listened to his words, felt his breath on her ear. What he was telling her was extraordinary…and dangerous. But she realized at once she believed him. Whether that was rational judgment or something else was a question she couldn’t answer. Still, if she was going to act on Elias’ suspicions, she wanted to know more. She needed to know more.

  “Ensign Berry…time to engagement range?”

  “Twenty-one minutes, Captain. Based on target’s current velocity and acceleration.” Berry sound nervous, her voice a little shaky.

  Wheaton had done everything she could to bolster the morale of her crew, but they were about to go into battle. It was natural for her people to be on edge.

  And watching me whisper up here with Elias isn’t helping. I’ve got to take this off the bridge.

  She leaned even closer. “Let’s go into my office. If you want me to risk my ship to try to take prisoners, I need to know what you know. Everything you know.”

  Elias looked like he might argue, but he kept silent and just nodded his head. Then he followed her through the hatch into the small compartment she used as an office.

  * * * * *

  “Captain, we’ve got full scanner data in. That’s an Atlantian Patrol ship. She’s got ten thousand tons displacement on us…and she outguns us too. We’ve got to reverse course and make a run for it.” Treven was edgy, and Yulich could hear the fear in his first mate’s voice.

  Black Viper’s captain sighed. Running from a Patrol ship was a dicey proposition. The Atlantian vessel not only outgunned his vessel, she probably had more thrust as well. But that wasn’t what was truly troubling him. He’d have put his navigational skills up against some random Atlantian Patrol commander’s. But even if he could outrun this enemy ship and stay out of weapons range, he knew he had no chance of evading it entirely. If he made a run for it, the Atlantian ship would follow. And with its damaged engines firing at full power, Black Viper would leave a trail leading right back to base. That was not an option, at least not one Yulich was likely to survive.

  He was already in trouble, he knew that much. If he knowingly led an enemy ship back to base, he’d lose whatever chance he had of keeping his head. The Black Flag was not a forgiving organization, and maintaining the secrecy of its pirate bases was sacrosanct. So that left only one option. Fight it out.

  “Run where?” he finally said. “She’s as fast as us, Lars, or damned close. We might outmaneuver her for a while, but we can’t outrun her, not in the long run. And if we can’t shake that vessel, we can’t go back to base.”

  Yulich stared at the plot. Black Viper would be in weapons range soon. He figured the Patrol ship had the same sized laser cannons as his vessel, though he knew the enemy had more of them. But if he was right, at least the Atlantian didn’t outrange him. His guns might even be a surprise to them. Few pirates bothered with the expense of such heavy weapons. If his people could shoot well enough, maybe they could make up the difference in turrets. It was a chance, at least.

  “You think we can take her? But we’re outgunned and we’ve got damage.” Treven was trying to hide the fear in his voice, with only marginal success.

  “You know the rules as well as I do. What do you think will happen if we run to base with a bogey on our tail?”

  Treven’s face twisted into a frown, and he stared back at Yulich. Finally, he just nodded his understanding.

  “At least this way, we’ve got some chance to win the laser duel. If we can damage her engines we can slip back out of range and really outrun her. Then we can get through one of the other warp gates and work our way back to base by some roundabout route.”

  Treven didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t offer an alternative.

  “Very well,” Yulich said, taking his first mate’s silence as acceptance. “Then let’s give ourselves every chance we can. I want the laser cannons as strong as we can make them. Get a team down there to run a bypass from the reactor around the regulator circuits. Let’s see if we can pump a few extra gigawatts through those turrets, bump our range a few thousands kilometers. We’ll give these Atlantians a little surprise.”

  “But the guns will blow out, Captain. I don’t even know if they’ll handle one shot at that throughput, but even if they do, they won’t last long.”

  “What options do we have? We can’t win a conventional fight. But if we can score a critical hit or two, we’ve got a real chance to disable her and get away…or even destroy her…”

  I wonder if blasting an Atlantian Patrol ship will enough to pull my ass out of the fire…

  “I guess it’s our best chance.” Treven still didn’t
sound too confident, but he was trying to make the best of it.

  “It’s our only chance.” Yulich’s eyes panned to the display showing the relative ship positions. “Now, let’s get it done. We’ll be in range in a few minutes…and I damned sure want us to be firing first…”

  * * * * *

  “Firing range in three minutes, Commander.” Berry’s voice was cool, calm. Wheaton was impressed with her young officer.

  “Very well, Ensign.” She paused for a second then added, “Confirm gunnery status.” She’d given the order twice already, and gotten confirmation both times. But she figured a third time wasn’t going to hurt anything. The AI had crunched the firing plots, and it was updating them in real time. At just over 60,000 klicks, her two gunners would confirm the AI’s data, possibly adjusting it slightly, the ‘spin’ a good gunner could put on a shot. In theory, the computer’s targeting solution was perfect…save for one thing. There was a crew on the other end, and they were trying like hell to fool their enemies with evasive maneuvers, last minute acceleration or deceleration. It didn’t take much to miss a target two hundred meters long from sixty thousand klicks away.

  “Gunnery reports ready to fire, Commander.”

  Wheaton just nodded, and she looked down at the chronometer. Two minutes.

  She wished for a moment that Elias was on the bridge. She didn’t need any support. Wheaton was a combat veteran and she was perfectly capable of commanding her ship against a pirate. But she didn’t like thinking about him down in the bay, crammed aboard Zephyr’s only shuttle, ready to lead his agents into battle. His people were armored, at least partially, but Hyperkev breastplates and fragile survival suits below weren’t heavy protection against firearms. She found herself wishing Elias and his people wore powered armor, like the Marines had during the Second Incursion. At least then it would take more than one lucky shot to take him down…

  Zephyr shook hard, and she felt the heavy fabric of her harness dig into her chest and abdomen. She knew immediately what had happened, and the alarms that sounded a second later only confirmed her analysis.

  “Damage report,” she snapped at Berry, as her eyes dropped to the countdown clock. Forty-five seconds to go. How? Their guns aren’t any heavier than ours. I’d swear to it.

  “Hit amidships, Commander.” Berry paused, partly buckling a bit under the stress of battle, but mostly because she was waiting for data to come in. “Primary port power coupling severed…backups engaged and functioning. Two compartments have lost containment. Structural integrity compromised in several locations. Minor fires in data center one and cargo hold two.”

  Not critical…but damned close. We dodged a bullet on that…

  Her eyes flashed back to the chronometer. Thirty seconds. Then, again: How?

  They must have overloaded their guns…probably a direct bypass to the reactor.

  It was a risky strategy, one that could cause a massive blowout at any time. But it was a damned good idea too…especially for a damaged pirate engaged and outgunned. She thought for an instant about doing the same thing, but she killed the idea almost instantly. First, it was downright reckless. And second, she didn’t have time. It would take a lot more than the…twenty seconds…left on the counter.

  No, just hope their guns take long enough to charge that we get our first shot off before they hit us again. If that backup power line fails, we’re as good as dead.

  “Ten seconds.” Berry’s voice was distant, slipping through her own thoughts.

  She leaned back in her chair, absent-mindedly checking her harness. She could almost feel the ship shaking, imagine the impact of the enemy’s next shot. Almost…

  “Five seconds.” Berry’s voice had lost its earlier tension. Whether that meant her tactical officer had conquered her fears, or just that she was numb, Wheaton didn’t know.

  She could hear the seconds counting down, though no one was reading them off.

  Three.

  She tightened her hands on the armrests of her chair.

  Two.

  She sucked in a deep breath. Her gunners were good, but they were inexperienced in actual combat. Would they hold it together, score a hit when they had to?

  One.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the vibrations as her ship’s reactor poured energy into the laser turrets. She felt a rush of relief. They’d gotten the shot off.

  She’d just turned toward her screen to check the scanning reports, but before she could focus, Zephyr shook hard and went into a wild spin, her harness slamming hard into her body as it held her in her chair. An instant later, the power went out on the bridge, plunging her into total darkness…

  Chapter 15

  “The Nest” – Black Eagles Base

  Second Moon of Eos, Eta Cassiopeiae VII

  Earthdate: 2318 AD (34 Years After the Fall)

  “You are going to tell me everything you know…that is not up for debate. The only question is how much of you will be left when you do.” Darius Cain stared at the cowering figure in front of him. His mother had brought the messenger with her. He’d told her the ring had come from Eldaron, but not much beyond that. And that wasn’t enough for Darius. Not even close.

  “You know who I am, don’t you?” His tone was pure malevolence. Normally, he wasn’t above a bit of acting, playing the role of the monster people thought he was to achieve an end. But the darkness in his voice this time was one hundred percent genuine. If there was a chance—any chance—his father had not been killed on that ship seventeen years before, he was going to find out. And he didn’t give a damn what he had to do to make it happen.

  The prisoner was cowering, hunched over on the floor in front of Darius. He was naked, his cell empty, devoid of any furniture at all. He’d been stripped and fed nothing but water and nutrition pills for three days and forced to sleep on the floor. His surroundings were all white, the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Even the door virtually disappeared into the endless white expanse when it was closed. But the man hadn’t been otherwise physically harmed. Yet.

  “Now, I am going to give you one last chance to tell me everything. And I do mean everything. Who you spoke to, what they told you word for word, your surroundings on Eldaron…everything. And remember, whatever fear you have of your Eldari contacts, they are lightyears away. You are my prisoner now, and you are in the stronghold of the Black Eagles. There is no escape from here, no hope for you at all…save my clemency. You will die if I order it. You will be tortured in ways your mind cannot even imagine—all it would take is a word from my mouth. So remember all you have heard about me—the legends, the rumors—and multiply it by ten. You are at the very gates of hell, my friend, hanging by a thread. And if you do not tell me everything I want to know, I will cut that thread and cast you into a horror you cannot imagine.”

  Darius wasn’t the sadist his many detractors made him out to be. He was normally unemotional, a consummate professional who conducted his operations as cleanly as possible. But this wasn’t business…it was personal.

  “Please, General Cain…” The prisoner’s voice was shaky, choked with tears.

  “You have very little time,” Darius said coldly. “And you are wasting it…”

  “I…I was hired to…to bring the package to Armstrong and deliver it to Sar…to your mother…” His voice trailed off.

  “Continue,” Darius said, standing over the messenger’s pathetic form like a statue, hard, unmoving.

  “I…I didn’t know what was in the box…and they told me not to look. It was still sealed when your mother opened it. Ask her! It was!”

  “Someone gave you this box then. Who?”

  “He didn’t give me his name…he wore a uniform…it was white with gold trim all over it.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Darius said. “And look up at me when you speak. You are a man, aren’t you, and not a worm?”

  The miserable creature straightened a bit, twisting his head to look up at Darius. His f
ace was wet with tears. “The whole thing was white, with gold trim down the pants, and all over the jacket.” He paused, sucking in a deep breath as he did. “And the hat,” he added, as if he’d just remembered another detail that might help satisfy his tormentor. “It was black, with more gold on it…some insignia on the front…”

  Darius nodded. He’d studied the library computer’s information on Eldaron, and the description was ringing true.

  Eldari High Guard, the Tyrant’s personal regiment. Most of his senior officers hold commissions in the unit in addition to their command postings. So, it is Eldaron, almost certainly.

  Unless someone was seriously trying to trick him…which was always possible.

  But not likely here. Too much else fits.

  “Tell me about how you were recruited…about the people you saw, the places.”

  The prisoner looked down again, the stress of maintaining Darius’ terrible gaze clearly too much for him. “I was on Eldaron. I had delivered a priority package there from Novastar Shipping. I am a native of Tarsus, a bonded courier. I’ve worked for most of the transport concerns there…”

  Darius stared down for a moment without saying a word. The prisoner’s story lined up. If the Eldari were behind this, it wouldn’t make sense to use one of their own people…too much risk he’d talk. Darius didn’t enjoy inflicting pain on people, but he had no doubt he could get whatever information he needed out of a captive…and the Eldari command would know that too.

  Better to send someone who knows nothing but what you want your enemy to discover…

  “You know I will check on that, don’t you?” His tone became even more frigid than before, like the sound of death itself. “And if I find out you are lying to me…you will beg for death every second, but it will be slow indeed in coming…” He let the threat hang in the air. His reputation had done half the work for him, but a little reminder never hurt.

  “It’s true…I swear.”

  “I believe you…but I need more. Who approached you? How did you meet them? Did you go to them or did they come to you? Describe everything you saw…and I mean right down to the pile of dogshit in the street you stepped in.” Darius’ voice was firm, but he pulled back just a little on the ominous tone. The prisoner was cooperating. “Tell me…tell me everything,” he said, leaning down until his eyes glared right at the captive’s. “Tell me all I want to know…and you may make a live prisoner yet.”