by Rob Howell
“My kin, it seems that when we next work with the Zuparti, we shouldn’t expect them to understand the Great Hunter’s call for alertness.”
The bridge crew laughed heartily.
“Sir, the Human destroyers are swinging around the world. They’re launching shuttles, dropships, and drop pods.”
“Excellent. Projected drop location?”
“Their former base.”
“In that case, they’re surely doomed. Do you doubt that Tahnerif will deal with them shortly? He is, after all, a skilled hunter.”
“He is,” agreed Shilrasha. “But so are the Humans.”
“What have you seen, Mar’shin?”
“This Human freighter. The Cabot. She’s launching shuttles too.”
“Ah. Three assaults, all coming from different vectors. Very well done. Tahnerif will have a worthwhile fight after all.”
The Zuul bridge crew intently watched the assault.
“Sir—”
“I see it, Shilrasha. Most of their shuttles aren’t heading for the base. Keep track of their paths.”
“As you command, Kal’shin. It looks like they’re going to land about here.” The Jeria delta appeared on the screen.
“What are they doing there, I wonder?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“What are those tanks?”
Shilrasha went through the database. “It looks like a petrochemical refinery.”
“Do they have dropship fuel there?”
“I don’t think so, sir, but I’ll access the planetary database.”
“Does their powered armor have the endurance to march that far?”
Shilrasha checked. “Yes, though it would push it. However, they launched more shuttles than we thought they had. Maybe they carry extra power modules for the armor.”
“Maybe.” Tahzhent tapped his armrest. “I wonder what they’re thinking. It looks to be a mistake, but they planned this hunt too well for that to be the case.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s nothing we can change, and we’ll know the success of the Human hunt soon. Keep gathering data, my brother.” Tahzhent turned to his helmsman. “However, it’s time for us to fulfill the destiny assigned to us by the Great Hunter. Accelerate at one-third G toward the first Forester destroyer. By the terms of our contract, we have to help the remaining Zuparti. Let no one doubt we fulfilled those terms.”
The bridge crew howled as the Starstrider went into battle.
* * * * *
Chapter 35 – Capt. Eric Gonzalez
EMS Algonquin
Maquon Orbitals
“Now that we’ve dispensed with the land grunts, how are things up here, Guns?”
“The initial barrage completely destroyed four of the Zuparti freighters and damaged two.”
“We got hits on all six we aimed at?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And we didn’t hit any non-combatant traffic?”
“Doesn’t look it.”
“Nearest we got to the exosphere with a missile?”
“50,000 klicks.”
Gonzalez blew out his breath. “Damn, that’s better than we could’ve hoped. The Peacemakers might say something stern to us, but we won’t be sent out an airlock like MacKenzie.”
Wainwright glanced at him wanly. “Thank goodness.”
“Sir!”
“Yes, Williams?”
“I have a new bogey, and I think it’s the Type Two.” The tactical plot updated with the new icon. “Still working on a firm identification, but it matches the profile.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected.”
“Also, sir, there’s another Zuparti freighter in-system. We just cross-referenced it. I think it’s the one we weren’t sure about, the one that’s been in and out.” Another icon appeared.
“Murphy’s Law in action, I see. Has the freighter at the space station separated yet?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s something, at least.” Gonzalez studied the plot. “Helm, make our course 060 by 045 at three Gs. We need to get back to the high ground.” He pressed a button. “Attention all hands, prepare for high-G maneuvers.”
“We’ll be obvious at three Gs. No way the Type Two will miss us,” interjected Wainwright.
“We just blasted through Maquon’s orbitals and dropped a company of Foresters. I think it’ll be a while before we can disappear. Might as well generate some speed if they’re going to see us anyway.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Course laid in.”
“Commence.”
The force of two extra Gs pressed them back into their chairs as the Algonquin accelerated over the ecliptic and out of the orbital area.
Gonzalez continued to stare at the plot. “Looks like Christopher is going after the new freighter.”
“His attack vector on the planet was mostly in that direction. Just a slight change of course.”
“Agreed.”
“One of the damaged Zuparti freighters is boosting toward the stargate. It looks like we got a chunk of her engines, given her acceleration.”
“I see it. Let her go. The freighter that was resupplying at the space station hasn’t started maneuvering yet.”
“However, it looks like the freighter that was only mildly damaged is moving to cover the orbit over Jeriasker. She may have dropships that can block Edmonds’ attack.”
“We could go back and distract her,” suggested Wainwright.
“We could, but we’ll let Garrison deal with him, if she wants to. I want to focus on the Type Two instead of the remaining freighters.”
“Are you sure? Garrison’s a civvie. Like as not she’ll sit this one out.”
“Like as not, but we’ve got two foes, and the Type Two is the more dangerous one.”
“I don’t agree, sir. This might be the Type Two that warned us, and she might be on our side.”
“I doubt it. My bet is their captain is playing a different game than the Zuparti, but not one that is good for us. We only have ten missiles left. I have no doubt we can elude the Zuparti freighters if we need to, but that Type Two will be faster and nimbler than us. I don’t want to waste missiles on something we can avoid.”
“I see your point, sir, but we still have to cover the orbitals.”
“Be a lot easier to cover the orbitals without the Type Two around, assuming we can beat her.” Gonzalez shrugged. “Plus, I’ll bet Garrison can deal with the Zuparti freighters if they attack her or she decides to fight. I don’t know if she can beat the Zuul.”
“Good point. We’ve still got too much in the Cabot’s holds.” Wainwright glanced at the plot. “But that Type Two is a tough customer. I don’t know that we can beat her without the Huron to help, especially since we know each other’s locations. No chance of an ambush.”
Gonzalez drummed his fingers on the armrest. “What’s our goal?”
“To beat the Type Two.”
“Not really, it’s to keep her from getting involved in the battle for Maquon’s orbitals. We don’t have to destroy her, though that would be nice. We have to harass her. Drive her away if possible. Damage her if possible. If we can keep her attention, the Cabot is safe, and Christopher can deal with the remaining freighters.”
Wainwright considered that. “Won’t be easy.”
“We’ve got four drones left, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll make use of them.” Gonzalez glanced at the plot. “Helm, cut accel and bring us around. Make our heading 300 by 240. Once we’ve made our turn, give me two Gs acceleration. That should put us on the near side of Maquon’s moon from the Type Two.”
“Unless she accelerates.”
“Unless that.” Gonzalez’s lips twisted. “That captain’s cagey. He warned us when he didn’t have to. He only came back to help the Zuparti after the missiles struck. I don’t know if he was watching us the whole time, but he reacted quickly once the missiles hit.”
&nb
sp; “Why would he let the missiles hit the Zuparti? He had to be surprised, too. And where has he been all this time? This is the first time we’ve seen him since he warned us.”
“Why did he warn us? I’ll bet his sensors are newer and better, and if he kept tabs on us, it would’ve been easy to continue watching us.”
“True.”
“It doesn’t matter now; he knows where we are.”
“That’s also true, sir.”
“Course laid in,” said the helmsman.
“Execute.” Gonzalez highlighted a point. “Guns, program a drone. I want to aim it at this spot in space. Keep updating that course as I don’t know exactly when I’ll launch it. However, once it reaches that point, I want it to curve around Maquon’s moon.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Let’s place a seed of doubt in the Type Two’s captain. We’ll come at her from both sides and maybe slow the captain’s decision to fire.”
* * * * *
Chapter 36 – Rick Blaine
ECS Cabot
Maquon Orbitals
“Sleep is for the weak! Next week!” Garrison laughed, leaned in the doorway, and gave me a stim shot.
She was right. I hadn’t slept for over a day, so I took the shot and returned to my sweeper.
“Them Zuparti ain’t so pleased with us. Y’all realize that? What with them shuttles and dropships coming outta my holds, and you fuckin’ with their eyes, they’re sendin’ me a whole slew of complaints and threats.”
“And your response?” I said, not looking at her.
“‘Bring it, bitches!’ ’Ceptin’ I wasn’t so polite.”
“I don’t have a complete inventory of their armament, but they’re pretty loaded down for merchies.”
“So are we, laddie.” Garrison laughed. “I ain’t had this much fun in years. Keep at it, me boy. You’ll know I’m worried if we start boosting for the stargate.”
I chuckled and continued playing with the active emissions of the freighter sliding over Jeriasker. Throughout the exercise, I kept cursing myself.
You damn well should’ve pulled the Zuparti protocol library when you left the office. Idiot!
Fortunately, Zuparti security wasn’t as difficult to penetrate as Zuul, if only because they based several of their protocols on standard Galactic Union protocols, unlike the Zuul, who built their security from scratch.
My sweeper was recording all the active emissions from the surface. Other than that, I ignored the Zuul for the moment. Leb Pelham, the man whose domain I currently occupied, was keeping track of events.
The EW techs on the Zuparti ship weren’t top notch, but they were far more skilled than those normally found on merchies. My sweeper blinked as they sent a blunt force assault against it. However, the sweeper had been designed to handle such attacks, and it compartmentalized it automatically, never losing its connection with the Zuparti systems.
I was gaining traction, but if the Zuparti were paying attention to the dropship and shuttles, they would catch enough glimpses to see where they landed.
If I could only stop them from seeing where the Foresters were going next.
“Damn.”
I glanced over. Garrison’s EW tech was as good as she promised, but he hadn’t slept in more than a day either.
“What you got, Pelham?”
“The Zuul have launched some dropships from the base.”
“Figures. Here’s hoping the Foresters got some of their dropships refueled.”
“Looks like it, sir. I see four engine plumes lifting up near the refinery.”
“Give me play-by-play while I argue with the Zuparti.”
“Alright. Altitude’s hard to tell from here, sir, but it looks like the Zuul are climbing to get a better view and the Foresters are coasting along, waiting to pounce.”
“How many Zuul?”
“Four flights of two dropships.”
“Arranged?”
“Separated by five to ten klicks to get greater coverage.”
“Hopefully the Foresters can trap a pair.”
“Hope so. They’re fucked if the Zuul have complete air superiority, especially since the Zuparti will have overwatch.”
“Working on that, Pelham.”
I saw him grin out of the corner of my eye. “I see that.”
He was silent for a moment, then he whooped. “Yep, the Foresters trapped a pair. Splashed two bogies.” He sobered. “The other pairs are pouncing. They may have the Forester dropships bracketed.” He paused. “Crap, looks like they’ve got long-range AAMs. One of the Foresters is down.”
“Shit.”
“But, goddamn, those fuckers are brave. Or suicidal.”
“Fine line. What happened?”
“They charged a pair and are mixing it up in a hairball. Knife range. One Zuul down. Another!” He paused. “Shit. Another Forester gone.” He smacked his console. “And another. There’s only one Forester left.”
“Damn.”
“Whoever the hell he is, he’s fuckin’ Pappy Boyington. Baa baa black sheep. Two more bogeys splashed!”
“Still outnumbered?”
“Yeah.” Pelham shook his head. “Fucker is staying tight, though.”
“I wonder if he’s low on ammo.”
“Bet he is. He’s got n—” He hit the console again. “Fuck, I hope I find him in Valhalla or wherever.”
“What?”
“He kept it tight, making it hard for one to lock on because of the hairball. Then it looks like he broke out of the dogfight and rammed the other dropship.” He shrugged. “Both signals disappeared at once.”
“One Zuul dropship left?”
“Yeah, but he’s headed back to the barn.” He switched focus. “Shit, another flight of eight is leaving the Jeriasker airfield.”
“Get word to Edmonds.”
“Already on it.” Pelham returned to his plot. After a moment, “Huh.”
“What?”
“A ship just emerged at L4.”
“She won’t be here for a while. Ignore it.”
“I will, it’s just rare to see a Peacemaker ship.”
“What?” I turned and looked at him. “A Peacemaker-flagged vessel? What ship?”
“The African Queen.”
“What?!”
Before I could process the information, my sweeper began running a bunch of subroutines similar to those it had run in the cab. This time, though, there was no smoke or burning.
What the hell?
It shut down for ten seconds. Then rebooted.
Pelham saw me jerk back in surprise. “What happened?”
I shook my head and waited for my sweeper to come back online.
After it did, Bullitt appeared in my pinplant. He sat at his office desk with a full glass of thirty-year old scotch. In the background, I could hear an alarm beeping.
He grimaced. “If you need to change your pants, ladies and gentlemen, now’s the fucking time.” He drank a healthy slug from the glass and filled it again. “HR and investors have decided it’s time for me to retire.”
I blinked. How could HR make that decision? It was Bullitt’s company, right?
“If you’re seeing this, and your sweeper hasn’t blown you to bits, the program I spent twenty years writing worked. I didn’t always like HR’s ‘retirement’ plans for you lot either.”
He took another slug.
“Your sweepers should now be clear of my investors’ influence. I hope I got everything. The smoke comes from a series of components they used to monitor you. You should be in the clear, though they’ll be searching for you, so I’d move soon.”
Moneypenny came into the office. “We’re all clear.”
“Then get out of here,” ordered Bullitt.
The admin assistant shrugged. “You’re not the worst boss. I think I’ll stay.” He grabbed a glass, sat down, poured himself a shot, and sighed with pleasure. “Besides, you always did have good taste in scotch.” He leane
d back and began looking at something on his pinplant.
“Fuck!” Bullitt slammed his hand on the desk.
“What’s going on?” asked Pelham, with increasing anxiety.
I shushed him and continued watching.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Moneypenny. “Everyone else in the building is gone except HR. They’re on their way up.”
Bullitt glared at him, then turned back to the camera. “I’ve included a gift or two for each of you.” He shrugged. “There’s also a severance bonus in untraceable accounts. You can use those gifts or you can retire.”
Moneypenny’s eyes sharpened. “They’re on the floor, sir.”
Bullitt nodded.
He paused, clearly wanting to say something.
Then he smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think this is the ending of some beautiful friendships.”
He and Moneypenny emptied their glasses.
“Artoo. Activate emergency protocol Death Star.”
“Confirmation required.”
“Activate emergency protocol Death Star.” He spoke the next words precisely. “Let’s blow this thing and go home.”
The computer’s calm voice replied, “Voiceprint match. Codeword match. Emergency protocol Death Star confirmed. Do or do not, there is no try.”
And the transmission stopped.
I leaned back, mouth open.
“What the fuck happened, Blaine?” Then Pelham clicked his comm. “Garrison to EW. Garrison to EW.”
I shook my head to clear it.
Garrison arrived.
“What’s up, Pel? We’re not exactly lazin’ about on the bridge.”
“Something just happened to the spook, and I don’t like it.”
She shifted her gaze to me. “Well, me boy?”
“I think my firm just went…belly-up.”
“Is that it? Yer skills ain’t nothing. You’ll be fine.” She started to leave.
“Wait. You’re not going to like this. I’m creating a secure line to the African Queen.” I used my sweeper to quickly bypass the Cabot’s security protocols.
“Holy fuck, Blaine!” snapped Pelham.
I ignored him and sent a whisker laser to the other ship.
