THE HIVE SYSTEM, THE RAMANTHIAN EMPIRE
There were 642 observatories in orbit around Hive’s sun, which sounded like a lot, but given the vastness of space were comparable to individual atoms in an ocean of black seawater. Through normally focused on scientific research, the advent of the war had caused the platforms to be “repurposed.” Now, like it or not, each tiny space station had been transformed into a two-person observation post.
So, when an alarm went off, and the onboard computer informed astronomer Hotho Ackla that the observatory’s sensors had detected an intruder, the scientist dropped what he was doing to scan the heavens for an invading fleet. Within a matter of moments a powerful telescope and other sensors were focused on the object in question, and data began to arrive. It soon became apparent that rather than a ravening horde of barbaric humans, Ackla had discovered a heretofore-undocumented short-period comet.
But, even though it was clear that the incoming object was something other than a fleet of bloodthirsty Hudathans, there was something else to be concerned about. Based on data gathered so far, the comet was going to pass within a few million units of Hive. Nothing to cause much concern, especially given the object’s small size, but still worthy of note. For that reason, Ackla added his observations to the report that he and his companion sent out every eight days, then went back to work on his real love, which was electromagnetic radiation.
The ship that constituted Moya Frenko’s body looked more like a spaceborne chemical plant than the warship it actually was. The vessel consisted of six globe-shaped tanks, positioned in two rows of three each and connected by a cylindrical cross member to form the letter H. Powerful engines, both mounted aft of the trailing tanks, provided in-system propulsion.
But, unsightly though they might be, the tanks were necessary if the Flaming Bitch was going to pass for a comet. The big globe-shaped containers held a highly pressurized mixture of gases, which, when released through nozzles and injected with dust particles, created a long tail similar to that of a comet. The guise wouldn’t hold forever, the mission planners knew that, and so did Moya. But it didn’t matter. All the Bitch had to do was penetrate far enough to close with Hive, plunge through the atmosphere, and hit the ground.
There were targets, plenty of them, but any sort of touchdown would do. The whole point of Operation Deep Strike was to scare the crap out of the bugs, force them to pull naval assets back into their home system, and boost the Confederacy’s morale.
That’s why the possibility of a full crew had been rejected in favor of a single cyborg, an officer with combat experience, who was the sole survivor of a battle with a Ramanthian cruiser. A woman who had been killed once—and wasn’t afraid to die again. The truth was that Lieutenant Commander Moya Frenko was a little crazy, a little too focused on revenge, which was exactly what the mission called for. A guidance system that cared, was capable of hate, and could improvise if called upon to do so.
And so the goddess of death fell through the emptiness of space, her long silvery hair streaming out behind her, mind focused on a pinpoint of distant light. That’s where the Ramanthians were—and that’s where Frenko was determined to go. Victory may be sweet—but payback is a bitch.
THE ERINI SYSTEM, THRAKI-HELD SPACE
In spite of the fact that the Hudathans weren’t supposed to have any ships as part of the peace pact that Doma-Sa had negotiated with the Confederacy, a few had been manufactured out beyond the rim and crewed by the offspring of veterans from the last war. The Deceiver was one such vessel, and ironically enough, the stealth technology that theoretically made her invisible to conventional sensors had been illicitly acquired from the Thrakies more than a year before.
Vanderveen felt the usual moment of nausea as the Hudathan warship dropped out of hyperspace and into the Erini system. But rather than disappear as it usually did, the hollow feeling was still there well after the transition was over, and the diplomat knew why. She was scared. And for good reason. Having secured Doma-Sa’s promise to help expose the true nature of the relationship between the Ramanthians and Thrakies, she had needed intelligence about where the clandestine conversions were taking place. Unfortunately, the diplomat didn’t have the foggiest notion of how to obtain it. Not until she spotted Wilmot and her Clone lover sneaking off for a three-hour lunch and had a moment of inspiration. After hostilities between the Clones and the Thrakies, the relationship had warmed once again, which meant that even if she couldn’t come up with the necessary information, Jonathan Alan Seebo-11,602 probably could. Especially if the right sort of pressure was applied to him.
Having lied to the ambassador and withheld information from her as well, the FSO-4 proceeded to compound her crimes by blackmailing Wilmot’s lover into using his position in the Hegemony’s armed forces to learn where the conversions might take place. For there was no greater sin within the highly regimented Clone culture than for an individual to have free breeder sex and thereby run the risk of creating a functionless life. So, rather than face the possibility that Vanderveen would rat him out, Wilmot’s lover handed over three sets of coordinates, two of which had already proven to be wrong.
Now, as the Deceiver entered Erini system, it was the diplomat’s last chance to succeed. Failure would not only bring disgrace to her, but to her father as well, given all the unethical things that she had done. So even though it made sense to be scared, the knowledge did nothing to make her feel any better, as the crew waited to see if the ship would be challenged.
But it seemed that the Thraki stealth generator that lay at the heart of the ship’s defensive capabilities was working because even though the Deceiver’s sensors registered the presence of other ships in-system, no attempt had been made to contact the Hudathan vessel. Vanderveen was seated in an enormous chair at the rear of the control room. Doma-Sa swiveled to look at her. “Everything looks good so far. Most of the system’s electromechanical activity seems to be centered around the fourth planet from the sun. We’ll start with that.”
The human nodded, felt some additional gees, and awaited her fate.
The Thraki picket ship hung motionless in space, its stealth generator on, its sensors reaching out to monitor electromechanical activity within a full quarter of the Erini system. Not because the Thrakies were expecting trouble but because the admiral with responsibility for the sector was so cautious that he often wore a belt and suspenders. A habit that seemed to have stood him in good stead since no one had ever seen the officer with his pants down.
More than that, Admiral Nukama was a crafty soul, who was well aware of the fact that rather than reserve Thraki-developed stealth technology for the military, thereby ensuring that the navy would have an important edge over potential enemies, his civilian counterparts had sold it to anyone who had sufficient money or political leverage. Which explained why Nukama not only placed obvious picket ships around Erini IV, but salted the area with vessels like the Ghost-class PSS-789 as well, hoping that intruders would focus their attention on what they could electronically “see” and thereby give themselves away.
All of which was fine in theory, except that it hadn’t worked, not yet anyway. That’s why Nubu Harl, the tech on duty, yawned when the alarm went off, flipped a series of switches, and waited for the system to clear itself. False readings were common, and there was no reason to believe that this one would be any different.
But it was different, something that quickly became apparent as a series of readings scrolled onto the screen in front of her, and Harl summoned her commanding officer. Flight Warrior Stee Hoso was an industrious sort who had a tendency to take everything a bit too seriously. Still, that was a good characteristic where the business of threat detection was concerned, and he frowned when he saw the screen. Not just because someone equipped with stealth technology was approaching Erini IV, but because the readings suggested a ship unlike anything cataloged in the Thraki data banks, which constituted a threat in and of itself. “Shall I summon the crew to bat
tle stations?” Harl inquired hopefully, eager for some excitement.
“Yes,” Hoso replied, “but leave all the weapons on standby. Let’s follow our visitor for a while and see what he’s interested in. Then we’ll take him out.”
It was a good plan, a smart plan, and Harl felt confident as she touched a button, heard the klaxon, and sent the balance of the small crew to their battle stations. The hunt was on.
Thanks to the Thraki-manufactured stealth generator, the Deceiver was able to slip between the picket ships guarding the approach to Erini IV and drop into high orbit. Meanwhile, Thraki vessels came and went all around them, seemingly unaware of the spy in their midst, as Vanderveen continued to hold her breath. The human had never been so frightened. But if the Hudathans felt the same way, the huge aliens gave no sign of it as they activated the ship’s sensors and started to collect information on the number of ships in orbit, the way they were configured, com traffic, surface installations on the planet itself, and much more. “There they are,” a tech said matter-of-factly. “The force fields must be set low, just enough to block orbital debris, but you can see the telltale shimmer.”
Vanderveen felt a sense of triumph as she looked up at the main screen and saw a much-enlarged image of three alien warships floating over the heavily marbled planetscape below. They were Sheen ships all right—and the energy fields that protected them flickered as tiny bits of matter hit them. “We’ve got them!” the human said excitedly. “You’re recording this?”
“Of course we are,” Doma-Sa replied matter-of-factly, “but I can’t say that I agree with your overall assessment. This proves the Thrakies have some ships they aren’t supposed to have, and while that might prove embarrassing, there’s no link to the Ramanthians. And that’s what we came here to find.”
Vanderveen’s previously high spirits plummeted as she realized that the Hudathan was correct. Though suspicious, there was nothing to connect the ships to the bugs other than the fact that the Ramanthians had stolen them. Something was better than nothing, but the thought of taking her evidence to higher authorities, only to have them pick it apart, was more than the diplomat could bear. She was casting about for ideas when the docking facility loomed ahead. It was huge, and the evidence she was looking for could easily be inside. “Does the Deceiver have a lifeboat?”
“Two of them,” Doma-Sa confirmed, as the Hudathan looked back over his shoulder. “Why?”
“Because there’s lots of traffic,” the human replied, pointing to a screen on which a multiplicity of vessels were being tracked. “Something small, like a lifeboat, might be able to get in closer than the Deceiver can. If we could capture video of a Ramanthian ship near the docking facility, or find some other connection, it would make all the difference when we present our report to the Senate.”
Doma-Sa understood the need even better than Vanderveen did—and was busy considering the diplomat’s idea when a tech interrupted his thoughts. “The Thrakies are onto us! I had a visual on a ship that doesn’t register on our sensors! It’s following about fifty units astern.”
Doma-Sa hit the release on his harness and stood. “Ms. Vanderveen and I will take one of the lifeboats. Break orbit the moment we depart. Lead the Thraki ship into space. You can return for us later.”
The plan had flaws, lots of them, not the least of which was allowing the Hudathan ruler to take off on a mission fit for a junior officer. The ship’s CO was about to say as much when a warning tone sounded and a ship-to-ship missile exploded against the Deceiver’s shields. The warship shook like a thing possessed. “Come on!” Doma-Sa yelled as he lurched aft. “Let’s go!”
Vanderveen released her harness, came to her feet, and followed as the Hudathan thundered down the main corridor toward the launch bay. “They’ll need a pilot!” the stealth ship’s commanding officer shouted, gesturing to his second officer. “Go!”
By the time Doma-Sa and Vanderveen entered the bay, the pilot had caught up with the unlikely pair and waved them forward. “The number two boat is best! Follow me!”
The deck tilted as the Deceiver took evasive action, shuddered as a quick flurry of energy bolts pounded the protective energy shields, and jerked as the vessel fired in self-defense. Servos whined as the lifeboat’s main hatch closed, the single in-system drive came on, and the pilot spoke into his mike. “We’re ready to launch.”
Cognizant of the fact that he would not only have to open the launch bay door, but drop the ship’s shield in order to launch the lifeboat, the commanding officer winced. But there was nothing he could do except give the necessary order, cut power to the energy field, and hope for the best.
The lifeboat was gone in the twinkling of an eye, and the launch bay door had already started to close, when a Thraki torpedo shot through the opening, hit the port bulkhead, and exploded. An orange-red flower bloomed, lived its short life, and was forever snuffed from existence. The Deceiver and her crew were gone.
Doma-Sa swore bitterly as the tiny ship darted away from the explosion and started to close with the free-floating dock. Warning lights strobed, directional signs flashed, and nav lights blinked as the Hudathan lifeboat weaved its way through the heavy traffic to close with the facility ahead. “Look!” Vanderveen said, pointing up at the main screen. “They have a Sheen ship in the dock.”
The Hudathan head of state saw that the human was correct—and saw something else as well. “Do you see the one-person sleds? The ones shaped like cylinders? Aren’t those bugs riding them?”
Vanderveen looked and saw that Doma-Sa was correct. Ramanthian space armor was just as distinctive as were the aliens themselves. “Yes! Could we capture one of them? That would give us the proof we need.”
The pilot swore silently as he conned the tiny ship between the enormous blast doors and into the dock’s brightly lit interior. His name was Reem Boka-Ka, and he wasn’t sure which passenger was worse, the little alien with the high voice or the hulking triad in the copilot’s seat. “You heard the human,” Doma-Sa said in Hudathan. “We need to capture one of those bugs.”
The word was out by then, and not only were all of the utility craft scuttling for cover, the Ramanthians were trying to clear the area as well. “Damn!” the pilot said, as two lines of energy bolts stuttered over the top of the hull. “We have a fighter on our tail!”
“Ignore him,” Doma-Sa ordered grimly. “Go after one of those sleds . . . I’ll spear the bastard with a tractor beam. Once we have him, you can make a run for it.”
Boka-Ka was going to die, he knew that now, and accepted it. He chose one of the targets, jinked to throw his pursuer off, and bored in. His quarry was crossing the pilot’s field of vision from left to right and moving rather slowly.
Ipra Tychno was one of more than fifty technical experts sent to monitor the conversion process, and because he had accidentally turned his com set off, he hadn’t heard the warnings broadcast by traffic control.
Therefore, it wasn’t until the Hudathan lifeboat was already closing in on him, and a burst of Thraki cannon fire whipped past his head, that the Ramanthian realized that something unusual was taking place. He opened the throttle on his sled and felt it surge forward, but the effort came too late. A pair of invisible arms reached out to grab on to the engineer’s sled and pull it in.
The tractor beams were normally used to moor the lifeboat to larger ships, or to manipulate small objects, but it took skill to operate two opposing joysticks and Doma-Sa made a mistake. One of the beams slipped off, Tychno fell free, and was quick to take advantage of the fact. Thrilled by his miraculous escape, and planning to take cover among the maze of installations that covered the Sheen ship’s hull, the Ramanthian steered the sled in that direction. “I lost him!” Doma-Sa shouted. “Get the bastard!”
The Thraki fighter was so close that Boka-Ka felt he had no choice but to ignore the order, pull up, and roll in behind his pursuer. Human lifeboats weren’t armed, but the Hudathan equivalents were, and the small craft had
a pair of forward-firing energy cannons. They burped coherent light, the fighter took a bolt up its tailpipe, and blew up. The lifeboat’s shields flared as it passed through the debris field and shot out the other side.
Doma-Sa could be quite unreasonable at times and slammed a massive fist onto the console. “Quit showing off! Are you deaf? I want the bug!”
Boka-Ka didn’t have time to reply. He put the ship into a tight turn, reacquired the target, and applied more power. Doma-Sa spotted the still-fleeing Ramanthian, grabbed him for a second time, and wrapped the sled in an unbreakable hug. “All right! I’ve got him! Let’s get out of here!”
The pilot didn’t need to be told twice. He put the lifeboat into a sweeping turn, headed back toward the enormous blast doors, and saw that they had started to close. The Thrakies were trying to lock the invading ship inside the dock! Boka-Ka opened the throttle all the way, bit his lower lip, and tried to gauge his chances. Would the lifeboat slip through? Or slam into solid durasteel? It was too close to call.
Vanderveen watched the slit narrow to what looked like a vertical crack. The human grabbed hold of the huge armrests and closed her eyes. There was a moment of silence followed by a grunt of acknowledgment from Doma-Sa and some rare words of praise. “Not bad.”
The human opened her eyes as the lifeboat sailed through a sixty-foot-wide gap, realized that they were through, and heaved a sigh of relief. They were alive!
Tychno, who had witnessed the entire sequence from outside the hull, legs still clamped around the cylindrical sled, discovered that he had soiled the inside of his space armor. The stench was incredible.
But the wild ride wasn’t over. The lifeboat was equipped with a hyperdrive, but it would be necessary to escape Erini IV’s gravity well before the fugitives could use it, and there were dozens of Thraki vessels in the way. Fortunately, most of them couldn’t open fire without running the risk of hitting each other. Boka-Ka took advantage of that fact for as long as he could before shooting out into space with three fighters on his tail. Then, the moment the lifeboat was clear of the planet’s gravitational influence, he stabbed a button. The fighter pilots saw the Hudathan vessel shimmer and vanish even as their missiles flew through the space it had occupied only moments before.
Legion Of The Damned - 06 - For Those Who Fell Page 24