by Daniel Gibbs
All in all, it made for an impressive display of firepower as Oxford hacked at the six privateer vessels from an unexpected angle. The coup de grâce, though, was the muonic cannon. One of the privateer vessels veered off and abandoned its compatriots seemingly without a second glance as soon as Oxford scorched its bow with a direct hit.
“I suppose they’ve never heard of a Q-ship before,” Eldred murmured.
Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize ancient history was a specialty of yours, warrant. Warships disguised as merchantmen from Earth’s first global war?”
“One and the same, Colonel. I know CDF has made use of them before but not outside wartime, as far as I know.”
“Very true.”
Tamir cleared his throat. “Sierra Two and Five are without power. Three has broken off from the engagement and is withdrawing.”
“That didn’t take as much convincing as I would have surmised,” Sinclair noted. “Though clearly the CO had a shock-and-awe tactic in mind, Oxford is proving herself capable to provide offense, but she doesn’t have the endurance to engage in a long-running battle, which is why… yes. I see the CO has ordered for the Lawrence drive to be charged.”
“Understood, sir,” Tamir said. “Tuscon reports they’re headed in for rendezvous with Unit 171.”
“I sincerely hope they’ll singe the paint on our ghostly friend on their way.” Sinclair clasped his hands. “I grow tired of their interference.”
Freighter Meng Po
In Orbit of Bellwether Station
* * *
Unbelievable. Zhou couldn’t make up his mind whether to release the longest string of invectives he’d learned at the academy from the most ruthless trainers or offer grudging congratulations to the Terran CDF for having a second vessel hiding in plain sight.
Tactical was no help. Every time it pinged the battered freighter for ID, the result came back with a different name—San Tomas, Yokohama, Serrekunda, Ballinhassig. The supposedly secure transponder codes were so convoluted they made the privateers’ elaborate disguises about as impressive as a pair of antique spectacles on an otherwise-unchanged face.
And the weaponry. Zhou smelled neutral forces at work, given the motley collection of firepower, but the tactics—those hinted at CDF control. Clearly ESS had underestimated the lengths to which CDF Intelligence was willing to intervene in that fragile, post-war time.
“Captain?” The comms tech held an earpiece away from her head, allowing staticky speech to filter out. “The privateers are demanding direction, sir. They say they’re taking a beating.”
“Maintain comms silence,” Zhou ordered. “Nav, time to intercept?”
“Ninety seconds, sir.”
“Good. Wormhole drive charged?”
“Charged and standing by, Captain. As soon as the pod is secure, we can jump.”
Zhou stood by Balland’s chair, unwilling to look away from the blinking lights filling the board. “Tactical, designate that new bandit Victor Two.”
“Victor Two, aye, sir.” Balland input commands.
“What about Victor One?” Zhou jabbed a finger at the display. “Clearly they haven’t returned fire.”
“No, sir. They’re burning hard for us and have cleared all our missiles off their track. I have a second wave standing by for launch, Captain. Should I re-task to target Victor Two instead of Victor One? Or split the difference?”
The last time we took the stealth raider on, it nearly tore us to pieces—they took big bites out, in any case. How willing am I to endanger this ship and crew again? All for the glory of the League. His earlier bravado faded, and Zhou scowled. Kiel wouldn’t want him to risk his most secure ride out of the new mess. That much was certain. “Neither, Tactical. Whatever Victor One has in mind, they’re not planning on shooting us down, or they’d have done so. But let’s remind them we’re still watching. Keep the doors open, but do not switch targets. As soon as the pod is aboard, close them up prior to the jump.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Zhou considered the damaged and fleeing privateers on the plot. Victor Two continued its headlong rush, passing around the far side of Bellwether. Victor One—the stealth boat—wasn’t letting up its dogged pursuit of Meng Po, threading a new course through the chaos left by the brief battle.
“Captain, sensor report—we have the repair pod. Thirty-six seconds.”
“Nav, watch our vectors and speed,” Zhou warned. “Make sure whoever’s flying them out knows how to match course, or we’ll be scraping them off the hull.”
As he watched the tiny bleep grow ever closer to Meng Po, he pondered how another fight between his ship and the stealth boat would have ended. For the time being, though, he would be happy with not being dead and not killing the man keeping the League’s ire from wiping him out.
“Docking clamps in five,” Yahanotov intoned.
Kiel let himself stew for four seconds before giving his safety straps a final tug. The pod jolted hard enough he slammed the back of his head against the cushioned rest. Ferenc, of course, was as immobile as if he’d been welded to the pod’s fuselage.
“We’re secure.” Yahanotov swiped sweat from his face. Space, but the man reeked.
Before any of them could reach for their straps, a voice echoed through the intercom, “Hostiles engaged. Stand by for wormhole drive initiation.”
So, that was it. They were leaving the system empty-handed. Kiel willed himself to cool his fury. It hadn’t been the foiled destabilization mission from before. His superiors expected him to deliver a single item, and he’d failed. Repercussions would be swift. Kiel pursed his lips. If he applied the right political pressure to the corrupt individuals on whom he kept secret files, the fallout might not be so terrible.
Across the tiny compartment, Circe seethed and kept her arms folded. Even with her failure to steal Project Life Swarm, she had proven a useful asset and had provoked Ramsey’s corrupt Tactisar unit to inflict harm on Nosamo’s labs, thus giving the Terrans something else to focus on. Her interactions with the CDF spies could prove useful too.
As the thrum from Meng Po’s wormhole drive rose to a crescendo and plunged them through a breach in space, Kiel reflected on the fuzzy image of Jack Arno’s face that he recalled from Ferenc’s scans.
He had a hunch—always good to follow up on those, even though he preferred cold, hard facts. When he’d had Yahanotov scan for suspected CDF Intelligence frequencies, similar to those Kiel had intercepted on Aphendrika, he’d acted on a similar hunch—and now he had proof of individuals meddling in his operations. What he needed, though, was a true face and a true name to end their interference for good.
Jackson peered out of the Saurian shuttle’s narrow viewports as it streaked alongside Tuscon’s sleek, dark hull. If he hadn’t known the stealth boat was ready to haul them aboard, he would have assumed he’d encountered a blank spot in space, devoid of stars.
“They’ve skipped out of the system.” Brant monitored communications. He looked haggard, his expression drawn and pale. “I assume that includes your new lady friend.”
“And Vasiliy. He was here.” Jackson tapped his wrist unit. “You and I have scan data to review, right after we get the Nosamo files to a secure server.”
“Rest.” Sev was lashed into a seat, his eyes closed.
No visible wounds, that one, but his face was smudged with soot and his right cheek seared as if by sunburn—from a nearby plasma blast, Jackson assumed.
“We’ll get plenty of that too.” Gina patted his shoulder. “I, for one, am going to disappear for a few days after our return and debriefing—see what I can discover about dear Ms. Ciara Bui.”
“I reckon she’ll be top on our list if she’s a new player in these parts.” Dwyer snorted. “These parts being Coalition space and nearby.”
“They’re getting bolder,” Jackson noted. “Taking rash action.”
“You think we’re getting on their nerves?” Brant pressed his hands tog
ether like he was actually praying. “He said with fervent hope.”
Jackson glanced back to where Ramsey was bound, their one and only prisoner from this escapade. The corrupt detective was dozing, snoring like he was a contented bear, courtesy a sedative Gina administered. He grinned. “If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be doing our jobs.”
25
Oval Office—the White House
Lawrence City, Canaan
1 December 2464
* * *
Justin Spencer flicked through the last pages of the after-action report. No one in the office had spoken since General Andrew MacIntosh had arrived with the classified data, but as Spencer surreptitiously glanced at the others in attendance, he tried to gauge their responses.
MacIntosh wore a perpetual frown, but that was no sure indicator of his mood. Vice President Eduardo Fuentes had his hand to his chin, tapping his index finger on his lips as he read—a sure sign he was deep in thought. Secretary Celinda Snow sat with her hands folded and legs crossed, gazing at a painting recently gifted to the Oval Office. It depicted Canaan from orbit, the curve of the home planet filling the bottom third of the framed portrait while CSV Lion of Judah soared above, bound for parts unknown.
Not a pleasant reminder of the geopolitical situation they were facing. The flagship’s disappearance had everyone scratching their heads, but with the League making subtle moves all along the border sectors—and into key systems—nothing could be done besides continuing the search while devoting most resources to countering the League’s machinations. That and pray, of course.
Heavenly Father, be with the crew in whatever challenges they face. Spencer searched his heart for what he wanted to say, digging past the turmoil that threatened to overwhelm him on the darkest days. I don’t believe they’re lost forever. If they are, grant them your grace and eternal rest, but if they still live, I pray your will be done in their present situation. May they return to us in due time.
Void Captain Nalax shut off his tablet with a click of his talons, jolting Spencer from his meditation. “This resolution is satisfactory.”
MacIntosh snorted. “That’s all you’ve got? I can think of a much wordier description of what should have been a simple smash-and-grab. It begins with the prefix ‘cluster’ and I won’t utter the rest with a lady in the room.”
“I appreciate your tact, if not your assessment of the outcome,” Snow said dryly. “When, in fact, Covert Action Unit 171 achieved their goals and then some.”
“By causing a shootout and ship-to-ship action at the most heavily trafficked commercial space station in the Saurian border region?” MacIntosh shook his head. “Sorry, Madam Secretary, but when I think of CDF Intelligence, I expect much quieter outcomes, not all the flash and bang. If that’s what we’re willing to accept, we should have sent in the space special warfare teams and been done with it.”
“We would have handed the news networks, not to mention the League, a PR coup with such a blatantly military response.” Fuentes made a face as he set the tablet on the couch cushion beside him, next to Snow. “I’m not any more pleased with Oxford taking an active combat role in this situation than you are. While we did achieve our ends, I can’t help feeling a diplomatic response may have been a better option—continued negotiations with CEO Noor, for example.”
“That scum.” MacIntosh muttered.
Spencer held up his hands for silence. “People, I think the assessments you’ve offered have been on-target, for the most part. Andrew, we all wanted this resolved quietly, but the level of action the apparent League assets were willing to take to further their ends outstrips what they attempted on Aphendrika. Not only did they have Tactisar’s corrupt officers on their payroll—essentially convincing Ramsey Moss to undertake this heist for his financial gain—but they planted their own operative inside Nosamo to encourage him without his knowledge.”
“We’re still trying to unravel the role privateers played,” Snow pointed out. “Clearly they were taking pay from someone who may or may not have been the League—the phrase ‘benefactor’ is being tossed around a lot by the individuals CSV Tuscon apprehended. It’s entirely possible even they don’t know who they were working for.”
“This is true.”
Nalax snarled. “We have proven the greed of Nosamo paid for privateers to disrupt trade in the Wedge and beyond.”
“Yes, but how much of that was League prompted and how much was the megacorporation’s own doing remains to be seen,” Snow noted.
“It matters not. Both are guilty. They will be made to pay.”
“Hold on there.” Fuentes leaned forward from the couch. “I don’t think anyone’s discussed retaliatory action, and if that option has been raised, I will go on record right now as saying I do not approve.”
“No one’s retaliating against Nosamo,” Spencer said firmly. “They’re an independent concern outside Coalition space and a private company. While I may personally detest megacorps, we can’t afford another war.”
“And when they challenge the sovereign rights of the nations they border?” Nalax growled.
Spencer shrugged. “Nosamo isn’t coming out of this unscathed, keep in mind. We have the testimony of one Detective Ramsey Moss to see to that.”
“Yes, indeed.” Snow looked quite pleased with herself. “He is facing a murder charge for the death of Captain Nelson Garza as well as additional charges in the attempted killings of not only Lieutenant Duncan Garza but Captain Jackson Adams and civilian contractor Gina Wilkes. These charges and the accompanying hearings, of course, though limited in scope and attendance, will not feature the names of CDF personnel or adjunct operatives. But Moss has agreed to divulge whatever helpful information about Nosamo’s predatory actions, some of which were conducted in Coalition and Saurian Empire space. CEO Noor will have to answer for those, one way or another.”
“The Saurian Empire is eager to work with your government in this pursuit of justice.” Nalax showed his fangs. “Especially as it may lead to the coordinates of privateer bases of operation within our borders. Our captains are keen to clean out these nests of filth.”
“Hear, hear,” MacIntosh muttered.
“That’s all well and good,” Fuentes said, “assuming we’re not giving Nosamo back their project. Cornering the market on atmospheric regulation technology is one thing. Developing a weapon with catastrophic consequences for an entire world’s biosphere? It’s tantamount to a war crime.”
“You’re not wrong in your description, Ed,” Spencer agreed. “I for one am not satisfied with Nosamo’s claims that they had no intention for Life Swarm to do anything other than what it was marketed for—namely, rapidly terraforming a planet’s atmosphere to basic human survival requirements. Whether intentionally or not, they’ve created a weapon of mass destruction, one that I’m not willing to let fall into anyone else’s hands—or back into Nosamo’s. The data retrieved by Covert Action Unit 171 will be destroyed. Does anyone have any objections?”
“We may need to consider legal ramifications,” Snow noted. “But I personally don’t have a problem with the decision.”
“Nor I,” Fuentes added firmly.
“I still don’t like the idea of them getting off easy, especially if they knew it could screw up anybody’s world,” MacIntosh grumbled. “We didn’t stick two of our prize Intelligence vessels into this operation so Nosamo could get away scot-free.”
“Oh, I think SATO diplomats will be perfectly clear with Ardalion Noor that things could be far worse for him. He’s lucky I don’t let you drop a battalion of Coalition Marines on Bellwether so we can tear the entire place apart looking for other misdeeds.” That said, Spencer could tell by MacIntosh’s thickening accent that the general was pleased with the outcome. “As for Oxford, we all knew she and her crew would someday face a situation like this, Andrew. It’s why her upgrades were completed. From what Colonel Sinclair and Major Mancini report, the comms traffic during and following the skirmish indicate
s substantial confusion about what precisely happened. Right?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” MacIntosh exhaled.
“Besides.” Snow reactivated her tablet and flipped it around so the men could see the glowing screen. “We’ve taken a few preliminary steps to ensure Nosamo’s cooperation.”
Spencer knew what was coming but still smiled at the headlines and newscasters filling several windows on the tablet screen. All of them referenced recent revelations, anonymously leaked to the galaxy-wide press, of Nosamo’s involvement with predatory practices—and even communications showing they had hired privateers to prey on Coalition and Saurian competitors. Their stock prices were in free fall.
“I’ll be damned.” MacIntosh slowly grinned. “A leak, huh? What kind of intel did the press get their mitts on?”
“Confidential shipping manifests as well as footage comparing privateer vessels docked in Nosamo’s hangars with ships spotted by the Saurians within their empire,” Snow explained.
Fuentes’s expression was one of bemusement. “Please pass along our compliments through Colonel Sinclair to whoever the cinematographer was.”
“I will, Mr. Vice President.”
Spencer leaned back in his chair. “Well, Void Captain Nalax, what is the position of the Saurian Empire now that this is firmly in hand?”
“I still say we could have achieved a swifter resolution by blockading Bellwether Station and flooding it with Saurian warriors, who could have wrung confessions from every neck around which they clamped their claws,” Nalax replied.
Fuentes shook his head and sighed.
“But we are willing to continue this level of clandestine cooperation, as much as our society will allow. Elements of the Clawless provided surprisingly useful, given their cowardice.”
