“She picked up on the awareness of the Guadalcanal rather than on the ship itself.” Freya shook her head. “I never considered that.”
“Hell, I didn’t understand how she found you until she explained it to me,” Colm soothed. “But then, I was never much for that esoteric stuff. Some folderol about ship’s scanners and humanoid perception…” He settled his gaze on Freya. “So, you’re taking this planet?”
“We’re responding to a distress call from its citizens,” Freya answered evenly.
Rick was careful not to use his abilities on friends and especially not his wife but that didn’t extend to situations like this. The meeting was too important and he knew she was about to ask him to contribute to the conversation. He’d spent time down there, after all.
“They indicated the station was being menaced by raiders.” He explained. “The citizens can’t clear them out because the elevator is too easy to secure from the top. Any troops they send up to deal with the raiders would be easy targets when the capsule opens. That elevator is their lifeline and they don’t have the Republic to call upon for help.”
Colm nodded. “This world was a bit of a surprise to us,” he admitted. “We’ve no records of it in the convention lists so I doubt the Republic is aware of it, at least officially...”
“That’s how we see it as well,” Freya agreed. “So let’s hit the table, Commander.” She stood and headed for the same door he’d entered through, leading them to a central conference area.
Through the glass on the other side of the large room, they could see two Dactari arguing. One, dressed in Republic uniform, was shaking his head while the other, in a battered EVA suit, was waving his arms and shouting.
The uniformed officer saw the Alliance officers taking their seats at the table, shrugged, and headed for the door. After a moment of stunned hesitation, the suited Dactari let out a deep breath and followed.
As they took their seats, a silver sphere rose from the center of the table. “Welcome aboard the Firm Resolve,” the sphere greeted them. “My name is Aliekna.”
“Ummm…” Rick looked away from the sphere to where Colm sat. “So that sphere is…”
“Not actually her.” Colm laughed. “In earlier mediations, Aliekna spoke directly to participant’s minds but it made them nervous that she might be reading their thoughts and favoring one side over the other.” He nodded at the sphere. “Now she speaks to everyone in the room by causing this sphere to vibrate. Her true form is in stasis.”
“Hello, Aliekna. My name is Freya Augustdottir.”
“And my name is Rick Carrolson.”
“They have two representatives,” the suited Dactari complained.
“They’re Midgaard,” the uniformed Dactari explained in tones one would use with a child who kept repeating the same questions. “If they rule as a couple, they represent their interests as a couple.”
Colm grinned as he gestured to the uniformed officer. “This reprobate is Krillna Quo and don’t let his size fool you – he can put away a startling amount of alcohol.”
“You guys drink with each other?” Rick had been raised to believe the Dactari had wiped out the fleet and finally taken Earth. He knew now that it wasn’t true but the idea of Humans and Dactari getting drunk together…
“Of course,” Colm replied without hesitation. “Drinking with friends is all well and good but drinking with your enemy is one of the best ways to get to know him.”
“There’s truth in your old Earth saying,” Krillna added. “Booze makes a good truth serum.”
Colm rolled his eyes. “In vino veritas,” he told the Dactari. “You’re good fighters but you’re just shite when it comes to phrases.” He looked back to Freya and Rick. “In their culture, it’s more about creating the image, so they go to great lengths to come up with clever new ways to phrase it.”
“I’d say he did a decent job of at least capturing the meaning,” Rick offered.
“Thank you,” Krillna exclaimed in a dramatic, long suffering tone. “I knew that blathering Scotsman was just hauling on my foot.”
Rick squinted at him. “Okay, now you’ve lost me.”
“Pulling your leg,” Colm insisted to Krillna. “I keep telling you not to do that with idioms. Idioms come from ancient phrases. The original explanation is too obscure, so your clever little word pictures will make no sense to us.”
Rick easily resisted the urge to look over at the suited Dactari. The Humans of 3428 learn in early childhood not to react overtly to foreknowledge of an opponent’s actions. Pre-cognitive ability becomes useless if you allow your reactions to pre-empt events. Looking at the Dactari in reaction to his pending outburst could easily distract him, causing him to take an unexpected tangent.
And Rick was looking forward to the approaching exchange of words.
“Can we all stop this foolishness and get to the matter at hand?” The suited Dactari demanded. “I’ve got Midgaard warriors sitting in the shuttle bays of three ships and I’d like to arrange for their immediate removal.”
“Oh, dear me,” Colm exclaimed mildly. He turned an inquiring gaze to Krillna. “Haven’t you briefed your man, here?”
Krillna threw his hands and tail up in exasperation. “He won’t listen to me – the damned pirate,” he complained. “All he does is make demands. Why don’t you give it a shot?”
Colm leaned forward. “Right, see here, Mr. umm…”
“Khol,” he grunted, “Renma Khol.”
“Yes, well, Mr. Khol, Aliekna is bound by the articles of the Yaetho’kae Convention.” He spread his hands. “So you see the snag, of course?”
“I certainly don’t,” Khol retorted.
“Well, as every officer on both sides knows,” Colm continued, “Aliekna can bring a halt to all ship-to-ship activities while she arbitrates but she has no ability to restrict the activities of tactical personnel, which means they are immune from the provisions of Article 2.”
“What?”
“It means,” Krillna explained with indecent relish, “those Midgaard are not sitting quietly in your hangar bays. They’re swarming around your three ships, shooting your pirate crew and lopping off arms and heads with their blades.”
“WHAT!” He shot up out of his seat.
“Now, now, dear fellow,” Colm soothed. "Not to worry – it’s all very correct and legal…”
“You have to send me back, right now!”
“By now,” Freya advised, “our forces have taken your cruiser. The first prizemasters were sent aboard with double crews. All three of your cruisers will be taking our orders when hostilities resume.”
Khol dropped into his seat, mouth hanging open.
“Right!” Colm exclaimed cheerily. “It seems we’ve managed to sort that out. There’s just the matter of resumption to clarify.” He looked to Freya and Rick. “I assume you both vote for an end to arbitration and a return to the festivities?”
“We do,” Freya replied.
“Very good.” He turned to Krillna. “Not a lot of choices for your fellow, I’m afraid.”
“The hells there isn’t,” Khol exclaimed. “I don’t agree to a resumption of hostilities.”
Krillna shook his head. “The convention only applies to Republic and Alliance forces. You’re neither. And furthermore, this isn’t a scheduled planet. It’s not listed in the convention’s numerous addenda.”
“You’re just going to let us fight an entire Alliance carrier group with four corvettes?”
“We can offer refugee status,” Krillna offered. “We can take your crews aboard and find someplace safe to drop you off.”
“I won’t give up my ships!”
Freya drew her lips back. “Oh, I think you will – one way or another. It’s just a question of whether you and your crews survive the process.”
It was galling for Khol. He was probably a simple raider captain drawn to the small fleet by the promise of some quick company cash. Just a few days escorting a mercenary
troopship and he’d be able to keep his crew from mutiny for another month or so.
The arrival of the carrier group had wiped out the command ship, putting the remaining seven ships under his command. Now he’d lost three to a surprise attack and boarding action and he was loosing the other four at a god-sdamned boardroom table.
His fists were clenched, knuckles white. “I request refugee status.”
Krillna leaned forward, turning to the right to get a better look at Khol’s face. “For your crews as well, I presume?”
There was a long pause – long enough to be indelicate.
“Yes.”
Another Time
Counterweight station
“… and if you think otherwise…” Graadt trailed off, releasing his grip on his sidearm. He looked around the elevator room.
The Dactari in charge of the recently arrived troops had been decidedly reluctant to send a storming party down on the elevator. It was to be expected from mercenaries. At heart, they were businessmen, not warriors. They had no interest in fighting their way out of a confined elevator pod against determined resistance. The cost:benefit ratio didn’t favor such an endeavor.
Be that as it may, disappearing into thin air was just rude.
Kaans grunted in surprise. “You guys saw that too, right?”
“We know the Firm Resolve is here,” Graadt thought out loud, “which is why those mercenaries stopped coming aboard the station.”
“Those idiots would never last, not against Midgaard,” Nid declared confidently. “I’d bet they ditched.”
“All of ‘em?” Kaans frowned at Nid. “Even the ships the Midgaard haven’t put boarding parties on?”
“You heard them squawking before everything went dead.” Graadt tapped his earpiece. “Those Mark III’s came out of nowhere and they probably already have the next pitch laid in. Five heartbeats after this arbitration ends, they’ll be boarding three more ships. No chance they can run before then. It’ll take at least fifteen beats to spool up their mains.”
“That means they’ll be boarding this station very soon,” Nid warned.
Graadt nodded over at the cargo doors.
Located in the elevator room, the cargo doors allowed easier loading for cargoes of ore. Without them, bulk goods would have to be dragged through the station to one of the boarding wings. The mercenaries had been coming in through those cargo doors.
They approached door seventeen. Nid pressed the controls to open the heavy portal and, through a blue haze, they could see the mercenary fleet. The three heavy cruisers had the Alliance Mark III Hussars pressed up against them while the four corvettes were, for the moment, unmolested.
And almost certainly empty.
“The closest one,” Graadt decided.
“What about the target?” Nid grabbed Graadt’s shoulder.
“Another time.” Graadt sighed. “Another place.”
“But we could sabotage the elevator, cut the tether…”
“No,” Graadt answered firmly. “I won’t starve millions to slow down one enemy.” He looked his friend in the eye.
Nid looked away. “You’re right,” he admitted. “That was unworthy.”
“Well then,” Kaans said matter of factly, “the closest one. I can probably give you a near overload on the pitch drives – take me a few heartbeats. Might buy the time we need to spool up the mains.”
Graadt smiled. “Might, huh? Well, if you get it wrong, it will at least be spectacular!”
“Better than getting hit by an ore carrier.” Kaans activated his helmet and lined up with the corvette. “Let’s cast the dice.”
Consolidation
The Ormurin, near the counterwieght
“Controls are responding,” the helmsman announced. “Pitching to secondary target in…”
“Belay!” Rick shouted, racing over from the comms station. “Cancel that maneuver!”
Every eye was on him now but he simply pointed to the tactical holo in the middle of the bridge. Their target suddenly lurched ahead, streaking past the moon.
“Lay in a pursuit course…” Freya began but caught Rick’s warning headshake. “Belay that as well,” she snapped.
The corvette shimmered out of existence.
“Whoever that was,” Rick explained, “they goosed their pitch drive to get away from us, using the time to get their mains online. That kind of lateral shear stress would have torn us in half.”
“Risky,” Freya muttered.
Rick took a calming breath. His vision had been horrifying. It was hard to believe she was still standing there in front of him. “Deadly for us, whether it worked for them or not.” He shuddered. “If it failed and they really overloaded, the blast would have destroyed us both completely.”
He didn’t add that the pitch field from the Ormurin would have nudged the gamble from risk to certainty. The additional energy would have completed the overload, killing everyone.
“Shall we pitch to the last corvette?” The helmsman looked back at Rick.
Rick looked to Freya. She smiled, tilting her head to the helmsman.
Rick nodded. “No issues there. Pitch us over.”
He began to tumble backwards, catching a stanchion just in time.
Another shock ran through the ship but far less jarring this time, seeing as they were coming alongside a vessel that wasn’t firing on them.
“Team away,” the helmsman announced.
“Hail Orbital Control,” she ordered.
“Huh!” The comms officer dragged a channel to the main display. “Somebody’s still at his post in there. There’s a channel pinging us.”
Freya activated the channel. “Orbital Control, this is the Ormurin requesting a docking port, over.”
“Orbital Control, welcome, Ormurin,” a voice responded enthusiastically. “You can take cargo one. C’Al will be glad to to have some reinforcements!”
A chuckle. “You’re his man in Orbital Control, I take it?”
“I am.” A pause. “I’m also the only man in Orbital Control right now. A lot of folks are crammed into whatever ships we currently have docked. The control room emptied right after you arrived and blew up that troopship.”
Freya glanced over at Rick. “We saw no ships fleeing the area.”
“That’s because I’ve locked them all down,” the voice replied. “Didn’t think you’d want your battle space cluttered up with civilian ships.”
“I’m starting to like this guy,” Freya said loud enough for the orbital controller to hear. “Keep them locked down for now,” she told him. “We’ll start by sweeping the station, so the fewer civilians in the way, the better.”
“No problem.” The controller hesitated. “Is it true you’re going to take over here?”
“It’s not that simple,” Freya answered. There was a very good chance this young man was relaying the conversation to the rebels below, so now was a good time to start clarifying the situation.
“We don’t rule planets,” she continued. “We operate under the traditional Oaxian model. You have to rule yourselves. You elect your own governments, operate your own justice system and collect your own taxes. In return for the percentage that would otherwise go to the Republic, we guard your world against any outside influence.”
“So, if the Republic sends a fleet to punish us?”
Freya grinned at that. It almost sounded as though he was reading from a list of prepared questions. The resistance was almost certainly listening. “Then we take from them whatever ships we like and destroy the rest.”
She walked into the central holo projection and selected one of her original ships. “Orbital Control, please calculate the closest docking port for the Chimera and vector her in as well.”
The Chimera carried the majority of the small fleet’s shock troops.
It was time to get to work.
Changing the Guard
Tsekoh, Capital of Chaco Benthic
“Everybody stay calm,” Cal
yelled, his hands held up, palms facing the assembled insurgents. He stood on the arrivals platform with his back to the elevator carrousel.
A light breeze flowed past him, growing to a strong wind, the precious oxygen invigorating his mind. That maintenance worker should be reaching the baffles soon, if he hadn’t been cut in half by one of the diverters.
Cal pushed the thought aside. It was important, certainly, but he had to deal with the immediate problem. He was about to introduce Midgaard warriors to a mob of agitated Republic citizens. Armed citizens.
“Weapons down, everybody!” It would only take one hothead with an itchy trigger finger to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. He saw one young Krorian with a magister’s weapon defiantly hoisted to his shoulder and he pointed at him.
The crowd turned to see what he was indicating and the young firebrand was shouted down. Someone even took his weapon, giving him a club in exchange. They were barely coming to grips with the idea of their fearless leader being an Alliance agent and now they were being asked to welcome their most feared enemy as liberators.
To call it a tense situation might just be an understatement.
The wind peaked and the elevator suddenly dropped into view, slowing rapidly as it slid into the carrousel. The doors opened and a young Tauhentan leapt out, waving frantically at the warriors inside. “Hurry, folks,” he called out. “The next pod is heartbeats behind us.”
Close to sixty Midgaard flowed out onto the ramp, Freya and Rick at their front.
“Make a hole!” the young Tauhentan yelled, pushing his way to the control console and slapping a large red button. The carrousel began to rotate, moving the empty pod out of the way even as a breeze announced the approach of the next pod.
“Cal!” Freya gave him a friendly smile. “You remember Rick, of course.”
“I do, but he was a lot farther down on his luck the last time he arrived on that elevator.” Cal exchanged Imperial handshakes with them. “Though he has a talent for making his own luck. Did he tell you about the casino where I first…”
Counterweight Page 24
