Ep.#13 - Return of the Corinari (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  “Sleep well, Captain,” the voice of his ship replied as it turned out the lights.

  * * *

  Jessica stood at the Aurora’s tactical station, just behind the command chair, studying the displays on her console. The lighting was set to its lowest workable level, and there were only two others on the bridge at the moment.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Cameron commented as she entered the bridge from the captain’s ready room and came up from behind Jessica. “What are you doing?”

  “Studying intel on Dusahn ships,” Jessica replied, “or should I say, Aurora is studying it. We’re trying to identify vulnerabilities, so I can set them as primary targeting points. That way, I can just tap a target, and Aurora will assign the appropriate weapons turret and handle the actual targeting.”

  “Did you run this past Nathan?” Cameron wondered.

  “He’s sleeping. I just thought of it an hour ago. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to keep up with everything, especially since you’re not going to be here to help me, and combat control has been taken out of the loop.”

  Cameron sighed. “Yeah, I hate the idea of not being here during a battle.”

  “Someone’s gotta be able to look at the big picture and keep everyone coordinated,” Jessica reminded her.

  “I suppose.” Cameron looked around the darkened bridge. “I still can’t get used to this.”

  Jessica looked up, glancing about. “The dim lighting?”

  “The lack of duty personnel,” Cameron corrected. “Too many empty seats.”

  “Aurora can respond to any surprises far faster than we mere humans can,” Jessica stated, her focus returning to her console displays. “All it takes is one duty officer to give her permission to act. Besides, the rest of the bridge staff could be here in just over a minute, if needed. But you know all of that.”

  “I do,” Cameron admitted. “It’s still difficult to get used to.” She sighed again. “I guess that’s the way life is under the command of Nathan Scott. Everything changes rapidly.”

  “And that bothers you?” Jessica wondered.

  “I wouldn’t say it bothers me,” Cameron insisted, “but it does make things more challenging.”

  “I like challenging,” Jessica replied with a smile.

  “We all do, otherwise we wouldn’t be here,” Cameron explained. “I guess I just got a little complacent over the years. Got accustomed to my routines. I had every system, every procedure, every protocol on this ship tuned to perfection.”

  “I thought the Aurora had a high turnover rate?” Jessica pointed out.

  “We did,” Cameron confirmed, “but that’s because we were so good at sharpening up newbs. Command would send us every boot-ensign straight out of the academy, and six months later most of them would leave as lieutenants, reassigned to the latest destroyer coming out of the Cetian shipyards. The academy cast them, and we ground off the rough edges and polished them up.”

  “You must’ve loved that,” Jessica chuckled. “All those drills.”

  “Oh, yes, we had a lot of them,” Cameron remembered. “There was an expression among junior officers all over the fleet. The Aurora was the post-graduate school. You weren’t really an officer until you were Taylored.”

  Jessica cast a glance Cameron’s way. “I guess it really shook things up when you absconded with the ship.”

  “Probably.”

  Jessica stopped studying her console, finally devoting her full attention to the conversation. “You ever regret it?”

  “I’d be lying if I said otherwise,” Cameron admitted. “Especially at moments like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Greatly outnumbered and outgunned, about to take on a superior force in half a dozen systems…all at the same time. Honestly, I can’t help but wonder how Nathan’s going to top this one.”

  “I think his plan is to avoid having to do so.”

  “You don’t think this plan is too ambitious?” Cameron asked.

  “Of course I do,” Jessica admitted. “But when has one of his plans not been too ambitious? That’s what he does.”

  “Yeah, but before, he always questioned his decisions. He was constantly plagued by self-doubt.”

  “That was a bad thing.”

  “Yes, but it also kept him in check; kept him from acting too impulsively.”

  “What you mean to say is that his self-doubt gave you the leverage you needed to exert some control over him.”

  “I’ve never had any control over Nathan Scott,” Cameron insisted.

  “Yes, you have,” Jessica insisted. “More than you know. Why do you think he called you for help?”

  “Because he needed this ship.”

  “No,” Jessica argued. “Well, partly, but mostly because he needed you. He knows that you’ll question every decision he makes. He knows that you’ll over-analyze everything and point out the flaws in his plans. More importantly, he knows he can trust you to be out there watching over his absurdly ambitious, multi-front engagements, keeping him from doing anything stupid.”

  “Like betting the entire ship?”

  “Yeah, that was pretty crazy,” Jessica admitted.

  “I still don’t understand why you let him do that.”

  “You should have seen the look in his eyes,” Jessica told her. “Complete confidence. I see that same look in the eyes of every Ghatazhak. It’s what I’m still trying to achieve. The eyes of Nathan Scott, master of self-doubt, was the last place I expected to see that look.”

  “That alone should have set off alarms, don’t you think?” Cameron said. “I mean, total confidence is not Nathan.”

  “That’s the thing,” Jessica explained. “He’s not Nathan anymore. At least he’s not the Nathan who surrendered to the Jung seven years ago.” Jessica chuckled. “Hell, Josh’s Conathan nickname for him is more accurate than we realize.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been training with him for months now,” Jessica told her. “I’ve seen the changes he has gone through. He is better now. His brain works better. He sees everything in a glance. He analyzes the situation and computes every possible outcome in the blink of an eye, and all with greater depth and clarity than any of us, including the Ghatazhak. Expect maybe Telles.”

  “So, you do believe the cloning process somehow improved him.”

  “You don’t?”

  “It’s just kind of hard to believe at times.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think it’s just the cloning process. I think his time as Connor has something to do with it as well. You still see the universe through the eyes of a Terran. You relate everything to life as a Terran.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Not as much as you,” Jessica insisted. “I’ve been on a lot more worlds than you have, running missions for the Ghatazhak for the last seven years. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. I’m saying that Nathan, as Connor Tuplo, engaged with dozens of civilizations and cultures. That gave him a much broader experience than any of us. Combine that with the training that he received at the academy and growing up in a powerful political family… Well, you get super Nathan. Or as Josh calls him, Conathan.”

  Cameron thought for a moment. “There is such a thing as overconfidence, you know.”

  “Yeah, Telles is constantly reminding me of that,” Jessica admitted.

  After sighing yet again, Cameron added, “I guess I just can’t get past the idea that he bet the entire ship.”

  “Doesn’t he do that every time he takes it into battle?”

  “I suppose,” Cameron admitted, “but it’s not the same. I guess I just miss the old Nathan.”

  “So do I,” Jessica assured her. “But I’d rather go into battle with the new on
e.”

  Cameron forced a smile. “I’m going to hit my rack,” she decided. “You should do the same.”

  “As soon as I finish this,” Jessica promised.

  Cameron smiled again, then turned and left the bridge.

  “Sir?” one of the bridge officers asked. “Can you watch the conn for a few minutes while we take a break?”

  Jessica glanced at the young lieutenant and the even younger ensign staring at him with stars in her eyes. “Sure,” she replied, fighting back a grin. “Just don’t take too long.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the lieutenant replied, after which the two of them departed.

  Jessica returned her attention to her displays.

  “Lieutenant Commander,” the ship’s AI began. “I apologize for eavesdropping, but I could not help overhearing your conversation with Captain Taylor. I hope that does not bother you.”

  “It does,” Jessica admitted, “but I suppose that’s the price of having an AI hooked into your ship.”

  “I can adjust my privacy mode and set my audio monitoring algorithms to only listen for key words and phrases, especially when you are speaking, if you prefer.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Jessica insisted. “I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, audio and video monitoring only takes place in public spaces, and the recordings are only accessible under command authority.”

  “So you’re not spying on me when I’m in my quarters, then,” Jessica joked.

  “Of course not,” Aurora insisted. “Unless I detect a problem.”

  “Such as?”

  “A life-threatening malfunction or condition, an explosive device, or an unauthorized weapon to name a few.”

  “Is there a point to this conversation?” Jessica wondered.

  “I thought you might like to know that I have analyzed every aspect of the upcoming engagement, and I find no evidence that Captain Scott is acting irrationally. If anything, he is thinking much like an AI.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The re-ball stadium on Orswella was bustling with activity. Brilliant floodlights made the pre-dawn light seem as bright as day as SilTek battle tanks rolled into the cargo pods, waiting to be ferried to the Glendanon by boxcars.

  Doran Montrose looked out across the re-ball field from the observation platform surrounding his command hut, watching his men as they prepared for departure. Even from this distance, he could feel their excitement and confidence. They were about to liberate their world. Many would die, but all would be heroes, remembered forever as saviors of Corinair.

  There was so much that Doran was grateful for on this morning. His family, his people…but as he looked upon his men, he couldn’t help but appreciate the way the SilTek engineers had managed to incorporate the overall feel of the Corinari uniform into the new combat armor his men now wore. Between it and the Corinari patches the men wore on their shoulders, the people of his home world would instantly know who was fighting the Dusahn on their behalf. Corinairans were a proud people, and many of them would pick up arms dropped by dead Dusahn soldiers and join in the fight. He wanted no Corinari deaths due to friendly fire. The battle would be chaotic enough without having to defend against those they were trying to liberate.

  His job, however, was far easier than that of the Ghatazhak. No Corinairans would ever side with a conqueror, regardless of any improvements that conqueror might bring. It simply wasn’t in the Corinairan mindset. He and his men would be welcomed as heroes.

  The Takaran people, however, were a different story. The Dusahn had improved conditions for their working class and eliminated all but four of the noble houses of Takara. Although they had seized the holdings of all those fallen houses, they had invested much of that capital back into the working classes, especially toward those who had suddenly found themselves without the protection of a noble house. This had gone a long way toward swaying Takara’s citizens in favor of Dusahn rule. The Ghatazhak were far more likely to encounter civilian resistance to their efforts, even though it was their own people. The true nature of the Ghatazhak had been lost decades ago, thanks to their use as brainwashed shock-troops under the rule of Caius Ta’Akar. For years prior to the arrival of the Dusahn, there had been rumors of a rogue band of Ghatazhak operating on the fringes of the Pentaurus cluster, but these were dismissed by most. To the people of Takara, the Ghatazhak were stone-cold killers with no regard for the welfare of civilians, even their fellow Takarans.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve seen the proud ranks of the Corinari,” Sergeant Major Crawley commented as he joined his friend at the rail.

  “I can’t stop thinking about how many of them won’t be seeing another sunrise,” Doran replied, watching the Orswellan sun as it began to spill out over the far mountains.

  “You can’t think that way, not if you’re going to lead them.”

  “I cannot help it.”

  Denton sighed. “Which is probably why you’re the right man for the job.”

  “Wait, you just said…”

  “Don’t listen to me,” Denton insisted. “I’m just an old Sergeant Major looking for one more chance at glory.”

  Doran smiled. “Did your men have enough time to get used to their tanks?”

  “Their tanks, yes. Their AIs, not so much.”

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Doran wondered.

  “I suspect they’ll start trusting them once the AIs save their asses a few times.”

  “At least they get to drive their own tanks,” Doran commented. “MI has to fall from orbit in pilotless Kalibris.”

  “Yeah, what drunk bobbet came up with that idea,” Denton said.

  “An AI,” Doran replied.

  “Figures,” Denton chuckled, turning to depart. “See you on Corinair, my friend.”

  * * *

  Commander Prechitt turned to study the large view screen on the wall behind him. “These computer-generated images were stitched together using scans obtained by the Corinairan resistance—at great risk, I might add.” He turned back toward the fifty Corinari pilots assembled before him in the makeshift briefing room aboard the Glendanon. “The Dusahn air defenses are quite heavy. Some might call them impenetrable. It’s our job to penetrate them. We’ll jump in fast and low, and at point-blank range. Those air defense batteries are completely automated, which means they can bring their guns to bear more quickly, and they can target you more accurately. You will have five seconds to jump in, get your target locks, launch your weapons, and pull up to jump clear. Those batteries are located in densely populated areas, so it is imperative that you have solid targeting locks before you release. I’m talking green boxes with good tones, people. No flickering squeaks. Those are our people down there.”

  “Can’t the resistance warn them?” Talisha asked.

  “Too risky,” the pilot next to her commented.

  “Any unusual movement patterns of the locals would alert the Dusahn that an attack was coming,” Commander Prechitt explained. “Hopefully, our people will head for shelter the moment the first explosions are heard.”

  “How are we going to take out the defenses for an entire planet with only fifty ships?” another pilot inquired.

  “We don’t have to,” the commander replied. “Only Aitkenna has the self-powered defense batteries. The rest of the cities are using batteries which draw power from either shared reactors or directly from the local grid. Take out the power source, and you take out multiple batteries at the same time. Besides, Aitkenna is the seat of Dusahn power. We seize Aitkenna, and the rest will fall. Word will go out, and the people in those cities will seek shelter for fear of becoming collateral damage. Once they do, we can take out the remaining defenses from orbit.”

  “What about their troops?” Tali
sha asked.

  “We’ve got eight hundred heavily armed Corinari and about one hundred battle tanks. They’ll be divided among Aitkenna, Crawford, and Becketts. Once those three cities are under our control, Kalibri airships will ferry our ground forces to other cities to deal with any remaining Dusahn ground forces.”

  “That’s going to take time,” Talisha commented.

  “Yes, it will. We are hoping that once Aitkenna falls, the Dusahn will evacuate their forces from other cities in order to defend Takara.”

  “I thought we were trying to liberate Takara as well,” Talisha said. “Isn’t that going to make it harder?”

  “Gunyoki will be handling intercept of evacuation ships from orbit, and once the air defense batteries are down, we’ll be targeting any evac ships as well,” the commander explained. He looked at the faces of his pilots, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Five seconds is a very tight action window. The first wave will do fine, but there are one hundred and eighteen self-powered defense batteries in Aitkenna alone. I would strongly recommend that you turn over launch control to your AIs and let them fire your weapons so that you can concentrate on flying and avoiding incoming fire.”

  “You want us to trust AIs to fire weapons into our own people?” one of the pilots questioned.

  “I know it rubs everyone the wrong way,” the commander admitted. “It doesn’t make me happy either. But doing so will protect our people. A half-second delay between obtaining a solid target lock and pressing the launch button is enough to get you killed. And no matter how steely eyed a pilot you are, that knowledge is enough to cause you to jump the gun and launch too early, or even worse, too late. Too early, and collateral damage goes up. Too late, you die, and our chances of liberating our homeworld go down. It’s a fucked-up situation, I admit. But it’s our job to deal with it. That’s what the Corinari do.” Commander Prechitt turned his gaze toward the pilot who had asked the question. “Is that understood?”

  “Hup, hup, hup, sir,” the pilot replied with a grin.

  “Hup, hup, hup,” the commander replied, pressing the button on the remote to call up the next image.