by CH Gideon
“I think we’ve gotten all we will from New Africa,” Jenkins agreed, having just completed a particularly smooth set of negotiations with one of New Africa’s provincial governors. The official had been kind enough to meet Jenkins near New Africa’s terminus gate rather than make him come all the way to the system’s interior. This was both courtesy and practical since New Africa’s myriad settlements were more scattered than all Terran colonies except Terra Ukranya.
It was Jenkins’ next stop, featured not a single habitable world but had such rich asteroid belts that every one of its citizens lived aboard a self-contained habitat module. He didn’t expect to get much in the way of vehicles from the Ukrainians, but he did hope to secure micro-factories and missiles from the famously independent people who called Terra Ukranya their home. Still, Terra Ukranya was the end of the line, which meant he was close to rejoining his people in Finjou space.
They were close enough to the wormhole that Oxblood was able to guide them through at non-hazardous speeds, meaning Jenkins didn’t have to get into his couch. Yet.
Unlike transit aboard the Bonhoeffer or another fully-crewed military vessel, where pre-gate checklists were loudly conducted for all to hear, traveling with Oxblood on the DC04 was unnervingly quiet. Jenkins watched the expert pilot match his approach vector and rotation to the wormhole gate’s settings, and everything looked right to Jenkins’ eye. But that didn’t make warping through a rip in the fabric of space-time itself easier to stomach.
They slipped toward the gate, and its blank event horizon was replaced by New Africa 2’s dedicated anchor point, which was a fairly typical Jovian planet with few moons and a powerful EM field.
“Contact bearing one-one-three carom six-five. Range, two hundred thousand kilometers,” Oxblood reported with surgical precision. “They’re squawking Terra Han Colonial Guard idents and requesting a comm link with one Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jenkins.”
Jenkins examined the DC04’s sensor panel, quickly finding the Terra Han-flagged ship’s profile and cocking his head in confusion.
“I’m not familiar with that design,” he said, feeling a growing sense of urgency, but the ship’s distance from the gate and foreknowledge that Jenkins would return through it suggested they were not hostile. And with Fourth Fleet standing guard at the wormhole situated on the other side of New Africa 2’s anchor gas giant, it seemed unlikely that the Terra Han ship would open fire on a courier known to be carrying a TAF lieutenant colonel.
“I don’t know it either,” Oxblood concurred, “and I know every Terran ship on the books. This one’s never been logged.”
“It looks new,” Jenkins mused as he examined the more obvious features of the mysterious ship’s profile. It was medium-sized for a warship, roughly a third the displacement of the Bonhoeffer, but it lacked external naval weaponry. It bore engines which were powerful but not exceptionally so, and Jenkins could see no fighter launch or retrieval systems, so it probably lacked a fighter escort. Its armor was exceptionally robust, however, and the strange warship likely featured a thicker hull than the Dietrich Bonhoeffer. But without armaments of its own, what was the point of a thick skin?
“All right,” Jenkins agreed, “accept the link.”
A few seconds later, a man’s face appeared on the screen. He was clearly of Asiatic descent, with a peculiarly ruddy complexion and fierce-looking eyebrows that matched an equally impressive well-groomed beard that stretched below the video pickup. He wore a black uniform with gray trim, consistent with Terra Han’s Colonial Guard. Proudly emblazoned over his left shoulder was the image of a bright red horse.
“Colonel Jenkins,” the man began in a tone that suggested absolute disdain, but of the kind Jenkins had come to learn usually indicated supreme confidence rather than contempt. “I am Captain Guan Jia of the Terra Han Colonial Guard vessel Red Hare. I am sending over my credentials, along with a message from my superiors. I will await your acknowledgment of these documents’ contents.”
The man stood still as a statue before the pickup while Jenkins perused the encrypted documents. It was awkward having the feed live while he read, but he didn’t dare cut the line and make the Red Hare contact him anew.
He scanned the man’s credentials, which were so impressive he had no idea how it was possible that Captain Guan was unknown to him. A veteran of nine separate engagements with the Arh’Kel, including the battle between Sixth Fleet and the Arh’Kel at Durgan’s Folly, he was young for a warship commander and came with the highest recommendations from the Terra Han military leadership.
“Have you ever heard of him?” Jenkins asked Oxblood while continuing to peruse the documents.
“I have,” Oxblood replied with a rare wary note in his voice. “He’s one of the best Terra Han has to offer. The only reason nobody knows about him is that that’s how Terra Han wants to keep it.”
Jenkins’ eyes narrowed when he came to an attached recording, which he opened to reveal Chairman Kong’s youthful, intense features.
“Colonel Jenkins,” Kong’s recording greeted him, “I trust my courier found you in good health. My government was impressed with your resolve, Colonel, and decided that in spite of your reluctance to agree to a more comprehensive arrangement, you are a man whose future nonetheless deserves a meaningful investment. Please join Captain Guan on his ship for further details.”
The brief message ended, leading Jenkins to wonder what exactly was going on. He had spurned their offer, and now they were running after him with another one? Such conduct was far from usual for the shot-callers of Terra Han’s society, which meant that in spite of the associated danger, he had no choice in the matter.
“Let’s dock with them,” Jenkins decided. “I want to see what they have to offer.”
“Strap in for some hard gees,” Oxblood replied. “We’re about to find out how much you can take.”
As it turned out, six and a half gees were about all Jenkins could manage without blacking out, but with the Red Hare moving to intercept, the rendezvous took place less than an hour later.
“Colonel Jenkins.” Captain Guan Jia met him at the airlock, and Jenkins was impressed not only by the length of the man’s beard, which stretched down past his waist but also that he would be permitted to wear it in that fashion aboard a military vessel. “Welcome aboard the Red Hare.”
“Named for the mythical steed of Lu Bu and later Guan Yu.” Jenkins nodded as he set foot aboard the dimly-lit ship. It was more cramped than the Bonhoeffer or any other Terran warship he had been aboard, but for some reason, it felt comfortable in spite of the relatively small interior dimensions.
“You know your literature.” Captain Guan smiled, although the expression never quite reached his eyes as he gestured down the corridor and led Jenkins toward the ship’s interior. “Names are powerful things, Colonel. They define us in meaningful ways. My family name has much history, and that history shaped parts of my childhood, which in turn molded who I am today.”
As they walked, Jenkins took note of a particular female crewman who squeezed past him. Her face, physique, and the way she moved were all familiar to him, and it took him several seconds to realize just how badly he had misunderstood Chairman Kong’s subtle message back on Terra Han.
“How many crew are under your command, Captain Guan?” Jenkins asked.
“An impertinent question,” Guan chided, “but a relevant one which deserves an answer. The Red Hare has a crew of ninety-four, sixty-six of whom see to the ship’s ongoing operations while the rest serve as support staff.”
Jenkins suspected he knew what those twenty-eight crewmen supported, but he decided to let the tour play out on Guan’s terms as they snaked through low-ceilinged sub-passages before finally arriving at a recognizable if unfamiliar chamber which opened up before them.
What Jenkins saw in that chamber was precisely what he had expected to see after recognizing the woman in the corridor.
“Colonel Jenkins, please.” Captain Guan
gestured with an outstretched hand at a drop-deck that currently housed a trio of mechs identical in every respect to those he had inspected with Major Brighton. The major was nowhere to be seen, though, and in his stead was a captain of diminutive stature whose eyes were as sharp as razors as they rose to meet Jenkins’ gaze.
Jenkins immediately recognized the young man, whose name was Chao Yun. He had seen extensive deployment with the Terran Fleet a year earlier when the Arh’Kel had destroyed crucial military infrastructure in a surprise offensive. Chao’s work in a gunship cockpit had saved thousands of lives before he had finally been shot down. Much to everyone’s surprise, he had survived the ordeal and received an honorable discharge from Republican military service in reward for his efforts.
The discharge was in accordance with Chao’s wishes, although it went very much against the wishes of Chao’s estranged father—a man Lee Jenkins had recently encountered under less-than-congenial circumstances.
“Captain Chao,” Jenkins greeted him, noticing the three-leafed clover emblem on Chao’s shoulder in the same place Guan’s uniform sported the Red Hare’s emblem.
“Colonel Jenkins,” Chao replied. “It’s an honor, sir.”
Guan stepped forward. “Captain Chao is the CO of Clover Battalion, which unfortunately is not yet complete and features just two full companies of the Razorback Mark 2-V-class mechs.”
“Apologies, Colonel.” Chao bowed his head deeply.
“Razorback Mark 2-V?” Jenkins cocked his head uncertainly, recalling that the Razorback Mark 2 was the type of vehicle he had inspected with Major Brighton on Terra Han. The Mark 2 was an update of Roy’s design, but Jenkins knew nothing about a 2-V variant.
“These vehicles feature Vorr technology integrated directly into several key systems,” Guan explained, casually dropping an unexpected bomb into the middle of the conversation which caused Jenkins’ mind to spin with the repercussions of what it meant. “Unlike the Mark 2s, these platforms are not only capable of resisting Jemmin takeovers like those that plagued you on Shiva’s Wrath, but are also capable of submersion to depths up to five hundred meters at Earth-standard pressure.”
“There are additional recoil-dampening systems built into these vehicles, sir,” Chao interjected, gesturing to the cleverly-concealed mimetic gel pads which lined the nearest mech’s chassis joints.
Jenkins had to pause and process what they had just said. These men not only knew about Vorr tech being integrated into their systems, but they also knew operational details from Shiva’s Wrath. It seemed that Chairman Kong’s sources, whoever they were, had been far better informed than Jenkins had thought.
“All right,” Jenkins said eventually, “what does Terra Han want in exchange?”
Chao snickered, and Guan gave a hearty laugh before replying, “You do not understand. This ship, its cargo, and even its crew do not officially exist.”
“A gift without value cannot be recognized, nor its loss be mourned,” Chao agreed knowingly.
“Wait…” Jenkins glanced at the mechs. “A gift?”
“General Zhang, High Commander of the Terra Han Colonial Guard,” Captain Guan explained, “wished me to convey the following message in the hope it would alleviate your confusion. He said, ‘A man with influence and no merit offends all under Heaven. A man with merit and no influence offends Heaven itself.’”
Jenkins had heard that particular phrase in his formal training. It originated from a mid-twenty-second-century writer from Terra Han and was among the more memorable passages he could recall. He nodded, completing the passage. “Better to offend those under Heaven than to incur Heaven’s wrath.”
“You know your literature,” Guan said approvingly before both he and Captain Chao made the traditional two-handed salute of the Terra Han Colonial Guard. “Colonel Jenkins, in accordance with the will of our government, we officially submit this vessel, its contents, and its crew to the Terran Armor Corps under your command.”
Jenkins nodded in reply, uncertain how one accepted such a gesture. Eventually, he returned the salute in the style of the Metal Legion and said, “I recognize your submission and will bring it to the attention of my superiors.” He flashed a grin and added, “I guess this means my recruiting drive is over.”
“What course shall we set, Colonel?” Captain Guan asked after standing at ease.
“Finjou space, to a star system we refer to as ‘the Brickyard,’” Jenkins replied, thrilled that his bureaucratic efforts appeared to have finally come to an end…for now. “It’s time to join the fight.”
11
Surrounded and Outnumbered
The Finjou forces made planetfall at 10:14 according to the Bonhoeffer’s main clock, which was synchronized to Earth, as had been tradition for Terran Armed Forces for over two hundred years.
By 10:33, they had deployed 294 vehicles to the planet’s surface, with an estimated half as many aerial vehicles put down and prepped for launch.
At 10:39, they had engaged a half-dozen colonial fortresses similar to the one Xi’s people had uprooted in the Legion’s first fight on the Brick.
By 10:49, the Finjou had scrubbed all six facilities from the board with combined land, air, and orbital fire.
Even though it meant the Finjou would have a clearer path to Xi and her people, the Metal Legion’s acting CO couldn’t help but admire their efficiency. The colonists, somewhat surprisingly, failed to author a significant counterattack to the Finjou forces and seemed more or less content to let them do as they please.
“I thought the Finjou said they were giving the colonists thirty-one hours?” Ford growled over the command line. “It’s only been seven!”
“Reread the book, my man,” Eclipse’s Jock chided. “Any permanent military installations, automated or otherwise, which are unlawfully established within a sovereign nation’s territory are considered clear and present dangers to that nation and may be dealt with according to said nation’s preferences. It’s right there on the front page of the Illumination League’s charter.”
Ford growled, “They could be killing Terrans while we’re sitting here discussing chapter and verse of the IL’s codex. Doesn’t that bother anyone else?”
“Of course, it does,” Winters piped in. “We came here to evacuate these colonists, not kill them, which was why the captain called down the nuke. The whole point was to put the brakes on the firefight, and at this point, it’s pretty obvious she succeeded.”
As Xi listened in, she knew what she had to do. “Sargon,” she called, “see if you can establish a secure encrypted line to the colonists.”
Eclipse’s Jock belatedly replied, “Come again, Captain?”
“I need a secure line to the colonists,” Xi reiterated, “and since you’ve got the best comm suite in that filthy bucket you call home, I need you to set it up. Yesterday,” she finished urgently.
“Copy that, Captain,” he acknowledged. “Give me a few minutes to see if I can triangulate on their transceivers. The Finjou tore most of them down, along with the colonists’ comm satellites, but I might…” His voice trailed into silence, which lasted several seconds before he declared, “There we are. I’ve found a nearby transceiver, but it’s three thousand kilometers from here, so we’ll need a relay bird for the P2P. Even then, there’s no guarantee they’ll accept the link.”
“You let me worry about that,” she said tersely, feeling strangely haunted by Ford’s suggestion that Terrans (even rebels like these colonists, who had already killed dozens of her people) might be dying at the hands of the Finjou.
“You’ve got it, Captain,” Sargon acknowledged. “Sending a bird up now.”
A rocket-driven comm relay soared skyward, and Xi quickly locked onto it with Elvira’s P2P transceiver. The relay could be deployed as far as two hundred kilometers above the surface before it began to fall, but Xi didn’t need this one to go anywhere near that high or stay aloft for too long.
She suspected it wouldn’t be up ther
e for very long, so she needed to make her opening transmission good.
The relay’s motor cut out at an altitude of twenty kilometers, and the platform used its remaining fuel to stabilize its position and slow its descent.
“Link established, Captain,” Sargon reported.
“This is Captain Xi Bao of the Terran Armor Corps with a message for Mr. DuPont and the Terran colonists still on this planet,” Xi began as Finjou active scanners pinged the relay drone. “The DuPont name has a long, proud history stretching back to the American Revolutionary War. As recently as the mid-twenty-first century, a Franco Admiral bearing that name and its tradition stood tall against Chinese and Indian forces when they invaded his home country of France. His bravery and leadership saved thousands of lives,” she continued quickly as a target lock alarm dinged on her HUD and hurried through the last words. “I hope that his bravery will be matched here by his descendants.”
The comm relay was destroyed by laser fire from one of the Talon-class warships in orbit a second after Xi’s last words. She leaned back in her chair, hoping she had made herself clear without giving away the game.
“Do you think he knows his history?” Gordon asked.
“With a name like that?” Xi replied confidently. “He’d better.”
Two hours later, Xi received a call from one of Trapper’s teams stationed in a self-contained turret on the edge of Dragon Brigade’s main base camp. She had hoped for and even expected the call, so when it arrived, she instructed Trapper to have his people secure the package and escort it to her mech.
Fifteen minutes after receiving the alert, there was a knock on Elvira’s hatch, which Xi went to open. Standing outside in the temporary airlock sealed to Elvira’s hull and flanked by a quartet of Trapper’s troopers was a man wearing a high-end envirosuit of non-Terran design. The suit had been manufactured by Solarians, and that its wearer would openly reveal as much was quite the statement on his part.