Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight

by Gibbs, Daniel

  "I need one of your people on Harron," Li said, "for an op with gamma priority."

  Ruslov nodded. As a captain, he only had ultraviolet clearance, so he knew nothing about Hartford's plan. Li himself, despite his rank, was only X-ray clearance, but had a need-to-know for the good of the operation. "I can give you a list. Most are just informants and sympathizers in the major cities."

  "I need someone who can get their hands bloody and keep a straight face," Li said. "Anyone there that can do that?"

  Ruslov's expression didn't change. "Yes."

  "Then send me their information." Li smiled pleasantly. "I have important work for them."

  "Right away." Ruslov's image disappeared. Several moments later, a personnel file appeared on Li's screen. His systems finished decrypting it and displayed the information within.

  Li grinned at the information.

  * * *

  Hartford listened quietly to Li's report. After it was over, he appraised the intelligence officer coldly. "So you have failed yet again?"

  "Our intelligence on the Shadow Wolf and her crew was incomplete," Li said. "Had I known they were so well-armed—"

  "You should’ve anticipated it," Hartford said, interrupting Li's excuse. "You should not have underestimated them. Your contempt for them cost us this chance to claim Gaon."

  The look on Li's face told Hartford that he was right about that. He was allowing his contempt for people like this Shadow Wolf crew to color his judgment. "They are unusually well-armed for a ship of that type."

  "That means their captain is shrewd. He understands the dangers he faces and prepares for potentialities, not assumptions," Hartford said, not hiding his contempt for Li's behavior and related failure. "A shame you did not match his diligence."

  Li visibly bristled at the insult. Hartford suspected he was more offended by being compared so unfavorably to an "individualist" trading captain than he was by the reminder of failure. But he cared little for Li's feelings. His focus was on the threat to his operation. "Where is she?"

  "Trinidad Station."

  "I see. I will have ships ready to intercept them when they leave Trinidad."

  Li's eyes narrowed. "You could jeopardize everything. If the local worlds find out we have ships in the region—"

  "I will leave it to your experienced Ambassador Salinas to explain, along with her colleagues." Hartford grinned. "After all, few of those worlds care for Trinidad Station as it is. Hartford out."

  Upon pressing the key to cut the channel, he looked up to the seemingly neutral expression on Commander Aristide's face. "You disapprove?" he asked, familiar with his liaison's expressions.

  "I am concerned," she said. "Your desire to capture Gaon, while understandable from a social point of view, given her treason, does come across as…" For a moment, she became flustered. "My apologies, Admiral, but the thought is unbecoming."

  Hartford put his hands together. "Allow me to hear it regardless, Commander."

  "This seems to be a… vendetta, sir. An individualist vendetta." She spoke the word "individualist" with all of the vile that the term deserved, given what it meant to them.

  "Ah." Hartford nodded. "I can understand that. Understand my desire for Gaon's punishment is a social one, Commander. She caused a terrible defeat and cost many thousands of our finest their lives and freedom. I shudder to think how many of them suffer in our enemy's camps, being subjected to their superstitions and polluted by their individualism."

  "Yes. They will require much resocialization in the camps, especially for those held for much of the war," Aristide agreed. "But that does not address my concern, Admiral. If you send our ships to Trinidad or even near it, you risk exposing our presence. Even if the squadron overwhelms any defending ships and destroys the station, word will get out."

  "Which is why I am not going to send our ships," he said. "At least, not our cruisers."

  Aristide considered him for a moment. "A… test operation? But not against the station itself? It has some defenses and pirate bands that use it as a base. They would inflict damage and losses."

  "Agreed. We will be in a position to intercept the Shadow Wolf on her way to Lusitania," Hartford said. "Given we have outfitted the weapon to our ships for the operation, these traders will not see the threat until it is too late."

  Aristide considered Hartford's plans with that same neutral, controlled expression. After several seconds, she nodded. "It is a good plan, yes. I can see it working."

  "I imagined you would," he said. "Alert the captains to take their ships out. It will be a worthwhile exercise to prepare for our main plan."

  "Very well." With the final order given, she departed.

  * * *

  In the star system TR-1898, past the Spinward edge of the Trifid Nebula, space split open again to admit a cargo vessel on its way to the Tal'mayan colony of Dretani. Remaining behind was the ship, which had just rendered assistance against Jalm'tar pirates operating at the Spinward, the Morozova out of Cyrilgrad. The fact that the Morozova was a pirate ship itself gave the situation some irony, but the Tokarev brothers were honest, and ships and companies who paid them for protection received it.

  With the action over and the crew returning to standby, the Tokarevs went to their shared office just astern of the command center to await after-action reports. Their desks faced one another. Each had holos of their slain father and uncle. It was hard for them to see those smiling faces of their closest male role models and not feel the voids in their hearts and souls. That pain soon gave way to renewed hate and a desire to kill Leaguers.

  It would’ve been one thing if Sergei and Anatoly Mikhailovich Tokarev had been privateers or pirates. That life—their life—was a violent one. But they hadn't been. Their ship, the Titov, had been a mere transport. Their only crime was carrying missionaries from Cyrilgrad to a world the League had just asserted control over. Unfortunately, League authorities hated religion, and they especially hated missionaries, dismissing them as active agents of "anti-Social thinking and attitudes." The League of Sol put them all on trial and convicted them of "promoting anti-Social behavior and mental corruption." The elder Tokarev brothers and three priests of the Old Rite Russian Church were subjected to public execution by strangulation hanging. The crew of their ship had been forced to watch and were thrown into a socialization camp before being released at the insistence of the Trifid Neutrality Committee.

  The committee had undoubtedly hoped to convince the Old Believers of Cyrilgrad to respect their action as upholding the neutrality of all worlds in the Trifid Nebula Region. Those hopes did not materialize. The persecution and execution of their people had been a harsh reminder of their past, and the Old Rite Church quickly adopted a virulent anti-League posture. Still young adults at the time, Piotr and Pavel decided they would avenge their father and uncle one dead Leaguer at a time, and fifteen years later, the Morozova was notorious for its willingness to attack even superior military forces in their quest for vengeance. Their success was aided by interstellar politics and the unwillingness of the League to send armed warships into neutral space.

  And yet, the League had sent such ships in, according to Karla Lupa. The brothers were still wondering how to handle that.

  "The squadron should gather at Cyrilgrad," Piotr said. "If the League's going to use warships in our space, we must be ready for an attack."

  "That will do no good. We need allies, brother."

  "It will be up to the elders back home," Piotr said. "All we can do is prepare for whatever they decide."

  The discussion might have continued if not for a tone from Piotr's desk. Pavel looked up from the armory inventory. "What is that?"

  "Interstellar message by QET, from Father Nikolai in Sektatsh."

  "Ah."

  Pavel returned to work, imagining the missionary was letting Piotr know how his mission was proceeding. Perhaps a donation is necessary.

  Nikolai's voice came over the line. "It is dreadful, Piotr. God ca
re for his poor soul!"

  "Whose?" Piotr asked.

  "Vasily's."

  Piotr's face lost color and expression.

  Pavel looked up, astonished.

  "What happened, Father?" Piotr asked in a barely restrained tone.

  "They found his body in his home. He'd been tied down and shot—shot like a beast!" Nikolai declared.

  "Do they know who yet?" Piotr's tone made clear his interest. Vasily might have been an alien, but he’d had a kind soul. Moreover, he was a brother in Christ, a true believer. His death would be punished.

  "The authorities believe it a professional attack. Someone wanted him silenced. But they will not investigate further. You know how they are about our converts!" Nikolai's voice betrayed his pain. He was known to care deeply for those whose souls he tended to. "I have a secret convert in the police force. I asked him to continue, but he can't. They are ordered not to. He believes it was a Calnin lordling or perhaps one of the priests of Tashin who killed our poor Vasily."

  Pavel knew his brother’s facial expressions as if they were a language unto their own. Suspicion was painted across his face. "Perhaps, Father. Have you heard anything about the woman we asked Vasily to help?"

  "No. I am afraid not."

  "Please, Father, inquire about her with your sources. We'll do the same with ours," said Piotr. "And please, pray for my soul with Vasily's."

  "Of course. Why are you worried, my son?"

  "Because I may have helped cause his death, Father, and if so"—Piotr showed tears as he shook his head—"I will atone however I can."

  There was a brief silence on the other end. "I see. You meant well, Piotr. God understands that."

  Nikolai gave his standard farewell benediction, and the channel closed. Pavel drew in a breath and felt sick to his stomach. Vasily's heart had been good and kind. Slavery hadn't broken it, as it had so many others.

  "Lupa. Something about her felt off," Piotr was saying.

  "Or the League found out about her. They would have agents in place to hear things," Pavel pointed out. He gave his brother a sympathetic look. "Either way, we will find out what's going on."

  "That we will, brother." Piotr reached for the intercom key. "Semyon, make our course for Harron, best speed."

  "Yes, Captain!" came the response.

  27

  A lift brought Henry and a half dozen other people from the docking arms down into the station proper. He could feel the slight shift as they went from the graviton-generated artificial gravity of the docking arms to the centrifugal gravity of the O'Neill cylinder. The gravlift came to a stop at what passed for a customs station. Scanners checked him for dangerous firearms, weapons that could potentially pierce the hull, and cleared him to go through. His charged particle pistol was not so capable. It was why he'd bought the Danfield-Colt CP-2520 in the first place, given the number of space habitats and stations their work took them to.

  Past the customs station, Henry followed the directions to head to the Quetta District. It was one of the mostly residential living areas on the station and where Linh's fetch tech lived. Going there required a transport car ride, with another open view of the station's interior. Magella's light filled the interior, a combination of gardens and farmland with blocks of residential housing.

  The first stop warned humans not to get off without atmospheric helmets. They were in the Matrinad District, which sustained its internal atmosphere at Matrinad standard. It could nearly drown a human being inside of five minutes. One female Matrinad stepped off the lift, and none arrived.

  After a couple more stops in commercial areas, the car arrived in Quetta. Henry stepped out of the car and followed the path out of the station and into the district proper. If not for the sight of the interior of the station, the community looked as if it would fit in with the poor sections of half a dozen planets he'd been to. He consulted the information from Linh again and started walking down the street.

  As he followed the way to his destination, Henry watched the residents of the district go about their lives. From what he'd heard, some were war refugees and others fugitives from one world or another. The majority were from worlds settled by those who'd left the Indian subcontinent back in the exodus, mixed with peoples from Sumatra and Malaya. Many of the men were bearded, and the women tended to wear head shawls, although only a few veiled their faces. Few of the locals paid him much mind. His clothing was the kind a lot of independent spacers tended to wear off-ship, after all. And spacers were nothing new for the people there.

  A residential six-story building proved to be his destination. He went through the opening foyer, went past a lift that looked either broken or about to break, and took the stairs up three floors. Once there, a minute's trip through the halls took him to the door number he was looking for. He touched the door chime and waited patiently.

  And then not so patiently.

  Finally, after a few minutes, he was ready to hit the chime again. Just as he went to the door, it opened. A man with a brown complexion and thinning, whitening dark hair appeared at the door. He seemed to be favoring one leg. "It is prayer time," he scolded.

  "My apologies, I didn't hear," Henry replied. "Linh Khánh sent me."

  "Over my niece, I suppose. Are you new to the repair yards? I haven't seen you around."

  Before he could finish asking the question, a young woman bounded up to the doorway. Henry guessed she was between sixteen and twenty years of age. She shared the man's complexion and hair color—but obviously with no gray or white in it—and bore a clear family resemblance. She wore plain clothes of blue and white coloring, and her hair went down to her neck. Given she was making no move to pull a hijab on, Henry assumed she was not the observant type. She seemed more curious than anything. "Who are you, and what have you to… oh, wait!" She gave Henry a close look, and her eyes widened a little. "You're the captain of the Shadow Wolf."

  "James Henry, and yes," he said. "Chief Khánh called ahead about me?"

  "Well, yes, but I remembered you anyway," the girl said. "Your ship was one of the first she installed a fusion drive on. I saw your picture while I was studying the installation."

  The uncle made a disapproving sound. "Samina, you should introduce yourself and invite him in before pestering him with your hobbies."

  For a moment, Henry thought the girl would fire back a retort, but she caught herself while glancing toward the older man. "Yes, Uncle, of course." She looked back at Henry. "My name is Samina Khan, and this is my uncle, Ali. Please, come and have a seat."

  "Thank you."

  The two led him into their living quarters. Henry noted that Uncle Ali limped badly and trailed behind his niece. He briefly wondered what kind of injury it was and whether it was treatable.

  The apartment amounted to a big living area and kitchen space with two small bedrooms on opposite ends of the room. Their furnishings were second or even thirdhand. One was a recovered chair from a ship, given its structure. Samina took that while her uncle took a fairly comfortable-looking recliner. Another one, of fabric covering, was left for Henry to take.

  "Tea?" Ali asked. "I still have a little chai left."

  "Thank you, but no." Having heard more of their accent, Henry finally placed it. "You're from Jinnah?"

  They nodded. "We were."

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I was already out of the CDF when I heard about it. You were among the lucky ones to get out before the League's fleet cut off all escape?"

  "I brought my ship in to evacuate my family and as many as I could," Ali said. His expression turned dour. "All we had left was the ship. My niece grew up on it." He gave her a knowing look. "Which explains her infatuation with machines."

  Henry nodded. "A spacer family, then."

  Pain showed in their eyes. Samina went silent, leaving it to her uncle to answer. "We were, for a time. Then a pirate attack caught us one jump away from here," Ali explained. "The ship was a wreck, but we managed a jump. Samina and I were the only surv
ivors. Since then, we have lived here, doing what we must to survive."

  Henry caught tears forming in the girl's eyes before she wiped them away. He sighed. "Your family's been through a lot," he said. He didn't say what was on his mind, that they were living what might happen to any independent trader who lost their ship to accident or violence, trapped where they were rescued, unable to go anywhere else.

  "Chief Khánh's message said you had an offer to make to me," Samina said.

  "Yes. Well." He nodded. "My ship's not a loss, but we took some severe damage against Tash'vakal raiders, and it's going to drain my finances to fix it with station labor. Khánh thought you might be interested in signing on as an engineer's mate to help with the repairs and my costs."

  Judging by the bright smile that leapt to her face, Samina liked hearing it, but she seemed to find a snag immediately. "I'm too young to join their crews, I know… wait, when you say 'engineer's mate,' do you mean… you want me to hire onto your crew?"

  "I do," Henry said, "if we can work it out."

  For a moment, he thought the young woman would burst. She fought back a squeal of joy.

  Ali gave Henry a dark look. "You come to my home and try to take my niece away from me? To risk the last family I have left in the world?"

  Henry wondered if the uncle was indeed that opposed, which might have swung her. "I came to give her the choice," he said.

  "I… I want to talk to my uncle first," Samina said. "To discuss it with him."

  "Fair enough. I can wait outside, if you'd like."

  "If you are going to disturb my day, do more than that," Ali Khan said glumly. "Two buildings spinwise of my home is a café. They make excellent nihari."