Drifter's Folly (Peacekeepers of Sol Book 4)

by Glynn Stewart

  “Sorry, ser,” Palmer said. “I don’t like running.”

  “I’ll take a lost battle over a lost ship, Captain Palmer. Get your ass moving.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Henry wasn’t sure who was more surprised: him and his people at the presence of two shielded escorts and twenty shielded starfighters at the skip line when his ships emerged back into the Zo System—or the local ships at the atrociously battered state of his command.

  “Paladin, this is Detached Authority Oka Nal,” an earnest—if far too young-looking—Tak officer greeted Henry in the video link. “System Authority Alala sent my command forward to secure the skip line against potential problems, but…” He trailed off, his dark red head tentacles rippling in concern.

  “Do you require assistance?” Oka Nal finally asked.

  It was a live channel, so Henry refrained from rolling his eyes. Cataphract was no longer actively leaking atmosphere—but her gravity shield was barely online, revealing the twisting her hull had undergone when her GMS drive had gone mad.

  They were lucky so few had been killed. The free-fall effect of the GMS was little protection against rapidly shifting changes of direction in gravity, and if there was anyone uninjured aboard Palmer’s ship, Henry wasn’t aware of it.

  But the Drifters had taken the destruction of their Guardian as the salutary lesson he’d hoped and declined to continue the engagement. They’d shadowed his ships across the system, but the battle hadn’t been rejoined.

  That meant Henry still had three ships…but one of them was an obvious cripple.

  “My ships are capable of maneuvering under their own power, Detached Authority,” Henry finally told the younger officer. “I would request an escort to the Zo logistics base, if that is something your detachment can do.”

  “Are there…enemies pursuing you?” the Tadir System officer asked. “I will still want to make sure the skip line is secure.”

  Henry generously did not point out that the skip line was just that—a line that stretched from one star to the other. While there was definitely an easiest point along the line to emerge—hence his ships meeting Oka Nal’s at all—it wasn’t that large of a difference unless you approached far too close to the star.

  Oka Nal had two ships and twenty starfighters to cover a useful safe emergence area roughly a light-hour across and five light-hours long—with a less useful emergence zone roughly a light-day long. There were ways to do that, but sitting at zero velocity relative to the standard emergence point wasn’t one of them.

  “I do not believe the Drifters have any interest in starting a fight with your alliance, Detached Authority,” he said instead. “Though, in honesty, the escort would be as much for my people’s nerves as anything else.”

  The Tak bowed his head in acknowledgement.

  “One of my fighter squadrons is due to rotate in ninety-seven minutes, in any case,” he noted. “If I send them back early, System Authority Alala can accelerate deployment of the replacement wing.”

  “I appreciate the assistance, Detached Authority,” Henry said. He paused. “Would you be prepared to accept some advice from an old hand, Oka Nal?” he asked quietly.

  “I am prepared to listen,” the officer said carefully.

  “I have some Kem-translated tactical patterns I will forward you,” the Commodore told the younger Tak. “There are better ways to watch the skip line than you’re using, and since we are friends if not necessarily allies…I think you can use them.”

  The clearly inexperienced officer bowed his head again in thanks. Like most of the successor states of the Kenmiri Empire, the Tadir System had a shortage of officers. If a system didn’t have any ex-Vesheron to draw on, their best options were janissary ground-troop NCOs and freighter crews.

  There were a lot of systems and militaries learning war for the first time right now. For all that Henry wished none of them had to, he had to admit it was better than the alternative.

  Better a messy rebirth than life as a slave.

  By the time they actually reached the base, Alala had both sent a second wing of fighters to the skip line to replace the ones escorting them and sent a third wing to join their escorts. Henry’s three ships decelerated into the logistics base with twenty of the E-Two Alliance’s brand-new starfighters around them.

  “You know, I think I’m glad these guys are on our side,” Ihejirika noted on his private link with Henry. “Those shields aren’t super tough, but they’ll take at least one hit from just about anything, and fighters are annoying enough without needing two hits.

  “Looks like four missiles, same as our Lancers, and they’ve got the compensators for two KPS-squared. Nasty little planes. I love them when they’re flying escort on my ship.”

  Henry chuckled. He didn’t even have to force it, though exhaustion was taking its toll. He hadn’t slept since he’d been awoken to find they’d lost the Convoy’s trail.

  “Everything’s much nicer when it’s on your side and not the enemy’s,” he agreed. “I much prefer tactical and technological surprises when they’re mine.”

  “The GMS was always going to have its hitches,” his flag captain warned him. “None of us anticipated the resonance disruptors having that kind of impact on it, but…”

  “I’m going to have to check the research documents,” Henry said. “We’ve known about the damn things for long enough; someone should at least have done the math on it.”

  “They might have figured the shield had to be done for it to affect the drive,” Ihejirika argued. “That’s what I would have figured. That the cascade hit the GMS field without overwhelming the shield was a surprise.”

  “And one that basically killed a modern destroyer.” Lieutenant Commander Vitalik Utkin had finished his initial survey. Cataphract would be able to bring her people home without too much difficulty, but the Epsilon Eridanian chief engineer was not at all certain she could be repaired.

  If she could, it would require a major shipyard, probably all the way back in Sol. Nothing less than a complete rebuild was called for.

  “What’s Paladin’s status?” Henry asked Ihejirika. “And your people’s morale?”

  “We got our teeth kicked in and our sister ship crippled,” the African Captain said flatly. “My people don’t like it. They’re angry and they’re a bit afraid—we’re not used to UPSF ships being one-hit kills for anybody.

  “That said, Paladin is fully functional. Our only real issue is that magazines are down to sixty percent. If the locals can give us some new chassis and fusion bombs, we can fabricate warheads and penetrator busses, but I can’t build and fuel three-thousand-KPS-delta-v missiles from scrap and asteroids.”

  “I’ll see what System Authority Alala is prepared to give us,” Henry said. “But since I’m also going to be begging for an escort back to La-Tar for Cataphract, I suspect I may be using up all of our goodwill here.”

  “Anything that gets us back in the field after these people, ser,” Ihejirika told him. “My people have been knocked back, but we have not been knocked down, and we want to take the fight to the Drifters.

  “They just keep digging…and that’s a hole we’re looking forward to filling up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  System Authority Alala greeted Henry with a small bow of her head when they linked the channel together.

  He was alone in his office, a coffee at his left hand to try to keep him somewhat functional after almost two days awake. It was a bad habit and a terrible idea, but there’d always been something that needed to be done.

  After this call, he’d sleep. He promised himself.

  “System Authority, I thank you for the escort and the watch on the skip line,” he told the Tadir officer.

  “What happened to your squadron, Commodore?” she asked.

  “The Drifters ambushed us and had a new weapon,” Henry told her. That wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was close enough to cover the reality of things. The Drifters
probably hadn’t expected that the disruptors would be as dangerous to the gravity maneuvering systems, either.

  “We destroyed the Guardian anchoring their task force and withdrew to protect my crippled ship,” he continued. “One of my ships has minor damage as well, but we should be able to repair that here if you will permit us.”

  “I have updated instructions from the Council of Tribes, confirming your Writ,” Alala said. “I have also exchanged messages with my own superiors on Tadir. As a gesture of goodwill to the United Planets, I am authorized to provide any and all reasonable support you need, Commodore.”

  Henry blinked. That was a surprise. They were hoping to make friends and allies of the Eerdish-Enteni Alliance’s member states, but no matter how well Felix Leitz was doing on Eerdish, they weren’t there yet.

  The E-Two appeared to want that friendship as much as the UPA did, if they were basically telling their local commanders to give him a blank check.

  “We do not need much for Paladin and Maharatha,” Henry admitted. “Munitions, fuel and basic materials for repairs. For Cataphract, however…”

  “I can provide munitions and fuel, Commodore. That is easy—this is a logistics station,” Alala promised. “But there are no repair slips here. Tadir, perhaps, could help your ship, but…”

  “She has deep structural damage that will require drastic repairs,” Henry said. “And she is Terran-built. I do not believe that there are any yards outside the United Planets Alliance that can do what Cataphract needs.

  “But given everything I have learned since leaving La-Tar to hunt the Drifters, I do not believe that I can send a crippled ship all the way back to the UPA on her own,” he said. “I do not know, System Authority Alala, if the orders you have been given stretch this far.

  “But the aid I truly need is an escort to protect Cataphract on her return trip to La-Tar, where a UPSF fleet will be able to take over her security.”

  Alala closed her slitted orange eyes in thought for long seconds.

  “I have one converted carrier and three escorts, Commodore,” she told him. “To secure a logistics base we now fear is only a few skips from a potentially hostile Drifter fleet. Any ship I send to La-Tar will be away for weeks.”

  Around fifteen days each way for ships limited to a single KPS2, Henry estimated.

  “I know,” he said. “I do not ask this lightly, System Authority, and I will accept if you cannot spare the ships.”

  He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he couldn’t get that escort. He’d probably have to run Cataphract back to La-Tar himself. It would take him less time than the E-Two Alliance ships, but not that much less.

  The Cataphracts’ superior acceleration only reduced the realspace part of the trip. The skips still took just as long.

  “Give me some time, Commodore,” Alala finally said. “I may command here, but not all my ships are Tadir. To detach a unit, I must consult.”

  “I understand,” Henry said. “I appreciate you even considering it, System Authority. As I said, I know what I am asking.”

  “We don’t need an escort. Our engines are fine now; we can make it to La-Tar alone.”

  Henry just looked at Aoife Palmer after she said that on the virtual conference, waiting to see if she realized how much of an idiot she was being.

  “Bullshit,” Ihejirika said loudly, putting out what Henry, Eowyn and Teunissen were all thinking.

  The five of them were on a virtual conference while the XOs and Chan sorted out logistics planning with Alala’s people.

  “You have no weapons,” Henry said calmly into the silence as Palmer flushed. “No offensive weapons, anyway—and, what, a third of your defensive lasers? You’re down a power plant. You’re down fifty-two percent of your gravity projectors, which means you can’t generate more than five hundred gravities of defensive shear even if you cut your acceleration to half a KPS-squared.

  “Yes, you can fly all the way to La-Tar on your own,” he agreed. “And what happens when a stealthed Kenmiri raider decides you are far too tempting a target? Your ship represents the current pinnacle of the UPSF’s warfighting technology.

  “Even some of our friends might be tempted to say you never showed up,” he concluded with a grimace. “I think the E-Two are sufficiently determined to build a relationship that asking them for an escort is safe, but there is no way in hell, Captain Palmer, that Cataphract is going home alone.

  “We’ll also be transferring Maharatha’s severely wounded and dead to you,” he noted. “I’m not risking your people or Teunissen’s on a point of pride. If Alala can’t provide a ship to escort you home, we’re taking you home.”

  “What happens then?” Ihejirika asked grimly. “We don’t know for sure where the Convoy is, but Twelfth Fleet should be fully assembled now.”

  “By the time Cataphract makes it to La-Tar, either way, they’ll have the Lancer crews trained up and they’ll be ready to deploy,” Henry confirmed. “If we take the entire squadron back, it will become difficult to argue against a reconnaissance in force.”

  “By the entire Twelfth Fleet?” Eowyn said. “That seems like it might be worth it, ser. We’re never going to have the Convoy’s location exactly nailed down.

  “We’re working on identifying possible locations now, but if we’ve got it down to three or four systems…maybe we should go get the Fleet.”

  “The problem, Commander Eowyn, is that the Eerdish and their allies are only going to give us permission to bring a three-carrier-group battle fleet into their territory if we have a definitive target,” Henry reminded them all. “From a military-effectiveness perspective, there is no reason to hold Twelfth Fleet in La-Tar Cluster territory.

  “From a political perspective, we do not want to bring those carriers into Eerdish space without explicit permission from both the Council of Tribes and the Highest Principals,” he said. “And I don’t necessarily believe that Admiral Rex is willing to wait for that permission.

  “And while the Eerdish currently want an alliance with us, if we start barging around with capital ships without permission, they may start to reconsider their evaluation of our friendship.”

  Henry shook his head.

  “No, people. If at all possible, we need to locate the Blue Stripe Green Stripe Orange Stripe Convoy. Once we have direct visual of where they are, that is enough for us to get permission for Twelfth Fleet to pass through Eerdish space.”

  “We know they were here in Zo not that long ago,” Teunissen pointed out. “Wouldn’t that be enough?”

  “Every forty-eight hours or so that passes from positive confirmation of a target location increases the zone the Convoy could be in exponentially,” Henry reminded them. “Once we have seen them, we can send skip drones and shadow the Convoy from a distance.

  “Until then, I am unprepared to risk a potential alliance with the second-most powerful group in the Ra Sector. I will make that argument to Admiral Rex in person, if necessary, but our best-case scenario remains pursuing the Convoy with Paladin and Maharatha.

  “Which leads to my next question,” he said with a forced smile. “Captain Teunissen, how long until your ship is as repaired as possible?”

  “Three days,” she said instantly, with a smile that aggravated her resemblance to a bird of prey. “We’re not getting that missile launcher back short of a shipyard, but we’ll have the laser online and the hole in the hull patched over.”

  “All right,” Henry said. “So, we have three days to get Paladin and Maharatha ready. By the end of that, we should know what’s happening with Cataphract and can plan from there.”

  Chapter Forty

  Henry had known he was going to crash and crash hard once he finally slept. He’d pushed far beyond what he should have to get through the meetings with Alala and his Captains, and then he’d finally retreated to his quarters.

  He didn’t remember even taking his boots off, let alone getting under the covers on his bed. He was surprised to wake up and find h
imself tucked into the bed in his underwear. His dirty uniform was gone, potentially retrieved by his steward—but that worthy wouldn’t have undressed him.

  At that point, his internal network informed him that someone had asked to be sent a ping when he woke up. Checking, Henry smiled and gave his implant permission to send Sylvia a notice that he was awake.

  Checking the time, he realized he’d been unconscious for over sixteen hours, and a spike of panic jolted him the rest of the way out of bed.

  “Sit your butt down,” Sylvia told him sternly, appearing at the door to his bedroom as if by magic. “Eowyn, Ihejirika, Quaid and I have spent a great deal of effort keeping the wolves from your door while you slept.”

  Arthur Quaid was Henry’s steward, the poor bastard assigned to handle the care and feeding of one of the UPSF’s many damaged flag officers. Combined with his operations officer, flag captain and diplomatic counterpart, those four could definitely make sure nothing made it through to his implant or his quarters.

  And Henry realized he trusted that four’s collective judgment enough to know that if something had needed to reach him, it would have.

  “Okay,” he conceded, sitting back down on the bed. Sylvia smiled and waved a half-threatening, half-promising finger at him before disappearing back into his lounge.

  A minute or so later, she entered his bedroom with a tray holding two coffees, two juices, a carafe of each, and a single sandwich.

  “Hydrate, eat, caffeinate,” she instructed, passing him the orange juice. A table unfolded from the wall for her to place the tray on—though Henry was reasonably sure the chair she sat down on hadn’t been there when he’d fallen asleep.

  “Where are we at?” he asked softly.

  “I’m waiting on a response from the Tadir government,” she told him. “So’s Alala. I think she has a solution of her own, but three days was enough for her to kick the answer upstairs.”