Satisfied that all was clear, Boyd accessed his covert device. He could not send out through the clouds of Extremis directly, but with a signal boost from the probe, he could. He opened a channel to his boss: Major Featherstone of the Blue Stars.
“Sergeant Boyd.” Featherstone’s image appeared on Boyd’s small device. “You made it out alive. Well done, Sergeant.”
“Only just,” Boyd said. “I had a few hundred Skarak soldiers after me, not to mention a couple of Union fighters on my tail as I tried to get away.”
Featherstone nodded. “Well, I’m glad you did. Where are you now?”
“Adrift in the clouds of Extremis,” Boyd said. “But safe, for now.”
“You want to come in? I can have a team come and pick you up.”
“Negative, sir.” Boyd checked over his shoulder that Thresh wasn’t walking the corridors in search of a drink. It was strange talking to the major here on the flight deck. If he had done this a few days ago, with all the Fist’s crew here, he would have been beaten to a pulp, and then they would have gotten really nasty.
“My cover is still intact,” Boyd said. “I got close to Kitzov. I can get close again.”
“Alright. Just don’t push it. I’ve not lost a Blue Star on a covert op yet and I’m not going to start with you. Do you copy?”
“Copy that, sir,” Boyd said.
“Hang tough, Sergeant. You’re doing a great job. Featherstone out.”
As the image of Featherstone flickered out, Boyd considered how much of a good job he had really done. Yes, he had gotten close, but Kitzov was still a free man, evading Union justice. Boyd had had chances to execute the criminal leader of the Faction, but his orders were to locate, not kill.
Boyd would have happily killed the man. Only his respect for his commanding officer, his fellow Marines, and his Blue Star badge had prevented him from putting a pulse round in Kitzov’s head.
But the time would come when Boyd would see justice done. Not only was Kitzov a destabilizing, dangerous element in the Scorpio System, undermining the rule of Union law, but he was also a murderer. He was responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands. But it was one man’s death that most motivated Boyd—the death of his brother, a lieutenant in the Fleet Marine regulars. Boyd’s brother had been executed by Kitzov, and for that reason above all others, Boyd hated the Faction, hated Kitzov, and risked his life to see justice, to one day see Kitzov walk up the steps of the timber scaffold outside the capital building on Terra and take a short drop into oblivion.
3
Major Featherstone stared at his desktop holo-stage as the image of Boyd vanished. The image of his sergeant was replaced by lists of text detailing the loading schedules of a dozen heavy freighters that the Resolute was due to escort to the inner system on their way to Terra.
Featherstone cancelled the text with a frustrated jab of his finger. He didn’t need to know how many tons of black ice were being stored in what compartment of what heavy. He just needed to know when they could leave. He was growing impatient with his current assignment.
The convoy of heavies was destined for the orbital base around Terra, where the black ice—a necessary element in their ship reactors—was required for maintenance and service. With the fleet dashing back and forth across the system, chasing down rumors of Skarak incursions and Faction raiders, the supplies of black ice were being stretched. And with the Faction destroying any Union heavy it came across, the freighters were now being grouped into mass convoys, each with a single fleet ship for protection.
Before the recent Skarak incursions, the heavies would rely on a Union cruiser to be nearby, ready to fight off any Faction raider that dared come too close. And even if the cruiser was too far out, the Union crew could simply batten down the hatches and dig in, secure in their command decks while the Faction tried to rob them of their cargo.
But with the Union cruisers on deployment across the outer edge of the Sphere, all scanning for the next Skarak incursion, the heavies were at the mercy of the Faction lying in wait between the belt and the orbit of Supra, the innermost gas giant.
Featherstone opened a holo-map of the system. He was currently sitting at the outer edge of the Sphere. The Resolute was holding position near the group of large, dark asteroids all bound together by a composite framework and passageways, creating a vast network of tubes leading from one asteroid to the next in a vast mining city.
The cargo port lay inside one of the mined-out asteroids at the edge of the complex. The vast rock was hollow with enough docking space for several heavies at a time. Crew and cargo came and went.
Outside the cargo port was the holding area where the heavies, loaded and ready to go, were still tethered to the port asteroid.
Running patrols around the perimeter was a squadron of Blades—fast and agile, and heavily armed with spitz guns and a single forward-mounted, high-powered laser. The squadron was enough of a deterrent to hold off any single raider, but should the Faction attempt a mass attack on the mine, the fixed defense platform was more than equal to the task of defending it. A small town in its own right, the platform housed a battery of twenty independent spitz guns and six high-energy laser assemblies, all able to pivot to target any enemy ship, or able to align and lay down a devastating barrage of laser fire that only the Union carriers could rival. This defensive firepower was augmented further with a single mass cannon, itself enough to take down any raider foolish enough to stray into its range.
Such was the value of the black ice that the Union defended so heavily. The Union had sought it out across the Scorpio System, but it could only be found in useful quantities in the Sphere. Here it was mined and then taken to the orbital facilities around Terra for processing, the facilities too precious to the fleet to be sited too far from Terra.
The Resolute was docked alongside the defense platform on the upper side of the mining facility. Featherstone zoomed out.
The outer system was a dangerous place at the best of times. The Faction began here in the outer system and had spread its separatist dogma across hundreds of outer system settlements. Raiders operated and hid out here, moving from one supportive collaborator settlement to another, avoiding the Union and striking at its weak points whenever it could.
The planet of Lastone appeared on Featherstone’s holo-map as the image zoomed out. The volcanic world was the farthest from the center of the system, making it a perfect hiding place for Faction raiders. It was almost impossible to colonize the planet due to the extremely hostile environment with its thick, noxious atmosphere and highly-volcanic crust. But that same deadly environment made it an excellent hiding place for raiders ready to strike heavies leaving the ice mines, or flee from Union ships on their tails. It was such a perfect hideout that the Union usually kept a cruiser and a pair of frigates around the planet at all times.
Next to appear on Featherstone’s small holo-stage was the planet Extremis. That was where his undercover sergeant, Will Boyd, was currently hiding in the clouds, waiting to regroup with the Faction and complete his mission of finding their leader.
It would take the Resolute and its convoy of heavies a day or more to reach Extremis. By then, Boyd would be long gone. The Resolute could make that distance in half the time, but it was under orders to limp along with the convoy and protect it from any attack.
After Extremis was the centermost planet of the outer system: Supra. Its rings reached out to the first, the largest, of its eight moons, a dwarf planet with a staunchly Unionist local administration. All of Supra’s moons were strongly aligned to the Union. They were brutal hotbeds of Union zealotry, almost as crazy as some Faction settlements. It was possibly the worst place to be discovered if you were Faction, other than the scaffold outside the capitol building on Terra, but many Faction fools had found the short drop on the capital building steps preferable to the days or even weeks of torture that the Unionists of Supra had meted out to captured pirates.
Supra was a safe place
for the Resolute and its convoy. It was likely that the Resolute would be welcomed with a flurry of pageantry when it docked. The Unionists of Supra never missed an opportunity to reaffirm their patriotism.
Featherstone leaned on his desk and looked at the distance from Supra to the inner system. He knew that after Supra came the hardest, and most dangerous, part of the trip: the belt, the central belt of asteroids that divided the outer system from the inner system. It was the current site of most Faction activity, and although Union Command didn’t make it public, it was having an impact on supplies of ice. Featherstone knew it, or there would be no reason to have him and his Blue Star frigate guard this convoy.
The image zoomed out still further and the first of the inner planets appeared: Glacies, a frozen planet that was home to a hardy breed of Union settlers who shrugged off the bitter cold as easily as those on Terra shrugged off light rain. Once Featherstone reached that point, he could break off from the convoy and let them make their own way to Terra. Then Featherstone hoped he could return to his infiltration mission. He didn’t like to be caught between two missions. Boyd was his priority, but the fleet had ordered him to focus on another job for now.
The image of the system pulled out still further and then vanished as a call from mine facility operations came in. The image of a young civilian operator appeared.
“Resolute, this is mine operations. The convoy is fully loaded and moving to holding coordinates on the star-ward side of the facility. Lead captain of the convoy has alerted us that they will be underway in moments. You are cleared to proceed, Resolute.”
Featherstone sent an acknowledgment then stood. He straightened his jacket as he walked out of his office and toward the command deck.
The corridor that led from the center line of the Resolute straight to the rear of the command deck was brightly lit. The sounds of the command deck echoed back toward Featherstone as he walked closer. Every time he entered the deck, he felt the thrill of command. This was his ship. Sure he was under orders of the Union Fleet Command, but as a Blue Star, he had a huge degree of autonomy. The Resolute was a powerful ship with an excellent crew, and Major Charles Featherstone always felt proud to enter its command deck.
“Bring the drive power systems up, Mr. Hemel,” Featherstone said as he climbed up into his command chair. “Make ready to get underway.” He looked down at the banks of consoles arranged in a semicircle around the main holo-stage, all with their backs to Featherstone. He was able to see over their heads to the displays of every station at a glance.
Jim Hemel took a candy stick out of his mouth and dropped it into his jacket breast pocket.
“Resolute drive systems at your command, sir,” Hemel said.
“Okay, take me around the systems, Sergeant Dorik.” Featherstone threw the image of the Resolute on to the main holo-stage. The map showed all decks and major systems in a green, holographic diagram.
Sergeant Dorik walked around the consoles. “Drive is go. Navigation, go. Defensive and weapons systems are go.”
“I’ve had the high-power laser emitter calibrated and realigned, sir,” Doc Cronin said.
Featherstone nodded. “Good work, Doc. Let’s hope we don’t need it.”
“We have a message coming in from the convoy lead captain,” Yanic Knole called up from the communications console.
“Main holo-stage, please, Mr. Knole.” Featherstone stepped down from the command chair and approached the stage. He stood before it, hands behind his back. The image of the convoy lead captain appeared.
“Major,” the civilian captain said. His face was stern and fierce. “The convoy is about to move off on my command. I just want to extend my gratitude to you and your Blue Stars for escorting us on this run. Faction activity is at its highest in the belt so we should have a clear run until then.”
“Copy that, Captain,” Featherstone said. “The Resolute will be running dark for the entire run, so if you have any last questions, now is the time.”
The captain hesitated. “No, thank you, Major. Myself and the other captains have been on this run a number of times. We all know the dangers, but we are all happy to know you will be out there watching over us. Convoy out.”
The image of the lead captain disappeared.
“Why are we babysitting these freighters, sir?” Hemel asked. He turned in his pilot’s chair and looked up at Featherstone.
“Orders, Jim,” Featherstone said. “That should be enough for you.”
“It is, sir. It’s just… We should be hunting Faction. Not escorting heavies. This is a job for the regular Marines. Come on, sir, we are Blue Stars.”
“The Faction is running a new strategy,” Featherstone said as he walked back to his command chair, “and it is all about destroying the heavies. They don’t engage cruisers anymore. They don’t steal anymore. They just want to blast heavies out of the void. Look at this convoy. Twelve Union heavies. This is going to attract some attention, don’t you think? We don’t need to hunt Faction, Jim. We can just let them come to us.”
“These heavy captains are insane,” Knole said. “Who would volunteer to run ice across the outer system? They have minimal armament, basic shielding. You know how many of these heavies are lost on every trip?”
“As a Steel Claw fan, I bet you know all about losing,” Hemel commented. “What’s it like to support the Curveball team with the lowest win ratio in the league?” He pulled the candy stick out of his pocket and picked off some lint before putting it back in his mouth.
“We’ve got the Blue Bloods in the River Stadium in the next round. You want to put your credits where your mouth is?”
Hemel laughed. “We haven’t dropped a point all season. Do you really think the River Stadium holds any fear for us? It’s not the fortress it used to be.”
“But we still have the best last-quarter defense in the league,” Knole said. “We’ll hold you off our line.”
“Ready to get underway,” Featherstone said lightly. With the merest sound of his voice, order descended on the command deck.
“Waiting on your command, sir,” Dorik said, taking his position at the defensive systems console.
“Let’s get these ships across the outer system and then I’ll tell you all why none of you have anything on the Ravens this season.”
Dorik laughed. Hemel and Knole replied in unison, “Yes, sir.”
“Heavy convoy moving off, sir,” Knole called out. He threw the convoy data to the holo-stage and the convoy appeared: twelve ships in tight formation, three heavies side by side in four lines with the lead heavy at the front starboard corner of the formation.
“Take position one thousand kilometers below the formation, run on the port side. We will run a slow loop around the convoy. One rotation every two hours. Passive scanners to maximum range—I don’t need to see details, I just want to know if we have company moving in. Deploy the sensor boom tail.” Featherstone opened a ship-wide channel. “Attention ship’s company. The Resolute is now running dark. Observe all dark running protocols. Featherstone out.”
Featherstone called up the range tracker on his armrest holo-stage. Five billion kilometers to the inner system. It was going to be a slow trip.
The commander of the mining facility watched the convoy disappear from his sensors as they powered away toward the inner system. It would be another few days before the convoy returned to load up on black ice again. Every time they returned, a new ship was in the convoy to replace a loss. The mine was constantly being probed by small Faction ships, small speedsters dashing into sensor range to take a peek. But the defensive platforms were more than enough to send them flitting away as soon as they appeared. No Faction ships had dared come within weapons range in years. The mine was about the safest place in the Scorpio System. The commander just hoped that when he was rotated out, he could hitch a ride on an escort ship, not a heavy. If and when he made for his home in one of the cloud cities of Supra, he wanted to be sure to make it alive.
&n
bsp; A signal appeared on the holo-stage on the command center just as he was about to turn away to finalize the departure logs for the convoy. A signal was approaching from beyond the Sphere.
He’d heard rumors of Union cruisers deployed beyond the Sphere, watching the perimeter of the system, but he expected them to be running dark. Maybe this cruiser was due some shore leave and the mine, although utilitarian, had more entertainment to offer than a cruiser’s recreation room. The mining facility had bars and virtual simulation suites offering any and all violent or relaxing activities.
The commander sent out an ident request. The defensive platform showed it was powered up and targeting the incoming signal.
“This is the commander of the mining facility. Incoming ship, send ident codes now. You are moving into range of the defensive platform. Present Union ident or the platform will open fire.”
The signal came closer. It was moving fast. The fighters on patrol swept across the facility and raced out toward the incoming signal. Then the ship came fully into sensor range. The spitz guns opened fire.
The ship was vast. The ship was Skarak.
4
Billions of kilometers from the belt, in between the orbits of Lastone and Extremis, was the lone Faction raider the Fall. The ship sat and waited for a target.
Captain Bellini was one of the Faction’s most aggressive captains. He had gained quite a reputation for brutality, built on the fact that he never knowingly left Union crew alive after raiding their ships. He was admired and loathed in equal measure across the Faction. Many pirates thought it was bad business to murder so many innocents if they gave up the plunder, because it just invited Union attention, but Bellini was one of Kitzov’s top earners. His brutal approach meant he took down more Union heavies than the next best pirates combined.
Blue Star Marine Boxed Set Page 27