Renegades (Dark Seas Book 3)

by Damon Alan

  He activated the Stennis’s Emergency Locater Beacon, hoping the powerful signal would summon help.

  Slowly he flicked a bead of sweat away from his forehead. Unless that help came, the ship that he was here to save would soon be a crematorium for him and his eleven peers.

  * * *

  Thea Jannis stood outside, on the balcony of an apartment on the highest finished floor of a new high rise. Once finished, it would be the sixth housing structure built, sixty stories tall with twelve apartments per floor.

  The day was beautiful, a tropical storm had passed by a few days prior and now New Korvand basked under the calm skies that followed, using the favorable weather to conduct the outside work that never seemed to get caught up.

  Far below an automated machine turned sand and pulverized coral reef into concrete as it created roads for the town expansion.

  She knew she was just filling Sarah Dayson’s shoes while the Captain was away playing hero, but her goal was to make the most of her time in charge.

  Sarah would be back at some point. Then she’d want to build some sort of missile compound, or surface ships, or some other useless military thing.

  Thea didn’t know a lot about starship warfare, but finding a thousand meter long needle in a haystack the size of the Oasis star system didn’t seem very probable.

  The sad truth was that without Sarah, the construction of Jerna City often ground to a halt as different fleet sections attempted to exert their own control on various situations.

  Order suffered, and Thea knew she was a sad replacement to keep the machine running. But she was bashing heads, offering carrots, and generally doing what needed to be done to keep things rolling as best she could.

  Today, in fact, she’d already removed a construction crew from a half constructed and completely unnecessary missile defense site on the west side of the island. Getting homes built for the long suffering crewmen of the Seventh Fleet was the only real priority now. The apartment towers would foster a sense of belonging, and bring cooperation to neighbors.

  The crew for this building still hadn’t shown up for duty, and she was standing alone at the top of the half finished but desperately needed housing. They were forty-five minutes late.

  It infuriated her that nobody else shared her urgency.

  A native bird flew past, diving toward the lagoon. Its wings held steady as it glided toward the water, probably looking to find food there.

  “I wish I were you, bird,” she said. “Free to soar where I pleased.”

  She turned away from the railing, and looked into the apartment behind her. Her frustration continued to boil within, and she was so focused on her own demands that she almost missed the cracks of sound carried to her on the wind.

  Suddenly the sound penetrated her consciousness as well as her ears. She’d heard similar before. She whipped around, grasped the railing, and leaned outward to get a better view.

  In the distance, on the south side of the island, four billowing clouds rose into the sky making brilliant white parallel lines.

  What the…?

  That was one of the operational missile defense batteries Sarah had ordered built.

  Silver darts lanced into green sky at the top of white puffs, accelerating toward a target unseen.

  Thea looked at her command comm link. Nothing. She wasn’t sure who to call to find out what was happening. Malfunction. It had to be. If it was the missiles would likely drop harmlessly into the sea a few hundred kilometers away.

  The comm link rumbled as it began receiving text. She threw open the cover and stared at the screen.

  NEW KORVAND UNDER IMMINENT ATTACK. ONE FTL FLARE DETECTED.

  CURRENT SENSOR SCANS INDICATE AN EXTRA-PLANETARY DELIVERY DEVICE BREAKING INTO MULTIPLE INDEPENDENT REENTRY VEHICLES.

  TWELVE OBJECTS CURRENTLY DETECTED.

  DEFENSIVE BATTERIES ARE FIRING AS TARGETING SOLUTIONS ARE FINALIZED.

  Thea lowered the device and it fell from her hand, plummeting a hundred meters to the ground below. She stared absently out over the stunningly beautiful waters of the archipelago. This wasn’t how she’d expected to die.

  To the north more missiles rose, creating vibrant white shrouds before screaming skyward to defend New Korvand from annihilation.

  I was wrong, Sarah. I should have kept building your missiles. Why are you always right?

  A new sound reached Thea’s ears as a tear fell into the wind, toward the shattered comm link below. The sound was like lightning, as if that lightning was through her skull.

  Ground based railguns blazed upward, lances of orange flame revealed the firing solutions of the guns as the projectiles rocketed upward at hypersonic velocities. Thea listened as glass from shattered windows fell around the city.

  In moments it will all be over…

  Chapter 30 - Possibilities

  30 MAI 15329

  Peter walked down the corridor toward Alarin’s room, greeting friends and strangers alike as he passed them.

  He probably shouldn’t be enjoying himself so much, with the Hinden off chasing down Orson, but it was hard not to do so when he was doing exactly what he liked.

  Only time with Eris would be better.

  He was deep in research on the sixth force, currently emphasizing the ability of the adepts to alter the state of matter.

  He arrived at Alarin’s door and chimed.

  A steward approached, waving at him. “That room is not assigned, Lieutenant Commander.”

  Peter looked at his datapad. “This isn’t Alarin Sur’batti’s room?”

  The steward flushed a little. “The person formerly assigned to this room, Mr. Sur’batti, is now sharing a room with his lady friend.”

  Peter felt his face grow a bit flushed as well. “That room is?”

  “The next one back the way you came, sir,” the steward answered. He pointed. “Right there.”

  “Thank you, sergeant. That will be all.”

  Peter retraced his steps and chimed the appropriate door. It opened to reveal a young woman. Not as attractive as Merik had been. Younger. The expression she bore was one of challenge, not welcome.

  “Sel neth genfollar?” she said.

  Great.

  “Alarin? Alarin Sur’batti?” Peter asked.

  She smiled. To Peter it had the feel of a predator baring her teeth. She stepped back from the door and gestured for him to come in.

  “Perchani goin Alarin Sur’batti, Peter Corriea,” she said as she bowed her head toward her master.

  How does she know who I am?

  Alarin walked toward Peter from the head, in a blue robe adorned with the Alliance logo. “This is my promised, Emille. As of two days ago, Emille Sur’batti. She wants you to bow to me respectfully, as your leader.”

  “Ummmm…”

  Alarin laughed. “She’s young. And every bit as arrogant as Merik was.”

  Emille scowled. She raised her head and said something that didn’t sound like she was happy to see him.

  “And she’s not a morning person,” Alarin added. “She’s translating everything both you and I say directly out of my mind.” He looked at her to say his next words. “If she has anything useful to say, and if she learns to respect my friends as much as I do, I may even translate her words for you.” He tossed a jumper on the bed, again Alliance issue materials. “She is now my betrothed, but she’s also my acolyte. She will learn her place, or I will punish her as if she were a first year student. With pain she will remember the rest of her life.”

  “Ummm…” Peter wasn’t sure what he was stepping into, but it had the feel of an adept street fight.

  Emille’s eyes grew narrow, but now they were burning into Alarin.

  Alarin turned to her. “You will stand straight. You will not speak unless I grant you the right. You will listen, and nothing else.”

  Emille hesitated, then opened her mouth to speak.

  Peter flinched as Alarin blocked her attempt, causing Emille’s body
to stiffen. With pain or external control Peter didn’t know. In fact, he knew far too little for his own well being when it came to how the adepts dealt with each other.

  Alarin’s next action filled the small stateroom with forceful words and loud volume. “Or I will send you home to your father, rejected as my acolyte. And as such, unworthy of being the Second of Zeffult.”

  Her eyes widened and she snapped into a straight stance.

  He walked over to her. “Apparently Merik’s vision didn’t share everything with you. The Second serves the First, Emille. Not the other way around.”

  She continued to stand straight and silent.

  “And you will respect my friend,” he gestured toward Peter, “as if you were speaking to me.”

  The door was just two meters away. Peter wanted to bolt for it and run. He didn’t want to be anywhere nearby if these two adepts decided to settle matters as he’d seen Alarin do in Kampana.

  Peter recalled the ease with which a reportedly mediocre adept companion of Alarin’s had killed two armed marines.

  This was a dangerous place to be right now.

  “You have words?” Alarin asked the young woman.

  She said something Peter didn’t understand, but Alarin’s next words were delivered with a softer tone. “You are young, Emille. The only master you’ve known is your father. He spoiled you, from what I can tell. I am not a lenient master, and demand the perfection you are capable of.”

  She stood unmoving.

  He turned to Peter. “I’m sorry, my friend. I know in your culture such things are done in private. In my culture such things are done in the presence of friends, to instill fairness and restraint in the actions of the disciplinarian. It is why I speak out loud to her in your tongue. You are witness to my restraint.”

  A curt nod was all Peter could muster.

  Alarin’s attention returned to her, he rested his hand on her cheek. “Merik would have left me lying in agony for defiance such as yours. If you do not change, I may very well do the same to you. Her methods proved effective more than once.”

  Unmoving.

  Peter was surprised when Alarin turned away from her then took two steps and embraced him. “This is Peter. He is my friend, one of the best I’ve ever had. You will address him as Peter Corriea, he will not be considered familiar to you until you have earned it and he has given you permission. Am I understood?”

  She nodded.

  “He is, as I am always, your master for the duration of our stay here. You will cooperate with him in every way regarding your gift. You will hold nothing back. If he tells you to do something, you will do it.”

  Spittle suddenly ran freely in Peter’s mouth. He swallowed and hoped it wasn’t audible.

  Alarin stepped away from Peter to stand face to face with Emille.

  They peered eye to eye, although she seemed to look through him and not at him. “You will defend him with your life. If he is harmed through your action or inaction, I will hold you responsible. Am I clear, acolyte?”

  “Sa, charinne,” she replied.

  The interaction felt to Peter as if two warships of opposing forces had come close for combat, and the victor was allowing the weaker vessel to limp home with token damage as a warning. A game of posturing between dreadnaughts.

  He held his hands out before him and looked at them.

  They were shaking like he’d never seen.

  “You are released,” Alarin said.

  Emille’s head snapped in Peter’s direction. “Peter Corriea, honored guest, may I offer you some tea?”

  A gentle smile now graced her visage. Her shoulders were relaxed and her right hand extended, palm up and open. Her eyes bore none of the animosity they had when he’d arrived.

  Peter’s mouth dropped open. “You speak Galactic Standard?”

  “When I am unified with my mate, I know all he does,” she replied. “Tea?”

  Peter nodded. She behaved as if the previous five minutes had never happened. It was insanity when viewed from his cultural reference. But apparently not theirs.

  Regardless, Alarin seemed to have made his point.

  Chapter 31 - Vanquished

  31 MAI 15329

  Sarah Dayson - Hinden

  Sarah seethed as she floated in the captain’s cabin of the Hinden. She’d come up with a rational plan. It just wasn’t to her liking.

  During two decades of fighting the Hive she’d been cold and calculating. Just as they were, after all… they were machines. Machines that looked like people in some cases, but still soulless monsters with no malice, just brutal calculation of purpose.

  This situation, on the other hand, was betrayal.

  Cold hearted, merciless, and born of the evil that resides only in the hearts of men.

  It was hard to control her hatred. She hadn’t hated Merik this much, at least until near the end when Franklin was taken. Even then, as personal as that tragedy had made the conflict, Merik had done much of her wrong out of illness and ignorance. By the time Merik died, there was no hate.

  Only pity.

  Orson, on the other hand, was a sociopath. Nothing mattered to him but his own wants and needs, and he’d do anything to satisfy them.

  The horrible things occurring on the Schein mystified Sarah, and she simply didn’t have the faculties to understand that sort of malevolence.

  Her path was clear. She needed to kill him for the safety of all, but the ideas she usually developed with ease had abandoned her.

  She hated him. It was clouding her judgment.

  The problem was she was in a position of weakness. She didn’t have the military capacity to adequately defend her people, and he still had FTL missiles available for use. Not to mention over a hundred conventional nuclear weapons.

  When the reports came in regarding the latest swipe he’d taken at the fleet and Sarah’s people, she’d felt something return she’d wanted to be gone forever.

  The deep seated need to obliterate her enemy.

  Reconnaissance drones flying through the debris clouds over New Korvand had determined two of the MIRVs to be nuclear, ten to be decoys. The attack was ended with no casualties as a result of the missile platforms she’d ordered constructed.

  One thing was for certain. He wasn’t pretending. He was willing to engage in a protracted effort to get his way. He wasn’t using much of his ordinance, at least not yet. What he’d spent against her was used wisely in Sarah’s opinion, although she was loathe to admit it.

  She hadn’t expected a weapon’s mate to have that sort of strategic cunning, and, to be honest, she hadn’t expected his brand of cold blooded brutality. When he’d nuked Zeffult, that was an attack on outsiders. Nuking New Korvand? He’d fought with, lived with, survived with the people he had casually tried to kill.

  No, he wasn’t a sociopath. He was a psychopath.

  To make matters worse, the current situation was her fault. She’d failed to consider potential internal threats.

  But there was a price to pay for that failure.

  The second missile had struck the Stennis’s drydock. Now the asteroid-turned-dock was in a decaying orbit around Ember.

  Whether that was by design or not, Sarah didn’t know. Maybe Orson was just a special sort of lucky. The luck of the insane.

  Regardless, there wasn’t any rescuing the dock. According to the experts on the Fyurigan the fleet didn’t have the spare heavy lift shuttle capacity to save her ship.

  The only contact with the Stennis was a functioning emergency locater beacon. She had no idea what condition he was in, or if the caretaker crew was dead or alive.

  And, at the moment, she could do nothing to change that. It was her move, and she intended to make it a killing thrust.

  “Contact, three-four-zero mark zero-one-five,” Harmeen said.

  “Maintain sensor silence,” Sarah ordered. “Passive only.”

  “Aye, sir,” Harmeen answered.

  “Tell me what it is, Mr. Harmeen.�
��

  “I need more time to collect the data on passive.”

  “I’ll wait,” she said.

  Minutes passed. Information slowly streamed in, giving Harmeen a better picture.

  “I’m detecting hydrogen emissions. Some oxygen, some hydrocarbons. Two vents noted on the sunlit side.” Harmeen looked over at Sarah. “It’s a cometary fragment, Captain.”

  “Laser scan it,” she ordered. “Tight beam, Mr. Harmeen. Don’t give us away.”

  A topographical map of the object appeared on the main screen. It was long, over a kilometer, but narrow. The object was dark, covered with the organic soup that most comets had on their surface.

  “Composition matches the Oort cloud objects of this star system,” Harmeen confirmed.

  “Catalog it for our navigation charts,” Sarah said. “How close will it pass?”

  “About fourteen thousand kilometers.”

  Sarah stared at the viewscreen for a moment. If they adjusted their course now, they’d set off passive sensors for millions of kilometers in all directions.

  Fusion engines weren’t exactly subtle.

  “Let it ride, Mr. Harra. No course adjustments. Mr. Harmeen, keep an eye on that fragment.”

  Sarah wished for a reliable system chart. There were millions of uncharted ice chunks just like this one for the Schein to hide near.

  * * *

  Garrette Orson - Schein

  “We’re being scanned,” Jace reported. His voice held an edge of fear.

  “You’re afraid,” Orson noted. He brought up the sensor readouts. Laser scan. Low power, tight beam. Clearly intended for them.

  “Has the Hinden made any course changes?” Heinrich asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you see any heat signatures from their railguns or missile tubes?”

  “No.”

  “Then they don’t know we are here,” she said. “We are just another space rock and my plan has worked.”

  “They’re still scanning us,” Jace countered.

  “Standard procedure,” Heinrich answered. “If you actually were fit to be on this bridge, you’d know that.”