The Frontier CEO released a sigh. “No offense, Commander, but I’m beginning to think running this company will be a lot easier when I have an office again that isn’t located in your cargo hold.”
“That…may well be, Ms. Rose,” he admitted, and cleared his throat. “I’m sure it’s occurred to you already, but I believe Moll wants more from this operation than merely securing the Cluster’s northwest. It also gives him the chance to wipe an old rival from the board. Reardon’s been a thorn in Sunder’s side for decades. Or so Mr. Mittelman tells me.”
“Mittelman’s right. Sunder’s using us as surely as we’re using them.”
“Well, at least we’re being honest about it.” Thatcher paused, considering his next words carefully. “I noticed you didn’t bring up the possibility that the Xanthic could show up in Freedom System to help Reardon. If they helped the pirates in battle, why not Pegg?”
Rose nodded slowly. “I considered mentioning it. But I still don’t trust Moll, and I’d prefer Frailey not know, either. The fewer people that know about the aliens’ presence in the Cluster, the less chance of it getting out and causing widespread panic.”
“What if they do come?”
“Then we’ll have to deal with it. You’ll be in command of this mission, Commander, and you’re briefed on the matter. That will have to be enough.” Rose shrugged. “Maybe the Xanthic have decided to stick to the shadows, for now. That’s what they’ve done so far.”
Thatcher nodded. “I hope you’re right. Could you ask Mittelman to come to my office? He doesn’t appear to be answering my messages.”
Rose gave a somewhat wry smile. “Sounds like him. I’ll instruct him to come and speak with you, Commander.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aboard the New Jersey
Vinea System, Dupliss Region
Earth Year 2290
The weekly Captain’s Inspection fell on the day before they were due to enter Freedom System, and Thatcher had a strong suspicion that much of the crew had hoped he would skip it, with an engagement looming large.
Whether they actually believed I’d skip it….
Well, maybe they had believed it. But if so, they didn’t yet know their captain very well.
As for his division officers, they seemed to have better sense than that.
“Group, atten-tion!” called Lieutenant Dolores Anthony, the Jersey’s senior supply officer. The entire supply division snapped to attention.
“Hand sal-ute,” Anthony boomed. Every supply crewmember saluted their captain, and he returned it.
“Order arms.”
They returned their arms to their sides.
With that, Thatcher marched up and down their ranks, making sure their boots shone and that their uniforms were lint-free and creased where they should be.
Most civilians didn’t understand the military’s obsession with immaculate presentation. In fact, Thatcher was convinced that many in the military didn’t, either. If it hadn’t been for his grandfather, he might never have properly understood it.
“Hospital corners,” Edward Thatcher had said in his soft-spoken way. “Polished buttons. Boots that shine. It all seems silly, to the casual observer. But combat effectiveness starts with those boots, Tad. When a soldier grows sloppy, his unit will soon follow. Disorder has a way of sneaking in from the corners of life, if you let it. Soon after, it’ll spread to everything, sewing the seeds of your defeat.”
After Thatcher finished inspecting the ranks, he moved on to the lockers, offices, and other spaces the supply crew were responsible for. Each door he approached had a man or woman of the division standing by to open it for him.
A voice came over the ship’s 1MC, and he halted, staring up at a nearby loudspeaker in consternation.
“People of the Dawn Cluster, I bring you a message of hope—a promise, but also a warning. I am Veronica Rose, CEO of Frontier Security, and today my corp stands at a crossroads. Everyone listening to these words has arrived at that same fork in the road, whether you realize it or not.”
Ah. He’d forgotten that Rose had asked his permission to broadcast her message throughout the ship at the same time she transmitted it to every other instant comm unit in the Cluster. Likewise, he’d forgotten to tell her not to do it during his inspection.
Oh, well. There was no reason not to continue.Maybe Rose’s words would even lend the process extra gravity.
As he left one office for the next, the CEO continued her first Cluster-wide broadcast. The first of many, if the constant talk from her and Moll about the importance of messaging was any indication.
“The wormhole to Earth has slammed shut, and this bountiful cluster has become our prison. We are cut off from the planet that birthed us, just as our home’s greatest hour of need has arrived. How can we conduct business of any kind, knowing humanity needs us? How can we move forward even as Earth Local Space falls under attack by the insectile Xanthic?”
Thatcher’s gaze roved around the office for signs of disorganization—a coffee stain, a dusty shelf. Any indication its occupant had started to relax the never-ending vigilance required to maintain order.
“At first, it seems impossible. Wouldn’t any decent person fall to despair, knowing their brothers and sisters were alone against a merciless foe? Shouldn’t we simply give up?” Rose paused, her intake of breath audible over the loudspeaker. “But I tell you now we must never give up. To do that would amount to a betrayal—not just of Earth, but of all the people scattered throughout the Dawn Cluster, colonist and spacer alike.
“Our duty to protect and further human prosperity does not end with the closing of the wormhole. It only grows more urgent. Because there are those who would use the wormhole’s closing as cover to exploit the innocent—to gain wealth and power off the backs of those who cannot defend themselves. And they grow bolder with every day the wormhole remains closed. Reardon Interstellar is such a villain. In their insane lust for profit at the expense of all else, they have endangered colonists throughout Dupliss Region by aligning themselves with pirates. These criminals have flooded into the region at Reardon’s invitation. Mere days ago, we prevented a gang from taking control of Prosperity Station, a civilian Helio base.”
Everything was in order, with nothing out of place. Thatcher gave the office’s occupant an approving nod and departed for the next. He wondered idly what the office had looked like before he’d taken command of the Jersey.
“Frontier does not intend to take these gross transgressions lying down. We have partnered with Simon Moll of Sunder Incorporated, and together we intend to redress every injustice without mercy. Despite being an American corp, Reardon Interstellar and its rogue CEO Ramon Pegg do not believe in truth, justice, and freedom. That is no matter. Because we are prepared to enforce those values throughout Dupliss—at the business end of a laser battery, if necessary. In doing so, we will grind Reardon to dust.”
Silence reigned throughout the ship. Thatcher had drawn to a stop between offices to hear Rose’s final, fiery words, and now his gaze fell on Lieutenant Anthony. Unbidden, a smile spread across his face.
Bold. Passionate. And more than a little over-the-top. He glanced back at the nearest loudspeaker. It was probably just what we needed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aboard the New Jersey
Vinea System, Dupliss Region
Earth Year 2290
“That was quite a speech you gave this morning.” Thatcher walked beside the Frontier CEO with his hands folded behind his back. He’d wanted to take his ship’s—and his crew’s—temperature one last time before he took the New Jersey into battle. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Veronica Rose gave him a wan smile. “If I went around talking like that all the time, I doubt many people would want to be around me. But it seems to have done the trick for getting the Dawn Cluster riled up.”
“You’ve gotten responses back already?”
“Indeed I have. We may be o
utnumbered when we enter Freedom, but with the number of corps who sent us messages of support, our ranks dwarf Reardon’s.”
“If only we could fire messages of support at the enemy.”
They reached a dead end—one of the Jersey’s special quiet places, the kind of spot where he liked to periodically bring a random crewmember, to ask about his impression of the ship, and his appreciation for his own role within her. Instead of turning around to continue their tour of the light cruiser, Thatcher and Rose stopped, facing each other.
“You should know that even some Chinese corporations have signaled their support, despite our talk of truth and freedom. So don’t underestimate the power of words in this new environment, Commander. Stranded here in the Cluster, cut off from the UNC’s main fleet…the instant comm unit may well become the highest source of authority in play.”
“Have your people managed to reverse engineer the device yet?” He knew she’d brought a couple of her techs over from the Squall for that purpose.
“Not yet. They want to dismantle it, take a look at the guts, but I’m hesitant to let them do that until we have a little more stability. Until then, the unit remains a black box, leaving us guessing at how it’s able to transmit messages faster than light.”
He nodded, tamping down an urge to lean against the bulkhead. It still seemed unusual to allow himself too much repose around his new boss.
To his surprise, she did lean a shoulder against the spotless metal surface, one hand resting comfortably on her hip while she ran the other through her whip-straight midnight hair. “I haven’t been invited to dine with you since boarding the Jersey, Commander. I know things have been hectic, but perhaps after the battle. It’s likely we would benefit from a more casual setting, and the ability to speak a little more freely.”
Thatcher’s cheek spasmed, and he fought to school his face to blankness. The CEO’s words made sense—they likely would be able to make more headway on Frontier’s direction in a more relaxed setting; one that didn’t include potential spies. But it had been Rose’s body language while making the suggestion that set him on edge.
“I…should go.”
Rose’s eyebrows lifted. She wasn’t one to overreact, but he could tell she was surprised.
“Last-minute preparations,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away from her sapphire eyes and stalking down the passageway, leaving her alone in the private cul-de-sac.
Back in his cabin, drawing ragged breaths, he picked up his framed photo of Lin from beside his rack. She hadn’t wanted to have a photo taken while pregnant, but he’d made getting one a priority before he left for the Dawn Cluster.
He’d wanted a new photo badly. One that showed her and their unborn son. In it, she had both hands over her swollen stomach, and her smile beamed radiantly into the camera, lighting up her otherwise serene face.
“I’m coming back to you,” he told the photo. “And I’ll grind the Xanthic to dust to keep you safe.”
Chapter Thirty
Aboard the Victorious
Carillon System, Dupliss Region
Earth Year 2290
“Ten minutes from the jump gate into Freedom, sir.” The operations officer cleared her throat, signaling her agitation.
But she was only mirroring her captain’s emotions, as Moll’s CIC crew so often did. That happened when you had complete respect from your subordinates. Not to mention complete control over them. Something Thatcher’s a long way from having.
“Acknowledged.” He drummed his fingers on his chair’s armrest, in the protracted way he knew set his officers on edge. That was good. Nervous officers were watchful officers, and though he rarely unleashed his ire, they’d experienced it enough to know they didn’t like it.
“I don’t believe he intends to send the order to stagger our forces, Theo.”
His XO nodded, mouth a thin line. “It seems you’re right, Captain.”
Standard jump zone evasion entailed sending in an eWar ship first as a scout, to jam any waiting ships and then rush to the corresponding jump gate to report back to the origin system. Moll frowned. “So we’re meant to send everything into a potential slaughter, with a very good chance Pegg has his ships positioned around the jump zone on the other side, just waiting to turn it into a shooting gallery. Thatcher hasn’t even given orders to implement countermeasures to account for the possibility.”
Theodore Lane made a sympathetic sound.
Moll cursed under his breath. He’d told Thatcher to his face that he wasn’t ready for the Cluster. Still, he’d had no idea it was this bad.
A career that blazed into an inferno, wasn’t it? Hell, I’m not sure he’ll even manage to light the match.
“I guess it’s up to me to make sure this operation isn’t a total disaster.” Moll turned to his left. “Ops, get me the New Jersey.”
“Aye, sir.”
Seconds later, Thatcher appeared in the state-of-the-art holotank at the front of the CIC. “Captain Moll,” he said with a calmness that bordered on arrogance.
“Commander. You do realize Reardon has almost certainly laid an ambush for us on the other side of that jump gate?”
“I considered the possibility. But I don’t think it’s likely.”
Moll exchanged looks with his XO, not bothering to conceal his incredulity. “Why wouldn’t Pegg concentrate his forces on the jump zone? Wouldn’t you?”
“Probably, but I’m an honest actor, and Pegg isn’t. As you know, his company is in a tenuous position. Certainly, they’ve gained new pirate allies, but I doubt trust flows freely between the two parties. Certainly, Pegg wouldn’t trust them to hold Oasis by themselves. There’s also the fact that there were two jump gates we might have used to enter Freedom. Pegg doesn’t know which route we chose, since we haven’t left any pirate ships operational to report that intel to him, and I very much doubt the pirates have access to instant communications yet. Pegg won’t want to split his fleet to cover both gates.”
“Still not convinced.” Moll’s chin rested on his hand. “Even with his forces split in half, an ambush at the jump zones would still prove effective with our ships trickling in.”
Thatcher tilted his head, his expression still irritatingly serene. “I don’t think you’re properly factoring the planet into your analysis. Oasis represents Pegg’s most important bargaining chip, against us and against the UNC, in the unlikely event they come knocking. He won’t give up that leverage lightly—won’t abandon it to cover two gates, with the risk of treacherous pirates or even a third adversary claiming and securing the planet against him while he does. No, he’ll have his ships huddled around Oasis like frightened sheep. And that’s where we’ll take them.”
“So you’re a mind reader. You know exactly what Pegg will do—better than he does, even!” Moll chuckled and shook his head. “Very well, Commander. It’s your funeral. Just know that the Victorious will not be the first to go through that gate. If you insist on taking such a foolhardy risk, then we’ll bring up the rear.”
“By all means. This is a Frontier operation, after all. The Squall will transition first, with the New Jersey close on her stern. Our eWar ship has orders to execute an omnidirectional jamming burst in the unlikely event Pegg has laid a jump zone ambush. In that event, all ships must scatter and regroup elsewhere inside the Freedom System. But I’m sure I don’t need to relay basic jump zone evasion to you, Captain.”
Moll felt his torso stiffen. So he is taking precautions. Whether he knew it or not, Thatcher had just made a fool of Moll in front of his officers.
“Very well,” he choked out. “Let’s proceed, then, Commander.”
“I intend to. Thatcher out.” The blasted man vanished from the holotank.
An uneasy silence settled over the CIC. Moll could understand why. His crew wasn’t used to seeing their captain in want of the upper hand.
He glanced at his XO. “Thatcher won’t last the year, unfortunately. He has no idea how ruthless things can get on
this side of the galaxy. The Dawn Cluster will chew him up and spit him out.”
“Yes, sir,” was all his XO said.
Moll gritted his teeth and waited for the first ships to transition through the jump gate.
Chapter Thirty-One
Aboard the New Jersey
Freedom System, Dupliss Region
Earth Year 2290
The jump gate gave the Jersey a cosmic shove, sending it hurtling between two distant stars. Less than a minute later, the universe resolved from the gray storm cloud of transition to the star-speckled expanse that had been Thatcher’s domain since he graduated from the academy thirteen years ago.
“You were right, sir,” Lucy Guerrero said, with a note of satisfaction in her otherwise tremulous voice. “There are no ships covering the jump zone.”
Thatcher nodded. He got the sense Guerrero was about as fond of Simon Moll as he was. He also knew she felt even more anxious than usual, with the knowledge her husband and children were just half a system away.
“Give me the situation around Oasis as soon as you have it, Guerrero. In the meantime, order the Squall to begin assembling the outrider outside the jump zone.”
“Aye, sir.”
As he’d told Moll, Thatcher sent the eWar ship through the jump gate first as a precaution against ambush. But hard on the New Jersey’s heels came a frigate, a corvette, and a logistics ship—all Frontier vessels that had joined Commander Frailey in Sable while Thatcher and Moll had fought pirates in Epact. They would form the outrider, a small force intended to harass the main enemy and sow confusion, with the aim of overloading Ramon Pegg’s attention as his ships reached out to him for help, intel, and new orders.
Thatcher had selected the outrider ships mostly for their speed. They all displaced far less mass than a ship like the Jersey or the Victorious, since as well as being smaller, all four boasted cutting-edge nanofiber structures. They also had the necessary inertial compensator upgrades to protect their crews at the higher velocities.
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