Archangel One

by Evan Currie

  “All beam stations are still firing?” he asked.

  “Yes Fleet Commander, but there is something odd about that too,” the same technician said, shaking his head as he bent over the console and stared at the data. “I . . . Fleet Commander, I believe we have their range and have been striking the target dead-on.”

  Jesan closed his eyes. “Then why are they still intact?”

  Archangel One

  Tyke flinched as the augmented display wrapped around him flashed with an aurora of light and crackling power that would have taken his breath away in the proverbial sense if he weren’t afraid it was going to do so in the literal.

  “I wish they’d stop that!” he growled, becoming more irritated than scared.

  “The beams are being pushed aside by the gravity crest,” Milla said. “Even what little makes it through has been attenuated enough to render the attack less than effective. We should be safe from the Imperial Fleet so long as we can maintain this formation.”

  “Pretty effective,” Steph said, surprised.

  He’d been aware that beams, and other weapons, were powerfully affected by the space-warping that larger vessels used for propulsion, but this was the first time they’d actually been able to bend lasers away from the target.

  “Unfortunately,” Milla spoke up, “this defense will only work while fleeing the enemy.”

  “Or decelerating into engagement range,” Steph corrected. “This is a strong potential weapon, Milla, if we can make it work in a tactical scenario. We’ll train on it. For now, however, how long until we’re in the clear?”

  “Shortly,” Milla responded over the network. “Distance to FTL transit is three light-minutes for the Archangels. I would prefer at least five for the Dutchman, however.”

  “Five should be fine,” Steph said. “Set your courses for our planetoid outside the Aerin Kingdom. We’ll split up to scramble our direction and meet up there once we’re certain we’re in the clear. Archangel One and Two, I’ll need your eyes.”

  “Roger,” Tyke said. “With you to the end of the line, boss.”

  “Just don’t make it seem too close next time,” Noire countered.

  “No promises.” Steph grinned. “Don’t you know, it’s a pirate’s life!”

  Epilogue

  Aerin Star Kingdom Capital World

  Seamus Gordon stood with hands clasped in front of him as he supervised the loading of the second half of the squadron’s payment for services rendered. The Star Kingdom had made good on their end of the bargain with what was, by all accounts, a king’s ransom in naturally formed quantum computing cores.

  He wasn’t really sure what they were, but every bit of information he’d been able to gather confirmed that the crystals in the crates were valuable enough to warrant starting a war.

  Or helping end one—for the time being, at least.

  Gordon didn’t give a damn about the cores. He was aware he might change his tune on that, but for the moment the only true value they had to him was the credit they established for the squadron legend.

  Demanding a high price for their help made Stephanos’ little privateer squadron more respectable in the eyes of the locals, and that had real value of its own. If the crystals were actually worth the effort, well, that would be a bonus. He had no doubt that the Confederation and the Priminae, as well as the Block he supposed (not that he particularly cared about them), would be highly interested in what passed for resources out in this sector of the galaxy.

  He looked over to where the commander was speaking with their contact, Auran, now captain of the Gael, smiling as he considered the new assignment he’d wrangled himself.

  It’s good to be out in the field again, and this is the farthest in the field anyone has ever been.

  “Congratulations on your promotion,” Steph said to the Kingdom’s captain while they allowed others to handle the exchange of payment.

  He had been pleased that the Kingdom kept up their end of the bargain with minimal hassles. He had half expected them to try to pull a fast one. Lord knew he’d been the victim of that in the past, and then he hadn’t been operating as an “independent” contractor.

  “Thank you, Captain Teach,” Auran said, his use of the name and rank forcing Steph to bury a grin. “Without your help, the events of the past few days would have turned out far differently.”

  “It was a pleasure, even if your politicians tried to steal my destroyer,” Steph said with a bit of a smirk.

  “Not so much steal, Captain, they merely questioned whether the rights of capture were included in our agreement,” Auran corrected him with a glint in his eye.

  “Potato, potahto,” Steph said.

  “Pardon? I am afraid I do not understand?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I have been instructed to inquire as to whether your services will be available in the future,” Auran said, the humor draining from him.

  Steph understood why a career military man wouldn’t be happy asking a question like that, so he didn’t let it bother him too much. They’d been dancing around this since he and his squadron had reappeared in Star Kingdom space with their captured destroyer in tow.

  Negotiations had been such that he was fairly sure the inquiry was coming and had factored that expectation into things. Some of the former crew of the newly christened Flying Dutchman had opted, perhaps surprisingly, to continue serving with the pirates who’d taken the ship.

  Frankly, he thought that was insane, but when the first had asked for permission to serve with him, Steph allowed it and unknowingly opened the floodgates. In retrospect, perhaps he should have realized that would happen and refused, but such a stance would have been out of character for the role he’d chosen. He had no desire to press-gang anyone into service, as some pirates had historically, but he didn’t think it would look right to turn down volunteers.

  Establishing clear lines would be essential in defining the recruits from his core force, but that would be simple enough. His people were soldiers, and they knew what flag they truly flew under. The rest? Well, they would be his as well, and he would treat them as such in every way—every way save one.

  There was zero chance that any of them would ever be permitted to gain access to anything that even hinted at the squadron’s true allegiance. Infiltrators were not just a possibility, going forward; Steph was well aware that they would become a certainty at some point. A mercenary group was something that local governments, to say nothing of the Empire itself, would want to keep tabs on, particularly a successful mercenary group.

  Which works in our favor, as long as we keep them all in the dark.

  The legend they were building needed to be bulletproof, able to survive any scrutiny. So he would make certain that was exactly what it was.

  As for the rest of the captured or rescued crews, he’d arranged for repatriation through the Star Kingdom. Apparently, such events happened with some regularity, so a system was in place to facilitate the exchange of crews taken after battles.

  I don’t know if that’s depressing or comforting. But at least they don’t make a habit of taking no prisoners the way the Empire does.

  “We will be available, depending on the case and prior commitments,” Steph answered, “with the understanding that we have no interest in tangling with the Empire. I don’t know what they were up to, but an Imperial Fleet is out of our weight class.”

  “Not only yours,” Auran said with a heavy tone. “We do not know why, but the Empire has been raiding several of the larger polities in the region. Thankfully, I suppose, we here in the Kingdom have been considered beneath their notice this pass.”

  Steph nodded. He had a good idea what the Empire was doing. If he was right, the region was going to blow up with infighting in the very near future. Bad for local stability, but an excellent environment for a private contractor to make a reputation for himself.

  “Well, aside from that limitation, we’ll consider contracts wit
h the Kingdom going into the future,” Steph assured the captain.

  “Elements within the government will be grateful to hear that,” Auran confirmed. “And though I probably should not admit this, I am not as opposed to having your support on hand as I am supposed to be.”

  Steph chuckled. “I believe we will be able to work together well enough, Captain.”

  “And I, Captain.”

  NACS Odysseus, Outer Priminae Space

  “Coded signal, Commodore. Archangel tags,” the communications officer said. “Tight beam signal, sent from nearby.”

  Eric looked up. “Send it to my console. Don’t look for the source.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Eric tagged the compressed folder as it hit his system, running it through his personal decryption key, and opened it up.

  Most of the material he set aside, which would have to be examined in detail later. For the moment he was interested in the synopsis. That had been kept to a single page, written concisely in the manner he was used to from the war, complete with the little flourishes that Steph was prone to use.

  He smiled as he read, memories of good times and bad accompanying the experience.

  Well, it seems that Steph is getting into his new job, Eric thought, grinning as he finished. Gaia’s Revenge and the Flying Dutchman. Cute.

  He was struck by the fact that Steph had taken a prize ship, a decision that seemed a little reckless even for Steph, at least until he noted the last part of the report. One of the image files sent in the coded transmission was a complete core dump of the destroyer’s computer system. The intelligence there would be damn near invaluable, even if it was tangential to the true target of interest in the area. A ship might or might not have been worth the risk, but that computer core certainly was.

  Eric tagged all the files for immediate relay to the admiral and closed them down.

  For the moment, he had more on his plate than whatever Steph was up to.

  “Have we located any sign of the Imperial Fleet in this sector?”

  “Negative, sir.”

  “Alright, move on to the next one.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  Eric looked out into the depths of space beyond the ship, his thoughts on the mysterious opponent waiting for him out there in the black.

  This game has just gotten more interesting, and more complicated.

  Imperial Capital, World Garisk

  “Your Highness, you asked to be informed of former Lord Jesan’s progress?”

  Emilia Starsbane looked up. “Oh? Has he done something interesting? Or did he fail?”

  “Neither, exactly, Your Majesty.”

  The aide frowned, hesitating, which irritated the empress to no end.

  “Out with it, fool.”

  “Sorry, Your Majesty. The former lord . . . The fleet commander has reported an unknown contact within the so-called Free Stars.”

  Emilia stiffened, sucking in a breath. “The anomalies from the Priminae worlds?”

  “Apparently not, Your Majesty. Likely merely a new class of vessel, much smaller than even the normal destroyers that are common in the region,” the aide said. “Analysts suggest that the locals are likely growing more desperate for resources and have opted to build lighter, high-speed vessels to combat their fellows. They are quite fast and apparently a match for destroyers, but Jesan reports that they do not appear to have the power to handle even our cruisers, to say nothing of larger classes.”

  Emilia relaxed marginally, though she was still unhappy to hear of yet another new variable being added to what the Empire was dealing with.

  “Thank you for the report. You may go.”

  The aide left, leaving her standing in the center of her reception room.

  “What do you make of that, Father?”

  “It will require more study, Daughter,” he said as he walked in behind her. “But you know this.”

  “I know. I just . . .” She smiled wistfully. “I wish you were still here with me, Father.”

  “I am here always, child,” the figure behind her said, wavering in the light before fading away, leaving only his voice. “Together, we will make the galaxy pure. Never forget.”

  “I won’t,” she promised in a whisper to the empty air where the figure had been, her eyes sparkling with fervor. “I will cleanse it with fire, for you, Father.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Bestselling Canadian author Evan Currie has an imagination that knows no limits, and he uses his talent and passion for storytelling to take readers everywhere from ancient Rome to the dark expanses of space. Although he started out dabbling in careers such as computer science and the local lobster industry, Currie quickly determined that writing the kinds of stories he grew up loving was his true life’s calling. Beginning with the techno-thriller Thermals, Evan has expanded the universe within his mind with acclaimed series such as Warrior’s Wings, the Scourwind Legacy, the Hayden War Cycle, and Odyssey One. He delights in pushing the boundaries of technology and culture, exploring the ways in which these forces intertwine and could shape the future of humanity—both on Earth and among the stars.