Shadows in the Sky
Pox War Runners Episode 4
By
Joshua Done
Edited by
Tanya Andrious & Jana Miller
Table of Contents
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3
4
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6
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1
“You two sure you want to be leaving already?” Jimmy, the local mayor, asked as we finished loading the few boxes of things I had bought for Suzan. I was trying to help her make her little room on the Vermillion feel as close to home for her as possible. She seemed to be doing a little better after her outburst against the Silfon. It was never easy losing your parents, but she was proving to be amazingly resilient.
“Yeah, I appreciate your hospitality,” I said, “but I just got a message from the local Commander on the last communications drone. The Empire is offering me twice the fee for a normal run but won’t say what for.”
“Ah, all hush hush. Understandable, Sir.” I wasn’t a knight, but the local Poxians had started referring to me with the slightly, differently emphasized honorific that generally correlated to knighthood in the Empire. It was a little weird, but I didn’t mind. “Don’t go putting that little gal in any more danger. We’ve all taken a liking to her.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t plan on it and she can handle herself better than some adults I know.”
“Right.” He stuck out his hand and I shook it. “Feel free to come on back here,” he said. “Room and board’s on us so long as you want it. You saved our butts twice and we’re not about to forget it.”
“Thanks,” I nodded. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”
“Good merchant,” he said. “Never pass up a free meal.”
“Aye,” I agreed, and turned into the Vermillion, letting the ship seal the airlock behind me with a thump.
“I liked how they fixed the stink,” Suzie said. “It got better each day.”
“Oh, it didn’t get better,” I corrected her. “You just got used to it, didn’t notice it as much.”
“Oh…” Suzie looked concerned. “But does that mean my nose doesn’t work as well anymore? What if something stinks and I don’t know it… how will I know whether I should be grossed out or not?”
I laughed. “Don’t worry; you’ll smell it the next time we’re in town.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yeah. Now let’s get this bathtub in the air.” I plopped down in the pilot’s chair and primed the engines. The little colony didn’t get much space traffic these days; it was a little too close to Silfon and Tarin’Tal space. Its founders wanted a place out of the way to anchor their little banking cartel. Unfortunately for them, they only knew where the other Poxians were staking claims, not where the Empire, Silfon, and Tarin’Tal were.
“They must’ve been surprised.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “but they dealt with it well.”
“Why do you think that?” she asked.
“They’re still here. It’s hard to scratch out a living in off-planet, let alone anchored to a freaking airless moon.”
“But… That thing isn’t round. How can it be a moon?”
“Lots of moons aren’t round. If they aren’t big enough to hold an atmosphere, there’s no reason for the gravity to force them into a sphere.”
“Hmm…” she said skeptically, almost as if she had the ability to reject the reality that sat before her on the scanner if it didn’t meet her understanding of space and planets. “OK,” she said at last. “But it’s still big enough to mess with our calculations right?” she asked.
“Yes.” I flipped a few switches above my head, activating the grand scale GS correction system. It was part of my normal Gravity Stream launch preparations, but I was explaining the importance of each step to Suzie as I taught her how to prime the engines and drive system. Technically, the correction matrix wasn’t necessary for extra-system faster than light travel, but leaving it off was like taking the breaks off a land vehicle; there’s no sensible reason to do it.
“You ready to jump?”
“Yeah!”
“No, you aren’t,” I corrected her.
“Yes I am,” she said. “All nav computers are active, the engines are primed, and the drive is nice and toasty just like you said it should be.”
“But we don’t have any coordinates,” I said. “Where do you think we are going?”
“Umm….” She tried to pull an answer into being through sheer will. “Xenograft?”
“Good try. But when the regional Commander calls there are only two options,” I said. “Since you are pulling guesses out of the air like a bunny from a magic hat, do you want to take a stab at where those could be?”
“Um… Other than Lintalla I don’t know. Are we going to Lintalla? I’ve never seen an Illani before!”
“No. But I’ll take you there some day. We’re going to Camp Hadrian.” Suzie’s eyes widened but she didn’t say a word, which was very unusual for the seven year old ball of energy. “What, you’re not scared are you?” I asked.
“NO!” she snapped. “But… teacher said that no one comes back from there.”
“No criminals, maybe,” I said. “But first and foremost, it’s an Imperial base.”
“I know, marking the edge of Imperial space.”
“Right. And right about now I’d assume it’s the central command base for the Imperial war effort.”
“OK,” she said, looking through the database for the coordinates of the base. “I think everything’s ready.”
“You want to hit the button?” I asked.
“Really?!” she squeaked, eyes widening again.
“Sure,” I said. “You got everything right, go ahead and hit it.” She squealed with delight, voicing a massive ‘vwoosh!’ sound effect as she activated the ship’s gravity stream engine.
2
Six hours later, the gravity engines released their hold on the ship and all the light trapped by the driving singularity flashed brightly, announcing its escape. “This is the HMS Vermillion to Hadrian control, please come in.”
There was a pop and three ticks on the radio before a voice came through. “Affirmative Vermillion, we hear you loud and clear. We’re dealing with unusually high docking traffic due to the current situation. Please proceed to docking with the HMS Veritas.”
“Negative Hadrian control, I have orders to meet with Count Johnson immediately.”
“Affirmative Captain Grumman, Count Johnson is aboard the Veritas. It’s serving as the command platform for the time being. Prepare for communications transfer.” There was another three ticks on the radio.
“HMS Veritas to Vermillion, please come in,” a voice said on the comm.
“This is captain Grumman,” I said. “Go ahead.”
“Please follow transmitted instructions; our docking control will take it from there.” The instructions came through, and as I expected they were short and curt. ‘Remain stationary, grav-docking control will engage in twenty seconds.’ The military made docking easy; meaning that they took control.
The Veritas wasn’t nearly as large or as heavily armed as the Yosemite, but it was sleek. The Veritas was one of the first Claymore class vessels designed specifically for the war faring noble, and Count Johnson was certainly a war faring noble. He had earned his rank and title in the Phoenix war, the first and only Imperial war to date, when we had driven the Tarin’Tal from Lintalla and freed the Illani people, unifying with the natives to create the Empire. The Veritas was long, smooth, and oh-so-deadly. From below and above it did indeed appear to be the ro
ugh outline of a Claymore sword, but its cut was filled with fire and plasma and could cleave whole warships in a cleansing conflagration.
3
The ship’s gravity shifted slightly as the airlock engaged and the Vermillion synchronized its internal gravity with that of the Veritas and the airlock opened. “Captain Grumman, I am Lt. Carson. Please follow me,” he stated in typical, professional military fashion; this was a noble’s starship after all. We made our way through the opulent furnishings and expansive arsenals that made up the interior of the ship. Its guns were flush with the exterior of the craft, evenly distributed between forward and broadside facing. The ship was a true predator capable of annihilating warships many times her size.
“Ah, Captain Grumman. I see you came through Tatiana’s assignment relatively unscathed. How was your stay on Crypta?” Count Johnson put out his hand.
“Eventful,” I said, clasping his forearm and giving a slight head-nod. Suzie kept silent, too busy drinking in the sights and sounds of the command warship to ask questions.
“So I hear,” he said. “As per your letter of marque I would like to enlist your help for another mission. Are you up for it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” I said. “If it’s anything like the last gig I’ll be glad for the extra cash.”
“Well,” Count Johnson began, “if it’s cash you are after you’re in luck. This pays fifty denarii.”
“At that rate you either want me to transport dangerous or sensitive cargo or it’s a long term assignment,” I said.
“You do know your business,” the count said, touching the ship’s central holographic display, causing it to show a small planet with extremely dense civilization for Pox space. “This is New Croatia. Yesterday morning their sensors detected a single spireship, twelve juggernauts, and seventy assorted capital ships entering high orbit. This isn’t enough firepower to take the planet and New Croatia has extensive antiaircraft installations, so the Tarin’Tal fleet cannot approach to effective bombardment range without extensive retaliation.”
“It’s a siege,” I offered.
The Count nodded. “Yes. Unfortunately for the planet’s twenty million inhabitants, we don’t have enough forces in Hadrian or Pox Space to break the siege at this time and protect even a fraction of our vital assets.”
“So where do we factor into this? I asked.”
“This is Mr. Gifford. He’s a long term strategist and trained in long term siege survival.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.
“Likewise,” I replied, giving his hand a good shake before turning back to the count.
“So we get him past that blockade and to the planet?” I asked.
“Basically,” he agreed. “But it’s going to take some doing.” I grunted in agreement.
“The HMS Hosho, HNS Takao, and the HMS Relentless will be accompanying you to the drop point here.” The view narrowed at a point in space above the planet’s main populated continent. “The Relentless is a Gilmore class assault vessel, courtesy of the McCollack Clans. You will ride in their underbelly landing bay. Unless we’ve either grossly underestimated the enemy forces, the task force will be engaged somewhere between the L5 and L2 orbital positions, at which point they will release the Vermillion, which is to proceed to the planet’s surface.”
The count turned to the big man next to him with a woad tattoo above his right eye. “Your mission is not to attain orbital supremacy. I don’t want to see any unnecessary heroics. Drop the Vermillion and disengage.”
“Aye,” the Scotsman nodded. The two Ishikawan Captains flanking the McCollack nodded and smirked, as if to say ‘don’t worry; we’ll keep him in line.’
Johnson turned back to me. “Once you reach the surface you are to remain there until four hours from the drop point. At which time the task force will reengage the Tarin’Tal forces here.” The display spun and zoomed in on a ring of Tarin’Tal ships around a central supply hub. It was one of three support vessels other than the massive Spireship the aliens were using to maintain the siege.
“Destruction of the depot is not a primary mission objective, but if you are provided the opportunity please do so.”
“I like this,” the lead Ishikawan Captain said. “After running the blockade only hours before they will not be expecting a direct assault.”
“Exactly,” Count Johnson agreed. “Strike the depot, retrieve the Vermillion and get home, but not in that order.”
“Understood,” each of the captains said in succession.
“Good, dismissed and happy hunting.” The Count was a busy man and as soon as one of his many aids determined his conversation was over he was swamped by a dozen people with paperwork, requests, or reports.
“I’ll see you aboard the Relentless,” the McCollack captain said. “I’m Miles Mason, by the way.”
“Captain Grumman,” I said. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise.”
4
It didn’t take long to get the Vermillion stationed in the drop compartment aboard the Relentless. “Welcome aboard!” Captain Mason greeted us personally as the airlock opened. “How about I give you the grand tour of m’ah fine ship?”
Suzie squealed in delight. “Can I see the cannons!? I’ve never seen real artillery cannons before!”
“Why, certainly, lassie!” Captain Mason said. “Why, I remember my first time abo…” His voice began to trail off as he disappeared down the long corridor. I had to run to catch up after double-checking the latch locks. Mason was certainly proud of his ship; in fact, he had been on the design team for the ship. This job had mostly been advisory due to his experience in both engineering and combat roles during the Phoenix War.
His tour ended as we reached the crew’s main dining leave lounge. It was an entire floor of the starship broken only by structural walls and private facilities. The McCollack were intense people; they worked hard, they fought hard, and they certainly played hard. The ship had almost an acre of exercise equipment, a twenty-four hour kitchen, a swimming pool, and even its own miniature gladiatorial arena.
“So, feel free to help yourself to any of the food,” Mason rumbled as we reached a buffet line spilling over with large quantities of roast meats, vegetables, and potatoes.
“Wow, a cliché meal if I ever saw one.”
“Yeah,” Mason agreed. “But the young lady seems to like it.” I looked down to see Suzie’s smiling face looking up at me. She already had a plate overflowing with about twenty slices of roast beef.
“Do you seriously plan on eating all that?” She nodded vigorously.
“Where do you plan on putting that?” I asked.
“My tummy!” she loudly responded.
Mason burst out laughing. “I believe you will lassie. A fine Clanswoman you’ll be at that rate. You’ll grow big and strong.”
“Aye,” a woman said as she got behind us at the buffet. “Why, when I was yer age me mah said I ate an ‘orse a day. I dunna know about that. But something made me the woman I am today.” The woman looked proportional next to Mason but the bicep she was showing off was a good fifty percent bigger than a lot of men I’ve known.
“Aye Jane,” Mason said. “You’ve always been a big one.”
“Only next ‘ta the blueless. Me ma could’ve whooped me hide any day ‘o te week.” I noticed her accent was a lot heavier than Mason’s, which made me wonder if he was a first generation clansman or if she was simply more immersed in their culture.
“How did you and your ship end up in the Count’s forward forces?” I asked as we sat down at one of the long tables by a big window. I could see the edges of a blast door along the exterior surface that would lock down in the case of a battle.
“Quite simple really,” the captain began. “We had finished our first round of trial runs and delivered our reports to central. Apparently the shipyards didn’t think our trials were intensive enough and frankly I had to agree. We
were about to enter pox space for another round of joint operations with the Alliance military, or what they call a military. After that we were going to cruise deeper into the distorted space along the rim. Riding the effects of a black hole would put the ship’s detractors to rest.”
“And then a war got in the way,” I said.
“Exactly,” he agreed over a mouthful of food. He swallowed before continuing. “Not that I’m complaining. I couldn’t ask for a better proving ground than a few shoving matches with a bunch o’ ‘Tal.”
“In fact, it’ll be the perfect test of the new system integrations net.”
“She designed it,” the captain said.
“Aye,” she said. “My pride an’ joy.”
“Well, it’d have to be. It got you out o’ the dusty design tables and ship yards and into the deep dark of space.” A spoon hit Mason square in the forehead.
“Hey!” she shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with the ship yard,” she said. “It’s a noble profession.”
“Oi!” Mason said defensively. “I never said it wasn’t. It’s just not healthy to stay in and out of the field all ‘yer life. There’s a certain level of engineering that can only be learned from practical application.”
“Oh,” the clanswoman’s jaw cocked slightly. “Well that’s true.” I realized that no one had introduced us to the young woman.
“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms.-?” I let my sentence trail off, prompting Mason to fill in for me.
“This fine lassie is Euan Docherty. Pride of her family and a mighty fine systems engineer. She’s my apprentice and third officer.”
“Pleasure to meet ye,” she said over a bit of food. “Sorry if I seem a’h bit rude. “I avent eaten all day.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “I know I’m an angry grizzly when I don’t get enough food.”
“True that!” she thundered, tearing into another side of beef.
5
The trip to New Croatia was relatively uneventful and very refreshing. The great part of the McCollack was that they were the most laid back people I’d ever met, other than bar bums and ranch hands on Sh’in. Their philosophy of life demanded a high amount of personal excellence without imposing that on others. The end result was a culture of people that were useful in a fight, savvy in business, and great fun to be around.
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