“Destroyer, eh?” Alexis had never liked destroyers. Many other races used them, Izlians in particular. Frigate-sized ships designed only for offense operations weren’t part of the Hussars’ tactical doctrine. She liked to have more options than only to attack. When Humans first encountered the class, some fool thought of Earth’s naval vessels tasked with hunting submarines. For some reason, they thought that equated to the mission of these ships. She opened the door.
“What happened when they encountered our highguard?” Alexis asked.
“The destroyer, Zuul-crewed according to the transport commanders, tried to fight its way out. Captain Porter said its captain wouldn’t surrender.”
“I understand. The transports capitulated?”
“As soon as the destroyer was destroyed, though they didn’t help it in any way.”
Interesting, Alexis thought. “What about them? Zuul, too?”
“No, they’re all Bakulu. Two cargo transports, two passenger transports.”
“Passengers? How many?”
“Their manifests state 11,552 total.”
“Entropy!” Alexis said. Then she thought about what they had. “They’re crew, aren’t they?”
“Correct, Colonel. For the battleships.”
“Well, they’re about to be disappointed. Their former destinations are now war prizes. Bring them to operations and see if we can scrounge enough space for housing.”
“The one claiming to be the leader would like to talk.”
She considered for a second, then shrugged. “Okay. Have Porter detach a frigate to escort the transports down here, then I’ll speak with their representative.”
“Yes, Colonel,” Paka said and left.
Alexis used her pinplants to call over to Pegasus, and she requested two of her crew meet her in the docking bay in two hours.
Two hours later, she’d showered, gotten a clean uniform, had a meal, and felt more Human. She wore the black coveralls with gold officers’ stripes, with the silver eagles of her colonel’s rank on her collars. Her distinctive pure white hair made her eminently recognizable.
She stood in the command center, watching as the frigate Lobera slowly approached the station, braking with its ion drive, along with the four Bakulu transports. Next to the sleek needle shape of the Sword-class frigate, they looked like watermelons. The thought made Alexis smile a little. The view slowly rotated as the station spun. The transports came to a stop, and a shuttle launched from one. Alexis left to meet it in the docking bay.
Paka went aboard the shuttle after it was docked and brought the leader out with her. The Bakulu looked like most others of its race, a big snail with three eyestalks and an intricate shell which was airtight. They could maneuver in zero gravity using jets of air and manipulate things with extruded pseudopods. Bakulu were among the most valued and skilled starship crews in the galaxy.
“Colonel,” Paka said as she floated over with the Bakulu in tow, “this is Commander Flookoolu, of the Sloohoo mercenary company.”
What’s with ooo and Bakulu, anyway? Alexis wondered, just barely keeping the grin off her face. “Commander, good to meet you,” she said.
“If it were only mutual,” Flookoolu said. “We were contracted by General Peepo as crew.”
“Your employment has been terminated,” Alexis said.
“Obviously,” the commander replied, keeping two of his eyestalks on her while looking around the bay with the other. A handful of Hussars’ security personnel were there, though none in CASPers. There were also a number of other, different races to see, not just Humans. “You destroyed our escort.”
“They refused to surrender,” Alexis said.
“Is that true?” Flookoolu asked, looking at Paka, who nodded agreement. “Stupid,” he said. “You took the system. That tells me several things. One, you are resourceful. Two, you are tenacious to take such a gamble, especially with the might of the Mercenary Guild after you. And three, you are indeed a force to be reckoned with.”
“My thanks,” Alexis said, bowing her head in salute.
“It was only a statement of fact, Colonel Cromwell. So, are we now to spend the rest of this war as your prisoners?”
“I can see three options,” Alexis said. “One, that you remain here as prisoners, as you said. Two, we arrange transport for you to a neutral system.”
“You would do this?” Flookoolu asked, surprise obvious in his voice.
“Yes, I would. And you can stop looking at Paka; she isn’t in command, I am. You’re speaking to Colonel Alexis Cromwell, commander of the Winged Hussars. One of the Human Four Horsemen. If I say we will do something, by entropy, we will.”
“The same Four Horsemen accused of many crimes? The same ones who took an armed party to Capital and shot their way in to break the commander of the Golden Horde out of custody from the Mercenary Guild during an official tribunal? Those Four Horsemen?”
Alexis felt her jaw set, muscles standing out on her neck, and hoped the Bakulu wasn’t a study in Human mannerisms, or he would know just how pissed she was.
“Tribunal?” Flookoolu turned an eye to regard the woman who’d just shown up. Dark skinned and powerful, she was a stark contrast to Alexis’ pale complexion. Sansar Enkh wore a clean uniform, too, and looked ready for business. Alexis could tell the other woman was just as mad, but carefully controlling herself. “They did call it a tribunal, didn’t they? A trial of trumped-up charges, intended to declare me quickly guilty, and then execute me. My people decided they didn’t want to let the Mercenary Guild murder me, so they rescued me with minimal force.”
“I have this heard about you Humans,” the Bakulu commander said. “You worry about killing. Despite being so good at it, the act disturbs you.”
“You’re wrong,” Sansar said. “Despite being good at it, the issue is that we don’t enjoy it—most of us, anyway—we only do it when we must. This is not a safe galaxy to be weak.”
“This is very true,” Flookoolu said. “I had not heard you were sentenced to death. Truth be told, many of us with the Bakulu believe you are also likely, as you insist, not guilty of these crimes. Humans have caused a lot of disruption in the Mercenary Guild, and Peepo is part of a faction which long disagreed with allowing Humans in the guild. But you brought a lot of money into play. You’ve also helped a lot of small races who otherwise might not have lived. That is an unusual act for a race who would be guilty of so many high crimes against the Galactic Union.” He looked with all three eyes between Alexis and Sansar, then spoke again. “Colonel Cromwell, you mentioned three options?”
“Can you tell me the primary details of your contract with General Peepo?”
“I see no reason why not,” he replied. “We were to crew the two battleships here for the Maki, who owned them. The contract was worth 20 million credits, with combat bonuses of 5 percent without limit. After the war was over, we were to receive another 20 percent bonus.”
“Peepo is pretty generous with other people’s money,” Sansar said and laughed.
“It wasn’t exceptionally profitable if you own your own ships,” Alexis said.
“But those weren’t our ships,” Flookoolu said, “and thus our risk was only in lives. Our company was nearly broke; we lost our own vessels as the result of some poor decisions by our commander.”
“Your poor decisions?” Alexis asked.
The Bakulu waggled his eyes, a gesture Alexis recognized as the same as a Human head shake. “No, I am his replacement. After this disaster, I suspect I will have a replacement. But you still haven’t told me about this third option.”
“Work for the Winged Hussars,” Alexis said. The Bakulu must have been shocked, because he remained silent. “We’ll pay the same contract rates.”
“Work for the Humans known for ruining our ships, among others?”
“Fight for the winning side,” Sansar said. “That’s what she’s offering.”
Alexis could see he was tempted, and almost made a high
er offer, but then she had another idea. “My engineers tell me the ships are essentially finished. That makes sense, considering the timing of your arrival. The Winged Hussars normally have little use for battleships. The current situation is forcing me to alter my tactics.” She took out a slate and used the Tri-V to display the two battleships sitting in the shipyards. “Those ships are mine, war prizes taken from Peepo and the Maki for waging war against humanity.” She pointed at the ships. “Crew those vessels for us, we’ll pay all expenses, and after the conflict is over, they’re yours.”
Flookoolu was gobsmacked. A stunned Bakulu was something to behold. He exuded several random pseudopods, his eyestalks bumped against each other, and he fired several random jets of air. He almost sent himself into a spin, but just recovered. “The ships?” he said incredulously. “You are offering us two battleships? Colonel Cromwell, they are worth over two billion credits. Each!”
“That sounds about right,” Alexis said.
It took several moments for Flookoolu to come to himself, but when he did he was still recalcitrant. “I am still concerned about working for Humans. You are a xenophobic people.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Alexis sent a message with her pinplants and two more Bakulu floated in. The Winged Hussars logo was clearly emblazoned on their shells. “This is Glicksoolu, the SitCon on my flagship, Pegasus. This is Chugakakaloo, my chief helmsman on the same ship. They, and several more of your kind, call the Winged Hussars not only home, but family.”
“Only several more?” Flookoolu asked.
“We’ve found your race to be somewhat xenophobic toward Humans,” Alexis said with a sharp smile.
Flookoolu focused on Alexis with all three eyes. “You have a deal.”
* * *
EMS Pegasus, Golara System
Alexis watched the last shuttle slide into the bay amidships and disappear from view. The CIC was manned, and all stations reported.
“That was Jim Cartwright and his XO,” Paka said. “Our reaction mass is topped off, and we’re ready to go.”
“Very good,” Alexis said. “Long, please bring main power online and prepare the hyperspace shunts.”
“Power available in one minute,” the Jeha engineer reported from far aft. Already she could feel the vibrations of the hull as the three massive fusion power plants were brought up to peak output. It required massive amounts of energy to push a ship into hyperspace, and even more to keep it there. All the power plants would be at peak power as backup against failure.
“Back again, finally? Yes, I know it is risky; we’ve seen that.”
“That’s something else you haven’t told me. What are we facing?”
“That’s why the Dusman and the Kahraman didn’t use it, and why nobody uses it now.”
“Well, our need is great. So we do this.”
EMS Pegasus pulled away from the shipyard and other facilities. They could see lights on the battleships, their power plants lit for the first time. She’d inserted a few Hussars onto the ships, but not many. Paka was worried Alexis was taking a huge gamble, but Chug and Glick both assured her there was no risk. Bakulu kept their word.
“We have full power,” Paka said.
“Chug, take us into hyperspace with the provided calculations.”
With a flash, Pegasus was gone.
* * *
EMS Pegasus, Golara System
Jim watched Splunk carefully as their shuttle landed onboard Pegasus. They sat in the shuttle for a minute while the ship jumped into hyperspace, then the ground crew escorted them off. The hangar was huge, and ropes came up from the floor to allow them to move around easily in zero gravity. Splunk hung onto Jim’s leg.
She didn’t say anything out loud, but her body language spoke volumes. She was quiet, subdued, and almost nervous—not at all what he was used to. It was her first trip aboard the command ship of the Winged Hussars and the home of Ghost.
“What’s with the little sandwich fiend?” Hargrave asked once they’d been showed to their quarters. The stateroom was more than adequate for both of them.
“She’s a little out of sorts,” Jim said. The Fae had made a quick examination of the room, then settled onto the top of Jim’s travel bag and appeared to go to sleep.
“I see that,” Hargrave replied. “We’re in a new ship, and she hasn’t started dissembling anything yet.”
And she probably won’t, Jim thought. “I think maybe she has a cold or something.”
“Should the ship’s physician have a look at her?”
“No,” Jim said as their stateroom’s intercom came on.
“Colonel Cartwright?”
He went over and touched the control. “This is Colonel Cartwright.”
“Colonel, this is Paka. Colonel Cromwell would like to meet with you in ten minutes in her wardroom, please.”
“Okay, how do I find it?” he asked, glancing at Hargrave, who looked curious.
Paka gave him instructions. “If you get lost, ask any crewmember for directions.”
“I understand,” he said and signed off.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” Hargrave asked.
“It’s okay,” Jim replied. “I think I know.” He glanced over to Splunk curled up in the bag. Her bright blue eyes were watching him without expression. “I’ll be back shortly.” Splunk watched him go.
Somehow, he had been expecting more from the legendary EMS Pegasus. Jim’s father Thaddeus had told him about the ship. Fast, nimble, and incredibly powerful, the Pegasus was the most renowned starship in Human hands, dating all the way back to the Alpha Contracts a century ago. That the Hussars had an AI explained a lot of their prowess, as well as how they’d acquired the hidden base in a star system nobody knew about.
The letdown was the ship; it didn’t feel as cool as he’d been expecting. Many repairs were evident, from welded sections, to shiny new plates, to fresh paint. Then, when he passed a pair of Hussars marines, it all fell into place. Battle damage; lots of it. The ship had been through the shit a lot over the centuries. Somehow, he’d thought having an AI on your side would mean you were invulnerable. He guessed he’d been wrong.
The door to the CIC stood open, a pair of marines in light combat armor holding laser rifles floated on either side, using a foot to casually stay in place. Both were Human, unlike a lot of the Hussars. He admired their zero-G familiarity. He was a lot better himself after spending several months away, searching for Raknars and the secrets to their operation.
“Name and business?” one of the marines asked, eyeing him dubiously.
“You don’t recognize a Horseman?” a voice behind him asked. Jim looked back as Nigel floated up and put a hand on his shoulder. “This is Colonel Jim Cartwright. He may not look like it, but he’s a great commander.”
“Thanks, Nigel,” Jim said, shaking his head at the handsome man’s ear-to-ear grin.
“Sorry, Colonel,” the marine said and gestured into the CIC. “Colonel,” he said and nodded to Nigel as well. The two floated past and inside.
“I meant what I said,” Nigel said. “Back in the command center, you and your men fought both bravely and with intelligence.”
“Thanks,” Jim said, grinning.
“When those Tortantulas came suicide jumping across space? That had to be scary.”
Jim snorted. “I’ve dealt with Tortantula before. They squish nice.”
“You aren’t the soft American I expected, Colonel Cartwright.”
“And
you’re not the Arab asshole I was expecting.” Nigel’s head came around, but this time it was Jim grinning ear-to-ear.
“Touché, although I’m Persian. You can call me an asshole all you want…but call me an Arab again, and we’re going to have a problem. A big problem.” He smiled to take the sting out of it, but he appeared very serious.
The CIC was a dozen times bigger than the one on Bucephalus, and just like the rest of the ship, it was scarred and utilitarian. The strange thing was that, even though it was bigger than the one on his ship, it held fewer crew.
Paka had the command chair, and she nodded to both men as they floated through. A Human man was at the tactical systems, while a Bakulu handled the helm, and another Bakulu was at a position he didn’t recognize. There was a Buma handling communications and an elSha at damage control. Wow, Jim thought; it’s like a cartoon from the 20th century!
“Colonels Cromwell and Enkh are waiting for you,” the Bakulu at the unknown position spoke, gesturing to another door in the CIC. It was much smaller than the main entrance and stood open as well.
Jim was curious about the alien’s job. “What position do you hold…” then he realized he didn’t know his name.
“Glicksoolu,” he said. “They call me Glick. I’m the SitCon.” Jim shook his head, and the Bakulu blinked. “Think of it as a coordinator. In a large ship, it is difficult to coordinate actions. I let the Captain and her XO fight the ship while I take care of coordination between departments. Please, Colonel Cromwell is waiting?”
“It has excellent English,” Nigel said as they floated toward the door.
“He,” Jim said, “asexual races prefer ‘he’ as a personal pronoun.” Nigel grunted. Jim hadn’t realized Glick was speaking in English.
“Welcome,” Alexis said as they floated in. “This is my wardroom. It’s both an office and a home away from home. My personal quarters are two decks down. If we’re in harm’s way, I prefer to be closer to the CIC, should anything happen.” She smiled. “I’ve spent a lot of hours here.”
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