Pledge Allegiance

by Rider England

  Everson and Partridge had betrayed that emblem.

  The intercom by my arm buzzed. “All weapon systems online, Captain,” Tegan Prime said.

  “Let’s try and wear down their shields,” I told Morrow. “Use the rail gun and a salvo of missiles.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  A flurry of fire emanated from the Finch toward the Zodiac. The missiles and rail gun projectiles hit the Imperium ship’s shields and dissipated. With each shot the Zodiac’s shields deflected, they would weaken as the power they demanded to stay active was gradually drained.

  Our small size and Morrow’s skill might be our advantage in this fight. If we could avoid the Zodiac’s weapons by outmaneuvering them instead of relying on our shields, we should be in good enough shape to attack the Zodiac when her shields were down and ours were still fully functional.

  Most ship-to-ship combat was a war of attrition. It didn’t always pay to have the largest ship around if a smaller vessel could wear down your defenses with quick, repeated attacks.

  I was hoping the next few minutes would prove that to be true.

  “Mr. Morrow, bring her around so we can get a few shots in before she retaliates.”

  “Aye, Captain. I’ll get us close enough to touch her shields.” Morrow moved the yoke and the Finch came about, our flight path taking us closer to the Zodiac.

  The onboard guns fired at the Zodiac’s shields, the arcs of rail-gun fire illuminated by yellow tracers that swarmed toward the enemy ship like angry space fireflies.

  “Their shield power is decreasing,” Morrow said, consulting a screen on his console. The light emanating from the screen lit his face a pale, ghostly blue.

  The Zodiac’s cannon shot a yellow ball of energy toward us. The plasma missile hurtled through space toward the Finch at such speed that I was sure we couldn’t evade it, and I gripped the arms of my chair hard as I prepared for impact.

  But Morrow twisted the flight yoke and the Finch rolled lazily. The plasma missile exploded off our stern and the expended energy rocked us but nothing more.

  I hit the button that connected me to Engineering. “Status report, Ms. Prime.”

  “We’ve taken a little damage but nothing we can’t handle. Weapons and engines are functioning at optimal levels.”

  “So she’s holding together?” I asked.

  “Yes, Captain, she’s holding together,” she confirmed.

  “Bring us in for another strafing run,” I told Morrow. “Let’s try to take out those shields.”

  He nodded and piloted us closer to the predator class vessel. As we approached, our guns went into action, attacking the Zodiac’s shields. Blue sparks at the points of impact told me the shields were faltering. Vess really had equipped the Finch with the most up-to-date weaponry available.

  “How are we doing?” I asked Morrow.

  “Their shields are down to fifteen percent capacity,” he said. “But they’re pulling power from the shields into their plasma cannon. They’re going to hit us hard.”

  “Make sure we avoid it,” I said. “Begin evasive action now.”

  “Aye, sir.” He rolled us again, handling the controls with a deft touch and getting the Finch to respond immediately.

  A ball of energy pulsed from the Zodiac’s cannon toward us. It loomed large in the window as it shot toward us through space. Morrow pushed the yoke forward and I was glad the Finch was equipped with the same state-of-the-art G-stabilizers as the shuttle. Otherwise, everyone on the ship would probably be vomiting right now as our speed increased for a split second.

  But even Morrow’s evasive maneuver wasn’t enough to outrun the massive energy burst caused by the plasma missile’s explosion. The Finch rocked violently and Morrow shouted, “Shields are down, Captain. We’re totally exposed here.”

  I jabbed the intercom. “Ms. Prime, how long to get those shields back up?”

  “At least thirty minutes,” she said. “We’ve taken a hit and one of the power generators has been damaged. I can’t get enough power to energize the shields until it’s fixed.”

  “Get on that,” I told her.

  “Already on it,” she said.

  “How are the engines? We may have to make a run for it.”

  “We’re only at two-thirds capacity. We need to get that generator back online.”

  “Let me know the minute we’re back to full power,” I said before ending the communication.

  So we were an easy target. We couldn’t outrun the Zodiac and the next shot she sent our way could destroy us.

  “What’s our next move?” Vess asked me. His face still held a worried look and I wondered if he was considering the fact that he might never see his daughter again. If we were blown out of space, the traitorous Imperium soldiers working for Commander Everson would land on Savarea—maybe under the guise of a rescue mission—and kill every survivor from the Oregon.

  I wasn’t going to let that happen. I couldn’t.

  “Mr. Morrow, are their shields still at fifteen percent?”

  He checked the screen. “Seventeen percent now, Captain.”

  I made a quick mental calculation. Assuming the shields had been at one hundred percent before we’d started firing at them, we had taken out eighty-five percent of their efficacy with two strafing runs. So a third run should take them out altogether. Once the shields were down, the Zodiac’s hull would be just as exposed as our own. If we had enough firepower left on the run, we might be able to damage her before she could retaliate.

  “How much do you know about predator class ships, Mr. Morrow?”

  “Everything,” he said levelly.

  “So you know the best place to hit that one,”—I indicated the Zodiac beyond the window—“to take out her engines?”

  He considered it for a second and then nodded. “I know how to do some damage, yes.”

  “Then let’s do it. Take us in for another run. We should be able to take out her shields. Once they’re down, focus on her engines.”

  Morrow grinned. “Aye, sir.” He increased our speed and pointed the Finch directly at the Zodiac. “We’ll have to get underneath her for this to work. That means getting up close and personal.”

  I nodded. We had no choice. If we didn’t act now, we’d be blown into space dust by the larger ship.

  The Zodiac filled the entire window as we got closer, her hull a dull white beneath the faint electric blue glow of the shields. Morrow seemed to be biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. I realized I was gripping the arms of my chair so hard that my knuckles had turned white.

  “When you’re ready, Mr. Morrow,” I said, in case he was waiting for my order to fire the weapons. We were so close to the Zodiac’s shields, we’d hit them soon if we didn’t change course. And we were moving too fast and were too close to change course now.

  “A few more seconds,” Morrow whispered, almost to himself.

  Then he fired and the rail guns spat out their projectiles at the shield. We didn’t need the yellow tracers to show us the arc of fire because the shields flared with each impact until finally, they disappeared.

  We passed underneath the Zodiac’s hull and into a flurry of fire from her lower mounted cannons. The Finch shook from the impact as we were hit repeatedly.

  Morrow had gritted his teeth and was staring at his navigational computer as it displayed a diagnostic of the predator class vessel above us. “Got it,” he said. He pulled on the yoke and our nose lifted. The window showed nothing but white steel. We were close enough to count the rivets on the Zodiac’s hull.

  Then Morrow released two missiles before dropping the nose again and taking us out of range of the cannons. He turned his attention to another screen—one that showed an array of numbers. He grinned. “Two direct hits, Captain. Their engine capability has been reduced to forty percent.”

  “Good work,” I said. “Does that mean we can outrun them?”

  He compared the readout on one screen to that on ano
ther. “They have no chance of catching us,” he said. “The computer estimates that their engine repair will take at least six hours. We can get to the gate before that happens.”

  He slid his chair back to his usual console and typed on the keyboard there. “At our current reduced speed, we should be at the gate in eighty-four minutes.”

  If the damaged generator was brought back online soon, our speed would increase, reducing that eighty-four minutes further. We’d make it there before the Zodiac’s engines were fixed, but Partridge knew where we were going and it would be easy for him to follow us to Savarea and blow us out of the sky there.

  “Prepare to fire missiles,” I told Morrow.

  He looked at me closely for a moment but then said, “Yes, Captain,” and slid back to the console with the flight yoke and weapons systems.

  “There are extreme penalties for destroying an Imperium ship,” I told Vess, “but we don’t have any choice. The Zodiac will keep coming after us. It’s better to strike back now than be on the run forever.”

  “That sounds like a thought for the day,” Morrow said. “But we’ll be on the run anyway. Like you said, there are extreme penalties for destroying an Imperium ship. The penalty is, in fact, death. The Imperium won’t let us get away with this.”

  “They will when we show them that Partridge and Everson are working with the Outsiders,” I said.

  “And how are we going to do that?” He raised his eyebrows querulously.

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, we have to take action or be hunted down by Partridge and his crew.”

  “You don’t have to justify your actions to me, Captain,” Vess said. “That ship stands between me and my daughter so I say let’s blow it out of space.”

  I looked at Morrow. “Whenever you’re ready. Unless you’d like me to push the button.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have a problem pushing the button.” He fired off three missiles. They sped toward the Zodiac and hit her underbelly, causing flashes of fire and eruptions of metal where they struck.

  “We’re being hailed by the Zodiac,” Morrow said.

  “On screen.”

  The screen showed Partridge on a bridge that was caught in chaos. Crew members ran back and forth, trying to put out fires on the computer consoles. An alarm rang stridently and red lights flashed. A female computerized voice was repeating, “Damage critical” over and over.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Blake?” Partridge asked, his face a mask of fury. “This is an act of war. You’ll be hunted down by the Imperium wherever you go. Not even the remotest corner of the galaxy will be able to hide you. Cease fire immediately and we can discuss this like rational human beings.”

  I unfastened my safety belt and got up from the chair. Stepping over to the control console, I said to Partridge, “Human beings are the people you’ve betrayed. It’s you who’s carried out an act of war.” I leaned forward over Morrow’s shoulder and pressed the missile release button.

  When the missile hit the Zodiac, the Imperium ship seemed to break into two pieces, cut down the center by a series of bright yellow and orange explosions. The image on the screen wavered for a second and then went dead.

  CHAPTER 11

  I SAT on the sofa in my quarters with a glass of rum on the table before me. We’d passed through the final gate twelve hours ago and had met no resistance from any other ships, Imperium or otherwise. I felt tired and in need of a drink. But even though I’d poured the rum as soon as I’d entered my quarters, I hadn’t taken a sip of it yet. It sat, untouched, on the table and had been there long enough for the ice cubes to melt into the dark, spiced drink.

  Since destroying the ISS Zodiac, I’d had time to consider the consequences of my actions. I had no regrets but I knew that when it was discovered by the Imperium that one of their ships had been destroyed by an Avis class fighter known as the Finch, they would issue a warrant for our arrest—or, worse, a kill order. We would be fugitives from the most powerful force in the galaxy. Partridge had been right when he’d said there would be nowhere to hide.

  The only way to clear our names was to prove to the Imperium that Partridge had connections with Commander Everson at Druun-9 and that Everson was working with the Outsiders. Then, instead of being branded fugitives, we’d be heroes for uncovering a plot against the human race by rogue members of the Imperium.

  But how far did the Outsiders’ influence stretch? I suspected Commander Everson to be in league with them but what about the other Imperium commanders near Druun-9? Or, for that matter, what about members of the Imperium all across the galaxy? The corruption could go deep, maybe even all the way to the Imperium Supreme Headquarters on Earth.

  That thought made me feel cold inside. Ever since I was a farm boy in Idaho, the Imperium soldiers had been my heroes. I’d read about them in comic books, seen them on TV, and read every Imperium Adventures novel I could get my hands on. They had the coolest weapons, the best armor, and the fastest ships. They protected the galaxy from the evil Horde. They were the good guys.

  At least, that was what I’d believed. When I left my sheltered existence on the farm and joined up, I realized that not everything was so black and white as the comic books and TV shows portrayed. There were shades of gray. But every single member of the Imperium lived by one inviolable law: protect the human race from the Outsiders and their Horde.

  Now, it seemed that law had been violated.

  The medical team had written up a report regarding the autopsies of Provost and Gorman. The two dead soldiers had no toxins in their systems, no drugs, and no obvious damage to their brains. The medical examination had been a dead end, revealing nothing about the Outsiders.

  I picked up the rum and gazed at it through the condensation on the glass as if I could scry a vision of the future in the dark liquid. But the future was unknown. We might rescue the survivors tomorrow or we might be blown out of the sky by an Imperium ship. In a way, I preferred not to know. If destiny was inescapable, there was no point trying to run from it. Better to fly toward it unknowingly at faster-than-light speed. At least I’d die on a ship in space and not in an alley on Iton-3.

  Now I was getting maudlin. I considered drinking the rum. It wouldn’t help my mood any—in fact, it might make it worse—but it seemed a shame to let it go to waste.

  The computer signaled that I had a call from the bridge.

  “Blake,” I said.

  It was Baltimore’s voice that came from the speakers. “Captain, you’re needed on the bridge. There’s something you need to see.”

  “On my way.” I got up, adjusted my uniform, and checked the blaster. Then I left my quarters and headed for the transporter.

  The rum was left on the table, untouched.

  CHAPTER 12

  WHEN I STEPPED onto the bridge, Morrow, Baltimore, and Vess were standing in front of a wall-mounted screen on which I could see some sort of news broadcast. As I got closer, I saw my face on there. The photo was an old one, taken when I’d joined the academy. There were also photos of Vess, Baltimore, Morrow, Hart, Prime, and Shibari.

  “These are the people thought to be responsible for the destruction of the ISS Zodiac,” a female voice was saying. “The Imperium Supreme Headquarters on Earth released a statement just one hour ago, naming the suspects and their ship, an Avis class fighter with the designation of Finch. This information was retrieved from the Zodiac’s auto-log before the ship was destroyed by the Finch. The Imperium headquarters released the following piece of footage, also retrieved from the Zodiac’s log.”

  An image appeared on the TV. It showed the bridge of the Finch as seen on Partridge’s screen during our communication. I was standing behind Morrow and Vess was seated at his console. I looked at the camera and said, “Human beings are the people you’ve betrayed. It’s you who’s carried out an act of war,” and then leaned over Morrow to press the button that fired the final missile at th
e Zodiac.

  The female voice said, “It’s believed that Shaun Blake, the man seen pushing the button that brought about the destruction of the Zodiac, was once an Imperium captain himself but disappeared after his own ship, the ISS Oregon, was destroyed.”

  Vess pointed the remote at the TV and turned it off. “We’ve seen enough of that,” he said.

  “So now we’re all wanted criminals,” I mused. “But if the Imperium has the log of my conversation with Partridge, why didn’t they show the earlier part where I named Everson and said that he and Partridge were working with the Outsiders?”

  Vess looked at me solemnly and said aloud what I’d been thinking about in my quarters. “Perhaps the corruption goes deeper than we think.”

  “All the way to Supreme Headquarters?” Morrow asked. “If the Outsiders are running the Imperium, then we really are fucked.”

  “That isn’t necessarily the case,” I said. “If whoever retrieved the log sent a redacted version to Supreme Headquarters, editing out the part where I mentioned Everson and the Outsiders, the Imperium SHQ might not know anything about the traitors in their organization.”

  “Or the Imperium Supreme Commander is an alien,” Morrow said.

  I didn’t want to believe that just yet. Even though we were on their wanted list, I still had to believe that the Imperium was an efficient fighting force that could combat the Horde and was free of corruption at its highest levels. Because the alternative was too dangerous to consider and could mean the end of the human race.

  “I’m sure we can still clear our names,” I said. “We just have to get evidence against Everson and prove that Partridge was working with him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Morrow said. “They put a kill order on our heads. Every Imperium soldier in the galaxy has been ordered to kill us on sight. You’ll never get close to Everson. You’ll be shot down as soon as you get anywhere near Druun-9. We need to get out of here and find a place to lay low for a while.”

  “No, we continue with our mission as before,” Vess said. “I won’t leave my daughter stranded on an alien planet just because we’re being chased by a bunch of soldiers.”