Ep.#10 - Retaliation (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  Nathan turned and headed toward her, failing to hide the smile on his face. “Trying to send me to an early grave, Lieutenant Commander?”

  Jessica smiled back. “It’s hard to kill a Nash, remember?” she boasted, throwing her arms around him.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to test that theory so often,” he replied. “Sooner or later, your luck is going to run out.”

  “Wasn’t luck,” she insisted, pointing to Commander Andreola as he climbed out of the escape pod. “We never would have made it back to the shuttle in time. If he hadn’t redirected us to the nearest escape pod, we’d all be…well, we wouldn’t…be, if you know what I mean.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Nathan said.

  “I wanted out of there, as well,” Commander Andreola insisted, not wanting to take any credit.

  “What happened?” Nathan wondered.

  “Apparently the Dusahn don’t want anyone downloading data from their ships,” Jessica explained, “even the captured ones.”

  “We had speculated that such traps existed,” Commander Andreola admitted, “but never found any evidence of them…until now, that is.”

  “Were you able to get anything?” Nathan wondered.

  “I’m afraid not,” the commander replied. “Once the alert was triggered, the data card lock would not release.”

  “I don’t suppose you can navigate back to your world without your star charts,” Nathan said.

  “It may be possible using yours,” the commander said with no small amount of skepticism.

  “It’s been our experience that after a thousand years of separation, star charts differ quite a bit between civilizations,” Nathan warned. “It may be more difficult than you think.”

  “We do have three common points of reference,” the commander reminded him. “This system, Sol, and the Jung homeworld. That and my knowledge of the constellations in Orswella’s night sky should be enough. However, as you said, it will take some time.”

  “Time is the one thing that is always in short supply,” Nathan insisted.

  “Perhaps for you,” Commander Andreola agreed, “but I have little else to do.”

  “Not anymore,” Nathan replied.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Transit complete, Commander,” the pilot of Reaper One reported over comm-sets. “Striker One is about five clicks…”

  Vladimir looked at the technician who was helping him with his helmet, the sudden interruption in the pilot’s last statement worrying them both. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “I don’t see how anyone can still be alive in there.”

  “Put me over comms,” Vladimir ordered.

  “One moment.”

  “Get my helmet on,” Vladimir urged the technician. “I need to get out there.”

  “Yes, sir,” the technician replied, raising the commander’s helmet up and lowering it over his head.

  “I’ve got you hooked into ship to ship, sir,” the pilot reported.

  “Striker One, this is Commander Kamenetskiy aboard Reaper One. What is the status of Striker Three?”

  “Vlad, this is Robert. Striker Three is a dead hulk. Battery power is gone, their CO-Two levels are climbing, and they’ve used up all the oxygen we could give them. My engineer even tried cycling their atmo through his suit scrubbers, but it was too much for them and he had to disconnect.”

  “Is the crew still alive?” Vladimir asked while the technician secured his helmet in place.

  “As far as I know, yes,” Robert replied. “All of them, except for Walsh, are sedated and sleeping, and Aiden is mostly talking gibberish at this point. Whatever you’ve got in mind had better happen fast.”

  “Get your helmet on,” Vladimir instructed the technician. “Then start depressurizing this compartment. Pilot, how long until intercept?”

  “Thirty seconds,” the pilot replied.

  “I brought a portable, life-support unit, along with a mini-fusion generator,” Vladimir announced over comms. “That should keep them alive until the Manamu arrives.”

  “The Manamu?” Robert wondered.

  “She will open her aft bay and scoop Striker Three up,” Vladimir explained.

  “Why not just use a boxcar?” Robert asked.

  “The captain was worried that it might not be big enough. Even if it was, it would be a far more difficult operation. Boxcars are not good at precision maneuvering.”

  “Commander, Engineer Hake here,” Renny called over comms. “I’m not sure you’re going to be able to hook that thing up to Striker Three. She’s pretty busted up.”

  “Do they have airflow paths in and out of the wreckage?” Vladimir asked.

  “Yes, sir, but their control circuitry is completely fried. There will be no way to connect its internal sensors to the unit so it can monitor the environment it is creating.”

  “Then they will have to give me regular status reports so I can adjust the unit manually,” Vladimir explained.

  “Coming up to Striker Three, now,” the pilot reported.

  “Depress complete,” the technician reported. “Opening the rear hatch.”

  “You’re planning on riding the wreckage down to the deck?” Robert asked, a bit surprised.

  “That is the plan,” Vladimir admitted.

  “A bit risky, isn’t it?”

  “That’s why the captain sent me,” Vladimir boasted. “He needed a brave, good-looking genius.”

  “Of course,” Robert replied.

  “Reaper Two, prepare to send the environmental support pack over to me,” Vladimir instructed.

  “We’re ready, Commander.”

  “Reapers Three and Four, take up perimeter watch,” Vladimir added. “Five and Six will take long-range patrol.”

  “Three copies.”

  “Four copies.”

  “Five and Six, suggest you concentrate on the flight path that brought Striker Three to this location,” Robert commented. “If the Dusahn are searching for them, they’ll be tracing their old light, just like we did. We’ll send you the course data, now.”

  “Understood.”

  “Commander, I’ll handle incident command so you can focus on keeping them alive,” Robert added.

  “Deal.” Vladimir stepped up to the aft cargo door of the Reaper as it deployed, revealing the wreckage that was about to challenge his engineering expertise. “Gospadee,” he exclaimed as he got his first look at the wreckage.

  “If you need an extra set of hands, I’m game,” Renny volunteered.

  “Crazy loves company,” Vladimir replied as he walked out the back of the Reaper, stepped off the end of the ramp, and fired the maneuvering thrusters on his EVA suit to propel himself toward the wreckage fifty meters away.

  * * *

  Nathan made his way down the corridor from the Aurora’s bridge, heading aft. It had been a long day for him, and it showed no signs of ending anytime soon. Lives had been at stake since the day had begun and were still in peril at the moment. What made it worse was that there was nothing he could do about it. Decisions had been made, orders had been given, and resources were on their way. Dozens of lives had been sent into harm’s way to save a handful. As a mathematical problem, it was a mistake. As a management problem, it was a poor use of resources. Even as a risk-reward problem, it was a poor decision.

  None of that mattered to Nathan. What mattered was that they tried. Despite the odds, they tried. If the crew of Striker Three perished, they would die knowing they had not been abandoned. More importantly, the rest of the Alliance would know. They would know that their lives were more than numbers, more than resources. They would know that their lives mattered to those who carried the responsibility to protect them, and would not waste them unnecessarily. Those who were willing to lay their lives on the line would know that every effort would be made to see that they returned home after each mission.

  Nathan reached the main intersection and turned left, then entered the intelligence compart
ment. As expected, he found Lieutenant Commander Shinoda and Jessica going over recent recon data from various Dusahn-held systems.

  “Captain,” the lieutenant commander greeted.

  “Lieutenant Commander,” Nathan replied.

  “What’s up, Skipper?” Jessica asked in her usual informal fashion.

  “I need you two to gather everything you have on the Tico system,” Nathan instructed.

  The lieutenant commander looked confused. “I’m not familiar with the Tico system, sir.”

  “It’s a boring little system. A red dwarf surrounded by a bunch of asteroids. It’s more commonly referred to as Rama, which is the only inhabited asteroid in the system.”

  “That’s in the middle of the Pentaurus cluster,” Jessica pointed out. She looked at the lieutenant commander. “Like, not even a light year from Takara, right?”

  “One point three light years,” Nathan corrected.

  “Rama,” the lieutenant commander said, recognizing the name. “That’s where the ZPED factory is located.”

  “Oh, shit,” Jessica commented, realizing what Nathan was thinking. “Bad idea, Nathan.”

  “What? I’m just asking for intel.”

  “Bullshit,” Jessica replied. “I know you. You’re thinking about raiding Rama and stealing a ZPED.”

  “No, I’m thinking about stealing four ZPEDs.”

  “Rama is well within the Dusahn’s patrol zone, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda warned. “The moment one of our ships appears in the Tico system an alert will go out, and you’ll have half the Dusahn fleet there in less than two minutes…maybe less than one.”

  “I don’t plan to set off an alert,” Nathan told him, “and even if I do, the Dusahn will be too busy defending Takara to respond.”

  “Against what?” Jessica questioned. “We’re down to two Strikers, and the Aurora isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon, not with only one reactor.”

  “Which is why we’re going to steal some ZPEDs from Rama,” Nathan replied. “Now get me that intel.”

  “Should we send the Falcon for a recon pass?” the lieutenant commander wondered.

  “No. I don’t want to alert the Dusahn. I want them to continue believing that Rama is adequately protected.”

  “Because it is,” Jessica reminded him.

  “Just collect all the data that we have.”

  “There’s another recon drone pass scheduled for Rama later today,” the lieutenant commander pointed out. “Should I cancel it?”

  “Not if the Dusahn are expecting it,” Nathan replied.

  “We vary the timing of the passes, but any decent intel officer will realize it’s a scheduled pass,” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda insisted.

  “Then keep the pass,” Nathan replied, “and any other passes that are scheduled,” he added as he turned to exit. “Send it all to my ready room.”

  “Aye, sir,” the lieutenant commander replied, exchanging a concerned glance with Jessica.

  “Captain,” Jessica called after Nathan as she followed him out the hatch into the corridor.

  “This is the part where you reiterate your objections, isn’t it,” Nathan said, continuing down the corridor.

  “Yes, it is,” Jessica admitted, following him.

  “Don’t bother.”

  “Nathan, a full-on assault on anything that close to Takara is a suicide mission!”

  “That’s why I’m not planning a full-on assault,” Nathan replied.

  “Then how do you plan on getting onto Rama?”

  “I may have a way inside,” Nathan explained, “but it requires dealing with someone I normally wouldn’t dream of trusting.”

  “Yet another reason not to do this,” Jessica said, grasping at the opportunity.

  “This ship isn’t going anywhere with only one reactor, Jess, you said so yourself. In order to beat the Dusahn, we need three things: more power, a longer jump range, and more allies. Those ZPEDs are the key to all three. One way or another, I’m going to get at least enough of them to run this ship.”

  “At least wait until you review the intel before you make your final decision,” Jessica pleaded.

  “That was always the plan,” Nathan agreed. He paused at the entrance to the bridge, turning to look at her. “In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you would start analyzing the intel on Rama. See if you can find anything that might be helpful.” Without waiting for a response, Nathan turned and entered the airlock tunnel leading to the Aurora’s bridge.

  “Yes, sir,” Jessica replied as he disappeared around the corner.

  * * *

  Robert watched anxiously from Striker One’s cockpit as his engineer and Vladimir attempted to hook up the portable, life-support unit to what remained of Striker Three.

  “That’s not going to connect,” Vladimir said over comms. “The fitting is stripped.”

  “I can fashion a new one,” Renny suggested.

  “That will take too long,” Vladimir replied. “We’ll use sealing putty.”

  “That stuff is only rated to three hundred,” Renny argued. “We need to, at least, double that.”

  “I will wrap the putty with pressure tape, and we can run the system at a lower pressure and increase the oxygen saturation to compensate.”

  “That will increase their risk of fire,” Renny objected.

  “Robert, how much time?” Vladimir asked.

  “I estimate ten minutes before their atmo is no longer able to keep them alive,” Robert replied, uncertainty evident in his voice.

  “How good is your math?” Vladimir asked.

  “Not good enough.”

  “We go with the putty.”

  “New contact,” Striker One’s sensor officer reported. “It’s our recon drone. Receiving sensor data, now.”

  “What’s it say?” Robert wondered.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “No, no uh-ohs,” Robert scolded.

  “Two octos; one five seven, twenty up relative. Course and bearing suggest they came direct from Palee.”

  “Reaper Two, do you have a comm-drone?” Robert asked. “We’re fresh out.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Launch it and pass control to us.”

  “You got it.”

  “Kas, send that drone to Reapers Three and Four, and tell them to either take out those octos, or at least lead them away from us.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Something wrong?” Vladimir wondered.

  “We may have company coming. How long until the Manamu arrives?” Robert asked.

  “At least forty minutes,” Vladimir replied. “Can you protect us with your shields?”

  “Yes, but not for long,” Robert said. “Spreading them out to cover you will weaken them.”

  “Understood,” Vladimir replied.

  Robert looked at his copilot.

  “The time may come, Robert,” Sasha warned.

  “Shut up.”

  * * *

  “This sector is clear,” Ensign Weston reported.

  “Five, Six, you see anything?” Lieutenant Haddix asked over comms.

  “Negative, threat board is clear. Maybe we should spread out a bit more? Give ourselves a wider spread? How do you feel about five light seconds?” Lieutenant Taren suggested.

  “Comm delays make me nervous,” Lieutenant Haddix disagreed. “Five seconds is more than enough time for a bogey to drop in behind us and take one of us out before the other can warn him.”

  “It’s been more than three hours since Striker Three escaped,” Lieutenant Taren pointed out. “If the Dusahn were looking for them, I’m pretty sure they would have found them by now.”

  “Then that extra five seconds of separation isn’t going to make a difference, is it?”

  “Nervous Nellie.”

  Ensign Weston glanced at his pilot, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to let the remark stand without a response, especially not from a newb.

  “How many hours you got in t
hat bird, Taren?” the lieutenant asked.

  “Uh, a few hundred, I think.”

  “Talk to me when you’ve got a few thousand,” Lieutenant Haddix replied, the slightest bit of sarcasm in his tone. He turned to his copilot, smiling. “Prep the next jump, Wes.”

  “You got it.”

  “I’ve got a contact,” Ensign Jayson reported from Reaper Five. “Comm-drone. Incoming message.”

  “I’m getting it, as well,” Ensign Weston reported. “It’s from Striker One. They’ve got a contact from a recon drone, about two light hours ahead of us, twenty light minutes left of our present course, and five light minutes high. They’re headed directly toward Striker Three’s position.”

  “They must know Striker Three’s location,” Lieutenant Taren surmised.

  “No way,” Lieutenant Haddix disagreed. “If they did, they’d already be on top of them. They’re skipping along their suspected route, the same way that Striker One did, hoping to pick up their old light.”

  “If that’s the case, they’re only a jump or two away from the last debris point, which will lead directly to them,” Lieutenant Taren replied.

  “Which is probably why Striker One is ordering us to intercept,” Ensign Weston added.

  “How many octos?” the lieutenant wondered.

  “Two.”

  “Assuming they don’t have any friends a few light minutes out,” Lieutenant Taren quipped.

  “Funny,” Lieutenant Haddix replied. “Plot an intercept jump, Wes. Three, stay even with me to my starboard side, about a ten-thousand-click spread.”

  “Now you want to spread out.”

  “We’ll jump past them, then come about, and jump in behind them,” Lieutenant Haddix continued, ignoring him, “just outside of their sensor range. Ours is a bit longer, which should allow us to take them by surprise.”

  “Intercept plotted,” Ensign Weston announced. “Transmitting to Reaper Five.”

  “You getting the plot?” Lieutenant Haddix asked.

  “We’ve got it,” Ensign Jayson replied.

  “Turn to intercept course, and prepare a jump to the turn point in twenty seconds,” Lieutenant Haddix instructed.

  “Copy that,” Lieutenant Taren replied.

  “If they’re skipping along Three’s escape course, hoping to get lucky, they’ll be jumping any moment,” Ensign Weston warned.