First Command

by Scott Bartlett

  “Yes,” Moll said. “Their low opinion of us is mutual.”

  Something clicked in Thatcher’s head, then. The Sunder-Reardon Incident. They’d taught it back in the academy, and he felt like kicking himself for not remembering sooner. It was the first intercorporate conflict to occur in the Dawn Cluster, and also the event that had caused the UNC to maintain such a large presence here—to police the Cluster and ensure corporations from every country could operate safely. That was sixty years ago. Could Moll have been involved in that? He racked his mind, but couldn’t place the name in what he knew of the Incident. He would have to be eighty at least, and he looks like a young sixty. But it was possible. Cosmetic surgery and life extension tech worked greater wonders for some than it did for others.

  “Did you know that Sunder tried for the same Oasis contract Reardon now holds?” Moll asked. “But your government wanted an American corp, of course, and it was easy to withhold the contract from us after Ramon Pegg began smearing our good name during the bidding process. In much the same way he’s currently smearing yours.”

  Thatcher couldn’t help himself. “What’s your proposition?” Both CEOs looked at him, Rose’s eyes widening meaningfully. But Thatcher just wanted Moll to get to the point. He couldn’t tolerate his glib smugness for much longer.

  Moll’s eyes returned to Rose, and he gave a resonant chuckle. “Straight to business I see, Commander.” His tone made it clear he was dismissing Thatcher out of hand. “Well, why not. Sunder has long had a contingency plan in place to prepare for a scenario in which the UNC no longer plays the role of ‘Cluster police,’ whether by choice or because they are unable. It seems that with the collapse of the wormhole, that contingency has arrived. Three other PMCs are party to the plan, one which Sunder shares an alliance with—the Daybreak Alliance—and two that belong to the Valkyrie Bloc. Efforts are already underway to bring those entire alliances fully on board.”

  Moll stopped talking, and this time he was clearly waiting to be asked. Stubbornly, Thatcher held his peace.

  “What’s the plan, then?” Rose said.

  “I’ll tell you. But first, I should warn you that our plan may not seem consistent with your principles—at least, not at first. With further consideration, though, I’m confident you’ll see that Sunder Incorporated and its allies seek the exact same ends you do. Frontier wants stability in the Cluster, so that American colonists might prosper, and I happen to know that you were sent here by Rear Admiral Faulkner to achieve the exact same thing, Commander.”

  “How do you know that?” Moll’s words felt like a bucket of ice water tossed in Thatcher’s face.

  The man’s smirk briefly became a grin. “You’ll find I know a great many unexpected things—and entering into a partnership with us will mean you know those things as well. But for now, the plan. Sunder and its partner corporations intend to secure the entire northwest of the Dawn Cluster as our power base. From there, we can work on stabilizing the rest of the Cluster. We can effectively control the northwest by locking down only four regions: Candor, Endysis, The Splay, and Dupliss. If you agree to help us execute our plan—entering into partnership with us, bearing the same risks and reaping the same benefits—then Sunder will gladly help you retake the Dupliss Region from Reardon. Under our plan, that region will be all yours, to harvest its fruits and to defend it, as it will be one of the four gateways into a northwest that will be controlled by our super-alliance.”

  Moll leaned back, then, apparently content to let that sink in. He knows how to put on a show. I’ll give him that. The prospect the CEO-captain raised was intriguing, but Thatcher knew implementing this plan would not be a bloodless affair. Plenty of corporations occupying the space he proposed to take over wouldn’t want to live under the rule of this new super-alliance.

  “You mentioned knowing certain things,” Rose said. “ Thing others don’t know. I’d like to hear an example, before I agree to anything. As a show of good faith.”

  Moll nodded without hesitation, and Thatcher got the sense he’d expected this. “Absolutely. How about this: the UNC recognizes that if the wormhole stays closed—which I think we all know it will—then improved communications will be vital, if there’s to be any hope of peace. And so they’re giving up one of the precious technologies they’ve kept from us for so long: instant comm units, one for every corporation. They’re making them as tamper-proof as they can, to prevent corps from replicating them, but I can tell you my people will crack these things open sooner than later. So will others. Before too long, every ship in the Cluster will have instant communication, even across hundreds of light years.”

  “Why weren’t we offered a unit when we spoke to the UNC?” Rose said, reproach creeping into her voice.

  Perhaps because you told their representative to go to hell, Thatcher reflected.

  Moll shrugged, his massive shoulders heaving. “For now, they’re only giving them to corps who ask for them—corps in the know. They’ll need to start mass-producing the units to meet demand, so this is how they’re limiting numbers for the time being. If you ask for one, you’ll get one.”

  Incredible. Instant comms would be another game-changer for space warfare. No one knew how the UNC had managed it, though the leading theory had something to do with entangled electrons. Verifying the theory had always been impossible, since the UNC cracked down on anyone who tried.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this alone will change everything,” Moll said. “Soon, PR will be as vital as laser batteries for achieving a corp’s ends—maybe more vital. Message your cause well, get the Cluster on your side, and doors will start opening. New allies, better intel. Weaponized scandals. The age of propaganda is about to begin.”

  Rose nodded, birthing a strange mix of emotion in Thatcher’s gut. The Sunder CEO talked sense, Thatcher had to admit, however grudgingly. Moll’s plan could lead to stability throughout the Cluster, and if Frontier refused his offer, they’d probably be resigning themselves to the sidelines of history.

  Even so…anxiety tightened the base of his throat. It wasn’t just the bloodshed the plan would entail. It was also that he hadn’t trusted Moll since the moment the man appeared in his holotank.

  “I’m ready to agree to your proposal,” Rose said. “On one condition.”

  Simon Moll raised his eyebrows and waited.

  “All throughout the space we help you conquer, civil liberties will be preserved, for all colonists. No more of the surveillance and censorship the UNC has visited on us for more than a century. Everyone living within our borders will be truly free.”

  Thatcher found himself nodding his approval. So. She actually does care about American values.

  Moll appeared to give Rose’s requirements due consideration, his fingers drumming on the conference table for several long seconds.

  “Very well,” he said. “We have a deal.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aboard the New Jersey

  Sable System, Dupliss Region

  Earth Year 2290

  The New Jersey took the regional jump gate into the first Dupliss system, her CIC crew on high alert.

  “I have something, sir,” Guerrero said a few minutes after they hit the jump zone.

  Thatcher’s hands tensed involuntarily, gripping his chair’s armrests. “A Reardon ship?” He used his station’s holoscreen to scan a scaled-down representation of the Sable System, searching for a hostile vessel. The influx of traffic toward Clime from the Cluster’s periphery had slowed to a fraction of what it had been when they’d last flown through, but there were still a dozen ships in-system, approaching the regional jump gate from three different jump zones.

  “Negative,” Guerrero said. “I believe it’s one of ours—the Boxer, a Frontier ship. A frigate. She appears damaged, traveling at a fraction of her normal cruising speed.”

  “Set a rendezvous course, Nav. Share it with the other three ships.” In addition to the Squall and the Victorious, a S
under logistics ship called the Lightfoot also accompanied them .

  “Aye, sir.”

  Thatcher reached for the comm suspended in a holster down the side of his chair, withdrew his hand, then reached for it again. He thumbed the code for Veronica Rose and brought it to his ear.

  “Veronica Rose.”

  “Ms. Rose. This is Thatcher.”

  “What can I do for you, Commander?”

  “You may want to come up here. We’ve come across another Frontier vessel. She’s badly damaged, from what we can tell at this distance.”

  “I’ll be right up.”

  Soon, Rose was back in her observation seat, and Thatcher tried to ignore the sensation that her gaze was crawling across the back of his head, trying to penetrate his skull and study the brains underneath.

  It took three hours to reach the frigate, even though both ships were headed straight for each other, each having noticed the other. The frigate’s limping increased the transit time greatly.

  If that ship had instant comms, there might be no need to rendezvous. Another testament to how the innovation would change things, once widespread. The New Jersey’s unit had yet to be fully integrated with the ship’s systems, but once it was, Thatcher would be able to speak with reps from any Cluster corporation he wished, provided they also had a unit. Whether the new comm would enable communication with Earth had been the first thing Thatcher had asked the UNC officer who’d arranged for the comm’s delivery to the Jersey, but apparently the thing lacked that kind of range. They must not rely on entangled particles after all. Distance wouldn’t matter, if they did.

  At least, he didn’t think it would. Probably, he was kidding himself by thinking he had any real understanding of quantum physics.

  Once they finally drew into real-time communication range with the frigate, a woman with a pleasant, youthful face appeared in the holotank, her blond hair drawn back tightly beneath her beige cap. “Hello, there,” she said in a Southern drawl. “This is Commander Pat Frailey contacting you. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with? I thought Captain Vaughn commanded the New Jersey.”

  “Hello to you, Commander. I’m Commander Tad Thatcher. I’m afraid Captain Vaughn passed away from a heart attack during an engagement.”

  “Oh, no. Truly?” Tears sprang to Frailey’s eyes, and she stared into space for a moment as she dabbed them with the tips of her fingers. “My gosh. I knew Vaughn for years. Everything’s changing in the Cluster these days, ain’t it? I’m sorry.”

  “No apology needed,” Thatcher murmured, waiting for Frailey to compose herself.

  “Commander Frailey, this is Veronica Rose. I’m aboard the New Jersey as well.”

  Frailey’s mouth became an ‘O,’ her tears forgotten. “Ms. Rose? Heavens, what are you doing on there?”

  “You’re aware of Reardon Interstellar’s recent behavior?”

  “I know they wouldn’t let me in the Freedom System at all. Called Frontier a bunch of pirates.”

  “Yes, well, Commander Thatcher here was kind enough to help me evacuate from Oasis Colony, along with all of our personnel that were in the system. He’s also let me set up shop in his cargo bay.”

  “Well bless your heart, Commander.”

  “Was it a Reardon ship that fired on you, Pat?” Rose asked.

  “No, ma’am. That was pirates, just one system back. Three of their scows were trying to take over Prosper Station, and we intervened. Didn’t go so well for us.” Frailey shook her head. “Dupliss is lousy with pirates right now, with Reardon keeping to the one system by all accounts, just letting the scumbags have their way with the people Reardon’s meant to be protecting.”

  If Thatcher didn’t have to twist around to meet Rose’s gaze, he would have. By the sounds of things, the pirates were well on their way to cementing their own corporations and possibly even alliances, if they hadn’t already. And Reardon was doing little to hide its association with those pirates, instead using them to occupy Dupliss.

  It made sense, in a demented sort of way. With just the ships Reardon had, there would be no way for it to secure all of Dupliss against invaders coming from Unity, The Splay, Tempore, and Yu—the four regions from which Dupliss could be accessed. Indeed, if Frontier succeeded in taking back Dupliss with Sunder’s help, then they too would need more ships to hold it.

  But how would we get them? Thatcher could think of a number of ways, some more savory than others. Ideally, the UNC would give Frontier their nanofab tech, so the company could speed up its starship construction from years to months—weeks, in the case of smaller ships. Of course, first they’d need to waive their cap on how large corporate militaries were allowed to grow. But maybe the UNC could be convinced that favoring Frontier like that would help stabilize the Cluster.

  Somehow, I think we have a long way to go before that happens.

  Rose spoke up again. “Pat, have you encountered any…other warships in the area?”

  Thatcher made sure to keep his expression neutral. He knew Rose was talking about the Xanthic, but the fact one of their ships had been encountered in the Cluster was still a secret. If that got out, the panic it caused could make a bad situation a lot worse.

  “Other than Reardon’s, and the pirates’? No, ma’am.”

  “How extensive is your damage, Commander?” Thatcher said. “Is it anything a loan of our repair drones would help with?”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks all the same. They blew off half our stern, which took out one of our main thrusters. Nearly caused our reactor to go into meltdown—we managed to pull off an emergency restart with three ships blasting away at us, and they lost interest once we dragged ourselves far enough away.”

  The sound of Veronica Rose unstrapping herself from the observation seat reached Thatcher’s ears, and next she was standing beside him, peering up into Frailey’s enlarged face. “Commander, I want you to seek repairs at one of the Helio bases in this system. In the meantime, you’re to watch out for any Frontier ships coming through. I suspect more will, as Reardon kicks them out of Freedom System. Reach out to them with my orders to stay put here in Sable, while seeing to any repairs they might need. I want my fleet fully operational, and stationed where I can reach them. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rose turned to Thatcher. “Commander, please set a course for Epact System. Prosper Station is too important a trade hub to allow it to fall into pirate hands. Brief the Squall, Victorious, and Lightfoot on what’s going on, and then meet me in the cargo bay. We have battle plans to discuss.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aboard the New Jersey

  Epact System, Dupliss Region

  Earth Year 2290

  Ensign Jimmy Devine strode across one of several catwalks suspended over the New Jersey’s main engineering deck, bouncing a flow nozzle in the palm of his hand. One of the backup thruster’s liquid hydrogen tanks wasn’t feeding like it should, and he’d feel a lot better once it was back to normal. As long as the main thrusters were functioning, the issue wasn’t likely to matter, but anything could happen in battle. If the larger thrusters went, then this little flow nozzle replacement could make the difference between victory and the entire crew perishing. Probably won’t, but it could.

  Devine was just glad the Jersey didn’t have a fission reactor, like so many starships still did. Antimatter was about a bajillion times more stable, and while an engineer’s job was still just as vital to the ship’s success, he rested a little easier without hundreds of nuclei decaying somewhere near his head every second.

  Of course, there was always the possibility of antimatter leaking out and coming into contact with regular matter outside of the propulsion system. If that happened, the annihilation would generate an explosion inside the ship, proportionate to the amount of escaped antimatter. That wouldn’t be good. But the designers had installed plenty of failsafes to prevent it from happening, and engineers like Devine were here to make sure those fai
lsafes stayed in good working order.

  “…sure he thinks he’s better than everyone,” someone said from below, the snatch of dialog drifting up to reach Devine. “Maybe even Ms. Rose.” He halted, realizing he was directly above Tony Jowers and Axel Navarro, two deck engineers. They didn’t look up—his footsteps must have faded into the background hum of the engine room.

  This was how he’d gathered everything he’d passed on to the captain. Not by eavesdropping, but from one-on-one conversations, with other crewmembers confiding their grievances in him when they thought no one else would hear. No one dared openly complain about Captain Thatcher. He had a growing number of fans among the crew, after all, and it only took one to report the complainer for sewing dissension. But his detractors seemed to be talking more often, with their complaints growing bolder.

  To their eyes, Devine made a good confidant. They figured he had to hate the captain, given how much he was reprimanded by him. But he also sensed some hesitance on their part. Maybe because he was new, fresh from the Fleet. I wonder what I’ll hear now. Jowers and Navarro were among Captain Thatcher’s biggest detractors.

  “What he did to the pirates was something else,” Jowers was saying, in response to a remark from Navarro that Devine had missed. “But it isn’t hard to tell he wants all the glory to himself. I don’t believe for one second that keeping that battle plan from his officers was about OPSEC. It was about making sure they wouldn’t get any of the credit. He acts all high and mighty, making out we’re money-hungry, and donating our prize money to Oasis. But how’s it any better to be obsessed with glory?”

  Navarro spoke again, but he was doing a much better job than Jowers at keeping his voice down. Devine couldn’t make out the words.

  “Exactly,” Jowers said. “That compromises our effectiveness just as much, and puts us all in danger. Just look at the situation we’re in right now. Charging into another engagement with a bunch of pirates, while the other Frontier ships get to gather together and hang out in Sable. You think Captain Vaughn would have sailed into danger without waiting for the proper backup to show up? Not a chance. I tell ya, Axe, I’m asking Ms. Rose for a transfer off this ship the first chance I get. And if she won’t get me it, I’ll go work for someone else. Reardon, maybe. At least they have the sense to hunker down in one system and let others do the fighting for them.”