by Kal Spriggs
***
Chapter 11
Time: 1700 17 February 292 G.D.
Location: Deep Space, Harmony Protectorate Space
Admiral Mizra's eyes narrowed as he monitored the enemy course changes. On the face of it, it looked like they were going to try to brave his interceptor screen. There was a chance that the battlecruiser could evade most of those fighters and destroy whatever managed to intercept.
More likely, however, the battlecruiser would attempt a radical course change, right before the fighters went into their final attack. The obvious path was back towards one of his formations, which was why he'd positioned his fighter screen as he had, to drive the enemy back towards him.
No, they couldn't be stupid enough to do that. Even if they went for his allies, his forces would be able to pincer them. This must be a ruse, to lure his forces in for a pincer move while they'd try to break up or down. Downwards, since that gives them the widest arc.
He ran calculations on how long it would take for the enemy ship to see his forces movements. It would be best if he left it until the very last instant. Timing is everything.
“Orders to units, enemy ship will break at vector three five two,” Admiral Mizra began, “Task Force Aggressor, break downwards on vector two six seven. Task Force Interceptor, break to vector three five six.” It would take precious seconds for his transmissions to reach both forces and Admiral Mizra counted off the seconds. “Orders to Task Force Core, break to vector six three five on my mark.”
“Shift vector,” he snapped. I have you now...
***
Fenris had understood Mel's plan and he'd even considered it, but it brought too many random factors for him to feel comfortable with suggesting it. He could go along with it, but that weight, the weight of responsibility, was hers.
Because this was a basic move, one that had many counters. The enemy formation that they headed for could shift in those final few seconds. Their apparent disorder could be a ruse. The other enemy formations might anticipate their maneuver and intercept them.
Fenris had come to realize, however, that one thing that Mel did better than anyone on the crew, better, even, than himself, was to come to a decision based upon even limited information. That was why she commanded the ship. There was a term, an ancient human phrase, “Paralysis through Analysis.” It was an attribute in which a commander or staff sought every greater, ever more detailed information to come to a decision, and in the process, they never reached one. Fenris could analyze more information in a few seconds than any dozen of humans could in several hours, yet he was just as vulnerable to that downfall, if not more so. He had already run through dozens, hundreds of simulations of this set of maneuvers, and thousands of other permutations as well. Yet he hadn't been certain which course to take.
Mel had made the decision. She'd made it without the benefit of running through the various simulations. She'd given the order based off of gut instinct and intuition. Fenris trusted her in that. Because sometimes, even a bad order at the right time was better than no orders at all.
They flashed across the distance at relative speeds so fast that even Fenris could barely register the passage. Fenris corkscrewed upwards, vectored to pass the upper side of the enemy formation, even as he opened fire with four warp missiles aimed at the center of the enemy.
At this range, those missiles launched and engaged so fast that the enemy ships didn't have time to engage them or even effectively dodge. If the formation had been conducting an evasive pattern, there was a good chance they would have missed. But they weren't, the ships had come in at almost a straight line.
Three of those four warp missiles struck true, their matter-antimatter warheads detonating against the ship's warp fields, just as the enemy formation devolved into chaos. Ships spun out of the formation, several of them passed dangerously close, their drives flaring.
Fenris flashed past the confusion, the multi-megaton battlecruiser slicing past without the enemy even firing a shot in reply. Had they been better coordinated, they could have reversed course and pursued, extending the engagement time by a few seconds, giving them time to acquire and fire on him, but they didn't.
Fenris accelerated into open space, his pursuers left behind.
***
“We're in the clear,” Fenris announced.
Mel let out a tense breath. She'd followed their course as much as she'd been able. The course adjustments and corrections had followed too quickly for her brain to process. Fenris had the ability to comprehend changes in data far faster than her and react before her brain could even process the changes.
“Time until strategic warp?” Mel asked.
“Seven minutes,” Fenris said. “What course should I make?”
“Back to Harmony, of course,” Marcus said.
“No,” Mel shook her head. “It's the obvious destination. They could follow us back and engage the Peacekeeper Task Force without warning.”
“At least then we'd have some backup,” Marcus scowled.
“Two dreadnoughts, with their escorts, coming in at close range and without warning?” Mel stared at him, “They'd destroy most of the other mercenaries before they even knew they were engaged.” She didn't know why the enemy commander hadn't yet, as it was. She certainly didn't want to give him a reason to do so. “No, we have to go somewhere else... somewhere we can post a warning...”
She brought up her star charts and contemplated them for a long moment. They were between Harmony and Vagyr, a band of uninhabited or marginally inhabited systems, there weren't any colonies worth mentioning...
There, she thought. “There's a Guard Fleet Courier station at Tremaine,” She brought the system up on the display. “There may not be a large presence there, but they'll have a destroyer or corvette at the least, plus some static defenses.”
“That's not going to stop a force like this,” Marcus sneered.
“It won't need to,” Johnny noted. The big, former Marine spoke thoughtfully, “These guys are going to hesitate to engage any Guard Fleet assets. We're one thing, as mercenaries, but a Guard outpost? If there's any survivors, you can bet your ass Guard Fleet will come after them.”
“The same holds for the Peacekeeper force,” Marcus said. “They're employed by the Guard--”
“Not the same at all,” Mel dismissed that argument. “They're a mercenary force, and as we've already seen, the Guard aren't really all that excited about the potential results of the election there. They might just accept Harmony going back to the way it was, especially if they had ties to the former government.”
“This is a bad idea,” Marcus protested. “If they follow us...”
“I want them to follow us,” Mel snapped. “Because if they decide to go to Harmony, that's game over for a whole lot of innocent people.”
“As a mercenary, I'm a bit offended by you calling fellow mercenaries innocent,” Brian protested.
“I wasn't talking about you,” Mel snapped. “The Centurions and Hammer Squadron are both elements of their planetary militias. They're not in it for the money, most of their profits go back to their home systems.” Her fists clenched as she thought about what would happen to the thousands of men and women on those ships. Attacked without warning by such a powerful force? It would be a slaughter.
“Ah...” Marcus's eyes narrowed, “So that's what this is about... look, Mel, you need to think about what's best for us. This is a whole fleet we're talking about, here. They're going to--”
“Mel,” Fenris interrupted, “we have an incoming message.”
“On screen,” Mel felt absurdly grateful for the interruption. She knew this wasn't an argument anymore, this was Marcus refusing to see the big picture. He was too focused, to unwilling to compromise. He needs to go, she thought.
A man appeared on the screen. He had a neatly trimmed beard and blue-green eyes, on a tan, almost, nut-brown face. “Captain, well done. I must say, I'm impressed.” Fenris brought up a file on the si
de of the screen, this was Admiral Mizra, the commander of the renegade Harmony forces.
Mel checked the transmission, it came from the nearest of the two dreadnoughts. That made for almost a thirty second delay. “Thank you, Admiral Mizra. Though I might appreciate that praise a bit more if you hadn't just tried to kill us.”
She waited out the delay, even as she plotted the course to Tremaine and ran it past Fenris. The two dreadnoughts were still in pursuit, along with the rest of the enemy forces, but only the dreadnoughts and the fighters had the speed to overhaul them, and they were far enough back that Fenris would be able to jump to FTL warp before they'd be a threat.
“A complement from an enemy is the best kind, you know I have no ulterior motive,” Admiral Mizra gave a cold smile. “Now a friendly bit of warning. The man you have aboard your ship is a traitor and a murderer. I will follow you wherever you go. I will kill him. Save yourself the pain. Turn him over now and I'll let you all go.”
“Not going to happen,” Mel snapped. “Even aside from the fact that I have a contract to protect him, I'm not going to turn him over to be murdered on just your say-so.”
She waited, watching the countdown. They'd only get a couple more exchanges before Fenris could jump. She fought the urge to chew on her lip. She couldn't afford to show any signs of anxiety.
“The man on your ship had my brother, my wife, and my brother's two sons executed,” Admiral Mizra snapped. “He's responsible for the deaths of dozens of my close friends and he had my children placed into 'protective custody' to be raised by people loyal to him. Understand me, Captain Amiss. I know who you are, I will track you, I will find you, and I will have Nashim Rao. There is nowhere you can go that will be safe.”
Mel watched the countdown timer drop to zero. “Come and get me,” Mel said just before they jumped.
***
Chapter 12
Time: 0400 21 February 292 G.D.
Location: Tremaine Station, Tremaine System
Punatra tried to still his impatience as he reviewed the sensor data from all of his vessels. Not having the patrol routes for the Tenacity, or what he was certain was the Fenris, he’d had to send his assembled force in a broad net to search for the vessel.
None of his vessels had reported contact with the battlecruiser. They had sensor contacts for dozens of vessels, including what he suspected were numerous rogue elements of the Harmony Protectorate Defense Force, but there’d been no sightings of any vessels of battlecruiser size, much less the ship he’d been seeking.
He had ordered his various ships to assemble here at Tremaine Station to regroup after the initial search, but it increasingly looked as if he would have to order them back out again. Punatra wasn’t entirely familiar with warp drive vessels, but he had chosen to review the sensor feeds himself, mostly because he didn’t fully trust his suborned officers to have the initiative and higher level thinking skills to identify things as accurately as they might have if they weren’t implanted with hydati worms.
Punatra sat back, his attention wavering as he considered what truly bothered him. The agent back on Harmony. Whoever he was, he had known about his people. He had used the name, Chandral. It was a name that none of the apru should have ever heard. He taunted me. The thought ate at Punatra, like an acid, like a hydati burrowing through his brain. The filthy, inferior little…
“Lord Punatra,” one of his bodyguards asked, “are you well?”
Punatra blinked and looked up. He realized that he had crushed the datapad in his hands, entirely without realizing it. He looked down at the splinters of plastic and glass. Such an ugly, unclean device. Still without the full assets of his people, he would need a replacement one. “Take this,” he snapped at the bodyguard, holding it out, “dispose of it. The data was not to my liking.”
“Of course, my lord,” the soldat bodyguard gave a slight nod. He was intelligent enough, and of a high enough caste, that he did not question his master’s response out loud, though he might make note of it.
He may well report it back to the Heirarchs, Punatra reminded himself. For the soldat were loyal to the Heirarchs… and Punatra was not yet among their number. Even should he bring the entirety of Guard Space into the fold, that was not guaranteed to him. Only if he proved that he was capable and emotionally and mentally stable, would they approve his ascendance.
I will have to remove him, PUnatra thought as the bodyguard stepped out of the room. Any kind of report of distraction or instability could destroy Punatra’s future. He would likely send the bodyguard on an assassination mission, one with a low likelihood of success.
That problem at least had a solution. But how to find and track down this mysterious agent who knew things that he shouldn’t? How to find the Fenris and get access to Admiral Rao, to find out the truth of this Jormungandr’s Venom?
These were questions that for the first time in Punatra’s life, he began to wonder if he was as all-knowing and intelligent as he had thought.
***
Mel couldn’t help but breathe a slight sigh of relief as Fenris emerged into the Tremaine system.
“Range to station?” She asked.
“Five million kilometers,” he answered. They’d come here at full speed, which meant that even if their attackers had followed them, they should have enough time to get within the courier station’s perimeter before Admiral Mizra’s vessels arrived.
“Scanning the area now,” Fenris reported. “I’m picking up numerous drives. It appears that there is a Guard Fleet patrol present.”
“That’s great news,” Mel smiled. The more ships present, the more that Admiral Mizra would hesitate to attack. “Hail the station. Let them know that we’re on a Guard-sanctioned mercenary operation and that we may have hostiles in pursuit.”
“Done,” Fenris reported a moment later. “There seems to be some confusion. The courier station and the Task Force are both hailing us. I’m managing the Task Force with one of my alts.”
“Understood,” Mel told him. Fenris had realized that it might seem odd for a normal human to be talking to two different people at the same time. Thus while he had his default “Stern Wolfsson” digital appearance that he used to talk, he had several “alt” personalities that he could put on when talking to two or more authorities.
“Currently the station has authorized us for close approach and they’re pushing one of their courier vessels out as a precaution,” Fenris growled. Mel noted that he hadn’t mentioned the reasoning behind that precaution. If Admiral Mizra decided to risk an attack, that destroyer would be sitting at long range with its FTL drive online and it would depart with sensor logs of what had happened, so Guard Fleet would know who had blown up their station. Mel didn’t want her crew thinking about what would happen to them if that was the case.
“Let me know if anything changes,” Mel told him. She sat back in her command chair, her gaze going to their long-range sensors, wondering if Admiral Mizra was on the way.
***
Punatra’s desk display chimed and he barely restrained himself from smashing the infernal machine. Instead, he answered it. “I instructed you not to disturb me unless there was a critical event.”
The ship’s nominal captain stared at him with dead, disinterested eyes. That was the unfortunate thing about those infected by hydati worms, they lose the ability to fear their superiors. “My lord, we’ve located the target vessel,” Captain Ortega reported.
“What?” Punatra stared at him, feeling shock. “How? I ordered all our ships to rendezvous here.” He had thought they had all reported in already. “When can we depart, how distant is the vessel? Make ready for our departure.”
Captain Ortega had to pause to consider those questions. The parasite that had made him a loyal servant had removed his critical thinking skills and Punatra restrained a sigh as the formerly moderately intelligent officer took what felt like an eternity to consider the two simple questions. “We will be ready to depart within thirty minutes,
my lord.” Captain Ortega answered his questions in the order he had received them. “The ship just arrived here at Tremaine Station. I will ready the Task Group for departure.”
Punatra gritted his teeth, “Ignore that order.” The hydati parasite, while useful for suborning those in leadership positions, did have its drawbacks. “I’m coming to the bridge. I want you to be ready to repeat every word I tell you.”
Punatra cut the connection before his subordinate could respond. How he hated working among the apru with their inferior ways and technologies. One day soon he could dispense with the pretentions, to approach them as he really was.
The arrival of the Fenris brought that day closer. He considered his plan as he dressed and stepped out of his quarters, two of his soldat bodyguards falling into step behind him. He would have to handle this carefully.
***
“Captain Amiss,” the officer at the far end of the connection spoke, “I’m Captain Ortega of the GFPS Pathfinder. I’ve read your update on the renegade forces from the Harmony Protectorate. With their actions and pursuit of Admiral Rao, I feel that it would be safest if you transferred him to my vessel.”
Mel’s expression stiffened as she listened to the man. Fenris had warned her that the Guard Task Group Commander had wanted to talk to her. She’d half expected something like this, but she thought it was a bit brazen. She also didn’t miss that his vessel, the Pathfinder, was Guard Fleet Parisian Sector, which meant he was far outside his normal area of operations.
“I’m afraid, Captain, that I must politely decline,” Mel told him. “Admiral Nashim Rao was assigned to my care. I find it interesting that you even knew he was aboard, seeing as that was not included in my report.”
