“I have already told you,” Fei Long said as calmly as he could manage, “I have little need for rest in the traditional sense; additionally, I have an errand I wish to run.”
The Ensign shook his head as they entered the lift, and Jardine input deck nine as his destination before Fei Long entered deck six as his.
The lift went first to deck six, and Fei Long exited as soon as the doors opened.
“You sure you know where you’re going?” Jardine asked hesitantly, clearly less-than-comfortable with allowing Fei Long free roam of the ship as the Captain had instructed.
“Of course,” Fei Long replied with a tilt of his head. “I will see you at the start of first shift’s next rotation.”
“Ok,” Jardine said before closing the door to the lift, and Fei Long blinked his eyes rapidly as if he could somehow clear the past few hours from his memory. The Ensign was not a stupid man, nor was he overly intrusive, but Fei Long had always found interaction with others to be more stressful than rewarding, and such long hours of continuous contact had worn his patience thinner than he could ever remember.
But he took a few calming breaths before setting down the corridor toward his destination. When he arrived, he activated the chime to request entry. The door opened after several seconds, and a towering man with long, strawberry red hair and a beard which was equal parts white and red stood before him. Fei Long clasped his hands in his peoples’ universal sign of respect, “I am seeking Master Smith Haldis the Red. May I assume you are he?”
The hulking man, who Fei Long was aware hailed from a planet named ‘Tracto’—the entire population of which was the product of advanced genetic engineering—looked down at him for several seconds before grunting, “Assumptions are dangerous.”
“How very true,” Fei Long allowed, graciously bowing his head in deference. “I have heard tales of your people’s bravery and valor in combat and was told that, of all the people serving aboard this ship, only you had succeeded in slaying one of the mighty beasts called a ‘Stone Rhino.’ Is this true?”
Haldis folded his massive arms across his chest, and Fei Long saw that his right arm was bionic from the mid-point of the forearm down. The mechanical device appeared crude to Fei Long’s eye, and he briefly wondered why the man had not simply opted to have a new arm grown. Then he remembered that the Tracto-ans were relative newcomers to the ‘River of Stars’ as they referred to it, being only recently afforded access to technology. “A man lets his deeds, not his tongue, speak for him.”
“Be that as it may,” Fei Long said, fearing he would fail to broach the topic he had come to discuss if he failed to be more forward, “I have come to inquire as to the protective qualities of Stone Rhino hide. I have heard that, in the hands of a capable armorer, it can be worked so it rivals even duralloy armor?”
“Rivals?” Haldis scoffed. “Properly harvested and worked Stone Rhino hide is every bit as strong as these star metal alloys, while affording greater range of motion.”
“I defer to your knowledge,” Fei Long said, glad to have finally gotten the armorer-turned-machinist to open up on the subject. He withdrew a data slate from within his robe and handed it to the Tracto-an, “Could Stone Rhino hide be worked into this style of armor, while allowing the designated range of motion?”
The smith eyed the data slate briefly before taking it and perusing its contents. The man was surprisingly at ease with his surroundings for one who, until a few short months earlier, had never even seen electricity, let alone starships. The armorer shook his head after a moment’s examination of the slate’s contents, “Some parts of the Rhino’s hide are pliable enough for that, but those portions don’t provide any better protection than stiff leather. A proper suit of Stone Rhino armor, using the strongest parts, could never allow for quite that range of motion.”
Fei Long sighed as he accepted the data slate from the other man. “I thank you for your time, Master Smith,” he said respectfully as he turned to leave.
“Wait,” Haldis said gruffly, causing Fei Long to stop mid-motion and turn around. The armorer gestured to the slate with his rough, scarred, left hand, “I could craft that armor for you.”
Fei Long cocked his head in puzzlement. “I fear I do not understand; are you saying Stone Rhino hide could, indeed, be used?”
“That is impossible,” he shook his head adamantly, “however, I have seen a material which would afford the measure of protection you desire, as well as the range of motion you seem to need.”
Fei Long clasped his hands respectfully before himself. “I would be indebted to you, Master Smith.”
Haldis nodded slowly as he explained, “The hide of a mighty dragon, known to these Starborn as a ‘Storm Drake,’ could be fashioned into that suit. In truth,” he added, “should you manage to provide the material for this armor, I would be indebted to you merely for being granted the honor of being the first of my people to work such a material.”
“I am under the impression that Storm Drake hide is illegal,” Fei Long said evenly, working to keep the disappointment from his voice. The creatures known as Storm Drakes were, indeed, highly sought-after for their hides. So great was the demand for the material, that the species had been placed under several universal protection laws.
“It is,” Haldis grudged. “But I believe the Captain confiscated some from the ‘gas mining facility’,” he said the last three words deliberately. “If I have heard correctly, there is more than enough there to make the suit you desire.”
“I shall endeavor to secure the material for you, Master Smith,” Fei Long said, respectfully bowing his head behind his clasped hands before turning and making his way back to his quarters to retrieve some supplies.
He had hoped the Stone Rhino hide would suffice for the armor he had designed, but in truth he was more than pleased by the apparent knowledge and ability of Haldis, the armorer-turned-machinist. And if what the Tracto-an said was true, then Fei Long had only to ask the Captain for access to the material.
But that would have to wait, at least for a time. Because if he read the demeanor of the crew accurately then they were preparing for yet another battle—and he had his own contributions to make in defense of his new home, the Pride of Prometheus.
Chapter XXVIII: Last Minute Details
“Let’s work our way around the table,” Middleton said after the last of his senior officers had arrived. “Chief, why don’t you lead off?”
Chief Engineer Garibaldi nodded as he leaned forward on the conference room table. “In the three days since the fight with the Cardinal’s Wrath, my people have been working around the clock. We tried to get the Wrath’s systems back online, but there was too much damage done by the ship’s crew before we managed to round them up. So we’ve focused our efforts on the Pride; her forward shield array is at 86%, but the other facings are at max. We’ve patched the damage to the bow’s armor plating and reinforced those compromised areas, and thanks to the extra capacitors and relays we got from Shèhuì Héxié, the rest of the ship’s systems are in tip-top shape. In addition to transferring the Destroyer’s arsenal of ninety Starfire missiles over to the Pride’s cargo bay, we even managed to get a few of the Wrath’s power relays and shield emitters transferred over to the Elysium’s Wing. The corvette’s engines are still a mess, so she won’t be fast, but she can maneuver and keep her shields up and weapons hot if we get into a firefight. I’d put her at 60% of her rated combat performance, maybe 70% if we can minimize her lack of speed like we did against the Wrath.”
“62% and 76%, Chief,” Ensign Sarkozi cut in, and Garibaldi waved his hand in mock exasperation as he sat back in his chair, ceding the floor to the young Tactical Officer. “The Corvette won’t be able to hold its own unprotected but that should be minimized, since its best role would be providing support for the Pride. If we keep the Wings in formation with us to cover the Pride’s flanks, both ships will benefit from the overlapping firing arcs. These Hydras were specifically design
ed for group deployments,” she said pointedly, as though it needed to be said.
Middleton nodded in satisfaction as yet again Ensign Sarkozi proved her aptitude for tactical theory—and her barely-checked ambition. He turned to Ensign Jardine, “How are your new decoys coming along, Ensign?”
Jardine leaned forward and nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve got six of them rigged and ready to deploy, Captain. It takes Fei Long and I about two hours to rig each one now that he’s worked the kinks out of the software, but we only have enough transponders for three more units. So unless our guests arrive in the next ten hours, we should have nine total decoy units ready to deploy.” He flashed a vicious grin, “I can’t wait to see how they perform, sir.”
Captain Middleton allowed himself to return the other man’s sentiment as he gave a satisfied nod, “Good work, Ensign. Relay my compliments to Mr. Fei Long.” Middleton then turned to Doctor Cho, “What is sickbay’s status, Doctor Cho?”
The doctor gestured to the men and women gathered around the conference room table. “Each crewmember has been administered a cocktail of antivirals, in the event a bio-weapon is deployed against us. In accordance with your wishes, the environmental systems have been reconfigured to provide maximum air screening without compromising the priority areas of the ship. Should the bioweapon be introduced to the ship’s air supply, our new protocols should reduce crew casualties by roughly sixty percent. Doctor Middleton,” Cho added hesitantly, “has agreed to provide her expertise in the event we receive casualties.”
“Very good, Doctor,” Middleton said officiously, keeping the wince he felt from playing out on his face. Doctor Cho appeared competent, but he was still uncertain of the man’s attitude and ability to perform under pressure. And the truth was that Jo, for all her flaws, was the best trauma surgeon he had ever known.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Jersey said, waiting until Middleton gave him the signal to continue before saying, “I volunteer to command the Elysium’s Wings.”
Captain Middleton shook his head. “You’ll be needed here, Commander,” he said evenly. “In her current state, the Wings is even less maneuverable than the Pride, so I’ll need my best helmsman here to make sure we don’t concede any unnecessary ground. Depending on how heavy they come, this battle might be decided by inches—and I know you can get me those inches while manning the helm.” Middleton turned to Ensign Sarkozi, “Are you ready for your first command, Ensign?”
The young woman’s mouth fell open briefly before she snapped a salute, “Ready and willing, Captain.”
“Good,” he said with a curt nod, “since your ship is the less maneuverable of the two, you’re to coordinate maneuvers directly with Commander Jersey for as long as we can maintain communication. If we lose comm., you take whatever action you deem optimal; I trust your tactical judgment implicitly.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she said, and Middleton imagined he actually saw her swell before he swiveled to face Ensign Jardine. “Have all comm. modifications been implemented, Ensign?”
“Yes, sir,” Jardine replied. “We’ve installed redundant point-to-point laser comm. systems on both ships in the event we experience blanket jamming. Those systems won’t take much abuse, but with eight installed on each ship and with the decoy units also equipped with one each, they should ensure uninterrupted communications until those systems have been destroyed.”
“All right,” Middleton said, leaning forward and clasping his hands emphatically as he had reached the end of his unwritten agenda. “Any comments? Questions?” he asked before dryly adding, “jokes…criticisms?”
A short round of chuckles was followed by deafening silence in the conference room which, combined with the looks of determination on the faces of his officers, filled Middleton with a measure of confidence he had not previously possessed. He stood from the table and let a vicious sneer spread across his features before saying, “Let’s go kill some pirates.”
Chapter XXIX: Twilight’s Fall
No more than twelve hours after the senior staff meeting, the tactical display on the main viewer lit up and Middleton felt a strange sense of calm come over him.
“Multiple jumps detected,” the Sensors operator called out as the screen’s flashing icons on the edge of the system began to populate with relevant data. “Reading four…make that, six, vessels inbound.”
As the icons began to populate one by one, Middleton heard his teeth begin to grind as his jaw clenched tight. “Verify those readings,” he said evenly as he forced himself to sit rigidly in his chair.
“Verifying,” the woman at Sensors acknowledged tensely. After several seconds, she said, “Readings confirmed, Captain: sensors show four CR-70 corvettes, one Essex-class Light Destroyer, and one Soyuz-class Heavy Destroyer.”
The orbital path of the planet they had set the colonists down on had brought it adjacent to the newcomers’ point of arrival, and it only took a few seconds for Middleton to deduce they would be in firing range in less than one hour’s time.
“Helm,” he said after finishing his silent calculations, “coordinate with Ensign Sarkozi over the point-to-point system: we are to make best possible speed to interdict these newcomers.”
He turned to the Comm. station, at which Fei Long currently sat beside the Second Shift Comm. stander, a petty officer named Rand. “Watch for any outgoing signals, Comm., as well as any jamming activity.”
“Yes, Captain,” Petty Officer Rand replied, while Fei Long worked at a calm, yet blistering pace at his workstation.
“Mr. Fei,” Middleton added, and when the young man gave him a short nod without taking his eyes from his console, the Captain continued, “prepare your nearest decoy units along the axis between our two formations, and be ready to maneuver the others into position on my order.”
“Four units are available for immediate use, Captain,” Fei Long replied calmly without ever taking his eyes off whatever task he was seeing to, “while three more can be maneuvered into range. The others are too far.”
“Captain,” Rand said sharply, “I’m receiving a broadcast on all channels.”
“Put it through,” he ordered, sitting back in his chair as the main viewer morphed into the image of a man with a short, neatly-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard beneath a pair of ice-cold, blue eyes.
“This is Captain James Raubach IV, of the Rim Fleet Heavy Destroyer Dämmerung,” the man said in a tone that spoke to years of hard-won command experience. “The Pride of Prometheus and her Commander, Tyrone Middleton, are hereby ordered to stand down, heave to, and prepare to receive lawfully-appointed inspection teams. Failure to comply will constitute an act of aggression against the Rim Fleet and the citizens under its protection.” The message cut out, and Middleton quietly released a pent-up breath as he came to know the identity of his opponent.
Captain James Raubach—apparently the husband of the late Captain Meisha Raubach—was a veritable legend among the Rim Fleet’s pool of officers, second only in stature to his father, Commodore James Raubach III. Middleton had actually attended a lecture conducted by the man, who had stepped in for his father at the last minute during a conference seven years earlier. James Raubach IV was all business, much as Middleton imagined his father was, and possessed as cold and analytical of a mind as Middleton had ever had the pleasure of examining up close.
But it wasn’t the fact that James Raubach had sent his favored son which worried Middleton. It wasn’t even the fact that Middleton’s people were, on the face of things, outgunned nearly three to one by the six ship flotilla. What concerned the Pride’s Captain most was that Captain Raubach knew who he was up against…which should not have been possible, given the fact that inter-system communication without physical transfer of the data, required access to the recently-defunct ComStat network…
The Imperials had taken all strategic assets of significant value, or those owned outright by the Imperium of Man, when they had dissolved the Union Treaty some months earlier. T
he ComStat network utilized faster-than-light communications methods which no one outside of the Empire had managed to duplicate—and it appeared that Captain Raubach and his Rim Fleet had somehow managed to not only prevent the Imperials from reclaiming all ComStat equipment from this sector, but they had somehow gained access to it!
Captain Rodriguez must have sent a data packet containing intelligence on the Pride and its Commanding Officer prior to Fei Long’s jamming of their signal, and that message had clearly been communicated via the ComStat network.
“Steady on, bridge,” Middleton said as he felt the tension on the bridge begin to mount. “Time to intercept: forty two minutes,” he said after performing the calculations on his chair’s console.
Those forty two minutes ticked by one after another, and the Captain was pleased to see that after fifteen minutes, most of his bridge crew appeared to have reigned in their nerves and were going about their tasks efficiently, if a bit tensely—which was more than understandable.
When the intercept clock wound down to six minutes remaining, Middleton squared himself in his chair. “Comm., open a channel to the Dämmerung,” he ordered calmly after allowing his mind to work through the myriad angles he saw in the situation before him. He grimly noted that the six ships of Captain Raubach’s tiny fleet had taken up a classic, textbook position with the corvettes out wide of the Destroyers in a slightly collapsed ‘X.’ From such a posture, it would be impossible for Middleton and his two ships to gain an advantageous position on any of the vessels.
“Channel open, sir,” the stander reported after a brief delay.
“This is Captain Tim Middleton of the MSP Cruiser Pride of Prometheus,” he said as he donned his best poker face, knowing he had never needed it as much as he did just then. “This system and its inhabitants are currently under the protection of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet; all vessels approaching from the hyper limit are to come about and make station-keeping in the interests of avoiding unnecessary hostilities.”
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