by Adam Gaffen
“Can we do anything else to improve those odds?”
Mike started to answer but lost their attention to commotion from the outer room. Exasperated, Stone stood and went to see the source of the disturbance. Mike tried again.
“Yes, Mistress Newling; I have worked out –”
“Autumn!” Stone’s bellow overrode Mike’s voice. “Out here! Now!”
Newling ran from her office, trailed by Jordan and Nour. What she saw brought her up short.
Stone was carrying Sharon’s body, one arm dangling down, blood dribbling from her mouth and oozing from a dozen wounds.
“She was jumped,” Stone said. “Made it back here and collapsed outside. Do you have a medic?”
“No, not here,” Newling replied.
Nordstrom, send your medic to the HQ! Stone commed.
On the way, he answered.
“One’s coming,” she said, laying her across a pair of desks. “Alyssa, rags.”
Without a word Jordan pulled off her jacket, opened a knife and started slicing. As quickly as she produced them Stone applied them to the injuries.
“Nour, pressure here and here. Autumn, here, and here. Hold them.”
They pressed against the worst wounds, but Stone was afraid it was a lost race. Still, they didn’t relent, and when Novak arrived she was forced into duty as well. When the medic from the Marines arrived it only took him a moment before he shook his head.
“Sorry, Master Chief,” he said. “Nothing more I can do. Lots of deep wounds, none individually fatal but combined? She bled out.”
Nour crumpled over her friend.
“Do you know where she was?” Stone asked Newling while wiping her hands. Newling was shaken but holding up better.
“She was coming back from a routine check-in with some of our armed forces,” Newling answered. “She visits once a day with a different group, makes them feel appreciated.”
“Someone didn’t appreciate her much,” Stone said. “Who’s next up to run your military?”
“Next up?”
“Her deputy. She did have a deputy, right?”
“There were a couple people who she talked to, but I don’t know if she really had a deputy.”
“Oh, sweet lord,” moaned Stone. “That was one of the things we discussed in setting up your plan!”
“And we were working on it!” snapped Newling. “We just didn’t think we’d need anyone yet!”
“Fine. I need to borrow your Q-Net connection, unless you don’t want to listen in.”
“Listen in? To what?”
“I’m going to get you someone to step in.”
“Who?”
“Would you take a former Minister of War?”
Autumn’s face wrinkled in thought.
“Taylor?”
Stone shook her head. “No, his predecessor. Nicole Crozier.”
Book 2:
Blood Moon Rising
CHAPTER ONE
TFS Enterprise; TFS Defiant
Stardate 12008.07
“Captain, all departments report ready.”
“Very good, Commander.” Alley dropped her voice and her formality. “How are the girls?”
“Well, other than whining about not having Aunt Mikki around, pretty happy. They’re pestering me already about going down to the planet and finding a Freyr’s goat of their own.”
Alley’s eyebrow said everything.
“Not my idea, Captain!” huffed Cass. “Besides, we have the pack back on Njord. I don’t see the need for more.”
“Very well. Tell me if you need my help and ‘Aunt Alley’ will pay them a visit.”
Her redheaded XO laughed.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, then turned serious again.
“Problem?”
“No, Captain. Shuttlebay is secure.”
“Good. In that case, I think it’s time we were on our way.”
“Aye, Captain. Enterprise to Njord.”
“Hi Cass!” The almost aggressive informality of Hecate brought grins to every face on the bridge. “Leaving?”
Cass winced. She might not have known anything about naval tradition and protocol when she’d joined as Science Officer, but two years in even she was sensitive to how badly the AI was trampling on the norms.
“Affirmative, Njord,” she replied.
“Gotcha. All clear, except for one Wolf and she’ll be out of the way before you run into her, it’s Hangover and I think she might be by the way she’s flying!”
“Thank you, Njord. Enterprise out.”
“Bye!”
Alley, who had been shaking with silent laughter, released it and triggered the rest of the bridge crew. Even Cass found herself smiling as she passed the routine orders to get underway.
Thus did the longest mission of the Enterprise begin in high spirits.
“’CAPTAIN’S LOG, STARDATE 12008 point, um. Dammit.’ Pause recording. Rio!”
“Recording paused, Chloe.” The AI, properly named Nerio but quickly shortened to Rio, answered with her soft soprano.
“What’s today’s Stardate?”
“12008.07, Chloe. Do you need me to review it with you again?”
“No,” Captain Resler said, frustrated. “I don’t know why the Admiral insists on all this nonsense.”
“It is not nonsense to her, Chloe. She believes establishing a universal time system, even one based on the Terran calendar, is a necessity for the mission of the Federation and Starfleet, in particular.” She was patient but there was the definite sense this was an old, well-worn conversation.
“Good. Fine. Resume recording. ‘Captain’s Log, Stardate 12008.07. Our patrol of the Inner System continues uneventfully. The Union warp ship, al-Battani, remains grounded. We are taking advantage of their immobility to engage in some target practice. Our allies in the Guild have given us ‘suggestions’ as to which Atira-group rocks would best benefit from rapid fragmentation analysis. So far we’ve reduced eighteen to rubble and found fourteen C-type, three S-type, and one M-type. The M-type absorbed most of the energy applied and became, briefly, molten. We have tagged that one for later retrieval.’ End recording.”
“Recording ended. I have continued my analysis of (2315) 1997 DR13, Chloe. Thermal dissipation suggests a high concentration of heavy metals.”
“Meaning what, Rio?”
“It is a valuable property, Chloe, and as the first people to ‘improve’ it you and your crew hold the rights to it.”
“We own an asteroid?”
“Essentially, Chloe. I can negotiate with the Guild for the equable distribution of value when they begin recovery.”
Visions of prize money dancing in her head, Chloe said, “Absolutely! Thanks, Rio.”
“Of course, Chloe. Status change in al-Battani. Nymeria Squadron is reporting liftoff from Lunar surface.”
Any thoughts of riches dissipated.
“Lieutenant Wilder, shields up, weapons to standby. Ensign Skaggs, set course to intercept, full sublight. Commander Huff to the bridge.”
Acknowledgements rang around the small bridge. The Defiant was a warship, crafted that way from the core outward, and designed to run with a smaller crew than her larger sisters. Only three people were necessary to run her bridge: a helmsman, seated forward and starboard; a tactical officer, next to the helm, forward and port; and a commander. In a pinch the commander could be dispensed with, and in a dire situation all functions could be controlled from the commander’s chair. There were auxiliary stations along the port and starboard bulkheads but they were rarely manned.
The single lift door opened and Commander Robert Huff moved to his usual position, standing to Chloe’s right.
“Al-Battani?” he asked without preamble.
“Yes. We’re getting the take from the Direwolves relayed, but our own sensors are starting to develop a firing solution.”
“Thirty seconds to orbit, Captain,” Skaggs reported.
“Laser capaci
tors charged. Energy torpedoes armed and ready in tubes one and two.” Wilder was efficient and precise, a trait Chloe appreciated in her Tactical officer.
“Rio, open a channel.”
“Channel open.”
“Al-Battani, you are in violation of the no fly zone. Land immediately or be, oh shit!”
The al-Battani had jumped to warp, barely sixty kilometers above the surface. As they swooped in they could see a divot neatly scooped out of the regolith by the warp field. There were two ways to bring a warp drive online: gradually, which expanded the bubble outward like blowing up a soap bubble, or abruptly, snapping it into existence. The Federation almost always powered up gradually.
Artemis? Not so much, apparently.
“Skaggs, where are they?”
The ensign peered at her sensor readings.
“I’ve got them,” said Wilder before the junior officer could reply. “They’re headed out-System, and they’re already at warp three, still accelerating.”
“Ensign, match course and follow!”
Skaggs’ fingers flew over her panel and the ship put distance between her and the surface. “Clear of interference in ten seconds.”
“Warp field generated.” Lieutenant KC Windell, the Chief Engineer, was in Engineering and reported remotely.
“Five, four, three, two, one, entering warp. Warp one. Warp two. Warp four. Warp four point two, we’re starting to overtake.”
“Very good. Bob, what are they doing?”
Huff looked up from the station he usually occupied when not at the conn. “Near as I can figure they’re taking the same exit route from the System as the Enterprise did this morning.”
“Could they be following? I mean, we can track them, do you think they can track us?” Chloe’s tone belied her concern. The Federation’s technological superiority was one of the cornerstones of their confidence. If the Union had somehow managed to replicate their sensor abilities, a huge chunk of their advantage had just gone out the airlock.
“No,” Huff said. “Not a chance. We can’t follow a warp track that’s more than thirty minutes old, and the Enterprise’s track has to be at least five hours stale. They might be following, but it’s based on intel from somewhere, not their own resources.”
“Rio, get me Colonel Whitmore.” As the AI made the connection she explained. “I want to talk this over before we get out of Q-Net range.”
“Whitmore here.”
“Colonel, I have a situation.” Chloe relayed the events of the past few minutes and their speculation the al-Battani was pursuing Enterprise.
“I think I understand,” said Whitmore when she finished. “What’s your question?”
“At what point do we engage? Current ROE is to destroy the starships.”
“Correct.”
“We can’t engage in warp; what if they don’t drop out until they get to 40 Eridani?”
“Then enjoy the flight and we’ll take care of things at home. Captain, I know you’re going to lose the Net soon, so I will summarize. When the al-Battani drops out of warp, you are to attack. If you can cripple them without destroying them, fine, but you’ll have to figure out how to repatriate the crew. We’re not leaving them stranded light-years from home.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll discuss it with the Admiral,” Whitmore continued, less formally. “If anything changes, I will send new orders to all the warp buoys we have deployed. Until and unless you receive those orders, my current orders stand.”
“Thank you, Colonel.”
“Good hunting. Whitmore, out.”
“Ensign, position and speed?”
“We are five seconds behind them at warp four; they’re approximately on course for 40 Eridani.”
“Five seconds? Well done. You all heard the Colonel. Lieutenant Wilder, stand down the weapons.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“I want them able to come online in five seconds.”
“Can do, Captain.”
“Bob, you’ve got next watch; if you want to grab some dinner, go ahead and I’ll see you at change.”
“Thanks, Captain, I will.”
“Good. Settle in, everyone, this is going to be a long run.”
CHAPTER TWO
Tycho Under; Council Chambers, Artemis City
Stardate 12008.07
Nobody saw anything, it seemed.
Mike was reviewing the video footage, but it was an uphill battle. Since Tycho Under was smuggler central, any movement to install more cameras for monitoring was firmly opposed. The trail of blood had been followed back to their origin, in a cubby hidden from view of any camera or any casual passer-by.
Mike had examined the body remotely. He’d determined the wounds came from a smaller person, given the angle of entry for most of them, were inflicted with a manufactured blade, not handmade, and were delivered with great force and little accuracy.
“The pattern suggests a person intensely angry with Mistress Mwangi, as opposed to a political opponent.”
“Why can’t they be both?” asked Newling.
“They could be, Mistress Newling, but it is highly improbable. My conclusion is this was a planned romantic encounter gone awry. Mistress Zein-Hutter.”
Nour looked up, eyes still red-rimmed.
“What?”
“Did Mistress Mwangi have any partners you knew of?”
“Maybe. Since we got to Tycho she hasn’t said much of anything about her social life, we haven’t exactly had much time, but I think she saw a couple people, casually.”
“Do you know names?” Stone asked, thinking Nour might be more comfortable answering her than a machine.
“No, I don’t. We were close, you know, but we didn’t have much chance to gab. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I get you,” said Stone, and Jordan nodded. “When I was in the Teams, I would have died for any of my mates. Didn’t mean we hung out together and talked about relationships and crap.”
“Not that anyone’s asked, but if Mike’s satisfied we’re looking at a spurned lover then I for one am happy to move on to the larger threat he told us about,” Jordan added. “Nothing personal, but I’d rather stop my ass from being vaporized. It’s sad about your friend, and it’s going to be a bitch to bring Nicole up to speed, but one nuclear device can ruin your entire day!”
Now it was Stone’s turn to agree.
“I’ve been in contact with Njord, and both Nicole and her former deputy are willing to come down and help run the military end of your operation.”
Ever the diplomat, Caitlin said, “The fact they both fled the current government will give them instant credibility with our followers. Didn’t you know Crozier, Autumn?”
Newling waggled her hand. “A little. She was promoted into her position a couple lunars before I was removed. I didn’t interact with her much; we were in different Ministries.”
“There wasn’t any problem with her, between you I mean?” Jordan asked.
“No; as I said, I didn’t interact with her. When will they arrive?”
“Within the hour. They would have been here quicker, but I took the liberty of calling in a few favors from OutLook.”
The name took a moment to register in Newling.
“Why?” she asked with grave suspicion.
“I pulled every personal protection specialist they have available, and quite a few they didn’t. You can’t lose another member of your inner circle, and I trust them. As a bonus, since I’m still part of OutLook, they report directly to me, which means your control over them is going to be much tighter.”
“I didn’t ask for protection!”
“No, but you’re bloody well going to get it! Dammit, Autumn, this isn’t a game you’re playing; people are dying, are going to die, and I’m not going to let their deaths be wasted because you were too stubborn to ask for help!” Stone’s voice had risen to a near-shout by the end and Newling, wisely, decided not to push the issue.
�
��How are they arriving?” asked Nour.
“Wolves,” Stone replied, not breaking her gaze on Newling. “It’s the only craft we have fast enough and capable of landing at Tycho Under.”
“I should meet them,” Nour said, standing. “Jordan, will you come with me? A familiar face.”
“Sure,” Jordan said. “Chief, who’s in command?”
“Wrangler; we’ve got a total of eight Wolves dropping.”
“That many?”
Stone grinned. “I pulled in a bunch of favors.”
“THE NERVE AGENT HAS been recovered, Empress.”
“About time.”
“We are preparing it for deployment and deciding on targeting priorities,” Phalkon continued.
Newling snarled, “All of them deserve to die.”
“Yes, Empress, but we have to do this intentionally and deliberately. Our supplier was somewhat less than forthcoming with deployment information, so we’ve had to discover what we could on our own. We’ll test our information on some of the more isolated warrens. This will allow us the opportunity to perfect our delivery before we target Tycho Under and the other rebel warrens.”
“How long?”
“We have to be cautious with the Agent 15, Empress. We can’t simply transfer it in vacuum; it will boil away. The ‘clean rooms’ we use for spaceship assembly would suffice, but most were located near the naval base in Scipio City.”
“Then use the others.”
“Empress, the others are here in Artemis City. If you so order, we will use them, but a ventilation failure could kill thousands of innocent citizens.”
“So?” The callous syllable caused Phalkon to pale, but her voice was steady.
“Our loyal citizens are our greatest asset, Empress, and all of our actions are taken only to preserve and protect them. If we were to directly cause their deaths, however unintentionally, we risk allowing the rebellion to gain ground.”
Newling dismissed her argument with a snort. “If any die, tell the survivors it was an industrial accident. Lie. Do anything you need, but further delays are unacceptable. Am I clear?”
