Rebel Fleet

by B. V. Larson

  “Looks like this battle is over, Chief,” Samson said. “I’m not sure if we won or not, though.”

  “Me neither,” I said, looking at the devastation.

  We’d driven off the Imperials, but the cost had been high. According to the data Gwen had gathered, we’d lost half of Killer’s fighters and plenty of regular crew as well.

  Worse, the ship itself was in shambles. She could be repaired, I supposed, but it would take time.

  Shaw summoned me to the command deck about an hour later. I welcomed the opportunity to take a break. We’d all been working to sort out the mess on the hangar deck, which still didn’t have artificial gravity or life support. The big bay doors were hanging open to space, and fighters straggled in now and then to land.

  Those doors made me nervous. I wasn’t used to working out in the open with the yawning expanse of space looking over my shoulder. It was dark out there, and I felt like another phase-ship could pop up and nail us at any moment.

  Crossing the hangar deck in clanking magnetic boots, I reached the elevators and rode them up to the command level. I’d only been up here once or twice, and each time it had been to receive a reprimand.

  This time was different. Shaw beckoned me to enter his office and sit down.

  “Wasn’t this Commander Tand’s office a few hours ago?” I asked him.

  “That’s right. As his second, I moved up a notch. Your action today helped cinch that gain.”

  I looked at him thoughtfully. I wasn’t sure if he was grateful or viewing me as a possible threat. With these Kher officers it could go either way.

  After eyeing me coldly for a time, he smiled. “You helped me out, so I’m going to offer you a temporary alliance.”

  Blinking, I didn’t respond. I didn’t know where this was going.

  “No answer, eh?” he asked, leaning back. He nodded. “I knew you were a cagey man. A primate, through and through. You worry me, Blake. Your kind tends to make it to the top all too often. But I’m warning you, if you think you can plant a blade—”

  “Stop worrying,” I told him. “I’m new here. All I did was fight to keep Killer in one piece. How else were any of us going to survive?”

  He nodded slowly. “That’s true. But you have to understand that in the Rebel Fleet most Kher would rather not be the first ones to take a huge risk. They tend to hang back in battle.”

  “Not Ra-tikh,” I said.

  “No, his kind are different. Cats have their own sense of honor. It’s more important to them than survival, I think. They’d rather die than be shown up by a rival. It’s unfortunate, but they tend to get themselves killed frequently by dueling for petty glory.”

  “You mentioned an alliance?” I asked.

  “Yes. Here’s the deal: I’ll put you on the fast-track to becoming an ensign. All I need is for you to keep delivering me victories in space.”

  I almost laughed, but I managed to control myself. This guy really thought I was a chump. But then again, maybe such a ham-handed offer would work on most Kher. Maybe he really expected it to work on me.

  “I don’t know,” I said, as if I was seriously considering his offer. “You’re telling me to take action now for a promise of action on your part later. But I’ve already helped you. What are you going to do for me right now?”

  A low growl rumbled out of his throat. “Are you refusing to accept my generous offer?”

  “I’m asking for details, that’s all.”

  He looked annoyed, and I pretended I couldn’t care less what he said next. That was easy to do, since I wasn’t really seeking a promotion.

  “All right,” he growled. “I’m making you an ensign, right now. You’re getting a silver line. But you owe me. You haven’t accumulated enough status points to earn this on your own. I’ll have to put all my weight behind it because you’re so junior.”

  “Did any other fighter pilots knock out an enemy vessel?”

  “No,” he admitted.

  I shrugged. “Well then, you’ve got no one else to reward, and plenty of dead crews to replace. I accept your offer, Lieutenant.”

  “Excellent. Now, let me show you something of the bigger picture, Ensign.”

  He caused the walls of his office to light up. They all could function as one big screen if you wanted them to. A blackness closed over us, broken up by pinpoints of bright light. Near at hand were the local planets.

  “Red dwarfs like this local star are the most common type in this region,” he said. “We were coming here to pick up another fighter crew made up of fresh recruits, like yours.”

  He zoomed in as he spoke, choosing a small patch of the back wall. His fingers spread, and the image magnified sickeningly. I could tell this was a perception system, working like the way my sym-link operated aboard Hammerhead, only better. The image was more precise, and the range seemed to be greater.

  He zoomed in toward the second planet from the central sun, a cool lump of gray rock that circled the glowing ember. I watched as he penetrated the clouds, then sailed over the landscape beneath.

  All around us, the walls of the office lit up with a rusty orange light. The terrain of the planet wrapped completely around the room. It was like standing inside of a globe with squared-off corners.

  We saw the world from the perspective of the clouds. There were pockmarks in the terrain below us. I stared at them, knowing instantly what I was seeing.

  “Cities?” I said. “The Imperials wiped out this world?”

  “They did. There were few survivors, mostly from the rural regions. The enemy must have done this recently, because we didn’t get a warning from our probes. Instead, when we arrived to gather recruits, we were ambushed.”

  I stared at the land. It looked cratered. I could see lines connecting the craters.

  “Are those roads?”

  “Yes. Broad highways and waterways.”

  “Why are the cities sunken in, rather than burnt?”

  “That’s a signature effect of gravity bombs,” he said soberly. “They momentarily increase the localized gravitational pull of a region. That crushes a city into itself, destroying everything. All of a sudden, you find yourself weighing ten times more than you weighed a moment before. Then the buildings collapse and crush what’s left of you.”

  It sounded like a grim way to die, but then, I couldn’t think of a pleasant path to death right then.

  “How many people?” I asked.

  “We don’t take a regular census,” he said, “but estimates put the total at three billion Kher lost. We’re picking up a few crews now, hopefully they’ll be eager to fight when they finish their training.”

  He looked up and caught my horrified expression as I studied the walls of his office.

  “They weren’t primates,” he said, “if that’s any consolation.”

  It wasn’t. All I could think of was potentially seeing Earth’s cities pulverized in this fashion. Rome, Tokyo, New York—all turned into instant graveyards sprinkled over the planet.

  We talked quietly for a time about the battle and the aftermath. He gave me a short lecture on phase-ships that was mostly full of information I already knew.

  Then, at last, Shaw grunted and tapped in my new rank. The insignia on my shoulder transformed in shape and color. I now wore silver lines, rather than gold points, on my epaulets.

  Just like that, I was an ensign, second class.

  When I got back to my crew, they were astonished to see my new rank insignia.

  “I thought for sure they were going to lock you up for risking valuable hardware,” Samson said. “That’s how things tend to go around here.”

  I shook my head. “Not today. They lost a lot of people. Nearly half the carrier’s complement died.”

  “One phase-ship did so much damage?” Dr. Chang asked. “It’s a wonder the enemy builds anything else.”

  “I don’t know how difficult those ships are to produce,” I said, “but this one had a hard time escaping. I sus
pect they are weak and slow. Only their stealth makes them effective.”

  “It’s enough,” Gwen said. “One punch almost took out Killer.”

  “Shaw told me that this was an unusual battle,” I continued. “Our carriers weren’t protected by screening ships because our brass didn’t think we’d run into the enemy yet. Normally, the phase-ships wouldn’t be able to ambush us like that.”

  “They must have had inside information,” Gwen said suspiciously. “How else would they know exactly where and when we would jump into this system and be lying in wait for us?”

  Her idea wasn’t too far-fetched, but I simply didn’t know enough about this war and the technology on both sides to guess if she was right or not.

  “Let the commanders figure it out,” I said. “Shaw said we were to shove all the fragments that could be recycled into the refabrication vents. The rest of it goes out the bay doors. Then they’ll shut the hangar up again.”

  “Next time it opens,” Samson said, looking at deep space warily, “I hope we’ll be receiving a complete squadron.”

  I reflected how quickly we were taking on the Rebel cause for our own. It only made sense now that we had a more complete picture of the situation around our home star.

  Earth was only one tiny planet among millions. We’d built a relatively advanced civilization, but there were plenty more in the cosmos where that came from. What mattered was the level of threat Earth faced.

  All my life, I’d wondered about the stars and who might live out there among them. But I’d never thought it likely I’d learn the truth.

  I’d always envisioned a visitation to Earth as hopeful and positive. I’d imagined aliens that were benevolent and friendly, perhaps arriving with solutions for humanity’s ills. I’d never thought they’d come as the engine of our destruction.

  But the truth was a harsh surprise. We’d met up with a vast empire facing another, even bigger, empire with both locked in mortal combat. They’d pressed a few of us into service, but no one actually expected us to do much.

  The important detail was that if the Rebel Fleet failed to stop the Imperials, that could spell the end for Earth. All those beings known as “humans” could cease to exist. Once all these facts had become clear to me and my crew, we’d turned our attention to winning this war—or at least fighting it as best we could.

  At long last, the hangar doors shut, and we were allowed to rest. We slept like the dead, circled around our fighter.

  Our pod had been destroyed. Most of the bedding and other personal articles—such as there were on this warship—had also been lost or gone into the recycling chutes to produce more necessary items.

  Down under the decking, I could feel the thrum of the recyclers running all night. At least they hadn’t been knocked out. They operated somewhat like three-dimensional printers back on Earth. Taking in a variety of finely ground pellets, they were able to spit out finished parts to re-outfit much of the ship and her fighters. Only our fellow pilots who’d perished could not be replaced so directly—even though their bodies had been fed into the recyclers as well.

  It was the middle of the night shift when we were attacked again, and again taken completely by surprise during our exhausted sleep.

  The attack didn’t come from space this time, however. It came from an unexpected quarter—our fellow shipmates.

  Mia was the only one to call out a warning. Her keener senses must have caught a stealthy sound. Whatever the case, I heard her cry out and opened my bleary eyes.

  Hunched figures with bony triangular heads and powerful arms loomed over us. On a collective signal, they lifted their clubs and slammed them down.

  My crewmen grunted in pain. Ribs snapped, skulls thudded, as my people were knocked senseless.

  The Terrapinians, those heartless, gray-green bastards, had decided to ambush us in our sleep.

  =26=

  Brawling on the decks was allowed—even commonplace—but both sides were usually aware of what was coming. Such combats normally started in the form of an honest duel between chiefs, or a spat over a shared female.

  This time was different. The turtles had seen an opportunity to get some status points by ambushing us, the heroes of the ship. If they could take us out in personal combat, they could demonstrate their superiority without having to risk death by fighting Imperials. But while we were asleep? Leave it to a primitive reptilian to exploit a sleazy short-cut to improve their stature.

  There was no time to think, only to react. Dr. Chang barely got his arms up before he was brained and put out of the fight. Samson fared better, sweeping the legs out from under the turtle that attacked him and grappling with him on the deck.

  Mia fought like the little demon she was. She was always alert, and she never seemed to awaken groggy—even after a deep sleep. She sprang up, dodging a slow-moving club, and sprang upon her attacker’s head.

  Gwen lay on her back, screeching and dodging the club that descended to smash her. It sparked on the deck plates, then was hoisted up high again for another swing.

  I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t help any of them as I had my own problems.

  The boss turtle had chosen to take me on. He stood a head taller than the rest, and he’d clearly decided to make it personal in my case.

  Without saying anything, he stooped and smashed the deck near my right shoulder. I’d barely slid out of the way in time.

  Trying to jump up, I found a massive round foot sweeping down and pressing me onto my back. A tremendous weight crushed my ribs. I could hardly gasp for breath.

  He lifted his club with both of his powerful arms. His nightmarish face regarded me, his expression was singularly determined and never-changing. The oil-drop eyes stared down, and they were merciless.

  Just then a large ball of flying fur slammed into the Terrapinian’s back. The monster staggered, but he didn’t fall. A growling sound rose up behind him, and he dropped his club, which came clanging down next to me.

  The turtle reached back over his shoulders to grasp the hairy thing that was now riding him. Knowing this distraction was the only break I was going to get, I levered his huge flat foot off my ribs with both hands.

  The unsuspecting monster stumbled and fell. The furry thing continued to savage him with fangs and ripping claws. Wheezing, I stood and snatched up the turtle leader’s fallen club. Then I set to work on that big head of his.

  The oil-drop eyes stared up at me in hate as I struck that skull again and again. It took a long time, but the light finally went out of them, and his body went slack.

  “Thanks Ra-tikh,” I said to the fur-bag that perched on the turtle’s chest.

  “No need,” he said, getting up and beginning to smooth his disheveled coat. “Their attack was dishonorable. It was like the work of a primate or a lemur. I hate these turtles. They’re even worse than you monkeys.”

  His rude comments couldn’t derail my good mood. I laughed, causing sharp pains to jolt through my chest.

  All around us, the fight had ended. Ra-tikh’s crew had come to help, and together our crews had driven off or beaten down the turtles. Once they’d seen their leader fall, the fight had gone out of the rest.

  There were no hugs or congratulations with the cat-crew that had saved us, however. They seemed almost embarrassed to have interfered.

  Except for Dalton—he came to me and shook my hand.

  “You owe me one, Blake,” he said, flashing me his crooked teeth.

  I smiled back. “For once, I agree.”

  The groups separated, dragging away the injured. No one had died, but Dr. Chang didn’t regain consciousness for several hours. Fortunately, the officers sent a medical drone to tend to him.

  Shaw appeared later and looked over the scene.

  “A shame,” he said.

  “What?” I responded. “That the turtles chose such an evil moment to turn traitor?”

  He looked at me in bafflement. “No. Not at all. Their attack was well-executed a
nd within the bounds of ship’s regulations. No disruptors were used. We weren’t in combat with any Imperials, and a full shift has passed since the last battle ended. In addition, none of you were injured prior to the encounter, so—”

  I put up my hand. “I know the rulebook,” I said. “It just seems crazy to me. Why do you allow us to fight each other instead of the enemy?”

  He stared at me coldly. “That’s what an Imperial would say—that no one should be allowed to prove they’re better than their superiors. We’ve rejected the Imperial way of thinking! They’re absolute and strict in their hierarchies. A pawn born to a low-caste Kher will never ascend to—”

  “Okay,” I said, throwing up my hands, “I give up on the politics. You guys have your customs, and we’ll follow them as best we can. What I want to know is what you meant by saying this incident was a shame?”

  “Oh… well, I meant it’s unfortunate that there was no clear winner. Each side took out one enemy. You ended up doing better, but since Ra-tikh interfered, any points gained after his interference were negated.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re still keeping track of points! I thought we’d already proven ourselves—that the fights between the different crews were over and settled. But here you are, talking about gaining status through our pain!”

  “Of course. As all the combatants involved in this particular skirmish were under my command, a decisive win would have given me half the points gained by the winning crew.”

  Shaking my head, I limped away from him. Sometimes, the Kher were too much for me, and that went for both the Rebels as well as the Imperials. The Rebels loved freedom and individuality. They’d taken these traits to an extreme in my opinion—but no one was interested in my opinions. At best, my ideas concerning mutual cooperation for the greater good were seen as subversive and weak aboard this ship.

  When our next shift started, we were all wary, sore and tired. On top of that, my crew was angry.