“Commodore Tecumseh,” he greeted James. “We are in control of Ocean Dreams but the situation here remains…irritating.”
“Irritating isn’t a tactical assessment I’m familiar with,” the flag officer replied. “What’s going on?”
Barbados sighed.
“The crew understand the reality of the situation and are cooperating,” he explained. “I’ve removed them all from the bridge and we’re running with a prize crew here, but Engineering is still mostly their people.
“The passengers, however, are the worst collection of rich idiots I’ve ever had the displeasure of interacting with, and don’t seem to understand that they are prisoners and we’re not going to wait on them hand and foot the way Dreams’ crew did.”
“It is an interstellar tourist liner,” James pointed out. “Are we going to have a problem?”
“Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing Dreams has a good doctor,” Barbados said grimly. “My people didn’t board with electron lasers, sir. At least a dozen civilians had close and personal introductions to rifle butts, but there don’t appear to be any permanent injuries.”
“Good. Are you getting the stunners issued?” The pulsed electron laser was the twenty-eighth-century version of a taser, a ranged weapon that used a focused beam of electricity to achieve the same disabling shock effect.
It wasn’t a perfect nonlethal weapon. It was just better than everything else humanity had tried.
“Pulling my people back to the shuttles to swap out squad by squad,” Barbados confirmed. “There’s a few bodyguards scattered through this mess I don’t trust not to try something stupid if not watched, so we’re keeping our eyes very open.”
The Marine paused, seeming to marshal his thoughts, then asked quietly.
“What are we doing with these people, sir? They may be pricks and rich idiots, but there’s twenty thousand civilians on this ship and they don’t deserve what Coati’s people would do to them…”
“We’re not bringing them anywhere near Coati,” James said firmly. “Intelligence gave us a contact for ransoming captives back to their families and selling ships; we’re going to hand Dreams and her passengers over to him with instructions to take any offer from their families.
“We have to ransom them, because anything else makes it obvious just who we are, but we can make sure they get home while making ourselves look desperate for money,” he concluded. “We’ll pull most your people back aboard Poseidon and send Chariot with Dreams to make sure everything goes according to plan.
“Coati will get his share of the money, but his pet psychopaths aren’t getting anywhere near these people.”
Barbados nodded slowly as he considered James’s words.
“Good.”
#
Chapter 16
Antioch System
11:00 October 12, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-052 Kodiak
For a task group that had never even drilled together, they impressed Kyle with their emergence into the Antioch system. All three capital ships emerged simultaneously, in the exact same formation they’d entered FTL sixteen days beforehand.
Alexander led the way, the battlecruiser’s massive lances and missile batteries the first shield against ambush, followed by Kodiak, and then Thoth bringing up the rear. Old as two of the three ships were, it was still likely more firepower than the Antioch system had ever seen.
“We are deploying Combat Space Patrol,” Song reported calmly over the neural network. “One squadron of Falcons from Kodiak. Echo Three is standing by if we need bombers.”
“Thank you, Vice Commodore,” Kyle told her. “Sterling, what’s the system status?”
“Feeding to the tactical display now,” his aging tactical officer replied. “I’m only picking up three…maybe four FTL-capable ships, all in low orbit of Orontes. Even the in-system shipping appears to be flying under starfighter escort, though the gunships, again, are in orbit of Orontes.”
Antioch was a surprisingly sparse system. No asteroid belts, only a few comet formations, and a mere six worlds. The second world, Orontes, was a dry but habitable rock with no real oceans but a network of lakes and rivers across the planet’s surface.
Most of the in-system shipping moved from Orontes to Seleucus, the system’s outermost planet and single gas giant. Antioch was a wealthy system by Rimward standards, and there should have been an almost-steady stream of sublight clippers making the run between the fusion plants that fueled Orontes’ orbital industries and the Seleucus cloudscoops that fed those fusion plants.
Instead, clusters of fifteen to twenty ships dotted the route, each guarded by an equal number of starfighters—Federation Cobras, a last-generation design sold to Antioch under a special deal.
The system’s ten gunships, half-million-ton sublight warships built around fighter-tier acceleration and capital-ship-tier weaponry, were in high orbit of Orontes, positioned to intercept anyone going after the industrial plant or the tiny handful of A-S drive ships left.
“They’re terrified,” Sterling concluded. “How badly have they been threatened that they’re convoying shipping in their own system?”
“Six months ago, the Antioch Space Navy had two battlecruisers,” Kyle reminded his bridge crew. “Now they have none. Nebula.” He turned to the diplomat. “Anyone in particular we should be reaching out to? My brief says Admiral Belisarius.”
“I would agree,” the diplomat concurred. “I’ll reach out to some of the civilians myself, and you’ll probably be meeting with the Premier before the end of the day, but Belisarius should be our first point of contact.”
“Jamison?” Kyle asked his coms officer.
“Already on it, sir. There’s a block of Federation q-bits on their switchboard; we’ve got codes to reach them FTL.” She paused, her eyes glazing over as she communicated with her counterparts on the planet.
“I have Admiral Belisarius for you, sir,” she concluded after a moment. “He was waiting for you.”
That was…not a good sign.
“Put him through.”
Belisarius was significantly younger than Kyle had expected, appearing in his early forties at most. Unusually young to be the supreme commander of an entire star nation’s military. He was a plain-faced man, average enough to blend into any crowd, and he met Kyle’s gaze with a visible degree of relief that was almost terrifying.
“Captain Roberts, welcome to the Antioch system,” he greeted the Federation officer. “You have no idea how glad we are to see you. The last few months have been…troubling.”
“We know. We are here to help,” Kyle replied. “I have three ships under my command, one of them an Imperial ship. We will need to coordinate with you and the other Free Trade Zone ships to make certain we are covering space most efficiently.”
Belisarius closed his eyes and slumped forward.
“There won’t be much coordinating, I’m afraid,” he confessed. “We just confirmed this morning that Maasai is unsalvageable and the Istanbul Self-Defense Force lost contact with Sultan two days ago.
“We have no choice but to assume Sultan is lost, along with her convoy,” Belisarius said quietly. “There are no warships left to us for you to coordinate with, Captain Roberts, which leaves us entirely dependent on your good graces for the safety of our ships.”
Kyle inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, nodding his understanding as he did so.
“We do what we must,” he said finally. “I’ll need every scrap of intelligence you and your allies can provide, and as up-to-date information as you have on the location of every A-S freighter in the area.
“We will keep everyone safe,” he reassured the Admiral. “And when we find these bastards, we will end them.”
“Everything my people have is at your disposal and will be forwarded to your ships,” the ASN Admiral told him. “Are you in need of resupply?”
“We’ll need food and consumables if nothing else,” Kyle replied
. “We’ll enter orbit of Orontes and plan from there, Admiral. I’ll speak to you again once we’ve arrived.”
#
Four hours later, the trio of warships settled into an Orontes orbit just behind the gunship squadron and protectively above the freighters. Kyle spent most of that time in his office, reviewing the intelligence packet Belisarius had provided.
It was even worse than the Admiral or his briefing had suggested. Antioch, Istanbul and Serengeti had, between them, fielded five FTL-capable warships and thirty-four FTL-capable freighters.
All of the warships were gone. Three confirmed destroyed. Sultan missing, presumed lost. Maasai crippled when the pirates had stolen an entire passenger liner in Salvatore.
The last sent familiar shivers down Kyle’s spine. Memories of the human wreckage aboard Ansem Gulf were going to haunt his nightmares again, but there was nothing he could do for Ocean Dreams.
His door chimed, an implant code advising him that Nebula was actually being polite this time.
“Enter,” he ordered and the diplomat slipped in.
“I hate to impose,” Nebula told him, “but do you have any of that beer?”
“I tend to keep it for rewards,” Kyle told him. “But sure. Grab me one.”
“It’s that kind of day,” the diplomat slash spy agreed, pulling two beers from the fridge. “I have now spoken to our ambassador, the Imperial ambassador, our chief spy on the planet and head of the Imperial economic analysis team. Their chief spy,” he concluded, in case Kyle hadn’t guessed.
“Have you spoken to anyone from Antioch?” Kyle asked, taking the beer.
“The Premier’s secretary, the First Chancellor, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, the Minister for the Navy, the Minister for the Free Trade Zone, all of their aides, and the Premier’s ex-mistress,” Nebula reeled off.
“Busy day.”
“I like this part of my job better than others,” the diplomat replied with a smile. “But…this place is a mess, Roberts.”
“Anything I haven’t learned already?”
“It’s not just the military and economic situation, Captain,” Nebula warned. “The Free Trade Zone was always…controversial. To a certain extent, it was imposed on a number of the minor systems involved by a combination of economic and military force.
“Not everyone in those systems or in Antioch was okay with that. So long as everybody benefited, even if the core three benefited more, most people got in line.
“Now…”
“Now no one’s benefiting,” Kyle said grimly.
“Exactly. Antioch’s parliament elects one fifth of its seats each year, and the elections are in a month. Premier Yilmaz can hold his majority together if he loses basically every seat up for election, barely, but he’s up for re-election next year, and his majority won’t survive two bad years.
“Istanbul’s worse in many ways. They’re not a democracy in the strictest sense, so their replacement process is considerably more…lethal to the incumbent Sultan.”
“And Serengeti?” Kyle asked.
“Serengeti’s hard to get a handle on,” Nebula admitted. “Tricameral legislature, one elected, one appointed by the corporations, one appointed by the leaders of the original families. The corporations and the families all made a lot of money from the Zone, but… if their profits and their lives are at risk, they may pull out as well.”
“So, the entire Free Trade Zone is at risk of collapsing.”
“Exactly,” the diplomat confirmed. “And if it does, the amount of economic value the Alliance members working out here get out of the region goes down fast. We can’t let that happen, Captain.”
“Not to mention the collapse of the entire region’s economies and the attendant loss of quality of life and actual lives,” Kyle pointed out.
“Yes, that too,” Nebula agreed dismissively. “They need us, Captain. But we need them, too.
“We have a meeting with the Premier and Admiral Belisarius in an hour,” he concluded. “Dress uniform, Captain. Dig up at least some medals, if you please. I know you have them.”
“‘We’?” Kyle asked.
“You, me, the other Captains if you want them. The invitation was pretty limited.”
Kyle shook his head. Nebula probably should have checked his availability, but on the other hand, even capital ship commanders usually bent to the whims of heads of state.
“All right, Nebula.”
#
Chapter 17
Antioch System
17:00 October 12, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
Orontes, City of Antakya
Antakya had been built on the plain between where two of Orontes’s largest rivers converged into the planet’s single largest river. The city didn’t have beaches in the traditional sense, but there were expanses of stunningly violet sand stretching along the interior of both rivers to provide entertainment for Antakya’s citizenry.
The same purplish stone that the rivers had ground down into the sand had been incorporated into the construction of the city itself. Orontes’s citizens had kept most of their heavy industry in orbit, and whatever was left was far away from their capital, building Antakya from the beginning as a center of display and pride.
The Antioch system might be desperately poor by Castle Federation standards, but they were still wealthy by Rimward standards… and poverty on a planetary scale could still allow for pockets of wealth and grandeur.
And Kyle had to admit that Antakya was grand. Broad boulevards lined with imported Earth palms cut through the city toward a central square and immense purple marble fountain in front of the planetary parliament building. Every business, apartment building and home fronting on those boulevards had clearly been built to a very specific esthetic, and well maintained since.
Experience told him that even Antakya likely had more run-down areas, but the road from the spaceport to the center of government ran down what he suspected was the most carefully maintained boulevard in the city.
The Antioch System government had sent open-topped cars to pick him and his captains up, a surprisingly vulnerable form of transportation, given the paranoia visible off-world.
The drivers were clearly linked in to security channels, though, and he caught at least one glimpse of low-flying aircraft hovering above them. He suspected they weren’t nearly as unprotected as they looked—and the open-topped cars allowed the slowly gathering crowd to look at the occupants of the three vehicles.
Kyle was aware of his reputation and certainly unafraid to use it as a tool, but it was still a shock to realize that literally thousands of people were coming out to watch, to get a chance of seeing the Stellar Fox.
To get a chance to see the man they thought would save their world.
#
Premier Sukil Yilmaz was a squat man, almost overflowing out of his saffron suit, with a shaven head and hands heavy with jewels and rings. Standing next to Admiral Belisarius, however, Kyle could see a clear familial resemblance—cousins, he guessed, which potentially explained the Admiral’s surprising youth for his role.
“Come in, Captains, come in,” Yilmaz greeted them in an oily voice. “I’ll have Jess pull together some refreshments. Any preferences?”
“Water, please,” Kyle said instantly, setting a hard limit for his people. He could have a beer and still work, but he suspected they needed to be on the top of their game…and that Yilmaz would happily get them very drunk.
“Of course, of course,” Yilmaz allowed with a wave of a bejeweled hand. “Jess, water and baklava for our guests.”
The woman in question turned out to be an almost disturbingly young attractive woman in a tight-fitting green dress and headscarf. She emerged through a swinging door with a platter of glasses and small plates of pastries moments after the premier gave the order.
“I know Recep has already told you this,” he said to Kyle, waving at Admiral Belisarius, “but we are unimaginably grateful that you are here. These atta
cks have grown beyond anything we can deal with. We’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Few have,” Kyle replied. “Interstellar piracy is rare. We see in-system piracy far more often, but that’s readily supressed outside the poorest of star systems.”
“This group—we believe it is a single group,” Yilmaz admitted, “has been growing for some time. We think their first raid was almost a decade ago, but…ships are lost to many causes.”
“We think they used the Class One manipulators from their first prizes to build their corsair ships,” Belisarius noted. “We have…minimal information on them, but none of the vessels we’ve confirmed appeared to be A-S capable in their own right.”
“But they’re definitely moving between systems?” Kyle asked.
“Indeed. The ships are too big to be carried but too small to make FTL on their own,” the Admiral confirmed. “We believe they may be using manipulators on multiple ships to create a single A-S bubble.”
Kyle sat back and sipped his water, surprised.
“I’ll have to check with my engineers,” he said slowly. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Neither did our Captains, Captain Roberts, neither did our Captains,” Yilmaz said bitterly. “And now many of those Captains, both civilian and military, are gone. These pirates have shed much blood and stolen much treasure, and we find ourselves at the limits of the stability of the alliance my predecessors put together and I have sustained.”
He spread his hands wide, rings clinking against each other.
“We have truly, truly reached the ends of our own resources, so we have called to your nations for aid,” he concluded. “The trade between our systems and the Federation and Imperium has benefited us both, but it cannot continue if our starways are plagued by pirates!”
“Of course, Premier Yilmaz,” Nebula interjected. “That is why Captain Roberts and his people are here. The Castle Federation does not make promises we cannot keep.”
Rimward Stars (Castle Federation Book 5) Page 12
