Sector Eight (Perimeter Defense: Book #1)

by Michael Atamanov

  "Oh, finally it's the master of these knaves! I'd grown sick of waiting!" came the pirate, greeting me derisively.

  "I was hoping that I wouldn't have to solve this issue personally. But now that there is no other way, I'll be brief, as I find it unpleasant to be in the same room with a criminal." I was trying to demonstrate haughtiness and contempt with all my might. "I need the coordinates of the Hnelle warp beacon. I'm prepared to take them, whether it be the nice way or the not-nice way. In the first case, you'll get a million credits, a new identity and be released to the four winds, alive and unharmed. In the second, I'll wait for the Truth Seeker, and she will try to get the information out of you regardless of the psionic block. The chance of finding the truth is quite high, but you will die. Have I explained myself clearly?"

  "Clear as day," agreed Velesh. "But why do you want the beacon coordinates? The station there is very well protected, and there is a defense fleet as well. What if I lead your fleet there and you can't capture the station? I'd become a traitor in the eyes of my friends and still wouldn't get any reward."

  "Alright, you'll get the money transfer as soon as my ships arrive to Hnelle, regardless of how this plays out. If my fleet wins, you'll get another million. And now tell me: what should I be expecting there?"

  The captain kept quiet for a while, then answered nevertheless:

  "You’ve got a way with negotiations, Prince Georg. I'll tell you, even if it is to my detriment. In the Hnelle system there is the defense fleet – two cruisers, one of which heavy, and three destroyers. With your fleet, you'll have to sweat to take them down."

  I pretended to mull it over for a long time. Then I said decisively:

  "I have no choice. After the debacle at the Vorta beacon, I need to rehabilitate myself in the Emperor's eyes, so I am prepared to risk it. Plus, your captured cruiser has become part of my fleet, so we have enough forces to win, even if it won't be easy. How can I get the beacon coordinates?"

  "Prince, near the captain's console to the right there is a metal box with a lid. You need to lift up the plastic cover from the keyboard, press 1 and 6, then wait for an answer. In reply, there will be a brief period when the beacon will be turned on. Before doing that, you need to be in starting position, ready for a jump. And as soon as the beacon is activated, don't blink, jump right away."

  I walked out of the room with the prisoners and went into the next one over. The little girl with blue eyes was sitting on the floor, drawing flowers and butterflies with colored pencils on a sheet of paper.

  "Millena, did you hear our conversation?"

  "Yes, of course. He was lying. There aren't two cruisers in the Brotherhood of the Stars fleet, there are four. And they're all heavy. Signal 16 is the code for 'My ship has been captured but can be recovered. Prepare for an engagement.'"

  "Thank you. You can go back to Roben now. The shuttle will take you to my brother's flying palace. As soon as Roben comes to, thank him from me."

  Roben had grown angry with me and had been drinking heavily for three days already. I was not expecting that the Uukresh's arrival would cause such a stormy reaction from my older brother.

  "Six hundred twenty million! You've gone bonkers, little brother! You have no conscience!" Those were the very words that the sovereign of Tesse had used upon receiving the bill presented to him for payment.

  He paid the bill but demonstrated his dissatisfaction with his whole appearance. Then he went on a bender, put all his affairs on autopilot and stopped answering calls. I’d had to negotiate with the little Truth Seeker on my own. The child did not object and immediately agreed to help in the conversation with the pirate captain.

  * * *

  "Prepare for warp in three minutes!" Admiral Kiro Sabuto announced to the whole fleet.

  The ships were already picking up speed and drifting toward the far-off, barely visible star. My palms started to sweat from trembling, and I tried to dry them on my pants in a way that no one would notice. It was noticed, though, by the derisive gaze of the android. Yes, Bionica was in the headquarters today too, sitting in the seat next to me. Not all officers responded positively to the robot’s being stationed in the fleet's holiest of holies. I heard dissatisfied whispers, but no one expressed themselves out loud.

  I turned on the microphone:

  "One minute! Be prepared to receive the signal!" I reminded all the captains to set the jump to pre-warp twelve hundred miles away from the beacon. The last thing we needed was more surprises, like mine fields.

  Bionica, sitting next to me, chirped out a long tirade of squeaks and creaks, repeating my words to the Iseyeks. One after the next, the ships confirmed that they were ready to receive the coordinates.

  "Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven."

  Tensions mounted.

  "We've got a signal! New beacon!" cried three or four officers at once, scanning the cosmos.

  "All ships warp to the coordinates!" I yelled at full-throat.

  "Een-teesaka-teero-leesss!" shrieked the android next to me.

  A tunnel opened, and space darkened as usual. It worked!

  "Four hours to warp tunnel exit!" said Captain Clay ton Avelle, former first assistant to Oorast Pohl.

  Oorast Pohl had accepted my offer to become captain of Joan the Fatty. The former pirate heavy cruiser had become the most terrifying unit in my fleet after modernization, and I was planning to transfer my headquarters there as soon as possible. Doing that quickly, before the beginning of the operation, had upset the bureaucratic inertia. While they were registering the new name for the ship in the Orange House register, they got its friend-foe codes. While they were filing for the captain's transfer, and hiring officers and assistants, the time for combat operations to begin had already come.

  "Now let's just hope that the rest of our ships were able to come after us. I wouldn't like to race up to a fleet of enemies on nothing but an unarmed yacht," grumbled Admiral Sabuto.

  "Dad, when are we gonna fight the pirates?" rang out Lika's voice from behind me.

  I turned around very slowly.

  "Likanna, how did you get on the ship?"

  My daughter lowered her eyes to the floor.

  "The young Crown Princess arrived fifteen minutes ago on a shuttle," said one of the officers.

  "So, everyone knew, but no one had enough smarts to guess that an eleven-year-old girl has absolutely no business on a ship on its way to a battle?" I asked sternly, looking all around.

  The officers and even the admiral looked away guiltily. My daughter hurried to interfere, going on the offensive:

  "Dad, how could you? I haven't seen you for eight days! You came back to Tesse and didn't even take a peek at me in the castle, but I really wanted to see you! Obviously, I missed you, so I flew to see you myself. Your people actually didn't want to let me in to the dock, but who can stop a Crown Princess?! I ordered it, and they let me through."

  "Alright, Lika, for the next three and a half hours, I'm all yours. But after that, you're gonna spend the next half hour sitting in a space suit in a rescue shuttle, and you're not gonna leave without my permission. Got it? If you're a good girl, I'll let you name one of the Katanas under construction."

  "Two Katanas, and you've got a deal. Just promise you won't change the names. Joan the Fatty just isn't as offensive as the name I gave you, ‘Big Fat Joan.’"

  "Alright. Everyone else gathered here, I order to take a three-hour leave."

  When my daughter and I had left the headquarters, Lika whispered:

  "Dad, have you noticed that all the girls in your headquarters have started wearing make-up? They used to sit, gray and timid, and now they've suddenly decided to take a liking to one of the men. It isn't you, is it?"

  "You see it too!" I laughed.

  "And who's that cute blonde you've got sitting next to you?" Likanna wouldn't drop it.

  "That is an android translator to the language of the praying mantises."

  "Well, that's no fun," said my daughter,
puffing out her lips. "What am I supposed to gossip about later with my friends? What can I tell them? It was supposed to be like an adventure – fighting the pirates, but now I have to sit the whole battle out in a shuttle."

  "Tell them about your palace on Tesse," I offered, but Lika could only sigh sadly.

  "On Tesse there... I don't even know how to say it. It's uncomfortable or something. There's an atmosphere of general fear. The main news on the planet is like: 'how's the heir's health, it hasn't gotten worse, has it?' Did you know that Roben's son survived a clinical death four days ago? The doctors just barely saved him, and it's not the first time either... Aunt Verena only lives through her son; she doesn't even want to see anyone else. Uncle Roben is also really worried. Every day he drinks himself to a blackout because he isn't strong enough to bear all that fear..."

  I pondered for a second. It wasn't due to the cost of remodeling the Uukresh that my brother was so worried – what was six hundred million credits to him? The reason was something else entirely. It's too bad Roben didn't tell me that. And what a good guy I am! Three days I spent on Tesse, and I didn't even take a peek at the local news...

  * * *

  As we left warp, all the staff officers exhaled in concert and a flurry of curse words burst forth. The Truth Seeker had not been wrong. The enemy really did have four cruisers, and all four were heavy assault Flambergs. But the little girl had left one thing out: in addition to the heavy cruisers, there were three Surgeon-class destroyers, specialized in recharging the shields of the heavy ships and ninety (!!!) frigates, half Pyros and half Tusks.

  There was good news too. All our ships had made it out of warp.

  "There are multiple targets. Five hundred miles to the enemy," came Nicole Savoia, slightly distracted by the commotion. For some reason, I just noticed that she was, in fact, wearing lipstick.

  "Alright, good. Let's get to work." I hurried to take the helm of the fleet so the soldiers could hear their commander's confident voice and get the butterflies out of their stomachs. "You know the drill. Pyro-1: first receiver, Pyro-2: second receiver. Heavies will form the forward group. Keep an eye on your distance. Destroyers and light cruisers, take position twenty miles behind the heavies, hang out toward the third planet. Tria, fly out four hundred miles away from us, also in the direction of the third planet. Safas and Tusks, hold by the Tria for now. Other frigates, hold on, just don't stay in one place, take free orbits around Queen of Sin."

  Meanwhile, a verbal sparring match was under way on the public channels. Quick-witted soldiers from both sides were facing off in a battle of rhetoric. Yes, I know that soldiers like to get their two cents in before a battle – their nerves are acting up. But I was always a supporter of discipline in the fleet, and now I was hurrying to put an end to this nonsense:

  "So, this order applies to all my officers. If you want to gab, go to the encrypted fleet channel. But you don't talk to your food. Weren't you taught that as children?"

  The battle began somehow suddenly. A cluster of enemy ships began reducing the distance between us at breakneck speed.

  "Anti-support, keep your guards up! Let them get wrapped up in the heavies, but if they come any closer, cut them the hell down! Work together in groups of no less than four or five, concentrating on one target. I don't have any need for damaged ships, so go for the sure shot and don't scare off our booty. Heavies, target the Surgeon. I've marked it on the map. Do not fire before my command! On the count of three. One, two, three!"

  The far-off destroyer was replaced with the bright fire of an explosion, which instantly faded to black. I gave some new orders, having finally settled into the new atmosphere:

  "The next Surgeon we see is the primary target. The one after that is the secondary. Shoot only on my command. One, two, three! Anti-support, take those animals down now! Don't let them escape! Great! Safa-4, what are you doing? You're supposed to be next to the Tria! Brainless spider, where do you think you're going?! Go to hell!!!"

  The Iseyek frigate decided to help the pinned-down Joan the Fatty for some reason and didn't survive even a few seconds.

  I commented on that moment with relish, so much so that Bionica, sitting next to me translating, demonstrated outwardly that androids can also blush.

  "We can't hold Fatty! Its shields are going down faster than we can recharge them!" rang out Oorast Pohl's calm voice, as if it wasn't his ship he was talking about.

  "Understood, hold on! All heavies, fire on the marked cruiser. Its name is Happy Sloth. Pyros, to the first receiver! We can't let Sloth escape alive! Anti-support, don't sleep, cut down those frigates around Fatty. Warhawks-1, 2, and 3, get those enemy drones off our light cruisers. Electronic fighters, come the hell on! You've got six ships! Take Corpse Sword out of the battle already! Warhawk-4, your mission is to take down the last Surgeon before it gets away."

  "Fatty is in the weeds! Shields at twenty percent!" Notes of nervousness had appeared in Oorast Pohl's voice.

  "It'll get easier from here on out. Queen of Sin, warp to zero to Fatty!"

  Some of the officers sitting next to me gasped. But I knew what I was doing. The shields on my yacht were strong, almost as strong as a heavy cruiser's. Let the enemy go after this valuable target and give the cruiser a break.

  The ship jerked forward into the very thick of the battle.

  "A warp disruptor has been placed on us! Two even! Three! And two stasis webs!" said Captain Clay ton Avelle with obvious interest in his voice, as if he was just curious whether his yacht would make it out alive or not.

  I felt the ship give a jolt. One of the enemy cruisers unloaded its cannons on Queen of Sin. After that, a bright flash lit up the screen, even the light filters suddenly kicking in didn't help, and I was blinded for a couple of seconds.

  "Happy Sloth's reactor blew up," commented Nicole.

  "Great! Focus all heavies on Corpse Sword! Pyros, the enemy support ships have been decimated and are fleeing, so all three cruisers take point on the battlefield. None of them can be allowed to escape. Warhawk-4, what the hell are you doing sleeping? Why isn't the Surgeon under the disruptor and web yet? I'm giving you thirty seconds to catch it! I'll cut off your balls myself if he gets away!"

  "Commander, I'm afraid I'm a girl..." came the captain of Warhawk-4, correcting me with reproach.

  "Oh, yeah? Well, I don't give a crap about your personal issues! You've got twenty-five seconds to catch the Surgeon! Safas and Tusks, prepare to warp to Warhawk-4!"

  "The Surgeon has been captured," reported the captain of Warhawk-4.

  "That's more like it. See? You can do it when you want to! Safas and Tusks, warp to the Surgeon. Maul that cowardly beast!"

  "Corpse Sword is ready!" reported Oorast Pohl. "Fatty's shields are recharging, already up to thirty-five percent."

  "Great! All heavies, focus on Hunchback's Heir. Anti-support, move out and wipe up the rest of the frigates. Warhawks from one to four, cut speed, exit to near orbit around the cruisers and hold them down."

  I relaxed slightly. The battle had clearly moved into the final phase. All that was left was to catch the last few enemies, who were flying off in all directions. And here... a big group of enemy frigates warped simultaneously to my first receiver! How? Where'd they get the jump coordinates?! I was the first to figure out what was happening.

  "Pyro-1, warp immediately to heavies!!! Get out of there right now!"

  "It's too late, my Prince. I have a disruptor and web on me..." There was no fear in Maur Cassei's voice, just a statement of fact.

  "All frigates, warp immediately to Pyro-1! Hold out for five seconds, old man! Help is on the way!"

  "Thank you, my Prince. I can die happy!"

  Standing change. Your relationship with Maur Cassei has improved.

  Presumed personal opinion of you: +38 (friendly)

  A second later, Pyro-1 was no more. The herd of frigates sent to help arrived in a cloud of debris. I let out a sinister howl and shouted on the public cha
nnel:

  "You've killed a legend. I'm giving you exactly one minute to surrender. Whoever does not will be eaten alive by Iseyeks!"

  A chorus of rattling, chirping insect voices on the channel confirmed to the incredulous that I wasn't joking.

  "My Prince, they're surrendering!" said the admiral.

  "Cease fire... Hold disruptors on all those who've surrendered. If one of them tries to turn on their warp drive, destroy them on the spot!"

  "No emergency rescue capsules have been noted on the battlefield," said one of the tacticians sorrowfully.

  I stood up with difficulty and ran my utterly insane gaze over the staff officers. For some reason, they were all standing at attention. With a crisp gait, Admiral Kiro Sabuto approached me and unexpectedly lowered down on one knee.

  Standing change. Empire Military faction opinion of you has improved.

  Present Empire Military faction opinion of you: +1 (indifferent)

  "My Prince, that was an unbelievable thing you did! We came up against a fleet of approximately the same size and lost just two frigates! I still can't believe our luck!"

  "I don't smell a whiff of luck here, admiral. From the get-go, we were a bit stronger and more organized, so to me our victory was rightfully earned. Losing Safa-4 was just totally dumb, but I have no idea how we weren't able to save Pyro-1... Call the captain of Pyro-27. Put him through to all ships in the fleet. I need to speak with him about his heroic great-grandfather.”

  Standing change. Empire Military faction opinion of you has improved.

  Present Empire Military faction opinion of you: +2 (indifferent)

  Two improvements in a row?! Apparently one for the victory, and another for honoring the fallen hero. I didn't speak long, but I was penetrating and sincere. The young Alessandro Cassei, who had graduated just one day earlier, heard me out without hiding his tears. When I suggested renaming his frigate Pyro-1 in memory of his heroic great-grandfather, the boy only had enough strength to nod in silence. The sheer number of messages about personal opinion improvement overwhelmed my eyes, so I closed them all at once.