“You’ll take him up on the offer, won’t you?”
“I think I have to,” Kurt answered with a slight nod. “We don’t know what will happen when we attempt to free Earth. With what’s already occurred on the planet, it may be years before they’re completely back on their feet. It’s very likely the responsibility for defending both Earth and Newton will fall on us.”
“Can we order another defense grid for Earth?” asked Andrew, knowing that would help alleviate part of the problem.
“It’s a possibility,” Kurt answered. He had discussed it briefly with Fleet Admiral Tomalson several months back.
“Another Profiteer cargo ship should be leaving Earth shortly,” Andrew continued. “Captain Watkins sent word on the Newton Princess that he thought another one would be leaving in a few days.”
“I’m sending the Trinity and the Carlsbad both this time,” Kurt said. “As well as the light cruisers Alton and Birmingham. We’ve installed a hyperspace sensor on the Trinity, so she should be able to trace the convoy.”
“If the convoy leaves,” said Andrew, raising his eyebrow. “If High Profiteer Creed receives word that the other convoy didn’t reach Kubitz, he may decide to hold this one until he learns what happened.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Kurt said. “We’ve already placed crews on all four of the new battleships and the ten battlecruisers.”
“Partial crews,” corrected Andrew with some concern. “We still need a number of crewmembers to fill out the ship rosters.”
“How long did Colonel Hayworth say it would take to modify our last six missile tubes for the hypermissiles?” Kurt wanted all twelve tubes on the Star Cross to be capable of firing the new missile. He had been hesitant until now to put the ship inside the repair bay to have it done.
“Two days,” responded Andrew. “They’ll also need to modify two missile storage pods and set up an automatic reloading system for all twelve tubes.”
“Schedule it,” Kurt ordered. “Inform the new crews they have three days to become familiar with their ships, and then we’ll do some shakedown cruises. In two weeks I want them ready to go to Earth.”
“Two weeks!” said Andrew, his eyes widening in alarm “I’m not sure they’ll be ready by then. There are some pretty raw recruits on those vessels.”
“If we have to, shift some crews from the destroyers to the new ships. The destroyers won’t be of much use in a battle and will serve better if they stay here at Newton.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Andrew, nodding his head in agreement. “We have seven destroyers, counting the two with the Vindication. That would fill all the important positions with trained crewmembers, including most of the officer positions. If we shift a few other people around, we should end up with decent command crews for all fourteen of the new ships.”
“I’ll explain to Captain Anniston on the Trinity that she’s to send the destroyers Sultan and Deimos back when they reach the Vindication,” Kurt said. “We’re still not certain how High Profiteer Creed will react when he learns that his convoy never reached Kubitz.”
“He’ll go ballistic,” predicted Andrew, folding his arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t want to be around him when he does find out.”
“Let’s just hope he sends ships searching for the missing convoy and doesn’t take out his anger on Earth.”
“I guess we’ll know shortly,” Andrew replied and then continued. “I think he’ll go hunting for the convoy. That cargo ship was packed full of gold and gemstones. He won’t want to lose it. Not to mention all the potential slaves he’s taken from Earth to sell.” Several passenger liners under escort had already returned to Newton from Kubitz with humans that Lieutenant Tenner had freed.
Kurt shifted his attention to the viewscreen and the defense platform. He knew he should probably send a message to President Mayfield, briefing him on the readiness of the new defense grid over Newton. He would also indicate to the president that he was preparing to initiate offensive operations against the Profiteers.
-
Captain Nathan Aldrich was once more on the tarmac, only this time in Western Oklahoma at an abandoned military airbase, dating from the Cold War between the then United States and the former Soviet Union. It still boasted a long airstrip used occasionally for training purposes. He saw a tumbleweed blow across the wide runway, but, other than that, there was no movement out here.
“I wonder why they wanted to land in the middle of nowhere?” asked Private Malone, peering at the high clouds drifting over the area.
“The cities are becoming too dangerous for them,” Nathan responded. He heard a loud noise in the sky, and, looking up, he saw the shuttle descending. A second one was with it and took a higher orbit above the former airbase.
“We’re late with this payment,” Corporal Lasher commented, as the shuttle landed fifty meters from the four large armored trucks.
“We got them to agree to the delay, claiming it was taking us longer than expected to round up a sufficient quantity of gemstones,” explained Nathan. “It was hoped, by making it seem that we were having a difficult time meeting this tribute, they wouldn’t increase it again.”
When the shuttle hatch opened and the ramp touched the tarmac, ten heavily armed Profiteers came forward with another group behind them pulling a number of antigravity sleds.
“It’s hot today,” complained Corporal Lasher, hoping the Profiteers hated the heat as much as he did, especially when wearing that gray body armor. The temperature hovered in the low one hundreds with a strong gusty wind blowing from the south.
“You have the tribute?” demanded the lead Profiteer.
Nathan thought this was the same one he had spoken to the last several times. “Yes, it’s all here.”
The Profiteer motioned to the others with him, and the doors to the four trucks were opened, and they rapidly began transferring the bars of gold and the gemstones to the antigravity sleds.
“You were late with this month’s tribute,” the Profiteer stated with a scowl on his face.
“It was a large amount of gold and gemstones,” Nathan replied evenly. “It takes time to gather up such wealth.”
“Next month the amount is doubled,” the Profiteer said in a cold and harsh voice. “No delay will be accepted or you will lose cities. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” responded Nathan, his anger rising. He wanted nothing more than to pull his pistol from its holster and put a 45-caliber bullet between the Profiteer’s large pale eyes.
“I see your anger at our demand,” snarled the Profiteer, gazing directly into Nathan’s eyes. “If any harm comes to me or any other Profiteer, the orbiting shuttle will nuke this landing site!”
“No harm will come to you,” promised Nathan, drawing in a deep breath and reining in his anger.
The Profiteer turned and went to the others, who were loading the gold and gemstones; they finished shortly and returned to the shuttle, pulling the antigravity sleds behind them. A few moments later the shuttle took off and headed toward space.
“Double,” muttered Corporal Lasher, his face turning grim. “Can we do that?”
“I don’t know,” replied Nathan, as he looked around the desolate airfield. “Let’s get back, so we can report.” Nathan had a feeling that everything was coming to a head. The Profiteers were increasing their demands to take the last of Earth’s wealth. Nathan had a suspicion the Profiteers might have just received their last tribute.
-
A few hours later High Profiteer Creed glared at Third Profiteer Bixt in shock. Two detainee ships had just dropped from hyperspace into Earth orbit and sent a message that the last convoy fleet dispatched to Kubitz had never arrived.
“Impossible!” roared High Profiteer Creed, shoving Second Profiteer Lantz to the side, as he made his way to the communications station. “What do they mean, the convoy never made it to Kubitz?”
“First Profiteer Hiltol is confirming the message,” Bixt
replied, as he listened anxiously to his comm. “The convoy was fourteen days late when he left Kubitz with his two ships.”
“Could another group of Profiteers have captured it?” asked Lantz.
“Someone has interfered with it,” muttered Creed, knowing his profits had just taken a huge hit. “I’ll contact Clan Leader Jarls and have him send three of his battleships to Kubitz on the same course the convoy was supposed to take. Perhaps they can find out what happened.”
“Could it have been the humans?” asked Lantz.
Creed stood still for a moment, deep in thought. “I doubt it,” he said finally. “They’re too concerned about defending their colony world.”
“Could they have hired some mercenaries to hit the convoy?”
Creed gazed at Lantz in surprise, and then anger spread across his face. “That would make sense,” he said. “They don’t have the forces or the technology to track the convoy and then attack it. They could have hired someone to do it for them. Just a split of the gold and gemstones on that cargo ship would make such an agreement worthwhile.”
“What should we do?”
“I still think we should send the Dacroni battleships to search, but it would also be a good idea to have our people on Kubitz ask around, see if the humans have hired anyone to hit us. It would have to be a good-size contract, and word of it may have leaked. I’ll tell them to see if anyone is spending large sums of credits at the pleasure houses. If mercenaries hit us, stealing our gold, someone will be bragging about it.”
“How do we go about replacing our losses?”
Creed’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted his gaze to a viewscreen, which showed the blue-white globe of Earth. His accounts on Kubitz were already swollen with the profits he had made from this world. Perhaps it was time to leave, before his fortunes turned. This missing convoy might be an indication of that. “Tomorrow we’ll send messages to all Earth’s countries. Additional tribute will be levied on each of them. And it will be due in two weeks, or they can face the consequences.”
“Some will attempt to resist,” pointed out Lantz.
“Then they will die,” Creed answered coldly. “We’ll hold the current convoy until we ourselves can escort it safely to Kubitz.”
-
President Mayfield stared bleakly at Fleet Admiral Tomalson, General Braid, and Raul Gutierrez, who were all gathered in his office. “Two weeks to raise double what we did this past month?”
“We have it,” commented Raul. “But a lot of others don’t. The Chinese Conglomerate has indicated they will not pay. The same for the Russian Collective.”
“What about the European Union? What will they do?” asked Mayfield. He was greatly concerned that this latest demand from the Profiteers would bring about the war he had been hoping to avoid.
“Unknown,” Raul answered, as he glanced down at several messages he had recently received from various world governments. “They have indicated they will consider following our lead.”
“The Profiteers have made demands of every country,” commented General Braid with a scowl. “Hell, some of those countries have no gold!”
“This is it then,” said Fleet Admiral Tomalson with a deep sigh. “They have four big detainee ships currently in orbit and several cargo ships. One is full or nearly full, and the other is for what they are expecting to gain from this next tribute.”
Mayfield let out a deep breath. “Fleet Admiral Vickers indicated the defense grid around Newton is complete.” Mayfield looked intently at Tomalson. “Is there anything Kurt can do with the ships he currently has?”
“Possibly,” Tomalson said with a deep frown. “If Newton is secure from attack, he could lead the rest of his fleet against the Profiteers. The problem remains with the Dacroni battleships. Kurt’s battlecruiser and carriers wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“If he could only take out a few of them, they might withdraw,” suggested Raul. “We know the aliens are hesitant to take losses, as it affects their profit margin.”
General Braid shook his head in disgust. “A culture that fights wars based on profit … it’s just beyond my understanding.”
“How many do you think he would have to down in order to get the Profiteers to pull out?” asked Mayfield, looking intently at Fleet Admiral Tomalson. Perhaps a limited battle was all that was needed.
“At least one Profiteer battlecruiser, a couple of their escorts, and maybe one or two of the Dacroni battleships,” answered the fleet admiral.
“Is there any way he can do that?” asked Mayfield.
“No,” Tomalson replied, shaking his head. “I’m afraid any attack against the Profiteer fleet could also result in them nuking Earth. Even without an uprising, once they get all our gold and gems, I just don’t see them leaving our home planet intact. We could rise up one day and retaliate.”
“The admiral’s right,” General Braid said gravely. “They’ll nuke us when they leave. They don’t dare leave our technology base intact, in case we come hunting for them some day. They’ll blast us back to the Stone Age.”
“If their fleet is under attack by Fleet Admiral Vickers, perhaps they couldn’t get off enough nukes to permanently damage the planet,” suggested Raul, seeking a solution to the problem. “We do have some assets to defend ourselves with.”
“I would be willing to take that risk, if we could get rid of them once and for all,” replied Mayfield grimly. “We can’t go on much longer like this.” He looked over at General Braid. “Can we stop their nukes?”
“They won’t take us completely by surprise this time,” said General Braid. “We do have a large number of interceptor missiles and jet fighters to knock down the missiles before they detonate. However, I fear that, no matter what we do, a few will get through our defenses.”
President Mayfield looked over at Tomalson with a desperate look on his face. He greatly feared he might be overseeing the end of the world as he knew it.
“I’ll send Fleet Admiral Vickers a message on one of the stealth shuttles, outlining High Profiteer Creed’s latest demands,” Tomalson said with a heavy sigh. “I can’t promise anything.”
“Do the best you can,” Mayfield replied.
He leaned back in his chair and took a deep steadying breath. He realized there was a good chance that he might be the last president of the North American Union. Even if they met the Profiteers’ latest demands, he fully expected them to nonetheless strip the planet and then nuke it as they left. General Braid would do his best to defend the North American Union, but Mayfield feared that, in this instance, the general’s best would not be enough.
-
Several days later Kurt was on Newton Station, meeting with Governor Spalding and several others who had flown up to inspect the newly finished defense grid and to observe the work being done by Lomatz’s engineers to the shipyard.
“I’m impressed,” Governor Spalding said, as they stood in the Command Center, where numerous viewscreens showed activity around the station. Small work vehicles were everywhere, and defensive energy turrets were being installed at strategic locations on the outer hull. Larger weapons, which he was told were ion cannons and energy projectors, were also being installed to give the station a powerful offensive punch.
“It was costly,” Kurt said with a heavy sigh. He was almost afraid to think of the amount of gold he had spent in the last several months.
“But worth it,” said Colonel Hayworth, coming to stand next to Kurt. “The engineers from Kubitz are doing the work in days that would have taken us weeks.”
Looking at one of the viewscreens, Spalding saw one of the huge Kubitz cargo ships. One of its cavernous bays was open, and small shuttles flew back and forth, carrying equipment.
“I wonder if we can trust them,” General Mclusky said. “Yet I’ve inspected the PDCs they’ve put on Newton, and they’re perfectly designed. They’re everything we could hope for to defend the planet.”
“Same with the defense grid,” com
mented Colonel Hayworth. “Everything functions just as they said it would, and they’ve taken the time to show us how everything works.”
“It’s the Controller system,” explained Kurt, looking at the others. “If it’s in the contract, they’ll carry it out to the letter. We even have a Controller on board one of the cargo ships that’s ensuring Lomatz stays true to his word. Once they’re done, the Controller will inspect the work and then check with us to ensure it has been completed to our satisfaction. If it is, we’ll sign off on it, and the cargo fleet and Lomatz will return to Kubitz.”
“I saw some of the smaller weapons that Lomatz brought,” commented General Mclusky, looking at Kurt. “They have energy rifles and even energy cannons that can be mounted on vehicles. For handguns they have a stun weapon that has a range of nearly forty meters.”
“Yes,” Kurt said. “We purchased a few of those to try out. I informed Lomatz that, if we’re satisfied with their performance, we might come to Kubitz later with a cargo ship to purchase more.”
“What about Earth?” asked Governor Spalding, his eyes narrowing sharply. “I understand you received a new message from Fleet Admiral Tomalson.”
“Yes,” Kurt answered with a grim look on his face. “The situation has taken a drastic turn for the worse. High Profiteer Creed has made outrageous tribute demands to every country on the planet. The escalated tribute is due in less than two weeks.”
“Can they pay it?” asked Spalding. “With much of Earth’s wealth here.”
“Some countries can, but most won’t be able to,” Kurt answered, his eyes taking on a haunted look. “Fleet Admiral Tomalson expects them to collect what they can, nuke Earth, and then leave.”
“Then our plan to take the convoy to force them to take some pressure off Earth failed?” said Colonel Hayworth dejectedly.
The Star Cross Page 31
