Scanners checked him as he walked. He walked through a door, it sealed behind him.
“Identification,” a rough voice asked. Min Hae put his hand into a box in the wall to his side. His implanted identification chip and the intelligence departments checks running against it so that only his true identity and not the covers that were also uploaded to the chip was shown.
“Welcome Commander,” the rough voice said again. Min Hae walked out of the room, two armored Marine Commandos attached to the intelligence department waited down the hallway, blast shields covering them, cannons on swivels, ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice.
One gave a two finger salute. Min Hae returned it as he went through a final door behind them. He had entered the Hub the headquarters of the Intelligence department. Three people knew where it was located in Parnmal. Everyone that worked in the hub was given paths that were meant to be confusing and unmemorable.
Min Hae breezed through groups heading from one place to another. No one got in his way as he got to a secure conference room.
He called up a private menu and selected Salchar.
“So what is this plan of yours?” Salchar demanded, the man was not much for small talk these days. He was building the largest fleet that the Free Fleet had ever fielded. He was going to free his people from Heija no matter what.
“I have a plan to deal with the Syndicate and the Kalu at the same time. Though it could split our strength,” Min Hae said.
There was no hiding how Salchar's face tightened ever so slightly. Others might not see it, but Min Hae did, and he noticed the way that Salchar blamed himself for idiotically throwing his fleet into the Kalu's teeth.
“We have Rosho station perched at our back door and the Kalu smashing on our front. We need to deal with one of them quickly, yet I don't see how we can deal with one or the other with less than our full strength. The reports of the Jump fighters have come in. Have you read them?” Salchar asked, the stress showing on his features.
Min Hae nodded that he had.
“Then you know that Rosho station has more ships than we have ever fought, attached to it or orbiting. It has Fairgate and Lifendi's forces protecting it. Its defences are magnitudes better than our own at Parnmal. Hell they have laser cannons and missile batteries that would put our entire fleet to shame,” Salchar said.
Rosho was one hell of a station yet still Min Hae had hope for his plan.
“Well then it's a good thing we won't have to fight them,” Min Hae said.
“I'm listening,” Salchar said, his look telling Min Hae that he'd better have something good.
“Well you know how these Kalu lot like their traditions and their straight up fights, well I think we can use that against them,” Min Hae said, a grin forming on his face as he outlined his plan and how Ashota had confirmed it in his interview with Monk.
“We need allies, but I don't want ones that are going to plant a knife in our backs,” Salchar said after Min Hae had finished.
“Of course Commander.”
“If you pull this off, I'll owe you a whole night out, so probably a single beer,” Salchar said in an attempt to be relaxed, Min Hae saw through the hidden stress. Salchar was good at hiding his real feelings but Min Hae had trained to read creatures from other species and knew Salchar for quite a damned long time now.
Chapter Things start moving.
Heston marched through Fruit Cups halls and to its fighter bays. He knew he'd find Smith there.
The rambunctious fighter pilot was looking at his MEF with a bag over his shoulder.
“The heck you think you're doing?” Heston said, shoving his data pad at Smith.
Smith read the top of it, grinning.
“Well the MEF is a great fighter and everything, but I can do a hell of a lot more work in the Scout Fighter,” he said, referring to the brand new ships that were now being rushed through production.
“You're one of the best MEF pilots I have, the pilots look up to you,” Heston said, his face thunderous.
“Thanks Commander, but I'm doing this to be the best I can be. The MEF is a great patroller, but the SF is a ship that will allow me to smash the enemy like never before.”
“It's easier to pilot for aquatic creatures, it'll take you months to get used to just the jumping, another couple of months to fight in any functional way! I need you here,” Heston said, pointing to the deck.
“That's what they say, I'll be ready to fight within the time I'm back here on war station,” Smith said, sounding infuriatingly calm. Heston was finding it hard to stay angry with the man.
“Look, while I'm there I'll be also showing these greenies how to work as not only a team but as independents. Right now they either act as individuals or as a team. They find it hard as hell to go from one to the other. They have immensely powerful ships, but they need a bit of a push,” Smith said.
Heston began typing something onto his data pad, a smile that looked anything but menacing, growing on his face.
Smith's features became pensive.
“Alright, if you get the training done in time. It is my recommendation that you become the commander of the SF,” Heston said.
“Wait, I don't want that kind of responsibility!” Smith said, trying to backpedal.
“Welcome to my world,” Heston said with a gleeful smile, leaning towards Smith. “Don't mess up on purpose, if you do I'll have your ass on a stake,” Heston said, moving back away from Smith.
Smith saw pride in Heston’s face. He believed in him. Smith would bring plasma and bomb pumped fury down on the Free Fleet's enemies. Smith gave Heston a two-finger salute.
Heston returned it.
“Do me proud Roman candle one. You’d best hurry up if you want to catch the super-freighter,” Heston said.
“See you soon Commander.” He turned and rushing off towards his waiting shuttle.
Heston went to an observation bubble, studying the massive freighter. It had taken a month and a half, with nearly all of the resources of the star system to get it up and running. It was large enough to fit twelve corvettes and a small classed destroyer in its gargantuan storage areas.
The ships would go to Parnmal to be fixed. The third yard was just about ready to start taking them in. The Kuruvian yard dogs were doing nothing but speeding up all of the docks.
The systems chief engineer was building a dock in-system to help speed up repairs, but it would take a few weeks without additional help and resources.
The Freighter's engines started, for the first time in decades it moved under its own power, the time for test starts was over.
“Good luck,” Heston said under his breath as the massive ship headed towards the jump point that would take it in the direction of Parnmal.
Three corvettes and two destroyers surrounded the freighter. It was the new back bone of the recovery project and materials shipments from what was the front lines of the Free Fleet-Union battles.
Not bad for a bunch of kids kidnapped from across the known universe.
“Commander Heston, we were wondering if you could help co-ordinate some shuttle routes,” a controller asked, the pitch of his voice telling Heston that somebody had messed up.
“I'm on my way,” Heston commed back.
Another fire, another day. He turned away from the observation bubble and towards the bridge.
***
Cheerleader and Boot had been repairing their own ships and offering all the assistance that they could. So far Flor had accepted negotations, but there had been no official talk with anyone from the Empress or her staff.
That was until Onur turned to Cheerleader.
“It seems that the Empress wants to meet us,” Onur said.
“Well then, when and where?” Cheerleader asked jovially.
“Her palace, the night builder,” Onur said.
“Where's that?”
“It's better if I show you,” Onur said, an image appeared on Cheerleader's screen.
/> “It's the shipyard?” She said in confusion. “I thought it would be like the Taj Mahal, or a skyscraper, maybe a nice cave. Kuruvians keep you on your toes, that's for sure,” she said, pausing a few seconds before continuing.
“Okay, when?”
“In a few hours,” Onur said conversationally.
Urggh. “Alright, get me a shuttle and a security detail,” Cheerleader said, standing. “Let's go see what the Empress wants.”
A few hours later and her shuttle landed on Night builder. The yard was larger than Nancy had been before it was broken down into separate yards. There were fourteen berths, all of them filled with ships as different as the creatures that filled the ranks of the Free Fleet. It was madness getting through the ships and to the assigned airlock. The pilot yelling obscenities through the dark of space. It didn't seem to matter to them that noise couldn't pass through vacuum.
Cheerleader's security detail deployed outwards, weapons raised for a threat, finding none but Kuruvians moving in lifting-exoskeletons and moving the supplies that filled the warehouse they were inside.
A hardy looking engineer, with a leg and his main arms prosthetic, looked at the detail with bored interest. It's purple eye roving over them lazily.
“The Empress is working on a plasma to ion conversion engine,” he said, turning and walking away.
“Well I think we should follow him,” Cheerleader said, her security detail pausing.
“Yes Ma'am,” Jesse said. Her security detail commander, and commander of the commando forces on her ship.
Commander of Commandos, god it gets confusing sometimes.
Cheerleader looked around the warehouse, not a drone was to be seen. Everything was done by Kuruvians, most of them strapped into exoskeletons, or using cranes and other equipment to move the relative candy store worth of parts from the warehouse to belts that carried them off to the rest of the yard.
She scanned the area, feeling nervous in the alien space as she walked with her weapon still slung casually on her back, looking anxious was for the security detail. They prowled through the area, actively looking for threats.
None appeared as they got through the warehouse and stepped onto an elevator.
It whisked them off, one side of the elevator open to windows and small struts in between.
Due to the speed of the elevator the struts seemed invisible, showing the living breathing yard beyond.
Cheerleader took the time to study the array of ships that littered the yard. The largest of ships were within getting some maintenance, but most were attached to airlocks, or hovering nearby the massive collection.
She laughed in her helmet, getting a look from the Kuruvian that was guiding them.
“I assume that something amuses you. I have not had time to understand your race. Though I do not think it necessary being one of the chiefs,” he said, not without a certain amount of pride. Cheerleader had met Kuruvian's before and she was used to figuring out what they meant with their body language.
“Yes I was, your yard looks just like our own. Silly the chief engineer of Nancy might have taken some of your practices,” she mused.
“He better have, I taught him damned well!” The Chief paused as if trying to remember something important that had just happened.
“Wait, did you just say that he is the chief engineer of an entire yard?”
“Well technically three about to become four, but yes,” Cheerleader said. Cheerleader was now mentally referring to this strange Kuruvian as Chief.
“Ha! That a boy! I doubt Eddie would expect anything less,” Chief said with no small amount of pride.
“Well knowing Eddie he'd probably want Silly to look to a single ship instead of tens of them,” Cheerleader said.
“Eddie's still alive?” The Kuruvian showed his surprise with his manipulators.
“Of course, you can't kill that boot flinging chief with a damned oversized warhead!” Cheerleader said, remembering the times that she'd met the infamous engineer.
“He was one of the first generation of Syndicate recruits. There are three known survivors, two of them do nothing but spout uselessness. Eddie was the only one to not only survive being the first generation, he was one of the trainers for the second and third generation. Those that taught with him have gone beyond the dark to the light. The Syndicate killed them, with their treatment, or the battles they were engaged in. A few snapped and others were left useless. If we had known...” The Kuruvian trailed off, his manipulator's apologetic.
Apparently our little chief engineer demands quite some respect.
“Well it has been some time before he was last with the empire,” Cheerleader said.
“Yes, it makes sense, the Empire was only formed a few decades ago, with the creation of night builder.” Chiefs’ arms signalling his pride.
“So Chief, how did the empire come about?” Cheerleader asked, genuinely interested. She also saw that Chief approved of the name she'd given him.
“The Empire is based off of the yards which are controlled by the Empress. She brings order through the picking and choosing of who will get their ships built, or who will get repairs. She created laws and orders for everyone that resides in the Empire. Everyone relies on the ships that go between the multiple systems, with her control of them she rules everything. She turned the recruiting by the Syndicate into a system that dealt with the miscreants of our empire. If someone committed a crime that warranted the perpetrator getting punishment, that punishment was to be trained for the recruitment, then offered up by the empire as tribute. Lady Fairgate allowed it and the Empire flourished. Syndicate ships were given precedence and treated as per Lady Fairgate's orders. The Syndicate would raid supply runs and other traffic in the empire but would leave us alone for the most part. Now that we are trading with people outside of the empire, and the Empress is not the only one with the ability to make ships or repair them. We are in a precarious position,” Chief said.
“Thank you, I had read the files on the Empire, but I felt that hearing it from someone that is at the heart of it would give me a clearer perspective,” Cheerleader said, inkling her helmet the small amount it would allow her.
“Please follow,” Chief said as the elevator came to a stop outside a merchant freighter.
The Kuruvian bobbed and weaved through moving stream of his kind. Cheerleader and her protection detail had a harder time, trying to cover whatever they dictated as possible threats and make it through the Kuruvians whizzing around.
“Hey, get a move on loafers!” One Kuruvian said, having to stop as the Commandos passed. A few other Kuruvians added similar phrases.
Cheerleader sped up in an effort to keep pace with the Chief. The Commandos hurried themselves.
They crossed through an open airlock, the freighter and yard sharing oxygen. Parts flowed in and out at alarming speeds. Cheerleader dodged and weaved, reminded of the few times she had been in mega sales in South Korea, or the one time she had been in America for black Friday.
They moved to the rear of the freighter.
“What damned idjit did maintenance on this thing?” A Kuruvian bellowed from the Engine room as they approached.
“The freighter's chief,” someone said in tones that expressed their—displeased—feelings towards the freighter chief's skills.
“Well send him back to damned school and tell the captain that he is to have a new chief or none of the yards will repair this hunk of junk,” the first voice bellowed.
“Yes Empress,” the second answered.
Cheerleader made it into the engine compartment, it was an organized mess of bad parts in one pile and new parts in another. There was one Kuruvian at a control panel, and another at work underneath a massive panel.
“Are you replacing the couplers, or refurbishing them?” Chief said as he moved to the pile of new parts.
“The bastard pushed past operating time and replaced his nitro cooling flow with a seventy-five twenty-five chloride-nitro m
ix. The whole friggin assembly is melted together!” The Kuruvian under the panel said. Cheerleader didn't need to see their manipulators to know they were unhappy.
“Idjit,” the Kuruvian at the panel said.
“Sounds like it,” Cheerleader said. “Did they use clean chloride at least, or the stuff from Boshcat?”
“Boshcat,” the one under the panel said.
“Going to have to change out the entire valve system and scrub the coolant tanks. They gave us a batch, checked it. It had an acid mix,” Cheerleader said, remembering how furious the engineers had been with the traders that had sold the chlorine which was supposed to be used to clean environmental filters, but instead would have caused people to get sick from the additional acid.
There was a cease of noise from under the panel. Cheerleader looked to Chief who was showing signs of nervousness.
“Those bloody cheap skating pieces of dog arse!” The person pushed out from under the panel. The Kuruvian's eyes were alight with fury. She looked from Cheerleader to the engineer at the control panel.
“Chair, I want you to find those damned idiots and have them recall all the bad chemicals they've distributed. Also tell the captain, if it was the chief not checking the goods we'll take on the cleaning. Make sure the Captain understands that he'd better check what the hell is coming aboard his ship more carefully. As well as pay closer attention to the crap he puts in his bloody system!” The Kuruvian barked, her manipulators moving in fury. She looked back to Cheerleader.
“You must be the representative of the Free Fleet,” the Kuruvian said, offering a hand. “Empress.”
“It's good to meet you Empress,” Cheerleader said, taking the hand. It seemed that the Empress wasn't just a tittle, it was her name. It also looked like she had spent more than a little time researching the Free Fleet and its customs.
Though for what purpose, I'm going to have to find out. I have the feeling she doesn't do anything that might waste her time.
“Let's walk and talk, I am too angry to deal with fixing things right now,” Empress said, leading the way, not looking for confirmation as Chief had done when Cheerleader had arrived.
From the Black (Free Fleet Book 4) Page 17
