by Peter Grant
The Pride of the Damned
Cochrane’s Company, Book Three
Peter Grant
Sedgefield Press
Copyright © 2018 by Peter Grant. All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Cover art and design by Steve Beaulieu
https://www.facebook.com/BeaulisticBookServices/
Spaceship adapted from an image by Luca Oleastri, licensed via https://www.dreamstime.com
This book is dedicated
to my friend and fellow author,
MICHAEL Z. WILLIAMSON,
who encouraged me to get started
on my own writing career,
and supported my fledgling efforts
with enthusiasm. Thanks, buddy!
Contents
1. Disruption
2. Defiance
3. What next?
4. Quandary
5. Quest
6. Dilemma
7. Healing
8. Council
9. Infiltration
10. Default
11. Tidings
12. Coupled
13. Plans
14. Consultations
15. Reunion
16. Incentive
17. Purchase
18. Spacejack
19. Salvage
20. Peril
21. Evasion
22. Decisions
23. Ramp-up
24. Takedown
25. Invasion
26. Destruction
27. Evacuation
28. Extermination
29. Bianca
Epilogue
About The Author
Books by Peter Grant
1
Disruption
NEW SKYROS
Captain Pernaska gazed out through the viewscreen. His office aboard the brand-new depot ship Qemel was far more comfortable and spacious than those of his three previous commands. He knew he should be allowing himself to enjoy it: but the ever-present fear that their enemies would somehow sabotage these ships spoiled any chance of that.
He could see the distant specks of light, each ten kilometers from his spaceship and each other in an equidistant triangle, that marked the positions of the equally brand-new destroyers Gemini and Leo. The first of their sister ships, Aries, had vanished in deep space during her delivery voyage the previous year, along with a freighter, Rades, carrying four full missile reloads. They didn’t know how Hawkwood had managed to destroy them, but they were sure the space security company was responsible. After all, who else could it be? Only the second destroyer, Taurus, had arrived safely, to join their older ships at the Brotherhood’s secret base.
The loss had been staggering in financial terms, but even more damaging in terms of casualties. The passage crews sent to collect the destroyers had comprised many of their most experienced spacers. They simply could not afford to lose such well-trained, highly skilled people. It had left them in an even more parlous situation as far as the rest of their crews were concerned. The Brotherhood had had to struggle mightily to free up enough high-quality spacers to collect these new ships. If anything happened to them, too… the prospect didn’t bear thinking about, particularly since this time, he might be among the victims. He shivered. That was not a cheerful thought.
A moving speck of light grew nearer and larger, resolving itself into a small senior officer’s gig. It slowed as it moved toward the docking bay at the rear of his new command, switching from gravitic drive to reaction thrusters as it entered the field generated by Qemel’s drive unit. He watched approvingly as it passed out of his field of vision, grasped by tractor and pressor beams in the docking bay and drawn into one of the airlocks ready to receive small craft.
He turned away from the viewscreen at last, took from a hook his heavy black uniform jacket with its four stripes on the sleeve, and put it on. Picking up his cap, he went out of the office, thumb-sealing the door lock behind him, and entered the small conference room on the far side of the lobby. Coffee and snacks had already been laid out for his guests. He poured himself a cup while he waited for them to arrive.
A spacer hurried down the passage, snapping to attention in the doorway. “Commander Pernaska and Commander Sulaj are here, sir.” In echo to his voice, the Captain heard their footsteps approaching.
“Thank you, spacer. Return to your duties.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The two officers entered. The Captain smiled warmly at his younger brother. “Is everything well with Gemini, Burim?”
“As well as can be expected with a brand-new ship. We’re still finding minor problems here and there, but nothing a screwdriver or hammer can’t sort out quickly enough. The trials went well. I think she will handle like a thoroughbred once all her systems have been bedded down.”
“And Leo, Commander Sulaj? Is she in good shape as well?”
“I think so, sir,” the other skipper replied as he hung his cap on a hatstand next to the door. “We are finding the same small issues as Gemini, but nothing serious. What about your depot ship?”
“Qemel was finished almost a month ahead of your vessels, so we’ve had more time to work her up and make sure all parts are taking an even strain. I’m satisfied with her. Help yourselves to coffee and snacks, then let’s get down to planning the final full-power trial for your destroyers tomorrow, and provisioning all three ships. We’re scheduled to leave in less than a week.”
They were hard at work, annotating lists of supplies to be loaded and cross-checking how their stowage would affect the balance and longitudinal stability of their ships, when the intercom on the sideboard chimed urgently. “Officer of the Deck calling Captain Pernaska!”
The Captain frowned, walked over to the set, and pressed a button. “Captain speaking.”
“Sir, a cutter from New Skyros’ System Patrol Service has arrived. It’s carrying an official from their Foreign Ministry, and an inspector from the United Planets. They say – they say this ship – all three of our new ships, sir – they say we’re under arrest!”
“What? Why? On what grounds?”
“I – I don’t know, sir. They say they’ll explain the situation to you. They’re demanding to see you at once.”
“I… All right. Have them brought to the conference room, and we’ll find out what’s going on.”
He turned, to find the destroyers’ commanding officers staring at him open-mouthed. “What the devil can it be?” his brother demanded.
“Your guess is as good as mine. It can’t be anything our crews have done on liberty at the orbital space station. We’ve made sure they behaved themselves.”
It was far worse than that. The UP inspector explained, “We monitor sales and shipments of major arms systems between planets. It seems Tarakan ordered a squadron of destroyers from New Skyros, plus a depot ship – this one, as a matter of fact. The first two warships were delivered by Metaxas Shipyards almost a year ago, but we were recently informed that they still have not arrived at Tarakan. One of our inspectors went there to investigate. He confirmed that Tarakan had provided an end-user certificate, stating that it was the purchaser, but the ships weren’t there, and the planet’s System Patrol Service denie
d having seen them. He’s therefore placed a non-delivery restriction on the rest of the order. Metaxas can build the ships and test them, but they can’t sign them over to their new owners, and they can’t leave this planet, unless and until the complaint is resolved and the whereabouts of the first two destroyers have been established.”
All three officers had to bite their lips to hold back a vituperative outburst of fury. The Brotherhood had gone to immense trouble and expense to set up the fake end-user certificate, and paid almost double the going rate for Metaxas to ignore obvious discrepancies – not least of which was the fact that Tarakan was too poor a planet to afford even one destroyer, much less a full squadron of them. Now that mammoth investment, and their ability to defend themselves and carry the fight to Hawkwood, was in the gravest jeopardy. If they could not satisfy the UP’s inspectors…
Captain Pernaska managed to say, “What about the destroyers’ final full-power trial run tomorrow?”
“That can go ahead,” the Foreign Ministry official informed him, “but our System Patrol Service will put armed guards aboard all your ships immediately. As soon as the final test has been completed, the ships will be brought back here and assigned a long-term parking orbit, along with your vessel. Furthermore, the destroyers’ missile pods are to be removed immediately after the test. We don’t have space in our orbital arsenal to store their six pods each, plus the twenty-four reload pods you’re carrying. Therefore, the destroyers’ pods will be brought to this ship, for storage in one of your holds until this matter is resolved. All three ships may be provisioned as required, but their reaction mass and nuclear reactor fuel will be reduced to the minimum required to maintain their parking orbit. They won’t be allowed to load enough to depart for another planet.”
“And our crews?” Commander Sulaj demanded.
“Obviously, you’ll need to maintain an anchor watch aboard your ships. What you do with the rest of your officers and spacers is up to you. That’ll be for your account, of course.”
“Can we appeal against the non-delivery restriction?” Commander Pernaska asked.
“You can, but I doubt it’ll help,” the inspector replied. “The complaint originated off-planet, and the order was issued by another UP sector office. All I’m doing is conveying it to you. Your appeal would have to be sent to that office for consideration. Unless they’ve located the first two ships of the order, and found out why they didn’t arrive at the planet when they were supposed to, and what they’ve been doing since that time, they’re unlikely to entertain it. I don’t suppose you can provide that information, can you?”
He looked at the three officers with a carefully expressionless face. Like all weapons transfer inspectors, he was well aware of the many and varied tricks – including falsified end-user certificates – used to obtain military hardware by those who weren’t legally entitled to buy or operate it.
“I’ve no idea,” the Captain replied, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “We’re employed by Kreshnik Security, which has a contract with Tarakan. We’re passage crews, that’s all. We take the ships where our bosses tell us. Surely Tarakan’s government should answer your questions?”
“Yes, they should. I’m surprised they haven’t already. Still, that’s the situation at present.”
“I’ve brought a System Patrol Service detachment with me,” the Foreign Ministry official informed them. “They’ll be stationed aboard this ship from now on. She is not to leave this orbit, unless to move to another one assigned to her by Orbital Control. Two more SPS detachments are on their way to the destroyers. They’ll be staying aboard them until further notice, too.”
When the officials had taken their departure, the Captain ground out, struggling to control his anger and concern, “We must report this at once to Agim Nushi. I shall go myself. Since we cannot use our own ships, I shall have to use commercial travel.”
“Scheduled services will be too slow,” his brother pointed out. “You would have to make at least two connections to reach Patos. You must charter a communications vessel.”
“That will cost a great deal,” Sulaj objected. “We do not have enough in our passage funds to cover it.”
“You are right,” the Captain agreed. “Return to your ships, and inform your crews of what has happened. Continue with preparations for tomorrow’s test run. While you are busy with that, I shall consult with Pellumb Istrefi planetside. He will have to pay for a communications vessel out of the Brotherhood’s construction budget.”
Commander Sulaj bustled out, almost running as he headed for the docking bay and the waiting gig. Captain Pernaska motioned to his brother to remain behind for a moment. “Be very careful about preparing for the test run tomorrow,” he warned him, “and pass this on to Commander Sulaj as you travel back to your ships. We must make sure that none of the System Patrol Service detachments bring anything aboard that might be used to sabotage our ships. Hawkwood must have set up this complaint to the United Planets. They are damnably clever! It will take months to bribe a more senior UP inspector to lift the non-delivery order, and allow our ships to depart. At least Metaxas can continue to build the next two. They have already started construction. We may have four destroyers ready by the time we are able to leave.”
The Brotherhood’s liaison officer to Metaxas Shipyards was busy with a call when the Captain arrived at his office, shortly before lunchtime the following day. He waved the officer to a seat as he finished his business.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I heard the news when I arrived this morning. What are you going to do?”
“Inform Agim Nushi and the Brotherhood Council, of course. They must decide what to do next.”
“Yes, of course. I shall send them a message, too, advising that I have told Metaxas Shipyards to continue with construction of the fifth and sixth destroyers, pending resolution of this mess.”
“Can you charter a communications ship for me, to depart right away? I don’t have enough funds to pay for it myself. I want to report this as quickly as possible.”
Istrefi’s face fell. “That will be difficult. Most brokers offering such vessels for hire will want at least a few days’ notice to load fuel and supplies, and get all the crew aboard. I know one who might be able to help us – he’s done so in the past – but it will cost extra for such haste.”
“Pay it. We cannot afford to delay.”
Istrefi placed a call. “Put me through to Ermis Stavros, please… Hello, Ermis. Pellumb here… Yes, I am well. Listen, I need a courier ship to go to Patos, as quickly as possible. Is anything available that can leave not later than tomorrow?… Yes, it really is that urgent… I’ll be very grateful if you would, please. If they’re prepared to wait, I’ll gladly pay them a cancellation fee and charter their ship instead… All right. You have my comm code. I’ll wait for your call… Thank you.”
He put down the comm unit, smiling. “We may be in luck. A ship was due to leave today, but the passenger has been taken ill. He asked the ship to wait in orbit for a few days while he recovers. Ermis doesn’t have a ship of his own, but he knows the skipper of that one. He’ll ask whether we can take over the charter, given the delay. We’ll pay him a commission to act as our agent. He’ll charter a replacement ship for the original passenger.”
“That would be excellent.”
The comm unit trilled within a few minutes. Istrefi picked it up. “Yes, this is he… Wonderful! Thank you, Ermis!… Yes, my client will board early tomorrow morning… Hold on.” He muted the comm unit. “Who will you send, Captain? Ermis needs the name for the passenger manifest.”
“I’ll go myself. I’ll leave my Executive Officer in charge of the ship. Commander Sulaj is next in seniority, so he’ll act as senior officer on station until I get back, or someone is sent to replace me. The Brotherhood may send more passengers back in the same ship, though.”
“Very well. Ermis? It’ll be just one passenger going there, Captain Spartak Pernaska. There may be more on th
e return trip. How many passengers can the ship accommodate?… Twelve double cabins. Very good. What is the charter fee?… All right. I’ll transfer the funds to you at once, plus your usual commission, plus a bonus for your trouble. Please ensure the ship takes aboard enough supplies for the trip to Patos… Yes, I will. Thank you very much.”
As he put down the comm unit, he said, “I’ll transmit my latest report to you by this evening, so you can take it with you.”
“I’ll deliver it,” Captain Pernaska promised. “Keep Commander Sulaj informed of anything you hear, and help him if he runs into any more problems. He’ll need your guidance on dealing with the local authorities.”
In the offices of Stavros Shipping, Henry Martin endorsed a bearer bank draft and handed it across the desk. “Thanks, Ermis. You’ve earned your money today, and then some.”
“I’ll have the ship head for Constanta as soon as the prisoner has been secured, immediately after its first hyper-jump out of this system. We’ll hand him over to Hawkwood for questioning.”
“Make sure your crew knows that they must never breathe a word about this. Thanks for holding the ship on standby in orbit for me. It came in really handy today.”
“We aim to please, especially for well-paying clients like you. I’ll have another ship standing by for you within a week, as soon as I can arrange a replacement.”
