Orion Fleet (Rebel Fleet Series Book 2)

by B. V. Larson

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Admiral,” I said turning around and feeling for the door. It clicked open and yawned wide. “Maybe it’s best we go then. Abrams?”

  Abrams looked at me in confusion. Normally, he would have said something smart-ass, but I think he’d been cowed by the Kher base. He followed me without doing more than frown at me.

  “Where are you going?” Fex demanded.

  “We’re following your orders, Admiral,” I said. “Heading back to our ship. We can’t be bothering a strategic thinker who’s about to end this war in our favor. That would be suicide.”

  Fex glared at me for a moment, then he gestured impatiently for me to come back to his desk.

  “Get back here and tell me what’s on your mind,” he ordered.

  “Are you sure, sir? I thought some pearl of wisdom was about to sprout from—”

  “Shut up with the sarcasm, or I’ll order Ursahn to stage an all-hands rank-confirmation event.”

  Abrams looked highly alarmed at this threat, and I couldn’t blame him.

  Shrugging, I closed the doors, and they snicked into place, forming a seamless vista of the Orion Front.

  “Let me come right to the point, Admiral,” I said. “We recently encountered three carriers—a small force by any measure—deep in our territory along the Orion Front. That was unexpected.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought the enemy was now operating solely through a large machine-manned, doomsday ship.”

  “The automated Hunter?” he asked. “They’re using one on the front lines, but they still have supporting ships to deploy it.”

  “Supporting ships…” Abrams said, speaking up in a thoughtful voice. “You mean to scout targets? To maintain control and supply lines?”

  Fex aimed a long finger at Abrams. “Who is this…creature?”

  “This is Dr. Abrams,” I said. “An earth scientist who specializes in space exploration and warfare.”

  Fex snorted. “Really? I take it he built your single warship, then?”

  “I did,” Abrams said.

  “May I point out that the ship he built managed to destroy an Imperial carrier?” I asked.

  Fex narrowed his eyes. “That didn’t escape me. That’s the sole reason, in fact, that you’re still here.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, “I know that you wanted humans in this fight. That you thought—”

  “You’ve already failed,” Fex snapped. “I sent Ursahn out to bring you back into our service. The purpose was to get your system of hacking Imperial ships working again. From the reports I’ve read, you didn’t even try to do so during your first encounter.”

  Suddenly, I was beginning to understand his hostility. He’d expected me to pull another rabbit out my hat and hack the Imperials despite their new precautions. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint,” I said. “But you have to understand, the only reason I was able to hack their ships before was because they were entirely undefended against that kind of attack. They’ve obviously retreated, regrouped, and updated their software. Now, they’ve returned with ships I can’t simply grab hold of by spamming them with unencrypted transmissions.”

  Fex shook his head.

  “We’d hoped…” he said, then stopped. “All right then. As long as you’re here, we might as well discuss the new situation—although I highly doubt it will do us any good.”

  He proceeded to lay out strategic maps in three dimensions. The Orion Front was a large volume of space, some five thousand lightyears at the extremes, which contained hundreds of inhabited star systems. On our astronomical charts, it was part of what we called the Orion Spur, a flange of space densely populated by stars. Like our star, Sol, it was part of the larger Cygnus Carina spiral arm.

  But, for all its relative insignificance in stellar volume, the Orion Front had apparently given birth to us all. The Orion cluster was a dusty region that hatched new stars, and the people who lived there were both fierce and ancient.

  They were known to us as the Imperial Kher, a race that came out periodically from a restful state to wantonly destroy other civilizations—all of which were colonies of less-accomplished Kher.

  No one knew exactly why they did this every thousand years, but it was a legendary event every time it happened.

  “Here’s the pathetic sun you call Sol,” Fex said, zooming to where we could see our yellowish dwarf star. “The nearest beacon is Rigel. Straight on past Rigel, we come to Epsilon Aurigae—an F-class supergiant. It’s nearby, and it’s the beacon star that denotes the edge of the Orion Front.”

  I followed along easily, as did Dr. Abrams. Unlike most Earthlings, we’d developed a good grasp of local astronomical landmarks.

  “Here is where the trouble began, near this fortress. They struck a series of worlds—or rather, they sent their automated Hunter to do so for them.”

  “Why haven’t they hit any of the fortresses yet?” I asked. “Like this one?”

  “Why bother? They know where helpless civilians live. They’ve been making deep strikes in our territory instead, bypassing this useless line of forts. They prefer to destroy a star system at random and vanish before we can arrive with a fleet.”

  “And that task force of three carriers that we met up with,” I said, “that was a scouting mission for them?”

  “Yes,” Fex said, “presumably.”

  “Have you tried to lay ambushes for this automated monster ship?” I asked. “Posting a large force at a likely target and waiting for them to show up?”

  “We’ve thought about it, but the Rebel Fleet is only now straggling to the front lines. These new attacks were unexpected—unprecedented. We’ve completely demobilized. The Imperials didn’t wait for their customary thousand years—it’s been less than two since the last attack.”

  I wasn’t going to follow up on that comment, but Abrams didn’t know any better.

  “Why do you think that is?” he asked. “Why this sudden change in such a long-standing behavioral pattern?”

  Fex hooded his eyes with heavily wrinkled lids. He directed a crooked finger at me.

  “There’s your culprit! You’re standing right next to him. Blake embarrassed the Imperials, actually defeating them, rather than wearing them down. Now, they’ve decided to finish us off once and for all.”

  “You mean… genocide?” Abrams asked. “Against all the Rebel Kher?”

  Fex nodded tiredly. “We’re a threat now. Before, we were like beasts in the forest. Fun to hunt, nothing more. We served as lively entertainment for young captains in old ships that were joy-riding on training missions. But we weren’t supposed to win. We were supposed to sting them until they grew tired of the sport and went back to sleep.”

  Abrams looked at me. “I don’t recall these details in your reports.”

  I shrugged. “It’s all sheer speculation,” I said. “Including such unsubstantiated material would have been a theoretical exercise.”

  Abrams eyed me with what I interpreted to be a touch of horror.

  “Well…” Fex said, “it doesn’t matter. I’m giving you and your crew a special mission. A deep penetration into enemy territory. Just the kind of adventure you crave, Blake.”

  “Uh… thanks,” I managed.

  “Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have all the details for you. We’ll make such a hero out of you this time, the Ruling Council won’t be able to deny that you’re a true prodigy.

  =25=

  We left Fex’s office without having made a single useful suggestion of our own.

  The problem was they’d already done what they could. They’d called in their dispersed forces, summoning them back to the front. They’d manned their fortresses, set ambushes—and they’d been completely ignored.

  Even the new mustering process wasn’t going well. The individual planets involved seemed to feel they’d already met their obligations just a short while ago. They were slow to se
nd new ships, new crews. On a hundred homeworlds, parents were no doubt complaining about suiting up their young and sending them back into the grinder.

  After returning to our ship, I cautiously allowed shifts of personnel shore leave onto the station to explore. They were carefully briefed on etiquette, and we made sure they all had syms in their bloodstreams before they stepped off Hammerhead’s decks.

  Even so, I felt nervous about allowing it. Quite a few of our people were civilians, like Abrams. They’d get a rough education if any of the locals decided to take them on.

  “You can’t coddle them forever,” Gwen said, divining my thoughts.

  “I know—but it seems unfair. Some of them are so excited and starry-eyed.”

  “That’s true, but we didn’t get a honeymoon time like that. We were beaten down and desperate by the time we reached a Kher ship. To my mind that was more unfair than what these people are going to go through.”

  I glanced at her thoughtfully. We had a strange relationship, Gwen and I. We’d had a few brief affairs, making love a few times, then going our separate ways. Perhaps if we’d met under less tumultuous circumstances, we’d have had a chance as a couple, but—

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “The answer is ‘no,’” she said firmly. “Sorry, Leo.”

  “Uh… okay.”

  “You should go try your luck with that PR girl, Robin.”

  “Robin? Oh… yeah. She’s aboard, isn’t she? Haven’t seen her much on this trip.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Like you really didn’t know she was around. I’m going my own way now. I saw Robin heading to the commissary here on this station, in case you didn’t know.”

  I tried not to look interested. “You did, huh?”

  Gwen smiled at me. “As far as I know, she went alone. Maybe she’ll need some help. Maybe some turtles are trying to bash her head in right now. You’d better go over there and check.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  We parted ways, and the second she was out of my sight I headed to the commissary. The only place you could get a drink on this station was in the commissary. Not all Kher had discovered alcohol, and of those who had, some had outlawed it, or were allergic to it. In any case, it was rarely distributed in the Rebel Fleet. Given the natural aggressiveness of most Kher, that was probably a good thing.

  When I found the place, it was the closest thing to a dive bar that could be found on a space station. There were Kher present, several different flavors of them. Most were primates like myself. We seemed to like booze the most.

  Robin was there, circled by three curious creatures. They looked like orangutans, but without any hair on them at all. Robin, true to form, was smiling at them and seemed to be enjoying the attention.

  One big fellow had his fingers wrapped up in her hair. I didn’t like that. Sure, this could just be a cross-species thing, but then again, it could be a setup for a takedown. Primates were really tricky, just like the pure predator-types said we were.

  “Hey there, Robin!” I said in jovial voice. “I’ve been looking for you. You’re needed back on the ship.”

  She looked at me in confusion for a second—or was she drunk? I wasn’t sure.

  The guy with his finger in her hair was sure about his motives, however. He wound up a big curl in his fist, pulling Robin’s head in his direction.

  “Hey!” she complained, spilling her drink and tilting her head awkwardly.

  I was instantly pissed off. Call it a protective instinct, whatever you like, I was ready to fight.

  “Ape, you’d better—” I began, approaching the group.

  Robin held up her hand to me and caught my eye. She gave me the flat palm of her hand, the universal symbol to stop. I did so with difficulty.

  “Roog?” she asked sweetly. “Could you let me have my hair back? Please?”

  Roog slowly relented. She smiled at him, and he showed her a mouthful of crooked yellow stumps in return.

  “Come join us, Leo,” Robin said. “Roog is buying. He’s very generous.”

  Roog seemed to be swelling with pride. The other two companions of his leaned forward and shook their heads, but he ignored them.

  “Yes,” he said, “the famous Blake-thing must join us. I insist!”

  Warily, I sat with the group. Roog ordered something that stank and tasted sickly-sweet. I drank it, and my throat was on fire afterward. I couldn’t breathe. The alcohol content had to be at least fifty percent.

  Soon, Roog’s drink was gone, and it was my turn to order a round. I chose a vodka-like booze mixed with something fruity—these primates had to have it sweet.

  They tested the concoction and approved.

  Robin leaned toward me, and her breath washed over me. She didn’t seem utterly wasted, however. Like many reporters, she could hold her liquor.

  “They’ve got interesting news about the enemy,” she said.

  Could that be it? Could she be pumping them for information? It seemed strange and dangerous, but it also was a role that would come naturally to Robin. Out here in space, we certainly didn’t need a PR girl—but we could always use a good spy.

  “Roog,” I said conversationally. “I like a man who likes a drink. Kher such as us have to work together, we are like brothers!”

  That was the kind of talk I’d heard before among primates, and it seemed to work this time.

  “You speak the truth that cannot be questioned!” he said.

  That was the first time I caught the full blasting torrent of Roog’s breath. It about curled my toes. Booze, rot and some kind of sharp stink I didn’t even want to identify. How was Robin withstanding it, sitting in a pawing circle of three of them? Her dedication impressed me.

  “Then, brother, talk to me,” I said. “What do you know of events here on the Orion Front?”

  “You spoke with Fex,” he said. “You know more than I do.”

  I shook my head. “Fex doesn’t love me. He gives me scraps. I know our ships wait here at these fortresses, but the enemy avoids them. That isn’t like the Imperials. They never run from a fight.”

  Roog shot a single brown finger skyward.

  “You make a poor assumption!” he said. “They aren’t running, they are probing. They’re unusually cautious, it’s true. As I understand it, that’s because of you, Blake.”

  “Well…” I said with a shrug. “I came up with a few tricks the last time they attacked us, that’s all. Anyone could have done that. You could have done it, Roog. I can tell you’re a smart one.”

  That really seemed to please him. I got the feeling that praise was a rare thing to come across among the Kher. They were always shocked to hear it, especially from someone who wasn’t from their home planet.

  “You humans are amazing,” he said. “I can’t fathom why so many hate you so much. You’re friendly and very discerning.”

  “That we are, Roog. Now, could you tell me something I don’t know about the situation out here? I’m sure you’re aware of things no one else knows about.”

  Roog slewed his bloodshot eyes from side to side, to see who was listening, I supposed. There were no drones, not even those insectile ones. He leaned close, and I reluctantly leaned my ear toward him.

  “The Imperials aren’t here to do open battle,” he said. “They’re here to kill humans!”

  That stung. I looked at him, and he showed open delight.

  “You should be prideful beyond belief,” he told me. “Many primates think you should be promoted to the admiralty—possibly after the Imperials kill you, of course. The problem is just as many think you should be slain and handed over to the Imperials as a peace-offering. The debates rage!”

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably, and my smile now required an effort of will to maintain.

  “Is that so?” I asked. “Which camp is Fex from?”

  “Him? He wants you off his station, naturally. Once Imperials learn ther
e is a phase-ship here, and that a phase-ship drove off three carriers—well, they’ll suspect who is flying that filthy vessel. They will come here to find you.”

  “Ah…” I said, trying to think. “And how would the Imperials get this information?”

  Roog spread his long dark fingers broadly. “We sent it to them, of course. But after talking to you, I almost regret it. Your woman here will be hard to replace. Her skin is as pale as that of a worm, but she is so soft and smooth…”

  Roog went back to pawing at Robin again, so I knew it was time to act. I stood up and walked out of the bar.

  Robin stared after me in astonishment, and I left her there gaping among her three infatuated amigos.

  Out in the hallway, I took several deep breaths, then I used my sym to connect to the local PA system. I paged through it, looking for something an officer could trigger locally without causing too much trouble.

  There was a fire alarm system—unguarded, password-free. I engaged it and waited.

  An odd, whooping noise began, and the floor in the bar changed colors. It was yellow inside now, and green outside in the passages. That was the signal the passages were safe and the bar itself was a danger.

  The patrons reacted in a predictable fashion, scrambling out of the place. They piled over one another to get out, with Roog’s companions leading the way.

  I waited to one side, my arms crossed. When Roog came out at last, he was half-carrying Robin, who was struggling to escape his iron grip. Exiting the bar, I gave him one chance. After all, he’d bought me a round of drinks.

  But he blew it. Instead of setting Robin down and releasing her, he hoisted her up on his shoulder and moved to trot off with her.

  My foot shot out, hooking his. He went sprawling, but he caught himself with one long arm. He turned just in time to see me bash him with a makeshift club. He rolled over and let out a long sigh, losing consciousness.

  Robin picked herself up, and I took her hand. Together, we ran away from the phantom fire with the rest of them.

  =26=

  Robin and I retreated to Hammerhead. We didn’t trust any other private location aboard the station.