by B. V. Larson
Turning away from the pain, he spotted one Hok with a heavy blaster, standing above him in a hole in a bulkhead. Once Straker had moved the rent in his armor out of the way, the weapon posed little threat unless it could fire repeatedly at the same spot.
But Straker didn’t allow that. Mentally saluting the once-human creature, he aimed his force-cannon and triggered it in broad-blast mode.
The flamethrower cone of ultra-heated plasma splashed against the underside of the deck beneath the Hok’s feet, melting through it and spreading fast. The trooper died in hot agony, and the heat killed or drove away other defenders, clearing the way for Straker to advance through the barriers in front of him.
Except for the structural supports, the decks and bulkheads seemed like so much metal foil to him, material to pull aside or punch through. This was working better than he’d expected. He’d been concerned the close confines of a warship would trap a mechsuit, but no designer had ever planned for a seven-meter human-shaped warrior rampaging around the ship’s interior, dressed in armor as hard as that on a warship’s hull.
In moments he’d reached the ship’s main passageway that ran from bow to stern, paralleling the primary spinal shaft. Most warships installed their largest direct-fire weapons—beams or railguns—straight down this long axis for maximum structural strength, size and stability.
The standard layout plan would put the bridge forward of amidships and slightly off center, as deep inside as possible without affecting the spine. The main passageway would therefore lead him straight to it.
Hatches had been dogged in front of him, but he barely slowed down, forcing his way through like a man crawling down a tunnel made of tinfoil. When he ripped open the last pressure door to see the terrified bridge crew, he switched on external speakers and roared, “Surrender or die!”
He emphasized his demand by pointing his meter-long right gauntlet with its protruding force-cannon directly at the captain, a sturdy man wearing lieutenant commander’s stripes.
The captain threw up his hands. “We yield!” he cried.
“Tell your marines and Hok to stand down so I don’t have to kill any more of them.” Straker switched to comlink. “Loco, I’ve got the bridge. Don’t destroy anything else.”
“Good thing you called, boss,” Loco said sarcastically. “I was about to crack the fusion reactor and go out in a blaze of glory. Or maybe just cut the main power bus.”
“Stand by for further instructions, smartass.” Straker changed to external speakers again. “You are Captain…”
“Pang Zholin, commanding the People’s Mutual Navy frigate Chun Wei.”
“Commodore Derek Straker here, Straker’s Breakers. Patch my comlink signal through to the freighter.”
Zholin crossed his arms. “I’m not going to collaborate with a turncoat lackey.” He said it with an odd lack of passion, as if reciting lines in a play.
Straker pointed the force-cannon at him. “Then you’ll all die just to slow me down by five minutes as I rip my way through to the outer hull and comlink them myself. I have a Lazarus Inquisitor aboard the freighter. I’ll let you speak to him if you’re so brainwashed you can’t make decisions for yourself, but I’d have thought a frigate captain would be smarter than that.”
Zholin’s expression soured further, if that were possible. “Put him through,” he said to his communications officer.
When Straker’s comlink showed it was synched up with Lockstep, he said, “Straker to Gibson. We have the frigate, so you can stabilize. Come back and dock directly. Send over a platoon of Breakers to secure all spaces within this ship. Straker out.”
He addressed Zholin. “Captain, order your entire crew to stand down and assemble on the shuttle bay flight deck. Tell them not to sabotage anything. They’ll be well treated if they don’t do anything stupid, but I’ll have anyone who gets out of line shot and spaced.”
Zholin glared at him for a moment, and then seemed to crumple. “I supposed I did surrender. I’ll do as you ask.”
“As I order.”
“Because you have a weapon on me.”
“I’ve been inside your sick, twisted system, Captain. You have no moral high ground with me, and this is war. You keep giving me pushback and I’ll brig you in solitary. I’m sure your next-in-command will be more amenable.”
Zholin swallowed. “All right, you win.”
“I always win.” Straker grinned wolfishly, then realized Zholin couldn’t see him. He accessed a seldom-used feature of his suit to display his visage on his faceplate. “Too bad you’re so brainwashed. I have a lot of Mutuality defectors in the Breakers.”
The frigate captain grunted. “Do you want me to tell my people what to do, or do you want to me to stand here and listen to you talk? Because I can’t do both.”
“Fair enough. Go ahead.”
Zholin accessed his PA system and told the crew he’d surrendered the ship, to assemble on the flight deck, and not to sabotage anything. At Straker’s instructions, he had his helmsman work with Lockstep to perform a deep-space docking.
Soon, Breakers filled the Chun Wei, searching and securing every compartment, including the bridge.
Straker sent Zholin and the rest of the frigate’s bridge officers to the assembly point, escorted by Breakers. He and Loco carefully extracted from the frigate and stored their mechsuits in Lockstep’s cargo bay again. With sidearms, they went back aboard the Chun Wei in a more ordinary manner, through the docking port.
Gibson’s XO, Lieutenant Jonas, reported to Straker with three others of Lockstep’s crew. “I assume you’re going to take this ship as a prize, sir? If you leave me a dozen grunts to help repair the damage, we can get her home, assuming her sidespace engines are still in order.”
“Get to it. We’ll be putting her crew into boats—as many as don’t defect.”
Jonas hustled away, and Straker led Loco to the shuttle bay flight deck. Though the largest single space on the ship, it was barely big enough to hold the frigate’s forty or so crew, plus Breakers to guard them. Three Hok stood placidly in one corner with fibertape wrapping their hands up to their forearms, and loosely around their ankles.
“What’re we gonna do about those guys, boss?” Loco asked quietly. “They creep me out.”
“I’ll have to think about it. They might be of use later. Have them taken to Lockstep and put them in separate confinement, right now. I don’t want them to hear this.”
Loco passed those orders, and the Hok were marched away.
Straker jumped up to stand atop a shuttle and look down on the prisoners. “Listen up, Mutualists. I’m Commodore Derek Straker. Some call me a pirate, others a freebooter, but what I really am is a liberator. I’m here to offer you your freedom, a place in a society with no torture, no self-shaming sessions and no Inquisitors. You’ll work hard and contribute, but you’ll be rewarded for your contributions, not for how well you parrot slogans or kiss ass to a bunch of arrogant clones.”
The crew glanced around at each other and especially at one particular officer, a man with unique red rank tabs on his collar. That one glared at Straker with pure hatred.
Straker pointed at him. “You. What’s your name?”
“Burn in hell, unmutual lackey!”
“That’s one funny-ass name,” said Loco from his position leaning casually on a bulkhead. “Did your mother hate you or what?”
“You will not get any of this crew to defect,” the man snapped. “They’re all loyal.”
Straker jumped down. “You’re what—some kind of political officer?”
“I am People’s Commissar Gou Liang. I am the guardian of rightful Party thinking.”
“So you’re the thought police. Well, I’m not interested in policing anyone’s thoughts, only their actions.” Straker lashed out with one hard fist and knocked the commissar to the deck. The man lay stunned, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“Tape him loosely so he can eventually free himself,” St
raker ordered. “Throw him into a one-man escape pod and eject it into space.”
“Wait… Please, sir,” said Zholin, stepping up to Straker and speaking quietly. “If he reports, our families will surely be killed for our treason. If we only disappear with no report from him, no one will know.”
“I’m not going to murder him,” said Straker. “He’s a prisoner of war, captured in uniform during a combat action.”
“Then keep him prisoner. Only I beg you, do not release him.”
Straker nodded. “Fair enough. Throw him in the brig.”
Three Breakers grabbed Liang and dragged him off.
Straker paced in front of the Mutualist crew. “Your watchdog is gone. You can now think for yourselves.” He pointed to his left. “Anyone who wants to be sent safely back to the Mutuality, stand over there. You won’t be harmed. I know many of you have families that will be punished if you defect. I won’t hold it against you.”
A few immediately shuffled over to stand where Straker was pointing. The rest seemed to be listening and thinking, waiting for another option. They kept glancing at their captain.
“Anyone else can join us,” Straker continued. “You’ll have a period of probation, but eventually you’ll take your places as free citizens alongside us.”
Captain Zholin raised his hand. “What is your supposedly free society called?”
Straker exchanged glances with Loco, who looked amused. “That’s still being debated by our council. Straker’s Breakers is the name of my organization for now, and I’m the commander, but eventually we’ll have a civilian government in place.”
Loco stepped over to Zholin. “Don’t you want to be free?”
Zholin faced Loco with a grim expression. “Freedom is nothing without the discipline to appreciate it. My society has so much corruption that it often fails to fight the Hundred Worlds effectively, but I will not jump out of the stewpot and into the fire.”
Straker realized this earnest young man was looking for a reason to do what he wished; otherwise, he’d be already standing with the loyalists. “We balance freedom and discipline. Loco here’s more of a freedom kind of guy, and I guess I’m more disciplined, but there’s room for everyone if they choose to stay within the limits of decent behavior, keep their word, honor their commitments and follow the laws their representatives put in place. And you can always leave and go somewhere else, even back to the Mutuality. Your government is my enemy, but its citizens aren’t.”
Zholin drew himself to attention and saluted. “I will join you, Commodore Straker. If you will have me, I will captain the Chun Wei with honor in your name. I pledge myself to your service. I believe others here will accompany me.”
All the remaining crewmembers rushed to join Zholin in formation behind him, and they also lifted their hands in salute. One even re-defected from the loyalist group.
Straker returned the salute. “I accept everyone’s service in the name of the Breakers, Captain Zholin. However, you’ll understand that you’re all still on probation. I’ll have to spread your people around, put many of you aboard other ships and put some of mine on this one.”
“Of course, Commodore. Thank you.”
Straker smiled. “Let me introduce you to the commander of my tiny but growing space fleet. Her name is Carla Engels.”
Chapter 5
Starfish Nebula, Freiheit, Base Control Center (BCC)
Commander Carla Engels watched from the terrace of the Freiheit’s Base Control Center as Straker, Loco and some of his Breakers led Lockstep’s captain and crew in an impromptu triumphal parade down the habitat’s main north-south avenue.
Those rescued from the prison camp smiled and waved at the cheering citizens who’d gathered at the docking port’s exit. The habitat might eventually fill up, but it should hold up to ten thousand comfortably. Right now, not even a quarter that many lived in it.
At times, Engels felt the hollow asteroid’s emptiness. At others, like now, she appreciated its rural character, though it was rapidly turning into a close-knit spaceborne community. It would be a good place to settle after all this was over.
Over? Who was she kidding? Straker was going to push his luck to win or die, and she’d be right there beside him.
If they died it wouldn’t matter, but if they won, they’d likely have to live in some capital city of a new empire, helping to rule. Maybe she could persuade him to turn the government over to civilians, retire young and raise a family. Then she laughed at her own pretensions.
The cheering subsided as other Breakers emerged from the docking port, carrying coffin-shaped cargo cases and marching solemnly in step. The boxes were draped with simple flags of deepest blue, with a single five-pointed silver star on each.
This was the emblem of galactic liberation the Freiheit Council had chosen, confirmed by a citizen’s vote and approved by Straker. He’d standardized the blue and silver as the Breaker colors, and ordered them used where appropriate.
Engels gazed on as Captain Zholin and the crew of the Chun Wei followed, eyes wide in wonder at the reception.
“Turning this guy to our side is really going to pay off,” she’d said to Straker during the trip, after speaking to Zholin at length. “We got lucky there.”
“A man makes his own luck,” he’d replied. “The Mutuality has primed its own citizens to defect. All we have to do is give them the opportunity to do it, by removing the forces that rule by fear. Soon, we’ll be freeing whole star systems.”
She’d nodded. “Then the trick’s going to be overcoming those forces. Which means forces of our own.”
Now, Engels wondered what Straker had in mind for his next campaign. As usual, he wasn’t talking about it much, except to say it would be big, and risky. No surprise there. It might have something to do with whatever secret project Murdock and his team was working on, something even she had no access to.
When the parade and the reception petered out, Engels headed back inside the BCC. She comlinked Revenge, enabling full vid. “Zaxby, you there?”
“Of course I am here, Carla. If I weren’t here, I would not be responding to you, because I would be somewhere else, and we would not be talking. And, you really ought to use proper military protocol on the comlink.”
“And you waste a lot of effort trying to change things you never will. You must be a real masochist.”
“As opposed to an unreal masochist?”
Engels growled, “Shut up and listen. What do you know about Murdock’s secret project?”
“That is classified.”
Engels felt her face turning sour. “From me? I’m second in command!”
“Need to know only. Commodore Straker’s orders. Lieutenant Paloco has not been briefed either.”
“But you have.”
“I am a brainiac, in your quaint parlance. Other Ruxin technicians and I are rendering vital assistance, of course.”
“So it must be highly technical and speculative. I know Derek’s not happy with his performance in the mechsuit.” She snapped her fingers. “You’re trying to get his and Loco’s brainlinks synchronized to their suits, while closing off any vulnerabilities to getting their minds hacked.”
Zaxby squirmed, which on a Ruxin was quite a squirm indeed. “I really must not comment on that, Carla.”
“That’s all right. You already did. I don’t know why that’s such a big secret, though.”
“I am not allowed to comment, Carla.”
She smiled. “When you get the bugs worked out, I want them to work on my synch with Liberator. Right now it’s only enabled at a basic level. I want the full version. There’s nothing more fun than flying fully immersed.”
“Not even sex? Because I thought you humans regard sex as the ultimate physical pleasure. We Ruxins certainly do.”
Engels snorted. “You and Loco… always with sex on the brain.”
“Murdock and his team of humans also have a great deal of sex on their brains. He especially likes to
talk about Tachina and how pleasurable their relationship is, though it does divert him from his duties at times. I think the Ruxin way of reproduction is far superior to humans. We prepare, we mate furiously for a few days, and then we take time to recover in leisurely fashion. Afterward, we return to our lives for several years without such distractions.”
Engels laughed. “It’s not superior to go without sex for years. It’s just simpler—but thanks, Zaxby. You helped me think of something.”
“I am always happy to speak with you, Carla. However, we are approaching Freenix Base dry dock facilities in preparation for refit, so I must end this conversation. I will see you when I return to Freiheit. Zaxby out.”
Zaxby had reminded her of another source she could tap. Tachina. No doubt Loco would have made a joke about tapping, and normally she wouldn’t care about who Loco tapped, but Tachina was the very last one he should get involved with. If the former concubine had a middle name, it was Trouble with a capital T.
But in this case…
Tachina smiled as she opened the door to the bungalow she shared with Frank Murdock. “Why, Carla Engels! I never thought to see you grace us with your presence.” As usual, the woman’s tone hovered somewhere between gushing and sarcastic. Engels never quite knew whether she was sucking up or mocking, or something else entirely.
“May I come in?” Engels asked.
“Of course, of course. I’m always happy to welcome important people into my humble home.” Tachina backed up with a half-bow, which seemed all the more ludicrous in the cleavage-baring outfit and heels she habitually wore.
The bungalow was decorated with flowers and swatches of salvaged fabric, and various unusual objects were arranged artistically on shelves as if for no other reason than to please the eye. Engels had to admit Tachina had a cohesive sense of design different from the people of Freiheit, who leaned toward homey pastoral paintings and handicrafts.
The whole place smelled strongly of floral fragrance and smokestick. Engels wondered where Tachina obtained such luxury goods. She supposed where there was a demand for something, someone would supply it, as long as there was something to trade.