She looked up at him. “Speaking of dumb luck, we got seriously lucky. If the enemy were using their own ships instead of that Gray garbage, their dispositions would have been a lot harder for us to pick apart.”
“I was looking at a Marine ship destroyer the day we met,” Paul told her. “The defensive weapons are probably equal to the offensive weapons on your ships.”
“We still would have killed them,” she said, “but it would have taken a hell of a toll on the flankers. And the fast-attack ships would have been firing AM rounds.”
“The slug that hit us would’ve been antimatter as well.” Paul shuddered, thinking about the massive cloud of energy that would have replaced the Rope a Dope and all her crew.
“I should be thanking that idiot Kinsey,” she said, her skin flushed. She looked away from Paul, taking a deep breath. “He handed us two thirds of his flight personnel on a platter. The 538 is little more than a basic Naval-Infantry unit now.”
Every time she looked away from him, Paul was surprised to find himself staring. The lines of her profile, the curve of her neck… He forced himself to look away. He’d served as a Marine but never in combat.
He wasn’t familiar with this particular side effect of near-death experiences. For some, it increased the urge to reproduce, no doubt an evolved mechanism to preserve the species’ numbers in the face of a hostile environment.
He’d already noticed a few urges where Colonel Urbica was concerned but he was a big boy and he’d managed to put that aside. She’d come out here to fight the Emperor’s enemies, not to flirt with fools. Now, however, still dealing with the after-effects of the adrenaline rush, he found it much harder to ignore.
He forced himself to look at the holographic battleground. Two enemy ships had managed to escape. Probably not a huge loss. Kinsey would find out, sooner or later, that he’d lost the majority of his flight crews.
“Secure from General Quarters,” Urbica ordered. She ran a hand over her stubbled scalp as she looked over at Paul. “As soon as we get squared away, we’ll resume course for Trochu,” she told him. “I’m assuming you still need to send…”
“Distortion alert!” a sensor officer shouted. “Multiple inbounds.”
“Beat to quarters,” Urbica snapped. She titled her head to the side for a moment and then the three squadron commanders were projected in front of her.
“Inbound ships,” she told them curtly. “Re-form to face the coordinator’s marker.”
Before anything else could be said, the blackness of space was filled with blinding, bluish light.
Ships traveling any distance outside of the wormhole network relied on their phase drives. The drives created a compression of space-time in front of the vessel and a corresponding dilation behind its stern.
It essentially shifted space past the ship, giving the passengers and crew no sensation of movement despite traveling many times the speed of light.
One aspect of phase travel was that the ‘bow-wave’ of compressed space picked up any cosmic debris along the way. That debris was then released on ‘dropout’ with almost unimaginable energy.
The massive plume of high-energy particles and gamma rays meant phase-traveling ships had to arrive in civilized systems on strict schedules and only in approved approach corridors.
Here in the middle of nowhere, however, rules didn’t exist. Fortunately, the inbound ships weren’t on an intersecting course and the dragoons survived unscathed.
At least for the moment.
“No IFF transponder, but that’s a Marine force,” Urbica declared. She turned to her three squadron leaders. “I’m all out of clever, fellas. They caught us flatfooted.”
Liang shrugged. “Nobody said we’d live forever. If we use a couple of squadrons to hold them here, you could pull out…”
“Wait a minute,” Paul cut him off. “That’s an LHV. I know more than a few units have them, but what are the chances of a Marine unit showing up where we are and having a brand new LHV?”
He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising. “Colonel, hail them; it could be the 488.”
“Whatever we do,” Dmitry advised, “do it fast. They’re launching their aviation assets.”
Urbica looked straight through Paul as she accessed menus to hail the newcomers. “Inbound vessel, this is Colonel Julia Urbica of the Imperial Marines, commanding officer of the 1st Gliesan Dragoons. Please identify yourselves.”
There was no response for a moment and the attack craft continued to form up around the LHV. “If we’re going to fight,” Liang warned, “we need to fire first. Once they start sending AM rounds our way, the balance will shift fast. We need to keep as many of them from firing as possible.”
Urbica was staring intently at the holo-projection of the new ship. She drew a breath and, before she could speak, the answer came.
“Colonel, this is Major Anthony Nathaniel of the 488. Ma’am, we were told you’d been killed near these coordinates by raiders. Frankly, we thought your ships were the pirates.”
“Yeah, you did seem a little aggressive,” Urbica replied dryly. “No doubt that was the reason for the lies they told you. Major, what are you doing out here?”
“Ma’am, it’s complicated,” Tony replied. “Would you be able to join me over here? It really would be best if we talk in a secure room.”
“Very well, Major. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“I’ll clear you for landing in the main hangar.” Tony paused and the inflection at the end of his previous sentence indicated he might have more to say. “Do you happen to have Inspector Grimm with you?”
“I’m here, Tony.” Paul’s implants allowed him to join the conversation. “What the hell’s going on?”
“It’s best if we wait till you’re aboard.” Tony sounded exhausted.
Bad News Travels Fast
The Xipe Totec was vastly different from the Dauntless. She was half the size but, more importantly, she didn’t seem to age as you came closer. She had glided out of the graving dock at Michigan Junction only eight years ago and her hull was flawless.
The shuttle slipped through the nav shield and followed an orange-vested ground guide to their assigned docking zone. The landing points hit the deck with a muted clunk.
When Paul stepped out, he found a Marine captain waiting for them. He accessed the unit files and noticed he’d met the man before. His CPU implant came in very handy at times like this.
“Harrison,” Paul greeted him. “How’s Emma?”
A pleased smile. “Full recovery,” he replied, “thanks to the senator.”
Paul thought he detected a falter in the man’s smile and it added to his concern. “Major Nathaniel’s up in the bridge with General Pullman?”
“It’s best he talk to you,” Harrison gestured toward the central lift.
With a glance to Urbica, he followed the young officer to the lift and rode up through the cavernous space. He cringed slightly as they passed through a small hole. They continued through seven more decks before coming to a stop.
They waited while an armored Marine walked past with a German Shepherd. He shared a glance with Urbica. Both knew that ship security only wore armor if they were on a wartime footing.
They were ushered onto the bridge. Unlike the super-dreadnaughts, Marine ships tended to put their bridges deep inside the vessel, behind layers of heavy armor.
There were no windows with pretty views. Holo-displays filled the space and the flame-proof metal decks and exposed ceilings were somehow reassuring to Paul after the plush bridge of the Rope a Dope.
Tony stepped through a hologram of the local region and held out a hand toward a door at the back of the bridge. “We can talk in here,” he said.
“Tony,” Paul began as soon as the door started to slide shut, “what the hell is going on? Why are you out here? We need to get a signal out to your father…”
“My father is dead,” Tony cut him off, his voice flat. “Julius is
presumed dead as well. General Pullman ordered my detention as soon as word got out.”
Paul stood rooted to the floor, staring at Tony. Detention… He was a cop, he knew the difference between arrest and detention. There were no official records for detention.
If you put someone into detention, it would be very easy to kill him and claim you hadn’t seen him. Pullman was hoping to sit on the fence, holding Tony as a pawn. Paul knew he was seeking refuge in the relatively mundane, trying to ignore the constricting feeling in his chest.
His friends were gone and his quest to redeem Julius’ name had been a failure. He had no intention of stopping, however. He would find the people who did this and make sure they paid.
“What happened to Hadrian?”
“Assassination,” Tony spat the word. “Someone walked up to him in the grand rotunda and detonated an internal charge. Vaporized them both and killed another three senators and two aides.”
Paul’s entire body tingled with the urge to run, to fight, to seek revenge. He wanted to punch the walls, trash the room and scream, but he knew it would accomplish nothing. He waited until he could master his voice before speaking again.
“I’m sorry, Tony.” Paul’s fists were clenched so tightly his fingers were growing numb. He flexed them. “If I’d been there instead of poking around on the Rim…”
“You couldn’t have known this was coming.” Tony insisted wearily. “We knew there was a play against us, but we had no idea they were going to escalate so heavily and so quickly.”
“What about Pullman? I can’t help but notice you don’t seem very detained…”
A wry smile. “Pullman ordered the officer of the deck to lock me up, but the general ended up in detention himself along with most of the senior staff in our wing. I was lucky Chris had the duty watch that afternoon; we came up through the academy together.”
“So they’re hunting your family down,” Paul said. “Probably to keep you out of the way of whatever their play is at Irricana, but we still don’t have any theories that hold water. What the hell are they hoping to gain out here?”
“That’s one of the reasons I came out here,” Tony said. “My father found out Seneca had managed to sneak the 726 out to Santa Clara. We thought it had something to do with all this, since Kinsey is in Seneca’s pocket.”
“Santa Clara?” Paul put his hands on the back of one of the chairs. “So, what’s the connection between Santa Clara and Irricana?”
“Wŏ de mā!” Urbica had been quiet while Tony talked about the death of his father but now she couldn’t hold back.
“Erbium,” she said. “Irricana is really only known for erbium. The planet represents more than seventy percent of Imperial production and at least ninety percent of known reserves.”
“You’re right.” Paul looked over at her. “Without erbium, the factories on Santa Clara will shut down. They can’t produce circuitry without it.”
He turned to Tony. “And you know how quickly your pretty new ship will die without a steady flow of replacement circuits.”
“Aiya, bù hǎo!” Tony’s face went white. “We carry incubators with a six-month supply, but that’s only because this is a mark seventy-three. The older models only have a month at the most.”
“So, they take those worlds,” Urbica said, “then they put a stranglehold on the military. The only thing that still doesn’t fit is the probability that CentCom will throw every ship in the Imperium into the effort to recapture both worlds quickly.”
Paul’s eyes widened. “Unless they’re willing to cripple both worlds as a last resort. Would CentCom still send in a strike force if they thougt the rebels would destroy production at both worlds?”
Tony had regained his color, but now he was turning a dark shade as shock gave way to anger. “Those bastards have thought this through, alright. It’s just enough of a threat to tie the Grand Senate in knots and CentCom certainly won’t care for the risk ratio involved in a direct assault.
“The Senate will dither and pose for the cameras while the idiots at CentCom will war-game a thousand covert options.”
“And the whole time,” Urbica added, “the Imperium’s warships will grind to a halt from lack of replacement chips.”
“How the hell did two worlds manage to develop a stranglehold on something so critical?” Tony demanded. “Military logistics is never supposed to rely on single-source supply. It’s the law, dammit!”
“Yeah, well, we’ve been staring at this for a while and never saw it,” Paul told him. “It’s not surprising nobody’s done anything about this; the Imperium’s got its fair share of weaknesses. Which ones are we supposed to prioritize? And the law doesn’t talk about percentages. It just states there has to be more than one potential supplier.”
“Ganges makes circuits,” Urbica told them. “Just nowhere near enough to keep the military in operation. There are other sites as well but, even if you put all of us at full production, we’d never be able to replace the output from Santa Clara.”
“Even if you could ramp up production,” Paul added, “you’d still need erbium and most of the Imperium’s reserves are on Irricana.”
“We need to put a stop to this,” Tony insisted, “before they get settled in.”
“I’ve been working on a plan for that.” Urbica looked at Tony for a half minute, a slightly amused expression on her face. “How much of the 488 did you manage to steal, Major?”
A sheepish grin. “All of the aviation assets, ma’am, and a battalion of ground troops. Our family has always had a good relationship with the unit.”
“So I gathered from Inspector Grimm’s conversation with Captain Harrison,” she replied approvingly. “Do you have any issues with putting yourself and your men under my orders?”
“Not at all, Colonel.” He looked relieved to find a competent superior with a plan. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“We need to start with Irricana. We have to sneak some forces into Vermillion and find their ‘plan B’. It’s probably an antimatter device so it’s going to be hard to find.”
“Hell, I was thinking Kinsey would just eradicate the city from orbit,” Paul exclaimed, “but, yeah, he’d want to make sure the threat could be carried out even if he lost his ships.”
“So I’ll take a team and sneak into the capital,” she said. “My dragoons all have family down there, so I owe it to them. When we find it, Major, you’ll take out the super-dreadnaught.”
Tony tilted his head back slightly, regarding her with mild skepticism. “Something tells me you have a daring scheme in mind…”
She grinned.
Hiring a Guide
“You think we’ll be in the right spot?” Paul asked the pilot.
“Give me a break, buddy,” the dragoon officer shot back. “With this export Gray garbage? My son’s flow-board has better avionics than this flying turd.” He glanced at Paul. “Close up your armor, jackass. If Kinsey gets a look at your face, the whole plan falls apart.”
Paul took a final look over his shoulder. Urbica was tied to one of the hand poles in the back of the captured Khlen-class assault carrier.
Her face bore several new bruises and her armor had been removed, leaving her in her skin-tight under-armor suit. He realized his eyes were wandering and forced them back to her face.
She gave him a wink. “Don’t worry, it’ll work as long as you keep your head.”
He nodded, turning back to face the plaz windows just as they darkened to protect the crew from the plasma of dropout. He deployed his full helmet.
“Not bad,” the pilot muttered. “We’re forty seconds out from the Dauntless.” He opened a channel. “Ghost call-sign to INV Dauntless. Requesting passage of the nav shield. Also requesting a quarantined landing zone and immediate, personal direction from Sunray, over.”
“Roger, Ghost call-sign, passage approved. Please advise as to request for Sunray, over.”
The pilot hesitated for a few seconds so it
wouldn’t sound rehearsed. “Ahh… Dauntless, roger that. We have an unscheduled passenger who might turn his frown upside down, over.”
There was a short pause. “Ghost, Sunray will be standing by.”
“Everybody stay cool,” Urbica ordered. “This is going to work. We’re going to show him exactly what he wants to see. Just play the roles you’ve been assigned.”
Six of Tony’s Marines were in the back with her, dressed in the modified suits captured by her dragoons. They should be able to pass for Kinsey’s men as long as they avoided close contact with personnel in the Marine hangar.
They landed in the hangar without incident and Paul saw Kinsey approaching the side door of the Gray-built shuttle. He got up and moved back to stand behind Urbica.
The door slid out of the way and Kinsey remained outside, no doubt suspicious that this might be some trick.
Two of Tony’s Marines moved outside and took up guarding positions at either side of the door. As soon as they went still, Paul activated full interior illumination. His blood ran cold as he watched Kinsey.
The man’s eyes grew wide in shock as he realized he was looking at Urbica.
She made a show of trying to turn her back to him. Her under-armor suit left little to the imagination and she was using that to sneak past Kinsey’s guard.
Not terribly pleased about his own role in this farce, Paul grabbed her arms roughly and turned her to face him. He pushed her forward, arching her back.
Romanus Kinsey was one of those average officers who didn’t like being shown up by a woman and he was also someone who actively wanted her eliminated. Seeing her bound and vulnerable was an irresistible lure and her revealing pose was also affecting his decision-making abilities.
His legs carried him inside the shuttle as if they had a mind of their own. He was letting his eyes roam freely over her form and Paul forced himself to stick to the plan.
Kinsey would be of no use to them dead.
The colonel grabbed her chin and lifted her battered face, forcing her to look at him. “Playing at soldier,” he whispered to her.
Rebels and Patriots (Imperium Cicernus Book 3) Page 11
