by Dan Worth
She’s very perceptive, Isaacs thought. A little too perceptive.
‘Maybe, a little, yes.’
‘My Dad used to talk about it sometimes. He said that he thought that something lurked in the silent gulfs between systems. It was a feeling he got sometimes, like he was trespassing. He used to tell us stories, about friends of his who’d found things floating out there. Strange artefacts, dead ships… that sort of thing. He said that somewhere there were whole worlds full of silent, dead cities. You believe any of that?’
‘Well… stories get around. Tall tales have been around ever since the days of sailing ships. It’s possible though. We aren’t the first race to inhabit this part of the galaxy. Doubtless we won’t be the last either.’
‘Bit of a sobering thought to think that some alien race might be sifting through all our discarded crap, millions of years from now. I intend to be buried with a plaque clutched in my hands with the words ‘piss off’ written on it in fifty languages.’
Isaacs laughed.
‘I like the sound of that one. Shall we pay the bill? … What the?’
The sound of a warning klaxon suddenly started to cut through the interior of the station. Outside the café, people stopped in their tracks and looked as bewildered as Isaacs and Anita. A few seemed to realise what the sound signified and started to hurry along the street.
‘Warning,’ said the calm tones of the station commander over the public address system. ‘This station is now in a state of battle readiness. Hostile ships have entered local space. Station defences have been activated. We ask all aboard to proceed to the emergency bunkers. No vessel will be permitted to leave the station until the current situation has been resolved. Thank you for your co-operation.’
‘Fucking hell,’ said Anita. ‘We’d better find a shelter.’
‘Ah forget it,’ Isaacs replied. ‘I’d rather see what’s going on out there. The station’s heavily shielded and I doubt we’re being invaded. Probably just some local trouble. Come on, let’s find a screen and watch the action.’
There was a terminal in the rear of the café linked to the station network. By the time they found it, they were the only people left in the place, save for the owner, a large, stocky Latino, who seemed as unperturbed by the commotion as Isaacs did.
Isaacs deposited some credit in the machine and flicked through the menus until he found the views being streamed from the station’s publicly accessible external cameras. The views from each moved slowly as the station revolved. There was nothing to see except moving star-scapes and the fuzzy points of Beatty’s smaller moons. Finally Isaacs found the main hub mounted camera that pointed forward above Barstow’s central docking port. The rings and cloudscapes of Beatty and the mottled orb of the volcanic moon Rhyolite dominated the view. There was a sudden stutter of flashes from the centre of the picture, against the backdrop of Beatty’s outer ring.
‘You see that?’ said Anita, pointing at the screen.
‘Yep,’ said Isaacs. ‘Looks like heavy weapons fire.’
A second series of flashes erupted. This time from a number of points around the first set in a roughly globular pattern. Isaacs zoomed in on the image until a Navy frigate was clearly visible at the edge of Barstow’s traffic control zone, along with two transport vessels. The frigate was firing all guns at unseen attackers all around it. One of the transports was wallowing as a stream of vented gases spewed from its engineering section. Another, smaller vessel cut across the view at high speed, energies from the frigate’s defensive turrets washing off its shield in a blaze of light.
Isaacs panned the view out to get a better look at the attacking ships. They were smaller, nimble craft that danced and wove about the larger, lumbering vessels, taking care to remain at extreme weapons range so that the fire from the frigate’s defensive laser turrets was reduced in its effectiveness, leaving the attackers free to unleash torpedoes and missiles at the vulnerable transport ships. In vain, the ship’s gunners were also attempting to fire at the fleeting targets of the attacking ship with its heavier, yet more slowly tracking, armaments. A storm of heavy particle beams surrounded the warship, bright lances of fire that stabbed outwards for kilometres. Isaacs saw the gunners aboard the frigate get lucky, as one of the heavy beams intersected with the path of a sleek corvette, annihilating the aft section of the vessel and leaving the remains to spin wildly out of control spilling atmosphere and debris. He swore he saw figures tumbling from the wreck and shuddered. It didn’t seem to deter the others. A couple of fighter class craft slipped under the frigate’s shield and unleashed torpedoes directly into the vessel’s bridge section. Defensive fire eliminated one, but the other succeeded in hugging the contours of the warship and escaped over the stern unharmed.
‘Fucking hell,’ Anita muttered, as the frigate started to list. The fire from its decks was intermittent now. The suicidal attack by the two fighters must have knocked out vital systems. The attacking ships now turned their full attention to the transports.
‘Who the fuck are these guys?’ said Isaacs. ‘They must be out of their minds to fly like that.’
‘That’d be the Hidden Hand there, my friend.’ The voice came from the café’s owner, who had wandered over to peer at the screen over Isaacs’ shoulder. ‘See the logos on the ships, a black hand against a red sun?’
Sure enough, Isaacs caught a glimpse of such a device on the engine cowling of one of the craft as it sped across his view.
‘Yeah, those guys are some of the best pilots I ever saw,’ the man continued. ‘Pretty popular with most of the folks around here too, for a bunch of pirates.’
‘Oh, why’s that?’ Isaacs asked.
‘Well, they mostly avoid private vessels and tend to prey on corporate or government ships. Dunno whether they just got some sort of moral code or whether it’s just more profitable that way. Anyway, lots of people round here tend to like to see it when those bastards get it in the neck. Fucking corporates have been bleeding this system dry and they treat their employees like shit. Safety just isn’t a concern for them, you know? It cuts into their profits and working in those mines down on Rhyolite is fucking dangerous enough, man.’
‘So what’s the beef with the government?’
‘Government don’t do nothing, man. Nada. Apart from that, the military moved in here last year and started restricting landings on Rhyolite. You gotta have a permit to land and then only at certified places. Put a lot of independent operators out of business.’
There was a dazzling flash on screen. As they looked closer they saw that one of the transports’ reactors had gone critical. The remaining forward section of the ship tumbled forward on the shockwave of expanding plasma. Bodies were spilling from the interior of the hull, now opened to hard vacuum. They looked like soldiers in uniform. Many had had the presence of mind to don sealed combat armour designed for infantry space warfare which had protected them from the worst of the blast and now shielded them from the vacuum. Assembling in a small cloud they started firing back at their attackers whilst their less fortunate comrades choked, haemorrhaged and died around them.
The other transport was in trouble too. The EM pulse from the first ship going down seemed to have fried its systems. It drifted lazily toward the frigate which appeared to be righting itself from its slewing course.
‘Shit…’ Anita muttered and shook her head.
‘So what are the military doing down on the planet?’ said Isaacs.
‘Well, they say it’s to stop pirate attacks on mining settlements down there. But they keep sending ground troops down, which ain’t much use against spacecraft, as you can see. The rumour going around is that they found something down there that they wanna keep secret from everyone else.’
‘Like what?’
‘No idea, man. Probably some weird alien shit, who knows?’
The Hidden Hand vessels were among the cloud of suited figures now. Spacecraft weapons tore through the floating figures, the heavy beams and
ordnance turning the soldiers into little more than clouds of red mist and scorched body parts. Beweaponed hulls rammed into packs of frantically dodging figures at combat speed, rendering them into shattered human road kill.
‘Well whatever it is, it seems to have got these guys pretty riled up,’ Anita commented.
On the screen, other ships were now appearing. Space distorted as a Saturn class carrier and attendant flak cruisers along with wings of fighters riding the carrier’s warp wake jumped in on top of the battle. The Hidden Hand ships broke off their attack runs on the frigate and remaining transport and attempted to flee the barrage of fire and the nimble Daemon class fighters who now tried to bring them down.
Most of the pirate vessels fled the area in seemingly random directions and jumped. A few were not so lucky and were struck down by lancing anti-fighter beams or high velocity ordnance. One the flak cruisers jumped out again seemingly in pursuit.
The carrier and the other cruiser remained. Recovery and medical craft now launched from the massive vessel towards the stricken ships and the remains of the first transport. Isaacs zoomed in on the vessel and just made out its name stencilled along the side of the bow: the Chester W Nimitz.
The excitement over, the warning klaxon ceased to resound aboard Barstow station and people began to emerge from wherever they had huddled. Isaacs sat down opposite Anita.
‘I’m sorry you had to see that, kid,’ he said apologetically. ‘Guess my curiosity got the better of me. I should have realised.’
‘It’s alright, I’m not mad at you. It just brought it home to me that’s all.’
‘Yeah. I know. I’ve seen quite of space combat over the years, but that was pretty shocking.’ He looked down and realised that his hands were shaking slightly.
‘I can’t believe they did that,’ Anita said. ‘Those men, they just...’
‘Yeah I know. Each of those poor bastards probably had a family. Look, this system is a pretty rough place. I realise that it isn’t going to help if I say ‘I told you so’ but look at it this way: The business you’re going into; you are going to see people die in space sooner or later, whether it be an accident or in a fight. We sometimes forget just how dangerous it is out here. If something goes wrong on a ship and you’re in command you have to remain in control. I know it sounds insensitive, but seeing something like this might do you good in the long run, although it’s not much consolation for those guys out there, I know.’
‘Maybe,’ she sighed. ‘So you’ve seen some pretty bad shit over the years, huh?’
‘Once or twice, yes you could say that.’
‘Wanna talk about it?’
‘Not really, no. Sorry.’ He looked at her apologetically.
‘Oh. That’s okay,’ Anita replied in a small voice.
‘Besides. I think I’ve traumatised you enough for one day. Come on, let’s pay the bill and see if we can find a drink around here.’
They settled the bill with the café owner and followed his directions through the regular grid of the station interior’s streets to an area of bars that were marginally less seedy than the other ones scattered about the station. Choosing one that suited both their tastes they wandered in. The clientele were mostly human, though there was a smattering of other species. Isaacs succeeded in elbowing his way through the press of people at the bar and ordered them a couple of drinks over the noise of the music.
Returning to Anita, who had stood back from the throng, he handed her her drink and took a sip of his own. The beer was a bit flat, a regional brand from a farming world dozen light years distant, but it was the first he’d had for a few days, so what the hell.
‘How’s the drink?’ he said to her.
‘Hmm okay I guess. Not the greatest.’
‘Mine too. We can always move on after these, find somewhere else.’
‘Well there’s plenty of places around here.’
Isaacs looked around the bar thoughtfully. The screen high up in one corner was showing a news feed: the President again. A number of senators were calling for his impeachment. Well, thought Isaacs, the corrupt bastard probably had it coming. He had no time for politicians anymore. In his opinion this was further proof that the corporations really pulled the strings in the Commonwealth. They didn’t usually do it so directly though. Still, the contracts in the newly liberated systems were very lucrative. Presumably they had resorted to desperate measures.
He idly stuck his hand in his jacket pocket… and found something within: a slip of folded paper. Curious, he pulled it out and looked at it. He didn’t remember pocketing anything. He unfolded it. There was something hand written on one side, a series of numbers, and a symbol.
‘Hey,’ said Anita. ‘What’s that?’
‘Someone sent me a message, look.’
He showed her the paper.
‘Huh, numbers… shit, I recognise that symbol.’ She jabbed a forefinger at the paper where a crude silhouette of a hand had been scrawled in pen. ‘It’s the same one those ships were carrying. Where did you get this?’
‘I don’t know. I just found it in my pocket… wait a second. You remember those drunks we passed? One of them bumped into me… it must have been then. Shit, they must have planted this on me and I never knew.’
‘You think your wife’s in with those guys.’
‘Yeah I do. Wonderful, eh?’ He grimaced.
‘These numbers, they look like standard navigation co-ordinates.’
‘They certainly are. Somewhere in-system I’d say. Look there’s a time too. Eleven hundred standard.
‘Think they’re the location of a rendezvous?’
‘That would be the obvious conclusion. Yes.’
‘You’re going to go?’
‘Well, given that they’re probably watching us right now I think it’s probably a good idea if we play along. Going to the authorities or doing a runner might not be such a good idea if you catch my drift. Besides, I need to get Anna to change her mind. If she’s in with those Hidden Hand guys she’s gone too far and she’s in a lot of danger if you ask me.’
‘You think she’ll listen? You think they’ll even let her leave?’
‘Well there’s only one way to find out. Besides which, she owes me rather a lot of money.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
Isaacs looked straight at her. ‘Anita, you really don’t have to. This could be really dangerous. You saw how ruthless these guys can be. I really don’t think this will be the place for…’
‘A helpless little girl?’ she cut in. ‘Come off it. Besides, won’t you need someone to watch your back?’
‘Yes, but…’ he started to protest.
‘I told you, I can take care of myself.’
‘I think Anna may take a dislike to you. Given, you know...’
‘So, I’ll keep out of the way. She’ll never know I’m around. Besides, how long have you two been apart? She must have found someone else by now, yeah?’
‘Alright, alright,’ he gave in to her furious glare.
In truth he was now secretly planning to leave without her, sneak out of the hotel before she was awake, then try to contact her later when this was over, if she was still on the station and hadn’t left of her own accord. He’d leave her some money so she could get a ticket out of the system. Isaacs had grown to like Anita during their brief time together, and there was no way he could face letting her risk her life by getting into something she didn’t fully understand. He’d known of quite a few pirates who’d welcome the presence of a nice young woman for all the wrong reasons. Despite the fact that his wife appeared to have joined this Hidden Hand organisation that didn’t mean that all of its members would be quite so well disposed towards women. Nevertheless, it struck him as odd that she’d want to come, given her reaction to the battle she’d witnessed.
‘Alright. Well, I don’t know about you but I could use another drink,’ he said.
‘Nervous?’ she replied.
‘Thirst
y,’ he responded.
Chapter 15
The Churchill hung in the darkness on the outskirts of the Quralish system amidst the sparse, tumbling ice mountains of the Kuiper belt. Chen had ordered the ship to halt here whilst a security team was inserted into the Labyrinth aboard one of the carrier’s supply shuttles. She didn’t want to panic the residents of the agglomeration of habitats and modules. This was partly because she wanted to remain on good terms with the local Nahabe - a notably touchy species who might object strongly to a powerful warship arriving on their borders unannounced - and partly because she didn’t want to alert anyone aboard the station as to their presence if the massive carrier approached the station.
She was keeping in touch with her team aboard the Labyrinth via a secure link through the Commonwealth owned sections of the station. The Commonwealth’s local liaison had been discretely informed of the Churchill’s presence.
Chen was in her quarters, quietly working through reams of reports on her desk console. Drill reports, maintenance details, squadron readiness rosters. She’d been ploughing through the back log of work to fill the empty time until her security team reported back from the Labyrinth, assuming they found anything of course. The Nahabe weren’t exactly the most co-operative of species, even though they were technically allies. They seemed to prefer to keep other races at arm’s length, or whatever appendages they possessed. No humans knew what one of them actually looked like, hidden away as they were inside those weird floating sarcophagi.
She browsed a weekly breakdown of maintenance on the ship’s power systems. Faults were down twenty per cent. Good. Chief Kleiner had been working his staff to combat the shakedown problems that they’d been experiencing. It was always the same with new ship classes until they got the problems and quirks ironed out. She had to admit though; the new Saturn class was one hell of a ship, probably the best one the Commonwealth had produced yet. It was fast and manoeuvrable, especially so for a ship of its size and mass, and the complement of ships it carried was twenty percent larger than the older Jupiters. The crew quarters were all slightly larger too, something that made a big difference away from home on long tours.
