Prodigal Son (Rise of the Peacemakers Book 5)

by Matt Novotny

  Captain Lorm raised a clawed hand, even though her eyes never left the display. “The station will undoubtedly see us, and I don’t know that our weapons will be sufficient to penetrate that armor.”

  Rains had hoped that Captain Lorm would speak up. She had a vast amount of experience in space combat. While Rains had been taught space warfare by the best the Peacemakers had to offer, that book learnin’, as Amos would call it, paled in comparison to the numerous contracts Lorm had helped enforce. “What are you thinking, Captain?”

  Lorm took over the controls and zoomed in on a section of the belt nearest the station. She drew a yellow arrow from the asteroids to the station itself. “If we fire missiles into this area of the belt, we might be able to drive the asteroids toward the station.” She met Rains’ eyes. “Which will scour the station’s hull clean. Then we can sit at range and use the REX to open the door to the hangar.”

  Rains smiled. “Perfect. And while you do that, we’ll slip in the back door like Remmy visiting one of his lady friends.”

  “Hey!” Remmy exclaimed as the room burst into laughter.

  * * *

  Hope Station

  The intercom chime sounded. Kr’et’Socae hit the stud. “Yes?”

  The voice on the other end hesitated, not expecting Kr’et’Socae to answer. “Um, we have a hyperspace footprint.”

  “Excellent. Bring it up on optics once we have light.”

  “Well, they aren’t at the emergence point,” the technician explained.

  Kr’et’Socae accessed the system schematic. “You idiot, they must have maneuvered as soon as they emerged from hyperspace. Reorient the optics,” he ordered.

  The technician tapped several commands. “Sir, there are too many derelicts adjacent to the emergence zone to get a fix on them.”

  Entropy. Kr’et’Socae closed his eyes while warring emotions seethed within him. Part of him wanted to lash out at the technician. Part of him wanted to strangle Rains. But the part of himself that wanted to kill Rsach won out. He opened his eyes. “Please let me know once we have line-of-sight. Also, send a generic station message in case it isn’t them.” He switched the channel off and spun his chair back to his desk.

  “You will give yourself a coronary event,” a soft voice purred from the shadowy side of the room. A bright green eye stared at him.

  “Sin’Kura. We need to make ready to receive visitors,” Kr’et’Socae said. “And make sure our guests are presentable.”

  “It will be as you request,” she said. That got his attention. She rarely acquiesced this easily. “There is matter I need to bring to your attention.”

  Kr’et’Socae knew he wasn’t going to like this. “Go on.”

  “There may have been some inappropriate behavior toward the prisoners.”

  Kr’et’Socae watched her.

  Sin’Kura grew uncomfortable. Her eye shifted to blue. “I will deal with it.” She took an involuntary step backward into the shadows.

  “Good. Personnel issues are your problem. If you can’t handle it, I’ll have you stuffed and mounted as a warning to the others.”

  She seemed to understand, and he hoped she realized she was on thin ice with him. He decided he needed to talk with Churff sooner rather than later.

  “Back to the matter at hand. Rains.” He thought for a moment. “Let’s get the defensive batteries manned. I expect you to make sure crews are in them, personally.”

  Sin’Kura flowed into the light and bowed. “It will be as you command.” She turned abruptly and fled through the hatch.

  He just shook his head. For all of her talents, her overpowering bloodthirst would be her downfall. He just hoped he wasn’t there to witness it.

  He watched the display for a bit longer, then an idea came to him. He tapped on the interface and pulled up a schematic for their power plant. He read for a bit, tapped on various areas, then smiled at what he saw.

  * * *

  REX

  Hope System

  With the new plan in place, the crews of the REX and Ptolemy raced to finalize gear, provisions, and to program the new software packages for the drones and decoys.

  Working on a decoy, Tansil and one of the Turunmaa’s technicians stopped Remmy and Amos. “If we put the decoy in a big mylar balloon, it would have the radar signature of a ship.”

  “I love your thinking, cher, but we don’t have a big mylar balloon, and it will take too long to manufacture one. But definitely put it in the bag of tricks.”

  Amos clapped Tansil on the shoulder, and the pair moved on.

  “We’ll knock on the front door. You go get our girls,” Remmy said to Amos. They reached the airlock for the Ptolemy.

  “Pay attention, Remmy. You be careful. I don’t wanna tell Mama Bouchard her fool boy got killed,” Amos said. The men embraced, then Amos headed through the hatch. Remmy hoped they would see each other again.

  He made his way to the bridge where Bev and Captain Lorm were working with the crew to plan out their approach. Lattimore waved Remmy over.

  “How you doing, Daniel?” Remmy asked. He looks worried, Remmy thought.

  “I’ve never been in combat like this before, Remmy. I’ve always been on a transport. Our contracts were garrisons. The landings were uncontested,” Lattimore confessed. “They gave me the tactical bridge slot because the guy from the Turunmaa is handling the weapon rings.”

  Remmy glanced over his shoulder. No one was listening to them. “But what about the pirates? I know you were on a frigate that had to deal with Pushtal. And didn’t I hear your first transport got boarded by Oogar?”

  Daniel shook his head. “The Oogar were drunk and thought we were a brothel. They got mad when they realized we weren’t hiding Oogar females.”

  Remmy grinned. “See, you’ve done crazy things and seen crazier. This is just like that,” he assured Lattimore. “Just listen to Captain Lorm. She’s been through more than a few of these. Look, she even has her party shoes on.” He laughed when Lattimore looked. “You’ll be fine.” He clapped the man on the shoulder and joined the discussion around the captain.

  “Amos is off REX,” Remmy reported.

  “Comms, ask Ptolemy to separate when ready,” Captain Lorm ordered.

  “Comms aye,” the tech repeated then started talking into his mic.

  Lorm looked at Remmy. “Anything else?”

  Remmy shook his head.

  “Tactical, as soon as Ptolemy is clear, fire the distraction drone.”

  Lattimore responded immediately, “Aye, Captain. Launching drone once Ptolemy clears.” He checked his display. “They will be clear in six minutes.”

  “Very well. Remmy, can you make sure the Olympians are settled down and fed? We will be quite a while on our approach before they need to get ready. Which reminds me…” She pressed a stud on her station. The chimes sounded over the intercom. “All hands, this is the captain. We are starting our approach. I want off-watch personnel to get food and hit the bunk.”

  Remmy grimaced and whispered, “The rack.”

  “Ah yes, hit the rack,” Lorm corrected. “That is all.” She released the stud, and the intercom went quiet. “Thank you for that. Human phrases are challenging.”

  Remmy shrugged. “You do a lot better than I do with Cochkala phrases. I’m going to go find this food you mentioned.”

  Bev stopped him. “Hang on, Remmy. How do we tell ‘Bastian we’re coming?”

  Remmy flushed with embarrassment. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier? He turned to the comms tech. “The carrier wave has an inverse wave we can send. ‘Bastian is set up to listen for it. Now, we can’t carry on a conversation as it is binary code and too much wiggle might alert someone, but we can send instructions and get acknowledgements.” He moved to the station and tapped his slate to the interface. A soft bleep from the workstation signaled the data had transferred.

  “Ah,” the tech said. “I see how to do it.” He looked at the captain. “Do you want me to tel
l ‘Bastian we are on the way?”

  Lorm nodded. “Relay that method to the Ptolemy, too.”

  “Good catch, Bev,” Remmy admitted, and he felt appreciation for her insight. It would have been problematic if they had been too far from the Ptolemy. There was too much debris between the rocks and the derelicts for a line-of-sight comm laser to be reliable.

  “Someone has to keep you honest,” she said with a smile.

  He held both hands to his heart and smiled at her. “I’ll go get that food now.”

  He headed to the galley.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hope Station

  “Where are they? Get me a fix!” Kr’et’Socae demanded as he stalked across the control center.

  “They are hidden in the debris field and have deployed countermeasures. Sixty percent confidence they are in this area of the field.” The Torvasi updated the tactical display, showing a section of space filled with ore debris and cargo containers that had once belonged to a mining hauler.

  At least the Torvasi learn fast, the Equiri thought. He had warned them not to call him lord, but they had continued until he simply killed the one speaking. After that, operations had been much more efficient.

  “No response to hails,” said the communications officer.

  “We are running recognition software based on the partial scans we were able to get. No match yet; highest probability is a cruiser or an analog,” said tactical.

  Kr’et’Socae was annoyed. After Rains had obtained the data he needed on Kleve, he had expected the Peacemaker to make his best time to Hope’s End. Based on his calculations, Rains was more than two weeks overdue, and Kr’et’Socae’s patience had started to fray as the delay lengthened. Sin’Kura’s sources on Earth had reported that the mercenary group Rains had attached himself to, these “Cajuns,” had mobilized, but the whole group was hardly a dozen men. After that they had gone silent. He expected they were dead or in hiding. So much for using local talent, he thought.

  “I will send Lakanto to flush them out!” said Sin’Kura.

  “Did you hear the tactical?” Kr’et’Socae asked. “Rains shouldn’t have access to anything bigger than a Peacemaker corvette if they think he’s still in the fold; if not, he could have commandeered a commercial vessel. He could have gone groveling to Hak-Chet or Rsach, but the Peacemakers don’t have warships, and there was nothing he could get his hands on quickly even if he had the credits. A cruiser would take the Gendrus apart to no purpose; Lakanto’s no fighter.”

  “One ship is nothing against the station. What is he doing? He should report in!” said the Sirra’Kan, her cybernetic eye glowing red.

  “If it’s Rains, then he’s sizing us up and taking his time because he can. He would be less cautious if you hadn’t tried to have him killed.”

  “He had served his purpose,” she hissed.

  “And yet here we are, waiting. I dislike surprises,” Kr’et’Socae said.

  “Mistress,” said the Torvasi at the comm station. “The Athal have one ship loaded and wish to depart.”

  Sin’Kura’s eye shifted to black. “Their departure will be delayed. Tell them we are dealing with a pirate and to continue loading the F11 on the second ship. They are safe inside the station.”

  “Incoming transmission,” said comms.

  “Put it through. Trace the transmission,” said Kr’et’Socae. The comm officer nodded, and one of the Tri-V screens lit up.

  “Kr’et’Socae,” said Rains.

  “Finally,” muttered the Equiri. “Well met, Rains. You’ve kept me waiting. I am not a patient being. Do you have my package?”

  “Before we talk about that, I need to know Bes and Sabine are safe. I’m admiring your new place and wonder which door I should knock on. I think you should fire your decorator.”

  “They are unharmed. I will arrange for you to speak to them.” Kr’et’Socae turned to the Torvasi at comms. “Patch the Humans’ quarters in. Tell their keeper to get them on, now.” He focused on Rains. “I’ll have them on soon, Rains. Bring me the files. It’s what you are here for. Come over in a shuttle; you have no future with the Peacemakers.”

  “I’m here for them. One way or another.”

  “Try, and I’ll let Sin’Kura kill them,” Kr’et’Socae said.

  “Then we all go together,” Rains replied.

  “You couldn’t take this station with a battleship, Rains. So, whatever you have, it’s not enough,” Kr’et’Socae pointed out.

  The screen split. Bes and Sabine stood in front of something draped in gaudy cloth while a red-faced man glared at them from behind. Rains recognized him as one of the men from the Sanctuary attack. Bes had purplish yellow rings around her eyes that showed her nose had been broken. Sabine hugged ‘Bastian to her chest but looked unharmed. “Jac-son? Jac-son, is dat you? Our monitor don’t work so good…Is Amos there?”

  Amos cut in from another station. “We’re here, Bes! You sure are a sight for sore eyes! You both okay?”

  “We’re all right. Bumps and bruises, but we’re hanging on. We goin’ home?”

  “Working on it,” said Rains. “You just hang on and be ready.”

  “We will. Be true, Peacemaker,” Bes said.

  “Uncle Jackson,” said Sabine.

  “Hey there, Sabine. Are ‘Bastian and Nana Bes taking care of you?”

  “Uh huh. I got the uniform. You missed my birthday party.”

  Rains started tearing up. “I know honey. I’m sorry. We’ll have another party when we get you home.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Sabine.”

  Sin’Kura replaced Bes and Sabine on Rains’ screen. “How sweet. You will bring the files now, or they die.”

  “Shut up, kitty,” Rains said with a snarl. “The adults are talking.

  “Kr’et’Socae, put them in a shuttle and send them toward the gate. I’ll take one of our shuttles and sit under the station’s weapons. As soon as they are clear, I’ll deliver the files. You have my word,” Rains said.

  “Your word is worth nothing. If you are lying, the only thing I get is the satisfaction of killing you.”

  The tactical officer gave a grunt of satisfaction as a red blip appeared on Kr’et’Socae’s display. Alarms went off on Rains’ ship. Kr’et’Socae gave a savage smile as the REX became visible maneuvering in the debris field. Rains was coming.

  “I want that ship disabled!” he ordered. “If it’s destroyed, the one responsible will follow it into oblivion!”

  Sin’Kura gestured to Yeorgi. “Take them back to their cage!” She turned to the tactical station. “Activate the defenses.”

  * * *

  REX

  Hope System

  If one were to look with mere mortal eyes at the vastness of Hope System from the perspective of the tiny speck of what was now called Hope’s End, the view was stunning. The station occupied the stable center of the system, while the two suns of the wide binary, moving on separate orbits about this fixed point, had destroyed all but two of the system’s planets and created an enormous debris field.

  Hope Beta, near where the suns’ orbits overlapped, was in partial eclipse, with both suns behind the station throwing Hope’s End and drifting asteroids into sharp relief. Far out in the field, the even tinier speck of the REX rose above the massive asteroid they had hidden behind like an avenging angel, silhouetted against the majesty of the far-off galactic center and what seemed a billion, billion stars.

  “Fire tubes one through six!” Captain Lorm ordered. “Activate the drones.”

  “Missiles away,” said Daniel Lattimore, the REX’s tactical officer. Then, “Taking fire!” The bridge lights dimmed as the shields absorbed the energy from the strike.

  “Roll the ship,” said Lorm. The helmsman complied, so the energy of the attack was directed to a different area along the hull to allow the shields to recover.

  Lorm had made an educated guess as to t
he maximum effective range of the station’s weapons and had planned her strategy accordingly. That the REX hadn’t been turned into a cloud of metallic bits proved she had guessed right. Lorm let out a breath as the REX shuddered.

  Lattimore announced, “Shield penetrated, minor damage to the CASPer bay. Armor holding. Rolling to compensate.”

  “Analysis?” Lorm asked.

  “Particle cannon and laser fire. Station is firing outside our maximum range. Pattern suggests they are attempting to disable us,” he replied.

  Lorm hit her comm. “Chief, I need more power to the shields.”

  Achatina’s voice came back. “Aye, Captain, going to one-ten on the reactors.”

  Lorm let out a growl. “They are not taking us seriously yet. We will have to change that. Missile status?”

  “Two minutes to target. Missiles will go ballistic in three, two, one…mark!

  “Fire tubes seven through twelve and reload all tubes, high energy,” Lorm ordered, her tail lashing. “Tactical, status on the drones?”

  “Ten percent loss. Decoys have stopped taking fire.”

  “They know where we are.” Lorm smiled. “Why waste time chasing decoys? Commit the drones and adjust for time on target.”

  “Missiles entering threat envelope. Forty seconds to target,” Lattimore reported.

  “Fire primaries!”

  The bridge lights flickered as the REX brought the three railguns in its armor belt into service, and the computer fired rounds at pre-programmed targets faster than any flesh and blood gunner. The tungsten rounds flashed past both waves of missiles to slam into their targets. Massive asteroids that had drifted peacefully for centuries were shattered into millions of pieces of stony shrapnel, filling the relatively empty space with chaos.

  Then two things happened almost simultaneously.

  First, the sixty or so decoy drones released by the REX and the Ptolemy were marked as irrelevant once the station had a fix on the ship, and they now became fast-moving, low-yield nukes. They slammed into armored weapon emplacements on the station’s surface and destroyed them.