“Sad,” she said. “And you’re a Fleet officer? No wonder the Empire continues to pose such a threat to the Belt. Don’t have a brain in the bunch, do you?”
He scowled at her.
“Sit down,” she said. He paused mid-pace.
“Why?”
“To hear my offer.”
Ah. Negotiation. He took a seat.
“I’ll tell you what you didn’t know you were missing,” she said. “And you’ll give me back my ship. You’ll let me go, free, you won’t follow us, we won’t follow you—a stalemate.”
He pursed his lips, considering. It was really better than anything he could have hoped for—assuming her intel was good. He wasn’t sure he believed her that Taurius had ulterior motives, but either way, they had to get him back before they could answer to the Council. He was their charge.
He stood, showed her that his holster was empty, and opened her cell as a sign of good faith.
“Alright,” he said. “Talk.”
—
An hour later they were zipping away from the inner belt, heading back in-system, toward Mars. Lucas had taken his place on the bridge. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and he didn’t feel like he would be able to fully rest and recover until they had Taurius back on board. Still, it was an immense relief to be back and to be moving. He called up engineering on his comm.
“Adams, how’s that shiny new core treating you?”
The engineer growled back. “She’s neither shiny nor new, as I suspect you know, Captain, but she’s getting the job done. She’s a horse, no doubt about that.”
“Good to hear. We’ve had another change of plans and won’t be heading back to the Colonies just yet. Think she’ll get us through a little more flying out here?”
Adams cursed, then regained composure. “Aye, Sir, the core’ll be fine, as will the ship. Those pirates may been the scum of the system, but they know a thing or two about nuclear fission.”
Lucas smirked, wondering how the pirate ship was fairing without propulsion. He’d made good on his end of the deal; they’d returned their prisoners to their vessel and let them be, but he’d never mentioned that they had pilfered their engine core. No matter. Unlike when the pirates had left the Fairfax marooned on the fringes of the system, the pirate ship was floating about in known space, near a large hab, with plenty of other ships nearby. He had no doubt they would walk away from the crippled ship just fine.
The bridge doors hissed open and Caspar walked in. “Good to see you up and about, Lieutenant.” Lucas nodded at her. She gave a brief salute, then took her post. The doors opened again and Darren stepped inside.
“We’re not going to Titan,” he said.
“No.” Lucas turned to look at his console, punching in a command to put their new coordinates on-screen. “You were right about getting intel from the pirates.”
Darren’s eyebrow twitched.
“Right about the intel, I said—not about the method.” Lucas gazed at the screen. “According to them, Taurius is not all he appears to be. And he’s babysitting something we had right under our noses, until it was stolen from us.”
“The nukes?” Caspar turned, facing him.
“When did you run your last top-down munitions inspection here, Lieutenant?”
She flushed. “Just before we left the Colonies, Sir. Captain Harris wasn’t concerned about rotating inspections, since we were flying under a truce.”
Lucas nodded. “It wasn’t the nukes they were after. It was what was hidden in the casings.”
Caspar sat back, deflated. “We were never armed?”
“It was a setup all along. We were a bunch of glorified drug-mules without ever knowing.”
The doors opened again, and Tompkins and Mulligan strolled in.
“Drugs?” Caspar’s brow furrowed.
“Not just drugs,” Lucas said. “The drug. Prophet.”
“Whoa.” Tompkins walked to the vacant gunner station and took a seat. “Isn’t that stuff illegal, like… everywhere?”
Caspar scoffed. “A kilo of Prophet could buy the Fairfax twice over. If all our nuke casings were full of the stuff—”
“Then we were hauling a legitimate fortune,” Lucas said. “The kind that buys peace. Or war.”
“Yeah, but, you know—” Tompkins gestured with his hands in the air. “Illegally.”
“So you said.”
“So,” Mulligan tucked a stray strand of red hair back. “We hauled it to Ceres without knowing?”
“Technically we followed it to Ceres without knowing,” Lucas said, “since the pirates relieved us of it when they shot up the Fairfax.”
“But they must have had people there who knew about it, who arranged to have it on board,” she said. “You think it was the Holubs or the Amsel Brothers?”
“Neither,” Darren said. Lucas turned to look at him. As usual, he stood with his arms crossed, his voice quiet.
“Then who?”
“Judging by our coordinates, you know that already.”
“Yes, but please.” Lucas spread a hand out toward him. “Enlighten the rest of us.”
Caspar snorted. “We’re heading inward. It’s the Empire.”
Tompkins whistled. “Glad I got my affairs in order before I signed on back in the Colonies.”
Lucas frowned. The same thoughts had been rolling in his mind. Was it foolhardy to plunge in-system without a go-ahead from the Council, or any warning to Earth forces? But then he answered himself that they had just passed by Mars a week before to pick up Taurius in the first place. And if Taurius was a victim here, and had been traded along with the Prophet, then the Empire’s interest lay in his rescue anyway. If Taurius was up to something traitorous to his government, then his punishment lay before them, too. And if, in a worst-case scenario, he was acting only as their tool, and it was the Empire who had used the Fairfax for nefarious ends under the pretense of peace, then it was before the Council that Taurius should answer.
In any case, they needed to retrieve him.
“So we’re heading for Mars,” Caspar said.
Lucas nodded.
“Well, that’ll be a few days, Sir.” Tompkins stretched his back and cracked his fingers. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking on a massive alien invasion in the meantime?”
Lucas smiled. “I’d love to. Lieutenant Caspar, would you do the honors?”
“Sir.” She began to call up the modded sim.
“War games?” Darren asked, an eyebrow lifted.
“Shh.” Mulligan left his side for the comm station. “Only stay if you’re going to help.”
Lucas settled back into the chair, and, for the first time, he liked the feel of it.
The End
The Hidden Prophet
The Hidden Prophet
Book 2 of The Starship Fairfax
The Kuiper Chronicles
By Benjamin Douglas
Copyright 2017 Benjamin Douglas. All rights reserved.
The author’s permission is required for any reprinting, distribution, or recording of this content.
All persons within are fictional and not intended to be representative of any real persons.
Books in The Starship Fairfax Series:
0.5 The Trials of Io (newsletter prequel)
0.75 Totaled (another prequel story)
1. The Lunar Gambit
2. The Hidden Prophet
3. The Neptune Contingency
4. The Star Wizard (coming soon)
5. The Sons of Jupiter (coming soon)
Chapter 1
The bridge was quiet. Not a calm, restful quiet, but a tense uncertainty. The lights were low, a faint bluish glow emanating from screens at each console, lighting up the faces of the Fairfax crew. Lucas Odin looked up from his own console at the captain’s chair and ran a quick mental inspection. They were worried, yes. As well they should be. It had been a full day since they’d left Ceres in the inner belt and headed inward
, into the heart of the Old Earth Empire, longtime enemies of the Kuiper Colonies. They were flying in a time of truce, but the peace was tenuous, and they had permission neither from the Empire nor from the Kuiper Fleet to move back into Empire space.
It was fraught with risk. But after losing their captain, tangling with the mafia, and finding out from pirates that they’d had a fortune in illegal drugs stolen out from under their noses without even knowing they were muling them across the system in the first place, Lucas was unwilling to take ship or crew back to the Belt without their official charge, Ambassador Taurius.
Sock, the Ship’s Operating Computer, beeped and announced a ship ahead. Lucas pulled up scanners on his console and watched as a tiny blip drew closer to their position.
“Steady, Randall.” He did his best to keep the edge out of his voice. He didn’t succeed.
The helmsman nodded. “Sir.”
Lucas threw the front cam up on the viewscreen, and a tiny outline blurred against the stars. It grew bigger, catching some light and betraying the dull gray metal of a ship’s hull.
“Who are you, girl?” Lucas bit on the flesh inside his cheek. The crew stared at the viewscreen, everyone holding their breath.
“Gatling-class, Sir.” Mulligan was staring at her console, her hands flying as data crawled across her screen. “ID says she’s a Privateer, registered as a special liason to Empire Fleet Forces.”
“Special liason?” Lucas mumbled. “I hope your code works, Lieutenant.”
Caspar spared him a glance from behind her station, ahead of him and on his right. “It’ll work, Sir.” She’d programed Sock with a ship ID mask that should prevent scanners from recognizing the Fairfax as Kuiper Fleet. Hopefully. Lucas shook his head. He had to trust Caspar, or he couldn’t trust anyone. Her official title may have been head munitions officer, but the Lieutenant was a veritable wealth of knowledge and ability. She was his think-tank, and had become his right hand in the days since the captain had been killed.
Lucas frowned. He really needed to get used to thinking of himself as the captain. Captain Harris was gone. Captain Odin was needed. But even though he’d seen his young crew through a few scrapes already, confidence still wasn’t his strong suit.
Suppose I’ll have to fake it till I make it, he thought.
The doors hissed open behind him, and he turned his head to catch a tall figure slip in and attach itself to the back wall without making a sound.
Darren.
The man moved like a cat. Which was impressive, given his considerable build. Lucas frowned, debating in his mind for what felt like the hundredth time whether or not Darren should be trusted to roam the ship freely. His unique level of combat skill raised uncomfortable questions when he came from a planetoid run by the mafia, surrounded by pirates, and currently under the influence of the Arms of the Sons, a ruthless, elite marine force loyal to the Empire. Darren’s affiliations, other than the two-way loyalty he shared with Mulligan, remained unknown. Lucas was well aware he may be doing the stupid thing by not locking him up and demanding answers—or at least confining him to quarters. But part of him also knew that Darren wasn’t the sort to be stopped by a confinement order, or to talk under pressure, anyway. Whoever he was, he was who he was, and the gamble had been made. He was onboard.
“Trouble?” His voice was low but commanding. Lucas’ frown deepened. He didn’t like being commanded by someone not in his chain of command.
“Not just yet. Be sure to call you if we need some necks broken, though.”
Darren might have sniffed. Or Lucas may have imagined it.
“Livefeed coming over, Captain,” Mulligan said. She peered at her console while keying in a command.
“Put it up.” Lucas took a deep breath and blinked as the screen flared to a bright image from the bridge of the Gatling Privateer. The man sitting in the center was very, very short. He seemed to be trying to compensate by putting as much oily hair up in a bun on top of his head as possible. On the bridge of the Fairfax, someone stifled a giggle.
“Unidentified ship,” the man began in a pinched, nasal voice. A few more giggles threatened to break out. Lucas flashed Caspar a look. Unidentified? So the mask hid their Kuiper association, but hadn’t manufactured a replacement? Great. “This is Captain Dild of the Privateer Rancher, special liason to the Fleet. State your name, your ship’s name, affiliation, and business.”
Lucas scrunched his eyebrows. He glanced at Caspar again. She shrugged, her mouth hanging open. Dild waited in silence.
“Ah, ahhhh…um.” Lucas grimaced at himself. Think!
“Karen?” Dild called over his shoulder to one of his officers. “Is our translator on the fritz again?”
Mulligan, apparently the offender all along, finally lost control and let out a guffaw. She had the good grace to try to mask it with a little coughing fit immediately after. Lucas glanced her way, drawn to the sound, and saw Darren arrive at her side and plug something into her console, then type furiously for a few seconds. He turned and stood at attention.
“Captain,” he said.
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Scan complete. ID, personnel, and cargo of the Rancher confirmed. Shall I decode our ID now?”
Decode their ID? And let the Empire Fleet know that they had flown a Kuiper flagship deep into their territory? Was he losing his mind?
Subtly, Darren winked.
“Ah!” Lucas cleared his throat. “Very good! Yes, very good, ah, ensign.” Darren spared a short glare at the rank. “Decode for the Rancher to scan.”
Darren swiped once more at the console. On the screen, there was a little flurry of activity as officers on the Rancher’s bridge gathered around their communications station. Captain Dild glanced down at his own console, then stood, saluting. The bun of hair jiggled.
“Sir!” He barked. This time even Lucas had to bite his lips. “Forgive the impertinence, Sir! Please allow us the honor of joining your escort, Sir!”
Their escort? Lucas glanced again at Caspar. She was smirking.
“We will pull into formation portside and follow at five hundred, Sir. Dild out!” He saluted so forcefully that his greasy bun snapped loose, dark wet strands slapping down around his head. The screen went back to exterior cam view.
Lucas turned to Darren. “What did you do?”
“He thinks you’re Empire brass. Doesn’t matter though. Just a short-burst code, probably wouldn’t have fooled anyone else. They pull in to five hundred meters and they’re going to lose it, maybe even get a glimpse at your actual ID.”
Caspar shifted in her seat. “He’s right, Sir. I can’t guarantee the mask will fool anyone at that range.”
“Great.” Lucas held his head in his hands. It was just one thing after another anymore. How could they shirk the hero-worship and convince Dild to keep his distance?
“Sir, another ship.” Mulligan swiped some more at her console.
“Sock, scan on screen.”
“Order confirmed,” Sock’s generically pleasant voice announced from overhead. “Canned long beans.” The dispenser beside the captain’s chair beeped, and a little door popped open to reveal an ancient looking can of long-cut green beans. It was a sometimes interesting side effect of their having hacked into Sock through the dispensers a few weeks before to install some mods to the battle simulators. Mods that may have technically broken a few rules, but had seemed worth it at the time. Lucas groaned.
“Maybe we can fend Dild off with this.” He took the can and set it in his drink holder.
“Unidentified ship arming missiles,” Sock calmly announced.
“Unidentified? Mulligan, what’s their ID say?”
Caspar spun. “Sir, missiles.”
“Right. Arm counteroffensive, ready on my mark.”
Caspar raised her hand. Lucas sighed. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, we don’t have any missiles left. Remember?”
Right. That’s where all the Prophe
t had been stashed. That’s how pirates had taken it from them in the first place—they’d staged a stick-up, making it seem like they just wanted ordnance. Now, how that much of an illegal compound had gotten into the Fairfax missiles in the first place… that was an interesting question.
“ID is blank, Sir.” Mulligan was frowning.
“Sock, have they targeted us?”
“Negative, Sir. Unidentified ship is targeting the Gatling.”
“We should go,” Darren said quietly.
Lucas glanced at the screen, running the scenario though his head. Gatling class ships were on the small side, armed enough for dogfights and big enough for long-range flying, but nothing more than that. The Rancher didn’t look like she was packing anything beyond what one would expect for a dogfighter. But the other ship, which had now ambled into view, was another story. She was big. He didn’t recognize the body—might have been custom, he supposed, if Sock didn’t know either. But he could clearly see extra turrets and launchers mounted all over the hull. If the Fairfax left now, the Rancher didn’t stand a chance.
The problem was, he couldn’t see how the Fairfax stood one, either.
“She’ll tear us apart, Captain.” Caspar’s voice was grim.
“I know. But—”
Without warning, a livefeed took over the screen. Lucas glanced at Mulligan. Her hands were up, her eyes wide as she stared at her console. Whatever had happened, she’d had no warning, either.
The view of the bridge on this ship was much different than that from the Rancher. The mood was dark, with red and orange station lights bouncing off the ceiling. A tall figure reclined in the seat, his hands resting on the arms. He leaned forward into the light, revealing a bald head over a terribly scarred face. It looked as though at some point half of it had burned away. A simple black patch was strapped over one eye.
“Hello.” His voice was a cold, sickly rasp. Lucas was beginning to miss Captain Dild already. “Enemy ships, you have had the great misfortune to fly across my path. Therefore, you are my enemies. You will now be destroyed or commandeered. My choice. Let’s see which.” The screen flicked back to cam view. The hulking ship loomed closer.
Starship Fairfax: Books 1-3 Omnibus - The Kuiper Chronicles: The Lunar Gambit, The Hidden Prophet, The Neptune Contingency Page 12
