Battleship Indomitable (Galactic Liberation Book 2)

by B. V. Larson

  “That will make the process difficult. The people are used to rule by fear. Let off the pressure too fast, and they’ll boil over.”

  “Then do it slower, but within, let’s say, two years, I want only rehabilitative prisons for criminals remaining, and no political prisoners. We’ll have meetings about reform of the justice system. Given my experience, I’ll be taking a personal hand in it.”

  DeChang gave a seated bow.

  Heiser cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I been doin’ a little reading of my own, looking through Zaxby’s database. Seems like we need a constitution.”

  Straker snapped his fingers. “Right you are. I’d forgotten about that. Magna Carta, Bill of Rights, all that. In America, they had a Constitutional Convention. Director DeChang, that’ll be the Senate’s first major task. You’ll present it to me within six months.”

  “Admiral,” said Benota, “This is all well and good, but aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves? We haven’t even overthrown the Mutuality yet.”

  “Successful revolutions have shadow governments ready to go,” Straker retorted. “That’s what we’re working on. In fact, Director, Minister, I want you to start organizing that. Use this conference room. You’ll start with one representative from each of our liberated star systems. That’ll make twenty to thirty to begin with. Build from there. Conrad Ritter will be Sachsen’s senator for now, or he can choose one. Vuxana will decide who’ll represent Ruxin.”

  “I believe we can handle that,” DeChang said quietly.

  “Good,” said Straker. “Now, as our esteemed shadow Minister of War pointed out, we need to figure out our next military move.”

  ***

  Engels left the conference when the military issues had been discussed and the topics angled back to governance and politics, with various aides and experts being called in to provide advice. She had far too much work to do to sit around in meetings now that her fleet consisted of almost two hundred ships, forty of which were capital-grade cruisers and larger.

  She checked in with Captain Zholin on watch on the bridge. “Task Force Hilmar’s shown up,” he said.

  “Finally, Loco returns to the fold. Gonna be interesting to see how he and Straker work it out.”

  Captain Zholin grimaced. “I’m happy to stay out of that, Commodore.”

  “Smart man.” She headed for Engineering. She wanted to talk to Chief Quade about his crew requirements and the ship’s real capabilities now that there was no Indy to run the machinery inside the battleship. Without even the SAIs, everything had to be done with standard fast-but-dumb computers, or even manually, which meant thousands of maintenance engineers on a complex ship of this size.

  And things were already starting to break down. It was inevitable. She wished she could have retained some form of smart machines to help out, but keeping one of Indy’s Device-modified modules would be like removing a piece of her brain, and Engels couldn’t do it.

  Zaxby, who was still aboard Gryphon with Indy, had suggested reinstalling new SAIs and repeating the experiment with the Mindspark Device, but stopping the process earlier, before consciousness formed. Engels wasn’t ready to risk that. There was no guarantee of replicating benign results with the weird alien technology. Once these desperate battles were behind her, she’d push for experimentation on small, carefully secured systems.

  As Engels left the command section and walked aft, she found the corridors and passageways crowded with all sorts of people coming and going. Loaders with cargo and spare parts raced around, marines and infantry marched here and there, and far too many civilians—or at least, non-uniformed personnel—seemed to be sightseeing or gawking. This included a healthy dose of Ruxins, of course.

  She sighed. Now that Indomitable was in orbit around Ruxin and within easy shuttle range of fortresses and facilities, every looky-loo with official status and the ability to commandeer a gig or pinnace wanted to see the biggest ship ever built. Short of declaring a quarantine, she couldn’t keep them off, either. There were over fifty ship docks and hundreds of airlocks on the three-kilometer-long battleship, and there simply weren’t enough vetting procedures in place to control access—not if shipments and personnel were to come and go efficiently.

  Benota’d offered his thousands of Hok, but she wasn’t ready to use those combat slaves yet. She didn’t trust them to be truly under Liberation control, and the idea of exploiting the creatures’ conditioning didn’t sit well with her. Besides, everyone from former Hundred-Worlders to liberated Mutuality citizens had cause to hate the Hok as symbols of threat and oppression. But, she made a mental note to tell Heiser to improve security, and to ask Kraxor to get his own people under tighter control.

  She soon got tired of exchanging salutes and dodging vehicles as she walked, so when an empty utility cart with a civilian Ruxin neuter pulled up next to her, she flagged it down. “Will your schedule let you give me a lift to Engineering?”

  The Ruxin gave a helpless wave of its tentacles. “No Earthan,” it said awkwardly.

  Engels reached for her handtab for a machine translation when Karst walked up and saluted. “Can I help you, Commodore?”

  “Corporal Karst? Haven’t run into you lately.”

  “Sergeant, now.” He slapped his stripes. “The Spear keeps me busy.”

  “Congratulations. I’m just trying to catch a lift to Engineering, but this guy doesn’t speak Earthan.” She tapped at her handtab screen. “I have a translation utility on this thing somewhere. Hmm. I’m already missing Indy. She could run interpretations through my comlink. In fact, I can call Tixban.” She fished in a pocket for her earpiece.

  “Let me try. I’ve been learning Ruxin,” said Karst.

  “Really? That must be hard.”

  “Turns out I have a gift, they say.” Karst turned to the Ruxin and spoke a long string of syllables.

  The neuter sat up straighter and swung its eyes around so that two gazed at Karst, two at Engels. It bobbed its head and spoke, waving at the empty cart.

  “Moxen here will be happy to give us a lift. Take the other seat, please, ma’am. I’ll get in the back.” He clambered in.

  Engels hopped into the passenger seat next to Moxen and turned to look over her shoulder at Karst. “You don’t have to come along if you have other duties.”

  “And miss my chance to see Engineering on this ship? No way, ma’am. Besides, if something comes up, I can translate.”

  The cart sped off, Moxen weaving expertly among the traffic in the larger main passageways, heading aft. A few minutes later, they slowed at a traffic jam.

  After a brief discussion with Moxen, Karst translated. “Looks like the roto-lifts here are malfunctioning. We’ll use one of the ramps.”

  As Karst was talking, Moxen rapidly reversed the cart and accelerated back the way they came before they got trapped by more traffic, and then turned into a smaller cross-passage. A series of quick shortcuts later, they headed down an empty, spiral ramp.

  Engels was just about to remark on the sudden lack of crowds when their turn brought them into view of a roadblock, manned with half a dozen armed humans in nondescript coveralls.

  “What’s this?” she said as Moxen brought the cart to a halt.

  “I am sorry, Commodore,” the Ruxin said quietly.

  Engels hardly had time to be surprised at Moxen’s ability to speak Earthan before the cart was surrounded by fighters pointing weapons at her. She was much more shocked at the woman who stepped forward, blaster braced on her hip.

  “Hello, Carla,” Ramirez said. “Long time no see.”

  Chapter 37

  Battleship Indomitable, maintenance passageways

  “Ramirez,” Engels snarled deep in her throat. “You just don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”

  “I could say the same for you, chiquita. Walking around without an escort could get you killed. Literally.” She grinned, showing teeth dark from chewing chaw, a common mix of narcotic leaves of
various plants, cured and processed.

  Engels moved to get out of the cart and tried to use the distraction to activate her handtab, but Karst grabbed her wrist and took it from her. She swung her head in shock. “You?”

  Karst winked. “Surprise.”

  “What about your girlfriend? Cynthia?”

  “I dunno. Major, what about Cynthia?” he asked Ramirez.

  Ramirez drew her thumb across her throat. “She whined too much. Sorry, Karst.”

  Karst shrugged. “That’s okay. Lots of sweet young things around here, hot to hook up with a hero of the Liberation.”

  Engels cudgeled her sluggish mind until it got a grasp on this new, completely unexpected situation. She’d known there were spies in their midst, but she hadn’t expected someone so close. It made her wonder who else might be compromised.

  “Come on,” said Ramirez. “We haven’t got all day to yak.” She raised her blaster and put a round of hot plasma into Moxen’s head. The Ruxin slumped, a boneless puddle.

  Engels gasped and knelt next to the body, hands reaching helplessly. “You didn’t have to do that!”

  “Loose ends,” said Ramirez. “Hide that squid, Karst, and get her handtab.”

  “Will do.” Karst hauled the dead Ruxin into the back of the cart, slid into the driver’s seat and drove off. Two of Ramirez’ goons moved toward her, one with a roll of fibertape.

  Engels considered trying to take one of their weapons and fight it out right here. Straker had insisted she improve her hand-to-hand skills, working on her Kung Jiu, knife and baton techniques. Weight training in double gravity had also maintained the strength she’d gained from the Hok biotech injection.

  But seven to one was poor odds, and they seemed to want her alive. Better to hide her strength and skill until the right moment. Besides, she needed to know Ramirez’ intentions. Was she working alone, or was the break with DeChang just a ruse?

  “So, what’s your game?” Engels asked as she allowed the thugs to tape her wrists behind her. They took her sidearm and searched her flight suit, removing her comlink and other personal gear. She thought they missed a stylus in her sleeve pocket, but she gave no sign. “Revenge?”

  Ramirez took a long stride to slug Engels in the gut. “Revenge will be a bonus. I’m after bigger things. Gag her and bring her along.”

  They taped her mouth and frog-marched her in Ramirez’ wake as she led them through an empty maintenance passageway and down steps into what looked like an auxiliary hydraulic room. Enormous high-pressure pipes crisscrossed the space, with junctions and fittings to control the flow of fluid for the big actuators that moved heavy machinery, from oversized thruster nozzles to the battleship’s titanic beam turrets.

  In one corner was a field cot, with no pillow or blanket. They re-taped her hands in front of her, then used more of the unbreakable stuff to form ropes that attached her wrists and ankles to the cot’s frame, with enough play to lie down, sit up, and use the tiny field chem-toilet placed on the deck there. A bottle and a blanket completed the ensemble.

  “How long will I be here?”

  “As long as it takes.” She took out Engels’ comlink earpiece and eyed it. “You know, I couldn’t figure out how I was going to do this with that AI watching everything—and then you let it leave. Thanks for that.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Ramirez waggled a finger at Engels. “Naw. On the off chance something goes wrong and we lose you, I’m not giving you free intel. Just be a good little girl, like you always are, and you and your precious Liberator might come out of this alive. DeChang is more merciful than I am, lucky for you.” She turned on her heel and left.

  ***

  “You found it where?” Straker asked, urgency in his voice as he held Engels’ comlink earpiece. He stood in the big conference room that was turning into the nerve center of the Liberation, separate from fleet operations on the bridge.

  A bridge where Carla Engels should be sitting.

  Damn me for a fool, Straker thought. I got careless and distracted. Indomitable is so big, I can’t think of her like a ship. She’s a flying fortress, bigger then Freiheit when assembled. That means she’s not really secure.

  “It was found in the main officers’ mess, on the seat of a chair,” said Heiser. “We tried to run a trace, but without Indy and the SAI’s, creating an internal security com-logging and location system was put on the back burner. I know your next question, sir, but there’s no vid available of the area. We’re working on getting security in place, but I don’t have the manpower. Trusted manpower, that is. I got lots of cannon fodder, but half of them think we won already and discipline’s going to shit.”

  “That’s why we have to keep pushing forward—and we were, until this happened. She didn’t make it to Engineering, according to Chief Quade’s people, and she hasn’t reported for the last six hours. Dammit, with this many outsiders aboard, I should have given her bodyguards.” Straker skewered Heiser with a glare. “I’m not blaming you, Spear, I blame myself—but I’m relying on you to fix it. Starting now, we lock down. Get those cannon fodder doing sweeps under reliable noncoms and junior officers. Anyone without a good reason to be here, shuttle them to a Ruxin fortress. Check all outgoing cargo and craft. Pass all this to your network—Gurung, Quade, all your top people—and get them working. Hop to it.”

  “Roger wilco, sir,” said Heiser, spinning on his heel and moving off.

  Kraxor stepped closer. “I’ve already ordered all Ruxins to search and report. I’ve sent my warriors out to supervise the neuters and deport any unneeded ones. But this raises the question of why.”

  “Why?” Straker demanded.

  “Exactly,” Kraxor said. “If she’s been taken or harmed—why?”

  Straker punched his palm. “I don’t know. To hurt Liberation fleet ops, I guess.”

  “There are other competent naval officers. I myself could take charge and do a creditable job. No, there is some other reason, something unique to Commodore Engels.”

  “You have an idea?”

  Kraxor fanned his sub-tentacles. “If I were unable to strike the Liberator, perhaps I’d target his mate.”

  “So you think it’s personal?”

  “It might be. Or, it could be a tactic to distract the driving force in the Liberation from his goals.”

  Straker slammed a fist onto the heavy table, causing everyone in the room to turn and look. “They’re succeeding. They better not have harmed her, or…”

  “Or killed her? I suspect they won’t. Were you to find her dead, your distraction would be lessened, not increased. More likely, they will keep her and try to use her against you somehow. You must be prepared for coercive threats. Extortion, I believe the Earthan word is.”

  Straker felt a tremendous anger rise up in him, a rage like he hadn’t felt since dealing with Yates and his wickedness, tinged with fear for Carla’s safety. “If they hurt her, I’ll shove them out the nearest airlock and watch them freeze with a smile on my face.”

  “That is what they want—this weakness you’re showing.”

  “Weakness?”

  “Yes. You humans and your ties of love give your enemies leverage. That is a weakness.”

  Straker seized Kraxor’s tentacles and shoved him back. “It’s not weakness! It’s strength!”

  Kraxor writhed in evident pain. “It is strength to attack your friends?”

  Straker let him go, working his hands, shuddering in anger. He picked up a chair and smashed it to the deck. “No. No, I apologize, Kraxor. It’s my fault. It’s my job to keep her safe, and I neglected that duty. I took her security for granted.” He turned to Redwolf. “When we find her, you hand-pick a security detail, a special service to guard our senior officers, ministers and other key personnel. Draw from the Breakers and vet them thoroughly. Tell Heiser to institute a buddy system for the troops, too. Nobody moves around this ship alone anymore.”

  “I will, sir. You want I should go loo
k for her now?”

  “Sure. I’m safe here with all these people.” He didn’t say that he might not stay here for long; he wanted to get Redwolf looking instead of guarding. Forewarned, Straker felt he could handle any threat to his person.

  When Redwolf had left, Straker turned back toward Kraxor, but when he did, he saw someone quite unexpected in the doorway.

  Loco.

  Dressed in a fancy commodore’s uniform, with double gold-plated sidearms and an oversized knife on his belt, he swaggered in with Tachina right behind him. Two huge men with fancy fur hats followed, armed with pistol and sword. The crowd parted for them, and the marine honor guard along the walls shifted their weapons uneasily.

  “Derek!” he cried in a loud voice. “How’s it hangin’, buddy?”

  Still with rage running through his bloodstream, Straker found his target. He charged Loco.

  The two fancy bodyguards swept out their swords and stepped in front of their “commodore.” If they expected Straker to stop, they were mistaken. He sidestepped the surprised slash of one of them, grasped the hilt of the blade and wrenched it out of his hand, kicking the man’s legs out from under him in the same motion. Using the sword’s cutlass hilt, he smashed the other guard in the chest, knocking him sprawling.

  He was about to do the same to Loco when two of Kraxor’s tentacles grasped his sword arm. “Admiral. Admiral. Please, Admiral!”

  Straker resisted the urge to apply the edge of the blade to the offending octo-arms. Instead, he pried loose one with his free hand and shook off the other after dropping the sword to the deck. “Loco, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Whoa, whoa, buddy, take it easy.” Loco reached back to wrap an arm around Tachina. “We’ve been out having fun, liberating the galaxy, just like you wanted! Sorry we’re a little late, but there’s no need to freak out.”

  Straker grabbed Loco by the collar and shook him. “I’m freaked out because Carla’s been kidnapped, maybe even murdered, and you’re out playing space pirate. Then you show up like everything’s just peachy.”