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Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy)

Page 24

by David G. Johnson


  “Sorry, Yasu, you overreached with that one,” Mark answered, a smug, cat-ate-the-canary grin crossing his face as he folded his hands and sat back in his chair. “Class A starport notwithstanding, all three of these systems are border systems, technological dump holes where you aren’t going to find work unless you are a janitorial crew.”

  “Dawnstar is rich,” Voide answered, but knew she was breathing thin atmo with this line. “They have high-tech core worlds just rimward of here. Jobs would filter to the border systems via System Express quickly enough.”

  “Dawnstar hasn’t used mercs since it allied with the Provisional Imperium. They hire direct. Scooped up every shade merc and ronin as would trade in the freelance lifestyle for a steady paycheck.”

  “Is that so? I guess I had better let Molon know.”

  “He knows full well, and so do you. Besides, Hatacks also happens to have a mapped jump point to Furi. I noticed you are also licensed for Theocracy contracts.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, playing both sides is dangerous.”

  “Now who is playing dumb? Eighty percent of free mercs have opposing faction licenses. That’s the only way inter-faction trade happens. There is nothing illegal about that.”

  “I don’t think you are running purely corporate contracts, though.” Mark said, shaking his head. “I think it is much more likely you are working directly for Enoch and the Theocracy. Using a PI contract to gain access to PI systems for the purpose of conducting military operations for an opposing faction, that would not only be terrorism, but treason.”

  This was no passing threat. Voide knew independents were allowed to run civilian, corporate contracts across faction lines. But they were expressly forbidden to take military contracts directly from any factional government if they entered another faction’s territory under a commercial trade license. They had really taken a gamble with an anonymous contract to rescue the Salzmanns from Ratuen in the first place. Fortunately, it had been the Brothers of the Lion who had issued the contract. Who knew how the PI or GalSec would view that?

  “If you already have all the answers, Mark, then why are you even bothering with questions?”

  Voide was still fighting to contain her rage. Indignation was at least a plausible reason for her to keep stalling any straightforward answers, but her rising fury was threatening her control. Losing it now would not only jeopardize the entire Star Wolf crew, but might just land her a quick execution by trigger-happy security teams aboard Revenge.

  “Enough, Yasu,” Russel said, pounding the table in frustration. “Just tell me the truth! I promise to protect you. We will consider you a cooperating witness and can arrange immunity from prosecution if you testify.”

  Voide seethed, the balance within her tipping suddenly toward violence. Mark’s suggestion that she dishonor herself and sell out Molon and the rest of Star Wolf’s crew pushed her to the brink.

  Mark knew her better than that. She would never sell out her captain. Was he trying to rile her in order to put her off her game and force a mistake? That had to be it. Ripping his throat out would not be the most productive response, but she wasn’t ready to rule out that possibility just yet.

  As Voide pondered her next move, warning claxons sounded throughout the conference room. Revenge’s computer announced the situation on a ship-wide broadcast.

  Warning. Proximity jump detected. Initiating red alert.

  “A proximity jump?” Mark announced as he jumped to his feet, dislodging the lightly magnetized base of the conference room chair and sending it toppling behind him. “That’s a Prophane tactic.”

  Voide’s mind had leapt to the same conclusion. Her heart pounded and she felt her skin go cold. It couldn’t be. Not here.

  “It is,” Voide answered, scrambling to think of any more feasible explanation than Prophane all the way on the spinward border of Humaniti space. “But with enough time and preparation, non-Prophane have pulled it off as a system defense tactic.”

  “Impossible,” Mark said, shaking his head. “We’re on a Provisional Imperium ship in allied Dawnstar space. This is no defense maneuver.”

  With that, Mark Russel turned, sprinting toward the bridge. Mark was right. Dawnstar had no reason to execute a proximity jump near a PI cruiser, but the alternative was unimaginable.

  With the alert drawing Mark’s attention away from the interrogation, Voide followed him instinctively toward the bridge, disregarding the possibility of armed security waiting to kill her at the first sign of trouble. She could only hope they were more concerned with reacting to a proximity jump alert than executing a visiting Pariah. As they entered the bridge, the security officers were nowhere in sight.

  “Admiral Starling,” Mark shouted above the sound of the warning alerts. “What is going on?”

  “You heard the alert, Russel,” Starling replied from the captain’s chair on the bridge. “Some blasted fool ship just dropped out of voidspace not a thousand klicks off our port bow. Lieutenant, do you have an ID from their transponder yet?”

  “Yes, admiral,” the sensor officer replied. “It’s a Hive-class pocket carrier flying an unaligned transponder code, UCA Hornet’s Nest.”

  Voide did not recognize the ship name, but she knew an unescorted pocket carrier attacking a cruiser one-on-one was madness. It would be giving up six thousand tons at least, and even with a full complement of fighters, the pocket carrier would be severely outgunned.

  “What’s her status?” Starling replied.

  “She just pulled a rapid dump deploy of fifty short-range assault fighters flying unaligned transponder codes. The carrier just raised screens.”

  “XO sound battle stations,” Starling commanded, yelling above the clamor of alarms. “Raise screens and deploy intercept fighters from aft bays. Reinforce and harden forward and broadside screens port and starboard.”

  “Aye, sir,” a tall, thin man near the admiral, with the uniform markings of a captain, responded and began barking orders to various stations.

  Mark grabbed Voide’s arm at the elbow with a vice-like grip. She bit back a yelp of pain and surprise.

  “Are they with you?” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  “No, Mark,” Voide hissed, wrenching her arm free and meeting his gaze while reining in her instinct to throat-punch him. “I have no idea who they are. We have nothing to do with this.”

  His eyes belied his suspicion. Trust came hard to GalSec agents. That was part of the training: distrust everyone. Fortunately, the ambient noise and chaos of prepping for battle had kept their conversation, as well as Voide’s presence on the bridge, off the admiral’s mind. Suddenly, that became a decided disadvantage.

  “All hands suit up. Emergency decompression in five minutes,” Starling ordered across general comms. “And shut off that claxon, I can’t think straight with all that racket.”

  The young sensor officer touched the panel in front of him and silenced the audible alert, while red lights above the doors and main screen continued to flash a silent warning of the alert status. The carryover ringing in Voide’s ears was the least of her concerns at the moment.

  “But admiral,” Voide interjected with far more passion than she generally exhibited. “What about Star Wolf’s crew in the brig? They still have vac suits on, but our helmets were confiscated when we were taken aboard. You need to send a security team to return those helmets or the crew will die when you vent atmo.”

  “Not my problem, Prophane,” Admiral Starling replied with a steely satisfaction in his tone. “You should have thought of that before you violated Dawnstar space and engaged in acts of terrorism.”

  Voide spun toward Mark Russell, grabbing his arm nearly as hard as he had grabbed hers.

  “Mark!” she pleaded. “By Imperial law Star Wolf’s crew are innocent until proven guilty. You can’t let this happen.”

  “She’s right, admiral,” Mark said, turning his attention to Starling and adopting a commanding tone. “Those
prisoners have not yet been interrogated, and it is believed they have information vital to Imperial security. By order of GalSec, every effort must be made to ensure their safety. Deploy a security team at once to return their vac suit helmets and delay depressurization until you have confirmation the prisoners are prepped and ready.”

  Admiral Starling stood up and faced him. His left arm hung at his side but ended in a balled fist. He snapped at Mark, pointing with his right index finger while his face reddened.

  “You sentimental idiot, are you trying to kill us all? Do you know what happens if a hull breaches while pressurized?”

  “Yes, admiral, I do,” Mark replied with a matter-of-fact tone. “Therefore I suggest you stop wasting time arguing and issue the order, so we can avoid that eventuality.”

  Starling loosed a frustrated snarl and spun to address his executive officer.

  “XO, make it so, double-time.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The gangly executive officer stepped to the security station and issued the order via the bridge security officer. Suddenly, another alert blared through the bridge, this time changing the flashing warning lights to a rapidly blinking pattern accompanied by a repeating, whooping siren.

  “We are out of time, admiral,” announced the lieutenant manning the sensor station. “Those fighters just launched a full barrage of missiles.”

  “Are screens up?” Starling asked, taking his seat in the captain’s chair once again.

  “Yes sir, up and hardened, but at two missiles per fighter, we are going to take a serious pounding. I’m not sure the screens will hold if even a third gets through point-defense.”

  “Any idea of their payload?”

  “Negative, admiral. The missiles are shielded. We won’t know what type of warheads they are carrying until they hit. If they are nukes, this is bad news.”

  Voide’s brow furrowed. A rapid-dump deployment was always a risky maneuver, even for only deploying a few fighters. Too many things could go wrong that could have catastrophic impacts to the carrier, especially if the fighters were armed with tactical nukes. However, a pocket carrier pulling a rapid dump, fifty-fighter deployment was sheer madness. Still, there was something very familiar about this maneuver. Where had she seen this before? Every part of her tingled a warning, but she could not pinpoint why this scenario filled her with déjà vu.

  “Where are we on weapons? Have intercept fighters deployed yet?” Starling asked, addressing the weapons officer. “Bring all forward main batteries to bear on that carrier.”

  “Fighters are deploying now but out of position to intercept the missiles. They won’t get there in time. Main batteries are still powering up, sir. Four minutes to firing charge and a confirmed targeting solution. Point defense guns and secondary batteries are online and ready.”

  “Set all forward and port side point-defense turrets and even the secondary batteries to target those incoming missiles.”

  “Sir, secondary batteries are too slow to track missiles. We won’t hit ten percent.”

  “Don’t lecture me, boy. Secondary batteries won’t pierce their screens, but every missile we hit is one less that hits us.”

  “Aye sir, secondary batteries and point defense targeting incoming missiles.”

  As Revenge’s bridge officers scrambled to execute the admiral’s orders, Starling turned his attention toward Mark once again.

  “Russel, we can’t wait anymore, I am sorry about your prisoners, but this ship comes first.”

  Mark nodded and flashed a sympathetic look toward Voide. She was a bridge officer and understood the admiral had to depressurize before those missiles hit. She could only hope the security teams got to the crew in the brig in time.

  “XO begin depressurization,” Starling commanded. “Prioritize the brig section last. Tell those security teams to move like their feet were on fire.”

  “Aye, sir. Security teams report they have already reached the brig. They’ve started distributing the helmets.”

  Voide breathed a sigh of relief. At least the crew would not suffocate in the stockade. She just hoped Revenge survived long enough for it to matter.

  The bridge crew began attaching helmets to their vac suits. Mark stepped to a closet at the side of the bridge. Pulling a breathing mask and tank from the shelf, he tossed them to Voide before himself stepping into a vac suit.

  “You remembered?” she said, noting Mark had not offered her a vac suit.

  “Yeah. Prophane biology is hard to forget, especially yours.”

  Voide cracked a smile as she affixed her ventilator. Mark had once seemed so kind. Where had that young man gone? It was hard to look at him now and see that eager young GalSec officer in the man he was today. Ambition and living as though life were one big chess match had forever warped the good man she once knew.

  Other than the buzz of bridge officers carrying out their duties, all hands silently awaited the impact of the incoming missile barrage. The high-pitched, stuttered whine of the point defense batteries quickly faded in Voide’s ears as the atmosphere vented into the pressurized and heavily armored compartment of the ship designed for that purpose. She placed the intra-aural comm link attached to the breathing mask in her ear. She was the only one on the ship now openly exposed to the depressurized atmosphere on board. She was also the only one whose body was built to survive it.

  Voide had heard that Prophane military vessels ran continuously in a depressurized state, outfitting the crew with respirators and intra-aural communicators. That way, even an ambush would find the Prophane ready for battle. She often wondered what it would be like flying through space in a ship full of her own people. Unfortunately, unless enough children were captured and raised to crew a ship full of Pariahs, that would only ever be a dream.

  In their current situation, depressurization might not make a difference. Depending on the quality of the hardened screens Revenge was sporting, the skill of the point defense gunners, and the type of payload those warheads were carrying, surviving this first volley was by no means assured. Even if the point defense and secondary batteries took out half, a good showing at that, fifty missiles would overload the screens with enough payload left over to shred the hull and irradiate most of the crew on the port side if they were carrying tac-nukes.

  On the other hand, if they were merely standard laser loads, hardened screens on a cruiser the size of Revenge, not to mention her reflective armor, should be enough to repel the attack almost completely. The captain of the pocket carrier had to know that a cruiser would be running hardened screens over a reflec hull, so the hope that these missiles were carrying laser loads was slim. That is, unless the carrier captain was some novice idiot. Voide seriously doubted that an idiot would be capable of pulling off a proximity jump and a fifty-fighter, rapid-dump deploy.

  Still, there was something unshakably familiar about this whole situation. It was maddening that she could not place exactly why.

  The missiles shook the ship violently as explosions peppered the cruiser down its port side. No radiation warning sounded across the comms, but excited chatter and damage reports rolled across the bridge’s local channel.

  “Admiral,” the security station announced. “The port broadside and bow screens are down, but ship reports minimal damage. It looks like they were carrying standard high-explosive warheads sir, not nukes.”

  “What about the fighters? Are they advancing? Are our interceptors in position yet?”

  “Intercept fighters closing, admiral, but…”

  “But what, lieutenant?” the frustration in the admiral’s voice was clear, even across the comm line.”

  “The enemy fighters, sir. They’ve disengaged. They have hit a straight Z axis vector away from us.”

  Suddenly Voide’s memory clicked. She knew where she had seen this before. This was not a standard military maneuver; this was a GalSec, Psi Ops tactic!

  “Spin the ship, admiral!” Voide shouted across the comm line, her voice ca
rrying the weight of command as though she were one of Revenge’s bridge officers rather than a prisoner.

  “Who said that?” the admiral snapped. “What twinkle-toed dreck-eater is mucking up my comm lines?”

  “This is your Pariah dinner guest, and I just figured out what is happening. Spin this ship and get the hardened starboard screens between you and that carrier, now!”

  Starling spun to glare at Voide through the visor of his vac suit. His face was red and the admiral looked like he was ready to rush Voide that very moment.

  “It’s bad enough I have to take orders from some GalSec spook,” Admiral Starling screamed over the bridge comms, spittle spattering the inside of his helmet visor. “But I’ll be spaced if I am taking orders from a Prophane prisoner!”

  “Gunner,” Starling said, turning to face his weapons officer. “Do we have a firing solution on that carrier for port side and forward batteries yet?”

  “Targeting confirmation coming through now sir. Firing all port side and forward main batteries in sixty seconds.”

  “You don’t have sixty seconds,” Voide pleaded to no avail. “Spin the ship now, admiral,”

  She saw through the visor on Mark’s vac suit a look of comprehension cross his face. He had come to the same conclusion.

  “She’s right, admiral,” Mark said emphatically. “You need to do an emergency one-eighty roll along the spinal axis, now!”

  “I’m about to have weapons lock, Russel,” the admiral responded. “The guns on that carrier won’t put a dent in our armor even with screens down, and the fighters have disengaged. In less than a minute our main batteries will fire and that carrier is going to be floating scrap. I’m not about to wreck a perfectly good firing solution and chance to end this battle on the word of a Prophane Pariah and some GalSec desk pilot.”

 

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