I also understand that since Captain Pearce has been unable to locate Heyerdahl on his own, maybe we need to look for less…traditional solutions. I therefore propose the following: Resolute will be sent out top find Zeus with the Demons for protection. The Corsairs will be sent out to find Heyerdahl through whatever means they need to use.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about, Chief,” said Jakes, a huge grin crossing his bearded face. “We can leave right away.”
“Not so fast, Captain Jakes. I would like to send a security team along with you. Just in case you run into unexpected trouble.”
“Now wait just a damn minute, Captain,” said Jakes indignantly. “I pick my own crew here and I don’t need any stiff upper lip military types second guessing my orders on my ship.”
“Nevertheless, Captain,” replied Chang evenly. “You will accept the team or you will not be allowed to refuel or resupply Liberty at this base any longer.”
Jakes looked shocked at the position he had been put in. He knew that Perigee was the only base that he could dock at and finds supplies at. Every time he had tried to buy supplies at other places, he had either been refused service because he was human, or charged an exorbitant fee. He muttered a curse under his breath and sat back down.
“I would like to go with Captain Jakes,” Melaina Petros piped up. “I may be able to help find Erik.”
“I will go as well,” said Tuxor, crossing both sets of arms over his chest. “I know the man fairly well and will be of use to you.”
“Oh sure,” replied Jakes, slapping the side of his leg in exasperation. “The more the merrier. Anyone want to bring a dog?”
“Now that the issue is settled,” Chang started. “I think we can get back to normal station business.”
“Actually, Captain;” interjected Lee. “I have an idea who should lead the security team.”
5
Ch’Tauk Dreadnought
Ki’Bontri strode across the command suite of the immense starship. He had always hated space travel, but he deemed the vessel worthy of him and so he had acquired it as his central command. He had always thought that Ki’Bara had been a fool to choose a modest destroyer type vessel to wage his campaigns from. The elegance and spaciousness of the dreadnought afforded a Primero so much more authority with the fleet.
He wore the traditional blue sash of authority over his bare black chest plates. He disliked the nakedness and informality of the military uniform, but he had modified it to suit current styles. The sash had been embossed with a pattern that the Empress’ advisor had called ‘Batik’ and was told that it made his hardened plates look even more impressive. He took a deep breath, savoring the clean air as the ship’s filtration system masked the pheromones of over ten thousand Ch’Tauk.
Despite his rank and status in the service of the Empress, Ki’Bontri viewed his occupation with some distaste. He had inherited his station from his father who had fought in the last Great War for Empire under the former male incarnation of the Empress. If it had been up to Ki’Bontri, he would have joined the priesthood and by now he was certain that he would have become the newest Camerlingo instead of the officious clerk who now held the post. But he saw the need for order in the military and so that is what he strived to bring to the group.
He had learned long ago that his society needed the order that he seemed to be so good at bringing. He was a planner of the highest regard. His skill at complex and detailed plans had brought him directly to the attention of the Empress almost five cycles ago and he had capitalized on it to improve his status at court. Since that proud day, he had continued to ascend to what he considered his rightful place. The disgrace of Ki’Bara had sealed his place as the new Second among equals, with the former war leader noticeably absent from court.
The window set across the forward command bulkhead showed him a spectacular view of their planet. Always named after the God-Emperors, the planet Ch’Tauk drifted majestically through the heavens like a blood gem. He could make out the rich red grasslands, stretching across the southern continent. Winter was receding from the northern areas and he could see the icy hills of his own homeland beginning to thaw. He longed to escape from his duty and see his estate again, but he had his responsibilities and he was nothing if not dutiful.
“Primero,” announced the voice of his Secundo, Lo’Nado. “Your reports, my Lord.”
The Secundo, an older man who had accepted that he would never rise above his current rank, bowed as he placed the thin, transparent sheet of film into his commander’s four-fingered hand. He wore the pale off-white color of his rank, but without any embossing. Ki’Bontri nodded his head almost imperceptibly and allowed the man to step back. As he ran his finger down the side of the sheet, numbers and writing appeared on the face of the report and began scrolling.
The Primero was an ardent believer in reports and order. He had always felt that the best way to know exactly what was going on was to make a subordinate file a precise and detailed report every rotation. As the files were collated through the ranks, the lower Quartero’s and Tercero’s mostly took care of the little details so that the Secundo’s could summarize and edit just the fine nuances of each report.
“Secundo,” Ki’Bontri asked, pausing the scroll on a report form a distant system. “What are the details of this report?”
Lo’Nado, without any hesitation, produced a duplicate sheet from under his sash and held it up to the Primero. He placed his index finger on a control and the sheet immediately synchronized with the Primero’s report, scrolling down to the same report. The Secundo scanned the writing and then touched the sheet again, expanding the report to its full detail.
“The report was from a small outpost, relayed one rotation ago from a non-Empire world.”
“Go ahead, Secundo,” said Ki’Bontri, turning from his subordinate to look back at the planet in the window.
“There was a minor skirmish between several local officials and a group of aliens,” said Lo’Nado. “They gave chase to some slavers who had been trading in humans.”
Ki’Bontri turned back to the other man. He had sent a detailed plan to all of his Secundo to report sightings of humans anywhere in the galaxy. The verminous race had a habit of turning up whenever a rock was kicked and they had become some of the most popular slaves in the Empire. That had also been the plan of Ki’Bontri and he was understandably proud of it. He waved his hand back at the subordinate to continue.
“The pursuit was cut short by the appearance of a human fighter craft,” Lo’Nado continued. “The rescuers were injured in the chase and blood samples taken by the locals were tested as human as well. Apparently they were in disguise.”
“A human fighter ship?” Ki’Bontri questioned. “Do we have any further description of the craft?”
“The ship matched the description recovered from the communication relay on board the prison station, my Lord,” replied the Secundo, expanding another detail on the transparent sheet. “It was painted silver. According to the report, it was joined in orbit by another and the two ships disabled the local pursuit craft very quickly. They were escorting a passenger vessel as well.”
“How many humans were on that planet?” Primero Ki’Bontri asked, his lower eyes narrowing as he stared at the sheet in his hand. “What were they doing there?”
“The report states that the slaver that was conducting the transaction was murdered,” said Lo’Nado. “But he had records indicating over five hundred in inventory. No records of where he acquired them, though.”
Ki’Bontri scanned the report again, looking for any additional details that might have been overlooked by the subordinate. He remembered that over a cycle ago, a battle took place some distance away from Ch’Tauk and that a human vessel had become separated from the warships that had been protecting it. That idiot Ki’Bara had allowed the ship to de-orbit and had not destroyed it outright. It seemed to Ki’Bontri that the man’s inefficiency knew no bounds and that his mistake
may prove to work in Ki’Bontri’s favor.
“Follow me, Secundo,” ordered the Primero. “I need to correlate other reports and formulate a plan.”
The other man waited until his superior had padded and then stepped in line precisely four steps behind as was the tradition. They left the command center and walked down the corridor to the Primero’s office. Lo’Nado waited as the Primero opened the door and beckoned him to enter. Ki’Bontri appreciated the man’s respect for the old forms and briefly considered making him his personal secretary. The man, however, was too old, though, and would need too much training. No, he thought; better to leave him as his subordinate officer than to have to train a new Secundo.
Ki’Bontri slid his finger along the edge of his desk and the top of the table sprang into life. Scrolling numbers were quickly replaced by the Primero with requests for cross-referenced reports. Lo’Nado was stoic as he watched the other man work. The Primero assumed that the other man was simply too impressed to react to the speed at which he recovered data on the screen.
“Here,” said Ki’Bontri. “Look, Lo’Nado, another report from a different system almost a season ago. The same description was given of the rescuers. That occasion, Ch’Tauk Centurions were present and several of the humans were killed during the escape. The system’s orbital platforms recorded similar images of fighters as well as a large ship of an unknown configuration.
The incident was brought to my attention due to the inquiries placed by the human rescue team. They were looking for one of the scientists from the prison station. Was there any mention of humans looking for a human scientist?”
“No, my Lord,” replied the Secundo quickly. “But once again, the slaver was murdered by the humans so information about their goal is subjective.”
The Primero continued to look at the reports that he had called up. His eyes began to open and close rapidly as he began to formulate new plans. Once again, it was all careful planning for Ki’Bontri. A new scheme took shape and he quickly slid icons around on his desk. The details of the plan were delicate and would require several rotations to complete, but Ki’Bontri knew that he now understood the humans and could anticipate their next move.
“I will need a channel to the Quartero managing the slave program. I will need him to round some of the vermin up and ship them to me as soon as possible. I will also need to speak to the Camerlingo, highest priority.”
“At once, my Lord,” replied the Secundo crisply. He began to turn, but the Primero stopped him with a nod.
“We are about to spring a trap for these humans, Lo’Nado,” said Ki’Bontri, still sliding his planning icons around his desk. “I still need to know where to set the trap, but I think I can safely say that when we are done, the human problem will be eliminated for good.”
“My Lord,” said Lo’Nado. “If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion? There was a minor detail in the most recent report, Sir.”
“Yes, Secundo,” said Ki’Bontri looking away from the screen for one moment. “What is it? I am very busy now.”
“My Lord, the report mentions that the rescue group was made up of several races,” said the Secundo. “One of which was the Caretakers.”
At the mention of the race, Ki’Bara’s head snapped up to look at Lo’Nado. All four of his eyes were wide and staring directly at the Secundo. He stood to his full height before looking back at the table. When he looked back at Lo’Nado, he was emitting a pheromone of joy and contentment that the subordinate found disquieting.
“The Caretakers,” said Ki’Bontri. If these humans are working with the Caretakers, then the Engineers must not be far away. Thank you, Secundo; you have given me the final piece of my plan.”
Lo’Nado stood still as the Primero swept past him and back down the hall to the command center. He strode across the floor to the navigator station and addressed the Centurion directly. The low ranking man emitted a powerful fear pheromone as the Primero leaned in close.
“Set our course, Navigator,” ordered Ki’Bontri. “We have plans to lay the borders of Imperial space.”
6
The Sweet Liberty
Henry Moore leaned against the inside side of the umbilical walkway outside of the Sweet Liberty sulking. He had been the last member of his security team to arrive and now he was being kept waiting by the so-called captain of the privateer vessel. He checked the chronometer sewn into his sleeve one more time to see that the ship was due to depart in only a few minutes. He began to think that Jakes was going to leave without him and that he would have to order the ship destroyed just to teach the man a lesson.
As he pulled away from the wall to prepare himself to exit the floating corridor, he spotted some familiar faces coming down the walkway toward the ship. Melaina Petros was carrying a small bag over her shoulder and was being accompanied by the alien Tuxor. He was doubled over almost in half as he walked towards Henry; both sets of arms were wrapped around a case that appeared heavy.
“Melaina,” Henry started. “Can I try one more time to talk you out of coming along? These guys are not really your type.”
“Henry,” Melaina replied. “I think I can handle a few rough men as long as I have you to watch over me.”
Henry smiled as he looked at her olive complexioned face. The first time he had met her he had admired her delicate beauty and intelligence. She was very different from his former wife, who had died almost three years before and Henry had wondered what it might be like to get to know her better. Unfortunately, he also knew that she was way out of his league, so they remained friends.
“Sergeant Moore,” said Tuxor in his mellow voice. “Has Captain Jakes not opened the hatch for us yet? The ship is due to depart within minutes and I do not want to be left here in the umbilical.”
“I was just thinking the same thing, my friend,” replied Henry, looking at the still closed hatch. “I think maybe Jakes forgot about us.”
There was a rumble from the airlock as the hatch slid aside, revealing the grinning face of Captain Connor Jakes. He was still wearing the same sleeveless white shirt and tight black pants that Henry had seen him in almost two months ago and they didn’t look as though they had been washed in all that time. Neither, Henry thought, did Jakes. The man’s oily hair fell to his shoulders and his beard looked as though he had been straining his meals through it.
“Well,” said Jakes in his customary booming voice. “It’s about time you people showed up. Your goons arrived hours ago, Sarge. I put them all in the cargo hold.”
“You had best given them staterooms,” Henry said, pointing a calloused finger at Jakes. “My people can’t protect anyone if they haven’t had rest and a place to shower. You do have showers on this tub, don’t you?”
“Relax, Hank,” replied Jakes, pushing down the tip of Henry’s finger as he walked past him to Melaina. “You, boys each got a bunk of your own. And for you, my dear; my finest cabin, right next to mine.”
“My name,” replied Moore. “Is Master Sergeant Henry Moore.”
Jakes reached for Melaina’s hand and drew it up to kiss the back, ignoring Henry’s protests. Melaina pulled her hand away as she felt the ends of his beard scrape her flesh. Jakes grinned as he pulled his hand back and looked up at Tuxor. The amphibian glared with his wide eyes as Jakes stepped back towards the hatch.
“Thank you, Captain,” Melaina said. “But I can stay with Tuxor. We have a lot of work to do if we are to find Erik Heyerdahl and save his research.”
“Well, I’ll try not to take it personal,” Jakes said, turning back to the hatch and brushing past Henry. “But it is the first time I’ve ever been rejected in favor of a frog. No offense, Mister Tuxor.”
The four entered the ship and Jakes slapped the control by the door, closing the airlock and activating the seals. Another quick tap on the control and Henry saw the umbilical corridor disconnect from the ship. He saw it retract towards the station as they began to move down the tight hallway towards the front of the s
hip.
The Sweet Liberty was a small ship, converted from a private yacht to serve as a fast smuggling vessel for Jakes and his crew. It only carried a crew of about twenty privateers when they left the station to procure items that Chang and his people could not grow or purchase themselves. Although Henry knew that the fragile alliance on the station needed people like Jakes, he still couldn’t shake his old law enforcement habits and bring himself to like the pirates.
“Since we are running a bit late,” Jakes said over his shoulder. “We’ll be heading to the bridge before I get you folks settled in. I need to get our butts moving before we start to grow mold.”
Henry glanced at the man’s apparently unwashed pants and wondered if that moment had already passed. As they maneuvered through the ship, they passed several of the Liberty’s crew. Most were dressed in shabby clothing like Jakes, but a few seemed to have adopted a more formal mode of dress. One man, tall and broad chested, wore a long sleeved shirt with ruffled collar and cuffs and a long velvet jacket of an ancient cut. Henry began to wonder about the chain of command on this ship and how Jakes could ever maintain control over such an eccentric crew.
As they reached the end of the corridor, the door to the bridge opened and the four travelers stepped into the controlled chaos of the command center. The bridge was much smaller than Henry was used to, having only a row of consoles and one central command chair. The view screen curved across the front of the bridge, showing a panoramic view of the station and the surrounding space.
Henry could just make out the trailing edge of the battleship that had been his home for the last year. Resolute seemed bigger from this angle as it also detached its moorings and pulled away from Perigee station. As it cleared the station, the big ship swung around and away from the meteor damaged planet below. As she started to accelerate away from the station, Resolute passed by the enormous bulk of the carrier Baal. Fleeting memories of taking the ship after the crazed Admiral Hathaway had tried to use it to destroy the battleship and the luxury liner Terran Princess a year ago past through Henry’s mind.
Resolute Omnibus (The War for Terra) Page 28
