Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight

by Gibbs, Daniel

  Today, they would be ratifying a new treaty with the people who chased their ancestors off Earth. It was a sort of cosmic joke. Members of her party were ambivalent about the whole thing, but the other lead government parties, the Nationalist-Republicans and National Liberals, were quite insistent on it. As she could not yet act on Karla Lupa's statements about the League being responsible for the ship disappearances, she and the PdDN would go along with it. It was a necessary evil to keep their governing coalition intact.

  There was noise behind Caetano, the dull thud of something hitting the ground. She turned to find that the housemaid hired by the owner of the building had accidentally knocked a table lamp off her dresser. The young woman, with bronze coloring a shade darker than Caetano's and a pretty round face, was already stooping to pick it up under the stern gaze of Caetano's armed bodyguards. Nervousness was apparent in her light-brown eyes as she set the lamp back carefully, handling it with even more care than the auto-firing pulse guns being quietly leveled her way by Caetano's ever-watchful bodyguards. "Sorry, Minister," she said softly. Her Portuguese had a Galician accent.

  "Beatriz, isn't it?" Caetano asked.

  "Yes, ma'am." Beatriz glanced around quickly. The bodyguards were not lowering their guard, but their weapons were starting to dip a little. "I'm very sorry."

  Caetano could see the young woman was upset, and not just at her mistake. "You are usually quite careful," Caetano observed. "Is something the matter?"

  Beatriz sucked in a breath. For a moment, she seemed to reluctant to do anything, and her body shook. Caetano could see when the tension in Beatriz eased. She'd made her decision. "My brother Julio," she said. "He's… he's a member of the League for Democratic Unity. He's protesting today."

  "Ah. You worry for his safety." Caetano found the admission interesting. "Do you share his political beliefs?"

  "I do not follow politics. I am too busy pursuing my degree in metallurgy at National University," Beatriz admitted.

  Caetano found that fact intriguing. She hadn’t known her maid was a university student.

  "I… I know you hate them, but he's a good man. He's not a traitor. He wants our people to have more freedoms."

  Caetano's face betrayed a hint of sadness. "I know what it is like to have someone you love, to have family who risk themselves for their convictions," she said quietly to the younger woman. "Rest assured, Beatriz, that unless the situation requires it, I will not raise a hand against Julio or those with his convictions."

  Beatriz’s eyebrows shot up. "You… you won't?"

  "No. I believe he and his people are wrong," Caetano began. "Our nation requires us to set our freedoms aside to protect the nation, the entire planet, from the war. And I can tell you that some use his party as a cover to promote foreign interests that would not match ours. But I do not hate them all. I consider them misguided. And so long as the state is not threatened by their actions, I will not have them harmed."

  "But your party…"

  Caetano laughed. "My party is not a hive mind with me as the queen bee. Some of my people allow their patriotism to get the better of them. I rein them in when possible. But it is not always possible. Today, I suspect they will counter-protest as they always do, and my police are ready to intercede to protect the lives of Lusitanian citizens."

  Beatriz nodded at that. She was still clearly surprised. "Thank you, Minister," she finally managed.

  "You are quite welcome, Beatriz. I hope I have set your mind at ease. My room could use a little extra dusting today." Caetano grinned at her. "I wish you the best in your studies on metallurgy."

  That resulted in another round of thanks before Caetano departed the room, her bodyguards following. As they exited the apartment proper, one said, "That was nice of you, Minister. A shame her brother's a traitor."

  "The tricky thing about treason is that sometimes the traitor does not know he is one until it is too late," she replied. "We are due at Parliament, gentlemen. Lead on."

  * * *

  Given what he’d accumulated from his time in public service and private industry, Vitorino had the wealth to live in greater splendor than Caetano's modest apartment in the government district. His home was in the upper-crust Lake Verde District, a two-level mansion of average size bought at a discount from the prior owner, an import-and-export company owner expressing gratitude for Vitorino's assistance. His bedroom, the master bedroom, was on the second floor, a finely carpeted and furnished chamber that by itself was the size of a barrio apartment for a family of four. The balcony there provided a view of the parliament building and other sites from a removed distance—visible but part of the general surroundings.

  Vitorino considered that view while eating a morning breakfast cooked by his professional kitchen staff. After seeing to some last-minute correspondence and dressing in his best suit, he was met by Raoul for the ride to parliament. "No surprises?" he asked.

  "None," Raoul promised.

  "Good, good." Vitorino grinned and sat back.

  On their way, Vitorino noted that the city seemed tense. There were political gatherings ready to become protests and counterprotests scattered around the city. The Gamavilla police force was out to deal with it, aided by the RSS and the National Police. Anyone foolish enough to start a violent demonstration would find themselves in the city's jails in short order.

  They arrived and came in through the cabinet's special entrance. Security was less intrusive if still quite thorough, given the intensity of the scans they were subject to in order to ensure they were clear of anything from planted bombs to listening devices. Once they were inside, Vitorino headed straight for the assembly chamber.

  The room was a modern take on the parliamentary assembly rooms seen in many countries. The six hundred and twenty members of the Assembly itself were seated in a half circle of multiple tiers in the southern half of the chamber, with galleries raised above their seats for visitors. The pit was for whoever took the floor to address the Speaker of the Assembly, who enjoyed the highest position on the north side of the room. The President of Lusitania, if in attendance, sat beside the Speaker, bound by Lusitanian law and custom to not speak unless requested to by the Assembly. But Vargas was not there today. The Prime Minister likewise had a seat beside the Speaker but typically only spoke when asked or permitted by the Assembly.

  Below the Speaker's podium and above the pit, a line of desks and attendant chairs was set for the attending members of the cabinet. Vitorino found his seat near the middle. By circumstance, this put him beside Caetano, with Minister al-Idrisi beside her. On Vitorino's other side was the Finance Minister, a fellow National-Republican named Rosalía Ferreiro.

  With most of the seats filled, the Speaker of the Assembly took his podium, signaling to all the session was due to begin. Saturnino Acosta was the oldest leading member of the Nationalist-Republicans and a former Prime Minister himself. With the rest of the cabinet, Vitorino swiveled in his chair and looked up at the older man as he called the session to order.

  It was not easy. There was real malice in the Assembly, even over something as relatively minor as a trade agreement. The democratic parties saw the League as an unconscionable threat to the dignity and freedom of humanity, and the Socialists—the second-largest party in the Assembly—despised them as a twisted and totalitarian corruption of their ideology. The government parties, on the other hand, were much like Vitorino in their thinking—Lusitania's economy was enriched by foreign trade, and that meant getting as many trade partners as possible. Since the Coalition placed export controls on strategic goods and resources necessary for their war efforts as well as on luxury and consumer goods containing technology with potential military applications, the League was a source for the same that couldn't be ignored.

  With effort, Acosta took control of the session. At his bidding, the clerk confirmed the attendance roll and read the treaty. It was not the stuff of drama, especially since Vitorino felt that the Basque clerk's Portuguese accent
was atrocious.

  Once the reading was over, the first representative to get the Speaker's attention called for Vitorino, as Trade Minister, to answer questions. This request was affirmed by a vote, and Vitorino, with grace, stood from his seat, leaving Raoul behind to keep everything in order while he rounded the cabinet desk and descended into the pit of the chamber. He stood at a podium facing the assembly and invited the questions with a confident grin.

  Some he considered reasonable. Most he thought were inane or petty. A few were even ridiculous. Nevertheless, he kept his smile on as they came. When it looked like they were done, Vitorino turned to the Speaker and asked, "May I have the floor, Mister Speaker? I wish to make a statement."

  "The Assembly recognizes Minister Vitorino," Acosta remarked with solemnity.

  "I thank the Assembly for its patience and time. I will not occupy more of it," Vitorino said. "I only wish to impress upon you the value and need of this agreement. The galaxy is dangerous these days, and trade is getting more difficult. If we wish to continue thriving, we need to work with other worlds, other systems, even governments like the League. Whatever we think of their domestic politics—and I have my own qualms about them—they are not going to disappear because we wish it. They're a fact of life, and we should be willing to extend the hand of friendship to them." His voice carried through the assembly, aided by both the microphone and the carefully designed acoustics of the chamber. He was gratified to see that many were considering his words. It was clear that he hoped to convince all of them to side with the new treaty.

  He took a quick swig of water to wet his throat then glanced back toward his digital reader to continue his statement.

  That was when the bombs went off.

  33

  The Shadow Wolf emerged from the third wormhole it'd generated since leaving Trinidad Station. It arrived in an uninhabited system, TR-778, with an A2 star. Piper had the watch with Brigitte and Felix. She looked over the holotank display of the course she'd plotted and noted with satisfaction that the next jump would bring them to Lusitania and relative safety.

  She remembered herself and directed a look to the helm. "Well done, Brig," she said. "That was a textbook wormhole entry."

  "Thanks, Piper," Brigitte replied, her tone chipper. She didn't fly the ship often, given that the usual piloting rotation was Cera, Felix, Piper, and Vidia in fourth. The chance was both daunting and a little fun. "Think I'll work into the rotation?"

  Piper smiled at that. "We'll see. We're pretty well covered on the helm, after all."

  "Always good to have options," Felix added from the operations seat, "just in case of emergencies."

  "Speaking of the possibility…" Piper looked back to the holotank. "Anything we should be worried about?"

  "Got a contact a few hours out," Felix said. "They'll cross our path in two hours at current course and speed. It looks like a passenger liner. Probably running the New Kerala-Lusitania route." Felix looked at Piper, clearly concerned. "Although given the circumstances, we can't be too careful."

  "We'll adjust course slightly. But not too much. Otherwise, we may scare them." Piper glanced at the holotank and ran the calculations through her mind for a moment. "Brigitte, alter heading by zero-zero-zero mark positive zero-zero-one." It was only a one-degree course change, but for Brigitte's education, Piper used the full term.

  "One degree angle up. Right." Brigitte did so.

  "At this distance and these speeds, that'll keep them a safe distance, and it'll look like we're just being courteous," Piper reasoned aloud.

  "Works for me," said Felix.

  They went silent for some time, each going over their thoughts while attending to the duties of their respective stations. The minutes became an hour. As they approached an hour and a half, Piper glanced to the holotank, which was showing the incoming contact. Something about the range didn't sit right with her. She checked, and it looked like the ship wasn't quite going to pass by but was closer than she'd intended.

  Her first impulse was to assume she'd just miscalculated slightly. Her first full thought didn't dismiss that idea so much as consider what it meant if she hadn't. Perhaps the incoming liner had also altered course. That made her wonder why. Changing position in-system between jumps was common in these systems, if only to reduce the risk of being motionless in a pirate ambush, but she couldn't think of why the liner would reduce the distance between them.

  "Felix, what do you make of this?" she asked.

  Felix looked up from his short-range sensors, more concerned with sudden arriving wormholes, and checked the holotank. "They're a bit closer than they ought to be," he said. "What's up with that?"

  "I don't know. Think I should raise them and ask if anything's wrong?"

  "If they're looking for us, it'd just give away they've found us," Felix said. "Let's see how interested they are."

  "Right. Brigitte, adjust course, three-five-seven mark three-five-nine."

  "Right." Brigitte put her hands on the control wheel, opting for manual course correction over inputting it in to the thruster systems. The turn and push of the wheel shifted the Shadow Wolf's course three degrees to port and one downward on the bow. "Course changed."

  "Time to jump?" Piper asked, even though she knew the answer: at least three more hours, given the delicate nature of their drives since the double-jump into Trinidad.

  "Pieter's counter shows two hundred minutes," Brigitte said.

  "Right." Piper checked the course and speed of both ships. As things stood, the liner would come closest to them in thirty-three minutes at its current course and speed, being just outside of the engagement range of the plasma cannons. Close enough for missiles, but at that range, our auto-turrets can shoot them down. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid," she admitted to the others.

  "It's not paranoia if you know someone's out to get you," Felix pointed out.

  "Right."

  Time continued, and the tracks of the ships didn't change. Piper calculated the moment to being near each other over and over, with the time falling below half an hour to a quarter of one. There was no sign of a further course alteration by the other ship.

  "Power spike," Felix said, his voice tight and alert.

  "They're increasing speed?" Piper's heart went from solid, strong pounding to a more frenetic pace.

  "Yes." Felix was intent on his instruments. "Acceleration profile is picking up and… wormhole forming. They're jumping."

  Just like that, the tension left the bridge. They were alone in the star system again. Piper let out a breath and urged her heart to slow to a more normal rate. "This sucks," she said.

  "Like being back on a war patrol." Felix turned to her and grinned. "I felt like I was back in my days as a TAO on the Epaminondas."

  His board beeped.

  A chill spread through Piper as Felix's head snapped back around. "Another wormhole signature," he said. "Two hundred thousand kilometers."

  That was somewhat close, almost within engagement range, but not "on top of them" close. Piper tapped a button on the command chair that would automatically trigger the liquid crystal display built into the forward wall of the bridge, directing it to show the magnified camera feed from that direction.

  The swirling wormhole was still open, and a ship emerged. It was a liner like the other, painted green and blue from the livery of a liner company. Piper identified it tentatively as a Holden-Nagata model like the Shadow Wolf, a larger Mark V passenger liner.

  After a few seconds, a warning flagged in her mind. The profile wasn't quite right. The surface wasn't as smooth as the model was meant to have. The profile was lumpy, ugly, as if things had been bolted to the hull. On the bow, a long two-pronged device that made her think of the jaws of an antlion was starting to point their way.

  Piper's eyes widened. "Evasive action! Brigitte, evasive…"

  Cerulean lightning crackled from the prongs and crossed the distance. The lightning seemed to fill the screen, lighting up the bridge.


  Then it was gone, and the three were plunged into blackness.

  * * *

  On the bridge of the repurposed Hathaway Clipper, Commander An Rong Zhung watched intently as the electromagnetic pulse rippled over the hauler on the converted liner's internal screen. It crackled like lightning as it traveled the length of the ship. The running lights went out, and at the end, the engines on the target vessel died as well.

  At a station beside her, Lieutenant Hakao Saratov looked up. "Target vessel disabled, Commander," he said, his English accented with a hint of an accent from the Russo-Japanese colony world of Toyohara.

  "Excellent work," she said mostly to the ship's astrogator and helmsman, who'd used the incoming data from the probe they'd left in-system to jump into firing range of the EMP cannon. "Bring us into range. Ready the grapplers."

  "Aye-aye, ma'am."

  Another officer, European in appearance and with a Scandinavian accent, spoke up from beside her. "The Marines are ready to go over at your command, Commander."

  "When we're in range," she replied. A small smile came to her face. "No need to waste fuel when they can't run."

  * * *

  Henry woke to banging on his door. The first sign that something was wrong came when the light didn't come on at his command. The second sign was that he was lying on nothingness. He was half a meter above his bed, in fact, showing that the gravity was down. He immediately reached down and grabbed the surface of the bed, gently pulling to bring himself back into contact with it.

  In the dark, he scrambled instinctively for two things, his Danfield-Colt pistol and his commlink, which proved his only source of light. Zero-G training kicked in, and he used a basic kick-off to push himself to his door, where a grip on the side allowed him to prevent himself from floating away. The door didn't respond to his pressing the open key beside it, telling him the ship was suffering a severe power loss. He reached for the automatic release on the door's privacy lock, essentially turning it into a sliding door that a moment's effort moved out of the way. As he'd expected and dreaded, the main corridor of the ship was pitch-black as well.