Orion Fleet (Rebel Fleet Series Book 2)

by B. V. Larson

  We were exhilarated, and we were instantly overwhelmed with fatigue. All the tension over the preceding hours hit us, and we lounged in our chairs.

  Some shouted and celebrated. Others closed their eyes, prayed, or left the decks for their bunks.

  I stayed on station as Killer came toward us, and we revealed ourselves at last.

  “Would you please report to my chambers, Captain Blake?” Ursahn asked. “We have things to discuss.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I said.

  Ursahn provided transport in the form of a fighter, rather than having us dock again. I didn’t object. I boarded the tiny vessel with a crew of beings that had tentacles instead of lips, and rode in silence to Killer.

  When I arrived at her chambers, I sat on a stump-like seat she provided. These were comfortable only if you were a member of her species, but I didn’t complain.

  “I have questions, Blake,” she said when we were alone.

  “Ask away, sir.”

  “Why did you engage the enemy when they pursued us?”

  “Because if they destroyed your ship, we were lost as well.”

  She nodded gravely and made a note with her clawed hands in the air.

  “And later, when the enemy attempted to retreat—why did you not attack then?”

  “To do so would be to lose my ship. They were aware of me, and they were taking precautions. What’s more, they had two ships and three fighter squadrons nearby.”

  She made another note and looked at me thoughtfully. “Do you know why I came back to strike at them?”

  I shifted on my hard seat uncomfortably. I was beginning to get the idea she disapproved of my actions—but it didn’t seem fair that she should do so.

  “To save my ship—or possibly to secure glory for yourself.”

  She shook her head and snorted loudly through flared nostrils. “I was going to suggest to the admiralty they give you a commendation—that’s worth many points toward rank.”

  “And why wouldn’t you?”

  “Because, in each instance you acted only for self-preservation. There was no sense of sacrifice for the greater good. I would hesitate to call your actions completely honorable. They were bravely done, and you executed your plans well. But there is a certain distaste to them, all the same.”

  “Look, Ursahn,” I said, becoming irritated, “this is a war. A real war, against a dishonorable enemy. I offer you tactics that allow for victory. Isn’t it time for you to accept that my methods are superior?”

  She gave me a hard stare. “Consider this, human. If I had acted as you did, you and your crew would be dead by now. Either that, or lost in this miserable system forever.”

  She dismissed me then, and I exited her chambers, thinking hard. She had a strong argument. It wasn’t logic that had brought her back to fight and save my ship. She’d done it to save a comrade in trouble.

  For that very reason, I was still breathing now, and we’d won the day.

  =23=

  Returning to the hangar deck, I almost made it to the waiting transport that was supposed to take me back to Hammerhead—but not quite.

  A group of three officers wearing silver triangles for rank insignia greeted me as I stepped off the lift. A fourth officer, Commander Shaw himself, stood at a distance, observing.

  I knew right off what was up. I’d served in the Rebel Fleet long enough to see the obvious signs of an ambush.

  My first thought was to get back aboard the lift and escape up to the command deck again. Lower ranks weren’t allowed to fight up there—but these bastards had already seen to that not happening. I passed my hand near the controls, and the elevator didn’t budge. The doors didn’t even open.

  Turning back to my soon-to-be assailants, I noted they were of an uncommon breed. They were ape-like, all of them. Hairy, squat, with long limbs and low brows. They lifted their lips to show me their teeth in a chimp-like grin.

  “Welcome to our ship, Blake-creature,” said the nearest one. He had the shortest stature and widest shoulders.

  Possibly, a broad chest was more indicative of leadership than was height in their culture.

  “What’s up, Shorty?” I asked him, nonchalantly putting my hand on my disruptor’s grip.

  They had steel clubs in their hands and disruptors at their sides. I knew, of course, all our disruptors were harmless. While aboard ship, the lower crewmen had their weapons disabled. The brass generally allowed people to fight—but not with deadly weapons.

  They knew this too, but the way I reached for my weapon with easy competence made their toothy grins fade. They shuffled and milled around, looking worried and angry.

  “You can’t shoot Gref!” shouted the leader. “Your gun doesn’t work!”

  “No?” I asked, drawing my weapon smoothly and aiming it at his feet. “Let’s see if I can take off a toe. You have too many down there, anyway.”

  They were six-toed and six-fingered. From their behavior, I figured that might not be a coincidence.

  “You can’t do that!” insisted Gref.

  “How do you think I win battles?” I asked. “I’ll tell you how, Gref my boy: I cheat.”

  This caused them to move with even greater agitation. Gref turned to Shaw.

  “If he shoots me, he will be punished?”

  “Absolutely,” Shaw said.

  “Then I will beat him!”

  “Hold on,” I said, lifting my weapon and leveling it. “Your punishment will be greater than mine.”

  This was a poser for Gref. He glared, and shuffled, and worked the air with his long, hairy fingers like he was trying to cast a spell.

  “Shaw will punish you, not me!” he announced.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said, speaking slowly and clearly. “Think Gref: you’ll be dead. No points for you. That will be your punishment.”

  For some odd reason, this struck Gref as funny. He rumbled and hooted. His companions joined in. He made strange gestures toward me. I had no idea what he was thinking, and my attention stayed riveted on those three bright metal clubs.

  Then, without further words, they turned and shuffled away. One of them spun around at the last moment and hurled his weapon at me.

  Such speed and power! I was surprised, and I barely ducked my head out of the way. I took the blow in my shoulder, and it felt as if my rotator cuff was torn. At the very least, it would be stiff and sore.

  “Damned apes!” I complained as they retreated.

  Shaw advanced after they’d left. He looked stern. “Hand over your weapon, Blake.”

  I cast a confused glance at his outstretched hand.

  “My disruptor? Why?”

  “Because you must have tampered with it. Otherwise, it should still be on lockout and unable to fire aboard the ship at this time.”

  This threw me for a second, then I laughed. “No, no,” I said. “That was a bluff. My weapon doesn’t work, see?”

  Drawing it quickly, I shot him in the chest—or rather, I would have if it had been functional. I activated it several times with no result.

  After flinching, he snatched it from my hand and examined it.

  “This is a standard issue sidearm,” he said in surprise.

  “Of course.”

  “Then… why did you tell Gref that it wasn’t?”

  I rolled my eyes, but I knew that meant nothing to most Kher. “Because I was bluffing. I didn’t feel like getting my butt kicked by those idiots.”

  He glared at me sternly. He pulled out a computer scroll and made a note with his sym. “That will go down as a cheat. You’ve lost three points today—one for each honest man you deceived.”

  “Whatever,” I said. It was disrespectful, but I wasn’t in the mood for saluting him right now. He’d known about this ambush, and he’d said nothing to warn me. To my mind, he was the dick here, not me.

  “Primates,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  “Just a minute, Shaw,” I said as he moved to walk away.
“I’m confused about today’s action. Why were we fighting Imperial carriers?”

  “Because we found them in this system, and they assaulted our ship.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, “I’ve got that. But I thought the Imperials were sending some kind of robot ship. Some kind of big unmanned vessel called a Hunter?”

  He shrugged. “Not this time, apparently.”

  Thinking hard, I marched away onto the flight deck. It’s not that all the other Kher were dummies, but they were usually very focused on a single task. They were mostly predators, as that type of being tended to work its way to the top of any planetary food chain. When they saw an enemy, they fought it. But getting into the head of the enemy and predicting moves? That was monkey-business as far as they were concerned.

  Even though they were natural killers, deadly by reflex, most species I’d met up with lacked skills when it came to deception. Some of the primates too—Gref’s team as a case-in-point—seemed to lack them as well.

  The Imperials were different, however. They were more like humans than most of the Kher. They fought in an organized fashion, and they could be deceptive.

  My mind kept turning over the details of the battle we’d just fought. Why would the Imperials send carriers to this system, if they were using a Hunter so effectively elsewhere? The question kept bothering me as I crossed the flight deck.

  At last I found the fighter that was to take me back to Hammerhead, and I eyed the pilot suspiciously. His helmet barely fit, and his six long fingers wrapped around the stick with several inches of muscle, skin and bone to spare.

  He just happened to be of the same race Gref had been. I looked him over speculatively.

  “You know how to fly this thing?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Gref know that.”

  “Your name is Gref? I met another man named Gref just a few minutes ago.”

  “Yeah, sure. Him Gref too. We all Gref.”

  I nodded, and I reached for my harness to strap in. Gref watched closely—but not closely enough. My hand came up again with my sidearm in it.

  “Get out,” I said, aiming my disruptor at his belly.

  “Gref pilot you.”

  “Nope, not today. Get out Gref—now.”

  Slowly, he climbed out of his seat and left the vehicle. I locked it behind him, then carefully inspected the small ship’s interior to make sure no other “Grefs” were hiding anywhere. I didn’t find anyone, so I took off and flew back to Hammerhead.

  When I’d reached my own ship, I set the ship on autopilot and let Killer’s CAG take it home. This got me an ear-full from traffic control, but I didn’t care. I told them Gref had abandoned his post, and they seemed to buy that lie.

  When I stepped onto my own bridge again, I was smiling. Just the thought of someone from the CAG’s station complaining to the Grefs about their misconduct, and the resulting confusion, amused me.

  =24=

  The ship jumped twice more over the following week, until we reached an advanced forward base. I recalled when they’d built this space station, and a string of similar bases near the Orion Front.

  With all that had happened, I was surprised to see it was still here, still intact. I docked alongside Ursahn’s bigger ship and marched aboard without orders.

  As a captain of an independent vessel, I figured it was my right to do so. No one had explicitly told me I couldn’t.

  “Is this wise?” Dr. Abrams asked, walking in my shadow.

  I’d brought him along, of all people, because he had his fingertips on the most detailed data. I planned to meet with the station commander and try to get some answers out of the local brass.

  “Surprising moves are always wise when dealing with the Kher. Being predictable will only get your skull dented.”

  Abrams eyes were wide, and he kept looking behind us. I couldn’t blame him for that. He’d read my reports, and he knew there had been two incidents of violence already.

  “Honestly,” he said, “I thought your reports of Kher savagery were exaggerated.”

  “Exaggerated? Why would I do that?”

  He smirked. “History is replete with accounts from returning explorers that have been, shall we say, self-aggrandizing.”

  “So you figured I made it all up? All the arena combats and duels for honor?”

  “No, not entirely. I just assumed you’d painted yourself in the best possible light. After all, you weren’t known as a paragon of truth before you left Earth—I read that part of your file as well.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. That made sense. I’d been a beach-bum on Maui before the Kher had picked me up. I’d been something of a shady character, in fact. That my reports would later be taken with a grain of salt—well, I guess that could only be expected.

  “I see…” I said. “Well, in that case I’m sorry to inform you that the real world out here in space is just as strange and violent as my reports indicated.”

  “It’s quite disappointing. How can these people expect to defeat a technologically superior foe without unity of purpose?”

  “It’s like many things, I guess,” I said, “they operate on a principle of organized chaos.”

  He stared at me. “You’re suggesting this barbarism is intentional? That they’ve thought it all out and still adopted braining one another with sticks? …and it’s just part of how things run here—like, for example, the stock markets on Earth?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “But I think they’ve taken their natural cultural customs and codified them, provided guidelines and regulations.”

  Abrams gave a little shudder as we passed some particularly odd-looking examples of Kher genetic variation. “Those things look like walking eels!”

  “Yeah… Don’t stare. That could be interpreted as a challenge.”

  “But they’re staring at us!”

  “That’s even worse. They’re trying to start something.”

  Abrams put a shaky hand to his face, shielding his eyes. The two eels soon turned back to their conversation, and we passed them safely. They didn’t have their translators turned on, and their language sounded like someone was popping bubbles in their mouths.

  “How are you feeling right now, Doc?” I asked.

  “Faintly sick and highly alarmed.”

  “But you’re alert, aren’t you? More ready for anything that comes your way than you ever would be back on Earth? Right?”

  He lifted his fingers from his face, looking all around us. No one was trying to start anything at the moment. “You think that’s part of their grand plan, do you? To keep us on our toes?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Try living among them for a few months and give me your analysis then.”

  “I’ll do that—if I survive the experience.”

  We arrived at the station commander’s office then and stopped. There were guards—each large and burly. They looked at us without humor or much interest.

  I tapped my shoulder epaulets, which bore diamond-shaped emblems. Each of them sported only thin metal lines, indicating they were ensigns.

  “Let me pass,” I said.

  “The thing with you has no rank,” countered one of the hulking creatures.

  “We plan to get him one from your station commander. Now, let us pass.”

  The two swayed for a moment, mulling it over. Then they stood aside.

  Abrams hurried after me as I strode between them. “So unfriendly. They looked like something out of a prehistoric catalogue of rare beasts.”

  “Yeah… you’ll get used to that. There are literally thousands of variations. At some point in the distant past, the Imperial Kher decided to seed countless worlds.”

  “What changed their behavior?” Abrams asked as we reached a second pair of large doors and pushed them open as well.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if any of the Wild Kher could tell you. But now, the Imperials are only interested in us as training dummies for their fleets.”

  The
station commander had no secretary, but there was a Terrapinian staffer waiting to greet us. Once past him we met the station commander.

  He sat with his arms behind his head, leaning back in a large chair. He was a primate, and I recognized him. He was Admiral Fex.

  His feet were occupied even though his hands weren’t. They were tapping and sliding around on the desk in front of him, manipulating virtual controls.

  The desk’s surface was devoid of things like pen and tablets. Instead, it appeared to be a control mechanism. I could tell it was really a computer of sorts. The associated screen appeared to be the large wall opposite his desk, which was the one we’d just entered through. It surrounded us and glowed with imagery, although there was no projector in evidence.

  “You’re spoiling my view, Blake,” Fex said. “Worse, you weren’t instructed to come here.”

  Abrams and I looked around with wide eyes. The wall behind us, and the ceiling above, formed a perfect surface depicting a three dimensional image of floating stars and planets. They weren’t to scale, as the planets wouldn’t be visible at such a distance. Symbols noted important points, fleets were triangles of various colors—it was wondrous.

  “Such depth of color and three-dimensional perspective…” Abrams said. “This is a fantastic display, sir.”

  “Yes, it is—if you’re a primitive with no frame of reference.”

  Abrams’ look of awe faltered. He wasn’t accustomed to being sneered at as a primitive.

  “Admiral Fex,” I said, closing the door behind us, “we’ve got something of importance to discuss.”

  “You’re interrupting me, Lieutenant Commander. I’m trying to think strategically.”

  “Our thoughts may, in fact, aid you in your plotting.

  Fex put his feet on the floor and rolled forward into a sitting position. His hairy hands fell onto the desktop, which glowed in watery pools around them, waiting for sensible input.

  “Impudence and presumption,” he said. “Blake, I know you were helpful the last time the Imperials decided to play with our planets. But you should assume neither they nor I are anticipating a repeat performance.”