The Long March (The Exiled Fleet Book 2)

by Richard Fox

  “Crawfish,” Thorvald said to one of the MPs. “Light him up if he steps out of line.” He went back to the lift, pointed fingers at his eyes, then turned the fingertips to Loussan as the doors shut.

  “He’s fun,” the pirate said, rubbing his wrists as the cuffs came off.

  “This is the Anchor, I presume,” Gage said. “What’s the next step?”

  Loussan hopped up on the command dais and tapped a panel. He tapped it a second time, then a third, and gave Gage a disappointed look.

  Gage walked up next to Loussan, the corner of his mouth pulled into a half-sneer.

  “Needs must,” Gage said and put his palm against a panel. “Tank, set to general access. Command authority to biometric authorization.”

  “Now I’m at the helm of my very own Albion battleship.” Loussan cracked his fingers and began typing.

  “Don’t push it,” Gage said.

  “There’s more than one way through Kigeli. Watch.” The entire nebula, a segment several light-years in volume, appeared in the holo, the fleet’s location pinging at the bottom. White lines bounced from the Anchor like cracks in a broken pane of glass up through the nebula to a point in open space. Additional routes appeared from the other rogue planets, some intersecting with the jagged path starting at the Anchor.

  “The Harlequins have a grav-buoy network through the nebula. We’ll make short slip jumps from one to the next. I have to access the buoys at each jump, so best get used to me being up here. Perhaps my own chair?” Loussan asked.

  Gage stared at the man.

  “Well, if I don’t ask, the answer is definitely ‘no.’” Loussan accessed the laser communication array and directed a beam down to a mountain range on Anchor. A connection established and Loussan typed out a long code. The connection flashed green and navigation data flooded into the holo tank.

  Branches on the pathways from Anchor through the nebula fizzled out, stopping three-quarters of the way through at a dashed line connecting to a point with a solid path through the rest.

  “That’s…not as bad as I feared,” Loussan said. “The buoy on terminus seventeen was always a little flaky. The problem’s either in the relay or the buoy’s readers. Either way, we can still make it through. Just have to do a bit of maintenance when we get there. Kick it a few times.”

  “What’s the margin of error for transit?” Gage asked. “With all the stray rocks in there, my ships stand about as much chance as a bubble floating through a thorn bush.”

  “Tight, but not impossible.” Loussan lifted data from the holo and tossed it up. A mock-up of the 11th rearranged itself into an oblong formation, barely a few hundred meters between ships. “Your navigators can handle this?”

  “That’s well within minimum safe distance,” Jellico said.

  “But you can do it?” Gage asked her.

  “It’s iffy, sir,” she said. “There’s a risk of collision during slip transition. Push the formation out another ten percent and it’s more manageable.”

  “You expand and the outer ships might smack into a rock,” Loussan said. “The buoys can read a dangerous object on the ley lines—can give us a jump solution around it—but we’re threading a needle tighter in some parts than others.”

  “We’ll take the least risky option where and when we can,” Gage said. “Plot our course.”

  ****

  “The Ajax, Valiant, and Stiletto need time to mitigate battle damage,” Price said to Gage. The three ships floated in the holo tank, each with several systems highlighted in blinking amber. “We’ve been going essentially nonstop since Siam. The entire fleet could benefit from two or three days at anchor. Else we run the risk of…the Retribution.”

  “I’m aware,” Gage said.

  “I spoke with the Hephaestus’ captain. She could have the void docks and factories set up within six hours. Repairs done in less than two days for the critical issues,” Price said.

  “Have you ever sent a ship to void dock and come out on schedule?” Gage asked.

  “No, sir. The dock always finds something else that needs to be fixed or they break the rest of the ship in the process of fixing what’s already off-line.”

  “This nebula is a decent place to hide, but I’d rather have more distance between us and the Daegon than not.”

  “Commodore?” Ensign Clarke at the communications station stood up. Gage waved him over. He hurried, face pale, lips white.

  “What is it?” Price asked.

  “I went through our logs,” he tapped a screen and a list scrolled through the holo tank, “checking to make sure our laser comms aren’t back scattering off any of the receivers, and I found this.”

  He opened a single message and a jump equation came up.

  “It’s the same data Loussan gave us to leave Anchor,” Clarke said, “but it didn’t go to any of our ships. It went to the nexus points over the other rogue planets that side of the nebula, and according to the time stamp, it went out seconds before we entered slip space.”

  “Loussan was on his way back to the brig,” Price said.

  Gage felt dread build in the pit of his stomach and pulled up the map through the nebula. Three worlds near Anchor had routes to their first stop—much shorter routes.

  “The Faceless,” Gage said.

  “Someone must have set up a splitter in the antennae array,” Clarke said. “Recorded the information and sent it out manually. I never would have found it if I hadn’t gone through the logs manually.”

  “He told the Daegon where we’re going,” Gage said. He looked over the map, then tapped his chin. “But this could be an opportunity. Get Thorvald and Tolan back up here.”

  ****

  Tolan rolled a crawfish tube around his hand and felt a tug on his mind. The urge was there, a scratch to return to his quarters and have another go at the Dizzy the Martian had given him. He grimaced, willing his face to hold steady for a bit longer.

  He looked back at Thorvald and a trio of armed naval police. All had their backs to the bulkheads like Tolan.

  The Genevan touched the side of his helm, and the armor closed around his face.

  “Teams B and C are set,” he said.

  “You almost sound excited,” Tolan said.

  “The discovery of the lamprey device on the antennae array was a clue to Ja’war’s activity on board,” the bodyguard said as he powered up his pistol. “That none of the crew with access to the antennae fit the general description of Ja’war when he left the locker room means he’s assumed another identity.”

  “Kind of a rookie mistake,” Tolan said. “A Faceless can be many people, but he can only be one place at a time.” He raised a communicator to his ear. “Bridge, ambush element in place. Go for head count.”

  “Now hear this! Now hear this!” boomed through the ship’s public-address system. “All section heads conduct immediate personnel accountability checks. I repeat…”

  “Five minutes is the standard to send a thumbs-up or down?” Tolan leaned forward from the bulkhead and asked the armsmen.

  “That’s right,” one said.

  “This is the only passage open to the antennae array,” the spy said. “Ja’war’s going to be in a hurry to get back to the commo section to get counted or in a hurry to leave the commo section and get counted somewhere else.”

  Thorvald raised a stun pistol in his other hand. “You sure we can subdue him? I was taught the Faceless are more resilient than average people.”

  “I’m not so confident in this plan that we shoot anyone that comes down that passageway in the head without question or hesitation,” Tolan said, “but a couple crawfish hits or stun bolts will put him down. He can’t keep his face under that kind of trauma. Then we shoot him in the head with real bullets.”

  “Don’t take him alive?” one of the armsmen asked.

  “I made that mistake once,” Tolan said. “I don’t aim to repeat it.”

  “Movement in the passageway,” an armsman said as he lo
oked up from a handheld screen. “Coming right for us.”

  Tolan heard the thump of boots striking the deck at a run. The sound grew faster, almost discordant.

  “Three personnel,” the armsman said.

  “Crap.” Tolan looked down at his belt and drew his second—and last—crawfish. The sound of footfalls grew closer.

  “We need to see which fits the description before we subdue Ja’war,” Thorvald said.

  “No, you imbecile, stun all three or he’ll—”

  Thorvald stepped around the corner and raised his pistols.

  “Halt!” the Genevan shouted.

  Tolan flipped the safety cap off a crawfish and joined the armsmen as they ran out and blocked the passageway.

  Three crewmen in helmets and engineering coveralls stood in the passageway. All had their hands up, and one struggled to hold a case up by the handle.

  “Commo just reported a power spike in their main conduit,” said the female sailor with the case. “We were counted. Chief sent us over with the replacement part. You want to hurry up before the whole array gets fried?”

  Tolan flicked the safety off his second crawfish.

  “Helmets off,” Thorvald ordered.

  “I’ll get left and middle,” Tolan said. “You get right. On three.”

  “I have this under control,” the Genevan said.

  Two of the engineers popped off their helmets. One was male, the other female and almost the same height and description as Ja’war when he left the locker room. The sailor with the case struggled to get her helmet off with only one hand.

  “Has to be either middle or the other woman,” Tolan whispered. “I’ll take them both down.” He shook the two crawfish and felt the drones inside hum to life.

  “This thing’s too heavy,” the engineer with the case said. “Mind if I—”

  The case emitted a high pitch.

  “Down!” Tolan turned and leapt around the corner as the case exploded. A wave of overpressure smacked his head against the deck and sent stars blazing past his eyes. He rolled over onto his back, ears ringing.

  The ship swirled around him and the smell of seared meat and copper wafted over him. He coughed and struggled to sit up. Two of the armsmen lay crumpled against the bulkhead, and he saw the feet of the third down the passageway. The bulkheads had a red tinge, and dark bits of sludge oozed to the deck.

  Tolan saw one of his crawfish lying a few feet away. He crawled toward it, the sounds of emergency sirens and men groaning in pain growing louder as his ears recovered. He reached for the crawfish, and a boot slammed down onto his hand, pinning it to the deck.

  Challons looked down at the spy with disgust, then his face morphed to obsidian.

  “Pathetic,” Ja’war said.

  Tolan heard the rattle of Thorvald’s armor from behind.

  Ja’war picked up the crawfish and hurled it at the Genevan. The drone inside snapped from the case and latched on to Thorvald’s chest. Electricity arced out of the drone and locked up Thorvald’s armor, freezing him like a statue. He tilted forward and smashed the crawfish against the deck with his bulk.

  The Genevan didn’t move.

  Ja’war grabbed Tolan by the throat and hoisted him into the air.

  “You think you could catch me in something so simple? So basic?” Ja’war snapped.

  “Sort of,” Tolan gagged as Ja’war’s grip tightened.

  “I am the greatest assassin the galaxy’s ever known. After this, no one will know what you did to me.” Ja’war tossed Tolan to the deck and drew a pistol.

  Behind Ja’war, the plates on Thorvald’s armor shifted away from his spine, revealing bare flesh beneath.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Tolan held his hands in front of his face and shrank back like a hand-shy dog. “You think those Daegon give a crap about your reputation? They’re not the covert-action types. We Faceless are for jobs without attribution, without any suspects. You think they need or want us in their world?”

  “A contract must be carried out, and you are no Faceless,” Ja’war said. “You are a poor imitation,” Ja’war rolled his head in a circle, and his voice changed to match Tolan’s, “but you’ll do.”

  Tolan let half his face go slack, almost dropping from his skull. Ja’war’s face mimicked Tolan’s and the assassin growled.

  “Want to imitate me to get around the ship now?” Tolan pulled the other side of his face into a rictus grin. He watched from the corner of his eye as Thorvald rose out of his armor, naked but for a skintight wrap around his waist. The Genevan picked up a pistol.

  “Now who’s the imitator?” Tolan asked.

  Ja’war shifted back to his Challons guise.

  “I was going to make it quick.” Ja’war lowered his pistol to Tolan’s stomach when a shot rang out and Ja’war stumbled forward. He half-turned and fired blind as he made for a turnout of the passageway.

  Tolan heard a grunt of pain from Thorvald, then Ja’war swung his pistol toward the spy as he rounded the corner. Tolan rolled as Ja’war fired and fire erupted in his right thigh.

  Tolan yelped and slammed his hands against the bullet wound while blood spurted from his fingers.

  Thorvald, one hand against his own bullet wound on his side, lurched forward. The bodyguard looked all too vulnerable without his armor and blood trickling down his side.

  “Help me,” Tolan said. “I’m bleeding worse than you are.”

  The Genevan slowed to a stop, then turned back to his armor lying on the deck. He raised a hand and the armor reformed. The hollow suit crawled toward Thorvald, then froze solid.

  “No. Don’t abandon me…” Thorvald fell to a knee, then collapsed to the deck.

  Tolan heard shouts and felt the vibration of more of the Orion’s crew coming for them. He felt a chill creep up his limbs and his mouth smacked with thirst.

  “Not dying today,” Tolan said. “Not today…”

  ****

  Clarke braced himself against the casing of the antennae array and shimmied up another foot. The inside of the array was not as tight as a coffin, he assured himself, but there sure wasn’t room for anyone else in here.

  The last time he’d done a chimney sweep, as commo sailors called any trip through the inner workings of the ship’s array, he’d been a very junior sailor. He’d worked hard to get promoted away from jobs that involved very tight places and the risk of electrocution if all the systems weren’t shut down properly. That he was doing this as the Orion’s senior communications tech would have irked him to no degree if the situation was different.

  “Come on, where are you…” he said. He edged up again and found a black box bolted to one of the data lines.

  “Bingo.” He took a data slate from his belt and ran a line to the box. The slate lit up and text scrolled across. “Split command file…check. Looks like you’ve got multiple injects. Don’t have to go back to the same place to send data. Smart. Decent setup. I’m almost impressed.”

  The bang of a wrench against the inside of the array carried through the metal.

  “Yeah, short window of opportunity. Nice setup you’ve got here, Mr. Terrorist Guy. Sure would be a shame if someone were to…hack it.”

  Chapter 17

  Gage gripped the railing around the command dais as the Orion came out of slip space.

  The orange haze of the nebula surrounded the ship and slight waves of static floated across the shields. A dark, uneven circle loomed in the distance and a protostar lit up the far right of the screen like a spotlight in fog.

  Loussan raised his arms and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Ring of Fire.”

  “Spare the theatrics and access the buoy,” Gage said. “I don’t like the look of this place.”

  “As you shouldn’t.” The pirate shook a finger. “The Ring is a bit of a bastard. Might have become a planet, but some collision stopped that from happening. Now she takes that frustration out on passersby.”

  “Loussan…” Gage put a hand to his face.


  “Set course through the Ring,” the pirate said. “Straight down the middle. That’s the only place we’ll get line of sight to the buoy and get our next jump solution.”

  “Sir,” Jellico said, looking up from her screens, “the radiation from the protostar’s scattering through all the silicate near the toroid.”

  “Toroid?” Loussan asked.

  “The Ring,” Gage said quietly.

  “Yes, I knew that.”

  “Sensors are useless beyond a few hundred meters, and from what little I can pick up, the risk of an asteroid strike is extremely high,” Jellico said.

  “We normally man point defense cannons and run shields through here,” Loussan said. “And we always get a few dings, sometimes worse. Expect to lose ship-to-ship comms as well. We can regroup inside the Ring.”

  “Sir,” Jellico said meekly, “would you like to know the odds of navigating through this without serious damage?”

  “They don’t matter.” Gage ran his fingers down a screen and opened a channel to his fleet’s ship commanders.

  ****

  An asteroid the size of a city bus tumbled through the nebula, leaving a faint whirl in the thin gas as it arced toward the Orion. An energy bolt snapped past, leaving a streak of superheated plasma in its wake. A second bolt shattered the asteroid, blasting it across the heavens. Fragments rained down on the Orion’s shields, one hunk the size of a suitcase making it through the shields, which had been weakened by the deluge.

  The hunk smacked against the hull, then bounced up and struck the bridge. Gage ducked aside as the asteroid broke against the view port, leaving a spider web of cracks behind.

  “Another hit to starboard,” Price said. “Hull buckling on decks seven and twelve.”

  The forward cannons fired, straight lines tracing out of the weapons and into the nebula, where twin explosions erupted deep within the haze. The lines dissipated, crumpling against the hull as the Orion advanced.

  “We have a status update from the rest of the fleet yet?” Gage asked.