The Gray Matter (Rebels and Patriots Book 3)

by A. G. Claymore

  “You can’t put me in here with an ordnance technician, third grade,” the captain protested blandly.

  “Well, we couldn’t find an ordnance technician, second grade,” the Marine told him cheerfully. “Look at the bright side: when they find out how you lost your ships, the disparity in rank will get a lot smaller.”

  With that, he slammed the cover shut and activated the stasis field.

  Feint

  “Sensors are back up,” the tactical officer confirmed. “Target is directly ahead; distance is forty-five thousand klicks.”

  “Beat to quarters,” Ava ordered.

  The rest of the fleet has come through the jump successfully and their reported positions are well within tolerances,” the sensor officer added. “We…

  “Contact!” Tactical interrupted. “One times frigate turning to meet us. Designating as Tango Foxtrot One.”

  Ava considered it to be a good sign. The Grays were guarding their production facilities after all. That hadn’t been true a few weeks ago, when a scouting ship had passed this way. The raids were starting to have an impact on the Quorum. They were spreading their forces out in an attempt to cover as many installations as possible.

  How thinly would their high-value targets be protected if they were wasting ships out here?

  “Focus fire on Foxtrot One first,” Ava ordered. “We’ll hit the mine once we clear their defense.”

  A single frigate was no defense at all – not when the Humans were attacking in force. Being on the offensive conferred a major advantage. Ava was keeping her forces concentrated, allowing her to completely overwhelm any defenses found at her targets. The Grays, on the other hand, had thousands of stations and installations in need of protection and no idea which one might be hit next.

  “We could fire a few rounds at the mine from here,” the tactical officer suggested. “The frigate’s an impossible target at this distance but the asteroid can’t move out of the way. There’s a chance the frigate might try to block the shot, seeing as it’s their duty to protect the mine.”

  “Tempting, but no,” Ava replied. “If he doesn’t block the shot and we take out the mine, then there’s no reason for him to stick around, or us, for that matter. He’d just jump out and report the loss. We need that frigate dead and we need the miners screaming… well… mumbling for help.”

  The tactical officer shook his head. “You’re right, of course. I didn’t think that through enough before I mentioned it.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” she reassured him. “I’d rather hear ideas that miss the mark than have you hold back. We could miss a good idea that way.”

  “This still gives us an advantage,” he said. “The frigate captain will expect us to fire on the mine instead of at him. We should fire the mains at twenty thousand and aim for the mine. If we load the sub-munition rounds, we can adjust them onto the frigate at the last second. He’ll never expect it.”

  Ava nodded thoughtfully. “Should catch him off guard.” She grinned at him. “See why I don’t mind half-baked ideas? Work up the firing solution and fire when ready.”

  The tactical officer turned back to his station where his rating was already working out the timings and angles. They were almost within firing range now.

  “Starting to resolve the locations of their communications gear,” the sensor officer advised. “Marking the long-range array for the final shots.”

  “Stand by for firing of the main guns,” Tactical announced.

  “Standing by,” the helmsman replied. “Steady as she goes.”

  At maximum distance, there was little need to slave the helm to fire-control. The traverse of the main guns was more than sufficient to bear on target.

  “Firing.”

  The demonic moan of the mains shook the deck, rattling Ava’s bones, and the four rounds streaked away.

  “We’re picking up signal activity from their long-range array,” Sensor advised, “lots of activity.”

  “Good,” Ava acknowledged. “As long as they think there’s still a mine to save, the Grays will send help.” She darted a glance at the chronometer where a countdown was running.

  “Rounds are changing trajectory.” The tactical officer leaned in closer to the holo display.

  Sub-munitions were ejecting from one side of the main rounds, imparting a slight amount of force each time and nudging them toward a path that would impact the Gray warship. At five kilometers, they released the remainder of the sub-munitions, hitting the ship with a cloud of rounds at fifteen times the speed of sound.

  If the Gray captain had realized what was coming, there was no way he could have reacted in time. The last-micro change of target had worked perfectly and his ship was now drifting with a buckled hull and ruptured conduits and it was venting atmosphere.

  Ava opened a fleet-wide channel. “All call-signs will focus fire on Foxtrot One. Weapons free for targets on the trace in order of prioritization.”

  At the moment, the mining complex and the long-range communications array weren’t on the trace and Ava had left her captains in no doubt as to their fate if they fired on those targets without authorization. She needed the mine to keep calling for help.

  A hail of fire was unleashed on the damaged frigate. The already weakened shields were no match for the heavy rounds from the cruisers and one shield generator was torn loose from its mounts and forced out through the far side of the hull, a cylindrical segment of shielding fading around it as the built-in backup power was depleted.

  Some of the ships were still firing at the frigate but most were already moving on to other targets on the list. Satellites, support structures and storage facilities began wilting under the barrage.

  “Tactical, Foxtrot One is out of the fight,” Ava ordered, opening the fleet-wide channel. “All call-signs, turn to orbital insertion path.”

  The icon for the frigate went gray to stop her captains wasting ammunition on it.

  “Another burst from the long-range array.” The sensor officer turned to Ava. “It’s a match for the first transmission but with more added to the end.”

  A second call for help and, probably, a warning that the Humans were moving into orbit rather than destroying the mining complex right away. It represented a chance to catch the attackers flatfooted.

  “Target the long-range array,” she ordered.

  It was out of the traverse arc of the mains but it would have been overkill anyway. The secondary batteries screamed a salvo and, though her Gray-built cruiser was light on secondaries, it was more than enough for the task.

  “Long-range array destroyed,” the tactical officer announced, looking to Ava.

  She nodded. “All call-signs, focus on the mine as we pass. Stand by to jump when the countdown hits zero.”

  Trying to coordinate a jump using regular communications was too imprecise so they were all running the same countdown clock. When it hit zero, they’d jump out.

  Ava spent the next ten minutes searching the sector holo for signs of inbound enemy ships while keeping an eye on the damage they were doing to the surface. The time to jump crept up on her faster than she would have expected.

  “Eject the shuttle,” she ordered.

  An older shuttle, one that they’d been cannibalizing for parts, was pushed out through the shielding of the port landing bay. It went tumbling down into the atmosphere, quickly acquiring a shock-layer of ionized, high-temperature air. There were too many openings in the small craft and, as it tumbled, the heated gasses found their way inside, tearing the vehicle to flaming shreds that rained down near the wreckage of the mining complex.

  “Jumping,” the helmsman called out, “in three, two, one…”

  The planet shimmered and slipped away as the fleet moved the Universe past their position.

  “Fifty centis to the target,” the nav officer said. He craned his neck from side to side, working out the tension of the previous engagement.

  “Very well,” Ava replied. “Secure fro
m general quarters. XO, make sure everybody gets food and rest before we arrive. You have the conn.”

  “I have the conn,” he confirmed.

  She headed for the mess hall. Half a day to the real target, which meant, hopefully, a half day in transit for the target’s protective force as they tried to respond to the emergency call from the mine. Considering the delay required to organize and launch a relief force, she should have slightly more than half a day to deal with whatever they found at the Gray shipyards.

  And the debris from the sacrificed shuttle might convince the enemy that the Humans were genuinely interested in the mine for some reason. It was a long shot, but it increased the probability that the Grays would stick around to scan the site just a little longer.

  She usually preferred to attack replenishment sites but the shipyards reportedly had more than eighteen cruisers in the final stages of construction and they’d be far easier to destroy in space dock than they would with a full crew and ammunition load. The yards would also be of use in repairing battle-damaged Gray ships, so the target still satisfied her primary criteria.

  Stalk

  “He’s coming out,” a young dragoon said over the secure earpieces Paul’s team was wearing. “Just one man but he looks like a teufelhund, alright. Gods, you actually have to order these guys to stop getting haircuts, don’t you?”

  “Tim, you’re up.” Paul shifted his gaze to the man leaving the bar behind the Marine. “Just a splash is all we need.” He resisted the urge to start his vehicle right away and move closer.

  They’d given thought to kicking in the front door and interrogating the Marines inside, but Paul had talked them out of it. Talking about capturing and interrogating an Imperial Marine was one thing; actually doing it was quite another.

  And there were better ways to find out who the Marines at Your Name Here were reporting to.

  “Goushi!” Tim feigned a stumble as he reached the bottom step and splashed his beer on the bag in the Marine’s hand. He was looking back accusingly at whatever had tripped him when the Marine stopped.

  Tim turned to leave, wobbling slightly, when he seemed to notice the angry Marine glaring at him. “Shorry, bud. Did… did I get shome on you?” He wavered apologetically, taking a quick emergency step to the side to regain his balance.

  The Marine shook his head, turning to resume his course and Tim stumbled off in the opposite direction. There were cameras everywhere so he’d have to stay in character till he could get off the street.

  “Starting to get a read.” Daffyd was frowning down at a holographic interface projected from a small ball-shaped module he’d set on the floor between his feet. It was nearly the same size and shape as the sensor pickup that was reading the signal from the nanites.

  He glanced over at Paul. “The nanites need to dry before they activate. We’re building signal but it’s slow.”

  “You’re the one who insisted we use beer…”

  “Well, we could hardly just toss a miscellaneous powder on the bag, now, could we?” the engineer shot back. “I built a nanite farm, designed the bots and grew them all in less than a day. Sue me if they don’t have an anaerobic cycle. Better ideas were taking priority at the time.”

  “I would but you don’t have anything I want…”

  “Signal strength is getting better,” Daffyd interrupted. “Let’s keep him within five hundred meters, just to be safe.

  Paul started up the vehicle and slid out into traffic. They pulled off every time a parking spot opened up and gave their quarry a chance to rebuild his lead on them. They came to an intersection and the barriers came up, stopping their lanes but no traffic was flowing in the other direction.

  The Marine ignored the flashing red signs and walked across the empty lanes.

  “Gavno!” Daffyd leaned forward. “We’re going to lose him! He’s already near the limit for this pickup.”

  “We’re boxed in.” Paul shut down the engine and the vehicle settled to the pavement.

  “What the hells?” Daffyd demanded. “He’s getting away and you’re just gonna park in the middle of the lane?”

  “Just grab your balls and come on.” Paul slid the doors open and hopped out, giving an apologetic wave to the honking vehicles behind them. “Sorry,” he shouted. “A recall just came through the link and shut her down. Something about exploding fuel cells with unusually high noise sensitivity.”

  The honking ceased before he made it around to Daffyd’s door. “C’mon! We’re not going to catch up sitting here like a couple of idiots.”

  Daffyd shoved the pickup ball in his pocket and stepped out with the holo unit in his left hand. “About as inconspicuous as a Bishop on Narbonne. I can’t read the interface and run at the same time…”

  “Move!” Paul turned him in the right direction and started jogging toward the slidewalk. He stepped on and scanned the stretch on the other side of the intersection. By the time Daffyd stumbled onto the walk, Paul had already been carried along by at least ten meters.

  He hurried to catch up. “I’ve lost the signal,” he panted. “We could try again next week.”

  “You think he might start getting suspicious when somebody spills beer on him once a week till we get this right?” Paul shook his head. “No. We managed to get your bots on the bag. I intend to find him. Sooner or later, they’d check the public feed and see Tim hanging around and…”

  His eyes narrowed. “Tiancai!” He started across the empty intersection, the red warning light turning green halfway across. “Put the projector in your pocket.”

  The public network gave full coverage of the entire station and, here they were, fiddling around with a half-kilometer-range pickup. He’d already cracked the station’s security protocols. It was child’s play to access the sensor net.

  He started with a query, tracing Daffyd’s projector ball back to the pickup, finding the signature of the nanites they’d sloshed on the Marine’s bag. He quickly found the same signature using the station network and overlaid it on his own view of the station rather than projecting a retinal image that he’d then have to read as a map and translate into the surrounding terrain.

  A bright orange shape was bobbing along to his right, one block over and heading back the way they’d come. “He’s doubled back,” Paul told Daffyd.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I tapped into the station’s sensor feed. He’s still moving at a regular pace. I don’t think we spooked him; he’s just engaging in a few countermeasures out of professional pride. Must be one of the special operators from the 538.”

  “Come on.” He led Daffyd back the way they’d come, his CPU mapping out the edges of the buildings and showing him where alleys and tunnels would allow them to shift over to the street where their quarry was now walking. “Let’s follow him from this side of the block for now.”

  “He’s almost halfway back to the bar at this point,” Daffyd muttered. “Probably gonna turn soon or he’s on one hells of a detour.”

  “Which is why we’re staying on this street,” Paul explained. “If we move over to him and he turns right, then it looks odd for us to turn back again.”

  Sure enough, their target took a right turn and Paul put out a hand. “Let’s slow the pace a bit,” he said quietly. “We don’t want to get ahead of him.”

  The Marine crossed the street forty meters in front of them and continued on toward the river.

  “Hope he’s not heading for a boat,” Daffyd said quietly.

  “That could prove problematic,” Paul replied mildly. Though he suddenly had a feeling as he looked down the gently curving canyon of buildings to where an island was visible in the middle of the river.

  A series of turbines on the upstream side appeared to have been the power source for an abandoned industrial facility on the island. Whatever they made there must have used a lot of water or it certainly would have been more efficient to put the site on the station’s mainland.

  Whatever the
y’d made there, they weren’t making it anymore. The place was obviously deserted and had been for years. He knew Kinsey would have seen the advantages of such a location. They had a clear field of view in all directions and it would be a difficult place for a rival gang to assault.

  A man convinced he was being hunted by Imperial agents might find some measure of security on a small island like that.

  It became more likely as they followed their quarry. Having made his one perfunctory attempt at throwing off pursuit, the Marine now headed steadily toward the riverbank, sped along at twice the normal walking speed as he strode along the constantly moving slidewalks.

  He crossed the riverside street and took a stone stairway to the riverbank.

  Paul and Daffyd jogged a couple of steps as they walked off the end of the last slidewalk and reached the low stone wall just as a small boat hummed away from the jetty below.

  “Just as well we left the van behind,” Daffyd said, “or you’d be asking me if I could turn it into a boat right about now.”

  “We are going to have to get someone inside that facility,” Paul insisted. “Kinsey may be in there or he may be somewhere else entirely. We need to know before we try to raid the place.”

  “Well…” Daffyd pulled out his holo projector and nodded down the stairs. “… I did mention having higher priorities than making the bots active in water, right?”

  They moved down the stairs, away from the crowded street, and sat on a bench under a small stand of apple trees.

  Daffyd held up the ball. “Link me up.”

  Paul fed the nanite data to his projector and a menu sprang up in front of them. Daffyd set the ball on the bench, the projector keeping the menu in place based on the position of his face.

  He scrolled through a few menus and opened a command line. “When I activate this,” he warned, “we’ll have limited visual capability for a short time before it kills the power cells.”

  “Firstly,” Paul said, “Cai bu shi! And secondly, how long will it work?”

  “Yes way! And I’m not really sure but it should be at least a half centi.”