by Kal Spriggs
“Make preparations then, Major.” Lucius closed the connection and began his own preparations.
***
The cruisers didn’t have the speed to escape, so the only real threat came from the vessels’ guns, which could engage and destroy the shuttles as they transferred Marines aboard the ships. The light cruisers’ only offensive weapons were six light lasers, designed more for missile interception than anything else. They could, unfortunately, engage and destroy a shuttle.
Lieutenant Naevius led his squadrons in close, to snipe at the turrets on one ship after the other.
Midway through disabling the vessels weapons, one of the other two ships lost all power and began to drift. It looked as if both power plants went offline at the same time, which suggested that a mutiny was already underway. Major Proscia agreed and rerouted the shuttles already dispatched to another vessel to that one. Lives might be saved in a quick resolution to that fight.
Lucius found the boarding operations much more strenuous to command than ship-to-ship engagements. He could hear all of the commands and reports, but he wasn’t present. He couldn’t see what his Marines saw. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t change the outcome, no matter what he did.
He was glad for Major Proscia’s presence. The man possessed an almost frightening intensity. William Proscia had fought on many battlefields and it seemed that he could see exactly what his men saw as he directed their operations. He managed to speak calmly even as he directed the mutinous crews that rallied with the Marine boarding parties against the Chxor.
“Sir,” Proscia spoke, midway into the operation. One vessel was entirely secured, the Chxor aboard had surrendered when faced with inevitable defeat.
“Yes, Major?” Lucius asked, his attention split between the battles aboard the enemy vessels and the two enemy dreadnoughts and their escorts.
“I don’t think we can capture vessel two. Most of the crew is from Saragossa.” William’s said, his voice flat and unemotional.
Lucius winced. The Saragossa system lay not far from Nova Roma. They had had a dominant economy and heavy factories, which had made them a threat, especially since their colony’s merchant cartels were in competition with those of Nova Roma. The short and brutal war that resulted culminated with the destruction of most of the system’s infrastructure. Much of the system’s population died from starvation before the Chxor arrived to take charge. “Offer to remove anyone who wants to leave, then evacuate your people. We’ll destroy it.” Lucius answered. He had nothing against the Saragossans, but if they fought on the side of the Chxor, they were the enemy.
The operation continued.
Lucius watched the Chxor forces on approach to Faraday. As expected, the planet offered no resistance. The Chxor took no chances, for they didn’t trust humans. Besides that, Lucius added mentally, the Chxor commander had to be peeved about losing half his forces.
As the Chxor fleet assumed the high orbital position, it began to systematically target all other craft in orbit. Some ships tried to flee, then, but it was too late. Only ships on the far side of the planet had any realistic chance to elude that much firepower. One or two Faraday naval vessels attempted to return fire, but they survived only long enough to be engaged by the second salvo.
“Lieutenant Palmer, what is the status on the evacuation ships?”
“They’re dropping into shadow now, Captain. They’re headed for the rendezvous.”
Lucius nodded, sadly. Sixteen thousand people saved. Nineteen million more and an entire world taken by the Chxor. At least the politicians who surrendered would be amongst the first to feel the lash of their new overlords.
***
Squadron Commander Kleigh finished the annotation of his notes as his flagship finished annihilation of all orbital traffic as a security measure. The standard operating procedure when beginning a planetary occupation, it also gave his gunners more needed practice. He sighed as he reviewed the notes on the engagement.
Obviously, these Humans behaved illogically again.
He acted impeccably, he approached the battle in the correct mentality, which left him blameless for the results, he knew. Who would have thought that the humans would sacrifice a world as a lure to destroy two dreadnoughts? Chxor high command would find their actions as puzzling as himself.
He looked up as one of the communications technicians attracted his attention. “High Commander, the planetary authorities have requested audience with you.” Kleigh nodded and waited for the technician to rout the transmission to his command chair.
“What is the meaning of this!” an obese human demanded. “We surrendered, you have no reason to fire on us!”
“Your orbital traffic was a potential threat to my vessels. It was dealt with.” Kleigh answered, logically. “You will no longer question my actions. All military personnel on your world will assemble for their surrender and a facility will be prepared for their internment. All aircraft will be grounded and all ground transportation will be suspended. Any acts of aggression against my vessels or troops will be met with instant retaliation. Is that understood?”
The man stared at him in horror for a long moment. It was obvious now that he was too emotional, and would have to be replaced as soon as practical.
“In addition, you and your government will prepare to meet with our conditioning committee as to the new standards we expect of this world. Failure to meet our standards will result in retaliation for sedition.” Kleigh informed the man. Without a doubt, some on the planet would act, foolishly, in the hopes that some minor terrorist actions would convince the Chxor to leave.
The Chxor would leave the planet uninhabitable before they’d leave it to their enemies. It was illogical and unthinkable to provide a potential haven to any enemies of order and structure.
Kleigh waved to the technician to disconnect the transmission and returned his attention to his notes. Obviously non-Chxor required further conditioning before serving as crew. Squadron Commander Kleigh scheduled further demonstrations on such sources of sedition as humans. All must know their place in the Chxor Empire. Mutiny was a threat most Chxor ships were capable of defending against. Every cruiser had a complement of one hundred soldiers, chosen for their loyalty and dedication. Unfortunately, they were trained to subdue a planetary populous and not for defensive fighting aboard their own ships. Especially not when such mutinies were led by trained soldiers proficient in shipboard fighting. It was an unfortunate gap in Chxor tactical doctrine, Kleigh saw now.
He added a suggestion for such training to the training regimen. Most of their regimen consisted of engaging civilians who lacked training and required lessons in obedience to the Chxor. Few units saw battle against any military under any conditions, much less those as unfavorable as aboard ship, against a mutinous crew and enemy boarders.
The most logical preventative measure would be self-destruct measures for each captain to undertake. No Chxor commander would hesitate to destroy their own vessel rather than let it fall into enemy hands, he knew. He’d ordered the commanders of the cruisers to attempt the same. Unfortunately, mutinous crew made the process difficult.
Chxor ships needed a quick means of self-destruction, he decided and made additional note of it. It would be a simple modification. He would, by necessity, avoid it aboard his own ship. His survival as the Squadron Commander was essential.
Kleigh nodded as a second of the cruisers disappeared off his screen. One disappeared earlier, which suggested that the commander had been quicker thinking than the others. This one was from the vessel that had signaled that the crew fought the boarders rather than their own officers. It was good that this ship too wouldn’t fall to the enemy.
The other two, though, seemed to be under the control of the enemy. He made note that the two ships, along with the damaged one which had already mutinied. They would be treated as rogue and destroyed on sight.
Kleigh found it unfortunate that the enemy’s forces had grown. Possibly the cruisers
could function as screening units for the enemy. Possibly the differing accelerations would make that untenable. The enemy’s firepower remained essentially unchanged, though Kleigh found the addition of other enemy vessels unfortunate. Obviously the enemy had planned this situation, planned to sacrifice this world for the destruction of the two dreadnoughts. An illogical move, one more sign that this enemy, the War Shrike and its commander, must be destroyed.
After the proper assimilation of this world, Squadron Commander Kleigh would attend to that.
***
After six hours of fighting, the last of the Chxor loyalists finally gave up.
It cost the lives of twenty three Marines and over two hundred crew who mutinied against the Chxor. No one counted the numbers of Chxor who'd fought and died.
It freed something over seven hundred people, most of them humans. And it gave Lucius four additional ships. The slow and unarmed cruisers made an interesting addition to his force.
The mutineers aboard one ship had cut power to the entire ship. At a distance, it may have looked like the ship was destroyed as its power icon disappeared. If that was true, the Chxor might not know he possessed the vessel, something which could come in handy later on.
Lucius’ small fleet formed up now, for its jump to Shadow. As that thought triggered, he sighed.
“We failed again,” he said, softly.
“Baron, we kicked the crap out of them,” Lieutenant Beeson said.
Lucius snorted, “We’re still running, and I’m abandoning another world to the Chxor.” He felt the temptation, even now, to stay, to fight.
But that would have been foolish. He’d expended nearly all of his missiles. His supply freighter could have rearmed the fighters, but it would have taken most of the day to refill the Gebneyr’s external missile racks. During that time, they would be stationary, open to an attack
Without somehow repeating that devastating surprise strike, he had little chance of overwhelming the remaining dreadnoughts.
Besides that, the Chxor possessed ansibles, just as he himself did. To judge by previous actions, Chxor reinforcements would come all the sooner for a defeat here. It might take them months to arrive, but they would show up in force, with troop transports to spare.
Even if he won the fight today, it would leave the War Shrike a battered wreck and the Chxor reinforcements would sweep her aside when they arrived.
The only option that remained was to retreat.
“Baron, do we withdraw to the rally point?” Doko said, from aboard one of the captured cruisers.
Lucius nodded, “Lieutenant Palmer will send out the coordinates.”
Lucius had spent many nights worrying over where to go from Faraday, should it prove indefensible. His limited choices shortened with availability by distance and his own vessels’ fuel capacity. The Chxor cruisers had the longest legs of his vessels, which meant he might use them as fuel tankers. Otherwise, the War Shrike and the Gebneyr together had only twenty days of fuel for their fusion reactors.
Thankfully, the Chxor Shadow drive mirrored human designs, so the cruisers’ FTL speeds were the same as his other ships. That meant he could travel thirty days with his on-board fuel supplies, before he needed to send out his refueling vessels.
Then, of course, there were the civilian refugee ships, which had the same speeds, but some had even less sustainable distance. He eyed the data on the motley assortment of vessels. The maximum distance of the least capable ship was twenty days. That ship was also the one which carried the most people, of course. That meant the maximum distance they could travel before they must refuel would be the same distance as that vessel.
To find one location where all of the vessels could meet after numerous jumps which had to be no more than twenty days total traveling distance was something of a headache.
Lucius Giovanni had received his commission because he was a landed Baron and when His Imperial Majesty determined that a general draft of the populous was necessary, those with titles were offered commissions, rather than being forced into the ranks of the enlisted.
Lucius had kept his commission and succeeded because he planned things thoroughly, even meticulously. He expected the unexpected and even his most optimistic plans took the unplanned into account. What had kept him and his ship alive for so long was that he considered even the worst of outcomes in the event that they did indeed come to pass.
Lucius had already planned for an initial rendezvous and had the travel routes for every refugee ship already prepared. It was one of his worst case scenario plans. The four additional warships would change the plan somewhat, but not significantly. He left some leeway in numbers of refugee vessels in his evacuation plan.
“Captain, all vessels are ready to jump to shadow,” Doko was aboard one of the captured cruisers, Beeson aboard another. That left Lieutenant Palmer running three stations, and still talking with his irritating drawl. Surely not all people from Earth talk that way, Lucius thought.
“Order them to make the jump.” Lucius’s command was soft and regretful. He looked one last time at the star system which had, for a time, held so much promise. There would be other stars, other worlds, he knew, but he also felt a conviction growing within.
He stared at the central screen, with the image of the soft, blue world of Faraday. “I’ll be back.” As he said the words, the universe shifted and the War Shrike jumped to Shadow.
***
CHAPTER IV
January 1, 2403 Earth Standard Time
Anvil System
Colonial Republic Space
The poorly lit spacer bar held only two or three drunks still in celebration of the new year. The only sober and conscious occupants consisted of a sour-looking bartender and a single man in the corner booth furthest from the door.
Both of them looked up as a woman stepped into the bar. She was tall, with short black hair and dark eyes, and she wore dark pants with a loose, dark gray blouse. She wore a large pistol slung at her hip. She looked too pretty, too naive to wear such a gun to the casual eye.
The bartender – a sharp judge of character – flinched, “I don’t want any trouble.”
“I’m not here for trouble,” she answered as she stepped past him and headed straight for the corner booth.
The man in the booth lounged back as she approached. His left arm was held under the table, where he had already unholstered his own pistol. Anvil was a hard world, and like many in the Colonial Republic, a violent and bloody place often enough.
She sat down across from him.
“Rumor has it you saw something interesting in space not too long ago.” She smiled.
The man pretended to relax, but his left hand remained under the table and clenched on his pistol. “Could be. I’ve seen a lot of interesting things.”
“I might be willing to pay you for the information,” the woman lay several bills of Colonial Republic Denari on the table.
The man smirked a bit, “Awful interested, huh?” His right hand swept the bills off the table. “Who might you be? Some kind of salvager?” He asked lightly.
“Information for information, Mr. McGann,” Her response was cold.
The spacer frowned and rubbed at the black stubble on his chin, “Now the way I see it, there’s only a few that could have heard what I offered. That is pirates, maybe some mercenaries, and then there are some shadier types than that.” His voice was a slow drawl, very relaxed. It had taken him years to practice that drawl.
“Are you Mason McGann and do you have information or not?”
He sighed, leaned forward putting both elbows on the table. He spoke softly, looking into the woman‘s eyes. “I am Mason and I have the coordinates for the ship I saw.”
“Excellent.” Her answer showed actual relief. “I’ve been casing every bar in this Chxor-damned city for the past two days looking for you.” Something of the way she spoke told him that she wasn't here to fight.
The man smiled and leaned back again as
he holstered his pistol. His elbows rested on the back of the bench. “I’ve got reasons to be hard to find. But my information won’t come cheap.”
She nodded and extended one hand, “I’m Lauren Kelly.”
He shook her hand and returned to his reclined position. He cocked his head as he studied her, “So what are you willing to pay?” He made mental note that she'd taken a seat to better watch the entrance.
Lauren smiled, “I understand you lost your ship.”
His face went hard. Mason clenched his jaw. He took a deep swig of his beer. “If by lost, you mean port security seized it under false charges, you might be right.” The irony that he'd run an honest cargo, for once, and lost his ship to it...
“I can give you enough payment that you could buy any ship on this rock.”
He smirked, “Any ship, huh?”
She placed a handful of small, golden ingots on the table.
He frowned, picked one up. “These aren’t what I think are they?”
“Gold, processed but not tagged. We got them on accident. They aren’t stolen or reported missing. No one can track it and you could use it to buy whatever you want,” Lauren said.
“Why not buy yourself a ship with this?” Mason asked, his eyes narrowed.
“We don’t need freighters.” It was more information than she really wanted to give.
He snorted, “You need these ships, apparently. And you’re getting them cheap, if it’s what you and I think it is.”
“I can offer you transportation, to whatever world you want. A job even, from what I hear, you’re a skilled pilot.”
He shook his head, “I’m not in it for the money. And you’re wrong about the payment, I can’t use those stones to buy my ship back, which is the only one worth a damned thing on this planet.”
Behind her, Lauren heard the door open, heard the bartender’s voice.
“Friends of yours?” Mason asked.
Lauren's dark gaze flicked over at the door. Her back straightened. She turned to face Mason, “What’s your price?” The six men in uniform moved towards them.
