The Long March (The Exiled Fleet Book 2)

by Richard Fox

  “But what if we’re right?” Inez asked. “Prince Aidan lives. The royal family is still a part of Albion. I’ll take that hope over the Daegon boot, thank you very much.”

  “Who else knows about this?” Seaver asked.

  “The Intelligence Ministry,” Smith said. “They’ve been spreading it through their networks. I believe it, but I also think it could be a ploy to keep the nobles from surrendering completely to the Daegon, from going full collaborator.”

  “That’s why Smith here dragged me out of New Exeter,” Allen said to Seaver. “They want me on camera telling the story.”

  “Are you with the Intelligence Ministry?” Seaver asked Smith.

  “No, kid, I’m just a patriot.” Smith opened a drawer and tossed Seaver a pack of food vacuum sealed in plastic. “Eat up and go to sleep. Who knows when you’ll ever get another chance like this.”

  Seaver ran his hands across the food pack, never more excited to eat cheese tortellini in his entire life.

  There was a shuffle just outside the door.

  Smith pulled a small pistol out of a vest.

  “O’Reilly’s supposed to cut the lights before he sends someone through,” Inez said.

  “Maybe someone else found the place on their own.” Powell licked her lips nervously.

  The door opened a few inches and Smith leveled his pistol at the opening as he moved to put himself between the door and Allen.

  Five silver balls rolled into the room. One veered toward each occupant and bounced into the air. Seaver kicked at the object, but it bounded over his foot. Spider legs snapped out from the ball and clamped down on his shin. Prongs bit into his skin and electricity arched down the legs and into his body.

  His body seized up and his mouth locked open, a scream frozen in his chest.

  Chapter 10

  Gage ran his hand up the flap of his tunic. The stiffness in his shoulder had almost faded away. Dr. Seaver had spent a good half hour doting over him in the med bay, and her few comments about Thorvald’s field dressing and minor surgery gave Gage a good deal more confidence in the Genevan’s abilities.

  The Commodore checked his uniform in a mirror. He didn’t see the battered and bruised man that came back from Sicani. That was not the look of a leader that needed his captains to believe in him, to follow him on a damned fool’s crusade.

  “Sir,” Bertram said as he stuck his head into the Commodore’s ready room, adjacent to the Orion’s bridge, “all ships online and ready for you.”

  Gage glanced at a clock.

  “What ship was last to check in?” Gage asked.

  “Captain Arlyss on the Renown. Just now.”

  Arlyss on the Renown. Admiral Sartorius once told Gage that making oneself available just minutes before the commander’s call was tantamount to insubordination in the Albion Navy. Arlyss, the scion of a wealthy noble house on the home world, had not taken well to Gage taking command of the fleet after Sartorius’ death. If the reason sprang from Gage’s common birth, that he went to a less prestigious academy, or that Arlyss had been on the short list to be Sartorius’ aide-de-camp and should have inherited the command, Gage wasn’t sure. Any and all the potential gripes Arlyss—or any of the other noble-born officers—could have were reasonable explanations.

  “Bertram…does the crew know what happened on Sicani?” Gage asked.

  “Know…what exactly?” The steward’s eyes darted from side to side. “Certainly your negotiations with the pirates were no one’s business but yours. Do you think Thorvald’s been talking up a storm again? Spreading scuttlebutt to the lower decks where—”

  “The fight with Loussan. Has word got out to the crew?”

  “I may have shared the high points with Grisham on the flight deck, Paolo in the galley. Then there’s that cute med tech with the blue eyes and—”

  “Who’s the steward on the Renown?”

  “Petty Officer Norville, sir.”

  Gage turned away from the mirror and raised an eyebrow at Bertram.

  “Who should hear the story in all its glory, yes sir.” Bertram straightened up and clicked his heels together. “Do believe I understand, sir.”

  “You’re a good man, Bertram.” Gage walked toward the door to the bridge. Mutinies relied on a significant portion of a crew acting together. When given the choice between a Commodore that beat a pirate lord in a sword fight to save the fleet, or an abrasive captain with a chip on his shoulder, Gage was certain the crew of the Renown would choose wisely. Arlyss was many things, but not a fool.

  Gage strode out onto the bridge and made for the raised command dais in the center. Crew nodded respectfully to Gage as he passed, more than one gaze lingering on his now-healed shoulder.

  Captain Price stood back from the command dais as Gage went up the stairs.

  “Sir, good to see you all in one piece,” she said.

  “Not a place for shore leave,” Gage said. He scanned the data in the holo tank, his gaze stopping on his fleet, the vessels arrayed in a diamond shape with the Orion at the center. He touched a keypad and a wire diagram of the Retribution, Barlow’s ship, came up. Her engines and power plant flashed amber.

  “Fusion core’s running at sixty percent efficiency,” Price said. “She was supposed to go into dry dock for servicing but was kept flying for the mission to Siam. Battle damage during our last fight with the Daegon made whatever problem she’s having even worse. The Retribution’s having the least amount of engine trouble in the fleet. I tasked a team of engineers to augment the Retribution’s repair crews. Status report due in an hour.”

  “Well done, XO,” Gage said. He swiped a hand through the holo and dismissed the Retribution. He zoomed out and found a single pirate ship on a convergence course with his fleet. He touched the Carlin’s icon and changed it from “threat” to “neutral.”

  Price sucked air in through her teeth.

  “Bless me…I never thought I’d see the day,” she said.

  “Politics makes for strange bedfellows. War…stranger still.” Gage flipped a switch at the top of his control panel and holos of the captains of each of the 11th Fleet’s ships came up in the tank.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s begin,” Gage said. “I have negotiated safe passage for the fleet through wild space to the Indus world of New Madras. We’ve already received grav-buoy data for the jump to…by our star charts CX-12722, the locals refer to it as Gilgara. From there, we will be escorted to Indus space.”

  “Does this escort have anything to do with the Harlequin ship on an intercept course?” Arlyss asked.

  “It does. The…locals were not willing to share jump data all the way to New Madras. Instead, they will guide us the rest of the way once we reach Gilgara. Captain Loussan—”

  Gage kept his mask of command steady as the captains recoiled slightly at the name and more than once tried to interject their disagreement.

  “Captain Loussan,” Gage continued, “has rescinded his vendetta against me after some intense negotiations.” He felt his injured shoulder twitch. “His is the only pirate clan that can get us to Indus space. The Daegon have advanced toward the core worlds, and we lack the supplies and power to do a hard bore to friendly territory.”

  “You want us to trust a pirate?” Captain Arlyss asked. “One who wanted to kill you—and by extension, all of us—until just recently? One who’s been indicted on a litany of charges in civilized space? You think he’s actually going to keep his word and not leave us stranded in the Kigeli Nebula to rot? With all due respect, sir, I think you’ve—”

  Gage cut Arlyss off with a tap to his screens.

  “Loussan agreed to do this in exchange for information we’ll provide to all the clans. They will hold him accountable if he manages to escape. In the meantime, if he does try to cross us, we’ll blow him out of space. He will either deliver or be killed by us or his fellow pirates. That’s sufficient leverage for me to trust—no, never trust—be reasonably certain he’ll follow through.
All ships will maintain a constant firing solution on his ship. Now, for our guide.”

  Gage double-tapped the Carlin’s icon with his thumb and forefinger to open a hail, then tossed a small window that popped up into the center of the tank.

  Loussan appeared a moment later. The pirate looked from one side of the Albion captains to the other. He brushed hair off his shoulders, revealing a pink scar along one side of his neck.

  “Don’t everyone thank me at once,” Loussan said.

  “Captain, please explain how you’ll guide us to New Madras,” Gage said.

  “The path is rather dangerous, especially for so many large and cumbersome jackbo—Albion ships such as yours. I wouldn’t take this route with anything larger than my Carlin, but this is what you want, so you’ll get it,” the pirate said. “Once we arrive at Gilgara, I will access my clan’s grav buoys and share the jump solution with you all. From there, we will jump to the Kigeli Nebula and make our next jump to a star with a strong slip connection to Madras. I will leave you there, as I seem to be persona non grata with the Indus for some minor incident years ago.”

  “You robbed a medical transport heading for the civil war on Peshawar,” Price said dryly.

  Loussan rolled his eyes. “The medical supplies still made it to Peshawar. The belligerents just paid a little more for them.”

  “And how the hell will we get through the Kigeli Nebula?” Barlow asked. “It’s a stellar nursery eight light-years across. Parts of it are protostar systems. Dust and rock halos nearly a thousand AUs from the stars. No one’s ever navigated through it before.”

  “At least one of you has an appreciation for the finer points of slip-space travel,” Loussan said. “To correct—Barlow, is it?—your misconceptions, no one from the core worlds has ever navigated the Kigeli Nebula. We know a relatively safe route, one that’s become worse over the years and cut off fat worlds from our attention, but it can be done.”

  “Curious that you’ve kept it secret for this long,” Gage said.

  “The Harlequin clan set up the route at great expense. We set up a few surprises along the way, obstacles only ships’ captains know how to get around. Lowers the risk of crew changing their colors and sharing trade secrets,” Loussan said. “And don’t think you’ll ever be able to navigate it without me.”

  “How long will this journey take?” Gage asked.

  “A few days…give or take. The gravity lanes can be a bit temperamental.”

  “Maneuver the Carlin to here.” Gage dragged the pirate ship’s icon to just ahead of his fleet formation. “We’ll send over a tight beam transponder and communications system once you’re in place.”

  “That’s awful close to your ships.” Loussan tugged at his collar.

  “Yes, well within our close-range weapon systems. You try to sneak off and the rest of our guns will open fire,” Gage said evenly.

  Loussan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut with a click of teeth.

  “Given the circumstances, I can’t say I blame you.” Loussan raised his nose slightly.

  “All ships, you have your instructions. Make ready for slip space once the Carlin is in formation.” Gage ended the conference call.

  ****

  The Orion snapped out of slip space. A barren, asteroid-pummeled world lay in the distance, swamped by the light of a blue star, as a pair of overly large moons alive with volcanoes and lava flows circled the world.

  The rest of the 11th Fleet appeared, scattershot around the Orion for dozens of miles.

  On the ship’s bridge, Gage unbuckled himself from his chair and pulled off his helmet as he made for the holo tank.

  “Conn, status,” Price said.

  “All ships report in. Ship dispersion is way above normal. There’s a graviton anomaly somewhere in the system that must have thrown us off a bit as we hit the stars’ outer gravity well,” the lieutenant said.

  “Scope is clear, sir,” the gunnery officer said. “Nothing on passive sensors coming off the planet either.”

  “CX—” Price shook her head slightly, “—Gilgara’s nothing but a ball of rock. No metal core to mine. Radiation is absurd. The moons make the surface unlivable. Not hard to believe this system was never settled.”

  “Where’s Loussan?” Gage asked. “Where’s the Carlin?”

  The pirate ship materialized within the holo tank just behind and below the Orion. It coasted ahead, pulling amidships with the Albion battleship.

  “Guns, work up a firing solution,” Gage said.

  “Aye aye, practically point-blank,” the lieutenant commander said.

  Loussan appeared in the holo tank.

  “Ahh, no one here to greet us. Thanks for checking on that. So sorry we were a bit tardy. Did I mention the graviton lensing from the Wicked Sisters?” Loussan asked. “Tends to futz with anyone entering the system.”

  “Every time you withhold something, my trigger finger gets a little itchier,” Gage said.

  “You have any idea how to get out of this system?” Loussan asked. “The Sisters make calculating a jump solution back to Sicani rather difficult, but if you want to set up a colony on Gilgara, you’re more than welcome to. The fire and brimstone rain only lasts most of the year.”

  “What’s our next step, Loussan?” Gage asked.

  “Down to business, finally.” The pirate looked away and gave curt orders to his bridge crew. A course plot came from the Carlin, one that took them within the nearer moon’s orbit.

  “We need to weigh anchor at this Lagrange point between Gilgara and Susan. From there, I’ll provide the jump formula to the Kigeli Nebula. I suggest you raise your shields. Susan’s and Natalie’s volcanoes throw up a good deal of rock while Gilgara’s gravity cleans it out.”

  “Curious names for moons you call Wicked Sisters,” Gage said.

  “The first Harlequin’s ex-wives. Yes, sisters; he was a different sort. Now will there be anything else or should I go back and fret while you keep a knife at my back?”

  Gage cut the transmission.

  “XO?” Gage asked.

  “Course plots true to the Lagrange point,” she said from the conn station. “He’s right about shields. The ejecta will chew our hulls up if we pass through at march velocity. We have to raise shields right as we begin deceleration. This will be a slow trip.”

  “Keep the fleet on yellow alert. Two flights of ready fighters at all times with the rest of the Typhoons ready to launch in less than ten minutes. We’re staying on our toes.” A message flashed on Gage’s control panel and his lips pulled into a slight frown.

  “There’s an issue I need to address. Price, you have the bridge.”

  ****

  The pair of armsmen outside Prince Aidan’s quarters snapped against the bulkhead as Gage came round the corner, Thorvald just behind him. Gage walked up to the door, expecting it to open automatically, and almost bumped into it.

  “Genevan changed the door protocols,” one of the armsmen said. “My apologies, Commodore.”

  Gage knocked hard, and the sound of a child bawling carried through the door. The armsmen inched away.

  The door opened and Gage found himself face-to-face with Salis, a young Genevan woman in armor but for her exposed face and head. On her chest was a smear of mashed sweet potatoes, corn, and green beans.

  Aidan’s bawling intensified amidst Bertram’s attempts to calm the child.

  Salis stood aside.

  “I take it he still doesn’t want to wear his vac-suit,” Gage said and entered, the door sliding shut behind him.

  “I had to threaten to sedate him before Bertram could lock the helmet down,” Salis said. “I would have done it for the sake of the Prince’s safety, which would have only made my duties that much more difficult in the future.”

  “He’s a child on a warship, Salis. This environment is not meant for him, no matter what we do to make him comfortable,” Gage said.

  “And I am not—” She bit her lip and the armor plate
s on her shoulder slid down her arms, then back up. “Forgive me, Commodore. I was not trained in matters of child-rearing. Wish me to plan full-proof security for delegations from warring factions? Done. Find the vantage points for counter-sniping teams? Simple. Defend you from a half-dozen armed assailants? With ease. But taking care of a child, especially one who’s gone through such recent trauma…”

  “It is beyond your purview, I understand.”

  “My oath is to protect the Albion royal family. Nothing is beyond my purview…though some things are beyond my skill set.”

  “You’re doing better than I could manage, Salis.”

  Gage walked through Admiral Sartorius’ old quarters and into the main bedroom. Toys manufactured in the Orion’s fabrication shops were strewn across the room. On the bed, Aidan lay under the covers, sobbing. Bertram held a tray, the meal spilled across the metal and onto the steward’s sleeves.

  “This menu isn’t to his liking,” Bertram said sheepishly. Gage motioned to the door and Bertram hurried out.

  Gage sat on the bed and rested his forearms against his knees. He ran a hand through his hair and felt exhaustion taking hold, like he was a windup toy and the key in his back was slowing down.

  “Go ’way!” Aidan said.

  “Hello, my Prince,” Gage said.

  Aidan yanked the covers off his head and rubbed tears away. The five-year-old crawled out and latched on to Gage’s arm. He wore a smaller version of Gage’s own vac-suit, the Albion royal crest sewn onto his chest.

  “I was scared,” the Prince said.

  “That’s all right. Everyone on the Orion gets scared when it’s time for battle stations.” Gage winced at the last two words.

  “Not Salis. She’s only mean.”

  “She has the most important job on the ship—protecting you. She doesn’t have time to be anything but very serious.”

  “I don’t like her. Send her somewhere else.”

  “Would you rather Thorvald stay with you?”