The Caledonian Gambit: A Novel

by Dan Moren

  His sudden deceleration meant he wasn’t the only one who was surprised. A shot ricocheted off the deck in front of him and he was suddenly yanked by the arm toward the starboard side of the room. Kovalic pulled him around a piece of heavy cooling machinery and they crouched behind it. A wide catwalk ran around the top of the room; Eamon had clearly positioned sharpshooters on it. Ducking behind the machinery meant the one on the opposite side couldn’t hit them, and they were close enough to the catwalk that it was a tough shot for the person above. For now, anyway.

  Kovalic was peering over their cover, looking for the gunman opposite them, but Eli’s attention was on the console fifteen feet from where they sat. Fifteen unprotected feet. Eli could make it at a sprint, but he’d be a sitting duck once he got there, and Kovalic didn’t have a weapon to cover him. They had to hope that Tapper and Page would be able to take out the sentries and give them some time to work. And even then, the size of Eamon’s crew meant there were still around a half dozen left. He glanced back over toward the door they’d come in and froze as he saw two men detach themselves from the bulkheads on each side and start in their direction.

  “Kovalic,” he snapped, elbowing him sharply and pointing to the two men.

  Kovalic looked back in their direction. “I guess now we find out if Rhys is on the up and up.”

  The lanky redheaded man advancing on them from the starboard side of the room—Eli pegged him as Lyngaas—had a nasty smirk on his face. He’d made it about two steps when there was a burst of shots and his chest went red. The smirk twisted into a grimace and he sank to the deck.

  Kovalic craned his neck over their cover and Eli followed his sightline to catch sight of Tapper on the opposite side of the catwalk, bracing one foot on top of a slumped body and aiming down the barrel of a carbine at the man he’d just felled.

  Kovalic nodded. “That’s one of the sharpshooters down.”

  A scream that under other circumstances would have been comical suddenly echoed from above them—and it seemed to be getting louder. Kovalic grabbed Eli and pulled him back even as there was a sickening thud and crackle from a few feet away, like somebody had just dropped a watermelon from a great height.

  “And that’s two.”

  The man who had been on the port side of the doorway was suddenly looking more concerned, having seen one of his comrades shot in the chest and another tossed bodily off a catwalk. He was pulling back to cover in a position opposite Kovalic and Brody when Gwen stepped into the doorway, carefully lined up her pistol, and shot him in the back. His back arched and he tripped mid-run, skidding to the floor and leaving a smear of blood behind him.

  Eli scanned the room, but there was no sign of anyone else watching. He had a clear run to the console.

  “I’m going,” he said, springing up and dashing for the bank of controls.

  Nobody shot him, or even at him, on the fifteen-foot trip, but as he reached the computer display and was putting his hands down on the keyboard he heard the click of a safety being released. He froze, his hands hovering just mere millimeters off the controls, his eyes focused on the big red letters on the display before him: “Authorization Unlock.”

  “Keep your hands off the console, Lije. I really, really don’t want to shoot you, but if you give me no other choice, I will.”

  His brother was standing against the bulkhead, about five feet down from the console, in a spot that had been obscured from Kovalic and Eli’s hiding space by another piece of machinery. He held a pistol leveled at Eli, which was probably the single most salient detail of the moment, and certainly the first that jumped to Eli’s mind.

  “Step away,” said Eamon, motioning with the gun.

  Eli looked from the gun up to his brother’s face, then shook his own head slowly. “I don’t think you will.”

  “I never really took you for a gambling man, Lije.”

  “Eamon, what do you think you’re going to accomplish? We’re about ten minutes away from taking a flying leap into Illyrica’s defensive perimeter, at which point this is all going to be academic because they’re going to turn us into very small pieces of space dust.”

  Eamon sighed theatrically. “You know what your problem is, little brother? No faith. This,” he gestured around him with his free hand, “is a top-secret experimental Illyrican military vessel. But I don’t suppose you ever got far enough up the ladder to know how the defense control systems handle that. It’s not as if they want to have just any traffic controller ogling it. The computer will identify the ship’s transponder as having free transit authorization, and the traffic controller will pass it right through—no questions asked.”

  “But surely the Illyricans will have revoked the transponder code since the ship’s been stolen.”

  Eamon laughed. “Right now, they’re still wondering why the hell their moon blew up. They haven’t even figured out the ship’s missing yet.”

  That meant they’d jumped straight from Caledonia to Illyrica with no time loss. Even wormhole travel usually ate up a couple hours of transit time. The jump technology on the ship was instantaneous. Holy shit. This does change everything.

  “You’re starting to get it,” said Eamon, watching his face. “It’s a whole new ballgame, Lije.”

  Exploration to new systems without having to send colony ships on one-way trips; near instantaneous communication between systems; and no more blockades—you could just jump around them. This must be what the first guy to build a bridge felt like. The entire galaxy had just gone non-linear.

  “They’ve been working on this tech for decades—decades, Lije.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowing. “How long were you stuck on that planet?”

  “Five years.” Five long years. And they had this? They left me to rot because of their failed invasion when they could have just popped over a ship and brought me home? The anger flared in his stomach like a bad case of indigestion. Never mind that he hadn’t even really wanted to go home at the time. He’d made the best of a bad situation, knowing there was no alternative. Except there was. “What are you going to do then, Mr. De Valera?”

  “I’m going to deliver justice.” He stepped to one of the consoles, keeping the gun loosely trained on Eli, and tapped something in with his free hand. A holographic display sprung to life, showing the same system outline that they’d seen on the bridge. Then the axis shifted and zoomed in, showing the course of the ship—it wasn’t making for the large green dot that represented Illyrica, but for a smaller green dot that hung just off and away from the planet. It wasn’t labeled, but it only took Eli a moment to figure out what it was.

  His eyes snapped to Eamon. “You’re going to blow their gate.” Tickling fingers teased their way up his spine, lifting each and every hair.

  Eamon lowered his gun slowly, and when he spoke again, there was an earnestness in his voice that Eli recognized from their childhood. “Let’s give them a taste of their own medicine, Lije. Let’s see how they like being stuck behind an impenetrable wall.”

  “Not to mention it’ll isolate Illyrica from the worlds it occupies,” broke in a third voice.

  Eamon shifted the gun hastily toward Kovalic, who’d risen from his hiding place and walked over to stand behind Eli.

  “Like Caledonia,” Kovalic finished. “And Earth.”

  “Their transit routes to Sevastapol and Archangelsk will remain undisrupted, for what it’s worth, but the worlds they forcibly occupied will rise up and free themselves. Cut off the head and the beast dies.”

  “You think, what, that the Illyrican military garrison on Caledonia will throw up their hands and let you guys go back to the way things were before they showed up? Not going to happen.”

  “Without orders from the homeworld and their precious emperor they’ll be no match for the will of the people. And without reinforcements we can fight them off.”

  Now it was Kovalic’s turn to laugh, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “If anything, they’ll push their
thumb down even harder on your people, Brody.”

  “Christ, you should be happy about this plan, Fielding. You’re from Earth, right? I can hear it in your voice. What wouldn’t you give to free your homeworld? Here I’d taken you for one of those selfless patriots, fighting to avenge the occupation of Earth.”

  Kovalic’s face set into a grim mask. “Not like this. All you’re doing is seeding chaos and turmoil. And for what: a temporary victory? If Sabaea has shown us anything, the Illyricans will just rebuild their gate. And they’re not the type to give up easy—they’ll be dispatching more invasion fleets the second they re-establish contact.”

  A mischievous grin played over Eamon’s face. “If they can.”

  Kovalic cocked his head to one side. “You know something.”

  Eamon shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

  “Illyrica’s not like Sabaea, Brody; it doesn’t have an agricultural industry to fall back on when its supply lines are cut off. Without support from Earth and Centauri, there will be massive food shortages. Innocent civilians are going to die, all because of your political agenda.”

  “That’s the Imperium’s problem. Maybe the nobility will be forced to share with the common people. Anyway, I don’t think your masters at the Commonwealth will bat an eye—I’m doing them a huge favor, shifting the balance of power. They might actually have a reasonable shot at winning this war.”

  Kovalic sighed and shook his head. “People always talk about winning the war. Honestly, there was a time when I could hardly think of anything else: had to win the war, had to drive the Illyricans out. But the older you get, the more you start thinking that you don’t care who wins—you just want it over with. And this isn’t going to end the war, Brody. If anything, it’s going to make it worse.”

  “And what the fuck do you know?”

  “I fought at Earthfall.”

  For a moment it seemed like complete stillness settled across the engine room, only broken by the incessant whirring of the strange engine. There wasn’t an ounce of bragging or pride in Kovalic’s statement; to Eli’s ears, it sounded more like it had been pried from the man’s mouth with tongs.

  Eamon, for once, didn’t have a quick retort ready. There weren’t a lot of Earthfall veterans—mainly because very few of the Earth soldiers who had fought in the campaign against the initial Illyrican invasion had survived. If you’d fought and lived, then either you had the devil’s own brand of luck on your side or you were quite the badass. In Kovalic’s case, Eli had begun to suspect it was probably a bit of both.

  “Righteous causes get you only so far, Brody,” said Kovalic, shaking his head. “The victory doesn’t always go to those who deserve it. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.” He turned to Eli. “Unlock the console.”

  “Don’t,” said Eamon, raising the gun to point at his brother. It wavered slightly.

  “Do it, Eli.” Kovalic’s gaze didn’t shift from Eli’s eyes. “He won’t shoot you.”

  Eamon’s brow creased. “He’s right,” he said finally. “I can’t shoot my own brother.” He swung the gun barrel to point toward Kovalic. “But don’t think I won’t shoot your new best friend, Lije. And I know you don’t want his death weighing on your conscience.”

  “Like what happened to your sister weighs on yours?” said Kovalic.

  The blind spot.

  Eamon’s hand tightened on the grip of his gun and he closed the distance between him and Kovalic in a stride. “Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch.” He was standing only about three feet away from Kovalic, and even though the gun was shaking in his hand there was no way he could miss.

  “That’s all this is, isn’t it?” Kovalic continued, gray eyes hard. “Guilt. You weren’t there to stop what happened to her, so you decided to take it out on an entire planet. De Valera—the old one, I mean—he knew it, too. That’s why he picked you, shaped you, turned you into a tool that would do what he couldn’t.”

  “Fuck you. I was born for this. I was even named for it, the old man said. This isn’t about me.” He closed the distance between them, jabbing the gun into Kovalic’s chest.

  The soldier winced when the muzzle hit his sternum, but he didn’t give any ground. At Kovalic’s sides, his fists clenched. A high-pitched whine had begun to build, like someone had overjuiced a capacitor. Eli looked back and forth between the two of them: his brother and the man he hardly knew. Everybody’s fighting for something. His eyes went to the console just a foot away from where he stood. He could save Kovalic or he could stop Eamon’s plan. But he couldn’t do both.

  “This,” said Eamon, “is for my whole fucking world.”

  “Then do it already,” growled Kovalic.

  Eamon’s finger convulsed on the trigger. Eli dove for the console. A blinding flash of blue light filled the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Whatever modifications Page had made to the cargo container’s repulsor coil had worked—if anything, a little too well. The fact that the jury-rigged apparatus strapped to Kovalic’s right arm hadn’t burned out was a good sign, but given the force produced by the device and the inescapable laws of physics the equal and opposite force had hit Kovalic with slightly less impact than a determined bulldozer.

  Kovalic had unclenched his fist, palm out, causing the overloaded repulsor to trigger and emit a flash of blinding blue-tinged light. The blowback shoved him about ten feet, where he hit the deck and slid for another few feet until his movement was halted abruptly by a bulkhead slamming into his back.

  There was a temptation to not get up at that point. To play dead or maybe even be dead. And he might have succumbed to that temptation had it not been for the growl in his head from a man he’d known a lifetime ago, who’d always smelled strangely of lavender.

  Get up, you lazy, no-good maggot. Marines don’t die that easy.

  With a grunt, Kovalic rolled over and pushed himself up, grabbing a nearby pipe for support.

  A hand took his elbow and he instinctively jerked away.

  “Just trying to help,” said a surprised voice, which turned out to be Rhys.

  “Sorry. Thanks.” He looked over toward where the brothers Brody had been standing. Relief flooded through him as he saw Eli standing at the authorization console, typing away. It hadn’t all been in vain. “Where’s Eamon?”

  “Whatever the hell you just did sent him flying across the room like he was on a bungee cord. I didn’t see him get up.”

  Kovalic rubbed at his neck. “I suppose we’d better go find out.” He cast a look upward and saw both Page and Tapper standing on the topmost catwalks, carbines pointed downward. Between them, they covered most of the engine room. Tapper gave him a thumbs up while Page favored him with a curt nod.

  “No sign of the rest of Eamon’s men,” Kovalic muttered. “Where the hell have they gotten to?”

  “Let’s hope that without his stellar leadership they’ll scatter like rabbits.”

  Kovalic snorted at that as he came up behind Brody. “How’s it going?”

  The younger man frowned. “I’m trying to unlock the authorization, but it’s going to take some time. It looks like Eamon just put it on autopilot and pointed it toward the gate. And I don’t care what he says about top-secret authorization, if the gate defenses see a ship barreling toward them, there’s a better than even chance that they’ll shoot first and ask questions never.”

  “How far are we from the defensive perimeter?”

  “About twenty-five thousand kilometers. Our speed’s fairly steady at around five thousand kilometers per hour.”

  “Five minutes.”

  “We can’t even make it to the bridge in five minutes.”

  “Then let’s hope your brother was right about them not shooting us down immediately. Let me see if I can get you some help.” He ducked out from under the catwalk and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Page, get down here, now!” The slim man withdrew and Kovalic went back to Brody. “Keep working.”

 
“And here I was just going to lean back and have a drink.”

  “We get out of this alive, drinks are on me.”

  “We get out of this alive, a whole lot more than a drink is on you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Kovalic made his way to Rhys, who was standing over Eamon. The elder Brody brother was unconscious on the deck; having taken the brunt of the repulsor blast, he’d hit a nearby conduit with considerably more force than Kovalic had hit the bulkhead. Rhys had produced a pair of restraints and was cuffing him to a pipe. She stood and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

  “Not bad for improvisation,” she said, glancing at Kovalic.

  “Let’s hold off on judging that until we’re out of Illyrican space.”

  Rhys shrugged. “That’s a bigger problem for you than it is for me. Under our agreement with the Illyricans, CalSec’s jurisdiction extends to hot pursuit. The method of our transit was, I’ll admit, somewhat unorthodox, but I think the Illyricans will be able to overlook it in exchange for apprehending a wanted criminal.”

  “And me and my team?”

  Her blue eyes widened, doe-like. “Why, I didn’t even know you were here.”

  Kovalic returned a smile and extended a hand. “In that case, I’ll just say ‘good collar,’ Agent Rhys.”

  Rhys shook his hand and they walked back to Brody, who had been joined by Page. The tall, slim man had taken over computer duties, his fingers tap-dancing over the keys.

  “Anything?” Kovalic asked.

  “There’s an override sub-routine,” answered Page, not lifting his eyes from the console. “But it’s going to take me at least another three minutes to reroute. Of course, it would be faster if you could just get the code from whoever put it in.”

  Rhys shook her head. “Eamon’s out cold. Short of pumping him full of stimulants—and let me say right now how bad of an idea that is—that’s where he’s staying.”

  “Well, in that case, I would appreciate uninterrupted quiet.”