“Ensign Carlisle,” Cason said with a smile as he took a seat at the table.
“It’s Captain Carlisle.” The man turned to display the insignia on his shoulder. “Show some respect.”
“A captain?” Cason shook his old roommate’s hand. “If they only knew what I knew.”
Carlisle laughed. “You should have stayed in. People would be saluting you by now, too.”
“Fleet life was never for me. Too much excitement.” Cason ordered a beer from the waiter and pointed out the viewport. “Which bird is yours?”
“The Adwa,” he said.
“What’s she doing here?” Cason asked. “Shouldn’t you all be out fleeting around the galaxy?”
Carlisle smirked. “I’m actually here to talk to you.”
Cason looked outside once more. “Are you sure you brought enough ships?”
“It’s good to see you, Cason, but I’m going to get right to the point. We know you’re working for Thurgood,” the captain said.
“Lots of people work for him. He owns several of the largest companies in the galaxy.”
“Right. But we know you’re his problem solver, so I’m sure you’re more than aware of what’s happening on that shithole Shandor.”
The waiter returned with the beer, set it down and moved on to the next table.
“I’ve heard a little bit about it. Don’t you think we should at least have all those ships pointed the other way?” Cason asked.
“We’re on standby.” The captain held up his glass to show he was drinking water. He set the glass down. “But they wanted me to talk to you and make sure that you’re not thinking about doing anything stupid. Are you?”
Cason shook his head. “Not me. I stopped doing stupid things a long time ago.”
“How about your boss?”
Cason shrugged. “He doesn’t tell me everything.”
The captain shifted his stool closer to Cason’s and lowered his voice. “Listen, Maze. They aren’t telling us everything about what happened, but what little they have told us scares the piss out of me. We don’t know who these people are, where they come from or, the scariest part, how they kept an interstellar empire secret from us for so long. The fleet is here...” He looked around before continuing. “…because people are scared. And rightfully so. They took down the Peacebringer, Cason. Our flagship. In an instant. And we have no idea how they did it.”
“I doubt the answer is to be found here at the Michael Bay.”
Carlisle smiled. “Don’t do it, Maze. Whatever you’re about to do, it’s not worth it. The kid finally got himself in over his head. You’ve got to be tired of rescuing him by now anyway.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Cason said. “It has its perks.”
“Thurgood,” Carlise said with a laugh. “The spoiled brat of the EAF. It’s unbelievable that he’s the bargaining chip. Most everyone that’s served under him would gladly look the other way and let this Righteous Empire have both him and Shandor.”
“What about the rest of his crew?” Cason asked.
Carlisle stared at the empty glass in his hand. “Yeah, there is that. But I’m afraid it’s out of our hands for the moment. And it’s out of your hands entirely.”
“Let’s just be clear, Captain. What were you sent here to tell me?”
“Officially? Don’t do anything stupid that would put the lives of Alliance citizens at risk. The Alliance cannot allow you to take the risk.”
“Unofficially?” Cason asked.
The captain stood up and tossed enough on the table to cover the water and the beer. “I think it’s only fair for you to know that the Fleet has been authorized to do anything it has to to prevent this situation from getting worse. I’m telling you as an old friend. Don’t test them, Cason.”
Cason nodded and smiled at his old schoolmate. “It was good seeing you, Tom.”
“You, too, Maze,” the captain said as he got to his feet. He put a hand on Cason’s shoulder. “Safe journeys.”
“You, too, Tom.”
Cason stayed at the table, nursed the beer and stared out the viewport at the planet below. The presence of a new force was going to change everything. Earth and most of the known worlds had been at peace for longer than he could remember. The people down there had no idea what was coming for them.
He left the beer unfinished and moved back into the crowd. It was still chaos, but at least the other travelers knew where they were supposed to be going. He wasn’t sure what his next step was until a fur-covered hand slammed down on his shoulder.
“Cason Maze?” It was a growly voice that sounded like a cartoon character that represented an upset stomach in an antacid commercial, and it was coming from at least two feet above him.
Cason glanced up at what he first assumed to be a paw and followed it up a plaid flannel sleeve to an equally shaggy face. The creature’s eyes expressed intelligence but, at the moment, they weren’t thinking anything particularly bright. The face was almost human but for the fur and a bit of a muzzle for a mouth.
“You Maze?” The creature growled again.
“Probably,” Cason said.
The alien looked him up and down and gave a disapproving grunt. “Follow me.”
The hairy giant moved around Cason and started walking down the terminal hall.
Cason didn’t move and the beast soon realized he was walking alone. He gave Cason a puzzled look. “You coming?”
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to need a pretty good reason to follow you anywhere.”
The alien trudged back to Cason. He leaned forward, towering over the human. “What did you say?”
“You see, I’ve fallen for the furry giant trap before and it took me forever to get the hair off my suit. So, if you want me to follow you anywhere, I’m going to need a damn good reason… or a leash.”
“All right. How’s this?” The alien put a hairy digit in the man’s chest and began barking softly. “Because I said so. Because if you don’t, I’ll rip off your favorite arm. And then I’ll take that arm and start a band called Me and Some Asshole’s Arm. And we’ll tour the worlds. And become famous. But your stupid arm will never rank more than second billing. It will grow bitter with time and eventually leave the act to strike out on its own. And everyone will forget it. Until one day it turns up on some backwater planet with a needle in it because drugs were the only way it would ever feel fulfilled after reaching the height of fame because without me, it was just some asshole’s arm and everybody knew it. Deep down, even your stupid arm knew it.”
The giant leaned over and snarled in Cason’s face.
“And?” Cason prompted.
The giant growled, “And, because I’m Oncilla’s first mate and she told me to come get you.”
Cason smiled. “That is a good reason.”
He soon discovered that moving through a crowd was much easier when you had a seven and a half foot tall bear dressed like a lumberjack leading the way. The crowd parted to let the pair through and the first mate soon turned down a hallway that led toward a private bay. There was less traffic here and the further they went down the hallway, the less crowded it became.
“So how did you find yourself on Oncilla’s crew?” Cason asked to make conversation. The first mate wasn’t interested and growled at the question. “Okay, I’ll just assume crime still pays fairly well then.”
“I don’t do this for money,” the first mate snapped.
“Oh? Just love the uniform then? Big fan of plaid are we?”
“I do this for my own reasons. For honor. Something you would never understand. I owe. And that’s reason enough.”
It was explanation enough. The Gardwah was a race that still believed in life debts. It wasn’t a rare custom by any stretch. Many races practiced it before first contact with the Alliance. And while many still honored the tradition, they found settling in cash a much more convenient way to handle the situation. The FORGAX exchange now included the going rate on life de
bt to cash exchanges and was updated by the minute. It made things simpler. But the Gardwah were as stubborn as they were hairy and refused to give up the tradition.
“It must be kind of frustrating owing a life debt to someone so capable of saving themselves.”
“It is a debt I gladly pay,” the Gardwah said. “Being near her is reward enough.”
“Oh, I get it. Stuck in the friend zone, huh?”
The Gardwah grunted again and stuck out a hairy arm to point them down a jetway that led to a private docking berth.
They hadn’t walked far when a scream reached their ears and sent the pair running down the hallway. Over their footsteps they heard the sound of an attack: swearing, insults, agony and the sound of a fist smacking against something wet.
It was a man that was screaming. But he had a good reason. His shoulder had been dislocated and he was stumbling down the ramp of a ship with a bloody nose and several teeth dangling out of his mouth. He stumbled a short distance before collapsing in a heap next to a pile of other men.
Cason recognized the man on the top of the pile as one of the intruders from the hotel.
There was still something happening inside the ship and both Cason and the Gardwah raced through the station’s airlock into the craft. A large alien that Maze didn’t recognize was behind Priscilla with an arm across her throat. Another alien was coming at her with a knife.
Priscilla used the alien’s forearm to pull her feet in the air. She kicked the knife-wielding alien in the face and sent him to the ground. When she came back down, she tucked her legs and hurled the alien over her back and out the door of the spacecraft.
Cason stepped aside just in time to let the man pass by on his way to the pile of bodies.
The alien landed near the pile as the woman grabbed the unconscious knifeman by the collar and lifted him from the ground like it was nothing.
“Go ahead, big guy,” Cason said, and elbowed the Gardwah in the ribs. “Get in there and save her.”
“Oncilla!” the hairy alien shouted. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine G’Har,” she said as she dragged the unmoving alien to the airlock and dropped him on the pile with the rest. “Could you please help these gentlemen out of the airlock so we can be on our way?”
“Of course, Oncilla,” G’Har said, and moved quickly to comply.
She turned her attention to Cason and opened her arms to present the ship. “Welcome aboard the Ratel.”
Cason pointed to the mound of thugs as the Gardwah dropped another one on the pile. “I thought you said all of this wasn’t going to be a problem.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” Priscilla said dusting off her hands. “So, I see you’ve met G’Har.”
“I did,” Cason said, and smiled at the Gardwah. “He’s an ass.”
G’Har gave him the finger and moved past the pair into the bowels of the ship’s engine room.
“Yeah, but he’s a big, scary, loyal ass. That’s good to have around.” She gestured for Cason to follow her. “Now if you’ll please come with me, we can be on our way.”
He followed her through the Ratel, a late model, mid-sized pleasure craft whose opulence rivaled Harius Thurgood’s own personal star yacht. Fine upholstery, wood finishes and a hundred exotic materials from exoplanets defined luxury on Earth-based ships, and the Ratel wasn’t short on any of them.
Cason ran his finger along a polished plank of Valsuvian Merwood. “Nice ship.”
“Expecting something seedier?” she asked.
“I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe something a little more low-key?”
“Do you know what the most luxurious item in the universe is, Mr. Maze?”
Cason shrugged. He wasn’t going to venture a guess. He figured it was a trick question.
“It’s time, Mr. Maze,” she said. “Tastes change, rare becomes commonplace and exotic becomes familiar but, all throughout history, time has been the one constant luxury. That’s why you’ll find the fastest drivecores in the galaxy on the most expensive ships. Ships like this.”
“So, it has nothing to do with an onboard wine cellar?”
Priscilla held her hand with her thumb and finger only millimeters apart and smiled. She turned and walked to the cockpit. “I won’t say I hate the amenities. But it is mostly for the speed. The only thing that can even touch her are Alliance fighters.”
“Really?” Cason said as he stepped into the cockpit and looked out the viewscreen. “Like those?”
Two Earth Alliance Force Fighters had taken up a position off the yacht’s bow just outside the hanger. They were heavily armed and pointed right at them. The Ratel’s screen showed the obstruction from several perspectives as cameras on the ship and from the hangar covered the encounter from all angles.
They were an older fighter—as most were—but they were formidable enough to stop a yacht. Three massive sub-light engines gave them the speed Priscilla had referenced. Six wings provided hardpoints for a variety of weaponry. They were little more than weapons and engines. Even the cockpit appeared an afterthought as the pilot seemed almost strapped to the front of a well-armed asterisk.
The Ratel’s comm panel lit up as the Alliance ships addressed them, “Star Craft Sweet Princess.”
“Sweet Princess?” Cason asked. “What happened to the Ratel?”
“I haven’t had a chance to register the new name yet. I mean, give me a break, I haven’t even technically finished stealing it.”
“Stealing it?”
She shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
The fighter pilot continued. “Power down and prepare to be boarded.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Priscilla said, and sat down at the command console. Her fingers danced across the panel as she started digging through files at an almost impossible rate. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Except steal this yacht,” Cason said.
“Not yet.” She stopped on a file and opened it up. “I can’t believe this. Raschnida told on me.”
“Who’s Raschnida?”
“That guy from the hotel. The big one. He’s a local crime lord. He’s into just about everything dirty, dangerous or downright disgusting. I never would have taken him for a tattletale though.”
“No honor amongst thieves?” Cason asked.
“It would seem so.”
The fighters were issuing more orders but she cut the sound and yelled into the back of the ship. “G’Har! Is she ours yet?”
“You have a plan, I take it,” Cason said.
“I do.” Priscilla took the pilot’s seat and began fastening the harness. “You’re going to love it. It’s elegant, refined and they are never going to see it coming.”
Cason fastened his own harness. “We’re going to make a run for it, aren’t we?”
“We are going to make a run for it,” she confirmed. “It’s just too bad these aren’t better armed. Something called the Ratel should have more bite, don’t you think.”
“I don’t want to throw a wrench into your plan, but I’m going to have to insist that you don’t do anything that might put my company at odds with the EAF.”
“What’s that mean? You can’t mean shooting?”
“I’m afraid not.” Thurgood’s fortune could provide a lot of cover. And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Maze had to operate in a gray area of the law. But the death of Earth Alliance personnel would be an unforgivable transgression. Even for the richest man in the galaxy.
“Fine,” she said. “Not a problem. That’s just going to make it slightly more impossible. But as it was impossible to begin with, I don’t think it should matter all that much.”
“Well, that is a relief.”
“Oncilla?” G’Har’s voice was no friendlier through a comm speaker. “The Ratel is yours.”
“So easy,” she said.
Cason pointed at the fighter outside the screen. The massive barrel mounted beneath its nose was beginning to spin. “I
t looks like they are done talking.”
Priscilla grabbed the control stick and engaged the thrusters in one motion. The Ratel twisted onto its side and shot between the two fighters just as their cannons opened up.
Cason was thankful he’d strapped in. The movement was still sudden, though, and he struggled to find his orientation as they spun. He tried to focus on the screen.
The camera on the hangar gave him his first glimpse of the Ratel from the outside. There was an endless number of ship designs in the galaxy, and the more money one had to spend, the more outlandish the designs could be. Some of the off-world manufacturers produced ships that made it near impossible to tell the front from the back from the side. But the Ratel was an Earth design and, like many, had evolved from shipbuilding traditions. This craft seemed to be inspired by the larger catamarans as it had eschewed the blocky, cargo-like construction of many ships and was wider and longer than it was tall.
Another camera showed the berth they had just occupied as it was riddled with fire from the AEF fighters.
“What did I say?” Cason shouted at the destruction.
“I didn’t shoot.”
He could hear a smile in her voice.
“Blame the fighters!”
The Ratel sped for the outskirts of the Michael Bay and was almost in the clear when the rest of the Alliance fleet scrambled. The larger ships were moving to intercept her and launching their own fighters to assist those from the station.
The woman at the controls just sighed and increased her speed.
Cason wasn’t even sure what happened or even if he saw it all. But he felt every twist and turn in his stomach as the dampers struggled to keep up with the smuggler’s maneuvers. It was like nothing he had ever seen. No wonder she had proven so hard to catch.
Even through the thickest clutch of fighters, she was able to find a path in the much larger Ratel.
The fleet pilots did their best to block the craft but by the time they corrected their path to intercept her, she was already changing direction. The longer it went on, the bigger the gaps between the ships grew. The more she moved the more they spread to let her through. That couldn’t be possible, but it was as if it was by design.
Shattered Alliance Page 8
