Knight's Move

by Nuttall, Christopher

  “Your clothes needed to be cut free,” Jess explained. “I think you were having a reaction to anything that touched your skin. In the end, I had to hold you in the air until you calmed down a little.”

  “Fuck,” Sandy said. She tried to sit up again; this time, she managed to sit on her ass without feeling too sore. “The next time I bitch and moan about being hurt after we spar, you laugh in my face, all right?”

  “Naturally,” Jess said. “You may have to be careful what you eat over the next few days. I think your senses may have been screwed up.”

  She unhooked a flask of water from her belt and passed it to Sandy, who sipped gratefully. But the water tasted like milk and honey, not plain water. She shuddered as she took a deeper swallow, realising the implications, Something that she needed to eat might taste like shit ...

  “Get some rest,” Jess ordered, standing up. “I told them that you were not to be disturbed.”

  “Oh,” Sandy said. “Will they listen?”

  “I think so,” Jess said. “I was quite graphic. Oh, and I promised to beat you if you did something as stupid as that again.”

  Sandy rolled her eyes, then closed them. Jess pushed something against her neck and Sandy was out like a light.

  ***

  “That’s the unlocked data package,” Cynthia said. “The XO sent us a lot of data.”

  She tapped the screen. “But this is the important bit,” she insisted. “The location of the raider base. One day away, assuming we travel at maximum speed.”

  “Which we will,” Glen said. He studied the data for a long moment. The raiders had built – or captured – an asteroid settlement and turned it into a base. And they had other starships, starships they were converting into warships ... and supplies of Federation technology. That was another piece of data for the puzzle, a puzzle that seemed to make absolutely no sense at all. “Pass the coordinates to the helm. I want us heading there as soon as possible.”

  “Understood, sir,” Cynthia said. She frowned as she skimmed the rest of the data. “I honestly don’t understand how they’re funding so much activity. Piracy doesn't pay that much and they’re certainly not making profits on most of their raids.”

  Certainly not after Xenophon, Glen thought. The serial numbers of captured materials had been shared all over the cluster. Even the most amoral dealer would hesitate to receive goods from Xenophon – and might well tip off the Colonial Militia. Whatever the Governor thought she’d found, Glen honestly couldn't see how the colonies could hope to benefit by funding the raiders.

  “I’ll go through the data packet myself,” he said, glancing over at the helm. “Time to raider base, Lieutenant?”

  “Twenty-five hours, unless the storm reverses course,” Helena informed him. “In that case, we will have to evade.”

  “Then get us underway,” Glen ordered. He tapped the console, copying the data packet to his terminal, then headed towards his office. “Mr. Cooke, make sure that the crew has a rest and something to eat. I want us in full fighting trim when we reach the raider base.”

  Cooke nodded in understanding. The raiders would have nowhere to run, at least not if they wanted to preserve their investment. They’d have to stand and fight ... and they might well have enough firepower to take out the heavy cruiser. Glen had faith in his ship, but he also knew that the raiders would be desperate. Even a destroyer could kill a heavy cruiser, if the crew were willing to ram ...

  He stepped into his office and sat down, then wrote out a brief message for the Governor and another for Admiral Porter. They had to know what he was doing, although he knew that there wouldn't be any reinforcements in time to make a difference. And maybe it would stop them doing something drastic ...

  Once the messages were sent, he looked down at the data packet from Sandy – and the much larger data packet from Fairfax. In hindsight, asking for the raw data might have been a mistake; whoever had compiled it had included absolutely everything. But he shook his head and started to go through it, comparing both data packets with the other information they’d had sent to Dauntless through the Bottleneck.

  And yet, the only conclusion that made sense was that the colonials were insane.

  They weren't insane, Glen knew. The colonials might be determined to remain independent, determined to protect themselves even if they had to eat grass to survive ... but they weren't mad. And they gained nothing from slaughtering their own people. Aliens ... maybe; humans, no. Even if the Federation didn't step in, their own people would rise up and lynch them in the streets.

  Carefully, he went back to the start and applied what his brothers had taught him. Follow the money. Who benefitted? And what was the observed end result?

  And -slowly, but surely - a very disturbing picture began to emerge.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “You want us to attack Bottleneck?”

  “Correct,” Mr. Ford said. His voice was almost completely emotionless. “The base is currently undefended. I want you to attack, do as much damage as possible and then withdraw back into hyperspace.”

  Jason stared at him. “And how many ships will we lose to the defending ships?”

  “The Bottleneck Squadron is currently blockading Fairfax,” Mr. Ford pointed out, smoothly. “If they are summoned back the moment your fleet enters the Bottleneck, they will still be unable to reach Bottleneck itself for several hours. You will have ample time to attack and withdraw, broadcasting colonial IFFs all the time.”

  “Ensuring that the Colonial Militia is blamed for the attack,” Jason said, slowly. “You are trying to spark off a war.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Ford said, simply.

  Jason hesitated. It was too late, he knew, to develop moral objections. Even if he did, it wasn't as if anyone would take him in after everything he'd done. The Federation Navy would dump him and his crews on a penal world, the Colonial Militia would put them all out the nearest airlock ... the only safety might be found with the Dragons, and only then if no human faction found out where they’d gone.

  And they would, he knew, if he refused to follow one last command.

  “This is the last,” he said, firmly. “No more attacks after this, nothing else.”

  “Very well,” Mr. Ford said.

  Jason eyed him suspiciously. He’d given in too quickly. Billons of credits had been poured into the raider operation and, as far as he could tell, only scant millions would be earned by selling off the goods they’d captured on Xenophon. A great deal of money seemed to have been poured into a black hole ... and for what? As far as he could tell, the only benefit was triggering a human civil war. It was unlikely that the entire Federation would be solidly behind a war in the Fairfax Cluster.

  “We will depart as soon as possible,” Jason said. “And then we will not return to the Fairfax Cluster.”

  Mr. Ford bowed, then nodded for him to leave the compartment.

  ***

  Sandy’s entire body still twitched from time to time – much to the amusement of her comrades on the bridge – but she had reported for duty anyway. Jess had slipped her a weapon and a communicator that didn't depend on the starship’s command network, then wished her luck. If Jess failed to take control of the troops when the command network actually failed ... Sandy forced herself to stop thinking about the potential for absolute disaster. Had she been this much of a worrier before the collar had been used to punish her for failure?

  The Captain had handed out tactical assessments like confetti, ordering the bridge crew to work their way through them while the remainder of the ship’s crew were put through a series of exercises. Everything seemed to have become a great deal more serious all of a sudden; they practiced everything from battlestations to repelling borders ... and the crew who made mistakes were rapidly zapped through their collars. For once, there weren't any newcomers to be integrated into the crew. The raiders normally flouted TFN doctrine on introducing new crewmen – only a handful were supposed to be brought onboard at any
one time – but now there were no newcomers at all. Sandy couldn't help finding that a little ominous.

  They have to be going after somewhere serious, she thought, as she worked her way through the tactical exercises. Most of them were ex-TFN, but a handful looked to have been designed by the Colonial Militia, as they focused on taking an outnumbered and outgunned force into the teeth of enemy fire. Sandy had a suspicion that most of them were completely unwinnable and their real purpose was to remind new tactical officers of what their predecessors had had to work with, but there was no way to know for sure. She made a mental note to ask her father, if she ever saw him again, then moved on to the next sim. It definitely reminded her of Bottleneck.

  That has to be the target, she told herself. But they have to be out of their minds.

  Bottleneck was a TFN base, defended by enough starships to stand off the entire Colonial Militia. Why would a group of raiders, whatever their objective, fly right into the teeth of the base’s firepower when their normal mode of operations was to retreat any time the odds weren't firmly in their favour? And yet ... the sim kept insisting that there were no defending starships, merely the base itself. For a moment, she cursed the isolation of the asteroid base. If something had happened to convince the Federation Navy to deploy the Bottleneck Squadron elsewhere, she had no way of knowing about it.

  An alarm shrilled on her console, snapping her back to reality. “New portal, sir,” she reported, glancing at the raider commander’s back. “It’s completely unscheduled.”

  ***

  “Report,” Glen snapped, as Dauntless blasted out of the portal. Ahead of them, the red icons for enemy ships and installations appeared on the display. “What have we found?”

  “One asteroid settlement, precisely where the data packet put it,” Cooke reported. “Nineteen starships in free orbit around the base, seventeen more docked to the asteroid. No automated weapons platforms or exterior defences.”

  He grinned, savagely. “I have positive identification on five of the raider starships. We found the right place.”

  Glen keyed his console, opening a channel. “This is Captain Knight of the Federation Navy,” he said. “You are ordered to shut down your weapons, shields and drives and prepare to be boarded. I am authorised to guarantee your lives if you surrender promptly, but failure to comply will result in your destruction. There will be no further warnings.”

  He closed the channel, then studied the display. They’d come out some distance from the asteroid, but their base velocity would ensure that they crossed the asteroid before the enemy managed to mount a proper defence. If, of course, they tried; it was unlikely that the raiders would stand and fight if they thought they could withdraw into hyperspace first. TFN personnel would probably fight, if only to win time for the base to be evacuated, but that sort of loyalty was rare among pirates and raiders. It was much more likely that they would destroy the asteroid, along with anyone who might talk to the investigators.

  “Enemy starships are bringing their drives to full power,” Cooke reported. “Four of them are already attempting to move away from the asteroid.”

  “Lock weapons on target,” Glen ordered. “And prepare to fire.”

  ***

  Jason raced onto his bridge, just in time to hear the end of the Federation Captain’s ultimatum.

  “No reply,” he ordered, throwing himself into the command chair. He drew his plasma pistol and placed it firmly in his lap, a reminder that disobedience would have immediate consequences. “Bring up the portal generator and prepare to take us out of here.”

  He looked over at Dana. “Signal to the other ships,” he ordered. “They are not to attempt to engage the Federation cruiser. Instead, they are to break contact and link up with us at the emergency RV point.”

  “Understood,” Dana said. The display suddenly seemed to glow with red light as the Federation cruiser swept its targeting sensors over the raider ships. It was a warning, Jason recognised; even the worst-maintained piece of sensor equipment couldn't have failed to detect the sensor sweep. “There’s panic on the asteroid.”

  Jason understood. The ships he’d kept outside the asteroid could be brought to full readiness within seconds, minutes at the most, but the vessels docked at the asteroid would take hours to bring online. By the time they were ready to go, the Federation ship would already have arrested everyone on the asteroid ... or destroyed it. There was no point in trying to save them.

  It cost him a pang to issue the order. He’d put a great deal of work into the asteroid, even though he should have known better than to become attached to his base. It was hardly the first time he and his core subordinates had had to move in a hurry. But the base couldn't be left behind to fall into Federation hands. Nor could they risk someone telling the wrong story to the Navy.

  “Send the destruct code,” he ordered. “And then take us out of here.”

  ***

  “Captain,” Cooke snapped. “The asteroid!”

  Glen swore. The asteroid was too solid for a nuclear charge to shatter it, but the tunnels and caves humans had carved out of its rock didn't stand a chance. He watched as the asteroid glowed with light, followed by a series of explosions as the docked starships died, one by one. There might be something left for the Marines to find, but he doubted it. The asteroid had been completely wrecked.

  “Fire as soon as we enter range,” he growled. If the raiders scattered, they’d had the devil’s own time tracking them down again ... and by the time they succeeded, civil war might have broken out. “Fire at will.”

  ***

  The Dragons had been stunningly ruthless. Sandy had watched them sacrifice thousands of their own lives to take out a mere handful of humans or send entire starships on suicide missions that could only slow down the human advance for a few moments. But even they would have hesitated at butchering everyone on the asteroid, merely to cover their tracks from pursuit. The shock ran around the bridge; they’d all known people on the asteroid, even if they were just whores from the brothels. And now they were all dead.

  Sandy braced herself, then keyed a command into her console. If she’d been caught inserting the commands ... surely they would have killed her by now, rather than leaving her on the bridge. The final command went out ... and the lights failed. For a long moment, the bridge was only illuminated by the glow from the consoles, then they failed too, followed rapidly by the gravity. Sandy switched her implants to infrared, picked out the Captain’s location as he drifted into the air, then drew her pistol and shot him neatly through the head.

  She pushed her conscience to the back of her mind as she switched targets, killing the bridge crew one by one until there was no one else left alive in the compartment. It was cold-blooded slaughter, no matter what they’d done to deserve it; part of her felt sick at what she’d done. But there was no time for questioning herself; she pushed herself free of the console and pulled herself along the deck towards the hatch. It had unlocked automatically as the power failed; she locked it manually, then reached for her communicator.

  “Jess?”

  “I’m here,” Jess said. The Marine sounded almost ... bored? “I’ve told everyone to get into lockdown and wait for the power to be restored. Then I donned armour and isolated myself.”

  Sandy nodded, feeling a moment of pity for the crew. She’d taken the network down completely, so completely that even the emergency lighting had failed. They’d be trapped in absolute darkness, without even gravity to show them which bulkhead was actually the deck. Panic would spread quickly, all the more so as they realised that the air circulation systems had also failed. There was enough air in the cruiser’s hull to last for several days, assuming that the airlocks and hatches remained open. If they didn't ... parts of the crew would begin to suffocate very quickly.

  They deserve it, she told herself, firmly.

  But it still didn't sit well with her.

  ***

  “Captain, one of the enemy ships has los
t power,” Cooke reported.

  “That’s the ship the XO was on,” Cynthia added. Her voice sounded strange though the command network. It took Glen a moment to realise that she felt guilty for suspecting Sandy of disloyalty. “I think she must have taken down the computer network completely.”

  Glen keyed his console. “Lieutenant Andropov, dispatch one shuttle of Marines to the stranded ship,” he ordered. “I want as many of the crew taken alive as possible.”

  “They may fire on their own ship,” Cynthia said.

  “Understood,” Glen said, sharply. He didn't need tactical advice from an intelligence officer in the middle of a battle. He’d have to have words with her later about it. “I’ll deal with it.”

  He looked over at Helena. “Keep us heading right towards the raider ships,” he ordered, bluntly. “I want them entirely focused on us.”

  ***

  Jason knew, like all experienced military men, that the Demon Murphy put in an appearance at the worst possible moment. There was no way to know just what had gone wrong on Extreme, but the results were all too clear. The light cruiser was completely powerless, utterly unable to escape ... and being overhauled rapidly by the Federation ship. If he paused long enough to destroy Extreme, he would be unable to avoid an energy duel with the Federation ship, which would go badly for his little fleet. Even if they won, they would be chopped to ribbons.