by Lee Watts
Balin told the medics to see to the injured then quickly made his way to the bridge.
"Commodore Chandler, what's out there?" Balin asked.
"Two Ramillie cruisers coming in from the far side of Theera," the commodore answered. "Would you care to take command, Admiral?"
"No, Tobias. This is your ship and crew. I'll-"
"Sirs," interrupted the communications operator, "we're receiving a hail from the Hegemony Station. It's Field Marshal Tulin."
"Commodore, you get us out of here," Balin instructed. "I'll talk to Tulin."
Balin crossed to a communication's console and opened the frequency to the Hegemony Station. Tulin's angular features were even more pronounced by the enraged scowl on his face.
"Balin! I should have known. You're the one who ordered the diagnostic on the planetary security net aren't you?"
The Admiral smiled but knew the automated check would soon finish and the net's weapons would then return to operational status.
"What do you think you're doing?" Tulin accused.
"What I should have done a long time ago - taking a stand."
"This is treason!"
"No, handing the Realm over to the Ramillie is treason. Violating the Charter is treason! Turning your back on the principles the Realm was founded on is treason! But there's a remnant of those who are loyal, and we're taking a stand!"
"This is the end of you Balin, and the end of The Remnant too."
"No, Tulin. It's only the beginning."
"Helm," ordered Commodore Chandler, "We need to get out of here as quick as possible, give me best speed and calculate a jump out of here."
"Where to?"
"I don't care, just make it fast."
Zooming around Theera, the two Ramillie cruisers at last had a clear line of sight and sent powerful beams at the escaping Dauntless, but its shields held.
"Return fire," ordered the commodore.
Bolts of blue laserfire leaped at the cruisers.
"Shields down to seventy-two percent!"
"Bring us about," instructed Commodore Chandler. "Heading one-five-zero mark two-two-three!"
The mighty warship veered to the new heading, which placed it and the two cruisers in a straight line. With the lead Ramillie ship now blocking the other's path to the Dauntless, the rear ship was forced to cease fire until it could reposition. The lead cruiser continued its assault.
"Commodore, they're going for the engines."
"Weapons," Upton ordered in response, "give me a concentrated missile spread on that cruiser before it cripples us."
"Aye, Sir. Target locked."
"Fire!"
In rapid succession, eight missiles flared to life and with lightning speed, crossed the distance to the Ramillie ship. Point defense lasers picked off the first three projectiles. The remaining five caused critical damage to the craft, which caused its guns to fall silent.
"Fire," Chandler repeated.
Another volley of missiles slammed into the cruiser, which then blew apart in surging flames of orange and red. Chunks of the shattered craft slammed against the remaining cruiser's shield. The surviving cruiser accelerated and renewed its attack on the Dauntless. A growl from the engines, and rumble of the deck, alerted the Dauntless' crew to a new problem.
"Report," ordered the commodore.
"Sir, the Station activated an intense gravity field. Propulsion's down thirty-five percent. No way we'll be able to activate the lightdrive with that on."
"Blast! Redirect fire. Have the main cannon target the station. Let's see if we can knock that field off-line."
A steady beam of azure energy drilled at the shields of the Ramillie outpost. Ripples, like waves in a pool, washed out from the point of the impact, but the station's shields held.
"Maintain fire. Bring the secondary cannons to bear."
Two more beams from the massive cannons of the Dauntless hammered at the defensive screens. After several seconds of a sustained assault, the Commodore asked for a report.
"Sensors show their shields remain at full power."
"What? There must be at least a minimal drop."
"Negative. Readings indicate they're still at full power."
Chandler and Balin looked at each other in dismay. Neither man had even heard of a shield generator that could completely withstand such an attack.
"Commodore, main cannons reaching critical over-heat."
"Cease fire."
As the Dauntless halted its attack, an enormous panel slid open on the station as a cannon slid out, and blazing energy bolts burst from the station slamming into the Realm ship. Lights extinguished throughout the Dauntless, and crew members were knocked from their feet as the devastating strikes hit. After a few long seconds, the emergency generators activated and light was restored. As the bridge filled with smoke, and sparks shot from displays, Balin grabbed a console and pulled himself up. His eyes stung from the haze, and he coughed trying to clear his lungs. Looking across the bridge, he saw the Commodore face down on the floor beside the command chair. Hurrying to him, Blain knelt down to turn the body over.
"Tobias? Tobia-" he called out but stopped upon noticing the lifeless eyes of his comrade. Balin knew there was nothing he could do for his friend, and if he didn't think of something quick, everyone would end up the same way. Pushing sorrow aside, Balin rose and called for a damage report.
"Shields gone, main weapons off-line, life support is fluctuating."
"Do we have lightdrive?"
"Negative, Admiral."
"Make those engines priority one."
"What about life support?"
"If we don't get out of here quick, that won't make a difference."
Closing in on the wounded Realm ship, the Ramillie cruiser came in for the kill while spraying scorching beams across the Dauntless.
"Helmsman," called out the Admiral, "bring us to the far side of Enty, but stay out of range of that security net. The planet will block the gravity field, and there should be at least a narrow corridor where we can make the jump to lightdrive."
"Aye, Sir. Recalculating for lightdrive jump from that vector."
"Admiral, the station is recharging its cannon. They're preparing to fire."
Balin knew the ship wouldn't survive another hit from that devastating weapon. He ordered an electro-magnetic pulse be sent toward the nearby spheres of the planet's security net. Keeping the adjacent security satellites off-line, he ordered the ship to enter the atmosphere.
"Sir, battlecarriers aren't designed for atmospheric flight," said the concerned helmsman.
"I know that; I helped design them. Maintain course and keep those EMPs on the spheres!"
Gambling that the station wouldn't fire directly at Enty, the admiral prayed he was correct. As the ship bucked from the winds, the exterior hull began to glow because of the chaffing against the atmosphere.
"Admiral," the helmsman shouted over the deafening noise, "lightdrive engines back online!"
"Standby to jump!"
Overheated, armor plates flew off the Dauntless as it fought its way through Enty's upper atmosphere.
"Admiral, hull temperature at critical!"
"Are we clear of the station yet?"
"Ten more seconds!"
"Maintain course!"
The Dauntless, now a brightly burning ball of orange, streaked across the Enty sky while a thick trail of dark smoke poured from the incinerating craft. Due to the intense vibrations, crewmembers were forced to tightly grip their stations to avoid being thrown to the deck.
"Three seconds!"
Every emergency alarm on the ship blared warnings, and each indicator light flashed red.
"WE'RE CLEAR," shouted the helmsman.
"BRING US UP!"
"AYE, SIR!"
Struggling for every bit of progress, the warship slowly climbed its way back into space. Free of the planet's pull and atmosphere, the ship steadied, and hull temperature dropped.
"R
eady to jump, Admiral."
"Jump!"
With a burst of light, the battlecarrier quickly accelerated while transitioning to lightspeed and safety.
CHAPTER 29
"… Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest." – Joshua 1:9
With an intimate knowledge of Realm space, Balin kept the Dauntless from capture. After weeks of evasion, his ship entered orbit of the gas giant planet in the Oosay system. Asteroids, motionless except for their steady orbit, formed a ring about the lifeless world of gases. On the fringe of what was once Realm controlled space, the planet's asteroid belt served as a mining prison. Rich in the ore called tizanite, the asteroids of Oosay's shattered moon were an immensely valuable resource. The rocks, which varied greatly in size, formed a nearly twenty-kilometer wide ring around the planet. Some stones were no larger than a person while others were greater than a kilometer in diameter.
Since becoming part of the Hegemony, many Realm political prisoners were sentenced to Oosay. For convenience, the larger mined-out rocks were transformed into floating gulags. Balin reasoned the prison would be the last place Hegemony forces would look to find those they sought to imprison.
Because of communiqués Balin sent before defecting to the Remnant, personnel loyal to the Hegemony had all recently received transfer orders away from Oosay. Now, Balin set up command in the headquarters complex, which jutted from deeply carved tunnels of one of the larger asteroids. Working on a plan of how to sustain the people, he and a lean, gray-haired man by the name Colonel Veltri, poured over the records of the asteroid prison's inmates.
"Here's a possibility," Veltri suggested and began reading that inmate's extensive list of offenses, "Smuggling, larceny, racketeering, piracy, evading arrest…"
"Sounds like a good candidate," Balin replied. "Send someone to fetch him out of his cell and bring him here."
A few minutes later a guard entered the room.
"Sir, I have the prisoner you ask to see."
"Very good; show him in."
"The guard waved his hand, signaling the prisoner to enter. Balin rose to greet his guest.
"Admiral, may I present Captain-"
Recognizing the man, Balin finished the sentence with a grimace.
"Sosimo LaRouche."
"The one and only," Sosimo answered with a broad smile. "I mean that too. Those nasty rumors about me being cloned are probably completely false."
"Things just keep getting better and better," Balin grumbled.
Sosimo plopped down in a chair in front of the Admiral's desk. Leaning his seat back on its hind legs, the pirate placed his soiled boots on the desk and crossed them. He knew Balin wanted something from him, and it pleased Sosimo to no end the man responsible for his incarceration was now asking for help. He was going to draw this out and had no intentions of making it easy for his old comrade. Colonel Veltri remained standing, hands neatly folded behind his back.
"So, it's Admiral now," chirped the unkempt man. "Things must be going well for you."
Sosimo paused and wrinkled his nose while looking about the room.
"On second thought, they couldn't be that great if you've ended up here." Growing delight filled his voice as he continued. "In fact, they must be downright rotten if you're talking to me!" Exceptionally pleased with the situation, he burst out laughing. After a moment Sosimo regained his composure then continued. "So, My Good Admiral, what can I do for you?"
Balin took his seat and glowered at the man. He wasn't sure if LaRouche was insane or… he thought for a moment and couldn't come up with another option. The only question Balin had to figure out was what kind of insanity. He had known LaRouche a long time, but life had taken them down very different paths. He wasn't sure if his old friend was still the man he once knew.
"It seems we require your, shall we say, special talents." Sosimo smiled but said nothing. "Alright, I'll cut right to it. I don't know how much you've heard during your stay, but things have changed a great deal lately."
"So I gather. Seems there's been a regime change, and you look to be on the outs."
"What else have you heard?"
"Oh… things. We've been getting a lot of new types in the prison lately. Not the usual thugs but instead political prisoners and such. They tend to stick people out here and forget about them. For example, you may think I'm lying, but I was supposed to be paroled six months ago."
"You're right."
"I am?"
"Yes, I do think you're lying. But you're right about something else. People do seem to disappear out here, and that's what I'm counting on. We need to disappear, and this seems the place to do it. We're going to make these hunks of rock a safe haven. Some place we can organize from."
"Organize what, a revolution?"
Balin let out a sigh of disappointment while leaning back in his seat.
"No, nothing like that. We haven't the manpower or the resources to launch a campaign of anything more than annoyance. But I intend to be annoying - an uncomfortable reminder of the truth. With the fleet destroyed, there's not a lot I can do with one ship, even if it is a battlecarrier. Besides, the Ramillie are entrenched throughout the Realm. Even if we could drive them off, then what? There's no one to put on the throne. I'm in charge here, but I don't have a drop of royal blood in me. I don't want the throne anyway. No, the best we can do is to keep our people hidden, wave the banner once in a while and maybe one day organize a wider resistance."
"So, what do you want me for?"
Balin sighed. He hated going to the outlaw for assistance but knew he must to make his plan work.
"I've got a lot of people out here, and likely more on the way. We need resources: food, fuel, medicines and such. We do have one thing going for us - tizanite. We can keep the normal shipments coming out so we won't raise suspicions and mine some extra to pay for the things we need. Problem is, we can't sell or trade it. It's not like we can go to the refineries and set up a deal; it would expose our operation, and finding the black marketers isn't exactly easy."
"So, you want me to make some introductions?"
"There's more," Balin explained. "I can't use my ships to make the trades; they'd identify us right away. So, I need you to take the ore and trade it for cash and supplies. Do it, and you're out of the mines for good."
Sosimo thought for a moment.
"Let me see, I can go back in my cell and rot for the rest of my life mining tizanite, or I can get back into space and help you fence some rocks. It's a tuffy, but I think I'll take the latter."
"Good choice, but remember this, if you so much as think about betraying us, I'll personally make it my life's work to see to it you're tracked down, spaced, revived and re-spaced a dozen times."
"You're worried about trusting me, how do I know I should trust you? You're like me now, Admiral, 'a man without a country, without allegiance, a rogue, a renegade.' Why should I trust you?"
Balin's own words, now used against him, stung like a slap in the face.
"No, Sosimo, we're not alike. The Realm turned its back on you as it has me, but the difference between us is I'm not turning my back on the Realm. The wrong man is on the throne, but they're still my people, our people, and the remnant who are loyal need someone to look after them. We're going to make this work, with or without you. I'd rather have your help. Do we have a deal or not?"
"You'd have to release my crew."
"Done."
"And then there's the little matter of my ship."
"Colonel Veltri, do we have a location on for the Fortune?"
Veltri ran a check with the data banks.
"Roger that. It's floating in the scrap yard of Galamond II."
"SCRAP YARD," Sosimo blared. "That's insulting! The Fortune's one of the finest ships in this part of the galaxy."
Unimpressed, the Admiral answered, "I'm sure she is. I'm prepared to coordinate an operation to retrieve the shi
p but-"
"My ship," Sosimo cut him off. "Not the ship, not our ship, my ship. Let's get that straight from the beginning. I'm not joining your little Remnant here. This is a business deal. I hock your rocks, you let me and my crew go. The Fortune is mine. It's not part of your rag-tag fugitive fleet on some quest; it's mine."
"You needn't worry. I have no desire to take your ship."
Surprised, yet pleased at Balin's willingness to relinquish such a prize, Sosimo sat back.
"Good, well I'm glad that's settled. So, if you'll be so good as to release my crew, we'll be off."
Hearing that, Balin almost laughed - almost.
"Do you really think I'm not going let you waltz out of here unescorted? I don't trust you any farther than I can throw you, LaRouche. I'll be assigning escorts to make sure there aren't any… problems."
Not really expecting the Admiral to be so naïve as to let him go unattended, the pirate relented.
"Alright, I can use some extra hands. But on my ship, I still call the shots."
"Agreed. Collect your crew then we'll discuss how to retrieve your ship. I guess it's a fortunate coincidence you were imprisoned here."
"I don't think so," Sosimo countered. "As I often say, Admiral, I don't believe in coincidences. The universe is too big for random occurrences. No, there are no coincidences, only carefully laid plans that most people are oblivious to."
Finished with the conversation, Balin picked up a datapad in front of him. He stopped and looked up at Sosimo's boots still on the edge of his desk. The pirate smiled then removed the offending footwear. He rose and began out of the room, but snapping his fingers, stopped and turned back.
"Oh, My Dear Admiral, one more thing.
"What now?"
"It's like this see, I'll set up this exchange for you, but afterward I'll need some time to take care of a… personal matter. I made someone a promise, and I have to keep it."
"What sort of a personal matter?"
"If I told you what it was, then you would know what it is, and it's for me to know, not you. If it was you and not me then you'd have a personal matter and I wouldn't, but I do. So, I'm sure you understand."
"I don't understand half of what you say! But you set up the exchanges for us, and you'll have time for your personal matter."