Birthright: The Complete Trilogy

by Rick Partlow

  A klaxon sounded, echoing across the bridge, throughout the ship and in the ear bud of every 'link of every crewmember. It was ear-splitting and nerve-shattering and it was meant to be. There were damn few reasons for it to sound, and this one...

  Red letters floated across his vision: reactor malfunction. Containment failure imminent.

  "We have more important things to worry about."

  * * *

  Lieutenant Jose Velazquez's hand went to his ear instinctively, trying to shut out the blaring alarm that was sounding there, but it immediately reduced in volume and an automated voice began droning.

  "All hands to emergency stations. This is not a drill."

  His mind raced, trying to remember when they had been drills, trying to remember what Chief Lee's first actions had been...

  The shuttles, he thought suddenly. The cargo shuttles that were docking...he had to make sure they were warned off.

  Velazquez glanced around the small Security station, little more than a closet in one of the inner chambers of the ship, separated from the bridge by six levels of decks. He'd been on duty alone, but no one else had shown up yet, despite the alarm. He had to contact the shuttles himself.

  "Cargo Flight 323-Alpha and 323-Bravo," he broadcast, adjusting his 'link to the correct channel, "this is the Thaddeus Moore, Lt. Velazquez, do you copy?"

  He waited for a long moment, but there was no response.

  "Cargo Flight 323-Alpha and 323-Bravo," he repeated, "this is the Thaddeus Moore. We are in Emergency Protocols. Break off docking procedures immediately and return to the port. Do you copy?"

  Nothing. "That's just bloody wonderful," he murmured, looking around again.

  He was about to contact one of his subordinates, who still hadn't made it to their stations, and instruct them to physically go down to the docking bay and warn the shuttles off, when the alarm klaxon began sounding again. This time, it was a different tone, one he'd never expected to hear in his whole career.

  "Abandon ship," the automated voice droned urgently. "Abandon ship immediately. This is not a drill. All personnel abandon ship immediately. Reactor containment breach imminent."

  "Jesus!" he breathed in disbelief. He looked to his datalink readout, trying to get more details, but there was nothing. "Ship's status," he said, trying to access the shipwide computer network. Nothing again. The whole network was down and no one was communicating via the 'links. He cursed under his breath and tried the communications console at his workstation, but every indicator on that board was solid red: no connection.

  Velazquez tried to control his breathing. He couldn't contact anyone and he had to get to a lifepod. But the damn shuttles...if comms were down, someone had to warn them.

  A plan solidified in his thoughts. There were lifepods and passenger shuttles in the docking bay. He'd head down there and warn the cargo crews, then if he had to, he could catch a ride back on one of their boats.

  He tried to push his own looming panic deep inside him and concentrate on the mission, but as he headed out into a corridor already alive with crew waiting for the lifts or heading into the central access tubes, he couldn't banish one thought: why were the comms not working?

  * * *

  Tyya-Khin was trying hard not to look at the blood. There wasn't much; the pressure suits the human pilots had been wearing had contained most of it, and the Tahni troops had quickly disposed of the bodies into the empty cargo containers from which the strike force had emerged mid-flight. But here and there a drop or two would float by him in the cockpit, a crimson globule orbiting some point he had not the math to determine, until it splattered unceremoniously against a bulkhead when the shuttle's maneuvering thrusters fired.

  He hadn't felt uncomfortable killing humans back when all this had started. He'd personally shot two on the night of the uprising and had no thought of it. But as time went on, it felt less like the necessary work of a noble fight for freedom and more like marks on his spirit, chalking up a debt he owed but could never pay.

  What debt will I owe after this? he wondered, letting his eyes wander over the elongated wedge of the human ship. It was beautiful in the way of a well-made weapon.

  "Someone on the ship is trying to contact us," G'san-Fal told him from the copilot's seat. He was the same age as Tyya-Khin yet he seemed younger somehow, despite the fact they'd grown up just a few doors away from each other. Tyya felt guilty having him along, but the male would not have remained behind.

  "Ignore it," Tyya instructed. "The data worm is working?"

  "Yes," G'san confirmed. "Internal and external communications are scrambled. As far as any of them know, their reactor is about to go critical."

  "There!" Tyya exclaimed, pointing at the viewscreen. The ship was growing larger in the holographic image, and they could see the small, silvery cylinders begin to eject along the spine of the vessel. "Lifepods are being launched. The deception is working."

  He felt an irrational relief that he wouldn't have to kill the crew of the ship; as if sparing a couple hundred would make up for the millions, or tens of millions he would slaughter if this worked.

  "Docking in five minutes," he informed the troops back in the cargo area, speaking into the audio pickup on the console. "Be ready."

  Behind them, the second shuttle was firing its braking thrusters, slowing its approach to wait for them to enter the docking bay first. If they faced resistance and failed to board, it would be the job of the troops on that shuttle to take their place.

  Maneuvering thrusters hammered their boat forward with sharp bangs against the hull and the view outside shifted as the docking bay seemed to swallow them up, lit from within but so much dimmer than the glare of the system's primary gleaming off the outside of the cruiser. The bay was mostly empty, only two of the docking stations occupied by the ship's complement of assault shuttles, and he could already see one of those boats beginning to separate from its pressure collar as it was used for the evacuation.

  They were probably trying to communicate with his cargo shuttle as well, but he didn't bother to ask G'san. He found himself holding his breath as they slipped into the berth, the automated collar extending out to seal against their own airlock with a soft vibration through the hull. He half expected the assault shuttle to figure out what was actually happening and target their boat with a missile; instead, the attack boat cleared the docking bay and then shot away with a flare of boron fusion drives.

  "Docking collar is secure," G'san told him.

  "All troops disembark," Tyya broadcast to the males back in the cargo hold. "Group One head for the bridge, Group Two to Engineering." He hesitated, but he knew it had to be said. "Kill any human you see."

  * * *

  Jose Velazquez felt a hazy tinge of unreality settling over everything as he sailed headlong through the Thaddeus Moore's central access tube. The broad, padded tunnel ran down the center of the ship and was the primary way of getting from one deck to another when the cruiser was in zero gravity. Usually, it was crowded with crewmembers, zipping past each other with practiced ease and entering and exiting through the open hatches from each deck in what could pass for a ballet. It was empty now, except for him. He'd only been assigned to the Moore for six months, but he'd never seen it empty.

  The whole thing felt like a Virtual Reality simulation being run for training, and he had to remind himself to start braking against the roughened surface of the padding before he slammed into far end of the tube. The fore end of the access tube terminated at a hub with four different hatches that led to the bridge, the twin gravimetic sensor bays and the docking bay. Velazquez pushed off the side of the padded tunnel and sailed through the hatch opposite the bridge exit, which led to the docking facilities.

  He caught himself against the padded ring that lined the exit hatch before launching out of it with the sole of his right boot and floating out into the ship's utility bay. It was the largest open chamber in the whole vessel, the place where fragile cargo could be
sorted and distributed. Missiles, fuel and reaction mass could be loaded through exterior ports, but small replacement parts, raw food and other perishables were unloaded from shuttles in the utility bay and transported in the main cargo lifts.

  Velazquez touched a control on his 'link that activated the sticky plates in his boots, then touched them to the deck to anchor himself facing the far bulkhead. The space across from the exit hatch was lined with four separate three-meter-wide airlocks, each leading into a metal-lined track that could be magnetized at need to control cargo pallets. The indicator lights for three of the locks were red; the one on the far side of the bay flashed green.

  "At least there'll be someone to give me a ride," Velazquez muttered. He'd been fighting down nightmare scenarios that had left him trapped on board the Moore as it vanished in a spherical white fusion explosion.

  The viewscreen that took up about half the wall above the airlocks showed the one cargo boat securely docked while the other was beginning its entry into the bay. He shook his head, annoyed at the stupidity of the shuttle crews. Didn't they see the lifepods ejecting? Didn't they notice the lack of communications? Couldn't they see there was some sort of emergency? If he didn't need them to give him a ride out of here, he'd have chewed them all out.

  Well, no, probably not, he admitted to himself. He wasn't very good at yelling at people.

  The airlock opened with a pneumatic hiss and his mouth opened to begin explaining the situation to the crew...and closed with a click of teeth when he saw the battle-armored troops inside, bristling with weapons. His eyes widened and the gears in his brain began grinding, fighting against the cognitive dissonance of not wanting to believe what he was seeing or accept its implications.

  One of the armored figures seemed to notice him just then, swinging around with an economy of motion that told him they were anchored to the deck with magnetic boots, and Velazquez found himself staring down the yawning muzzle of what looked like a flechette gun. He stopped trying to think and just moved.

  Later, he wouldn't remember how exactly he'd done it, but he was instantly flying backwards through the air, squeezing his knees into his chest and absorbing the impact on the padded entrance collar for the access hatch with the big muscles of his back. He uncoiled and launched himself downward just as he heard the first shot explode in the confined space of the utility bay like a bomb going off.

  He didn't look back as he propelled himself at ever-greater speed down the access tunnel, but he knew they would be after him in seconds; how many depended on how practiced they were in using magnetic boots in zero gravity. He had to get out of the tunnel, but he also had to get out somewhere he could hide.

  There's no containment breach, he realized abruptly. This is an attack!

  He shoved the thought down, forcing his mind to work on an escape plan before it was too late. Wait...deck six. There. He pushed off to his right and pulled himself through the access hatch, exiting the tunnel without hearing any gunshots on his heels. Hopefully that meant he'd made it out before the...whoever...had made it in.

  It's not "whoever," he chided himself, pushing off into an interior corridor. It's the damn Tahni.

  How the hell did Tahni insurgents get on this ship? How the hell did they penetrate the ship's systems? If they'd caused this alert as a distraction to take the ship, they had to have the access codes, which meant they could use the ship's security scanners to find him or anyone else who hadn't managed to get off the Moore yet.

  Velazquez attached his boot's sticky plate to the deck next to an unmarked, meter-and-a-half high access panel set in a niche in the bulkhead next to the ship's computer maintenance bay, and a look of determination settled over his face. He touched his palm to the ID plate beside the panel and it slid aside at his authorization, revealing a dark, cramped alcove that led back further than he could see. One quick look over his shoulder to make sure no one was following, then he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, plunging into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty

  "This is a real shitstorm we're walking into," Holly Morai said calmly, eyes following the tracks of the lifepods ejecting from the Thaddeus Moore. "You sure we can't get some help on this?" Her gaze flickered over to Kara McIntire, then back at the otherwise empty crew compartment of the small shuttle.

  "Sure," Kara said. "If you can tell me who I can trust with Cal and Deke gone. Otherwise, we may as well hang a sign on our back that says 'please shoot me.'"

  "I don't think we'll need the sign." Holly nodded towards the viewscreen, where the two cargo shuttles were moving into docking position. "Why didn't we use an assault shuttle? We could have blown them out of orbit from here."

  "Because the only assault shuttles onplanet were out on patrol," Kara said with a tone of strained patience. "This is happening now, not two hours from now. The only armed ship available was my missile cutter, and it's too damn big to fit in the Moore's docking bay."

  "I know," Holly admitted. She allowed herself a tight smile. "I bitch when I'm nervous."

  "I bite people's heads off when I'm nervous," Kara said, eyes on the cruiser as she manipulated the controls and the main thrusters kicked them in the pants. "I don't know how the hell Deke puts up with me sometimes."

  "He's changed a lot," Holly said. "How did you manage that?"

  "He was lonely." Kara fired braking thrusters and slowed their acceleration, making sure both cargo shuttles were inside the docking bay to avoid detection. "He was burned out on trying to be an outlaw, and General Murdock and I were offering something that was close to the last family he remembered having." She blew out a sigh. "I worry sometimes that it's the idea of a family that he loves and not really me."

  "Be his family then," Holly said, shrugging as if the answer was obvious. "Cal is his brother and he'll never stop loving Cal. If you're his family and not just his boss, he won't stop loving you either."

  Kara looked at her, mouth dropping open slightly as if the depth of the answer shocked her. "What?" Holly demanded. "I've known these guys since they were kids. You don't think I know how their heads are screwed on?"

  Kara shook her head and turned back to the controls. "I think we've given them enough time," she said. "I'm taking us in. Their communications and sensors still seem to be down, so hopefully they won't notice us."

  "Hope in one hand," Holly said, swinging out of her seat to pull on a combat harness and grab a pulse carbine out of a locker behind the cockpit, "and shit in the other. See which one fills up faster." She reached into the pocket of her utility fatigues and pulled on the featureless mask that was the final component of her byomer Reflex armor. Everything went black for just a moment before the circuitry in the mask synched with her implants and she saw normally again. She braced herself against the acceleration couch as the shuttle jolted forward on a short burst from the main engines.

  Kara unstrapped from her own couch and began gearing up herself, leaving the shuttle to dock on computer control. "They're letting the crew escape," she said, her voice thoughtful.

  "So?" Holly asked, hearing her own voice sounding a bit muffled through the mask. "It got them out of the way."

  "They didn't have to," Kara pointed out, pausing to pull her own facemask on. They have control of the ship's systems, she'd switched to neurolink communicator with the mask on. They could have purged the ship's atmosphere and killed most of them in less than a minute.

  Maybe they figured this would be easier.

  Kara shook her head even though she wasn't speaking. It's not. It's riskier. But they did it anyway. He did it anyway.

  Tyya-Khin? Holly asked, bracing herself for one final time as the shuttle's main engine burned for a heartbeat then cut out and the stars disappeared in the shadow of the docking bay on the viewscreen.

  He's their leader, Kara said, attaching her carbine to the elastic lanyards on her tactical vest, but I get the sense that he's being dragged into this. If we can convince him he's being used by Kah-Rint...

>   The braking thrusters beneath the shuttle's nose fired with a trio of loud bangs, then the port maneuvering rockets kicked them towards starboard and the shuttle nestled into a berth just behind one of the cargo boats. Both women grabbed for support to keep from being thrown across the hold into the far bulkhead.

  They won't be in the talking mood, Holly predicted. She watched the airlock collar extend slowly out of the side of the docking bay to mate with the ring around the shuttle's main lock. There was a grinding thump that vibrated through the shuttle's body as it attached itself to them.

  Not at first, Kara agreed, moving to the side of the shuttle's hatch and raising her carbine as she waited for it to open. We'll probably have to kill quite a few of them before they decide to talk.

  That's what I like about you, Kara, Holly said, amusement leaking through the neurolinked translation as she moved into place beside the other woman. You're a realist.

  * * *

  The command bridge of the Thaddeus Moore was a sterile and lifeless place, Tyya-Khin thought, hands grasping the back of the Captain's acceleration couch. There was nothing of the humans who had crewed it: no totems of their gods, no medallions of luck, no family crests affixed to the walls. The work stations were impersonal and functional, though enormously clever. The haptic-feedback holographic control displays were far in advance of what Tahni ships had used back in the war.

  Those controls had been locked down when they'd first arrived on the bridge, but a manually entered code that Kah-Rint had provided had taken care of that. Now his technicians had shed their battle armor and were manipulating the holographic displays, banishing the false alarms and fake reactor readings from the system penetration worm with which the very resourceful yet very mysterious expatriate Tahni had managed to infect the human systems.

  "Three minutes till we're ready to leave orbit, Commander," G'san told him, satisfaction on his face as he tamed the cruiser's systems.