by Ryk Brown
Captain Tuplo ascended the short ladder, stepped onto the port landing, and moved through the hatch into the corridor.
“Captain,” Dalen called from the forward end of the corridor. “He did it again.”
“Did what again, Voss?” the captain asked as he headed toward him down the narrow corridor.
“Marcus packed so much shit into the cargo hold that I couldn’t get to the engineering crawl spaces if I wanted to. How the fuck am I supposed to fix something if it breaks in flight?”
“I thought your job was to make sure things didn’t break in flight,” Captain Tuplo remarked as he reached the door to his cabin.
“Of course, but…”
“I’ll make sure Marcus shifts the load around to keep the crawl space hatches clear once we off-load some of the cargo on Paradar.”
“Thank you, Captain, but can you tell him not to…”
“You know, Dalen, you are an adult. You can tell him yourself, you know.”
“He doesn’t listen to me, Cap’n. He only listens to you.”
Captain Tuplo sighed. Dalen Voss was a gifted mechanic, but he was a kid, barely old enough to leave home. Because of that, Dalen felt uncomfortable standing up to Marcus, who was old enough to be his father. And Marcus saw little reason to listen to anything Dalen had to say, regardless of how skilled the young man was at keeping the ship’s systems in proper working order. “I’ll speak to Marcus,” he promised as he disappeared into his cabin.
Captain Tuplo closed the door, removed his overcoat and hung it up on the hook on the wall next to his gun belt. Although runs in the more prosperous regions of the Pentaurus sector did not pay as well, especially after the higher port fees and propellant costs, at least he didn’t have to carry a weapon at all times.
He slipped off his foul-weather boots and heavy trousers, replacing them with black pants, deck shoes, and his captain’s shirt. They were carrying passengers on this trip, and he would have to pass through the forward cabin to get to the flight deck. If the good side of plying the inner Pentaurus sector was not having to carry a gun, the bad side was always having to play the part of captain in front of passengers.
Captain Tuplo quickly shook the water from his thick beard and smoothed it down with his hand. He then placed the traditional captain’s hat on his head and exited his cabin.
A few steps forward and Captain Tuplo was through the forward hatch and in the forward passenger cabin. Between this cabin and the one above the cargo bay, the Seiiki could comfortably carry fifty paying passengers. It had been a big financial gamble for the captain to invest in the conversion of those spaces to carry passengers, but it had increased their earning potential significantly, especially after the idea of traveling by jump drive became more commonplace. Whenever possible, Captain Tuplo had chosen to sell the seats directly, and at a lower price than the passenger-only carriers, hoping to attract people who normally could not afford the high cost of interstellar travel. It had worked, at least for a while. But eventually, other carriers had realized the potential of that same market, trading higher per-seat prices for volume instead. These days, the only advantage the Seiiki had was the fact that they had not tried to cram too many seats into too small a space.
As usual, the captain earned more than a few worried glances from passengers. With his thick beard and wavy brown hair sticking out at odd angles from under his cap, Connor Tuplo did not exactly engender confidence in those who laid eyes on him, at least not at first. It usually took a few minutes of conversation with the rather quiet captain, and a bit of solid eye contact, to overcome the initial negative reaction to his appearance. But sooner or later, his blue eyes and his polite manner would win a person over.
However, today he was running late, and he avoided the passengers by moving quickly forward. Moments later, he was passing Neli, who was securing the forward hatch.
“Full load?” the captain asked.
“Yes, sir,” Neli replied. “Both cabins.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he replied as turned the corner and ascended the steps up onto the flight deck.
The cockpit of the Seiiki was where Captain Tuplo felt most at home. She was not the newest, nor the most modern of ships. Like most other jump ships navigating the Pentaurus sector, her jump drive had been added on shortly after the Karuzari and their leader, posing as the mythical savior Na-Tan from the ancient legends of Origin, liberated the Pentaurus cluster. But unlike many converted FTL ships, she still had her FTL drives. For some reason, the previous owners had opted for both systems, which had cut into their cargo space. When the decision to carry passengers had been made, all plans to remove the old FTL systems and regain that lost cargo space were abandoned. That had been a decision that Marcus vehemently opposed. ‘Passengers just complicate everything’, had been his primary argument. Of course, he had been correct to some extent. But financially speaking, it had gotten them a lot more paying runs and was rapidly approaching the point where it would finally pay for itself.
“How are we looking?” Captain Tuplo asked Josh as he climbed into the left seat.
“Pressure on the starboard propellant pump is bouncing around again,” Josh replied. “I’m running the backup just to be safe.”
“I thought Dalen fixed that?”
“I keep telling everyone that Dalen isn’t as great as you all think he is, Cap’n.”
“It’s not Dalen’s fault, Josh,” Captain Tuplo defended. “He asked for a new pump and I told him to keep the old one going for a few more hops. The budget is tight enough as it is.”
“Why don’t you just have him swap the primary with the backup, then?”
“The secondary takes twice as long to remove,” the captain explained. “We’d be down for a couple days. Primary only takes a day to swap out.”
“We gonna make enough from this run to replace it?”
“If we don’t get shafted on fees again,” the captain replied. “Did you file?”
“Yup. Got our departure clearance a few minutes ago. It’s good until twenty-two twenty local, which gives us about four minutes to get off the ground.”
“Then let’s get going,” the captain said as he donned his comm-set. “Palee Ground, Seiiki, ready for rollback.”
“Seiiki, Palee Ground. Cleared for rollback. Once clear, taxi via bravo delta foxtrot to departure pad six left and contact tower.”
“Seiiki cleared for rollback,” Captain Tuplo replied over the comms. “Bravo delta foxtrot to d-pad six left and go to tower.” Captain Tuplo nodded at Josh, who activated the Seiiki’s four, powered main gear, sending the ship rolling slowly away from the terminal building. The captain watched the various exterior camera views on the display screens, while keeping an eye on the proximity alert system. Although there was plenty of room for them to maneuver, even in the crowded spaceport complex, one never knew when some idiot in a ground vehicle was going to suddenly dart across your path, mistakenly believing he could make it across safely.
Once clear, the Seiiki stopped, its gear rotated, and the ship pivoted to port until its nose was pointed toward the entrance to Bravo taxiway. In a few minutes, they would be on the departure pad and would lift off into the rainy night skies of Palee, climbing to their jump altitude.
* * *
Yanni Hiller sat in his office, studying a set of technical drawings he had copied from the Corinairan version of the Earth’s Data Ark. There were still so many technologies from Earth’s past, before the bio-digital plague, that had yet to be developed. At times, he felt guilty for the unrestricted access he had to the Ark’s data files. The people of the Darvano and Savoy systems, the last two systems in the cluster that were still active members of the Sol-Pentaurus Alliance, were still being fed the technologies contained within the data files at a measured pace, so as not to upset the economies of the sector. Although most of the technologies contained within were inferior to their own, there were still many areas of study, and many ideas that they had not
yet explored. A few of those had been exploited by Ranni Enterprises, as well as Deliza’s late father, Prince Casimir Ta’Akar, in order to not only fund the Alliance’s defense against the Jung empire back in the Sol sector, but also by Deliza and her company, in order to give them a running start at continued success. It was a decision that had not sat well with either of them. But at the time, Deliza had nearly exhausted her late father’s fortune funding the Alliance’s efforts back in the Sol sector, as well as helping with the recovery of the Earth itself.
And so, Yanni found himself studying the files, looking for technologies that they could bid on to develop, if given permission by the Corinairan Ark committee. It was the best way to kill time while Deliza was away.
Yanni couldn’t help but worry whenever Deliza was away on business. In the beginning, he traveled everywhere with her, but as the years went by, and his own responsibilities at Ranni Enterprises became more demanding of his time; he was more often than not forced to stay behind. At least he was comforted in the knowledge that their trusted friend, Loki, was her pilot, and that wherever she traveled, their security chief had always hired protective services to keep her safe. Although tensions between Corinair and the Takaran nobles had eased over the years, there were still a few powerful noblemen on Takara who would prefer her dead and gone. For as long as the last surviving heir to house Ta’Akar breathed air, those who led the revolution that resulted in her father’s untimely demise had no choice but to constantly look over their shoulders.
Yanni would not admit it to anyone, but he often took satisfaction at the thought of those so-called noblemen, in fear of the retribution of Deliza Ta’Akar. To Yanni, she was the sweetest, most gentle woman he had even known. And although she had gained a reputation as a ruthless businesswoman in recent years, he could not imagine her seeking revenge against those who killed not only her father, but her younger sister as well.
“Are you busy?” a familiar female voice asked from the door.
“Lael,” Yanni greeted as he rose from his chair. He immediately noticed the blanketed bundle in her arms. “Oh my…is this… Is this Ailsa?”
“Yes,” Lael replied as she entered Yanni’s office. “I wanted to meet Loki when he returned, and I know how much you wanted to meet Ailsa.”
“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there when she was born.”
“It’s quite all right,” Lael assured him. “I know how busy you have been lately. You don’t even accompany Deliza anymore.”
“I’m starting to realize how difficult it has been for you the last few months,” Yanni said as he reached out to peek at baby Ailsa. “Oh, she is so tiny.”
“According to my mother, all the women in our family have tiny babies.”
“You wouldn’t know it by the size of your brothers,” Yanni joked.
“Would you like to hold her?”
“I don’t know,” Yanni said, suddenly becoming apprehensive. “Do you think it’s all right? I mean, I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Just support her head like this,” Lael explained, demonstrating for him.
Yanni accepted the infant from Lael, taking great care to be as gentle as possible. “She is amazing, Lael. You and Loki must be so happy.”
“Yes, we are. I’ll be even happier when they return, though. I don’t get a moment’s rest while Loki is away. He is so good with her. When he is home, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m the one with the breasts, I’d never get to hold her,” Lael commented with a giggle. She took advantage of the brief respite and sat down. “Any idea when they will arrive?”
“Doran called just before you arrived. He said they should be jumping into the system at any moment now, so about ten minutes or so.”
“Good,” Lael replied. “It’s getting late and I’m starved.”
“Deliza and I are having food delivered to the office tonight. You and Loki are more than welcome to join us.”
“Thank you, no. If I know Deliza, it’s a working dinner, and I don’t think I can handle watching Biarra doing my job.”
“Don’t worry, it will still be your job when you’re ready to return. You know that.”
Lael sat watching Yanni bounce baby Ailsa gently in his arms, cooing to her softly. “When are you two going to start having kids?”
“We talked about it, but you know how Deliza is. She wants to make sure the company is completely secure, financially speaking, before we start a family.”
“Yes, I do know how she is,” Lael agreed. “I don’t suppose she’s ever given you an estimate?”
“Let’s just say it’s going to be a few more years and leave it at that.” Yanni looked down at baby Ailsa as the infant grasped his pinky. “Although, if she spends any time with you, little one, it may happen much sooner than she thinks… Yes.”
* * *
Six jump flashes appeared in orbit above Takara, each of them occurring within seconds of one another. From each flash, massive ships, with black hulls trimmed in crimson, appeared. Without any provocation or warning, the six ships opened fire on the Takaran warships in orbit.
The Takaran warships returned fire without hesitation, each of them targeting a different ship. But in that first moment of battle, they were already equally matched in number. Even worse, they appeared to be outgunned.
The Takaran ships began to maneuver, breaking ranks and making for open space in differing directions, making it difficult for the invading ships to concentrate their fire on any one of them. Two Takaran cruisers jumped away, reappearing only a few million kilometers away in order to turn and attack from a more advantageous angle without taking fire. As they turned, another black and crimson ship, this one a battleship, jumped in to ambush them. Within seconds, both cruisers’ shields were overwhelmed, and a few seconds later, they were destroyed.
The remaining four ships in orbit over Takara fought bravely. Left with no alternative, they came about sharply to bring their plasma torpedo tubes to bear on the unknown intruders once they cleared the planet. One ship took rounds from a dozen rail guns, as well as plasma weapons. Her shields failed, and the enemy fire soon cut her in half, devastating explosions tearing through her as she came apart. The second ship, a destroyer, was more maneuverable and had already opened up on one of the smaller attacking ships with their forward plasma torpedo cannons. Firing in rapid succession to the point of overheating her plasma generators, the Takaran destroyer scored the first enemy kill of the sudden and unexpected engagement, tearing apart one of the black and crimson frigates. But the battleship that had ambushed the previous two Takaran cruisers appeared behind the destroyer without warning, cutting her victory short with its massive rail guns. Seconds later, the destroyer became the fourth Takaran warship to fall to the attack.
The remaining two frigates were no match for the enemy fleet, and although they chose to die defending their world, their efforts were in vain. Within five minutes of the initial jump flashes, the once mighty Takaran Empire had fallen.
The question was, to whom?
CHAPTER TWO
Commander Golan sat behind the captain’s desk in his ready room, studying the supply requests from the ship’s various department heads. As the Avendahl’s executive officer, supplies were not his responsibility. However, his new quartermaster had only a few months on the job, and a little oversight was necessary.
“XO, Communications,” the call came over the intercom.
Commander Golan pressed the intercom button. “XO.”
“Message from Captain Navarro, sir,” the communications officer reported. “He is going to be delayed another day. A mechanical problem with his private shuttle has him temporarily grounded on Getzten.”
Commander Golan sighed in resignation. “Very well,” he replied, as he switched off the intercom. His own shore leave would be delayed. It was not an uncommon occurrence for the captain’s return to be postponed a day or two. He was, after all, the captain, and the owner of the Avendahl. Relations between the Dar
vano system and the noble houses of Takara had remained peaceful since the Takaran revolution seven years ago. Thus, both Captain Navarro and Commander Golan had been spending much more time on the surface of Corinair with their families. So much so, in fact, that Commander Golan’s family had nearly doubled in size. And in a few days, yet another son would be added to House Golan on Corinair.
“XO, Watch!” another voice called urgently over the intercom.
“XO,” the commander replied.
Over the ready room’s door, the ship’s status light turned red, and an audible alert sounded. “General quarters!”
“Four ships just jumped in! They’re firing!”
“Raise shields!” Commander Golan ordered as he rose from his seat and moved quickly toward the door.
It took the commander only seconds to exit the ready room and walk onto the bridge. “Report!” he bellowed.
Suddenly, the bridge shook, and all the view screens on the forward bulkhead flickered.
“Two battleships, and two heavy cruisers!” Commander Hyam replied. “They jumped in at close range and opened fire without warning!”
“Did you get our shields up?”
“Yes, sir!” Commander Hyam assured him. “The moment they fired.”
“We’ve lost shields two through seven, port side!” the officer in charge of the Avendahl’s defensive systems reported.
“Where are they?” Commander Golan demanded as he stepped up onto the command platform.
“Two groups now!” Lieutenant Cahnis reported from the sensor station. “A battleship and cruiser in each! One group is still coming dead-on, the second is turning to our port! Second group is jumping away!”
“Ship is at general quarters!” Lieutenant Permon reported from the communications station.
“Weapons free, Mister Rogal,” Commander Golan ordered as he sat down in the command chair. “Fire at will!”
“Weapons free! Fire at will, aye!” the Lieutenant acknowledged. “Targeting all forward weapons onto the two ships directly ahead.”