Rising Star

by Donald Nicklas

  “Sparks, put the message through,” Lorenzo ordered when arriving on the bridge.

  The communications tech pressed a few buttons and the bridge speakers came to life. First there was a mechanical voice stating, “Message from scout vessel NR Gladius, Captain Alaya Slone commanding to Captain Juan Lorenzo, commander of the 10th Legion. Message follows.” Now they could hear Alaya Slone’s voice, “Captain Lorenzo. I sent this capsule ahead due to the importance of our findings. The missing eight dreadnoughts have rejoined the Sinclair Mobile Fleet and that fleet is now at full strength. Captain Alaya Slone, out.” The mechanical voice came on again, “Message ended. Reference code NRG 3248702.” The message then terminated.

  Slone and Lorenzo looked at each other. “Well this changes things a bit. We will have to game the battle again with the new information,” Lorenzo said. “I would like to wait until the Gladius is back before changing our plans. At least time is no longer an issue. We don’t have to attack anymore before the missing dreadnoughts return.”

  Slone took little comfort in that. He knew their job just became a whole lot harder. He returned to the Rising Star and filled in the bridge crew on the new development. With eight more dreadnoughts and their added cannons, it was going to be a tough and costly fight. He knew now for sure they would be boarded and this made it even more imperative to cut a deal with the mercenaries. He definitely wanted to wait until they were in the last slipstream before talking with the mercenaries. This way they had no escape if they tried to break out of the guarded area. Slone called Bill Marshal, Jack Dalton and Lt. Col. Teplov to the bridge. He informed them of the additions to the enemy fleet. All but Centurion Marshal were downtrodden when they heard this information. Slone then told them what he planned to do about the mercenaries. Larisa Teplov was concerned about hiring the mercenaries, but both Dalton and Centurion Marshal thought the plan sound. Especially, Bill Marshal who was concerned that he would not have enough serpents to defend a ship this size. As they were waiting for the Gladius to return, they discussed how to best repel boarders. If the marines from only one dreadnought board the ship, then there should be no problem, as each serpent was worth at least three humans. The problem was Sinclair Corp knew how big this ship was. Once they realized it was now an enemy, they would be wise to send boarding parties from at least three dreadnoughts. Both Dalton and Teplov were very involved in defending the ship. Since Dalton had accomplished his mission and Larisa Teplov had to wait to do hers, they both decided not to sit this out. Both of them wanted to see how well the Romani fought. Both of their corporations depended on it.

  Five hours into their boarding defense preparation, the klaxon started to sound throughout the ship. Then over the ship-wide intercom came Paul McMann’s voice, “Captain to the bridge. General quarters this is not a drill.” Slone, Dalton and Teplov were on one of the gun decks when battle stations were called. They ran back up to the bridge, dodging serpents on their way to their battle stations. As usual, the serpents treated the humans as if they were just local fauna underfoot. Slone always marveled at how intense serpents got when they had a mission. Bill Marshal ran to his battle station, which was with the four centuries of serpents from the eighth cohort. These were his special forces and would be expected to meet the first onslaught of any boarding party. Some of these serpents were survivors of the hatchery battle as they defended the hatchery during the serpent civil war. Marshal’s reputation among the serpents was so great, that they vied for the honor of being in his group.

  As soon as Slone arrived on the bridge he looked at Paul McMann, “Paul, what’s happening?”

  “Captain, sensors indicate multiple large ships coming out of the slipstream. Captain Lorenzo ordered the fleet to battle condition.”

  Slone looked at Roger Umgabe, “Roger, any indication who they are?”

  “Masses indicate multiple dreadnought sized ships entering from the direction of the Border Worlds.”

  “Are they ours?”

  Roger looked at the figures, “Mass readings are light for Romani dreadnoughts. Their masses indicate corporate sized dreadnoughts.”

  Slone gave that some thought. “Why would corporate dreadnoughts be coming from that direction?”

  “Captain, Telemetry is now coming in. They are Petrov Corp dreadnoughts. Captain Abramov must be back.”

  Tom Gardner interrupted, “Captain, the fleet is ordered to secure from general quarters and it is becoming visible.”

  “Very well, secure from general quarters. Since we can’t become invisible, we will just stay the way we are. Roger, how many dreadnoughts did Captain Abramov bring with him?”

  “Eight, sir.”

  “We are back to the original balance then. This is going to be one mother of a battle. I just hope our plan works.”

  “Captain Lorenzo just called for a meeting on the Longinus for tomorrow at 1000 hours. That should be an hour after the arrival of the Petrov fleet. Also, there is a private message for us. Ex-Admiral Igor Perminov is also with the fleet. Ian MacDougal gave him leave as New Wales ambassador to help with the liberation of his own people.”

  “Send a message to Captain Abramov and to Ambassador Perminov welcoming the Petrovian fleet back home.”

  “Yes, captain.”

  The next morning, as the ship captains and the new arrivals gathered on the Longinus along with the primary centurions, the Gladius arrived and Slone met them in the hangar and escorted his wife up to the conference room.

  As soon as Igor Perminov saw Chris and Alaya enter he said, “Ah, the Captains Slone. How good it is to see you again. This time we will fight on the same side.”

  “Indeed we will, Igor. And I suspect we will share a fine vodka or two when it is over,” Christopher said.

  “I would like nothing better, my friend. Especially back in my home on Petrovia. I love my life on Nova Romae, but my blood cries for the freedom of my home world.”

  The meeting discussed the plans for dealing with the large Sinclair Mobile Fleet and the Petrov fleet captains were brought up to date with the state of plans. They had nothing to add, since the Romani had spent a lot of time on the plans. Fortunately, when the Petrovian dreadnoughts were refitted, they also received serpents and the electronics needed for invisibility. After the initial surprise on the part of the Petrovian personnel, they got used to working with the serpents rather quickly. Finally, all was ready and the fleet went invisible as the Rising Star led the way to the outbound slipstream to begin the liberation of Petrovia. Captain Lorenzo had given permission to hire the mercenaries.

  Chapter 13 – The Battle of Petrovia

  Admiral Frank Wilson was asleep in his quarters. He had his usual excessive amount of bourbon the night before and was sleeping it off. He had seen his share of death during his career, but when Horatio Sinclair suddenly shot Alexi Petrov right next to him, something changed inside Frank Wilson. His family had a long history of service to the corporation. Moreover, he was happy to do his duty and honored to have achieved the rank of Admiral, but with one event, Horatio Sinclair had culminated years of change the Admiral saw in his CEO. About fifteen years ago, something changed in Sinclair. He became more driven and he started focusing on something in the Bickle system. Frank Wilson was one of the few to notice the change. His daughters didn’t, not the four who spent their time partying nor the best one of all, Alaya, who actually worked and cared about the people living in corporate space. Now Alaya was gone, and he still was not sure what really happened to her. He did know there were no scouting missions in the area she was supposed to have died. After her death, it all became very muddled. First, there was the invasion of Balin Corp through the surrogate Petrov Corp. Then there was the invasion of Petrov Corp as a punishment for failure. Sinclair was certain the invasion would be wrapped up in six months and here they were, four years later, and the planet was not completely secured. Alexi Petrov may have been a fool, but his forces were tough and could operate autonomously. Frank Wilson’s caree
r was going to end here, that much he knew. Dispatches from the home world made it clear the corporation was very disappointed in his performance. He was surprised that a replacement did not arrive with the returning dreadnoughts. He was tossing and turning in his bed with a splitting headache when the klaxon went off and the speakers transmitted “Battle Stations, Battle Stations.”

  Admiral Wilson got out of bed and put on a uniform. He then made his way to the bridge as personnel ran past him, trying to salute and make it to their battle stations at the same time. When he entered the bridge, everyone saluted and went back to managing their stations. Captain Wainwright was already in the captain’s chair. “Alfred, what’s happening?” the admiral asked.

  “Sensor’s have picked up a very large mass entering from the Spinward slipstream. It may be a ship, but the signals are confused by what we think are a few asteroids in the area, crossing the slipstream.”

  Before Admiral Wilson could ask another question, the sensor tech interrupted, “Captain, telemetry is coming in, and the ship that came through the slipstream is the Rising Star.”

  Captain and admiral looked at each other. They knew this was their Q-Ship, but it was not expected back for another month, unless it accomplished its mission first. This could be the good news they had been waiting for. If the space arm of the resistance was finally eliminated, that would demoralize the resistance on the planet and this nightmare could finally be over.

  The admiral looked over to the communications tech, “Any communications yet? How long is the lag?”

  “Round trip is just over two hours,” the tech said, then put a hand to her ear, “Sir, incoming message from the Rising Star.”

  “Put it on speaker.”

  “Sir, it is text only.”

  The bridge crew all looked at each other. Text only was a rarity; it usually meant they were concerned with being overheard. Something was wrong.

  “Project it on the HUD,” Captain Wainwright ordered.

  The text appeared on the front window of the bridge bubble. It read as follows:

  “Rising Star to the Sinclair Mobile Fleet. The last Petrov cruiser has been eliminated. In the final battle, we took some major damage with a few civilian casualties. We thought it best to bring the civilians with us, since they now know we were not taking out drones. Communications are still down so we are limited to text only. We are not sure if we can receive voice and visual, since we have been out of communication. Until we have repaired the damage, we are limited to text only. Captain Meigs out.”

  “That is the end of the message, sir.”

  The captain and the admiral looked at each other. “At least they finished their mission. We will have to wait until they actually arrive to get the full report. As soon as we have proof that the Petrov fleet is destroyed, I want that transmitted across Petrovia. That will demoralize the remaining resistance ground forces. Then we will destroy them. I don’t want any prisoners, they have caused us enough trouble,” Admiral Wilson stated.

  No one objected to that order, since it was usual in corporate wars to kill all members of the resistance when the parent corporation declared the invasion a success. The fact that it has been far from a success never bothers the vice president of military actions. “How long before the Rising Star enters orbit?”

  The navigator responded, “Transit time is still seven hours, captain.”

  “Very well, notify me when they are in orbit.”

  “Yes, captain.”

  Both the captain and the admiral returned to their respective quarters. Captain Wainwright decided to get some more rest with hopes this orbital boredom was finally ending. Admiral Wilson went to his quarters and had some bourbon to help with his endless headache. On every ship in the fleet, there was calm and boredom. Calm was a good thing in the military, but boredom led to inactivity and that led to mistakes. That was why the Romani never stopped training. It was a constant routine. The corporate military was much more lax when it came to preparedness. Among the Sinclair forces, there was a sense of invincibility; that they were the greatest of all the corporations, so there was little for them to fear. Fear was about to pay a visit. The Rising Star glided silently and majestically into the Sinclair Fleet formation on her way to orbit. Had the bridge crews of the various ships been a little more observant, they might have noticed that the angle at which the ship approached orbit was too high. The Rising Star would not enter orbit, instead she passed the outer line of destroyers and came abreast of the orbits of the cruisers. Suddenly all of the gun and missile ports of the Q-Ship opened and 84 cannons fired from the sides, front and back of the ship. These were followed by 32 missiles leaping from all sides of the ship towards the unsuspecting fleet. Hellfire was about to descend onto the Sinclair Mobile Fleet.

  The day before the arrival of the Rising Star into the Petrovia system, the battleship was leading the way to the outbound slipstream. Transit to the slipstream was five hours and they passed rapidly with the anticipation of action ahead. The attack plan was actually rather simple. When they reached the slipstream, the Rising Star would enter first, followed by the rest of the fleet. The fleet would remain invisible and the Rising Star would slow her transit through the Petrovia system long enough for the fleet to move ahead and into position. The battleship would enter the enemy formation as a friend and then open her gun and missile ports. This would be followed by a volley of both weapons into the fleet. The serpent gunners were unbelievably fast in reloading the cannons. Slone had never seen humans able to accomplish that task faster. As soon as the first shots were fired, the fleet would become visible and commence their attack. The destroyers would remain invisible and harass the enemy fleet with missiles as they did in the battle over New Wales. The battle plan was sound, and with the addition of the Petrov dreadnoughts, they had a good chance of success as long as they got in the first shot. When the battleship reached the slipstream, she stopped and deployed her sails. There were three frill sails and a push sail. Slone was in the captain’s chair and his wife and Tavia were standing with him, along with Hatch, who had nothing to do on the battleship. Once the sails were polarized, the ship moved rapidly forward and breached the speed of light. In front of them was a solid wall of white light and behind utter darkness.

  “Paul, what is our speed and slipstream time?”

  Paul McMann did some calculations. “Speed is 1.8 light years per hour and our time in the slipstream will be 10 hours and 15 minutes.”

  “Order the ship to slipstream rest and keep only a very minimal crew active. Tell all the others, including the serpents to get some rest. Hatch, pass that word along to those serpents who do not yet know our language.”

  “Sss. Yes captain.” Hatch bolted out of the bridge door to pass the word along.

  “Tavia and Alaya, come with me.” Slone left the bridge with his wife and Tavia. They went down into the bowels of the ship, two decks below the gun decks. This area was occupied by the serpents guarding the mercenary prisoners and the prisoners themselves. He could see that the mercenaries were getting used to the presence of the serpents and the latter were keeping them in line with their soothing human speak. Centurion Marshal was also present, since he spent most of his time training his serpent centuries. When he saw his wife, he flashed Tavia a smile. They would be spending their honeymoon in battle. Slone had a feeling that is exactly where they would prefer to spend it.

  Slone went over to the large hold wherein the fifteen hundred mercenary prisoners were being kept. He had a small box brought over to stand on. When the prisoners saw him, they knew something was up. Slone had communications route his communicator to the speakers in the room. “Attention Sinclair mercenaries. I am Captain Christopher Slone and I have a proposition for you. This ship will soon be entering battle against the Sinclair Mobile Fleet. We are now in the slipstream that will lead us into the Petrovia system where the fleet is located. I expect this ship will be boarded, therefore I am offering you a contract to defend this ship.
In return you will receive a half ton of gold.”

  There was a lot of murmuring as the mercenaries started looking at each other and discussing the matter. As usual among humans, 1500 mercenaries had more than 1500 opinions. After allowing them to talk among themselves for about ten minutes, Slone again started talking. “You will be issued handguns with ample ammunition, but you will not have body armor. This is to protect against any treachery. If anyone attempts any treachery, the serpents will be instructed to deal with you. So, do we have a deal?”

  After a quick discussion between a few of the mercenaries, one moved out of the crowd. A woman in her 40s, who was attractive, except for the deep scar on her left cheek and a patch over her left eye. “I have a question before I give you our answer.”

  “Ask your question, but first I have some. What do you call yourself and do you represent all of the mercenaries here?”

  “They call me Spider, which will do for my name. I’m the leader of this unit by default. The other leaders are all dead, thanks to the monsters you have fighting with you. My main question is what happens if we refuse?”

  “You are mercenaries. You know as well as I do, you do not qualify as prisoners of war, since you are only hired guns. Under the conduct code of the corporations, such as it is, I am within my rights to space you all. No one is going to ransom you and if you are not with us, you are a liability.”

  “So we really have no choice. That much I understand. Then why pay us?”

  “We are not affiliated with any corporation. I also feel that you will fight more for what you can gain then to keep what you can lose. Help defend this ship, and those who survive, they will split the gold and be sent on their way. You will be fighting under the command of Centurion William Marshal, along with his Special Forces unit of serpents.”