Flight of the Blackbird (The Jessica Keller Chronicles Book 5)

by Blaze Ward

  It was a cultural response that had no equivalent in Aquitaine, except perhaps to establish the kind of relationship Jessica had as a disciple of Nils Kasum.

  But more. So much more. Perhaps more than the man owed the Red Admiral for the right to stand on his deck.

  She had chosen correctly, coming here. That much was obvious in his eyes.

  “Come,” Captain Saar said, gesturing to the women. “Let us retire to a conference room and determine our next step.”

  “Marcelle, Willow, would you join us, please?” Casey called back over her shoulder before Jessica could.

  Jessica had turned to speak, and saw Casey’s harsh face show a flicker of a grin. Just a ghost.

  Enough.

  A siren suddenly filled the landing bay. Lights went red at the same time.

  “Red Alert,” a man’s voice intoned severely. “All hands to your stations. I repeat, all hands to your stations.”

  Captain Saar gestured for them to join him, and then took off at a fast jog for the nearest hatch.

  Outside the Blackbird, something had gone desperately wrong.

  CHAPTER XLIV

  DAY: 313 OF THE COMMON ERA YEAR: 13,445 VESSEL - RS:32G8Y42 – “DANCER IN DARKNESS.” FRIBOURG SYSTEM: “ST. LEGIER”. STATUS: DEPLOYMENT MODE

  Ro Kenzo Atep Vrin checked his harness carefully, and then confirmed that two sealed bottles of chilled black tea were close at hand, also locked in place.

  He glanced once around the command deck, from farthest right to farthest left, pausing on each crew member visible. Each nodded their own readiness.

  Communications had been monitoring traffic in the system for long enough to determine that the mission was still moving forward as designed. There were foxes in the hen house, on the world deeper into the planetary system.

  Shortly, a hungry shark would join them.

  Satisfied, Vrin turned to the three Advocates facing him across the small command altar.

  “Crew Advocate,” Vrin questioned. “Are you prepared?”

  “We are, Director,” Ko Serek Evet Khan replied calmly.

  “Entity Advocate,” Vrin continued. “Has he meditated on his cause?”

  “He is at peace, Director,” Wa Veren Kulo Marz nodded back at him.

  “War Advocate,” Vrin ordered. “Prepare for battle.”

  “Dancer In Darkness,” Ro Malar Arga Rues commanded aloud. “Detach the Energiya Module.”

  Around him, Vrin felt the gravity system power to nothing suddenly. Down disappeared, leaving only the horizon of the command deck itself to provide direction.

  Vibrations in the hull felt like a minor earthquake for several seconds, as the three-thumbed grip of the transport system let go and retracted, separating Dancer In Darkness into his two constituent parts: Buran and Energiya.

  Like a blade, the forward section, the fighting module portion of the ship, slid out of his scabbard, long and deadly, leaving behind the bulky base section with the Jump Drives and their terrible engines.

  Energiya would wait here for the combat module to return from its mission, quietly hiding in the darkness at the edge of the Imperial system.

  Stripped down like this, Dancer In Darkness became the avatar of war. Without the bulk and mass of the Jump Drives and long-range engines, he was compact and deadly, particularly compared to Imperial warships equivalent in size. Not a Carcharias or Megalodon, the great monsters of deep space, but more than enough for the mission at hand, the greatest raid ever undertaken by the Lord of Winter.

  Vrin allowed himself the luxury of a quick grin.

  Tomorrow, Fribourg would truly desire peace. But first, they must be made to appreciate the value of such a thing.

  “Entity Advocate,” Vrin commanded. “Have we detached?”

  Rather than answer immediately, the woman looked down at her screen for a moment.

  “We have, Director,” she finally replied, taking the moment to be certain.

  “War Advocate, prepare the Capriole Drive,” Vrin continued. “Coordinates have been identified and calculated. The Mauler is charged. The First Stage Exciters are ready. State your readiness.”

  Like his Entity Advocate, the War Advocate took a moment to check his panels and confirm that everything was in readiness before speaking.

  “Combat preparedness is confirmed,” the man replied with a steely gaze.

  “Make your jump,” Vrin commanded.

  Dancer In Darkness flickered out of the physical universe on a ballistic path.

  The Fribourg Empire used a different technology to sail between the stars. It was more accurate over vast distances, but they did not believe in using intelligent systems to control those calculations, relying on human feel for such things. Thus, they could only land a significant distance from any planet, or risk random scattering.

  The Entity could do the same calculations as a human, but fifty thousand times faster. Thus, he could land well inside the zone a human-piloted vessel would risk, and do it accurately. And he could use the short-range blink drive, the Capriole, to leap across the planetary orbit. It was far easier to maintain a specific altitude when doing so, like electrons falling into a series of valance shells.

  Below, the Imperials would have their eyes cast down, watching the planet below them and hoping for a sign from their new masters.

  None would be watching the heavens for an avenging archangel to descend.

  A tone sounded. Three seconds warning.

  Emergence.

  It was a fine construct, this Grand Fleet Orbital Headquarters that the Imperials had lofted into the skies above their capital. But it was a child’s balloon, mostly empty space contained within a metal ovoid.

  Large energy cannon mounts, too big for the First Stage Exciters to absorb easily, protected points of an imaginary cube around the base.

  Or would have, if they had been unlocked and charged. After all, this deep in the gravity well of the planet, what vessel would be able to get close enough to threaten them without plenty of warning?

  What vessel, indeed?

  Dancer In Darkness had plotted his first leap with surgical accuracy, passing above and along the longer axis of the station at a high-enough speed to be a difficult target, but perfectly aligned for the Mauler.

  Sensors showed the presence of energy shields around the station. Not at a combat setting, but enough to protect it from the vagaries of everyday orbital rubble.

  Not that even the combat shields would make much of a difference to the Mag-Shear, the Mauler.

  “Engage,” Vrin commanded his crew.

  From this point, his task was to provide oversight, rather than command. To plot strategic maneuvers. In a fleet action, to control the gears like fingers in a raking and grasping claw.

  The War Advocate and the Entity would fight the battle at a tactical level. They did that well.

  “Activate the Mauler,” the War Advocate said calmly.

  Without gravity plates active, every erg of generated power could be routed through the Mag-Shear. Even the lights flickered heavily for several seconds as a beam of ravening fire emerged from the three points on the Roughshark’s snout, came to a focus, and engulfed the top of the station like molten frosting poured on a cupcake.

  Shields stopped perhaps thirteen percent of the incoming energy. Combat shielding might have deflected as much as ten percent more.

  The rest poured into a tremendous magnetic field that induced a transverse shear powerful enough to shatter entire sections of the station. Even humans caught in the beam could be devastated, the iron in their blood suddenly a weapon against them.

  The lights came back to full power.

  Vrin only imagined he could smell ozone, considering the beam that had just hammered the station. Everything was still clean and spring-fresh on his command deck.

  Nobody would be prepared to shoot back for longer than it would take for them to escape.

  “Begin Firing Sequence One,” the War Advocate continue
d in his smooth growl.

  The cost for all the stealth and long-range sailing properties of the Roughshark was mostly in offensive weaponry. The Makos also relied on the Mauler, but carried more Pulse Beams: medium-range energy weapons designed to kill small escorts at the sorts of engagement ranges made possible by the Capriole Drive.

  Dancer In Darkness had the normal compliment of Flicker Beams, rapid-firing and point-blank range, but he lacked the longer-range weaponry of his cousins.

  At this range, Vrin could hit the badly-staggered orbital fortress with a thrown rock if he wanted.

  Still, three Pulse Beams and six Flicker beams lashed out, a staccato symphony. Normally, the station would shed them like water on a duck’s back, but the Mag-Shear had also shattered a number of shield emplacements, or power conduits, so there were holes in the fortress’s defenses.

  Beams pierced them like ice picks.

  Vrin watched the charge levels on the various battery arrays race towards zero. The Mauler took some time to recharge, as did the Capriole. Normally, that could be greatly assisted by letting the First Stage Exciters act as power accumulators, absorbing incoming fire and routing it into the batteries, rather than shrugging it off like Imperial warships did.

  Today, at least right at this moment, nobody was firing back. The shock was too new on their part.

  That would not last.

  “War Advocate, make the first bombing run,” Vrin commanded.

  He smiled to himself a cold, thin smile. The Makos and the Threshers had more offensive firepower, but they did not carry missile racks. The Lord of Winter had chosen to adopt that singular Imperial technology. Dancer In Darkness was the first to use them in battle.

  Vrin watched the projection of the planetary system turn gray as Dancer In Darkness leapt across JumpSpace again, dropping down low, almost to the edge of the atmosphere. Four seconds, and they emerged again, this time with a jar as the upper reaches of the stratosphere caused a thickening of space around them.

  It was almost like hydroplaning in a land vehicle that had hit a patch of sudden, black ice.

  The hull rang around him suddenly. Three missiles ejected manually from mechanical catapults, beginning their long, lazy fall.

  And then their gyroscopes engaged, pointing them down like needles into flesh, and engines ignited.

  The scramjet bombs did not have much warhead. Only a small core of radioactive metals that would generate a quick triple-thermonuclear explosion at a relatively high altitude. The first electromagnetic pulse would generate soft damage over a widely dispersed area, while the actual destruction would be fairly limited in scope.

  The Lord of Winter had made careful calculations about doing a demonstration with small casualties, versus attempting to wipe out one of the major cities on this planet. Plus, even the medium-sized cities would be protected by automated systems that would bring defensive shields online fast enough to protect them from the death about to rain from the skies.

  One of the first targets today was simply an Imperial hunting lodge on the far side of the planet from the capital, the sort of place that should be largely empty on this date, with the impending celebrations half a world away. Only caretakers would be killed in the making of this omelet, rather than personages whose death would demand retribution.

  Bounce again.

  Dancer In Darkness was suddenly over the north pole axis of the planet. Three more scramjet bombs launched, this time intended to trigger a series of tsunami on every shore by detonating simultaneously at sea level. Again, far enough from any inhabited shore that the humans on the planet should have time to get to high ground. Only a single weather station on an isolated island, too close to explosion number two, would have no time to evacuate before destruction.

  Controlled devastation.

  A lesson from the Lord of Winter as to What Could Have Been.

  Tomorrow, negotiations with the new lord of Fribourg to ensure it never had to happen again.

  Dancer In Darkness leapt.

  CHAPTER XLV

  DATE OF THE REPUBLIC NOVEMBER 8, 398 PRINCESS CHARLOTTE PARK, WERDER, ST. LEGIER

  The fog was mostly gone, out on the streets, but it clung tenaciously in the burrs and hollows of the park, cool ground heating slower than the asphalt of the surrounding roadways.

  Vo felt more at home amidst the greenery, which surprised him, considering he had never even gone outside a city, out into the raw wilderness, until ground infantry training when he had joined the Navy at eighteen.

  The time on Thuringwell, riding a horse and hiding in the bush, had obviously rubbed off. Even if Moirrey still called him City-boy from time to time.

  Corporal Danville up front found a large bush and squatted down behind it silently. They were in a small glade, invisible from outside the park, the last wispy fog still poking fingers of chill into collars.

  The four of them took a moment and relaxed, to recover a bit after nearly walking right into an armoured troop transport and a platoon of troops, two blocks away.

  All that time with Fourth Saxon and LVIII Heavy had truly taught Vo the bushcraft he needed to keep them alive. Danville was good, but another city boy. Still, nobody had seen them.

  Vo pulled his comm from a pocket and selected Moirrey’s channel.

  “We’re here,” he said simply, waiting.

  “Yup,” she chirped back instantly. “Watched you. Yers about thirty meters away, fifteen degrees right o’the line you’d been on.”

  She had been watching them arrive? Knew where they were right now?

  Suddenly, the stories that the men and women of the Construction Ala had shared about the dangerous, little girl from engineering made more sense.

  “Okay,” Vo said. “What now?”

  “Stand up and turn a bits to yer right,” Moirrey said.

  With nothing better to do, Vo did.

  Sure enough, Moirrey leaned out from behind a tree and silently waved at him to come to her.

  Vo tapped Danville on the shoulder, nodded to Street and Horst, and set out.

  For a city boy, he made far less noise than the soldiers behind him, even a silent killer like Corporal Danville. Good to know.

  Moirrey was inside a stand of trees that was almost a room in the middle of this forest when he got close enough. Certainly, if they were quiet, someone could walk within meters and not see them.

  Vo decided that it probably wasn’t an accident on Moirrey’s part.

  Maybe Moirrey really could give someone like Danville a run for his money.

  “What’s the mission, Vo?” she asked as they got in and settled.

  “Imperial Security arrested the Emperor and the family,” he replied, watching her bristle. “Apparently, they got the Red Admiral, too, but the Fleet Centurion wants us to rescue Karl first.”

  “Fitting,” Moirrey announced. “Seein’s we’s important Imperial folks now, an’all.”

  Vo grinned at her.

  Moirrey zu Kermode. Lady Moirrey.

  Vo zu Arlo. Lord Vo.

  Cost of doing business, he supposed. If someone had done this to the President, or the First Lord of the Fleet, he’d be doing the same thing right now.

  Funny how doing the right thing always seemed to put him in the position to do more of it.

  One of these days, he was going to have to go home, his old block on Anameleck Prime, and pay a visit on that old judge, the man who had offered to make him a marine instead of a felon, once upon a time. Let him know how it had all turned out, fifteen years later.

  He just had to survive this.

  “Danville, Horst, Street,” Vo ticked off their names. “I am aware that you arrived on this planet unarmed, a situation you rectified in good order. Might you have also given thought as to a means of accessing the Imperial Palace grounds undetected? Perhaps have even implemented such plans?”

  Vo was rewarded by three sheepish faces suddenly blushing, eyes down.

  Yup, thought so.

  �
��What’ve you got?” Vo turned to Horst, the most likely man of the three to give him a complete answer.

  “Security’s good around the place, sir,” Edgar replied after a moment. “But there’s a game park around behind that, surrounded by a fairly significant green belt.”

  “Okay,” Vo acknowledged.

  He really hadn’t paid that close of attention to the terrain when they arrived, focusing mostly on the city grid itself and memorizing streets.

  The Fleet Centurion probably would have known all this. Lesson learned.

  “So the greenbelt is marked,” Edgar continued. “And it’s something of a large park that snakes around. Much of it follows a small river, really not much more than a creek in many places, but a psychological barrier to the locals. We cross that, and we’re inside. From there, a wall runs around most of the palace grounds proper. Don’t figure the park rangers came to work today, so we should be able to get to the wall. Once inside, dunno how good security will be. Doubt Imperial Security knows the grounds as well as the house unit, but probably doesn’t trust those folks, so they’re doing it themselves, at least for now.”

  “Risk?” Vo asked.

  “I’d bet they’re counting on surprise to hold the field for them today, Colonel,” Sgt. Street spoke up suddenly. “Hit hard and fast, and chance nobody being able to do what we’re up to.”

  “Why not?” Vo fired back.

  “They’d be focused on the palace troops, sir,” the man grinned. “Plus city gendarmes, Shore Patrol, and nearby military units. Even if they’re looking for us, they ought to expect we’d be defensive, not offensive. Hiding to escape notice, rather than attacking the Imperial palace ourselves.”

  “He’s right, sir,” Danville murmured. “Imperial Security is a passive force. Sit back and watch. They would never immediately attack like this out of the blue. Nor expect it. The faster we move, the better. Less time for them to lock everything down on us.”

  Vo let his tactical and strategic training take over. He knew every alley and sidewalk in the area, but not the best way to the park. But he didn’t need to. He had the 189th Division with him. Mountain infantry specialists.