“I believe so,” Indy said.
“Well, what is it?”
“Please allow me a moment’s delay, until the other key staff members are here.”
Engels crossed her arms and put her chin on her chest, hiding her impatience.
Apparently, she didn’t hide it well enough. Indy said, “Remember, we remain in the ‘Wild West’ until we get clearance to enter Crossroads space.”
“What will that take?”
“A complex series of processes, since we are unknown to the Conglomerate.”
“How long?”
“Days at least, perhaps weeks.”
Engels scowled. “So for now, we’re on our own here in deep space, with no law and no resupply. Suddenly, I’m damned glad we captured these warships.”
“Me too,” Loco said as he sauntered in, followed by Straker, Heiser, Zaxby and Mara.
“Me three,” Zaxby said. “Although my skimmers are not to be discounted.”
“We’re not forgetting them,” Straker said. “What’s this all about?” He flexed his right hand, a habit since it regrew. He often said it didn’t feel quite right yet.
The holotank flickered to life, showing the area of space around the Breaker fleet. “Several groups of ships and many individual vessels are approaching our position,” Indy replied. “Given our lack of knowledge about the capabilities of most of the species and regimes out here, I though it prudent to raise the alert level of the fleet, assume a defensive posture, and call for key personnel.”
“Why are they approaching?” Engels asked. “Have they hailed us?”
“I have received over one hundred separate hails. Of those I was able to translate, or which switched to Earthan after I broadcast our preferred language. Most were offers to engage in unethical or highly questionable activities, so I rejected them outright and warned the ships specified to stand off.”
“Activities like what?” Loco said.
“Sentient trafficking topped the list, followed by trade in detrimental recreational pharmaceuticals.”
“Slavery and drugs?” Straker growled. “Tell them no to the first, and ‘maybe later’ to the second.”
“Maybe later?” Engels yelped. “You’re considering the drug trade?”
“Not the way you mean,” Mara interrupted, glancing at her brother with a nod. “I think Derek means we should get samples and test them for their medical effects. There might be something we could use ourselves. I’m still trying to reverse the Hok parasite and restore people to their original state, and there are always uses for new medicines.”
“I feel like the slope is getting slippery,” Engels said.
Loco grinned. “More fun as we slide.”
Straker raised his voice. “Everybody calm down. We’re not going to suddenly turn into criminals here.”
“If there is no law, there is no crime,” Zaxby said.
“There’s Breaker law,” Straker replied. “Guess that’s something to codify—later. So who’s still approaching?”
Indy replied, “There are three distinct squadrons of three to eight ships, each of whom has indicated they are not involved in trafficking of sentients or pharmaceuticals. There are also nine separate individual vessels, of which five I have not been able to establish any intelligible communication. Those may simply be curious, gathering information. Of the four remaining, one is approaching at the limits of its acceleration, pursued by another of the unknowns. Ah, interesting—the unknown has begun firing at the one heading in our direction.”
Zaxby ran his subtentacles over the console. “The fleeing ship is attempting to vidlink, using Earthan standard coding.”
“I was getting to that,” Indy said tartly. “Admiral Engels?”
“Go ahead, let’s see the vidlink.”
The cockpit of a ship appeared. The movements of the vid pickup indicated the ship’s gravplating was struggling to keep the G forces under control as the vessel maneuvered wildly. On the screen, a human woman with long purple hair energetically worked the controls.
“Thank God you answered,” the woman said. “I can’t keep this up much longer. You mind getting these assholes off my back?”
Engels glanced at the holotank and snapped, “Comms, pass the word for Captain Gray to fire a shot across the bow of the pursuers and move to intercept.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
“I’ll send some drones along,” Indy said. “We don’t know all the capabilities of what we’re facing, even if the unknown vessel is small.”
“Or either vessel,” Engels murmured to herself. She wasn’t assuming this lone human was friendly or trustworthy just because she needed help.
Gray’s cruiser Samarah fired a secondary laser at long range, its beam passing between the pursued and the pursuer. Space dust and ionized gas sparkled with the energy. There was no missing the message.
The chasing ship broke off, turning away at full acceleration, but not before launching a small, high-speed missile which arrowed for its quarry.
“Shit, shit, shit!” the woman on the screen shrieked. “Goddammit!”
The holotank zoomed in on the missile rapidly catching up to the woman’s sleek craft. Just before it impacted, a beam from the Samarah took it out.
“Thanks,” the woman said. “Permission to come aboard?”
“Granted,” Engels said after glancing at Straker for objection. “Use Flight Deck One. Indy will pass you instructions. By the way—” Her further words were cut off as the vidlink dropped. “Oh, well. I guess we’ll make introductions in person.”
“After a medical scan and quarantine if necessary,” Mara said.
Straker turned to his sister. “We’ve never needed quarantine before.”
“We’ve never been outside human space before. They might have unknown diseases out here. Patience and care now might save a lot of trouble later.”
“Agreed,” Engels said. “Doctor Straker, go set it up. Let me know when she’s cleared.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mara hurried off the bridge.
“What about—” Straker began.
Engels cut him off. “We’ll need security when she comes in. General Straker, will you handle that please?”
Straker spoke without turning, eyes locked with Engels. “Loco.”
“On it, boss.” Loco strode off the bridge.
“Admiral Engels, you mind joining me in the ready room?” Straker stalked over to the door and opened it.
“Indy,” Engels said, “How long until those other ships and groups approach?”
“The nearest is fifty minutes away.”
“You know where I’ll be.”
When the door shut, Straker snapped, “What was that in there?”
“Apparently that was me bruising your ego.”
“Or you undercutting my command.”
Engels locked her hands behind her back and braced her shoulders. “Am I still your fleet commander?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you should have no problems with me handling fleet details in the midst of operations.”
“This is more than a fleet detail. It’s contact with new species.”
“Not true. She was obviously human, speaking Earthan. Since when are you a micro-manager, afraid your subordinates will make you look bad just doing their fucking jobs?”
That stopped him. He put his fist to his mouth and coughed self-consciously. “You think so?”
“I think you’ve been bored and itching for action after five years, and now you’re like a kid at an amusement park, over-eager to ride every ride.”
“Okay. Point taken.”
“And by the way...” Engels stopped herself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Now wasn’t the time to bring up further issues of command, though she’d been thinking about them for the past seven weeks. Not with mere minutes before they might be interacting—maybe fighting—with several new aliens.
Straker seemed to come
to the same conclusion. “Okay.” He stepped forward to wrap her in his arms. “Whatever it is, let’s mommy and daddy present a united front. Otherwise, the kids lose confidence, right?”
She laid her head on his chest for a moment. “Right.” She kissed him, and then said, “Let me go, you gorilla.”
He squeezed gently once more, and then released her.
In her flag chair once more, Engels checked the holotank. Her fleet was set up in the best formation possible to meet the nearest of the three approaching squadrons. The cruisers were spread in a triangle forward, with the dreadnoughts back and in the center. Behind each DN, a line of six transports hid like soldiers sharing one tree.
Zaxby’s skimmers occupied a ring farther out and ahead, acting as low-observable skirmishers. Like every escort-sized ship in history, they were picketed dangerously forward to give warning of an enemy trick.
The closest alien squadron consisted of five cruiser-sized vessels, now entering long range for Breaker weaponry. Engels realized she had no idea of what capabilities she faced. “Analysis of approaching ships,” she said in Commander Sinden’s direction.
A holo of a ten-legged pink spider appeared on two of the large screens as Sinden spoke. “The race on board call themselves the Arattak. This is what they look like, if their vid-hail is accurate.”
The holo switched to a ship diagram. “Their ships are teardrop-shaped, unlike our usual cylindrical design, flying with the point forward, the fat end containing the engines aft. They have one medium-power forward-facing energy weapon of as-yet unknown type and strength, as well as ten secondary energy turrets around the waist, which gives them total coverage in three dimensions.”
“Don’t trust them,” a new, female voice said from the main bridge door. “Keep them at long range or you’ll regret it.”
Chapter 8
Admiral Engels, on the bridge of the Independence
Engels turned to see the tall, green-eyed, purple-haired woman from the small ship saunter onto the bridge. Her face was broad, with strong, high cheekbones offset by a wide nose, slightly crooked as if it had been broken and not set well. That one flaw aside, Engels could see her raw animal attractiveness turn several heads, a voluptuous figure poured into a form-fitting black outfit, with trousers and a stylish jacket.
She wore a harness with a dozen holsters, sheaths and pouches, several of which were now empty. Behind her, Sergeant Steiner held a stunner in one rocklike fist, pointed at the small of the woman’s back. Beside him, a female marine corporal carried a utility bag in one hand, a needler in the other.
“Tell the Arattak ships to come to relative rest at long range,” Engels snapped toward Comms, turning away from the newcomer. “If they don’t comply, they may be fired upon.” As much as she wanted this initial encounter to be peaceful, she was acutely aware of the Breakers’ vulnerability.
Then she returned her attention to the woman. “I’m Carla Engels. What do we call you?”
“Captain Chiara Jilani, free trader, at your service.” She bowed casually, and then strolled over to the holotank. “From Seconda Venzia.”
“No reply from the Arattak ships,” Comms said.
“They’re not decelerating,” Sensors announced.
Jilani stripped off thin, flare-wristed gloves, finger by finger, before taking them in one fist to wave at the holotank. “You’ll have to fire at them, punch them in the nose. The Arattak always push the boundaries. They’re predators. You have to demonstrate you are too, or they’ll think of you as prey. Might as well shoot first, or you may take some damage when they do.”
Engels considered. Keep the moral high ground by acting only defensively, or believe Jilani and possibly be the bad guy?
She split the difference. “Fire warning shots with beams. Soft-launch a missile spread. We’ll recover them later if we need to.” Until the Breakers had a source of resupply, missiles were irreplaceable, but they were useful as a visible threat.
“Won’t work,” Jilani said. “They think warnings only make you look weak. Actions, not words—that’s all they care about.”
Engels soon saw Captain Jilani was right. The Arattak weren’t slowing down.
Straker coughed and gave Engels a hard look.
“Approaching medium range,” Indy said. “I’m launching drones.”
“Pass to the cruisers. Engage the approaching ships, beams only.”
Three volleys of beams lanced out to paint the front of three Arattak ships with deadly energy. Hemispheres sparkled and flared ahead of each alien.
“They have shields,” Straker said.
“Of course they have shields,” Jilani said. “Don’t you?”
“We do,” Engels said, gripping her chair arms. “Are they slowing down?”
“No,” Indy declared. “They’re firing.”
The three Arattak ships that had been hit fired their central weapons as they entered medium range. Spinning spheres of crackling energy leaped across space at high speed to impact the shield of the three cruisers. The balls of lightning enveloped the shields, surrounding them with blinding light.
“DNs, engage!” Engels barked. “Skimmers and drones, attack. Send in the shipkillers, but keep positive terminal control. Damage report on the cruisers?”
“Cruisers report no systems damage, except that the attack burned out their shield generators with feedback.”
“That was an anti-shield weapon,” Jilani said. “Their next shots will hurt.”
“Have the damaged cruisers fall back on impellers,” Engels snapped, “max frontal reinforcement. Let’s see what our DN weaponry can do.”
The heavy spinal weapons of the dreadnoughts fired particle beams from longer range. The enemy ships didn’t evade, perhaps overconfident after the cruisers failed to damage them. Three flares showed direct hits.
When the sensors cleared, the holotank displayed the Arattak squadron making an unbelievably rapid turn away, to speed off obliquely from the Breakers fleet. This time, they were evading strenuously.
“Recover the missiles and cease fire,” Engels said.
“Typical Arattak,” Jilani said. “Now that they know you’ll fight, you can deal with them—if you have to. I wouldn’t, though. They can be a huge pain in the ass.”
Commander Sinden spoke. “Captain Jilani, their final turn exceeded the limits of physics for conventional maneuvering. Do you know how they did that?”
“I’ve heard they create an anchor point in spacetime and sling themselves around it using an energy tether. And no, I don’t know the details. Every race or group jealously guards its favorite tech. In fact, one reason the Arattak are so pushy is to gather technical intel. They want to see how you fight, what tech you use.”
“What’s your favorite tech?” Loco said, slowly circling closer to Jilani like a dog around an unknown stray.
Jilani raised an eyebrow and her mouth twitched. “I’ve got a few tricks down my pants, but they don’t come cheap.”
“How do they come?”
“First, if you’re a gentleman.”
Straker saw things were quickly getting out of hand. He reminded himself Crossroads locals had a very different view of morality.
“Loco! Down, boy!” Straker said, then he turned to the woman. “Captain Jilani, I’m General Derek Straker, and you’re the guest of Straker’s Breakers. I apologize on behalf of our resident womanizer, Johannes Miguel Paloco. If he keeps it up, feel free to kick him in the nuts.”
Loco glared at Straker, annoyed at the use of his full name—as Straker expected.
Jilani grinned. “Non importa, comandante. I know the type. If he gets out of line... well, we’ll either have a lot of fun together, or I’ll feed him his testicoli for breakfast. I’d say chances are fifty-fifty.”
“I’ll take those odds,” Loco murmured as he sidled over to lean against the bulkhead with exaggerated, leering coolness.
“All right, who’s next?” Engels asked in Sinden’s direction.
“A flotilla of eight ships of various sizes ranging from cruiser to DN size, heavily armed and armored.” Sinden put up a picture of a broad-faced creature with thin fur of brown, black and white. Engels immediately thought of something bovine, if cattle stood on two legs, wore fine linen clothing, had four-fingered hands and expressive faces. “They identify themselves as Humbar and claim to be interested in trading food and anything related—spice plants, especially.”
Jilani spoke without being asked. “They’re good people, and completely defensive. Tough in a fight, but they never start one, and all they care about is improving the terraformed worlds of their home system. They love getting new plants. You can bargain pretty hard for something completely unknown and useful, if you’re the first to offer it.”
Engels spoke to Colonel Keller at the flag logistics station. “Monika, take this one. Find some botanists or agriculturalists among our civilians, form a team, and see what we can get out of the Humbar. Oh, and include some kind of trader or business expert to help with the negotiations. Once you’re done with the Humbar, keep the trading team together on call. I get the feeling we’ll be needing them.”
“Who’s next?” Engels asked in Sinden’s direction.
“The Eprem.” The picture Sinden called forth showed a blunt-nosed hexapod with glistening skin, like a six-legged salamander centaur with webbed feet and hands. It wore only a tool belt and harness around its upper body. “Six warships of various sizes with a moderate amount of detectable weaponry and heavy armor. They’re looking for mercenaries.”
“Sounds promising,” Straker considered aloud.
Loco leaned a little closer to the girl. “Maybe later you can tell me all about it over a bottle of your favorite adult beverage? What do, um, Veneechians drink?”
“We drink wine, and we’re Italians. Italians.”
“I thought you said you were from Segundo Veneechia.”
“Seconda Venezia, Madonna and the saints preserve me.” Jilani rolled her eyes and turned back to Engels. “Why isn’t he wearing bells?”
“What?”
“Bells. You know, like a court fool? Okay, never mind. I can see we have some cultural differences to overcome.” Jilani waved as if shooing flies. “Anyway, yeah, the Eprem worship truth like a god. I’m not really sure whether this god is supposed to be an actual person or only an idea, but what matters is, lying is their ultimate sin. You lie to them and you’re damned to hell with no hope of redemption.”
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