Ep.#7 - Who Takes No Risk (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  “There’s something wrong with that contact,” Lieutenant Commander Kono warned as she studied her sensor readings more carefully. “The energy signature is way too high.”

  “Jumping,” Mister Bickle announced as the jump flash washed over the bridge again.

  When the flash subsided, there were suddenly two Dusahn frigates in front of them. One of them was facing away from the Aurora and was firing on the race platform. The other was facing them.

  Nathan’s eyes widened. “Helm, hard to starboard!” he ordered.

  The view screen filled with splashes of red-orange as incoming plasma cannon fire slammed into the Aurora’s forward shields. The ship shook violently as four more explosions pounded them, as missiles that had been launched from the attacking frigate, even before the Aurora had jumped in, impacted their shields, weakening them further.

  “Forward shields down to twenty percent!” the systems officer warned.

  “Combat has all port cannons firing on the frigate,” Jessica announced as the Aurora turned hard to starboard to escape the attacking frigate and get to a clear jump line.

  The Aurora continued to shake violently as both missiles and plasma cannon fire slammed into the forward-most port shields, working their way aft to the midship shields and then the aft shields.

  “Jump line is clear!” Mister Bickle reported, expecting the order to jump away from the incoming fire.

  “Continue your turn,” Nathan ordered. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Holding my turn, aye,” Lieutenant Dinev replied confidently.

  “Jump missiles on the frigate attacking the platform, Jess,” Nathan ordered.

  “Already locked,” Jessica replied. “Launching missiles.”

  “They’ll jump away again,” Lieutenant Commander Kono warned.

  “Port shields all down fifty percent,” the systems officer warned.

  “Missiles away!” Jessica announced.

  “No they won’t,” Nathan assured her. “Not if they have a chance to take us out. Be they Jung or Dusahn, pride is their weakness.”

  “Direct impacts on frigate one,” Jessica exclaimed.

  “Frigate one’s starboard shields are down, and she’s lost half her starboard emitter array!” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported. “She’s not jumping anywhere!”

  “Helm, continue your turn,” Nathan ordered. “Bring our starboard broadside cannons to bear.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Dinev replied.

  “I’m picking up eight more Gunyoki leaving the race platform,” Lieutenant Commander Kono announced.

  “Comms, contact those fighters direct. Tell them to target frigate one, starboard side, and finish her off. We’ll deal with frigate two.”

  “Aye, sir,” the comms officer replied.

  “Three enemy gunships have returned to their attack position above the Ranni plant,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported. “Gunyokis are still thirty seconds out.”

  “Tactical…” Nathan began but was cut short.

  “Jump missiles locked on the gunships,” Jessica announced, reading her captain’s mind. “Launching four.”

  “Broadsides coming to bear,” Lieutenant Dinev reported. “Shall I decelerate, Captain?”

  “Missiles away,” Jessica announced.

  “Affirmative,” Nathan replied as he tapped his headset. “Combat, Captain. Broadsides on frigate two. Fire at will.”

  “Broadsides, frigate two, firing,” Cameron replied.

  Nathan tapped the control panel on the side of his command chair, calling up the starboard cameras onto the main view screen. Four staccato lines of red-orange plasma streaked away, from just below the camera, toward the distant black and crimson frigate a few hundred meters away from them. The enemy frigate’s shields flashed repeatedly as they absorbed the energy of the incoming fire, but with each impact, their flash became less distinct.

  “Target is losing her starboard shields,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported.

  “Jump missile impact!” Jessica reported.

  “One more gunship down!” Lieutenant Commander Kono added. “The other two jumped away just before missile impact.”

  “Losing the angle on the broadsides,” Lieutenant Dinev warned from the helm.

  “Captain, Flight reports all birds are engaged with Dusahn octo-fighters in the vicinity of the platform and over the Ranni plant,” the comms officer reported.

  “Combat, Captain. Cease-fire.” Nathan ordered over his comm-set. “Helm, yaw to starboard, bring our mains onto the frigate.”

  “Target is turning to get a clear jump line,” Lieutenant Commander Kono warned.

  “Yawing to starboard,” Lieutenant Dinev reported.

  “Gunyoki are unable to engage frigate one,” the comms officer added.

  “They’re too busy defending themselves against those octos,” Jessica commented.

  “Launch another eight Super Eagles,” Nathan ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” the comms officer acknowledged.

  “Frigate two has a clear jump line,” Lieutenant Commander Kono warned. “She’s spooling up her jump drive.”

  “Let them go,” Nathan decided. “Helm, adjust attitude to bring all forward tubes onto frigate one.”

  “Adjusting attitude to fire on frigate one, aye,” Lieutenant Dinev replied as she continued to bring the Aurora’s nose around while the ship drifted away from the targets.

  “Frigate two has jumped,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported.

  “Range to frigate one is increasing,” Jessica warned. “Max effective range in twenty seconds.”

  “You should have a firing solution in ten,” Lieutenant Dinev assured Jessica.

  “Eight more Super Eagles are away,” the comms officer reported.

  “Forward tubes, max power, triplets,” Nathan instructed. “Fire when ready.”

  “Forward tubes, max power, triplets,” Jessica repeated. “Firing.”

  A barrage of red-orange balls of plasma streaked away from the Aurora, slamming into the unshielded frigate three seconds later. The target broke in half and erupted in multiple explosions, sending debris flying in all directions.

  “Frigate one is destroyed,” Jessica stated with obvious satisfaction.

  “I’ve got the second frigate,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported. “Two light seconds out, coming about a bit slowly.”

  “They’re turning to jump back into the platform,” Jessica surmised. “Recommend we leave something behind for them.”

  “Comms, warn all ships that we’re dropping mines at position one four seven by one five. Five by five spread,” Nathan ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” the comms officer replied

  “Deploying smart mines,” Jessica acknowledged, a small smile on her face.

  “Helm, turn into that frigate. Jump us just to her starboard side so she thinks we’re preparing to attack her.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Dinev replied.

  “Nice,” Jessica commented, appreciating the captain’s tactics.

  “On course, as ordered,” Lieutenant Dinev reported.

  “Jump us to that frigate,” Nathan ordered.

  “Jumping, aye,” Mister Bickle replied as the jump flash washed over the bridge. “Jump complete.”

  Nathan turned toward his sensor officer to his left, waiting.

  “Locking jump missiles on the frigate,” Jessica reported, “just to sell it a bit.”

  “Target is jumping, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported, a hint of pleasure in her tone.

  The bridge suddenly became quiet as everyone waited to see if the captain’s ploy had worked. Three seconds later, they found out.

  “Multiple explosio
ns!” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported. “Frigate two jumped right into the minefield, Captain. They’ve lost main power, and all her shields are down!”

  “Shall I come about to jump in and finish her off, sir?” Lieutenant Dinev wondered.

  “Negative,” Nathan replied. “Get us back to a position halfway between the platform and Rakuen. Comms, tell the Gunyokis near the race platform to finish off that frigate while our Super Eagles keep those octo-fighters occupied.”

  “Aye, sir,” the comms officer acknowledged.

  “On course and ready to jump,” Lieutenant Dinev announced.

  “Jump us over,” Nathan ordered.

  “Jumping,” the navigator announced as the jump flash washed over the bridge, yet again. “Jump complete.”

  “Any sign of those gunships over the Ranni plant?” Nathan asked.

  “Negative, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Kono replied.

  “Captain, Rakuen Defense Command reports the Dusahn octo-fighters over the Ranni plant have jumped away and have yet to return.”

  “Very well.”

  “The Gunyokis are tearing up frigate two,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported. “The remaining octos around the platform are jumping away, as well.”

  “Comms, have flight maintain patrols over both engagement areas,” Nathan ordered. “And send the Raptors on system perimeter patrol to check for any other Dusahn ships that might be lurking on the fringes of the system.”

  “Yes, sir,” the comms officer replied.

  “Frigate two is coming apart,” Lieutenant Commander Kono reported. “Frigate two is destroyed.”

  “We could have finished off that frigate with a pair of jump missiles,” Jessica commented, “even from all the way out here.”

  “Yeah, but then the Gunyoki wouldn’t have gotten their first big kill,” Nathan replied, a small grin on his face.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The guests began arriving at the Scott family’s Vancouver estate, just before sundown, in a never-ending stream of black limousines. To the untrained observer, security appeared almost nonexistent; with no more than polite men and women wearing appropriate dress attire, checking guests through the main gates and helping them find their dining tables in the vast south lawn of the sprawling compound.

  Krispin Bornet saw something entirely different. Security was everywhere, as were sound and weapons-suppression fields. More than half of the service staff were armed members of the NAU security detail, assigned to protect, not only, the president but numerous dignitaries in attendance. In addition, many of those dignitaries had their own bodyguards. There were ushers everywhere, most of whom were standing on the sidelines, offering the occasional courteous directions to confused guests. In addition, there were trained snipers on the rooftops of, not only, the Scott estate, but the two estates to the south and east, both of which had a clear line of sight into the event.

  As Krispin moved slowly through the crowd, offering hors d’oeuvres to guests, he kept his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. He had yet to be contacted by the ‘operative’ Mister Dakota had mentioned. The event was now in full swing, and soon the president would be giving his customary Founders’ Day speech. It would be the one moment the president would be in the open, assuming his handler’s promise that the target’s shields would be deactivated was true.

  His tray emptied, Krispin returned to the catering tent, on the side of the south lawn, to pick up another one. As he had already done a dozen times this night, he placed his empty tray on the table as he entered and moved toward the table containing freshly stocked trays waiting to be taken out.

  “Martin!” one of the waitstaff supervisors barked.

  Krispin responded immediately upon hearing his cover name called. “Yes, sir,” he replied, stepping over to the man who had called him.

  “Take that tray to the guard stationed on the third floor, southeast bedroom,” the supervisor instructed as he scanned Krispin’s ID badge.

  Krispin looked at the handheld scanner, purposefully appearing puzzled. “What’s that for?”

  “So the guards don’t shoot you,” the supervisor joked. “Deliver the food, then wait outside the door until he is finished so you can bring back his tray.”

  “But, that could take awhile,” Krispin said.

  “You got a problem taking a break?”

  “I’ve barely earned a hundred credits in tips,” Krispin complained, trying to appear eager to earn tips like everyone else.

  “Don’t worry,” the supervisor told him. “The real money starts flowing after the president’s speech. That’s when everyone starts drinking and the party really gets rolling.”

  “Yes, sir,” Krispin replied, picking up the tray of food. “How do I get to the…?”

  “Third floor, southeast bedroom,” the supervisor repeated. “Out the back of the tent, through the kitchen, and down the hallway. Elevator up to the third floor. The guard on the third floor will direct you from there.”

  Krispin was about to depart with the tray of food when something dawned on him. “How will I know when the guard is finished?”

  “Keep your ears open,” the supervisor said with a wink. His expression suddenly turned deadly serious. “You will know when he is down.”

  It wasn’t a slip of the tongue. Krispin had just met the other ‘operative’.

  * * *

  President Scott stood at the picture window in his study, staring at the sea of lights in the city beyond his family estate. He had gazed out this window countless times in his eighty-one years of life. He remembered when he would look out this window with his father, and his father before him, when the lights below were far more sparse. Even five years ago, the lights had been sparse. Earth’s recovery had taken time, but now, seven years after the cease-fire, his hard work had finally paid off. The recovery of his beloved Earth was nearly complete. Once again, the lights below were a blazing symbol of prosperity, accomplishment, and anticipation of things still to come.

  So much had changed over the last nine years. So much had been lost. He remembered the words of his grandfather. ‘A generation must die for its successor to come into its own.’ He wondered how many of those who had died had made way for their successors. His wife, his eldest son, his youngest daughter’s husband; all of their deaths had forced others to step up. His youngest son had become the leader Dayton had always known he would be. His daughter had stepped up and become an indispensable member of his administration. And their stories were not unique. He knew of countless individuals who had been forced to step up to fill the voids left by the untimely passing of others. Millions had perished so that trillions more could survive and thrive.

  Dayton Scott’s earliest childhood memories were those of his world’s first ventures into orbit since the bio-digital plague had sent them back to the horse and buggy age. Now, his youngest son was leading an interstellar rebellion a thousand light years away.

  His father had been correct. Times had indeed changed.

  “What are you doing hiding in here?” Miri asked as she entered the room.

  “Just looking out the window and thinking,” her father responded.

  “About what?”

  “Hope,” he mused. He looked at her and smiled. “You remind me so much of your mother.”

  “Are you ready for this?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” he admitted with a sigh. “You know, every year I make a Founders’ Day speech, and every year I think it’s the most important speech I will ever make. For once, it may actually be.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Miri wondered, sensing her father’s apprehension. “No one would blame you if you played it safe. Like you said, you can do more for the people of Earth by staying in office.”

  “Miri, through the
course of my life, I have had to do many things I was not proud of. Every time, I convinced myself that I was doing them for the greater good. Yet, every single one of them, even the ones that turned out the way I’d hoped, still haunt me to this day.”

  “But…”

  “Whether I am to succeed or fail, if I do either one using the truth, my conscience will be clear.”

  Miri leaned forward and kissed her father on the cheek. “Have I ever told you how proud I am to be your daughter?”

  “Not as proud as I am to be your father,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her.

  The door opened, and a man in a black tuxedo stepped inside. “It’s time, Mister President.”

  Dayton took a deep breath and sighed. “Time to make some enemies,” he said, heading for the door.

  * * *

  The guard on the third floor gave Krispin far more attention than any guard thus far. Unlike the plainclothes guards in the public areas, these men were in uniform, including flak vests, helmets, and heavy assault-style plasma rifles. In short, they were dressed for war.

  After several minutes of checking his ID, performing bio-scans, and checking in with his unit commander, the guard allowed him to pass. Krispin offered the man a biscuit, but he was not interested.

  Krispin followed the guard’s directions to the end of the corridor and around the corner. He found the door to the southeast bedroom and knocked three times, then twice, then three more times, just as the guard at the elevator had instructed. The door opened, and he was met by a square-jawed marine in full body armor, the same type Krispin had worn, himself, during his time in the service. “Where would you like this?” Krispin asked.

  “Over there, on the desk,” the marine instructed, turning back to his duties at the window.

  Krispin glanced about as he placed the tray of food on the table. There were two marines in the room, both of whom had assault rifles. The guard who had answered the door was the spotter and was actively scanning the crowd below for any suspicious behavior. The second marine had a sniper rifle trained on the crowd, as well as the stage, and was constantly checking his range to various locations. These men were safeties, usually referred to as ‘overwatch’, since their primary functions were to ‘watch’ the scene they were assigned to protect. If a shooter were to suddenly start firing from the crowd, from another building, or from anywhere within their line of fire, their job was to take that shooter out as quickly as possible, without concern for collateral damage.