Ep.#14 - A Line in the Sand (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  “Okay, I get it,” Nathan said. “It’s like in hockey. If you’re afraid of getting checked, your eyes are on the guy going into the corner with you instead of on the puck.”

  “What’s a puck?” Kit asked.

  “Are you ready to continue?” Jessica asked Nathan.

  “Go ahead and light him up again, Kit,” Jessica instructed.

  “What?” Nathan objected.

  “But start easy,” she added. “Just give him a light beating for now.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Kit promised with a smile.

  Nathan raised his guard again. “This is not how I saw this day going.”

  * * *

  Alert klaxons sounded throughout the Aurora, and Naralena’s voice echoed through the corridors, calling the crew to general quarters.

  Cameron came charging up the ramp onto the command deck, moving at a fast pace toward the bridge.

  “Report!” she barked as she entered the bridge.

  “Another missile attack, sir,” the tactical officer reported. “Aurora snapped into action as soon as the first wave appeared.”

  “Third wave just jumped in,” Kaylah reported from the sensor station. “Opposite direction from the first two. Twelve inbound. Fifteen seconds!”

  “Two down!” the tactical officer reported as the ship’s point-defenses fired away at the incoming weapons.

  “Aurora,” Cameron called as she headed for the command chair. “Channel all available power to the shields that are about to be hit.”

  “Five down!”

  “Already done, Captain,” the Aurora’s AI replied.

  “Six down!”

  “What direction did the first two waves come from?” Cameron asked.

  “Eight down!”

  “Starboard dorsal,” Kaylah replied. “From the direction of Takara, just like before.”

  “Ten down!”

  “Aurora, be ready to switch power back to starboard dorsal shields,” Cameron added.

  “Understood.”

  “Brace for impact!” the tactical officer called over the ship-wide loudspeakers.

  The ship rocked as one of the last two missiles struck their shields and detonated.

  “Port ventral shields down to forty percent!” the tactical officer warned.

  “Where did the other missile go?” Cameron wondered.

  “The Glendanon maneuvered closer in and took the hit,” Kaylah reported.

  “Damage?”

  “Minimal,” Kaylah replied. “Another wave! Starboard dorsal! Five seconds!”

  “Aurora?” Cameron called.

  “Channeling power to starboard dorsal shields,” their AI responded.

  “Brace for impact!” the tactical officer warned again.

  Again, the ship rocked, this time with three impacts, the last of which nearly knocked Cameron out of her seat.

  “How many was that?”

  “The last wave was eight!” Kaylah replied. “The Glendanon’s point-defenses took out four of them, and we took out one.”

  Cameron waited a moment, expecting her sensor officer to report another round of missiles coming at them, but that call did not come. “A two-pronged attack means they’re using their one good warship for the opposite strike angle.”

  “Why now and not before?” the tactical officer wondered.

  “That’s a good question,” Cameron replied, rising from her command chair. “Maintain general quarters for ten minutes,” she instructed as she headed for the ready room. “Stand down after that if there are no more attacks.”

  “Aye, sir,” the tactical officer acknowledged.

  “Load up a jump comm-drone,” she instructed Naralena as she passed. “I want to send a message to Captain Scott.”

  * * *

  Jenno Motto sat quietly at his desk, flanked on either side by his lieutenants. When the door burst open, and the black and crimson armored Zen-Anor entered, neither he nor those standing with him so much as blinked an eye.

  The Haven Syndicate had dealt with its share of gangsters. To them, the Dusahn were no different. Just with better uniforms and more guns than most.

  “Gentlemen,” the greeting came as the Zen-Anor stepped aside and revealed the man they guarded. Lord Dusahn stepped forward, his swagger as confident as ever, despite the fact that his once powerful fleet had been reduced to one of the smallest, weakest fleets in all the quadrant.

  Jenno said nothing, but his emotionless expression spoke volumes.

  Lord Dusahn knew his usual tactics would prove useless with the Haven Syndicate. They had been one of the few worlds with which threat of force had wielded little influence. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

  “We know why you’re here,” Jenno stated. “You’ve finished intimidating the cluster worlds, and now you hope to do the same with us.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth,” Lord Dusahn insisted. “Mind if I sit?” he asked, taking a seat across the desk from Jenno.

  “Actually, I do.”

  Lord Dusahn ignored him. “The first part is true, of course. I did remind the cluster worlds who rules them, but I did not come here with similar intent. I do not make the same mistake twice.”

  “Then you admit that your first attempt to conquer Haven was a mistake,” Jenno surmised.

  “My mistake was in misidentifying how best to motivate your little syndicate. People such as yourself see profit as a means to power, rather than the other way around. I should have offered you a lucrative business arrangement. I am here to rectify that error.”

  “We’re not interested,” Jenno replied.

  “You haven’t even heard my offer,” Lord Dusahn protested.

  “The Haven Syndicate does not wish to do business with the Dusahn Empire.” It was the first time Jenno showed any sign of emotion.

  “Name your price, and we’ll pay it,” Lord Dusahn boasted.

  “Had you said those words ten years ago, we might have listened,” Jenno replied. “Now, with so many worlds having jump drive technology, the market is big enough that we can afford to pick and choose our customers. And we do not wish to do business with those who enslave others.”

  Lord Dusahn laughed. “You don’t see the irony here, do you? Your entire labor force is nothing more than slaves.”

  “Working off legal debts incurred by their own choosing,” Jenno corrected.

  “Under conditions far more harsh than on any other world.”

  “It is what it is.”

  “Did it not occur to you that I should have ended your life when you did not show the appropriate respect when I entered?”

  “Had you taken any action against me, it would have been your last,” Jenno insisted.

  Lord Dusahn looked at the men standing to either side of Jenno, then at his own Zen-Anor troops standing behind him. “You’re a bit outnumbered.”

  “Beneath you sits a warhead,” Jenno told him. “One that failed to detonate during your first visit to our world many months ago. Should something untoward occur during your visit, it shall not fail to detonate a second time.”

  Lord Dusahn smiled. “You have good intel.”

  “And my intel tells me not to trust the Dusahn Empire. And the Haven Syndicate does not do business with those who cannot be trusted.”

  Lord Dusahn did not look pleased. “You should choose your words more carefully, Mister Motto. There is a warship parked in orbit above your world.”

  “Your only warship.”

  “And yet more than enough to wipe your world from existence.”

  Jenno leaned forward, disdain in his eyes. “You are a wild animal that has been backed into a corner. That is why we choose not to do business with you.”

  Lord Dusahn said nothing, just stared back with eq
ual disdain. He wanted to reach out and snatch the arrogant bastard’s larynx and rip it out of him. But the leader of the Haven Syndicate was well prepared. Lord Dusahn knew that he had been backed into a corner, and despite his overwhelming firepower, he had no option but to accept their refusal…for now. “You are making a grave error, my friend.”

  “It would not be my first,” Jenno replied. “I shall not be insulted if you must cut your visit short.”

  Lord Dusahn flashed a menacing smile as he rose, turned, and headed out the door without another word.

  Jenno watched as the Dusahn leader departed, his elite bodyguards in tow. After a moment, one of his men spoke. “You do know they’ll destroy us.”

  “A week ago, I would have agreed with you,” Jenno stated. “In fact, a week ago I would not have refused them. But with most of their fleet destroyed, they may be forced to operate differently.”

  “Does a koranta not show its fangs when cornered?”

  “We shall see,” Jenno replied. “We shall see.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cameron stood next to the Aurora’s tactical station, not bothering to take her seat at the command chair given the brevity of recent attacks.

  “No more contacts,” Kaylah reported from the sensor station.

  “Threat board is clear,” the tactical officer added.

  “Stand down from general quarters,” Cameron ordered. “Set readiness condition two. If there are no further threats after fifteen minutes, stand down to condition three.”

  “Understood,” the tactical officer acknowledged.

  “Captain on the bridge!” the guard at the entrance announced as Nathan and Jessica entered.

  “Any damage?” Nathan asked.

  “None,” Cameron replied. “Just the daily harassment from the Dusahn. This one was easy, only a single wave of eight. Yesterday, they threw three waves of eight to twelve at us, and with much closer arrival points. We took several hits, but no real damage then either.”

  “This has got to stop,” Nathan decided. “If we can’t attack them, they shouldn’t be able to attack us.”

  “You’re expecting the Dusahn to play fair?” Jessica laughed.

  “No, but they need to learn that there will be consequences to continued attacks against us, or any of our allies. To be honest, I should’ve responded to the very first attack.”

  “What do you propose we do?” Jessica asked. “We’re still in no shape to attack.”

  “We can lob jump missiles at them just as easily as they lob them at us,” Nathan insisted. “In fact, we can do it even more easily.” Nathan turned to Cameron. “Do we have Orochis back yet?”

  “Yesterday,” Cameron replied. “Four patrolling here, four in the Orswellan system, four in the Rogen system, and four standing down on Rakuen. The plan is to cycle them through on one-week rotations. Three weeks on, one week off.”

  “Good. And the Gunyoki?”

  “Same thing. Rogen command has put replacement ships in action, so we’re back up to one hundred, all equipped with grav-lift systems so they can operate from surface bases. Twenty-five cycling patrols in each system, and one group on week-long stand-down.”

  Nathan thought for a moment. “That should be more than enough,” he decided. “Naralena, get the commanding officers for the local Gunyoki squadron and the Nighthawks on comms, and patch them into my ready room. The next time the Dusahn send missiles our way, we’re going to have a little surprise waiting for them.”

  * * *

  Del Torman, Prime Minister of the Palean Commonwealth, felt trapped. He hated the Dusahn, and all they stood for. Thousands had died when they had first invaded his world months ago, despite the fact that little to no resistance had been offered. For the past few weeks, they had only been visited twice by their warships—warships that no longer existed.

  Minister Torman longed for the old days, back before jump drives. Interstellar distances had always acted as the perfect buffer between worlds. Those distances gave them months, sometimes years to make decisions such as these. Those distances allowed them time to prepare for the consequences of their actions. But now, the very distances that once protected them threatened them on nearly a daily basis. Their militia, which had been one of the best planetary defense systems in the sector, was practically useless. Their economy could not support the development of systems designed to defend against jump-capable warships and weapons. They were a relatively simple world, one that depended on ships from other worlds for trade.

  It wasn’t just Lord Dusahn who knew this. The Palean Council knew it as well. At the moment, the vote was split, and Prime Minister Torman held the deciding vote. A vote against Lord Dusahn’s offer held the risk of military reprisals, though less severe than before. The Karuzari had all but crippled the Dusahn’s fleet of warships, but the risk was still there, and his world had still not fully recovered from the initial invasion. A vote for Lord Dusahn’s proposal meant a boost to their highly stressed economy. It meant more jobs, greater profits for Palean corporations, and a better standard of living for their people.

  But at what cost? Cooperation with the Dusahn would be akin to supporting them; the very thought sickened him.

  Unfortunately, he had to do what was best for his people, his own personal feelings about the Dusahn aside. Sometimes, you had to dance with the devil to avoid being burned.

  “The vote is tied, Prime Minister,” the council recorder reminded him. “How say you?”

  Prime Minister Torman looked at the council recorder, then at Lord Dusahn, who was standing at the podium at the center of the chamber. “The people of Palee accept Lord Dusahn’s trade proposal, and we welcome and appreciate this opportunity to benefit both our worlds.”

  Lord Dusahn forced a smile. “Thank you, Minister Torman. The Dusahn Empire looks forward to doing business with the people of Palee. Our ministers will be in contact to make arrangements, so that we can immediately begin fair and equitable trade.”

  Lord Dusahn turned and marched out of the Palean Council chambers without saying another word, his Zen-Anor protection detail turning to follow with practiced precision.

  Once the chamber doors closed, one of the council members spoke. “I hope we do not regret this decision.”

  Prime Minister Torman sighed. “I am certain that someday we will.”

  * * *

  “Marcus, right?”

  Marcus turned around, already angry that someone had interrupted him yet again. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Del Shelton,” the young man introduced, holding out his hand in friendship.

  “You’re one of the subversives,” he said, returning to his work without shaking the kid’s hand.

  “Uh, something like that, I suppose.”

  “Whattaya want? I’m kinda busy.”

  “I have an idea for a modification to your ship,” Del explained. “Well, it’s not really a modification as much as it is a strategic use of space.”

  Marcus cast an angry look at Josh, who was working on the other side of the XK’s docking collar. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t look at me, Pops,” Josh chuckled. “I don’t even know the guy.”

  “I think we have enough work to do, kid,” Marcus grumbled, already set on ignoring him.

  “This wouldn’t really be much work at all,” Del insisted. “Just the installation of a few automated overhead docking clamps inside the forward cargo bays, and maybe a combination propellant and electrical umbilical.”

  Both Marcus and Josh stopped working, looking at Del.

  “A what?” Marcus snapped, becoming more annoyed with each passing second.

  “An umbilical,” Del repeated.

  “For what?” Josh wondered, becoming interested.

  “A P-Seventy-Two Lightning.”

  “What
the hell is that?” Josh asked.

  “It’s a fucking race car,” Marcus laughed. “What the hell are we going to do with a race car?”

  “Lightnings are not race cars,” Del corrected. “We call them pocket fighters.”

  “What’s a pocket fighter?” Josh wondered, becoming more intrigued at the use of the word fighter.

  “With just a few modifications, a P-Seventy-Two racer can be turned into a jump-capable, short-range fighter. One that is small enough to fit in your cargo bays.”

  “Cool!” Josh exclaimed.

  “Not cool,” Marcus argued. “Stupid! This ain’t a carrier, kid.”

  “Maybe not, but based on what I’ve been told, you don’t really know what the mission profiles are going to be for these ships. So, why not make them as versatile as possible?”

  “How well armed are they?” Josh asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Marcus snapped. “We ain’t gonna carry them.”

  “Twin wingtip-mounted pulse plasma cannons, two rocket pods carrying twenty self-guided flechette rockets, and two swarm pods,” Del replied. “Along with the usual countermeasures one would expect.”

  “Cool,” Josh replied.

  “Shut up,” Marcus scolded. He looked at Del. “How the hell can you fit that much firepower on a tiny little racer?”

  “External mods,” Del explained.

  “Nice idea, kid,” Marcus agreed, “but we don’t have time to build pocket racers.”

  “You don’t have to,” Del explained. “We already have eight of them finished and twenty more in the works.”

  “You’re building attack fighters on a world that refuses to build offensive weapons for itself,” Marcus stated. “I’ll give you points for balls, kid. But I’ll have to subtract them again for being stupid.”

  “They could slide right into the bays without any modifications to the doors. All you need to do is install the mooring system inside the bays, and create a way to rearm and refuel them,” Del told him. “You’d have yourself an on-demand fighter escort.”

  “That would be awesome!” Josh insisted.