The Shattered Empire (The Shadow Space Chronicles Book 2)

by Kal Spriggs

  Commodore Moore flushed, his olive skin dark, “Not that I doubt your capabilities, but I helped to design the sensor array in the Wenceslaus system. I know full well that it has overlapping arrays.”

  “But this was before you retired, some twenty years previously,” Garret said. “And I doubt they've upgraded their systems since.” As he saw the Commodore's face darken still further, Garret hurriedly added, “While you used the best technology available, at the time, I'm certain without an officer like yourself to look after things, their maintenance must have suffered. Also, Captain Oronkwo's ships have the best stealth systems money can buy.”

  Commodore Moore nodded slowly, “You do have a point, Captain. However, I am worried that with the delay of twelve day travel there, even with the five day journey back here, we will not be well positioned to benefit from his scouting operations. Also, things may well change drastically in that time.”

  “That's an excellent point,” Captain Stavros said. “Captain Oronkwo, do you happen to mount one of the newer model ansibles on your vessels?”

  “I do,” Oronkwo said with exaggerated patience. Garret winced at that. Clearly the mercenary captain had reached the end of his patience with the Halcyon Commodore, not that Garret could blame him.

  “My own vessel mounts one as well, how wonderful,” Stavros said with another of his broad smiles. “That would allow us to coordinate, not only over distance, but to do so en route. A great boon.” He looked at Garret, “What range, would you say, Captain, would your Hammers be effective at with their improved ammunition?”

  Garret frowned. That kind of information could prove deadly if the pirate sought to use it against them. At the same time, it wasn't something that Admiral Mannetti, at least, didn't have available from sensor data. “No more than thirty thousand kilometers.”

  “My own vessel's maximum range is twenty five thousand kilometers,” Stavros said. He looked at the Commodore, “Your two Independence-class cruisers have a maximum range of twelve thousand kilometers with your heavy rail-guns, correct?”

  Commodore Moore grimaced, “That's true enough.” He clearly didn't like to admit to a more limited range. Garret wasn't sure if that was because it made his ships seem older or less capable, or just some sort of inferiority in general.

  “Well, then,” Stavros said with another broad smile, “Perhaps we can use this to our advantage, no?” He adjusted the diagram and highlighted the fleet base. It was a large station, with a modular design similar to most Colonial Republic stations. Half of it was in use by the civilian traffic in the system. That was, Garret knew, in part to provide some protection against a surprise attack. Although some pirates and even some Colonial Republic officers had shown the callousness to perform such attacks regardless of the civilian casualties, the hesitation to do so by anyone with even a sliver of a conscience meant most Colonial systems would accept the risk of making their civilians hostages to their enemies good behavior.

  “We obviously can't hit the station without giving the civilian population time to evacuate,” Stavros managed to say that in a fashion that sounded as if he didn't really care. “However, we can freely engage any vessels in orbit, particularly if we emerge in a flanking position so our fire will not threaten the planet.” Stavros pointed at a position only a thousand kilometers above the planet's surface, inside the orbit of the station.

  Garret nodded at that, although his rounds were 'smart' they continued to travel if they missed their targets. Atmospheric friction, at the speeds they traveled, would barely slow them. The missiles they carried, while more advanced and better maintained than the Colonial Republic ones, were still subject to the occasional glitch. If one coasted into atmosphere and smashed into a town, even without detonation, it would cause massive loss of life.

  “My own vessel, also carries two squadrons of light fighters, ideal to screen the Hammers from any ready fighters while they engage real threats,” Stavros said. “While your own ships can launch missiles on any patrol vessels near to the planet, and we would be close enough that they would hesitate to fire back, at risk of hitting their own world.”

  Garret winced at that. It was a cold thing to do and a terrible position for the defenders. They would have to chose between defending themselves and risking damage to the planet they defended. Their own fire would almost certainly strike the planet if they missed. Even interceptor fire aimed at missiles, particularly the thirty millimeter cannons favored throughout the Colonial Republic, could potentially penetrate the atmosphere to strike the planet.

  “We can almost certainly destroy any vessels which do engage us at minimal cost to ourselves. Also, from there, your ships could move forward and board the station, take charge of any ships we wish to take, and we can depart.” There was some levels of risk to the plan, but it did offer substantially less risks to their raiding force, Garret thought. It's also one of the coldest ways to go about fighting: hit the enemy by surprise, use their own people against them, and put them in the position where they can die or surrender.

  Evidently Commodore Moore felt even more strongly about it, “That's a terrible way to wage war, Stavros. In all likelihood we'd be killing ships and crews before they even had a chance to suit up or bring systems online. Worse, we'd be using their own civilians as weapons against them!” He shook his head, “It's just as well that we can't rely on any kind of navigation system to get us that kind of pinpoint accuracy to a shadow space jump.”

  “Not a navigation system, no,” Stavros said, “But a psychic navigator? I wager mine could do it. And if you're worried about killing them when they're not ready... well, that's all well and good if you're the strong side, but Halcyon isn't. In all likelihood, those same crews you're worried about killing wouldn't hesitate to bomb your cities from orbit when given the orders... or to loot your cities, enslave your people, and have you and your crews executed for treason.” There was a cold edge to Stavros's normally emotive voice, as if he spoke from some dark experience of his own. Garret had heard that Stavros came from Greece, on old Earth. Perhaps he thought of how wretched life was there, with violent gangs fighting over the bones of the old, ruined cities or maybe it was something to do with the civil war in the Centauri Confederation, which claimed Earth.

  Surprisingly, Captain Oronkwo spoke up as well, “Commodore, this is a war. We'll be engaging legitimate military targets. In particular, you'll have my ships there to spot for you ahead of time. With an emergence that close to the planet, we retain the ability to withdraw safely in case of any type of larger enemy presence, before they can safely engage us.”

  Commodore Moore grimaced. “We'll need to review this, look over the calculations, particularly with the ranges of your ships and the probable locations of enemy vessels.” His voice was reluctant, yet Garret saw that his resolution crumbled in the face of his notional subordinates disagreement.

  Garret looked over at Stavros Heraklion and met his gaze. For just a moment, his blue eyes seemed to have a strange, calculating look to them, as if he were trying to take Garret's measure. The moment passed though and the pirate's smile held nothing more than cunning and self-interest. The plan is good, Garret thought, not surprising considering it probably follows standard pirate doctrine, hit hard, put yourself in a position where the enemy can't fight. No wonder Stavros had survived so long as a pirate. He had enough bestial cunning to use civilized behavior against his enemies and enough intelligence to not cross over the line into atrocities that would have entire fleets after him.

  Really, the plan sounded similar to one of Tommy King's raids that Garret had studied during his time in training. The pirate had brought his entire fleet into low orbit in the New Paris system and engaged the defending fleet from where they didn't dare return fire. He'd destroyed over a dozen Colonial Republic ships before the commander withdrew and then looted several of the planet's major cities and departed before a relief force could arrive.

  Garret supposed he should be glad that Stavros
was less successful a pirate than Tommy King. The legendary pirate had at least limited his ravages to specific targets, by and large. Stavros seemed too opportunistic to limit himself to targets over some kind of philosophical, ideological, or moral grounds.

  Commodore Moore still seemed a bit shaken at having his entire plan discarded, yet done so in a way that he couldn't take real offense at. “Well, gentlemen, I'm glad we all worked together to form this plan and I look forward to our work together, which will no doubt build strong relationships we can depend upon.”

  At his words, Garret felt his stomach twist. He wasn't certain if the Commodore really believed that or not, but it sounded rather like something he was told to say... perhaps from his political backers, maybe even the ones who wanted their alliance with Mannetti. A glance at Stavros showed another of his broad smiles, yet there was a predatory edge to it, one that suggested any kind of friendship with him would last only until he saw better profits in betrayal.

  I'll keep my eyes open, Garret thought, even if the rest of my planet seems determined not to see the wolves they've brought in to guard the sheep, this is one sheepdog that isn't confused by their fawning behavior.

  ***

  Lauren bit her lip nervously as she waited in the rented room. She had set up the rendezvous to meet with Mason away from both prying eyes and ears as well as away from the psychic who he seemed to trust implicitly. The Baron trusted her too, Lauren thought, but she's here, which means either she abandoned him or he sent her away. Either way, she didn't entirely trust the other woman, as friendly as she was.

  Lauren didn't really trust anyone, especially not right now. She had begun to rethink a lot of her recent decisions of late. She wished she had someone to talk with, about some of her assumptions and about some of her feelings. I made my decision to follow Mason because I respected him, Lauren thought, because he offered me a different life and I was sick of losing people. Yet some small voice whispered that she had really accepted his offer to come with him because of some other expectations. Not that he had ever even hinted at any kind of interest in her, she knew, nothing other than the one kiss on Port Klast.

  She wasn't certain that they would have full security here or that someone wouldn't manage to get some kind of eavesdropping equipment in place. She had obtained a room whose narrow window looked out on the blank wall of the next building over, with just a sliver of sky dimly visible above. Still, she hoped that their enemies would assume that Stavros merely had some tryst planned and not anything more sinister.

  There was a sharp rap on the door and she checked the sensor she had mounted on it to confirm it was Mason before she opened it. “Were you followed?”

  He wore his most inconspicuous of Stavros's normal wardrobe, a black shirt, barely open at the top, and gray pants. He gave her a smile as he slipped inside. “Of course. I shook them off at a brothel, though.”

  She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, so she let the comment slide. She moved over to the room's single chair and gestured for him to take a seat on the bed.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her as he took a seat, “What's the problem?”

  Lauren took a moment to collect her thoughts. “What are your intentions with Lucretta Mannetti?” She didn't like the hard edge to her voice... yet she wasn't very good at hiding her disapproval.

  He gave her a confused look, “Uh, find out her goals here, prevent her and Collae from stabbing your good Baron in the back, and maybe even find a way to bring the both of them down.”

  “All well and good,” Lauren said. “But where in there does a make-out session fall?” It's not like I'm jealous of her, Lauren thought, I'm just worried about the effect she might have on Mason. She saw Mason flush and then set back. Something dark haunted his eyes for a moment.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was even and measured, but she could hear how carefully he chose his words, “I'm not certain how you know about that, but I didn't plan for that to happen. I'm not going to lie and say that some part of me doesn't respond to her... but I'm also repulsed by her. There's some aspects of her that my darker nature are drawn towards. The way she's wired, the mentality that she can manipulate everyone is disturbing to me, not least because it reflects some of my worst sociopathic tendencies. She's dangerous in more ways than one, but my goals haven't changed.”

  Lauren stood and put her hands on her hips, “So if you're not interested in her... shouldn't you think about how to handle the next little rendezvous she has planned?”

  Mason's face went blank. “I hadn't really thought of that.”

  “She doesn't seem like the type to take 'it's not you, it's me' very well,” Lauren said. “Matter of fact, there's a rumor that the Baron said something like that just before she stabbed him.”

  Mason gave her a wry grin, “You do have a point there.” His face went sober. “Honestly, I was more focused on trying to earn her trust to find out her end game than I was concerned with what I'd have to do for her on a more... physical level.”

  “Could you, if you had to?” Lauren asked. “Get physical, I mean?” For some reason, the question seemed very important to ask.

  Mason looked away, “I suppose. I've done worse. But I really wouldn't want to do that.”

  “Good,” Lauren said. “Good... because I don't like the effect she seems to have on you.” She certainly wasn't pleased because of any personal interest. It was just that she didn't want Mason to revert back to the man he'd been.

  Mason's blue eyes met hers and she licked her lips, suddenly nervous. On impulse she leaned forward, caught his head in her hands and kissed him full on the lips. A shock went through her as her lips met his. It was like the shock she felt from when he had kissed her in the shuttle back at Port Klast, only a thousand times better for the fact that it was her decision.

  She pulled back and her brown eyes met Mason's confused blue eyes. “Well, I'm glad we settled that,” Lauren said with a wicked smile. Her hands dropped to his shoulders and then the collar of his black shirt. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she leaned in again. This time the kiss was sharp, passionate, and full of hunger. Her hands tugged and she heard the buttons snap off as she ripped his shirt open.

  Mason grunted in surprise and denial. Even so, his hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in tight. As she broke the kiss for a moment of air, he met her eyes. “This is a bad idea,” Mason said. Even so, his arms only seemed to hold her tighter, as if he were afraid she would slip away.

  “I think it's the best idea we've had since we left Faraday,” Lauren responded as she ran her hands down his chest. Her fingers found the top of his belt and she smiled as she unhooked his belt buckle. “Let me prove it.”

  ***

  Tannis Mercenary Transport Mule

  Shadow Space

  November 8, 2403

  Garret grunted as he stared at his hand. He was seriously coming to regret inviting some of the new crew to his poker night. I should have played spades, he thought, but Heller likes throwing games just to get a reaction and no one else in the squadron can keep up with me. “I call,” he said, putting as much confidence as he could into his voice, “and raise you.” He dropped two bags of his precious coffee in the pot. They didn't normally play for cash, not aboard ship. Instead, they played for the little luxuries that made life a bit more bearable. Since they were on day four of their twelve day trip to Wenceslaus, they had some time to kill and the loss of those little luxuries was enough incentive to play for keeps. The tiny, cramped freighter that acted as their carrier wasn't much more than bare metal cargo bays and engines, with a large shadow space drive so that their Hammers stayed inside its drive field.

  Heller didn't even bother to pull her ear-buds out, “Fold.” The diminutive blonde woman threw her cards down with no hesitation.

  Jude looked between Garret and Abigail Gordon. The short, black man shook his head. He peered at Garret warily and when he spoke, his thick accent was heavy with suspicion, “You can't
be that confident.”

  “Too rich for you, Derstele?” Abigail asked.

  Jude frowned and slowly put his cards down and slid them over to where Clint had the discard pile. The stocky man nodded slowly, “To rich for my blood.”

  Jason pitched his cards without a word. Clint, who'd dealt the hand, scowled at his cards, and then back and forth between Abigail and Garret. The older man squinted at Abigail uncertainly, “Call.” He pushed a box of cigars into the pot, next to the two bags of coffee and the pile of gourmet chocolates. Garret cocked an eyebrow at Abigail as the bet went back to her.

  Caela had already folded and just shook her head, “I can't get a hand to save my life.”

  Abigail smiled confidently, “I call.” She looked over at Clint, who dealt the final cards. She didn't even look at her last card, “All in.” She pushed her current winnings, some scented soap bars, two vouchers for a massage spa on Halcyon, and some hand-rolled cigarillos from New Paris.

  Garret winced. He could cover that with his coffee stash... but only just. If he lost, he'd be drastically low on the precious brew until his next shipment would arrive. Still, he couldn't let the others think the young ensign had bluffed him. He would never live that down. The smirk on Heller suggests that she'll give me enough crap as it is, he thought darkly. “I call.” He pushed four of his five bags of coffee into the pot.

  Clint fingered his cards and finally shook his head. “I'm out,” he said. “Show your hands.”

  Abigail whooped and flipped her cards, “Four Jacks, you got nothing, right?” Garret blanched and pitched his pair of aces. “I knew it!” Abigail crowed, “I'm the winner!” She drew her winnings to her with a giggle, “Sorry, Captain, but you're just as easy to read as I remember.” She held up the coffee bags, “And I don't even drink this stuff.”

  Garret shook his head. He remembered, vaguely, playing cards with Jessica, her father, and Abigail over a decade previously, but he hadn't remembered her being so lucky. Then again, he'd been more focused on Jessica at the time. As I remember it, he thought, I kept throwing hands to let her kid sister win so Jessica would like me more.