by Ryk Brown
“What else can it do?” Kyle wondered.
“Change environment to the beaches of Ipsil Gada,” the steward requested. A moment later, the forest was transformed into a vast stretch of sparkling white sands against a brilliant blue ocean, complete with crashing waves and seabirds squawking in the distance. The humidity of the forest was gone, replaced by an afternoon ocean breeze.
“This is amazing!” Kyle exclaimed.
“Each room has its own environmental simulator terrace, albeit on a smaller scale,” the steward explained.
“How much is all this costing the captain?” Marcus asked.
“Nothing,” the steward assured him. “Such accommodations are provided for all families of those being treated in the Symyri Medical Center. The doctor believes that a patient’s family plays a major role in successful treatment. They must be happy and stress-free, or at least as much as can be expected, while their loved one is undergoing medical treatment.”
“But sixteen rooms?” Neli wondered. “Who has that big of a family?”
“Granted, it does not happen often,” the steward admitted.
“I don’t believe it,” Marcus grumbled.
“Marcus,” Neli scolded.
“I assure you, these accommodations are included in whatever compensation the doctor and Captain Scott have already agreed upon,” the steward assured Marcus. “There will be no additional charges.”
“Even if we ask for sixteen more rooms?” Marcus asked.
“That I am not sure of,” the steward admitted. “However, we would disclose any additional charges for the added rooms, prior to your acceptance of them.”
“Fair enough,” Marcus said, scratching his head in disbelief of their luxurious accommodations.
“Would you like me to demonstrate the accommodations in the staterooms, sir?”
“I think we can figure it out,” Marcus replied.
“As you wish. Will there be anything else?” the steward asked.
Marcus looked at Neli, who shook her head. “Uh, I guess not,” Marcus replied. “Are we supposed to tip you?” he wondered.
“We are not allowed to accept gratuities,” the steward replied, “but I thank you for the consideration.” He turned to Kyle and Melanie. “I do hope that your mother recovers,” he told them, “and if there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask for me. My name is Olan.”
“Thank you, Olan,” Melanie said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Kyle added.
Marcus followed Olan to the door, then peeled off to the left into the galley, immediately opening the door to the large refrigerator. “Holy crap! Score!” he exclaimed. He turned back toward the others, a grin on his face. “Who’s hungry?”
* * *
Nathan, Cameron, and General Telles studied the images that Deliza and Lieutenant Commander Shinoda had brought them.
“Right there,” Deliza said, pausing the video for a moment. “Look at the ground. No dust. That means no thruster wash. The Dusahn shuttles aren’t using lift thrusters. They’re using anti-gravity fields, just like the ones on the Contra ships you brought back. Even their fighters are using them. Maybe even their gunships. We’ve seen them on the surface. We just haven’t seen them actually land yet.”
“You think the Dusahn got the anti-gravity technology from the Contras?” General Telles asked.
“No way of telling,” Deliza admitted. “Anti-gravity lift systems were already in widespread use before the bio-digital plague, so it stands to reason that many of the fleeing colonists brought the technology with them. Even the Aurora uses anti-gravity lift beds to move heavy cargo around.”
“Yes, but it can’t lift something more than half a meter off the deck,” Nathan pointed out.
“There’s really no way to tell where the Dusahn got the technology,” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda stated. “To be honest, I’m not sure it matters much.”
“There is one way to tell,” Nathan corrected. “We could steal one of their shuttles.”
“Why take the risk?” Cameron wondered.
“Deliza, if we brought you one of the Dusahn shuttles, could you figure out a way to disrupt their anti-gravity lift systems?” Nathan asked.
“Probably.”
“That could provide a tactical advantage,” the general admitted.
“If nothing else, it would give us another anti-gravity lift system to study, before we start trying to retrofit our own ships with the technology,” Deliza said.
“You want to fit our ships with anti-gravity lift systems?” Cameron asked.
“Of course,” Deliza replied, surprised that Cameron was questioning the idea. “The propellant savings alone would be worth the effort.”
“It would also allow our ships and shuttles to carry more weight,” Nathan realized. “Reapers carrying twice the ordnance, fighters carrying twice as many missiles, and the Gunyoki…they can barely make it from the surface to orbit on a full load of propellant. Because of that, they currently offer us no tactical advantage in atmospheric operations. Imagine their ground support capabilities; with those missile pods and their plasma turrets…they’d be frightening.”
“I’m not disagreeing,” Cameron pointed out, “I’m just surprised you are already thinking of refits. I thought it would take much more time.”
“I’m not suggesting we do it tomorrow,” Deliza admitted. “We haven’t even completely disassembled one of them yet, let alone scanned their components for replication. But once we have, I see no reason to delay refit.”
“I’d suggest you talk to Commander Verbeek, first,” Nathan suggested. “I suspect he’s going to have a few concerns that need to be addressed.”
“Of course,” Deliza agreed.
“Anything else to report?” Nathan asked the lieutenant commander.
“Yes, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda replied. “During the siege of the Ranni plant, we picked up a conversation between one of the Rakuen generals and one of their ministers. They were talking about ships called Orochis. They were used during the war between Rakuen and Neramese. Apparently, they’ve been mothballed since then. They were talking about pressing them back into service and fitting them with jump drives, using the Ranni plant to make the drives. The general felt it was more important to fit out the Gunyoki, first.”
“I remember those ships,” Deliza commented. “When we first set up operations on Rakuen, there was talk of turning them into jump cargo ships, but it never happened.”
“Any idea why?” Cameron wondered.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Why is this the first we’re hearing about these ships?” Nathan wondered.
“Probably because they’re not where you’d expect to find mothballed space warships,” the lieutenant commander replied. “They’re on the surface.”
“So they’re hidden,” Cameron surmised.
“Nope, in plain sight.”
“Then how did we miss them?” Nathan wondered.
“We didn’t,” the lieutenant commander replied. “We thought they were seagoing vessels. They’re floating in a sheltered harbor, along with a bunch of other mothballed ships.”
“Their spaceships float?” Nathan said, surprised.
“Their world is predominantly water,” General Telles reminded him. “It makes perfect sense, both logistically and economically.”
“How big are they?” Cameron asked.
“We don’t have exact measurements just yet, but they appear to be about the size of a Dusahn gunship, with a bit more width and overall mass.” The lieutenant commander pressed a button on the remote, causing an aerial image of the Orochi ships to appear on the view screen in the command briefing room. “So far, we’ve discovered five of them in a protected harbor, o
ff Onaro Seykora, and another seven at the Jinnatay harbor in the southern seas. However, our research indicates there were at least twenty of them in service during the war, so…”
“What are those pads on the sides?” Nathan asked, studying the aerial photos.
“We did some research on the Orochi ships,” the lieutenant commander explained. “They were designed as Gunyoki carriers. Their mission profile was to ferry fourteen Gunyoki fighters to high orbit over Neramese, where the Gunyoki would attack targets on the surface. They had considerable defensive weapons, as well as pulse energy cannons that could reach the surface of Neramese; although, they were not very accurate. For the most part, their weapons were only used for defense, while the Gunyoki carried out their attacks. They were equipped with very short-range FTL drives, allowing them to reach Neramese in less than ten minutes.”
“I was under the assumption that the Gunyoki were basically defensive craft,” Cameron commented.
“Originally, they were,” Lieutenant Commander Shinoda agreed. “The Orochi ships enabled the Gunyoki to carry out offensive operations. It is believed that the Orochi were largely responsible for the Rakuen’s victory over Neramese. Those ‘pads’ you asked about, were the platforms on which the original Gunyoki fighters rode. They were lowered into the hull during FTL operations, probably to make it easier to establish and maintain the mass-canceling fields the old FTL drives used.”
“How did the flight crews get in and out of their fighters?” Nathan wondered.
“On the surface,” the lieutenant commander replied, “before and after the mission. The entire ship only had a crew of twenty-eight.”
“How the hell did they get that thing back and forth between the surface and orbit?” Nathan wondered.
“The bulk of the ship is comprised of propulsion and propellant storage. Their lift drives are very powerful and very efficient, even by today’s standards.”
Cameron noticed the look in Nathan’s eyes as he studied the images. “What are you thinking?”
Nathan’s gaze shifted toward Cameron. “Eleven ships, fourteen pads, a quad jump-missile launcher on each pad…” Nathan smiled. “That’s six hundred and sixteen jump missiles. Fit those ships with jump drives, and they’d be a lot harder to pick-off than surface-based launchers.”
“We don’t even have fifty-six jump missiles left on board this ship,” Cameron reminded him.
“Maybe not, but we’ve got the industrial infrastructure of two highly motivated worlds at our disposal,” Nathan pointed out.
“If the Orochi were the reason the Nerameseans were defeated, they will not react favorably to their resurrection,” General Telles warned.
“Especially if they are carrying fifty-six jump missiles each,” Cameron added.
“Mix the crews,” Nathan replied. “Half from Rakuen, and half from Neramese. Half of them commanded by a Rakuen, the other half by a Neramesean. Make the XO from the opposite world as the CO, and have a dual-key missile launch system.”
“That might work,” Cameron commented.
“Agreed,” the general added.
“There could be one little wrinkle,” Deliza warned. “When Neramese surrendered, they did so only under the condition that Rakuen destroyed the Orochi fleet.”
“Are you telling me Neramese doesn’t know that the Orochi still exist?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t think so,” Deliza replied.
Nathan let out a sigh. “Well, this should be interesting.”
CHAPTER TWO
As Jessica entered Sanctuary Security’s main administration center, she immediately took notice of multiple security cameras, as well as several strategically placed, miniature stunner turrets. While the cameras were obvious, and prevalent throughout the asteroid station, the turrets here were recessed and easy to miss by the untrained eye. It was obvious that this lobby was meant to promote a sense of confidence. Here, of all places, one was safe, even without the threat of stunner turrets looming from the ceiling in every corner.
However, the officers working the front desk, as well as at the numerous desks further back, were all wearing sidearms. Even those not in uniform had obvious bulges under their suit jackets. The Sanctuary Security Force took pride in their strength, training, and numbers—a point that amused her. It was easy to feel superior when you were the only ones carrying guns and all your world’s visitors were pre-screened.
Jessica stepped up to the counter, not one full meter from a barrel-chested, bearded officer on the other side. She waited a moment, expecting the officer to offer greeting or, at least, acknowledge her presence. When he did not, she cleared her throat. The officer glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and then continued with his task without uttering a word in response.
“Excuse me,” Jessica said, making no effort to hide her annoyance. “I need to speak to the person in charge.”
“In charge of what?” the officer grumbled without looking up.
“In charge of you,” Jessica replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“That would be my wife,” the officer replied in similar tone, “and she’s not here.”
“Good thing,” Jessica snapped back, “otherwise, I’d have to tell her what an ass her husband is.”
“She already knows,” the officer replied, almost laughing.
“I’d like to speak to the person in charge of station security,” Jessica announced, changing tactics, “if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble for me,” the officer replied. “Might be for the commander, though.”
“You people always so nice?” Jessica asked playfully, trying to keep the banter light and non-adversarial.
“Caught me on a bad day, lady.” The officer finally looked up, giving Jessica his full attention. “I’m normally a sweetheart of a guy.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real teddy bear.”
“A what?”
“Nothing,” Jessica replied, not wanting to take the time to explain. “May I please speak to the person in charge of station security?”
“Better,” the officer replied. “And you are?”
“Lieutenant Commander Jessica Nash, chief tactical officer and head of security for the Aurora, under the command of Captain Nathan Scott.”
The officer looked her over, trying to hide his reaction to her response. “I’ll see if the commander has time for you. Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you,” Jessica replied, nearly choking on the words. She moved over to the seating area, scanning the room as she took her seat. There were a total of fifteen uniformed officers and at least six others in civilian attire, four of whom she was certain were carrying weapons. In addition, there were four offices across the back, all with closed doors. They were close enough together that they likely led to small offices, none of which would have more than a few people in them at any one time. She also noted that corridors led off to the left and right of the room, at both the front and back corners.
A few minutes later, the officer returned, stepping over to the security gate at the end of the counter. “Lieutenant Commander,” he said, inviting her over.
Jessica rose and walked over to the officer at the gate.
“Place your feet within the red circles, and hold your arms up, hands higher than your head,” the officer instructed.
Jessica complied. A moment later, a flat, red beam of light moved up from the floor, passing over her body from feet to fingertips, and back down again. The officer watched the display on the wall as the scan completed, then pressed a button, causing the gate to swing open.
“You may enter,” the officer announced.
Jessica stepped through the gate, which automatically closed behind her as she followed the officer across the room, toward one of the offices along the back w
all. She could feel the eyes of the other officers at their desks as she passed, unsure of whether they were curious about who she worked for or because of the skintight outfit she was wearing. She assumed it was the latter, which was usually the case. It was one of the easiest ways to get the drop on a male adversary; causing them to think with their little brains instead of their big ones.
Unfortunately, the moment she stepped into the commander’s office, she realized her outfit might not have its usual effect.
“Lieutenant Commander Nash, this is Commander Elise Manderon, chief of Sanctuary Security Forces,” the officer introduced.
“An honor to meet you, sir,” Jessica replied, paying the respect due her rank and position.
“The pleasure is mine, Lieutenant Commander,” Commander Manderon insisted. “These are two of my officers, Lieutenant Jordu and Captain Stegarat.”
“Lieutenant, Captain,” Jessica greeted, reaching out to shake each of their hands while she mentally sized them up. The lieutenant was a bit younger, had a firm handshake, and appeared to be physically fit. The captain, on the other hand, although firm of handshake and confident in his expression, had clearly been riding a desk for some time, now. The ring on his finger probably meant he was a family man, and thus had retired from frontline duty long ago. Experience would likely be on his side, but not physical prowess.
A quick glance at the commander told the same story. She, too, wore a wedding ring and had become a bit rotund behind her desk. She appeared confident, as expected, but it was the confidence one had from outranking everyone around her, rather than being the toughest, most deadly person in the room.
“Please, be seated,” the commander invited, gesturing toward the empty chair next to Captain Stegarat. “I don’t normally grant an audience with someone just because they ask for it,” the commander continued as everyone took their seats. “However, the efforts of the Aurora and her crew, on the behalf of humanity, are well known, even on Sanctuary.”
