Siege Protocol: The Separatist Wars: Book 3

by Thomas Webb

  “Ramsey,” she said. She stood and walked over, taking a firm grip on his hand. She clasped his arm warmly. “Good to see you again.”

  Ramsey returned the gesture. “Good to see you as well, ma’am.”

  “You’re no longer under my command, Ramsey. Carol is fine.”

  “If it’s all the same, ma’am? I’d rather stick with ma’am.”

  The general nodded. “I get it.” She ushered him over to a chair in front of her desk. It would look right at home in any interrogation room. “Why don’t you have a seat?” she offered. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll take some water, if you have it?”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  General Hawley sent a wave to her adjutant. Ramsey sat himself down in the offered chair, adjusting the synth-fabric sling on his arm.

  The adjutant soon arrived with two cups—water for Ramsey and coffee for the general. Ramsey took a swallow of the water. Somehow it was more refreshing than he would have expected. He’d been seeing that same pattern of things looking, tasting, and feeling better quite a bit lately. Maybe it wasn’t really that all those other things were so much better. Definitely not in the case of the crappy recycled base water, at least. Maybe the act of finally unburdening his conscience just made everything seem so much better?

  “Congrats on making general, ma’am,” Ramsey said. He indicated the stars on her collar. She’d been a Special Forces colonel back when he was in. It was nice to see someone was making good choices and promoting the right people. “If anyone deserved those stars, it was you.”

  The general nodded, accepting the compliment. “That’s kind of you to say, Ramsey. I always appreciate it when one of my own says something like that. But any good leadership I may have displayed is due only to the soldiers who served under my command. Not the other way around.”

  “All honesty ma’am?” He was feeling honest nowadays. “You were the best commander I ever had.”

  “Thank you.” The general sipped her coffee and got serious. “Is that why you came to me? Even though you’re technically a rogue actor?”

  Ramsey hung his head. This was the part of the meeting he’d dreaded most. “Ma’am . . .I- “

  “It’s alright. Although I absolutely do not condone your methods, I can certainly understand the reasoning behind them. You know that I support the cause, same as you. It’s the same one the Council of the Outer Colonies Worlds and I fight for. The same council I now sit upon.”

  Ramsey made a face. General Hawley was a member of the council now? Maybe asking for this meet, regardless of her promise to not immediately have him thrown in the stockade, had been a mistake.

  “I know you don’t approve of how the council does things,” General Hawley said, noticing Ramsey’s sour look. “‘No teeth’ I think you said? Or something to that effect. But many would disagree with the way you’ve done things, regarding some of the actions you’ve taken.”

  She was right. He was, technically, a rogue actor. One far outside the Outer Colonies chain of command. He was a terrorist. “Yes ma’am. Despite your promise of safe passage, I realize you’re taking a risk just agreeing to see me.”

  General Hawley nodded. “Damn right I am. But I know you were a good soldier. That still counts for a lot in my book. A helluva lot. Now. . .” The general leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m willing to hear you out at least. And I admit that you’ve piqued my curiosity, what with all the risk you took coming. So tell me—what brought you here?”

  Ramsey, at long last, proceeded to unload. He told her everything. His faction’s ill-advised but good intentioned partnership with United Les Space. His capture, torture, and subsequent escape from the ASI contractors on Mios. The loss of his old friend and comrade Magna, at the hands of those same contractors. Changing his face, infiltrating the Kingdom of Kush, the bomb plot on Cetov 9 and the loss of his comrade LeBlanc. His disastrous last meet with Marty Steen’s holo image and ULS’ attempt to kill him. He laid it all out from beginning to end, for one of the only people in the universe he felt he could truly trust.

  When he was done, he felt as if a metric ton of space rock had been lifted from his shoulders. As if someone had adjusted the heavy grav in a training room down to the appropriate planetary setting. He slumped back in his chair and exhaled.

  The general, unreadable, sat quietly with her fingers steepled. She was staring not at him, but at the wall behind him. Seemingly at nothing.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Magna,” she finally said. “She was an outstanding soldier. And LeBlanc as well. I did not approve of any of you joining that radical faction. And I especially did not approve of the targeting of non-combatants. But I understand your frustrations. Your motives.” She looked at him, locking eyes. “It’s your methods I’ve never approved of. You and I will always disagree on that. But Magna and Renee were both loyal to the cause. As are you.” The general lowered her head, suddenly looking older even than she had a moment ago. “We’ve lost too many, Ramsey. On that we do not disagree.”

  “No ma’am. We do not.” Ramsey felt a sensation he hadn’t felt in some time. An uncomfortable one, and one that he didn’t particularly like. He felt humbled.

  “The council has known about the United Les Space link for a while now,” the general said. “As the representative of the council’s military arm, I’ve known about them for even longer. I’ve always had my suspicions about them . . . too much money and intergalactic political influence, for my taste. But what you’ve just told me . . .” She shook her head, setting her mouth in a hard line. “The Outer Colonies relationship with ULS ends today. That link will be severed, insomuch as I have anything to do with it.” General Hawley swore to herself. “I plan to speak to all the major factions. For the ones on the fringe, I’m not so sure.”

  “If I may,” Ramsey said, “I can speak to some of the more radical groups. I have a little pull there. I’ll try to exercise it.”

  “Give me one,” the general said holding up a finger. She activated the wave that connected her to her adjutant outside. “Lieutenant—set a holo meeting with the faction heads. I want to speak to them. All of them.”

  “Right away, ma’am.”

  The general growled a few more orders before disconnecting. “This will set us in motion,” she told him. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ve tried to read the tea leaves on the council. I think I can say with some certainty that the Outer Colonies are about to be done with ULS.”

  Ramsey fought the urge to deflate. Through his hubris, he’d cost the movement time. Worse, he’d cost it good soldiers. He hoped the damage they’d inflicted on the UN would make the sacrifice worth it.

  General Hawley sighed. “I wish you’d come to me in the first place, Ramsey. Before all this began. This thing with these contractors you mentioned. . .?”

  “Soluções Avançadas Incorporadas.”

  “That’s quite a mouthful.”

  “They go by ASI, ma’am.”

  “Yes. ASI. They’re going to be coming for you, I presume?”

  “Yes ma’am. I believe so. And if they do, I’ll try to settle that score on my own.”

  “A team of contractors, no matter how good, are the least of your problems,” the general said. “ULS tried to off you once. They won’t let their unfinished business with you lie. Christ in the stars,” General Hawley swore. “I always hated that damned company. Something about them never sat right in my gut.”

  Ramsey held his lip. He’d never liked them either. He’d always seen them as simply a means to an end. The ends had always justified the means before. Right up until they hadn’t.

  The general’s brow furrowed. She was quiet for a time. “The Outer Colonies need soldiers like you, Ramsey,” she finally said. “We need them now more than ever. Ever since I got your comm wave, I’ve been mulling something over. Why don’t you come back into the fold?” She pointed at his arm in the sling
. “Given all you’ve gone through, it certainly looks like you’ve paid for your sins. I might be able to finagle you a pardon for most of what you’ve done.”

  The offer hit him like a shockwave. Of all the things he’d prepared himself for today—prison, the general letting him walk, running away—the one thing he hadn’t expected was an offer of forgiveness.

  “I-I don’t know, ma’am,” he stammered. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Of course you can,” the general replied. “Don’t be ridiculous. What the hell’s stopping you? Look—do me a favor, will you? Just consider it?”

  Rejoining the moderate Outer Colonies factions had never even crossed his mind, and a pardon hadn’t even been on his holo-screen. But now? It seemed like it could be his one decent option out of a lot bad ones. Maybe it could work? There was only one way to find out.

  Ramsey chuckled. “As a favor to you, ma’am? I will think about it.”

  She acknowledged him with a curt nod. “Good. One last thing—this ULS asshole you were linked with. What’s his name again?”

  “Steen,” Ramsey said. “Marty Steen.” Even now the exec’s name left a sour taste in his mouth.

  “Right. Steen. Sounds like a real slime ball. I’ll tell you what, Ramsey. You take me up on my offer, and I’ll have a first mission ready and waiting for you. It’s one I think you’ll like.”

  That sounded promising. “Understood, ma’am. And what should I do in the meantime?”

  “Welp, given all the parties interested in your demise? Provided you don’t take my offer right away. . . if I were you? I’d get off-grid. And I’d do it pretty damned quick.”

  -17-

  Shane eyed the holo instruments on the screen. She nodded to herself. All indicators were in the green.

  “We’re good here, X37. Let’s make her ready for the next jump gate.”

  “Will do, Captain Mallory.”

  The AI, ensconced in a less off-putting, more humanoid shaped drone body than the usual insect-like one, worked the controls. The lights spaced around the jump gate ring shifted through their paces, changing from red to amber to green. When the gate was a go, Shane increased power to their maneuvering thrusters and eased the gunship inside.

  The trip through the jump gate was just as disorienting as ever, even after you’d done it for the thousandth time. One never really got used to it—traveling trillions of kilometers in the blink of an eye through an artificially-created, stable wormhole that folded space. But just like the proverbial leaf on the wind, they floated along without incident. After jumping, traveling to the next gate, then repeating the process, they’d just passed through the last in a series of five jumps to arrive at their destination.

  Shane allowed herself a second to reorient after passing through the gate. “Give me readings, X37.”

  The AI’s peristeel fingers flew over the holo command console. “All indicators are green, Shane.”

  “Copy that, X37. I—” Shane froze mid-sentence. Did X37 just call her Shane?

  She looked to the side at her AI copilot. “Is everything okay with you, X37?”

  “Of course, Captain Mallory.”

  The AI responded the same way she always had, and in as chipper a voice as ever. Still, Shane wasn’t convinced.

  “X37—please run a full self-diagnostic. Immediately.”

  “Right away, Captain Mallory. Processing.” A second passed. Then two. “All systems are functioning within acceptable parameters, Captain.”

  Shane’s eyes narrowed. Shane knew it hadn’t been her imagination. She knew she wasn’t going crazy. She’d heard what she’d heard. The AI had called Shane by her first name. That had never happened before.

  “Alright,” Shane said.

  She had no choice but to chalk it up to a glitch. She’d have to keep an eye on X37, though. She made a mental note to have them run an all-encompassing systems diagnostic as soon as they RTB’d. In the meantime she shifted control of the gunship to her station, just in case.

  “Take a break, X37. I’ve got the stick.”

  “Roger that, Captain Mallory. Relinquishing control now.”

  Shane took over manual flight. After the last few months, it felt great to be behind the stick of the familiar Avenger model gunship again. It was nice to have to only concentrate on one specific thing. Today that one thing was getting Gina, Hale, and the rest of the team on target, then conducting an exfil and getting them all back home in one piece.

  Shane gave the gunship some throttle, speeding past several of the target planet’s nine tiny moons. She still wasn’t sure about this—a loose contact for an exiled exec who may or may not want to flip on ULS and give them the intel they needed. The whole thing seemed shaky to her. But, then again, she and Gina had been operating on faith for the last couple of years. And that had worked out okay so far, hadn’t it?

  Shane checked their heading and sensors, more out of habit than anything specific. All systems were up and green. On the surface, things seemed simple. Fly the team in to the designated target, based on a lead one of Lima’s contacts had given them. Once boots were on the ground, they would meet with a supposed ULS defector—one willing to flip on the intergalactic corporation and testify against them. Meanwhile, Shane and X37 would stay in orbit, flying recon and watching for anything that could send the op sideways. When the team had what they needed, Shane would swoop in for a quick dust off. None of them knew what they were getting today. Intel only? Some sort of data? The ULS defector him or herself? That was even if said defector decided to come in from the cold.

  It still sounded hinky to her. But as she’d learned in the Air & Space Command, sometimes you didn’t have to like it. You just had to do it.

  Shane keyed the intership comms. “Valkyrie to Razor One—how we doing back there, One?”

  “We read you, Valkyrie,” Hale rumbled through by way of reply. “We’re good to go.”

  Shane nodded, even though Hale couldn’t see her. “Copy. We’re about ten out from planetside hard deck. I’ll break atmo, get low, then set down and let you off, just like we game planned.”

  “Sounds good,” Hale replied. “I’ll get the team set, dressed, and ready. One, out.”

  Shane believed in keeping things KISS simple. She would complete the drop, then get back in orbit away from any planetary prying eyes and wait for the pickup signal. This was looking to be a milk run.

  A milk run.

  As soon as the thought entered her mind, she regretted it. Pilots were superstitious lot by nature. There was no need to jinx this.

  That was about the same time the proximity alarms went Salusian apeshit.

  X37 perked up. “I’m detecting a ship, Captain Mallory.”

  Shane checked her instruments, searching the monitors and the feeds. Nothing. “You sure, X37? I don’t see anything.”

  “The ship is cloaked, Captain. We are able to detect its presence because our gunship has been upgraded and is now equipped with some of the latest tech from Kush.”

  “Copy that,” Shane said. She hadn’t had time to get up to speed on everything the kingdom had installed in the ship. She figured there would be time later. It seemed that later was now. “Put what you’ve got up on my panel.”

  “Sending to your holo monitor now, Captain Mallory.”

  Shane’s holo screen turned black. An image of a blue, ghost-like shape hovered over the new screen. An instant later the wavy outline of a ship came into focus. The image was too translucent to discern the make of the ship, but the fact that they saw it at all was the important thing.

  “Why aren’t they shifting to an attack vector?” Shane asked.

  “They may not be aware we are tracking them, Captain.”

  Shane looked up at the cockpit roof. Thank you, Kingdom tech geeks, she thought.

  “Looks like the current heading is the same as ours?”

  “Affirmative, Captain. They are following us.”

  A blip on the holo screen caught S
hane’s eye. “Wait-what’s that?”

  “They’ve launched a smaller vessel, Captain.”

  “A smaller vessel? What’s its heading?”

  “The planet’s surface,” X37 replied.

  “Shit,” Shane swore. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “They’ve beat us here.”

  Hale chimed in. “That sounded like a proximity alarm, Valkyrie. Any way we can get a sitrep back here?”

  “Affirmative, Razor one. We got a stealth ship on our ass. It’s following us.”

  “Can you handle it?”

  Shane frowned. “Maybe. It’s big, judging from the exhaust signature.”

  “Armament?” Hale asked.

  A good question. Shane wished she had a good answer. “Armament unknown,” she said.

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means there could be trouble with our op plan.” Shane thought fast. “I’m veering off, Razor One. They don’t know we’ve seen them, so that should buy us a couple of minutes. We got another problem as well. I need you to get up here, ASAFP.”

  “Copy. Gimme two mikes.”

  “Sure. You may want to have the team put a rush on their gear up,” she told Hale. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Good copy, Valkyrie,” Hale replied. “I’ll have the team jock up. Soon as I give the order I’m headed up.”

  Shane clicked twice to acknowledge. The ground team would have to deal with whatever was on that smaller vessel later. Right now, the bigger threat was the main ship. Shane eased the control stick to port, veering way from the planetary target and skirting two of its moons. The cloaked ship followed.

  A moment later Hale appeared in the cockpit entrance. “What have we got?”

  “This ship is tracking us.” Shane pointed to the wavering blue spot on the otherwise black screen. “I’m thinking I could lead them away. Lose them in the stars, maybe? Give you all enough time to get on target and do what you gotta do, and enough time for me to circle around and get you out.”