“What if the tribunal finds that we aren’t guilty of the charges you’ve leveled against us?”
“That isn’t going to happen. You will be found guilty, and you’ll have no option but to do what I tell you, or your race will be destroyed.”
* * *
Avander Pharmaceuticals, Chattanooga, Tennessee, Earth
Zeke watched through the window as the Horde’s intelligence officer left the parking area, his wizened eyes narrowed in concentration. From the adjacent room, through a hidden door, his grandson Zeb Avander came in. From the leader of a notorious gang to the elected Sheriff of Chattanooga, the younger Avander had proven up to the challenge. Retired from law enforcement a few years ago, the younger Avander now ran the day-to-day operations of Avander Intergalactic. At nearly 50 years old, he didn’t look a year over 30.
“Do you actually believe that bullshit you told him?” Zeb asked his grandfather, who chuckled.
“What’s more important is that he believes it.”
“You start a bio war with the aliens, the whole planet will lose.”
Zeke nodded and puffed on his cigar, blowing a huge cloud of smoke which the room’s hidden cleaners caught and pulled away. Despite years of dealing with his grandfather’s unpopular, and largely illegal habit, Zeb’s nose curled up in distaste. “I know that,” Zeke replied, “but I need room to maneuver. They’re right, a war is coming—not only is it coming, it’s already here—and I need to be off their grid in order to play that game.”
“Not even going to tell me what you have in mind?”
Zeke looked at him and winked. Zeb shook his head and walked out of the office. Once he was alone, Zeke pulled up the images of the alien-bioengineered viruses that had been infiltrated on a miracle laser treatment sold to an eager but gullible merc in the Horde’s logistics department. Zeke had discovered it in time to immunize his own people, but not in time to have mass treatments ready for the mercenary forces. Luckily, the Horde had somehow gotten ahead of the curve and had a treatment available in time. There were a lot of people who’d still gotten sick, but most were going to make it.
“You want to play that kind of game on my field?” he asked his display. “I’ll be ready for you, and I might even have a few surprises of my own.” Using his top-level access, he logged into the secret of his success—an alien-made manufactory just outside of Chattanooga. A company had bought it decades ago with the intention of using it to make aerocars. They hadn’t realized it was a pharmaceutical manufactory; Zeke had. Using the genetic engineering techniques he’d learned during his imprisonment, coupled with his own knowledge, he’d gotten control of the manufactory and set it to producing his life-extending treatments. They’d gotten quite rich from those.
Zeke punched in data and began writing a production routine. It’d be small and would go unnoticed by the teams operating the manufactory; he was sure of that. He was also sure he could make a difference, only that it wouldn’t be quite what Good was expecting. Zeke had learned during his years of enslavement to play a long game, and he intended to do just that.
* * * * *
Chapter Eight
Winged Hussars Prime Base, New Warsaw System
Jim floated forward in the shuttle to let his eyes take in the system the Winged Hussars had dubbed Home. A red giant star cast an eerie glow on the shuttle pilot’s face and made him think of an old-fashioned photographic dark room. Captain Su said she thought it must have flared in a failed super nova untold eons ago, creating the massive debris cloud that made it impossible to get a navigational fix from inside the system. Literally millions of asteroids orbited the star, remnants of worlds that once orbited it before the cataclysm claimed them.
One planet had survived. It was green with massive swirling cloud banks, hints of low mountains, and dark seas. It was frighteningly close to the ancient star, but it would have to be to get enough energy from that stellar body to have liquid water. Jim had to see it for himself, because it was, in stellar terms, utterly impossible. What kind of engineering did it take to save this planet from the event that had claimed every other planet in the system, he silently wondered, and what’s happened to that level of technology since?
“Course received, Commander,” the pilot said.
“Proceed,” Jim ordered and wedged himself against the back of the padded cockpit as the pilot applied thrust. He and his XO, Hargrave, were the sole passengers on this trip. Colonel Shirazi had refused the offer of a ride; his own shuttle was a few miles away on a parallel course. Jim could see dozens of tiny drone fighters surrounding the two shuttles as they accelerated toward the planet. It would seem Colonel Cromwell was taking no chances with her unexpected visitors.
A million asteroids glittered in the near distance as they left Bucephalus behind. Jim could see some were starships in high parking orbits around the planet as they headed toward a structure in a lower orbit. As they approached, it resolved itself into a structure of truly immense proportions. A triple ring station, similar to Karma station, only many times bigger. Many, many times bigger.
“Hargrave!” he called.
“Yeah,” the older man replied from the passenger cabin.
“You gotta see this space station.”
“I’ve seen a few hundred, kid. You seen one, you’ve seen them all.”
“Not like this, you haven’t.” There was a grunt followed by the sound of restraints being released, and a few seconds later Hargrave floated through the cockpit door. There wasn’t room for another with the pilot and Jim’s large frame, but the CO managed to squeeze over far enough for Hargrave to get a good look.
“Yeah, that’s a big one, all right.”
“Have you seen bigger?”
“One,” he admitted. Jim glanced over his shoulder at him. Hargrave had that distant look on his battle-lined face, the one he got when he was looking back to decades past. “It was an abandoned station near the core worlds. They think it was one of the first government’s big bases, or maybe one of the Dusman or Kahraman home worlds. Who the fuck knows, because the planet was wrecked. I don’t think a Goka could live there now. Anyway, there was this station orbiting in the LaGrange point between the world and its big-ass moon. This station was just immense. I mean, you could see its shadow on the planet’s charred surface as it orbited between it and the sun.” Jim gave a long, low whistle.
“Yeah,” Hargrave continued, “big. But the difference was, that station was shot to shit. Looked almost as bad as the world it orbited. I don’t know what kept it together, to tell you the truth. I know a lot of races had picked the bones clean, so it was nothing more than a ruin. Still, there it was.” Hargrave pointed at the station. “That’s a close second, though. Pretty neat seeing it in one piece.”
“There’s other things in higher orbit,” the pilot said, gesturing at the Tri-V projection on his navigational system. There were 10 or 12 large, dispersed structures visible. They lacked the hard returns of a spaceship yet were more resolved than debris.
“Can you zoom in on any of them?” Jim asked.
“Yes, sir,” the man said and used his pinplants to manipulate the Tri-V. The image exploded and zoomed in with dizzying speed.
“Never get used to you kids and your brain plugs,” Hargrave muttered. After the latest increases in Cartwright’s rosters, and a positive profit margin, Jim had paid for whoever wanted pinplants. A surprising number took him up on the offer, and most of the new hires had them as well. Less than 10% of the Cavaliers remained un-pinned.
“What’s that?” Jim asked. It looked like a floating cage of some kind.
“That,” the pilot said, “is a space dock. They’re building starships.”
“Holy shit,” Jim said. “Are all those returns space docks?” Using his pinplants again, the man zipped through all the sensor returns the same way he’d done the first. Each resolved into a little gossamer miniature space dock. Some were bigger or shaped differently, but all were obviously the same th
ing.
“Yes, all docks,” he confirmed. “I can find nine on this side of the planet.”
“They’re building a fleet,” Hargrave said.
“Another fleet,” Jim corrected. The Winged Hussars already had at least three, if rumors were correct.
“Where are they getting the resources and equipment?” the pilot wondered.
“Look around you,” Jim said. “If those asteroids are shattered planets, this system is the richest source of readily available resources in the galaxy.”
“And it all belongs to Alexis Cromwell,” Hargrave said with a chuckle. “Why does she even bother going outside and fighting?”
“Why indeed,” Jim echoed his XO.
* * *
As the shuttle slowed to approach the station, Jim watched through the rear cameras. It grew more massive every second. Miles across was his guess, several miles. The triple rings spun at an almost stately pace. How many thousands could live in that station? Tens of thousands? A hundred thousand?
As the shuttle fell into the shadow of the station, Jim was fairly certain at least part of the station wasn’t in as good a shape as the rest. Damage, or just neglect? he wondered.
“We’ve been given landing authority,” the pilot announced. Jim looked over his shoulder as the shuttle came to a stop a few hundred yards from a yawning bay in the center of the station. This was the hub that wasn’t rotating. He tried to imagine the mechanisms that allowed so many millions of tons to spin smoothly around this central section.
“Go ahead,” he said, and the pilot began the landing sequence. As they slipped inside, Jim could see someone had painted above the bay “Welcome to Prime Base.”
The pressure equal light came on, and the pilot released the door lock, allowing it to swing in and away. Outside, the bay buzzed with activity as personnel moved in to secure the shuttles to the deck. Jim was surprised they were mostly aliens. He recognized a dozen species, while several were unknown to him. He’d known the Hussars had a lot of aliens in their numbers; he just hadn’t been prepared for this many.
A series of poles rose from the floor, all connected by a light tether that led toward a now open exit from the bay. Obviously, this was a concession to visitors who might not be as at home in zero gravity as the workers were.
“Rolled out the red rope for us,” Hargrave said, and they both chuckled. A single long, sleek alien figure floated toward the shuttle, not bothering with the tether. Jim saw it was a Veetanho.
“Colonel Cartwright?” the alien asked as it arrested itself against the side of the shuttle.
“Yes,” Jim said, and the alien saluted.
“Lieutenant Commander Paka, Colonel Cromwell’s XO and second-in-command of Pegasus.” Jim smiled and returned the salute.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you after our meeting on Karma,” Jim said.
“Not a problem,” she answered. “Many species have difficulties differentiating traits of other species. I’ve spent so long among Humans, I’m better than most.”
“This is Lieutenant Colonel Hargrave, my XO.” The two exchanged casual salutes.
She gestured to the rope. “If you’ll follow the tether to the lock, I’ll meet you there after I collect Colonel Shirazi.”
Jim nodded and Paka pushed away, presumably toward the other shuttle, so he and Hargrave both grabbed the tether and pulled themselves toward the exit door. Both were well versed in zero gravity movement and had no difficulty. Jim thought he’d gotten pretty good at null gravity operations until he watched some of the bay crew working.
A pair of mollusk-like Bakulu flew by using puffs of air they expelled to maneuver like little space ships. He was pretty certain the shells they used weren’t natural but manufactured for working in that environment. One of them glanced at Jim with one of its three eyestalks as it flew past. Elsewhere, a trio of elSha were wrangling a fuel hose toward Jim’s shuttle. It was fairly rigid and resisted their efforts, yet they acted as if it were the easiest thing imaginable.
Just before they reached the door, Jim noticed a windowed blister overlooking the bay. It was a command center, with several individuals inside. Two of them were Human; they were the first Humans he’d seen since arriving in New Warsaw.
They waited in the lock for a minute until they saw Nigel Shirazi and his second in command emerge from their shuttle and come down their own tether. Jim hadn’t seen the man with Nigel before, but unless he missed his guess the man had all the hallmarks of a sergeant. Jim nodded at Nigel as the man approached and got a glare for his efforts.
“If you think I’ve forgotten what you did on Earth,” he said with a snarl, “you’re greatly mistaken.”
“Do you mean saving all the other merc companies, or you specifically?”
Nigel’s breath sucked in and his eyes got slightly wider as he puffed up. It took quite a bit of self-control for Jim not to laugh. The other merc with Nigel, who Jim saw was wearing First Sergeant’s stripes, put a restraining hand on his commander’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear.
“Fine,” Nigel said. “I will put this aside for now.”
“Are we ready to meet the commander?” Paka asked.
“Yes,” Nigel said, “then she can explain why she sent an alien underling to meet me.” Jim coughed. “What?”
“You don’t know who this is?” Jim asked as the interior door opened onto a corridor.
“He didn’t give me time,” the Veetanho said. Nigel looked suspicious.
“This,” Jim said, “is Paka, the second-in-command of the Winged Hussars.”
Nigel’s jaw dropped. “An alien?”
“He’s observant too,” Paka said. This time Jim did laugh, but so did Hargrave and the sergeant.
“Why did the commander of one of the Horsemen choose an alien as her XO?” Nigel asked as they moved into a lift. The doors closed, and it moved up, settling them to the floor.
“Because I’m really good at the job,” Paka said as she eyed Nigel, “and I’ve been doing it long enough to have met your father.” Nigel looked genuinely impressed for the first time. “We fought together on several occasions. We’re very familiar with your prejudice against non-Humans. Familiar enough to see that you have some justification for these feelings. Your father could move past that prejudice. Can you?”
Jim grinned again. He liked this Veetanho, a lot. He could see why she was Alexis’ right hand…woman. Like all the Veetanho he’d met, she was shrewd and observant. They were also a very long-lived race. Hargrave had said Peepo was more than a century old. He still had difficulty believing Peepo was in command of the fleet that took Earth. Why had she done it? The lift reached a full gravity, or close enough that Jim couldn’t tell the difference, and they exited. A short way later, Paka gestured.
“Here we are,” Paka said as she stopped at a door guarded by a pair of Hussars marines wearing Mk 8 CASPers and sporting impressive-looking laser carbines of a design he’d never seen before. The closest to him had sergeant’s stripes painted on its shoulder armor and the name “Sgt. Johansson” on the chest. He couldn’t see the further soldier’s name.
As Paka came abreast, both saluted her, and she returned it, then touched the door controls. “Command Staff Meeting Room #1” was printed on the door as it slid aside. Inside was a conference table large enough for a dozen Human-sized beings. The familiar form of Alexis Cromwell sat at the head of the table. A MinSha with a slung laser rifle stood just behind the commander; the Winged Hussars’ logo was etched into her torso chitin, and she had a lieutenant’s bar on her arm.
“Colonel Cartwright, Colonel Shirazi,” Alexis said and gestured to the table, “welcome.”
“Thank you,” Jim said with a bow of his head.
“Lt. Colonel Hargrave,” Alexis said with emphasis on his rank and a twinkle in her eyes, “good to see you again.”
“Ma’am,” he replied. Colonel Shirazi nodded slowly. The look on his face said he was slightly taken aback, though J
im couldn’t say why. He kept looking from her to the MinSha.
“This is Lieutenant T’jto, commander of the marine contingent aboard Pegasus.”
“So it’s true,” Shirazi said.
“What’s that?” Alexis asked.
“You love aliens.”
She made a noise, somewhere between grunt and snort. “Do you know what I love, Colonel?” He just stared. “I love good soldiers, and T’jto is the best.”
Nigel seemed unconvinced but changed the subject. “This is my First Sergeant, Thomas Mason.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Colonel Cromwell,” Mason said with a salute.
“First Sergeant,” Alexis said and returned the salute. “Now that we’ve gotten the formalities out of the way, I’d like you to tell me how in entropy you got here, and exactly what happened in the Sol System.”
Jim reached into his pocket and drew out the little memory module Drizz had given him. He sat it on the conference table and, with a shove, sent it sliding across the table. Alexis snatched it up and eyed the module, rolling it over and giving the logo a good look. Her eyes unfocused for a moment, and the door opened. An elSha walked in and she handed it to the alien, who left without comment.
“Assuming that’s legitimate,” she said, “who gave it to you?”
“Your representative on Earth,” Jim explained, “Drizz. Sansar Enkh convinced him our only logical course of action in the face of invasion was to evacuate. The majority of the mercs who got off went to Karma, while we came here.”
“This contains the data we gathered on the enemy fleet on our way out of the system,” Nigel said, sliding his own chip across the table. Jim nodded; his late arrival made more sense now. He’d been gathering data on the enemy fleet.
Alexis picked up the item, a standard computer chip, and slipped it into a slot on the conference table. Instantly the table produced an extremely high-quality Tri-V image showing the area around Earth.
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