Next to appear on Featherstone’s small holo-stage was the planet Extremis. That was where his undercover sergeant, Will Boyd, was currently hiding in the clouds, waiting to regroup with the Faction and complete his mission of finding their leader.
It would take the Resolute and its convoy of heavies a day or more to reach Extremis. By then, Boyd would be long gone. The Resolute could make that distance in half the time, but it was under orders to limp along with the convoy and protect it from any attack.
After Extremis was the last and largest planet of the outer system: Supra. Its rings reached out to the first, the largest, of its eight moons, a dwarf planet with a staunchly Unionist local administration. All of Supra’s moons were strongly aligned to the Union. They were brutal hotbeds of Union zealotry, almost as crazy as some Faction settlements. It was possibly the worst place to be discovered if you were Faction, other than the scaffold outside the capitol building on Terra, but many Faction fools had found the short drop on the capital building steps preferable to the days or even weeks of torture that the Unionists of Supra had meted out to captured pirates.
Supra was a safe place for the Resolute and its convoy. It was likely that the Resolute would be welcomed with a flurry of pageantry when it docked. The Unionists of Supra never missed an opportunity to reaffirm their patriotism.
Featherstone leaned on his desk and looked at the distance from Supra to the inner system. He knew that after Supra came the hardest, and most dangerous, part of the trip: the belt, the central belt of asteroids that divided the outer system from the inner system. It was the current site of most Faction activity, and although Union Command didn’t make it public, it was having an impact on supplies of Ice. Featherstone knew it, or there would be no reason to have him and his Blue Star frigate guard this convoy.
The image zoomed out still further and the first of the inner planets appeared: Snow, a frozen planet that was home to a hardy breed of Union settlers who shrugged off the bitter cold as easily as those on Terra shrugged off light rain. Once Featherstone reached that point, he could break off from the convoy and let them make their own way to Terra. Then Featherstone hoped he could return to his infiltration mission. He didn’t like to be caught between two missions. Boyd was his priority, but the fleet had ordered him to focus on another job for now.
The image of the system pulled out still further and then vanished as a call from mine facility operations came in. The image of a young civilian operator appeared.
“Resolute, this is mine operations. The convoy is fully loaded and moving to holding coordinates on the star-ward side of the facility. Lead captain of the convoy has alerted us that they will be underway in moments. You are cleared to proceed, Resolute.”
Featherstone sent an acknowledgment then stood. He straightened his jacket as he walked out of his office and toward the command deck.
The corridor that led from the center line of the Resolute straight to the rear of the command deck was brightly lit. The sounds of the command deck echoed back toward Featherstone as he walked closer. Every time he entered the deck, he felt the thrill of command. This was his ship. Sure he was under orders of the Union Fleet Command, but as a Blue Star, he had a huge degree of autonomy. The Resolute was a powerful ship with an excellent crew, and Major Charles Featherstone always felt proud to enter its command deck.
“Bring the drive power systems up, Mr. Hemel,” Featherstone said as he climbed up into his command chair. “Make ready to get underway.” He looked down at the banks of consoles arranged in a semicircle around the main holo-stage, all with their backs to Featherstone. He was able to see over their heads to the displays of every station at a glance.
Jim Hemel took a candy stick out of his mouth and dropped it into his jacket breast pocket.
“Resolute drive systems at your command, sir,” Hemel said.
“Okay, take me around the systems, Sergeant Dorik.” Featherstone threw the image of the Resolute on to the main holo-stage. The map showed all decks and major systems in a green, holographic diagram.
Sergeant Dorik walked around the consoles. “Drive is go. Navigation, go. Defensive and weapons systems are go.”
“I’ve had the high-power laser emitter calibrated and realigned, sir,” Doc Cronin said.
Featherstone nodded. “Good work, Doc. Let’s hope we don’t need it.”
“We have a message coming in from the convoy lead captain,” Yanik Knole called up from the communications console.
“Main holo-stage, please, Mr. Knole.” Featherstone stepped down from the command chair and approached the stage. He stood before it, hands behind his back. The image of the convoy lead captain appeared.
“Major,” the civilian captain said. His face was stern and fierce. “The convoy is about to move off on my command. I just want to extend my gratitude to you and your Blue Stars for escorting us on this run. Faction activity is at its highest in the belt so we should have a clear run until then.”
“Copy that, Captain,” Featherstone said. “The Resolute will be running dark for the entire run, so if you have any last questions, now is the time.”
The captain hesitated. “No, thank you, Major. Myself and the other captains have been on this run a number of times. We all know the dangers, but we are all happy to know you will be out there watching over us. Convoy out.”
The image of the lead captain disappeared.
“Why are we babysitting these freighters, sir?” Hemel asked. He turned in his pilot’s chair and looked up at Featherstone.
“Orders, Jim,” Featherstone said. “That should be enough for you.”
“It is, sir. It’s just… We should be hunting Faction. Not escorting heavies. This is a job for the regular Marines. Come on, sir, we are Blue Stars.”
“The Faction is running a new strategy,” Featherstone said as he walked back to his command chair, “and it is all about destroying the heavies. They don’t engage cruisers anymore. They don’t steal anymore. They just want to blast heavies out of the void. Look at this convoy. Twelve Union heavies. This is going to attract some attention, don’t you think? We don’t need to hunt Faction, Jim. We can just let them come to us.”
“These heavy captains are insane,” Knole said. “Who would volunteer to run Ice across the outer system? They have minimal armament, basic shielding. You know how many of these heavies are lost on every trip?”
“As a Steel Claw fan, I bet you know all about losing,” Hemel commented. “What’s it like to support the curveball team with the lowest win ratio in the league?” He pulled the candy stick out of his pocket and picked off some lint before putting it back in his mouth.
“We’ve got the Blue Bloods in the River Stadium in the next round. You want to put your credits where your mouth is?”
Hemel laughed. “We haven’t dropped a point all season. Do you really think the River Stadium holds any fear for us? It’s not the fortress it used to be.”
“But we still have the best last-quarter defense in the league,” Knole said. “We’ll hold you off our line.”
“Ready to get underway,” Featherstone said lightly. With the merest sound of his voice, order descended on the command deck.
“Waiting on your command, sir,” Dorik said, taking his position at the defensive systems console.
“Let’s get these ships across the outer system and then I’ll tell you all why none of you have anything on the Ravens this season.”
Dorik laughed. Hemel and Knole replied in unison, “Yes, sir.”
“Heavy convoy moving off, sir,” Knole called out. He threw the convoy data to the holo-stage and the convoy appeared: twelve ships in tight formation, three heavies side by side in four lines with the lead heavy at the front starboard corner of the formation.
“Take position one thousand kilometers below the formation, run on the port side. We will run a slow loop around the convoy. One rotation every two hours. Passive scanners to maximum range—I don’t need to see details, I just wa
nt to know if we have company moving in. Deploy the sensor boom tail.” Featherstone opened a ship-wide channel. “Attention ship’s company. The Resolute is now running dark. Observe all dark running protocols. Featherstone out.”
Featherstone called up the range tracker on his armrest holo-stage. Five billion kilometers to the inner system. It was going to be a slow trip.
The commander of the mining facility watched the convoy disappear from his sensors as they powered away toward the inner system. It would be another few days before the convoy returned to load up on Black Ice again. Every time they returned, a new ship was in the convoy to replace a loss. The mine was constantly being probed by small Faction ships, small speedsters dashing into sensor range to take a peek. But the defensive platforms were more than enough to send them flitting away as soon as they appeared. No Faction ships had dared come within weapons range in years. The mine was about the safest place in the Scorpio System. The commander just hoped that when he was rotated out, he could hitch a ride on an escort ship, not a heavy. If and when he made for his home in one of the cloud cities of Supra, he wanted to be sure to make it alive.
A signal appeared on the holo-stage on the command center just as he was about to turn away to finalize the departure logs for the convoy. A signal was approaching from beyond the Sphere.
He’d heard rumors of Union cruisers deployed beyond the Sphere, watching the perimeter of the system, but he expected them to be running dark. Maybe this cruiser was due some shore leave and the mine, although utilitarian, had more entertainment to offer than a cruiser’s recreation room. The mining facility had bars and virtual simulation suites offering any and all violent or relaxing activities.
The commander sent out an ident request. The defensive platform showed it was powered up and targeting the incoming signal.
“This is the commander of the mining facility. Incoming ship, send ident codes now. You are moving into range of the defensive platform. Present Union ident or the platform will open fire.”
The signal came closer. It was moving fast. The fighters on patrol swept across the facility and raced out toward the incoming signal. Then the ship came fully into sensor range. The spitz guns opened fire.
The ship was vast. The ship was Skarak.
4
Billions of kilometers from the belt, in between the orbits of Lastone and Extremis, was the lone Faction raider the Fall. The ship sat and waited for a target.
Captain Bellini was one of the Faction’s most aggressive captains. He had built a reputation for brutality. He never knowingly left Union crew alive after raiding their ships. He was admired and loathed in equal measure across the Faction. Many pirates thought it was bad business to murder so many innocents if they gave up the plunder, because it just invited Union attention, but Bellini was one of Kitzov’s top earners. His brutal approach meant he took down more Union heavies than the next best pirates combined.
Faction crews across the fleet would dare not speak his name for fear of being sent to the Fall. Others begged for a chance to join the most notorious and profitable crew in the Faction. Only the toughest, meanest, most aggressive and morally bankrupt needed apply. Many crew and troopers who thought they were built for the Fall soon found that they were not as morally flexible as they had first thought and found themselves sent back home, either in pieces or with a lung full of vacuum after being airlocked.
Bellini liked the airlock. He rarely let anyone else hit the panel to open the outer doors. He was always present at any airlocking. The price on his head went up dramatically the day he posted a vid to the Union of him airlocking an entire command deck crew of a heavy that had surrendered their vessel immediately, surely in the vain hope that an immediate surrender would give them a chance of some mercy. All it had done was anger the captain. Bellini was usually calm, normal for a psychopath, but he was particularly sadistic when angry.
It was his aggression that had him deployed out here, deep in the outer system. Alone. Lying in wait for the next Union heavy to blunder into his path.
Bellini paced up and down the flight deck. The holo-stage was active and showed the Fall’s position in the outer system. A holo-map showed an area from the orbit of Supra to the Sphere. The tiny red point of light signaled the Fall’s position. Around the Fall was a sphere showing their current sensor range.
The Fall was in good condition, one of the latest ships to float out of the Faction’s newest shipyard at a secret location in the Sphere. It was close to a ready supply of Black Ice and in a remote enough location to be almost impossible for the Union to find. Bellini had not been so close to the top of the list for a new ship, but a number of captains above him on the list had allowed him to cut in line.
One captain that took a grievance to Kitzov about the fact that Bellini was forcing his was up the list and toward the flight deck of a new, state-of-the-art, Faction raider was offered for it to be settled in the ring, an old school, bareknuckle decider of who was in the right. Captains had earned the rights to their ships in this way since way before the formation of the Faction. Kitzov was keen to maintain some traditions as he brought the ragtag group of criminal gangs and pirates under his control. A bareknuckle grievance decider seemed the perfect choice.
The captain had lost to Bellini. Lost his challenge, his place in the line to a new ship, and shortly afterwards, he had lost his command to a bold young trooper who had taken the ship from its captain in the old way. The captain had taken the only course open to him at that time: an honorable retirement. He activated an electron blade at the side of his head.
And Bellini made his way to the next in line, and the next raider to be finished was awarded to him.
Bellini paced around the flight deck, glancing at the holo-stage. He did not like waiting, he was not good at it. It was frustrating and it was possibly why, he reasoned when in a reflective mood, he killed his victims—just out of frustration at having waited. But there was no reason for Bellini’s behavior. He was a psychopath, a coldblooded killer, and he enjoyed it.
The punching bag that hung to one side of the Fall’s flight deck was wrapped with silver tape that was frayed and worn. Bellini stepped up and delivered a rapid flurry of punches, all short jabs. He held his fist out for his weapons controller to see the blood on his scarred knuckles.
“The blood keeps them tough,” Bellini said. He kissed his bloody knuckle. “If you can’t win a fight with these—” He stood in front of Ramil, the Fall’s weapons controller. “—you can’t win with any weapon.” He marched up and down the flight deck. “Beat a man to death with these—” He held out his bloody fist for Perov, the pilot, to see. “—and you will know how alive you are. There is nothing like the feel of a skull collapsing beneath your fist. It is life.”
“When we capture our next heavy,” Ramil said, “we should run a knuckle tournament. Like for like. You take their captain, I’ll take their weapons officer. I reckon even Perov would knuckle up this time.”
“For krav sake, Ramil,” Perov protested, “I didn’t fight that pilot that time because he was a cripple, and you know it. Only the Union would put a no-legged freak like that in a pilot’s seat. Should have killed the freak and done it a favor.”
Ramil laughed. “You should have kicked it to death.”
“And if I had, you’d all be saying I only won because I was fighting a crip.” Perov shook his head. “It would have been better if they had airlocked the freak than let it live on. But I took on that Union Marine, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. He was a big bastard.” Ramil laughed. “He beat your ass good. You were an ugly bastard before he carved your face up. Maybe get another Marine to beat your face and it might straighten it out.”
“I gave that Marine everything. Bit his ear right off, didn’t I? I’d like to see you take on someone bigger than you for a change. You just check out the opposition and if it’s some Union farm kid, fresh out of tactical college and manning the weps for the first time, you are all like,
‘hey captain, let’s challenge them to knucks before we airlock them all.’”
“Okay, I’ll call it now,” Ramil said. “I’ll take on two of their flight crew. You pick them, I’ll fight them. And you can dodge having to fight again.”
“I never dodge a fight. If captain says it’s knucks, I’ll do it. That Marine knocked out a tooth before I went down. Did I complain? No, I went in for more, and I’d keep going in until one of us went down for good.”
Ramil laughed. “For a little guy, you like to talk big.”
“Yeah, I’ll talk. I’ve got credits to back it up too if you want to add some flavor.”
“Sure,” Ramil said. “Pick the two biggest Marines and whoever can stand up to them longest wins the pot.”
“Sure.” Perov stood up from his seat and went to shake on the deal.
“There won’t be knucks on this one,” Bellini said. He shoved Perov back into his pilot’s seat. “There won’t be no plunder neither. The next freighter we see is going down in flames. We don’t board her, take captives, no plunder, no knucks, no nothing. Get me?”
“What a waste, though, Cap,” Ramil said. “Just to destroy the thing. It will probably be loaded with Ice, more besides, and Union scum for us to airlock.”
“Are you kravin thick in the head, Ramil?” Bellini said, striding across the deck toward the weapons console.
“No, Cap, it just seems wrong to just destroy it.”
“Kitzov said destroy it, so we destroy it. If I tell you to destroy it, you will. Get me?”
“Yes, Cap,” Ramil said, his head turned away from Bellini, who was leaning in close.
“Why do you want to listen to Kitzov anyway, boss?” Perov said. “If you challenged him, you could take him down. You’d be Leader of the Faction.”
Invasion (Blue Star Marines Book 3) Page 3
