by Casey Lea
Another alien ship cruised much further from Earth than the Bandit. It looked insignificant against the darkness around it – a simple sliver of gold that was the only Royal Fleet presence in this remote system. It patrolled an area that was nominally kres territory, but was seldom visited, even by the fleet and never by civilian kres. Only the most desperate merchants dared this perilous run, which was at least a dozen passages away from more civilised systems.
However, such a barren stretch of space seemed to suit the small and battered craft. The scars of recent battle blackened most of its golden skin and one flared edge of its diamond-shaped body was jagged and torn. Its name had been re-inscribed to stand out boldly against the partially seared fullerene. Honor. The purple letters caught the gleam of a distant sun and then started to shimmer. They wavered like writing seen through rippling water. The entire ship seemed to writhe, and then vanished.
The invisible Honor slowed, to drift silent and unseen. It was hidden from sight and from every scan, except the most focused. Its crew waited patiently at combat stations. The only activity was in the nest, where the senior crew worked weightlessly to control their ship.
“The trap’s set, sah, and our camouflage is secure,” Sub Clearwing Pinion said softly from her seat at the secondary data console.
“Full camouflage?” inquired the ship’s Leader, tilting his chair to study the new sub’s projection.
She spared him a shy smile and a cloud of blonde hair that had largely escaped its braid floated around her head as she turned back to her projected data.
“Ye, sah. Everything that’s hitting us is being on-sent to the opposite side. Starlight, radiation, space dust and traces of solar wind. It’s as if we’re not here.”
“Good work,” said Leader Freefall FarFlight. He finished scrolling through the sub’s collection-transmission matrix and tilted his head at his senior officer, who hung motionless above him. Senior Gull gave the faintest smile of approval. Freefall relaxed and turned back to the main hologram, which showed a freighter convoy moving slowly toward the system’s nearest passage point.
“The bait looks good, sah,” Gull observed, “and certain-sure to tempt pirates.”
“They’re close,” the Leader stated softly. “I can feel them.” He looked around the Honor’s nest with quiet satisfaction. His chair hung in the middle of a hollow globe, surrounded by his crew at their consoles. They floated around him in orderly rows, all with the same orientation as their leader. Everyone was neat and alert, unlike the savages they hunted.
Freefall tapped his upper lip with silent satisfaction. Control was vital. Control of appetites and emotions. Fortunately his crew showed their usual perfect calm, with one aggravating exception. His gaze slid quickly past the padded monstrosity of purple and gold that was his own armrest, to lock on the less ornate but equally gaudy seat of the senior data console.
Lord Cliff BackBeak, second heir of his clan and Data Senior on the Honor, failed to notice Freefall’s scrutiny. The officer should have been engrossed in his hologram feeds, but instead was scowling at his new subordinate.
Freefall glanced at Clearwing too, but the Sub was oblivious, concentrating only on her data. She leaned forward slightly, into the holograms with her lips parted and his gaze drifted back to her. Which was strange, because she was not the problem. Sadly, that was Data Senior BackBeak, who remained incompetent despite Freefall’s best efforts.
The Leader looked back to his DS, who was still grimacing at young Clearwing. It seemed even a fool could recognise his replacement. Unfortunate. It would take real skill to stop this from getting messy.
Freefall rested his aching eyes briefly and cursed the pecking order that dictated the bright stripes and braid of every seat around him. The wildly varied shades regularly gave him a headache. Senior navigation and tactical were presently above his head, and both were particularly gaudy. Freefall longed to spin his chair and place them behind him, but they were vital systems and he needed to watch them closely while the ship waited to pounce.
He briefly envied his Senior. Gull Snowbeak was the only unseated member of the crew and moved through the nest with practiced ease, positioning himself wherever he wanted. He had an uncanny ability to be exactly where he was needed and, as usual, he discretely responded to his leader’s unspoken distress. A gentle pulse from his com wafted him into Freefall’s line of sight, so that he hid most of tactical, with its neon pink seat and orange braid.
The leader gave his Senior a grateful smile and Gull nodded before turning away to watch tactical for him. The Tactical Senior shifted awkwardly under his critical scrutiny, but she was an experienced officer and soon settled back to her routine work. The nest’s quiet efficiency was finally interrupted by the new sub.
“Sah!” Clearwing stated eagerly, looking up at Freefall through the secondary data console’s display. “There’s a fluctuation at passage point. It could be opening.”
The leader glanced at her data stream as a ripple of amusement expanded to fill the nest. He felt unexpected disappointment, but still found a smile for his newest officer. “It could be, Sub, but it looks more like Comet 17-35 in its standard orbit.”
Clearwing’s hair stirred in embarrassment, trying to stand on end despite its length, and she flinched at the revealing rustling. Her brown eyes peered miserably at Free, from a halo of golden wisps.
“Never stress,” said Gull dryly. “If you ever want a career mapping comets, you’ll do well.”
“Yes, sah,” she whispered, with her eyes now riveted above her console.
Freefall casually swiped a finger through his control field to see what she was staring at. A message tag scrolled across the air in front of him, its ident clear, because its sender had made no effort to hide behind privacy protocols. It was sent by Sub BackBeak, another recent recruit and the nephew of Data Senior BackBeak. Congratulations, comet-girl, Freefall read. You completely failed to impress the leader. Thanks for gifting me the next sub-plus promotion.
Freefall stretched and looked casually across at Clearwing. There was a slight frown between her eyes, but her hand was steady as she swiped the taunt away. Good. A sudden ripple appeared in the scan and Freefall’s head snapped back to study his feed. The disturbance was faint and intermittent, but likely to be a ship jumping in. He glanced at his Data Senior, but he was still glaring at Clearwing and Free bit back a curse. Control.
“Sah,” a voice called, but it was the Data Sub not Backbeak. Her blonde braid twisted with embarrassment when everyone stared at her, but she spoke up clearly. “There’s another fluctuation at point. I think it’s an early jump trace-”
She was interrupted by Data Senior BackBeak.
“Sah,” he cried, “we’ve got a post-passage signature. It’s confirmed. A ship’s come through. Ident pending.”
“Good work,” Freefall replied calmly and pivoted his chair to face Clearwing’s station directly. “Both of you. Sub Pinion, run the ident please.”
“Yessah.” Clearwing’s hair stirred again, but she ran the analysis with smooth precision. If her Leader’s close scrutiny worried her it didn’t show. Freefall’s spirits rose as he watched her confident movements and he dared to hope that she would justify the use of his entire crew-request quota for the next three years. She had cost his command dearly, but he was determined to fill his ship with the best officers the fleet could produce and, despite her inexperience, he believed Clearwing had the potential to be one of them.
“It’s certain-sure pirate, sah,” she announced after an impressively quick analysis. “A non-registered Carrion Class strike ship, with ch't'kar propulsion and t’ssaa augmented weapons.”
Freefall glanced at the Data Senior for confirmation and Clearwing’s superior belatedly finished his match.
“Energy field?” the leader demanded, and it was Clearwing who answered first.
“On and strong. They’re showing level ten with full deployment.”
Senior Gull Snowbeak grunted i
n surprise. “Which explains why they’re not trying to run camouflaged. They must be putting their total power to the drakking field, but how can a raider hold so much?” He glanced sideways at his leader and they exchanged unspoken concern. However, Freefall hid his uneasiness.
“Defense fields are static and take little holding once generated. It was likely a one-time power up while they were at their base.” He sat straight and looked confidently around the nest. “Wherever they found the power, it’s good for us. We’re due for a challenge. Let our pirate snag the convoy and then move straight in.”
“We could try to sneak up on them, sah,” young Sub BackBeak suggested loudly from the outer ring of consoles and Freefall suppressed a sigh.
“That convoy’s still in our lap and as cosy as a pet chick. This is snuck up, Sub. Anyway, unless they’re asleep, they’ll read our engine sign at first power-up.”
“Ye, Sah,” Sub BackBeak agreed quietly, but the words were forced past a scowl.
The leader responded with a neutral nod and swivelled his chair to face external visuals. Gods save us from the idiot nephews of idiot lords, he thought grimly, before focusing on projections of the pirate ship as it approached the convoy.
“They’re coming in at a creep,” Gull observed. “Any slower and they’d be in stasis.”
He and Freefall shared a grin. They knew that caution couldn’t save the pirate. His vessel was no match for the Honor, even behind a level ten defense screen. Freefall had spent much of his personal wealth to ensure that the ageing ship he’d been assigned was more than it seemed. The pirate was about to be most surprised.
Senior Gull lifted a bristling frond to share an emotion with Free and they were briefly linked by mutual satisfaction. The pirate ship braked to intercept the convoy and sent out a field to take the automated freighters in tow.
“All right, let’s go. Full propulsion, NS. Let’s get their most focused attention. Send a link, CS. I want out-talk with their leader.”
“Link confirmed, sah,” the Communication Senior announced as a new image was projected to Freefall.
A hologram grew in the air before him and the tightness in his jaw eased at the sight of the pirate leader. She was mermaridian, as he expected, but she had a beauty for which he was unprepared. Good looks were usual in his technologically advanced civilisation, but the pirate had a rare and striking combination of features that was almost impossible to achieve artificially. Her face looked like the unique product of nature and not fashion. Short silver hair was braided into gold extensions that floated around her without restraint to frame light silver eyes highlighted by purple lids. The pirate leader shifted nervously in her seat to expose a shapely thigh and flank.
“This is embarrassing,” she stated gravely and slid gracefully from her seat, to float in front of it with her legs tucked under her. She bowed forward while kneeling in a gesture of surrender. “This is clearly a Luckless day’s thieving for us. I’m Leader Lamidia of the Reaper. I won’t offer insult to your abilities by lying, Leader...?”
“Leader FarFlight of the Honor.”
The pirate’s eyes widened in recognition of Freefall’s royal family name and she offered another supple bow.
“You and your crew are now in arrest,” Freefall announced coldly. “You have trespassed in kres space and appropriated kres property. Your ship will be confiscated and held while you face trial. Power down your defense field now.”
The mermaridian spread her hands helplessly. “I’m optionless, aren’t I? Very well, I accept your authority, Leader FarFlight, and will deliver as ordered.” She paused to flick a finger and Free tensed, but she smiled sweetly. “Our defense field is down and propulsion cut. I’ll wait for you here, Leader. I’m ready for boarding.” Her smile grew warmer and she stretched in an apparent release of tension. She beckoned with a finger and then her image was gone, replaced by a hologram of the Reaper.
“I need a vomit strip,” Sub BackBeak muttered from the outer layer of consoles, but Freefall ignored him.
The pirate ship glided on unpowered and for the first time that modest vessel looked menacing to Free. Its surrender had been suspiciously quick. A flick of his finger enlarged the projection and its black curves grew to hover over him. A hand fell on his shoulder and he almost started. He looked back at Gull, who was floating just behind him. His Senior glared at the projection of the pirates’ now-motionless ship and fed com power to his fronds to silently share his concern.
Way too easy, sah. Look at them, as still as a monsoon bird waiting to fall with the rain. They’ll drift down and rip out our throat.
Free relaxed and smiled for the crew, but his thoughts were grim. I know it’s a trap, Senior. Pirates usually scan us and float about laughing. They always need convincing that surrender is a good idea. And renegade mermaridian have to be dragged flapping and pecking into kres criminal rehab. They never just give up, but what would you have me do?
Blast them, Gull suggested, but his hair stirred under his leader’s stare. I’m sorry, sah. I agree we can't do that. Sometimes I hate being fleet.
I know, Gull. It plucks. But we can’t start shooting people who’ve offered surrender. We’ll go in cautious-as. Like all the ships before us, he realized. All the ships that have disappeared in this sector. Drak it, Gull. They know we’re suspicious, but they’ve made no attempt to fight. They didn’t even protest or threaten to call their ambassador. Their capture was completely unconvincing. What does that tell us?
His senior looked at him sharply. They have no care if we guess it’s a trap. They’re certain-sure we can’t escape, no matter how careful we are.
“Exactly,” Free snarled, and his chair twisted along with his upper lip. The nest spun dizzyingly, but he was used to the sensation and the colors were no bother now that he was distracted. His chair rose, to stop beside senior navigation. “Full braking now. I want us stopped, NS.”
She was startled by the unexpected order, but instantly obeyed. The data and visual projections filling the nest blurred as figures and perspectives changed. The Honor slowed rapidly from its careful advance. The approaching pirate vessel seemed to swing above the Leader’s head as they stabilised at new co-ordinates. The sorriest ship of the kres fleet glided to a halt and hung in open space. Freefall let his breath escape very gently, so that no one heard the sigh. His caution was justified, because everyone in the nest was watching him expectantly.
He nodded gravely for their benefit, then turned confidently to the Communication Senior, hoping that only Gull realized he was guessing their enemy’s next move. “Any-all from our pirates, CS?”
The officer shook his head. “No, sa… yes. Yes, they want in-talk.”
Freefall nodded as though he had expected nothing else. “Put them through.”
The projected image of the enemy ship shrank and was replaced by a hologram of its leader. The mermaridian female seemed bewildered and shook her gleaming hair in confusion. Yet, the look she gave Freefall was coy and she let her eyelids droop to show their purple pigment.
“Leader FarFlight, I’m looking forward to surrendering to you. I know we can’t match you. I’m not stupid, Lord, and every pirate has heard of the ships captured throughout these systems. I knew at first intro that you must be responsible. The royal family would only send one of their own out here to good purpose. I repeat, I surrender and invite you to board. Is that not what you wish? Why do you stop?”
“Leader,” Freefall responded curtly, “I propose a change of procedure. A specialist ship is due to arrive and take charge of your vessel. You will abandon the Reaper and escape in rescue fields. Have no concern. I promise we’ll retrieve you full quick. I want to meet you too.”
The pirate tried to smile, but there was a sulky twist to her lips that marred her beauty. “Very well, FarFlight. Your request is unusual, but I’ll trust your word. Please proceed with all speed to retrieve our escape fields. It will take us less than ten minutes to exit.”
The kres nodded. “I understand. Be assured I’ll see you soon.”
He mentally severed the connection and the now-brooding mermaridian vanished. The tension gripping the nest eased with her disappearance.
“Creepy,” Sub BackBeak stated with his usual lack of tact. “She’s a typical muck gat. They’re all gamblers or pirates and we won’t be safe ‘til their luck runs out. Permanently. We should blast them now.”
Freefall was clear of his seat before he realized it. An expert flick from his com sent him hurtling across the nest and into BackBeak’s space. The startled youngster squawked and quailed, pressing back into his seat.
“Don’t ever say such again. I won't tolerate bias in my nest, nor back world prejudice, nor its ugly names. Understood?”
The Sub stared blankly and his fronds retracted sharply, disappearing behind his ears.
“Do you?”
“Yes, sah.”
“Good.” Freefall passed a hand across his damp forehead and realized that he had not only lost control, but lost it very publicly. His short hair rustled against his collar in shame. “Thank you, Sub.” He braced himself and twisted back to the rest of the nest.
Around the hollow chamber, his crew was uniformly busy despite the ship’s undemanding drift. However, there was no mental touch of embarrassment and no deliberate avoidance of his gaze. Instead, there was a strong sense of approval from the combined minds of the crew. Their preoccupation was simply designed to give him a private moment to recover. He floated thoughtfully back to his seat and Clearwing glanced up through her data projections as he passed. She rolled her eyes in BackBeak’s direction and smiled. Freefall had to suppress a laugh and managed a neutral nod instead.
He settled into his seat again and was shocked to realize that he had been distracted from the Reaper. His hair actually brushed across his forehead this time. He couldn’t afford mistakes like that. Not after his past disgrace.
“DS, can you get any data from that ship?”
“Their internal fields are still up, sah. I can’t read a thing.”
Freefall grimaced and pain traced the length of the two scars on his cheekbones. He was caught by memory and suddenly felt blood washing his face, while the tip of his own knife sliced deep. The only sound was his Uncle’s laughter… Free gulped for air, unable to see his ship or crew. He dug his fingers deep in his padded armrests, but was somehow still trapped in the palace dungeons. Trapped with that drakking laugh.
“Sah,” a clear voice called, demanding Free’s attention and he was back. He blinked at Clearwing and she smiled shyly in return. “Actually, sah, the lack of data is most revealing.”
The Data Senior scowled at her, while his fronds ordered her to be quiet, but Freefall overrode the emotional directive and gestured for her to continue.
“It tells us they have something to hide, sah. We should get some information from a ship without a defense field. Not much mayhaps, especially if they’re strong on internal integrity, but we should read power sources, some infrared, bulkhead fluctuations. Instead, there’s nothing. It’s as blank as an avalanche face, or...” Clearwing stopped and frowned as she considered options.
“Or what, Sub?” the leader prompted gently.
“This is just an idea, sah, but what if...? What if it’s a camouflage field?”
The Data Senior’s derisive laugh interrupted Freefall’s reply. “Return to your watching, Pinion, and don’t bother us with your stupid theories,” DS BackBeak ordered. “We’ve tracked that ship from point and have total data lock on it, plus a visual. We can see them. They’re not hidden and that should be obvious, even to a chick.”
Freefall was furious again, but this time took a calming breath and gripped the arms of his seat more tightly to keep himself from rising. He glared at his Data Senior, but before he could reprimand the officer, Clearwing continued. She was tense, but clearly undeterred by her superior’s caustic comments.
“Yes, we can see them, sah, and what we see fits all our expectations of a pirate ship. We’re seeing exactly what we hoped and yet the readings disagree. They don't match what seems to be there. So perhaps what we’re seeing isn’t right. It could be a disguise. Some new type of camouflage field. Not a collection-transmission matrix to make them vanish, but something more subtle. What if they’re hiding in a giant hologram?”
The DS laughed again and smiles appeared around the nest. Even Gull looked grave and Freefall felt another pang of disappointment.
“A hologram that can fool a deep sensor sweep?” he asked doubtfully. “That would take power plus. The energy drain would be incredible. Certain-sure no pirate ship could sustain it.”
Clearwing’s shoulders hunched under the criticism, but she took a deep breath and ploughed on. “I did think hard, sah, and you’re right in all you say, but it could still be done. A level ten power source would be needed …”
She paused when Freefall leaned forward with a hiss of sudden comprehension.
“The level ten defense field,” he stated, and she nodded in silent agreement. “We scanned it when they entered the system. That field could have been a hologram projector. It was simply disguised as the defense field. If you’re right, they’re still using all that energy, but to hold a hologram. It makes sense. Why invest in a level ten power source without a plan to use it? Good work, Sub. Now, how do we break through and find out what’s truly there?”
“An actively modified probe could do it, sah. I’m good at harmonising with fields, but pushing past a level ten hologram to fetch honest data would need all the power we have. Every-all would have to be diverted to the scan.”
“Internal fields? Gravity?”
“Yes, sah. Cutting bracing fields would be helpful too. The more power I have, the quicker I can break their disguise.”
“Do it,” Freefall instructed the Data Senior, and BackBeak glowered, but quickly re-routed the power.
“Be ready to shift all energy to propulsion and defense when I say,” the Leader ordered, but his attention was on Clearwing.
The entire nest watched that cloud of blonde hair as she bent into the field projection and began her analysis. The initial data came slowly, but the power of the scan and her skill at re-configuring it quickly yielded more. She drilled expertly through the fluctuating layers of energy designed to fool their instruments.
“Close-as now. I’ll have to slow down, sah, if you don’t want them to know we’ve broken in. I can take out a single amplitude wave for a quick scan. Any more and they’ll detect the breach.”
Freefall raised a finger in assent, but Clearwing was intent on the images around her and missed his sharp gesture. “Do it,” he ordered instead, and the tip of her tongue appeared, pink against the gold of her lips, as she made delicate adjustments to her probe.
Her shoulders tensed abruptly, but the subtle interface of her hands and mind seemed unaffected. An invisible line of light peeled a single pulse from the pirates’ hologram and color blazed through the nest. Data exploded from every console and new images formed to fill the hollow sphere. The information flowed for less than a second and then Clearwing gently withdrew. Her intrusion remained undetected, but the Honor had gained a wealth of vital data. It hung in the air before Freefall in ominous detail.
“Ye Gods,” Gull muttered irreverently, and the Leader silently echoed his sentiments.
Their nest was now dominated by the image of three attack ships.
“They’re Harvesters,” young BackBeak quavered from his post near the wall.
Freefall spared a glance for the youngster, who looked fearfully back through the garish hulls that now surrounded them.
“Harvesters,” the boy repeated hoarsely. “They’ve come for us. They’ll take us...” He stopped to gag and his fronds tucked hard against his throat.
“No one’s taking us anyplace. Ever,” Freefall said calmly, and the boy managed to stop retching. The leader smiled and sent support but BackBeak scowled and looked a
way, his hair writhing in embarrassment.
“They’re mind-lost to try harvesting in kres space,” Freefall continued. “The mermaridian Lucks must be mad to think we’d allow it.”
“They’re gambling,” Gull stated flatly. “That we won’t find out, or that when we do we won’t act if they apologise full quick. They know how much we hate war. What are they up to now, Sub?”
No one doubted who the Senior was addressing. Every crewmember looked expectantly at Clearwing.
“Sah... there are fluctuations in their hologram. I sense some changes. I can only take superficial readings, but I think they show an alteration. I can’t be certain-sure-”
“Best guess?”
“They’re changing their false face. They want to show us something else.”
Freefall frowned and rubbed his aching cheek. “I wonder what?”
“Sah, it’s expanding. I’ll have to pull my outer scan right back.”
“Sah,” the CS interrupted. “In-talk.”
He relayed the call to a space above his Leader’s head without having to be told. Freefall tilted his chair so that he could see it clearly and checked that none of his scans showing data on the Harvesters could be seen in return.
“Leader Lamidia.”
“Leader FarFlight. We’ve done as you asked and are leaving our ship. My crew has ejected and I’m soon to go too.” She smiled winsomely, with another flash of lavender lids. “I told them you were honorable and would never leave us to drift. We trust you, Leader. You can move in for pick up now. I’ll see you soon.”
The mermaridian’s image disappeared and was replaced by an external view of the Reaper. It appeared to be a single ship, now surrounded by the clinging bubbles of escape fields. A final translucent orb joined their cluster and slowly drifted free from the parent vessel.
“Power up propulsion,” Freefall ordered. “Let them be certain-sure we’re coming in. Do we have a position on any of the real ships?”
The DS cleared his throat. “We know where they were, sah, but they’ve most likely shifted,” he offered.
“Actually,” Clearwing said, and spared her senior an apologetic smile, “the biggest ship can't move. It’s the source of the hologram. The demands of keeping that opaque to our scans while changing what we see are huge. Any movement would risk discovery. It’s likely that the projecting Harvester is holding at the co-ordinates we know.”
Freefall nodded without hesitation. “That’s a sound assumption. We can’t outrun three Harvesters, so we need to get creative. Let’s stake a gamble and move in on that ship. Navigation, target the lead ship for ramming. Use its previous co-ordinates.”
“Targeted, sah.”
“Good. Divert power to the engines and be ready to push them hard, Nav Senior. Take us in looking cautious-as and then move to total thrust as we enter the hologram.”
Freefall settled deeper in the grip of his chair. It rearranged itself around him, its restraint field ready to engage. He studied the slowly wheeling external visual, not bothering to look for his roving senior. He knew that Gull would have his safety harness programmed and in perfect order.
“We’re entering the front edge of the energy field, sah,” Clearwing announced.
The leader glanced across at his silent Data Senior, who seemed to be sulking. He ignored the angry officer and turned back to his visual. He made no effort to hide a savage grin as the Honor abruptly leapt forward. Projections in the nest blurred and then steadied as space streamed past. The energy orbs that supposedly held the pirates leapt to alarming size. The visual display compensated automatically, but the globes shrank, only to bloat again.
They flew past Freefall like bubbles rising through water. He heard the younger BackBeak gasp, but hardly registered the inexperienced reaction. He was too tightly focused on Clearwing and her data projections.
She bit her lip and leaned even further into the hologram. “Due to clear the fake feed, sah... now!”
The silver globes that seemed to grow as they passed through the nest abruptly vanished. A wall of gold, vermilion and bronze replaced them. This time, Clearwing gasped and BackBeak cried out. The Harvester hull filled every projection and its massive curve grew steeper as the Honor hurtled into it.
5
First Blood
