by James Edward
Nestor was completely surprised when he turned around and saw heavily armed men with weapons leveled looking at him. “What are you bastards doing here? This is my prison, and I have free reign to interrogate prisoners here.”
“Just what I wanted to hear,” Red Four said as he blew Nestor’s groin apart with a blaster. Nestor gave a high-pitched squeal, grabbed his ruined groin, and fell to his knees. Red Four walked up to Nestor, stuck the gun just under his chin, and fired again. This time his face, tongue, and lower jaw disintegrated. They left him like that, faceless. His brain could actually be seen, sexless and alive to face his own demons before it killed him. They killed the other two by cutting their throats.
The Red squad applied dressings to Sinclair and wrapped her up in a dirty blanket, the only piece of cloth that they could find. They carried her out and met up with Weatherfew and the rest of the squad. It took eight flights of the shuttle to get them all out. Luckily with all the activity going on, thanks to a diversion conducted by Red Three, they weren’t noticed. Later that night at Agency Park, there was a catastrophic explosion that destroyed the prison. Eleven days later, they entered the Nerve Center medical bay where Sinclair and a few other of the badly beaten went into isolation. Weatherfew was doctored, but his medibots had done good work in restoring his body. Many of the others were in various states of damage, and all were in recovery through the application of the medibots.
Ray watched over Sinclair by day and night. Every moan and groan, every shiver and every cry cut to his heart. This new regime was dirt, and he vowed to remove all the dirt that he could. Especially the one man that had started the ball rolling for the raping and torture of Sinclair—her husband, Dan Marsden. It was almost five days before Sinclair came out of the medibot-induced coma. She came to fighting and struggling, trying to free herself from the terror that was there when she went unconscious. It took Ray some time to settle her down. For a while she was just catatonic, not responding to anyone. The doctors finally got through to her, and she went through all the stages of grief and despair, anger and fear. Finally she started to get hold of herself and marvel that she was alive. Her uncle visited her every day and spent hours with her. But it was Ray that she looked forward to seeing; she felt good around him, and his strength bolstered her.
Two weeks had passed since Sinclair woke up. Ray was in his quarters trying to sleep when he woke to the sound of his door hissing open. He looked up to see a woman silhouetted in the light. She wore a terrycloth robe that went from her chin to her ankle. Ray knew that it was Sinclair and watched as she moved slowly over to his bed. His room was dully lit, and he could make out her features in the soft light. As his door hissed shut, he started to rise. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
“Ray,” she said in a quiet voice. “I have some ugly, terrifying images in my head, and I need to get them out by replacing them with good images. The medibots have repaired me and restored everything back to the way I was physically, but I need to get the mental images and the feelings out of my head or replace them with good ones. Will you help me with that?”
“I will do whatever you want to me to do to help you, Sin,” Ray said softly. “You know that I love you.”
Sinclair smiled and nodded. “It is because of that that I have come to you. Help me get these images out of my head.” With that, she undid the robe and stood naked before him. She then slid between the sheets and snuggled up to him. “Everything they did to me you have to do as well but with love instead of hate and malice.”
Ray and Sinclair remained in his room for most of the next day. The word went out around the Nerve Center to leave them alone. They spent the time holding and comforting. Ray learned all that they did to her and did the same but with the love and gentleness she required. He felt her welts and marveled at the way that the medibots had repaired her torn skin. On someone without the bots, the scars would be large, deep, and ugly. Now they were just raised lines that would disappear in time.
When they did emerge, they came out holding hands, and everyone knew that Sinclair was going to be fine. Everyone accepted her as part of the team and was please when she jumped in and started decoding the information that the marines had downloaded from the prison. Her computer capabilities were outstanding. She opened the downloaded files, and they found out where most of the female internees were shipped to. Ray sent a marine strike squad to try to recover as many as they could. He also found out that many of the dissenting Fleet officers were sent to the prison planet Doust.
Doust was a heavy gravity planet that was very arid with almost zero cloud cover, as there were no water bodies to speak of. The prisoners were shuttled down and released. There were many compounds on Doust that housed different levels of criminals. Most of these compounds were built to be self-sufficient, but with the ever-increasing influx of political prisoners, these were getting strained to the limit. Sometimes other inmates in compounds would band together to try to raid, but the travel distance and the local predators made that very hazardous. As well, they really didn‘t know where another compound was, as they were locked in a windowless hold when they were brought down planet side. They were told that other compounds were spotted around the planet but hundreds of miles apart.
Ray decided to free the Fleet prisoners first, and when things improved, they would go and try to get the political prisoners off. He left Sinclair in charge of trying to build a picture of the planet and where the various compounds were. He handed the rescue to Hammer, and the ship in charge would be Bruce’s cruiser, Wolf Fang, along with five Taipans that could escort the shuttles. It was also about all the cruiser could hold and still have room for the rescued people.
The loss of the cruiser Wolf Fang was a risk, but more and more Taipans were being added to the fleet. They now zipped in and about the system on missions and runs. Olaf’s crew had moved around with a few experienced crew members remaining and the rest going to take over positions on other ships so that those ships would have a modicum of experienced personnel too. Secretly, Weatherfew, Ray, Olaf, and Les were all hoping that the Fleet rescue would produce some quality crews.
Charles Redone fled the capital just two days before the government fell. He had helped most of the loyalists get passage out and get to their own planets. The president had resigned in protest and had gone into hiding. Gable Houseman had joined Redone on the ship and had sent a message to Lyn to pick up the stragglers and flee to Conrad. The recruiters like Reg Mcgreder, Lance Ridley, and Gemma Standly had already slipped into Conrad.
Commanding Fleet Admiral Fuggoret of the Governing Council of the Parliamentary Ruling Council—God, he loved the sound of that—signed the order for the Fleet to take possession of the Conrad tank farms on Omicron 2 and Sempter. They were ordered to turn the tank farms over to Great Ursa. He was now the top officer of the Fleet, and he enjoyed the prestige and the all-encompassing power. He had rubbed his hands with glee when Weatherfew was arrested and when Admirals Grewsman and Tropsman stepped down to reside in obscurity. He had used every method he could use to get the Fleet deadwood, which is what he referred to the loyal officers as, removed. Now he just arrested them and shipped them off to Doust. He then passed the order to have their family removed to Doust as well.
There were parts of the Fleet that were now in direct mutiny and had refused to comply with direct orders. These were now being hunted down and destroyed, disabled, or forced to surrender. Some were still on the run, trying to evade their pursuers. There were parts of the fleet that had returned to their home planets and were sheltered there for the moment. Fugs knew that in time they would eventually overrun those ships and planets, so while they consolidated the government and the worlds that they had under their control, he would leave those ships to orbit their planets.
He had received an order to clean out Conrad Base and take possession of all assets for the PRC. He had handed that order over to the
planners. They were now putting together a plan to break the blockade at the gate and enter the system to take control.
Senior Fleet Commander Alfred Noble sat at his desk on the PRC battleship Iroquois and read the report again. “You are to take sufficient forces as necessary to enter and subdue hostile forces in the system Zn 2091 known as Conrad Base. You are given permission to use whatever force is necessary to achieve this goal. All surviving personnel will be interred or eradicated as you feel it necessary to bring the system under the total control of the PRC. Further, all equipment, infrastructure, and surviving ships will be confiscated and placed under the control of yourself until an emissary of the PRC arrives to disperse the assets.”
Noble grinned. If he could get the system without too much damage, he could retire extremely wealthy. He would be entitled to a percent of the assets, millions if there was a viable infrastructure. Along with the order was the breakdown of what they knew of Conrad.
A weapons platform that could take a few laser and missile hits.
An ability to jam electronic, sensors, and communications.
The area was surrounded by mines, although the Great Ursa merchant ship didn’t see any.
Speculations were that there were at least a couple of warships in the system, and maybe a couple of defectors had weaseled their way in there as well.
They were believed to have a moderate infrastructure that included the weapons platform, a refinery and gas scoop, and a main center probably for administration and housing. There was no area that was deemed habitable, so all habitation would be in space.
Noble read that as far as the planning committee could gleam, Conrad had a hard outer shell with a soft inner core. There was no way that a system could be anything more than a fledgling system in just three and a half years of existence. They considered this system as easy and a stepping-stone to the established breakaway systems.
Noble started compiling a list of ships that he would take to Conrad. He deliberately kept it smaller than overwhelming to lessen the spoils’ share value. Why share with the entire fleet? He would share with some of his closest cronies.
Eleven of his buddies and partners sat around the table in the ready room of the battleship Iroquois. He laid out the plan to them and went over it a couple of times to make sure everyone knew their role. First they would stop at Omicron 2 to fuel up at the newly expropriated tank farm that Great Ursa was operating. Once full, it was a five-day flight to Benebula then another eight days to the gate at Zn2091 and into the system.
The basic fight would consist of going through the gate with weapons hot and missiles ready to fire as soon as they had a lock on the platform. They would overwhelm the platform with a thousand missiles. The battleship flanked by the heavies and then the cruisers all in a wedge would speed in and engage the broken platform and any other resistance. The light cruisers and destroyers would fire into the expected minefields, opening flight corridors so they could move fast and come in from behind the platform, either to engage it or to engage any ships that would be coming to the aid of the platform.
Noble was arrogant enough to want to pit his battleship against this upstart weapons platform. He believed that destroying the platform would open up the system for access for his other ships to take station around the fuel scoop, refinery, and habitation station holding the inhabitants and workers. His destroyers would then scour the system, rooting out miners and whatever inhabitants fled the ships. He stressed that the less damage the better. Some of the captains asked about surrendering and housing those that surrendered. Would a prison ship be dispatched to pick them up?
Noble replied that there would be no prisoners except those that could operate the refinery and fuel scoop. The rest would be packed into a freighter—he assumed there would be a few freighters around the system delivering supplies—and when packed tight, the freighter would be opened to space, killing everyone in the cargo holds. The freighter would then be put on an automatic course to intersect the white dwarf star. Problem solved.
They fleshed out who would be where and what their duties would be. Eventually they were satisfied that their plan would work. They had overwhelming force, and no one could withstand a thousand missiles. They were guaranteed success by number alone. No one but the old Fleet had heavy ships, and they certainly didn’t believe that a small system with no planet or infrastructure would be able to withstand an all-out attack by eleven Fleet warships. Noble wanted the leader of the system alive and ex-Fleet captain by the name of Ray Hunter. Noble wanted to watch him as he was spaced. One of his group reminded Noble that Hunter was ex-Fleet and was good before his dismissal. His reply was, “Good enough to take on eleven of the Fleet’s best ships?” Noble knew how to schmooze his people, and if they all thought that they were the best, then they would be happy to do whatever he said.
He held a great dinner, speaking with his captains and ensuring them that all spoils would be worked out by a percentage. The PRC was generous in awarding booty to the most loyal of their subjects. His Fleet launched from Cappa Tauri and set a course for Omicron 2, all under the watchful gaze of a cloaked frigate who fired a tight beam communiqué in the direction of the relay satellite that relay it to a few more satellites in succession, until it hit the big dish in Conrad.
A week later, the task force arrived at Omicron 2. They set up in small groups to start fueling their ships. As the ships finished fueling, they moved out and took station, waiting until all were fueled before forming their principal wedge, which would be the shape that they would come out of the gate.
On the destroyer Moa, the sensor operator noticed a scan or a pulse like a scan going over all the ships. He reported it to the XO, who studied the pulse, but as they couldn’t see any ships, they shrugged it off as a feedback loop or the combination of eleven sensor pulses bouncing around the system. They never realized that deep within the fuel holding tanks, nanobots were starting to activate. By the time the ships reached Conrad’s gate, they would be dealing with ever-increasing engine and system problems in engineering.
Again after the Fleet had launched, a tight beam signal was sent to Conrad Base by a cloaked corvette. Ray and his defenders would get the signal long before the Fleet appeared. They would be ready.
Before Alfred Noble launched the strike force, Ray had time to build and flesh out a defensive plan for the eventuality that was going to happen. He had the advantage of being very careful and being surrounded by some very smart and experienced Fleet officers who had left their arrogance and egos at the door. They had worked on this for a month before the raid was launched. Weatherfew, Olaf, Les, Early, Hammer, and a score of others had had their input. The idea to salt the last loads of fuel to Omicron 2 and Sempter was genius. The nanobots were self-regulated and would embed themselves into the sides of the tanks. As soon as fuel was pumped into the tank, they would emerge and start to reproduce themselves by taking material from the tanks themselves. Once they had a certain amount, they went dormant until they were activated by a coded program disguised as a scan pulse, and they would go about their task, which was to start dismantling the metal they had bonded to on a molecular level. By the time that it was discovered that there were problems, the nanobots would be dispersed throughout the fuel and engine systems. The only way to fix the problem would be to flush the fuel and remove every piece of equipment in the fuel and engine systems, so an entire refit. You couldn’t do a rebuild; it would have to be a replacement, which was costly and time consuming for the PRC, especially due to the troubling time and the fact that the PRC only controlled three of the five shipyards in the empire. Ray and his R&D specialists figured that they would first waste time doing a rebuild before they would need to do a replacement. More than likely they would just send the ship to the bone yards at Reno or Carver. What was even better is if you had the right code, you could also deactivate the nanobots and stop the destruction—a good plan if you had a chance t
o capture the ship.
The minefield was a passive field with the station able to switch the mines on or off. The mines were attracted to engine heat or metal of a certain tonnage. They didn’t want the mines to keep attacking an already destroyed ship. They could fly through the field and not take damage until the platform activated the field. Then it went active, and anything in the field was targeted for destruction. Because of the on-off capabilities of the field, the mines were everywhere in front of the platform and between the gate and the platform. Freighters with their shields up pushed the mines out of the way. The mines would slide back to their position as they passed. Not one freighter pilot or captain had any idea that they were rubbing up against enough firepower to turn their ships to molten junk only good for the solar forge. The picket ships knew to stay away from these areas in a battle, as the mines packed a wallop that was now three times more powerful than the AGW/PRC mines.
Because the battle would encompass eleven Fleet warships and experienced crew, Ray had stationed himself on the battleship Cul Dar, and all the heavy fleet was there at Guard One. Olaf was there in his completely rebuilt heavy cruiser, Raptor. It had the new armor and cloaking emitters, enhanced weapons and targeting systems and, best of all, improved shields. Carol Standborn with her cruiser Brontus was on picket on the outside of the platform Guard One. Ray had decided to bring Guard Two up to the gate as well, so they were sitting side by side. The shortage of ships made it necessary to have two platforms at the gate. The destroyers Mercy and Everglade were on the outside flank to protect Guard Two. Behind and between the guards was the Anaconda with sixty fighters that had the hitting power of a corvette. They would be used to engage the destroyers and cruisers. They had engines that were so powerful that they caused tactical computers fits, and fitted with inertial dampeners, they were scarily maneuverable. Their target would be the power plants of the targeted ships.