by Peter Kenson
“You will do no such thing, sir. Their taunts cannot affect me today. This is nothing that I did not expect. I never intended to surrender or to lose in any other way. So calm yourself and go to sit with the ladies. They will welcome your presence.”
Angelo looked at the calm, assured swordsman standing in front of him and then to Sergio who gave him a nod of encouragement. He ducked under the tent flap as Sergio reached into another of the bundles he had brought with him and pulled out a crested helm.
“Put this on. I know you don’t like fighting in a helmet but, after what has just happened, you are going to need it. Rodriguez will try to go for a head shot now to get a quick kill; it’s the easiest way to cause an ‘accidental’ death. This helm has served me well in the past and I hope it will do the same for you today.”
Sergio shook his hand as the trumpets blared out again and then opened the tent wide to allow Seb to walk through with his head held high and the crest on his helm even higher. It seemed an even longer walk to the centre of the arena this time and the buzz from the crowd was louder with many shouts of encouragement for both the combatants. They bowed to the Count who raised his hand to signal the start of the combat.
Seb drew his swords and took guard against the more experienced fighter. The opening exchanges were cautious as both men sounded each other out. Rodriguez held his shield high and Seb landed a couple of solid blows on it before darting away from the ensuing counter attacks. Seb was the younger of the two men by more than a decade and was carrying less weight. Nevertheless, Rodriguez’ reflexes were lightning fast and several times Seb had to move very quickly indeed to deflect his opponent’s sword.
The contest settled down into more of a routine as both men tried out a variety of attacking moves, each seeking out that decisive opening. And it was Rodriguez who scored the first hit, taking advantage of a slip as Seb dodged away, to land a ringing blow on the side of the helmet. The power of the blow knocked Seb sideways onto his back amid groans of dismay from the crowd. He quickly rolled away to regain his feet as Rodriguez tried to press home his advantage with a flurry of attacking blows. The vision in Seb’s left eye was partially obscured by the damaged helmet and he had to defend desperately for several minutes before the pace of the attack slackened.
Both men circled each other warily as they tried to recover their breath and Seb took the chance to remove the helmet that was blocking his vision and throw it to one side. There were gasps of horror from the onlookers and he saw a glint in the other man’s eye as the experienced Rodriguez calculated how best to exploit this opportunity. A blow like the last one to Seb’s now unprotected head, would inevitably be fatal.
Rodriguez leapt forward using his shield as a battering ram to push his opponent backwards, and try to block both of Seb’s swords. With his own sword he aimed a slash towards the legs, unprotected beneath the short hauberk but, at the last second, he suddenly switched the point of attack to the head. Anticipating the switch, Seb dropped to one knee as the sword whistled towards his head and parried the blow with his long sword. With the other he slashed down across Rodriguez’ wrist and followed in with a lunge to the calf.
The older man let out a howl of agony as the sword dropped from his nerveless hand but the momentum of his attack knocked Seb onto his back once more. The short sword twisted out of his hand as he rolled clear but remained embedded in his opponent’s calf. Rodriguez’ stood there with his swordarm now hanging uselessly at his side and blood dripping from the slash on his wrist. Seb stepped back a couple of paces and raised his other sword in front of his face in salute as he awaited the fighter’s surrender.
The cheers that had erupted from one section of the crowd, died away as Rodriguez threw his shield to the ground and took hold of the hilt of Seb’s sword with his left hand. With a snarl of fury he pulled it from his calf and took guard. Seb hesitated for only a second before resuming his own guard; Sergio had not mentioned that Rodriguez was ambidextrous.
Defending against an experienced left-handed swordsman was not something that Seb was used to and initially he was forced to give ground. Slowly, however, he adapted to the pattern of attacks and started to introduce some counters of his own. Rodriguez was visibly tiring now as the blood continued to pour from his wounded wrist and leg. He threw himself into another barrage of attacks to try to end the fight quickly but this time Seb did not give ground.
They locked swords in the centre of the arena and stood face to face, each struggling to push the other man back. Eventually it was Rodriguez who stepped back but Seb followed in, swinging himself low in a full circle to land another solid blow on the damaged calf. Rodriguez screamed in pain and Seb quickly reversed direction to swing back again, his sword high this time, to smash down through his opponent’s guard and knock the sword from his hand.
Rodriguez stood absolutely motionless as Seb raised the point of his sword to just below the chin strap of his opponent’s helmet. There was pain and anger in his eyes but he refused to lower his gaze, staring straight ahead. With his free hand, Seb indicated that the veteran should step back a pace, then quickly stooped down to retrieve his short sword whilst keeping the other pointing at Rodriguez’ throat.
The crowd were quiet now as they waited for the final act in the drama. Out of the corner of his eye, Seb saw the seneschal step forward, only to be waved back again by Count Leonid. The tension in the atmosphere around the arena was almost palpable as the entire crowd appeared to hold its breath. Then Seb stepped back a pace and raised his sword in salute again before sheathing both weapons in the harness behind his shoulders.
The crowd erupted in a fury of cheers and applause as Seb turned and bowed, first to the Count and then to the grandstand where Angelo and Teresa were sitting. He turned back in time to see Rodriguez starting slowly to collapse and ran forward to catch the veteran and lower him gently to the ground. Attendants came rushing over to try to staunch the flow of blood from his wounds. Carefully they lifted the wounded man onto a stretcher but, as they prepared to carry him away, he stopped them with a word and beckoned Seb to approach.
“You know I would have killed you, don’t you?”
“I know,” Seb replied.
They held each other’s gaze for some seconds longer, then Rodriguez raised his left hand and offered it to Seb. They clasped hands as both men silently acknowledged the other’s professional skill. Finally he nodded to Seb and lay back for the attendants to take him for treatment.
Angelo and Sergio reached Seb together with Teresa less than a pace behind. The men both offered their hands in congratulation but Teresa pushed past them to throw herself into Seb’s arms. The roar of the crowd swelled in approval as he kissed her lips and then died away as the trumpets blared out again. Count Leonid stepped forward to the front of the dais as the seneschal whispered something in his ear.
“Firstly, allow me to offer my congratulations, Master Angelo; your future son-in-law fought well. It would appear that Master Antonio has already left the arena but no matter. He will find guards stationed outside his house, his warehouse and all his other properties. As would you have done, of course, had you been the loser.”
The Count looked round at the crowds of excited people, none of whom were showing any urgency to depart.
“I suspect that this result may be quite popular in the town and so I shall have a cask of ale sent to every tavern, so that all can join in the celebrations.”
This provoked another outburst of cheering from the masses and it was several minutes before the Count could make himself heard once more.
“This will, of course, be at your expense, Master Angelo,” he said with a smile. “I shall expect to be fully reimbursed.”
Cheers and laughter broke out again as Angelo bowed in acknowledgement.
“And now I will let you go to your family celebrations but, when this situation is fully resolved, come to see me again. We have some matters of business to discuss.”
Chapter 17 - Swordfish
Commander Mikael Boronin sat in the captain’s chair and surveyed the bridge of the Swordfish. The three gold bars on his shoulder seemed to gleam especially bright in the well-lit command position and still felt uncomfortably heavy. All of the bridge stations were fully manned as they had replaced their casualties from the Cleopatra and taken on the extra crew required for a ship of this class. Lt. Frank Bennetton had been promoted to Lt. Cmdr. and confirmed as the Swordfish’s Executive Officer. Ensigns Fleurie Marisse and Ewan Targa had both been promoted to lieutenant and two new ensigns had joined the crew as junior officers. Their electronics officer, Erik van Gelst, had discharged himself from hospital and reported for duty an hour before departure. And the complement of ships officers was completed by Ensign Dag Freihart, promoted to acting lieutenant by Mikael as soon as they cleared Star Base.
“Sensors, have we got any company?”
“Nothing on either short or long range scans, sir,” Erik replied.
“Anything in the tank, Number One?”
“There’s nothing in this region of space, sir. The nearest trade route is 50 light-years away. There’s some traffic on it but nothing heading in our direction.”
“Right, bring the ship to Action Stations and prepare one of the target probes for launching.”
Mikael had commandeered two of the latest target probes before they left Star Base. Unlike surveillance probes which were stripped to the minimum for covert operation, the target probes were fully shielded and their navigational programs were optimised for rapid evasive manoeuvres.
“Ship cleared for action, sir,” Frank reported. “Two minutes 48 seconds.”
“Thank you, Number One. Guns, report status.”
“All positions manned and ready, sir,” Dag replied. “Engineering reports that full power is available to the phasor banks.”
“Thank you, Guns. Pilot, are you ready for this?”
“Yes sir,” Fleurie reported.
Mikael thumbed the general tannoy button built in to the arm of his chair. “Attention all personnel, this is the captain speaking. We are about to commence a live firing exercise. Stand by for high speed manoeuvres.
“All right, Number One. Let her rip.”
The probe was deliberately launched from one of the rear torpedo tubes so Fleurie flung the ship around in a tight turn to follow it. By the time the turn was completed, the probe was already out of range and accelerating hard. Fleurie piled on the speed to get after it but as soon as the probe detected a potential threat within weapons range, it began a series of high-speed, jinking manoeuvres.
Several times the phasor batteries opened fire, with no success. The probe, carrying no human lifeforms, was not subject to the same constraints on high-G turns as the Swordfish and maintained its impressive record of survival until Frank reported that it was starting to slow as its fuel cells were depleted.
“Cease fire,” Mikael ordered. “Recover the probe and refuel her. We’ll have to try this again.”
“Captain, if I may make a suggestion,” Dag said as he approached the command station.
“Go ahead, Guns.”
“We can’t match the manoeuvrability of that little probe, sir. She can make high-G turns that would smear the crew across every internal bulkhead if we tried to copy them.”
“I noticed the problem. What’s your point?”
“Several times in that attack run I had three batteries trained on the target and once I had all four. But before I could fire, we changed course to follow the probe and I had to start again. I believe that, if we fly a steadier course, I can bracket the target and increase the probability of a hit, whichever way it jinks.”
“Pilot, what’s your view?”
“It’s a valid point, sir. There’s no way I can match the turns that probe can make. But if Guns can give me a course that’ll bring his phasors to bear, I’ll fly it for you.”
“And can you, Guns? Give the pilot a course for her to follow that’ll bring your batteries to bear?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then make it so. Number One, stand the crew down. We’ll go again as soon as the probe is refuelled.”
***
They arrived into Belsian space with both target probes satisfactorily destroyed and a greatly increased air of confidence on the bridge. Mikael halted their approach just beyond the maximum detection range of the Belsian defences and called the senior officers to a conference in his ready room.
“Okay, this is where we go silent,” he told them. “From here on, our principal objective is to remain completely undetected. Our instructions are to penetrate the system and gather Intel. First priority, I want precise details of the Belsi military capabilities in the system in case they do detect us and turn hostile.
“Second up, High Command want to know what the hell they’ve found down on Ystradis that they’re shipping out in huge quantities. Suzanne is going to try to make contact with the Resistance on the ground and we are to monitor all departing freighters. Now what do we know about the system before we start in there? Do they have any static defences?”
“Not that we’ve found so far, sir,” Frank reported. “There’s an absolute swarm of small satellites around Belsia that we’re still analysing but they seem to be mostly communications. We have identified four long range scanning systems that give them all round coverage of the system but we can’t detect any platform mounted weapons.
“Ystradis is slightly simpler. They’ve got a network of comsats to provide continuous contact with their ground forces and some short range scanners covering the local space but that’s all. They do, however, have three frigate class ships on continuous patrol around the planet.”
“And the rest of their navy?”
“Their other ships are orbiting Belsia. There are two frigates in a parking orbit and one in what looks to be a floating dock. That one is completely powered down and appears to be under repair. The other two are showing power but their output is minimal. My guess is that they’re stood down but we have no indication of how long it would take to bring them into action.
“The last ship is the most interesting and potentially the most dangerous. It’s much larger, probably cruiser class but we’re too far out to scan its systems in detail. Like the frigates, it’s also sat there under minimal power.”
“What’s your best guess of their ready time, Number One?”
“If they’re sitting there fully crewed, they could be active in less than an hour. If they have to retrieve off-duty crew from the planet’s surface, then eight to twelve hours or possibly more.”
“Right Guns, are you ready to switch on those shield modifications?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then bring them online as soon as we’re finished here. Pilot, I want to get closer to Belsia so that we can scan that big ship but I want to test this new stealth system on the way in. Plot an approach course that takes us close to their outermost long range scanning satellite. If we get past that undetected, we push on to Belsia.”
Suzanne hung back as the others filed out of the room. “Nervous?” she asked with a smile.
“No, not really,” Mikael replied, walking round the table to put an arm round her waist.
“Then what is it?” she persisted. “I can see from your face that there’s something worrying you.”
“It’s probably nothing,” he assured her. “It’s just that there’s something going on with the Belsi and we don’t know what it is. High Command is worried. That’s obvious. There are many different places the Old Man could have sent us to trial these new systems but they’re desperate to get some decent intel about the situation here.”
“Then you’d better get on with it,” she teased, giving him a quick kiss. “The sooner you gather this information, the sooner we can get back to Star Base and finish planning a certain special event.”
“Women,” he smiled, returning
the kiss. “All they ever think about is weddings and babies. Now get out of here before I get accused of inappropriate behaviour with a member of my crew.”
On the bridge, Mikael took his seat and listened to the reports coming in.
“Course plotted, sir,” Fleurie reported. “We’ll pass the scanner at a range of one kilometre. If she had eyes, she’d see us at that distance.”
“Very good. Comms?”
“I’m monitoring every communication band they have, sir,” Ewan replied. “Any increase in traffic and I’ll pick it up straightaway.”
“Stealth shielding online, sir,” Dag reported.
“Right people, let’s do this. Number One, sound general quarters. Helm, all ahead, quarter impulse power.”
The strident sound of the general alert rang out as Swordfish nosed ahead, cautiously passing what they estimated was the maximum range of the scanners.
“No reaction, sir,” Ewan reported. “No increase in comms traffic.”
“Okay, Helm bring us up to one half impulse.”
“Half impulse, aye.”
“Coming up on outer satellite in thirty seconds,” Frank announced.
“Comms, anything?”
“No increase in general traffic, sir. I’ve locked on to the satellite’s signal now. It’s a tight beam to the surface of the planet and it’s encrypted but there’s been no change in the actual signal. I think it’s just sending a routine ‘I’m here’ message every ten seconds.”
“Very good, Comms. Report any change in that signal. Helm, take us on in and put us in high orbit over the planet. Let’s take a look at that cruiser.”
As Fleurie initiated the braking sequence that would put the Swordfish into orbit around Belsia, Mikael walked over to the tactical station to view the initial data coming in from the scans.
“What have we got, Number One?”
“Well let’s start with the frigates. I haven’t scanned the ones at Ystradis yet but the ones here vary in age from old to antique. The two in orbit have got Mark 4 pulse lasers, the same as the old ones we had on the Cleo. They’ve just got more of them; six banks on each ship. They’ve got torpedo tubes of a similar age fore and aft but I can’t tell much about them because they’re not active. They’re capable of launching some nasty stuff but if their munitions are the same age as the ships, they shouldn’t be much of a threat.”